Apologies, gentlefolk, but the BAF is close on 40+ members right now. For server faction balance reasons I am closing this recruitment until further notice. If you wish to join a Bretonian faction, try the BPA.
Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.
Orders had come down from the Admiralty, interrupting the recruitment officer's long vacation.
"Firstly, proceed to the Bretonian Territorial Authority's Swansea Barracks. The following pilots are being transferred to the Bretonian Armed Forces as Ensigns:
John Rivers
Alina Farwyn
John Everyman
Jake Blackstar
Provide them their neccessaries, and give them squadron assignments.
Secondly, the New London recruitment office is re-opened. Production of new fighters has finally exceeded replacement levels."
Borned and raised on planet Pittsburgh by my mother Celeste Longhorn. My Danish dad, Tor Longhorn died early in my life in an airplane
crash during a rescue mission of refugees. I had a criminal racecourse in high school, but an experiment with anabolic steroids put me on the hospital bed for
several months - marking an end to the bad deeds.
After the death of my dad my mother saved some of the money from my dad's life insurance to spend on me when I
got old enough. She gave them to me when I returned from the hospital, and I decided to put them to good use.
I barely managed to grade the high school good enough to continue to Epic Flight Academy, but I
wanted to become a pilot, and here I am, ready to learn how to fly in space.
* Reasons for joining: I need to compensate for the bad deeds I've done, and prove to myself that justice exists.
Hear and accept my call and you'll have a true loyal pilot to your ranks in the Bretonian Armed Forces.
Criminal record:
- A fine of $1500 for possession of 0.8mg MDMA.
- ID faking
The young man, finely dressed and trimmed, strode into the recruiting office. Identity papers in hand, he approached the sergeant sitting idly at the desk.
“Where do I sign up?”
The sergeant mentally rolled his eyes before pushing his chair and himself backwards towards a cabinet. He shifted through various papers, looking for the enrolment documents. He found them, picked one up and rolled himself back.
“Here” He handed the young man the document. “Sign on the line”
The young man took the document and sat down, filling in the various question boxes. A several minutes he was done, he handed the document back to the sergeant.
The sergeant looked over the document.
Name: Bartholomew Bell Age: 23 Height: 5 foot 10 inches Weight: 148 lbs Most recent place of education: Royal Military Academy of New London
Brief History;
I come from a noble and prestigious family, we have served Bretonia since the first hour that we set down in our glorious region of space. Countless members of my family has served, in some capacity, in the armed forces, from pilots to engineers, we have served our nation long.
I was born on and grew up on New London, attending the King Edwards school of primary & secondary education. I eventually attended the Royal Military Academy of New London, although I passed many of the classes with “flying colours”, I was particularly commended on my boarding action simulations and ship engineering.
As with most members of my family, I explored the galaxy for two years, to insure that I understood the political and military cultures of the other houses. I returned home three days ago, after a family reunion and several celebrations I arrived here.
Reason for joining the Armed Forces;
As I wrote in the previous question box, my family has a long and prestigious history in the armed forces, for instance, my great-great grandfather was one of the monarchs personal guards. Other members of my family also serveed in illustrious positions.
I would, of course, also want to defend our great house. Many doomsayers have claimed that the Kusarians will destroy us, but I know that Bretonia will stand firm and true in the face of adversity, I know that we will win, I know that we will send them back to their homes in wooden boxes and urns. I know that Bretonia has always and always shall be the star that shines through the storm.
Last, but not at all least, I feel it is my duty to serve Bretonia. Not just as repayment for the wonderous life that I have enjoyed. But also for the sacrifices that the monarch and armed forced endure, each and every day.
Other information (Optional);
I enjoyed many activities whilst at the academy, including fencing, hunting and plasma ball. I was a fine swordsman and a fine shooter if I may say so myself.
"Aight, get that pair into my office," he said down his intercom to the secretary, making every effort to sound inebriated as she claimed. He had a reputation to keep up, apparently.
"Yes, of course, Admiral Andrews..."
She then sent the two young men in to speak to what appeared to be a rather drunken admiral with a strange beard. Was it even real? It didn't matter, anyway.
He smartened up instantaneously, in spite of the smell of liquor pervading the room.
"Good morning, gentlemen. Don't salute, you're still civilians, heheh...
Anyway, you'll want to fill these forms in, and then we'll see about a little interview, but I'm sure you'll do just fine, aye?"
He looked over the pair of recruits. The rich looking one was probably the noble kid. The one with the freakish muscles was probably the one that had been on steroids. It didn't take him long to work out who he thought could crush a ping pong quicker.
What is the worst thing about the Bretonian Armed Forces' ship of choice, the 'Templar' very heavy fighter?"
He liked to give them funny questions like this to see what crap they came up with. He pretended it was a character-building exercise, but he really just found it kind of fun.
Andrews pulled a crumpled scrap of paper from his back pocket...
"Yep, that's on the list of accepted answers..."
He showed it to the recruit. Written in ink (horribly smudged, of course), lacking an official seal or emblem, it nonetheless listed a bunch of qualities which were bad about the Templar.
They included:
The colour being girly
The fact it looks like a lobster
The piloting being substandard
The lack of 'go faster stripes'
The lack of suitable receptacles for liquor/tea/deep fried pizza
Slow neuralnet connections to video upload pages
and...
The fact that it isn't a convertible.
"Congratulations, kiddo, you're in. Go get yer uniform and standard issue sidearm, and get your fighter ready!"
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