Louis Lesely Lattimer, Paris Resistance Regiment #5 | Paris Saboteur | Resistance Leader

Hello! I'm new to this site. If you couldn't tell by how recent this intro post is.

I was referred here by Limey Bakura, after I told her about a thing I'm doing in Minecraft. I used to RP quite a bit, back in my days as a furry. [I used to be, and I was rather young when I started into it. I find the fandom to be insufferable, as of late.] It's been a good while since I've actually roleplayed, so I'm probably not going to be that great at it, at first. I don't know if I've even roleplayed in the format you guys do. I'll get over it.

I suppose you want to actually hear about my character.

Louis Lesely Lattimer
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Born: July 10, 1921
Age: 22
His mother: Rosie Lattimer
His Father: Edmund Lattimer
Place of Birth: Sheffield, Great Britain
Siblings: Jessica Lattimer [Dead]
Occupation: Paris Resistance Regiment Leader
Specialty: Saboteur
Allegiance: Ally
Sexuality: Homosexual
Relationship: Wayne Vennin [Dead]

Description: Louis was a normal looking man, I call him a man not because he was of age, but because he had lived the life of one. He stands about 6'2'' when straight backed. He weighs roughly one hundred and eighty seven pounds. The extent of his muscular build is in his shoulders and legs. His midsection is slightly toned, but not much. The same is said for his chest and stomach. His feet are a size 11 and a half. His arms reach down to below his hips, and his hands are only slightly above average in size. He has a well defined jaw line, much like his father's. His nose is normally British, as one would say. His eyes are coloured a gorgeous violet, due to the Alexandria's Genesis. His skin is a pale white that contrasts strongly with his dark brown hair. His hair is worn in a regular military style for men, but slightly longer on the top to better style it. His lips are a medium plumpness, whilst not receding from his profile too far. His voice is that of a baritone's, and smooth. He prefers to dress in dark gray pants, a brown trench coat, a light gray button up shirt, coupled with black combat boots and a basswood coloured ascot cap. A dark gray messenger bag slung over his shoulder and breast follows him everywhere he goes.

Back story: Louis lived a normal boys life. He went to school and he worked. He had good grades, and was a very decent engineer. Louis could fix up a lemon with a job so nice you would think Henry Ford made it fresh off the belt. He was 18 before he was drafted into World War 2 as an aircraft engineer. He mostly stayed on deck and fixed them up. Screwing in a loose bolt on the wing, or fixing a bad magneto on planes - Those lucky enough to land. He was paid well enough for him to suck it down and work. He was content that he hadn't been assigned to go fight in the war. Fixing things was what he was good at, and he was quite good. Business wasn't bad, either.

A day came where I was pulled away from a rather nice Hawker Tempest that had all but fallen apart from prop wash. The brass that pulled him away didn't say much, other than I was needed urgently. They sat me down in a chair in front of a few officers, and other people I didn't know. Probably pilots. We were told we were needed on a Vickers Wellington to fly a bombing run over some parts of Occupied France. I felt powerful uneasy by this, seeing as I was just a deck engineer.

Well, that day was the start of a lot of trouble for Louis. His team suited up, and shipped out. Flying a bee-line to Occupied France, as to avoid any dogging. The green light went on for the bomb deck to be cleared for dropping. The crew was in position to drop the payload into some German base. Louis didn't know much about the mission, only that he was supposed to tighten anything that was loose, and patch any holes. The bay doors opened up, and the first bomb glided out of the plane. A rumbling overtook the plane, knocking one or two crew members to the ground. The co-pilot leaned forward in the pit to look for any anomalies. Well, another rumbling shook the plane, and the co-pilot had stretched his neck out a little too far. It was a Flak Cannon that was tracking us. A few pieces of flak cam through the cockpit windows and dug the co-pilot's neck. It all happened so fast, anybody barely had time to react. The pilot tried for the co, but he was lost. A considerable amount of blood had found it way around the cockpit. The pilot yelled for someone to get this body out of the plane, and for someone to take it's place. Louis stood there dumbstruck at what just happened, while everything rushed around him. Another flak burst shook the plane, and shook Louis out of his dumbfoundment. He glanced around, and rested on the scene of the co-pilot being thrown out of the doors of the bombing deck. As that man fell, a piece of Louis' innocence fell with it. No one is really prepared for something like that. A flak burst caught the right wing, bringing it to smoke and flames. The order to bail was given, and no one objected to it. One by one they jumped out of the plane.

