Solider

Name: Eli "Ash" Morgan

Gender: Male

Birthday: November 3, 1899

Zodiac Sign: Scorpio

Age: 18–19 years old

Appearance:

Hair: Short, roughly-cut hair dyed a faint purple (unusual and rebellious for the time, perhaps using makeshift dyes or berries—a symbol of quiet defiance).

Eyes: Piercing blue, often described as “too calm for a battlefield.”

Build: Lean but resilient; average height (5'9"), built from farm work before the war.

Clothing/Style: Wears his uniform like armor—clean, but not obsessive. Keeps a photo of his sister in his chest pocket.

Personality Traits:

Intelligent and highly observant, but not showy about it.

Detached Realist: He understands the horror of war but accepts it—"War doesn't care if you're ready. So I stopped trying to be ready."

Protective of others, especially younger or more naive soldiers.

Introverted but intense—a thinker rather than a talker.

Has a dark, dry sense of humor; often uses it to cope.

Favorite Color: Slate Gray – reminds him of stormy skies, muddy trenches, and twilight.

Background:

Grew up in rural Pennsylvania with his mother and younger sister after his father died in a mining accident.

Enlisted not out of patriotism, but to avoid becoming like his father—buried by something he never chose.

Got the nickname “Ash” from a fellow soldier after he helped pull someone from a burning shell crater—emerging covered in soot, eerily calm.

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Eli Morgan was born on a cold November morning in 1899 in rural Pennsylvania, the kind of place where the wind always seemed to carry coal dust and silence. His father, a quiet, broken man who worked the mines, died when Eli was just ten—buried alive during a collapse that no one could explain and even fewer dared to question. After that, it was Eli, his mother, and his little sister June. He learned early that survival didn’t care about fairness.

Eli never saw himself as brave or noble. He was smart—too smart to believe the stories they told about honor and glory. But when the war came calling, he enlisted. Not for country, not even out of duty, but because staying meant becoming a man buried in the same dirt his father died in. The army offered escape, and Eli took it with steady hands.

In France, he earned the name “Ash” after dragging a wounded comrade from a burning crater. He didn’t cry, didn’t scream—just stared into the flames and said, “Guess we’re cooked.” His humor was dry as the mud on his boots, his eyes too old for a teenager.

He dyed his hair purple with crushed berries, a small rebellion against a world that turned boys into ghosts. Others thought it strange, but Eli didn’t care. He understood war for what it was: chaos wearing the mask of purpose. He didn’t seek death, but he didn’t fear it either. He had already learned that in war, sometimes the only wisdom left is knowing when not to fight what’s coming. Before the war, Eli worked odd jobs—farmhand, coal sorter, even a brief stint as a librarian’s assistant, where he secretly read poetry. He was left-handed but trained himself to shoot with both. He once punched a preacher for saying the war was “God’s cleansing fire.” He keeps a locket with a pressed violet from his hometown. He taught his sister to whistle with her fingers—something he still does in the trenches to remind himself he’s alive.

When Eli was fifteen, a traveling preacher came to town, fire in his voice and war in his words. At a crowded gathering on Lantern Hill, he preached that “boys must bleed to make men of themselves.” Eli, standing in the back, clenched his fists. The preacher pointed at him, calling him “soft.” Without hesitation, Eli walked up and punched the man square in the jaw. The crowd gasped. Eli didn’t run. “Maybe men are made by bleeding,” he said, shaking, “but not for your lies.” He was grounded for a month, but word of the punch spread. From then on, people looked at Eli differently—like he knew something they didn’t. In the fall of 1918, during a shelling near Saint-Mihiel, Eli’s unit was pinned in a crater. A young recruit, barely sixteen, panicked and tried to run—straight into machine gun fire. Eli tackled him to the ground just in time, both scraping their arms raw. Later that night, the boy gave Eli a tin sheriff's badge he carried from home, saying, “You're the bravest man I know.” Eli didn’t respond—just took the star and tucked it under his shirt, next to the locket with June’s violet. He still wears it when the sky turns red.

Year: 1918 – It was early October when Eli found himself stuck in a forest outside the Argonne. The rain hadn't stopped for three days. His unit had lost its lieutenant, and command was a rumor passed from one mud-covered soldier to the next. They moved like ghosts between shattered trees, the constant shelling turning the earth into soup. Every step was a choice between sinking or being seen.

