I would prefer to keep the year undefined. That way we don't have to be slaves to historical accuracy. :P Just say "it's the Old West," and anything that was part of the Old West can be used in the battle. :P
Carpe diem! Member of the UG since October 4th, 2012
Hmm. I hadn't thought of weaknesses and history, which is odd since those are usually my favorites. 0.o I blame it on still being sick. I think ill add those, plus pronounciation on a few that need it. Such as Merlin. I'd add abilities, but I prefer to just kinda come up with those as I go, keeping them reasonable to the charries background.
Gaming characters are absolutely the best part I'm probably gonna use a hybrid profile based off good old CaC2 (<3 forever) I'm glad we're keeping weaknesses and such in mind...it really makes a huge difference when people don't just assume that their character can do and have anything they need whenever they need it. Which is sadly often the case.
SO EVERYONE PLEASE READ THIS DISCUSSION AND TAKE NOTE.
And while I'm hollering announcements, I would also request that all participants please stay committed to the plots you are involved in. Nearly every RP I've ever been in has suffered from people just up and leaving. Please realize that you are basically chaining everyone else's characters to a tree when that happens. So even if it gets a little slow, please be considerate, kay? Thank you!
Alright I gotta get to bed. Going back to college tomorrow. Night all
Heh. Well, I'll try. Honest to goodness I will. But my problem isn't so much it's slow, as it is I have a busy life and people move on without me and I can't keep up. Slow I can do. That's why I dropped out of CaC2 and the supers.
Anyhow. I'll probably have my charries up tonight at the rate I'm going. Three down, one just needing the extras, one halfway, and one not started.
Name: Enapay Pronunciation: EHNAP-EY Gender: Male Age: 19 Occupation: Lakota Sioux. Description: A well-built man, with pepper-black eyes and skin the color of nutmeg. Dark hair pours down his back, thick and liquid, like molasses. Possesses the uncanny grace of a hunter. Enapay usually appears to be scowling, but there’s no anger behind it—his mouth naturally turns down, and his eyes have a severe slant. Wears a deerskin breachcloth, leggings, beaded moccasins and a blue-quilled shirt. Personality: Outwardly confident. Inwardly quailing. Pretends to know his way around, but often feels as though he is sliding off a cliff. Seeks the wilderness in hopes of shaping himself into a stronger man. History: Born into a nomadic tribe of Lakota. Spent his childhood on the Great Plains, but recent events have led Enapay beyond Sioux territory. Weapons: Revolver, knives, bow and arrow for hunting. Armor: Deerskin clothing. Notable Possessions: A dusty mare named Shappa. Abilities: Decent trapper. Practiced hunter. Speaks English, but prefers Plains sign language or Siouan. Weaknesses: His deerskin clothing provides very little protection. Other: None.
((Cool. Here's Merlin at least. The others still need a little more work and I'm getting tired. Lol.))
