Arthur Kirkland Application

Name: Arthur Kirkland
Age: 25
Nationality: British
Prisoner/Guard: Prisoner
The time they've been in the camp: Two years

Appearance: Arthur is somewhat short, coming up to about 5’9”. Not too short, but when compared to his brother and some of the other men around him, he felt rather small. His hair is a light, sandy blond, and always looks a little like he’s been dragged through a hedge backwards. It has always been messy, and no amount of vigorous combing could fix that, no matter how much his mother tried. When he first signed up, they cut his hair in to a buzz cut, but during the heats of battle, it grew and of course, nobody bothered to cut it again when there were more pressing matters. Now, he keeps it fairly short, cutting it whenever he could get a hold on a razor, He’s never been one for moustaches, much to his father’s aggravation, He looked too much like a child, he said. He’s never had a moustache, but being unable to shave much in the camp, he oftentimes had a light stubble on his chin.

He has always valued looking respectable and neat, even if his hair is messy, and even if he doesn’t have a moustache. He always makes sure his clothes and bunk are neat and ready for inspection. He doesn’t smile often, less even now than before, and scowls most of the time. He doesn’t talk to the other prisoner, so they think of him as crazy or unapproachable and tend to stay away.

Personality: Arthur is, primarily, stubborn and severe. He doesn’t back down easily, if he ever does at all, even if he knows he’s wrong, and will fight his point to the bitter end. If he ever backs down, it’s a sign that something is different, that perhaps he cares about the person he’s fighting with too much to fight, or something is very wrong with him. He’s also very strict, he has his principles and he sticks to them vehemently, penalizing anybody who goes against them. He has manners and he expects everyone else to have them as well; they maybe prisoners of war, but they certainly were not animals.

He seems to have very little sense of self preservation. Occasionally, a guard will get bored and decide that they’ll ‘interrogate’ a prisoner. Arthur never speaks, only goads them, no matter what they do to him. His spirit is strong and never breaks, no matter how much his captors try. He tries to escape constantly, and has a nasty habit of muttering to himself, something left over from his childhood. The times when he's most animated is when he's messing with the guards. When they get new guards, he likes to push them to see how much leeway he has before he's punished. It's rather self distructive, but he does it. He also likes to steal things from the guards to annoy them, borderline kleptomaniac, they claim, but he only does it to bother the goons.

He smokes, but not heavily, so often, he’ll give up his cigarettes for things he wants more, such as tea. Tea comes before everything else, and whenever there’s a Red Cross package, he’s willing to trade as many cigarettes as it takes for even one tea bag.

History: Arthur was born in the Cotswolds, the youngest of five and the last ditch attempt by his parents to save their loveless marriage. It didn’t work, of course, but they never left each other, just became distant, so Arthur and his brothers grew up with very little love in their lives, Arthur more so than the others. There was only a six years between the oldest child and the second youngest, but between Arthur and his closest brother, there was a whole seven years.

All of Arthur’s brothers went to boarding school for secondary school and up, and by the time Arthur was born, all of his brothers but one were already there, away for all but holidays. He grew up rather lonely because of it, oftentimes having to make up his own little games from his imagination. He made up magical creatures, they were his best friends. There was a unicorn at the end of the garden, fairies under the bed and elves in his wardrobe. His parents worried, despite the fact that they were assured it was normal. It was just to strange for them, it wasn’t normal enough.

So of course, by the time he was sent to nursery school, it had to be stamped out. They told him off for it, and he was forced to play with other children. Eventually, he became quieter about his imagination, but left by himself at home, it never really left him. Later, he just turned to writing to express it.

Arthur was naturally rather intelligent, meaning he aced his 11+, his O levels and A levels with relative ease. He went to the same school his brothers had been to, where the Kirkland boys were legendary, His older brothers had mostly coped with the fact that their family was distant by becoming pranksters, and Arthur hardly lived up to that. He was quiet and studious, preferring to study or read in the library instead of sneak out with the catholic boarding school across the hall for swing parties.