One night, Eli was on watch, crouched behind a twisted oak. The fog had settled low and thick, and the only sound was the distant bark of rifles and the soft moans of the wounded. That’s when he saw movement—a German soldier, young, scared, maybe just as lost as Eli. They locked eyes for a moment too long. The German raised his rifle an inch. Eli didn’t flinch. He just whispered, “Don’t.”

Something in his voice must’ve reached the boy. The German lowered his gun, slowly backing into the mist. Eli never told anyone about it. He didn’t feel like a hero—just a kid who’d looked into another kid’s face and saw the same tired soul.

Two days later, that same forest was shelled into oblivion. Eli found the tin star from the young recruit, now bent and caked in blood. He cleaned it off and kept it. In the war, he learned not everything needed action. Sometimes, survival was resistance. Sometimes, mercy was a kind of war too.

World War I, known as the Great War, engulfed much of the globe between 1914 and 1918. It began with a spark—the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria-Hungary—but quickly escalated into a massive conflict driven by tangled alliances, imperial ambition, and rising nationalism.

On one side stood the Allied Powers, led by France, Britain, and Russia, later joined by Italy (1915) and the United States (1917). These nations, though varied in culture and goals, were united in opposition to aggression and expansion by the Central Powers. France, still reeling from its loss in the Franco-Prussian War, sought to reclaim lost territory. Britain aimed to maintain balance in Europe and protect its vast colonial empire. Russia, defending Slavic allies and its position in Eastern Europe, struggled with outdated systems and internal unrest. When the U.S. entered the war after years of neutrality, it brought fresh troops, supplies, and morale, tipping the scale in favor of the Allies.

Opposing them were the Central Powers, dominated by Germany, Austria-Hungary, and the Ottoman Empire, later joined by Bulgaria. Germany, rapidly industrialized and militarized, sought to challenge British naval dominance and assert itself as a global power. Austria-Hungary fought to maintain its fragile, multi-ethnic empire from collapsing under internal dissent and Serbian nationalism. The Ottoman Empire, in decline, aimed to restore influence and survive among stronger neighbors.

Fighting spread across Europe, Africa, and the Middle East, with trench warfare in France, brutal mountain battles in Italy, and desert campaigns in Arabia. The war became a horrifying grind of attrition, where millions died for inches of land. What began as a regional dispute became a global catastrophe, fueled by pride, fear, and empire. The nations fought not only for victory but for survival in a world that was tearing itself apart.

Facts:

Eli is ambidextrous, though he prefers writing with his left hand and shooting with his right.

He keeps a violet pressed in a locket—his sister June gave it to him the day he left. He never told her he nearly lost it twice in battle.

He learned Morse code from a book in his small-town library before the war, just in case.

His favorite food is honey biscuits, and he once traded two packs of cigarettes for a stale one in France.

He whistles under his breath during patrols, not from nerves—but to remember the summer nights back home.

He doesn’t drink, not out of morality, but because he wants his memories sharp—clear enough to carry guilt with clarity.

Secrets:

The purple dye in his hair isn’t just rebellion. It was his sister’s idea—her favorite color, a promise to stand out so she could spot him in newspaper photos or war reels. He laughed at the time. Then he did it anyway.

During a quiet moment near Verdun, he found a diary in a ruined farmhouse—written by a German boy his age. He still carries it, hidden under his uniform, reading it some nights when sleep won’t come.

He once considered desertion. He made it a full mile into the woods before turning back—not out of fear, but because he couldn’t leave the other young men to die alone.

Eli has recurring dreams of a tree on fire, the sky purple, and a boy pointing a rifle at him. He wakes before the shot every time.

He told his family he was a medic. He isn’t. He’s a marksman.

1. Lucien “Luce” Marchand Age: 22 Wound: Lost his left leg at Verdun Appearance: Slender with soft brown curls, clean-shaven, and often wears a faded blue scarf from home. Personality: Gentle and poetic, Lucien used to be a schoolteacher. He writes letters for the illiterate in his ward. Despite the loss of his leg, he maintains a quiet strength and often jokes, “I have one foot in the past and one in nothing.” Secretly devastated by France’s defeat, he hides his sorrow in poetry no one reads.

2. Baptiste Delarue Age: 28 Wound: Shrapnel tore through his shoulder and upper chest Appearance: Rugged face, with a broken nose and storm-gray eyes. Always wears his uniform cap, even indoors. Personality: Fiercely loyal and stubborn, Baptiste once charged a German position with a bayonet while bleeding out. Now bedridden, he struggles with bitterness, constantly replays the war in his head. He refuses German aid and only speaks to fellow Frenchmen. Deep down, he feels he failed those who didn’t make it.