Name: Marciano Renz Giovanni Agresta, goes by Merlin. Pronunciation: Mar-see-ah-no Reh-nz Geo-vah-nee Ah-gres-tah. Age: 19 Gender: Male Occupation: Con man, works for Madoc to help pay off Harlow's debt. Specialises in cards. Description: Medium height, medium build, medium brown hair. He keeps his hair cropped too short to curl, but it does wave and he has a few strands that curl anyway. Looks almost exactly like a young Giacomo Agostini. Has one well made suit he 'borrowed' from a 'friend' he was conning. Its well tailored,and if a tad old fashioned it does its job in making him look like a rich boy down on his luck. In his downtime. When he's working for Madoc he wears tan slacks held up by suspenders, a white button up, and a brown vest. His sleeves are made intentionally too long and he either wears them with a sleeve garter or rolls them up. He wears a flat cap with this usually, because he doesn't wear his beloved pork pie anytime it could be damaged. He also has a pair of Oxford bags and a knit jersey just in case the occasion calls for it. Personality: Obviously he changes personalities like clothes, but when he isn't acting he tends to be straightforward and blunt. Weaknesses: Is always just the slightest bit lost and searching for something 'real'. Is inclined towards drink to treat bouts of depression. History: Born the youngest of seven to an Italian immigrant and the daughter of Irish immigrants. His dad was busy working from sunup to sundown and didn't spend much time at home, and his mom died in childbirth with the eighth Agresta baby when he was six. That left him and his baby sister to the mercy of his brothers, and after getting his eye blacked out for the seventh time in as many weeks he left with her when he was eight. But within two months the little girl had caught an illness and died. He lived with a gang of thieves for a while, brawling his way to the top before he got caught nicking a book from a bookstore to try and finish his education. The man took Merlin in as his apprentice and in return for the boy's work he educated, clothed, and fed him. When the man died and the family didn't honor the provisions in his will for Merlin, he went back out on the streets at thirteen and reverted to crime. For a year and a half he went it alone, but then took Harlow on as a partner when she tried to cut in and con his mark. Notable Possessions: His porkpie hat, knife, and a fancy lady's handkerchief that has become grimy and stained with the lace falling apart in tatters. It was his mother's prized possession, and he'd kept it to pass it down to his sister. When she died too, he'd kept it as a reminder of the only family he'd felt love for.
Name: Dean Reilly Pronunciation: DEEN RYE-lee Gender: Male Age: 22 Occupation: Informant (for the police) Description: A wee Irish lad. Pale as the moon, slender as a blade of grass. Dean’s hair is cognac-brown. Smiles easily, laughs often, but his eyes have a sleepless quality. Always wears a rumpled shirt and tattered tweed jacket. Looks like a man who just washed up on a desert island. Personality: Dean drags guilt behind him like a broken leg. He makes friends everywhere, but rarely shares anything personal. Prefers to focus on other people. Can often be found socializing at speakeasies, carrying drunks home or picking up the tab for a friend. Most people attribute this to Dean’s golden heart. But honestly, he just wants to stave off guilt. History: Born in Chicago, the son of Irish immigrants. Showed talent in mathmatics as a child. His parents skipped meals to save money for college, but when Dean couldn’t compete with his classmates, he broke beneath the stress and used alcohol as a crutch. Soon he was missing class in favor of the speakeasy. Northwestern University eventually stripped his scholarship, but Dean couldn’t bear to face his parents. Lived in a Catholic homeless shelter for several months. One of the priests convinced him to return to Chicago, but unfortunately the prodigal son wasn’t welcomed back with open arms. Armor: Tweed jacket, rumpled shirt. Weapons: Revolver tucked in the back of his trousers. Abilities: A fast talker. Knows how to craft a lie. Weaknesses: Shattered confidence, fragile health, difficulty coping with stress.))
Carpe diem! Member of the UG since October 4th, 2012
((I got one more after this, but I might not put her up for a while. She's a rich girl playing at being a flapper. ))
Name: May Harlow, goes by her last name. Age: 20 Gender: Female Occupation: Con woman, works for Madoc to pay off a debt. Description: Short with an average build. Brown hair she styles in a faux bob, Looks a lot like Clara Bow. Personality: Brilliant actress. When not working a con, she's a generally a happy, personable flirt. Poster child for one of the bright young things. Believes in partying when you can because life is hard and short and you get happiness only when you steal it. Weaknesses: Impulsive, better at running than fighting History:Her father indentured her to Madoc when she was five or six to pay off a debt that was then transferred to her. Madoc then spared no expense training her in conning, forgery, you name it and he got the best of the best in to teach his young protégé. This of course only ran her debt up further. Now she works odd jobs, preforms in Madoc's speakeasy, and cons people in order to pay the crooked man back. Notable Possessions: A pretty string of paste pearls Merlin nicked for her, its the first pretty thing she's owned for herself. The first thing she's owned herself period.