As we drifted to Earth, I thought about what I witnessed in the plane. It happened so fast, but it felt like I had seen it a thousand times before now. I looked at the plane and was thankful I wasn't in it. We all rested easy, hoping we would land somewhere docile. We barely had time to hope, because the Krauts were pounding flak again. It mostly just startled us, thinking it was closer than it was. The daft Germans were still shooting at the Wellington.

The five remaining members of the crew sailed closer to the ground, thankful they had survived, and that it looked like they were going to land in a forested area. There wasn't much time to be thankful, as the Germans had re-aimed their cannons at the crew members. One round was shot off, catching one of the bombers in the shoulder. He yelped and grabbed at it, melting in the pain he was suffering. Another two rounds went off. The injured bomber had his shoulder wrapped up in part of his jacket at this point. The crew were fifty feet from the ground, and they hoped and prayed that they would reach it well and breathing. Hope had not met them, for another round went off to their left side. It deafened Louis, he grabbed at the side of his head, looking down at the ground. When he looked up, his heart sank. The pilot and two other bomber were dead. pieces of debris stuck into them in every which way. Louis looked for other bomber who took a scrap to the shoulder. He wasn't there. It was just Louis and three dead bodies floating down to earth. The Germans laid off the flak for the while it took Louis to reach the ground. The bodies and their chutes became tangled in the trees. Louis managed to get his way out of the canopy, and on the ground.

I looked back up after that last shot and seeing the pilot run through the chest with a piece of metal. Just sticking out of him. Blood pouring from his mouth, his eyes glazed over and rolled back. A few other pieces were stuck here and there, as well. I looked around to find the bomb handler and the other engineer dead. They looked down, slumped over slightly with their shoulder shrugged. Just floating in their chutes. All of us were just floating down to Earth. I looked for the bomber who took it in the shoulder, but I couldn't find him. His parachute mustn't ripped, and he fell fifty feet or so to his death. That is, if he survived the shrapnel. I was lucky. I didn't have a scratch on me. The Germans must have saw the body falling, and the men writhing in pain before they died because they laid off the cannons.

Louis stumbled a bit, out into a clearing and collapsed onto his knees. He threw up at his feet, and sobbed into his hands. He looked up to see the body of the co-pilot rearranged into some inhuman pile of blood and meat. Bones were sticking out of his arms and legs, and his head was twisted from the broken neck. His back was retched, too, it bent at the worst angle. Louis looked up and saw the Wellington falling to the ground, when he looked back down he saw another body hit the ground. The injured bomber. He stumbled over to it to see if he was okay, seeing as he hadn't hit the ground too hard. The body landed on it's side and rolled onto it's back. One arm was bent entirely the wrong way out of it's socket. As for the other, there wasn't much to account for, what Louis found was a mangled body. The arm was a bloody stub, it's tendons and muscles handing out in a slop. the bone was splintered right after the elbow." t must has gotten a good hit from the cannon." Louis mumbled sickly before further examining the body. The side of his head was ripped open from the impact ,gray matter leaked out onto the ground. Louis looked at the pile of blood and brain matter in front of him, he then calmly stood up and walked back into the forest after he took the tags of the two bodies, as well as a ramrod pistol he found on the co-pilot. He climbed up a tree and looked at the blood at his hands. He turned then over and then back over and clenched them into a fist. He gripped his stomach and let out a gnarly hurl. He blacked out.
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Just an insight into how my character ended up in France. It's an excerpt from my story chronicling his life.

If you want to know about me personally, feel free to send me a Private Message, or add me on Skype!
Skype: Mypimpsters

Thanks for reading! I look forward to being part of The Site!