3. Henri “Chouette” Giraud Age: 19 Wound: Blind from a gas attack Appearance: Pale, with sunken eyes and burns on his cheeks; his hands tremble when he’s alone. Personality: Innocent, deeply religious, and kind. His nickname “Chouette” (little owl) came from his love of books and quiet nature. Now blind, he listens more than he speaks. He hums lullabies from childhood and speaks to the wounded as if to guide them. Still believes France will rise again someday—even if not in his time.

4. Marcel Fournier Age: 35 Wound: Severe nerve damage in both hands Appearance: Gaunt and tall, with dark hair streaked prematurely with gray Personality: A former painter, now unable to hold a brush. Marcel rarely speaks, but his eyes burn with quiet rage. He sketches with charcoal in his mouth—haunting, twisted images of smoke, graves, and birds without wings. He hates both sides of the war and dreams not of victory, but of silence. He is respected by younger men, feared by nurses.

1. Jakob “Blitz” Weber Age: 23 Appearance: Wiry build, sharp cheekbones, short-cropped dark hair, and intense green eyes. His helmet is always polished, even in the mud. Personality: Calculated and fast-thinking, Jakob earned the nickname “Blitz” for his quick reflexes in trenches and arguments. He believes in discipline but quietly questions the war’s purpose. He often sketches birds in his notebook between patrols, imagining freedom he can’t reach.

2. Otto Kraus Age: 30 Appearance: Stocky and broad-shouldered, with a thick beard and a constant grim expression. His eyes are pale blue, often unreadable. Personality: Gruff and stoic, Otto rarely speaks unless necessary. He’s deeply loyal to his unit and acts as a protector to the younger recruits. Before the war, he was a blacksmith. His hands are calloused and scarred—more comfortable holding tools than a rifle. He’s feared in combat, but feeds stray dogs near the camp when no one is watching.

3. Emil Roth Age: 19 Appearance: Blond, baby-faced, with freckles and glasses cracked on one side. His uniform hangs loosely on him. Personality: Naïve and optimistic, Emil volunteered thinking the war would be brief. He keeps a diary addressed to his mother that he updates daily. Nervous under fire, but brave when it counts. He once sang a lullaby to calm a wounded comrade, then cried silently the rest of the night. He still believes people are mostly good.

4. Friedrich Adler Age: 26 Appearance: Tall, with dark auburn hair slicked back, and cold gray eyes. Wears a ring from his fiancée back in Dresden. Personality: Intelligent, cynical, and strategic. A former law student, Friedrich sees war as a chessboard—something to win. He speaks fluent French and occasionally translates intercepted letters. He trusts no one completely but respects courage in any uniform, even the enemy’s.

Eli was born into a quiet house in rural Pennsylvania—just three people beneath a leaking tin roof: his father Samuel, his mother Clara, and later, his younger sister June. His father worked the coal mines, a man of few words and endless fatigue. He rarely raised his voice, but the tension in the house ran deep, like the creaking timbers of a shaft ready to collapse. Samuel died in a mine accident when Eli was ten. No one spoke about it much afterward. His mother just kept working, scrubbing clothes, mending seams, and staring out the window at nothing. She hardened after Samuel's death—not cruel, but distant, carrying grief like a stone she refused to set down.

Eli became the man of the house too early. He was protective of June from the beginning—reading to her at night, fixing her toys, teaching her how to whistle with her fingers. She was sunshine in a worn-out world: curious, bold, always asking why. She’s the reason he has that violet in his locket. She gave it to him before he left for war and said, “So you remember someone’s waiting.”

He never told her the truth about what he did at the front. In his letters, he said he was helping patch wounds, passing supplies. She wrote back about school and dreams and waiting for spring. Their bond was quiet but unbreakable.

Clara, meanwhile, didn’t write much. One stiff letter every few months, signed with “Be safe” but never “I miss you.” She loved her son, but she didn’t know how to show it—too afraid she might lose him, too. Eli carries that silence with him, along with June’s laughter and the ghost of his father’s last breath. His family taught him strength, but also distance—and in war, both kept him alive Ash: Quirks:

Wears his sister’s violet: Tucked in a locket under his uniform, it’s the only thing that feels like home.

Talks to his rifle: Eli doesn’t do it for superstition; it’s just a habit. When things are tough, he’ll mutter to it like it’s a friend.

Position as a Soldier-Marksman.