Name: Edmund Madoc Pronunciation: Mad-ick Age: A respectable 62. Gender: Male Occupation: Owns a speakeasy, blackmailer Description: Medium height, semi stooped. Looks a lot like Calahan from Big Hero Six face wise. Uses a cane to walk. Balding and gray. Wears a nice suit that suitably shows off his hard earned wealth. Is nearly always followed by a bodyguard that can't be bought off. Personality: Friendly and approachable. Very calculating, though he doesn't show it, and never talks about himself. Likes to flaunt his wealth. Weaknesses: He's beginning to become arthritic, paranoid. History: Spent his childhood on the streets of New York, before being taken in by a kindly, rich, woman and her husband who wanted children but couldn't have any. He spent a few years dancing to their tune, but when he was sixteen he hired a local gangster to gun down the man for a share of the profits. Madoc then then turned on the gangster and turned him into the law , getting out of the man's accusations based on his upstanding character, his "mother's" glowing testimony, and the fact that even the gangster had to admit that Madoc had never paid him a red cent. Unfortunately two months later his mother's heart failed in her sleep, the doctor declared it was because of a broken heart, and Madoc was the sole heir to a great fortune. He nearly got busted running a gang of criminals, all indentured to him, and moved to Chicago thirty years ago. Notable Possessions: His cane carved from purple heart wood with a gold handle, a gun, expensive car, the speakeasy.
Name: Malachi Baker Pronunciation: Mal-a-kai Age: 23 Gender: Male Occupation: Bootlegging moonshiner, the spokesman Description: Tall, slender build. Blond with blue eyes. Long face with a thin nose and thin lips. Has one set of "Sunday " clothes, gray slacks, a nice white button up with the especially long sleeves to be worn with sleeve garters, and a nice gray vest. When he's not inside a church he wears it with a gray flat cap. While out slogging around making and transporting moonshine, he wears stained up work clothes and a tattered brown flat cap. Personality: Easy going and friendly. Deeply religious and superstitious. Always prays over the people his sister snuffs out, to her annoyance. Won't intentionally take a life and goes to great pains to avoid it. Is generally an all around good boy who plans on getting out of crime as soon as he's got enough put aside. A dreamer. Weaknesses:Would rather put himself in unnecessary danger than hurt someone else, very superstitious. History: Grew up in a fairly stable family until his father broke his back in a mine collapse. Their savings were nonexistent, so as soon as he could he left for Chicago to find work. When he couldn't find anything that paid enough on the up and up, he turned to bootlegging early in the prohibition. Daze tags along with him simply because he can't keep her out of trouble anyway, and he prefers her somewhere he can protect her if he has to. Sends half the money he earns to his Ma to keep her well taken care of. Notable possessions: The family Bible, his father's lucky brown work cap, brass knuckles, a small pocket gun just in case.
Name: Daisy "Daze" Baker Age: Seventeen Gender: Female Occupation: Bootlegging moonshiner, the muscle Description: Short, stocky, well muscled. Bobbed blond hair, brown eyes. Round face, thick nose, full lips with a scar that runs from the corner of her right nostril to the top of her lip. (Sort of like Regina's from ouat). Usually wears a brown knit sweater with twenties women's bloomer looking trousers and sturdy leather boots. This is for when she's 'working', and just about every other time she can get away with it and has a brown wool dress for when she can't. Personality: Pragmatic and on occasion sullen. Isn't likely to trust anyone, has a low tolerance for anything she considers stupid, but does suffer through her brother's quirks. Is very trigger happy. Weaknesses: Short temper, small limp from a childhood injury. History: Same as Malachi's Notable possessions: Her gun and her knife.