He was accepted in to Oxford university to study English, and loved it. He excelled and the professors were impressed at his original interpretations and the way he articulated his thoughts. He wrote his own work often as well, but never showed anyone. He would later describe the time he spent at Oxford as the best of his life. After obtaining his degree, he decided to become a scholar and joined a post graduate course. He planned, eventually, after writing a few books, both literary works and reviews of classic works, perhaps learn Latin or Greek so he could read the true classics.

Then, the beginning of September of his second year, tragedy struck. War broke out between Germany, another war. His father had been injured in the Great War, it had drove his parents even further apart. But in a fit of patriotism, he joined the Army with a group of his friends, abandoning his university course.

He found the army more difficult than any other endeavour, having to be disciplined, strong, and endure so much. It nurtured the strict side in himself and, too prideful to let himself be beaten, he excelled there. He was sent to Dunkirk in 1940, where circumstances went against him. He was left behind, shot in the leg, unable to run fast enough. After a day, the Germans found him and took him as a prisoner of war.

What happened after that was a bit of a daze. The interrogation, where, despite what they asked him, repeated his name and serial number repeating loudly the more they talked. Then, he was transported to the camp, and there he stayed.

After living 2 years in the camp, though he loathe to admit it, he speaks relatively good German. It’s easier when working in the village, He doesn’t speak with the villagers much, and they tend to stay away from him, particularly the children. For a while, the children would try to attack him for being one of the enemy but most of them had learned very quickly that he held no truck with ‘snot nosed gerry brats’ and eventually, they became used to him and he became used to them.

He’s infamous for trying to escape, on at least his 30th already. There is an agreement with the guards that he won’t use any tools, such as shovels, but anything less, they won’t cause a fuss. It’s a scource of amusement for the guards and it passes the time for him. He keeps trying, though he knows that if he does escape, the chances of him getting out of Germany are slim to none, especially with no help, no costumes, no weapon and no map. He reckons he’d probably end up in Berlin.

RP Sample: Arthur ran a hand through his hair sleepily, sitting up on the bed and stretching. Ah, he did love the cooler, he got to sleep as much as he want, to do whatever he wanted. Yeah, they took the cigarettes from him, but he didn’t care about cigarettes, he’d prefer tea.

The door was opened and he sat up. “Frühstück,” The guard said, and put a plate on the table, then a bucket of water on the floor for him to wash with.

“Already?” He said in his briskly and purposefully English, with the accent clear, “I’m not dressed yet.” The guard just stared at him blankly, and Arthur stood, motioning to his clothes, “Not dressed yet!” He said louder, “Why can’t you Nazis speak bloody English, it would make things a damn sight easier.” More staring, and a scowl. “Hau ab!” He finally barked.

The guard grumbled something in German but turned away to leave. Arthur didn’t say any more, just turned to wash his face, body and hair briefly in the icy water and with the terrible bar of soap that smelled like the fat it was made from. They didn’t bother with the quality stuff for prisoners.

He did enjoy the cooler. Some people went mad in the cooler after five minutes, the small space, the lack of human contact, that was what it was meant to do. But Arthur liked solitary, he was used to using his own imagination, to not talking, and at least this way he wasn’t subjected to the bloody yanks who had suddenly come in the last few weeks. Between living with a bunch of loud mouthed Americans and the Germans, Arthur was sure he’d pick the Germans. At least they didn’t bother making conversation with him.

He sat down to breakfast. Just bread, really, with some kind of gruel thing. The bread was shit. Hard and grainy, and not very well baked. What had they put in the flour to make it last longer? Because it was going to take his teeth out eventually. Still, it wasn’t any better in the army or back home, everything tasted disgusting.


Out of character
Name: Lauren
Timezone/Country: England, so GMT+0
Age: 17
A little about yourself: This is my forum, I rp a few other places, and England is my favourite character, though I also play Britannia (OC) Germania, Japan and maybe Poland. I want to study Biomedical science at uni
Anything Else?: Blue. :I