Eli “Ash” Morgan’s reputation was one of quiet strength and unsettling calm. On the surface, he was the kind of soldier who didn’t speak much, didn’t seek attention, but when the bullets started flying, he was always in the right place, doing the right thing. He didn’t do it for glory—he did it because, as he once said, “It’s not about surviving. It’s about not letting anyone else die alone.”

His nickname, “Ash,” wasn’t just because of his ashen-colored hair or his calm demeanor under fire. It came from the way he carried himself after the first few months in the trenches. The nickname spread after he pulled a fellow soldier from a flaming crater, both of them covered in soot, emerging like two phantoms from hell. Eli didn’t flinch. He didn’t even seem to breathe hard afterward. He just stared at the smoldering wreckage, as if he had seen it all before.

To his comrades, Eli was something of an enigma. He was protective but never in a showy way, looking out for the younger or more fragile soldiers, guiding them when necessary, but always without fanfare. He was always prepared—no one ever saw him hesitate to make a decision. It was as if he knew instinctively when to fight and when to fall back. His calm under fire was contagious. When panic started to spread through the ranks, a few whispered Eli’s name, and the madness would subside.

But it wasn’t just his battlefield reputation that set him apart. It was his restraint, his refusal to be part of the usual bravado. Some soldiers admired him, others didn’t understand him. They said he was “too quiet,” “too detached,” but there was always respect. In the trenches, no one ever questioned Ash’s loyalty. But they knew—if something was meant to happen, if they were going to die, Ash would accept it. Because he understood what war was better than anyone else.

Eli is highly skilled with a rifle, calm and precise. His job often involves reconnaissance and picking off key targets from a distance. He’s not a fan of the violence but knows it’s necessary in war. His calm demeanor makes him a natural leader in tactical situations, even if he never asks for that role. Eli’s relationships are shaped by his quiet nature and the scars of war.

June (Sister): Eli’s rock. They were inseparable growing up. She gave him the violet in the locket before he left, a promise that no matter the distance, she would be waiting. He loves her more than anything, but he’s unable to share the brutal truth of war with her, wanting to protect her innocence.

Clara (Mother): Their bond is distant, strained by grief. Clara’s stoic nature hardened after Samuel’s death, and her letters to Eli are brief, always signed “Be safe,” never “I miss you.” Though she loves him, their communication is emotionally withdrawn.

Fellow Soldiers: Eli is respected for his cool-headedness under fire, but his quietness isolates him. Some admire his stoicism, while others don’t understand his detachment. He forms few close friendships but is fiercely loyal to those he trusts. He’s protective of the younger men, taking on a brotherly role in silence.

Enemy Soldiers: Eli is conflicted. He sees them not as faceless enemies, but as boys forced into the same nightmare. He’s never cruel, but he knows he must do his duty. He carries a German soldier’s diary, a silent acknowledgment of their shared humanity.

Ash: Likes: Quiet moments: Eli cherishes small moments of peace—like when the sun breaks through the clouds after a storm or when he can hear the birds chirping before the world starts to move again. It’s a feeling he only gets when he’s not on duty.

Reading: Before the war, Eli loved books, especially those about adventure and survival. He still reads whenever he gets the chance, using the letters from his sister to escape into her world of simple things.

Dandelions: The only flower he’s ever cared for. It reminds him of home, of June’s laugh, and of simpler times.

Dislikes:

Loud noises: The constant explosions, the shouting, the deafening chaos—it’s a sensory overload that gnaws at him. He doesn’t show it, but the noise unsettles him deeply.

False bravado: Eli can’t stand the soldiers who boast about their kills or swagger around as if the war is a game. To him, war is nothing but survival, and nothing should be glorified.

Cowardice in others: He hates seeing others freeze in fear or abandon their comrades. He’s been scared plenty, but fear is a part of war—it's how you deal with it that matters.

Habits:

Whistling: A soft, tuneless whistle helps Eli stay focused. It’s his way of keeping his thoughts together when everything feels too loud.

Cleaning his rifle: A way to center himself. He checks it every night, even when there’s no threat, ensuring it’s always in perfect condition.

Fears:

Losing control: Eli fears losing his calm when it matters most, breaking down under the pressure of war or losing his grip on his humanity.

Not returning home: The thought of never seeing June again keeps him awake at night. He’s terrified of never getting the chance to fulfill the promise he made to her.

Desires:

To survive the war: Not for glory, but so he can return to the life that was stolen from him. To rebuild, to be a brother again, and to have a chance to live outside the horrors of battle.

Peace of mind