((So. If someone else wants to own a speakeasy I was thinking the Bakers would supply them. If'n not, then my moonshiners will supply Madoc. ))
Name: Aine O'Donnell Pronunciation: On-ya Gender: Female Age: 18 Occupation: Server at a bar, Newsie on the side Description: 5'7", ragged and dirt-colored hair (original color unknown), grey-green eyes, freckles (if you can get under the dirt) and a thin build. Personality: Quick-witted, always thinking but not really good at keeping control over her mouth. Never misses a chance to earn some extra cash. History: Boarded the Titanic with her family when she was little. Lost her father during the disaster, then her mother a few years later due to illness. Her younger brother was adopted, but she was sent to multiple orphanages before deciding to quit the cycle and fend for herself. After a few years, she managed to convince the owner of a bar at that she was going to work there, or, by heaven, she'd see his establishment go bankrupt. Weapons: A rolled-up newspaper, glass bottle (contents vary) and a sharp right hook to the kisser if you look at her the wrong way. Clothes: Whatever she can lay her hands on, and a newsboy's cap (not when she's working, though). Usually wears a faded grey dress with an apron. Abilities: Can multi-task, beg, wheedle and sass. Pick-pocketing as well, but that's on a need-to-know basis. Weaknesses: Young boys (remind her of her brother), any sort of hospital or boat, and the fear of physical harm coming from someone else. Notable Possessions: Her newsboy cap, a handkerchief of her mother's and her father's tie. ))
Post by Aviar Goldeneagle on Jan 12, 2016 2:38:40 GMT
((Here's my prohibition era character. I'll try and get one up for the Old West sometime soon.
Name: Milton Harvey
Pronunciation: Mil-tin Har-vee
Occupation: Currently working as a henchman for a mob boss, but often switches through different crime jobs and works for different bosses.
Description: A short, thin man, wiry, but not with great strength. Dark hair, green eyes. Personality: Smooth talker, con guy. Can change his personality when needed—a bit of an actor. He doesn’t currently care for anyone other than himself and will go wherever he thinks it will most profit him.
History: As a young teenager he suffered a bad concussion. He woke up lying in the street and as a result from the blow now has amnesia and can only remember faint snatches of his early life. He can’t remember who his parents were or where he lived. He has rebuilt his life by working for whoever will profit him the most and has gained many varied skills that now come in useful as he works as a henchman, crossing and double crossing former bosses and other people. Since he couldn’t remember his name, he renamed himself with a name that he thought sounded good.
Weapons: A Colt Model 1908 Vest Pocket which he always keeps with him, as well as a M1911 pistol. He also has a M1921 Tommy Gun that he doesn’t always take with him. He also has a short knife with a sharp hook on the end which he finds useful in varying situations.
Clothes: He usually wears a tough leather coat, but his clothing will depend on the situation.
Weaknesses: The feeling that he doesn’t know his past can sometimes begin to drive him to madness, and knowing this he tries to keep busy so that the feeling doesn’t overcome him. He knows that the only way to free himself from this dementia is to find out what his past actually is, however, continually trying to figure it out makes the feeling return. So he’s seemingly locked in a vicious circle from which there is currently no escape. He tries to find what balance he can so that he stays in his right mind while also attempting to figure out his past. It’s tough for him.
Notable Possessions: Guns, knife. He also has a small box which he found on him when he woke up in the street and couldn’t remember his past. In this box are a few tiny objects.))
jliessa44: I'm willing to supply the speakeasy. Your guys had better give me a good price, though. ;) ))
Speakeasies weren't known for their cleanliness, but Madeline was tidy to a fault. She mopped twice a day. Waxed the dance floor. Swept french fries out from under the booths, and rubbed the tabletops to a pristine glow. Perfect, she thought, surveying her handiwork. For the moment, anyway. The lunch rush was bound to knock her barstools out of symmetry, but until then, Madeline allowed herself a sigh of satisfaction. Now for the inventory. She glanced up at the glass liquor cabinet. Running low on vodka, vermouth, gin, Guiness...
Carpe diem! Member of the UG since October 4th, 2012
Malachi drove the car. Last time Daze had it they'd nearly blown up in a fiery death. What with all the liquor they had in the back, about the best they could hope for was an explosion that killed quickly and fumes that could make you drunk. "Now remember, we gots ta keep this one. No more shootin' up the middlemen 'cause you don't like their price."
His sweet little sister rolled her eyes, and gave the gun in her lap a small pat. "It was highway robbery that was."
"You don't go shootin' a man for what his boss says." Malachi turned to glare at her. "Or so help me, I'm shipping you home to Ma where you can wear dresses all day for all I care. Got it?"
Daze's sullen tone brought a smile to his face as he turned back to the road and swerved to miss an incoming car. "Now we's almost at the place. Sos look lively."
The doorbell chimed. Already? Madeline bit back a groan. She had just finished alphabetizing her bottles, and the customer was bound to get fingerprints on the bar. "What'll it be?" She snapped the cabinet shut, and turned to face the patron. "Bloody Mary? Vesper? Gin and tonic?" "Guiness please." No surprise there. His accent had an Irish lilt, and he leaned anxiously across the counter, something Madeline had come to expect from immigrants. She poured a beer and slid it across the bar to him. Hopefully he wouldn't order another. That was the last of her Guiness.
Carpe diem! Member of the UG since October 4th, 2012
Madeline glanced back. Somebody was knocking on the kitchen door... but could she leave the bar unattended? Maybe just for a moment. The Irishman didn't look like a threat. And anyway, the register had been skimmed after the breakfast rush. She gave her customer a warning glare, then marched off to the kitchen. "What do you want?" Madeline cracked the door.
Seeing as the person answering was a lady, Malachi snatched off his tattered flat cap. Worrying it between his hands, he jerked his head towards the banged up truck. "We got the panther sweat for yous drum, so to speak. I know we's a little late, but we're here now."
Post by Aviar Goldeneagle on Jan 12, 2016 5:33:57 GMT
Milton walked along the side street, thoughts hurrying through his head as he made his way towards the speakeasy that was nearby. His boss had given him an important job to do. The gang to which he belonged had long been bootlegging for the speakeasy, and now there were apparently some other smugglers who were now supplying drink for the bar... something his boss had not been pleased about.
Milton narrowed his eyes. His boss had found out who was running this rival operation--what were their names again? The Bakers, that was it. And somehow his boss had also figured out what time they would be dropping off their load, and had sent him to investigate--see what size they were, were they a large gang or just a small operation. Maybe even put a stop to it if it was no trouble. Then his gang would be back as the suppliers.
The speakeasy was just around the corner, but Milton was approaching from the back, knowing that's where any bootleggers would be dropping off their load. He quickened his pace, hoping he was not too late.
Cautiously he poked his head around the corner. Sure enough, a car sat outside the back of the speakeasy, and it looked like there was someone sitting inside. The back door of the speakeasy was hidden in shadow, but Milton could hear faint murmurs of voices coming from that direction. This certainly appeared to be the bootleggers. He wondered if he should get closer to try and investigate further. Yup, his boss would certainly want him too, and it seemed unlikely that anything could go wrong. And even if it did... Milton fingered the pistol in his pocket.
A movement from the person inside the car caused him to swiftly step back behind the corner again, hoping that he hadn't been seen.
Dmitri Pendragon: Elytra: Wait, it's actually referring to the oldest post on the Underground? (I never did chase that down in fact…)
Nov 27, 2019 19:32:25 GMT
Leilani Sunblade: Rose: Welcome to Whitehall/the new Underground! Glad to see you found your way here. As Elytra said, the riddle's pointing towards the old site and, specifically, a scavenger-hunt type game that WTB and CH set up when they first released the book
Nov 28, 2019 21:11:04 GMT
Leilani Sunblade: Sadly, the game is over, but we still have fun here.
Nov 28, 2019 21:11:16 GMT
Warrior of Aror: Let us sit round the hearth and tell stories of the lives we have lived these past moons! I myself have been working at a grand theater telling Bible stories from behind the scenes.
Feb 29, 2020 1:44:51 GMT