Jump to content
edelos

[OOC] Higher Powers: Demirealm

Recommended Posts

HIGHER POWERS

DEMIREALM

 

June 15th, 2018. New York City.

 

Every moment of your life matters. Every action will be taken into account.

 


 

Character Application

Name:

Age:

Gender:

Description [The more you give, the more you get]:

Backstory [The more you give, the more you get]:

 

OOC

Discord:

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Name:           

Matthew der Waal

Age:             

 22

Gender:         

Male

Description:
Matthew der Waal is visually an average person. Has brown hair, brown eyes, some cheekbones that stand out a bit, a lanky figure etc. All in all not that unusual appearance wise.
Excluding the fact that in public he is constantly wearing glasses and walking with a 1,5 meter long white cane. His eyes are always partially closed and does move in the direction where sound comes from. But he can't see anything. Other than that he Generally likes to wear black pants, a dark-greyish cardigan and a white shirt under it. 

Backstory:
Matthew der Waal has been blind since his birth. Much to the initial despair of his parents. To which Matthew was mostly oblivious, not understanding the source of their distress.
As he grew older he was of course bullied for his visual impairment, called freak and a target for verbal and physical harassment.  This led Matthew to seek refuge in music. Learning to play the cello and overtime, growing in skill and ability. Eventually, once he finished high school he went to the new york conservatory. Where he learned the more formal forms of music  and where he  recently graduated. His parents and their family can trace their family line back to the original founders of New York. Back when it was just New Amsterdam. Originally being poor settlers in need of new oppertunities.

Matthew is generally quite a caring person. Seeking to give comfort to his friends and trying in whatever way he can. Occasionally he does that too much, as on some occasions he leaves his own problem by the wayside whilst solving those of others. He is also quite introverted, having difficulty with making social contact. Though he does have a small social circle with trusted friends.

 

His hobbies include playing the cello, jogging and DnD.

 

Discord

You have it

Edited by Roberik

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Name: Samuel “Sammy” Vicenza

Age: 39 years young, baby!

Gender: Male

Description:
Standing a little over 6 foot, Sammy is a barrel-chested man with green eyes, peppery-black hair with a high widow’s peak, and a wispy, curly mustache. He speaks (and sings) with a strong baritone which he projects with a mirthful boom. He is rarely seen without a wide grin and is known to grab his belly as he laughs. He commonly wears his chef’s outfit around and about as he “likes to look good for the ladies.” He has a deep fondness for opera (though just ‘The Phantom of the Opera’) and will happily sing at the drop of a hat. While he has mastered an operatic vibrato, he is not too good at keeping in tune. He is overall a likable, amenable (although sleazy) man.
 

Backstory:
Sammy was born in downtown New York and loves his city to death. Though he passed high-school with decent grades, college never appealed. Taking up an apprenticeship in plumbing he spent the good part of a decade working as an independent contractor before finding a new passion in  cooking. Eventually, he built enough skill in his new interest to land himself a job as head chef in a well-to-do restaurant a few minutes from Broadway. He would obsessively go and see ‘The Phantom of the Opera’ and it became his life’s dream to land the leading role. He loves a good meal, a good beer, a good joke, and a pretty lady on his arm. Though he’s faced a bankruptcy, two divorces, and a hernia, Sammy’s still going strong, pal! He ain’t never gonna quit!

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Character Application

Name: Anastasia Sokolov

Age: 29

Gender: Female

Description [The more you give, the more you get]:

M8QZkCm.png

 

Let’s face it. Anastasia is physically one of the hottest women you’ll ever meet. Having been a professional model for several years, her natural good looks are elevated to brain-melting heights because modelling taught her how to look even better.

 

The contrast of Anastasia’s pale Russian skin, raven-black hair, and chilling blue eyes makes for a striking first appearance. However, it is only when you hear her music that Anastasia’s otherworldly beauty reaches its full power to enchant. Still, when the music stops and the hour grows late, what kind of person lives inside her blindingly perfect shell?


 

Backstory [The more you give, the more you get]:

 

Anastasia Sokolov (known to fans as “Nastja”) was one of those kids growing up. You know the type. Too damn pretty for her own good. Devilishly skilled. The kind of girl that makes you want to just give up because such prodigal talent can only be a gift from the gods.

 

Constantly the target of both ire and admiration, Anastasia learned early on how much of a snake pit the world could be. A natural wizard on the violin from the age of four, Anastasia began studying music at Lübeck Conservatoire at seven, though after transferring in she only encountered more saboteurs and blackguards. Her wish to find in other musicians someone who could understand her led to disappointment after disappointment as people grew to hate Anastasia’s burgeoning exceptionalism. Always and forever attending competitions and performances worldwide, it was only natural that after graduating from Juilliard Anastasia knew no other way to live than to constantly travel.

 

With travel being both required and funded by her supplementary income as a model, Anastasia found it hard to develop close friendships since her interactions with people always remained brief. However, by the age of 24 Anastasia was tired of doing things the way other people expected of her, especially that of her traditional, communist, Russian parents who seemed frozen back in the USSR. In outright rebellion, Anastasia started a rock band in the hopes of creating a new life for herself: one where she could find not just liberation but also constant companionship with band mates touring together. While most of those who joined Anastasia’s band gladly indulged in the high life that stardom afforded them, the prodigy soon found herself surrounded by leeches. As if born under a cursed star, every group she gathered inevitably disbanded. You could cite any number of reasons for the transience of Anastasia’s revolving-door bands: creative differences, conflicts of personality, and the fatigue of constant touring. No matter the reason, this futility in finding quality friendships began to darken Anastasia’s outlook. After all, Anastasia simply could not understand why no one else thought it was a good idea to be composing the next album while on tour. The best conclusion she could draw was that other people simply lacked her energy and dedication. Trying to make a fresh start again this year, Anastasia renamed her band “Revolver” as a dark joke to herself, but no longer has it any other members.

 

OOC

 

Discord:  Revan#2828

Edited by Revenant.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

 

Character Application

Name: Alexandra Doheny

 

Age: 19

 

Gender: Female

 

Description: Alexandra Doheny stands just above the average, at about 5’7. She has straight, dirty blonde hair, hazel eyes and a slightly rounder face. She carries a personable demeanor and outwardly appears quite approachable. Her attire reflects her bubbly personality as when the weather permits, Ally would use any excuse to throw on her Boho-chic wardrobe. Otherwise, she quite comfortably sports her pullovers and baggy clothes when the fall rolls in.

 

Backstory: 

 

Alexandra Doheny, or Ally, was born on February 2, 1999 in the affluent town of Darien, Connecticut. She is the daughter of lawyer, Robert Doheny, and occupational therapist and Board of Ed member, Stephanie Doheny. Her upbringing was financially stable and secure, having spent the majority of her life living in a 5,000 sqft. home with her mother, father, younger sister (Morgan), and brother (Adam).

 

Simply put, Ally was the favored child of the Doheny bunch, afterall having been the first one born. Due to the nature of her mother serving on the Board of Ed, she was pressured to succeed academically - pestered and meticulously scrutinized, perhaps even to a fault. However, her mother only wanted the best for her, recognizing her talent at a young age and seeking to cultivate. Looking back, Ally would not trade her mother’s harsh attitude and breathing-down-her-neck behavior for anything as it propelled her to become the best person she could be. Throughout all four years of highschool, she maintained a position in the Honor Society, all the while being a tri-athlete - participating in soccer (Wing), basketball (Power Forward), and track and field (Running) - to the approval of her father, who was close friends with the school coach and Darien alum, and thus had his own stake in her games. Overall, she was a beloved peer and distinguished herself academically and athletically.

 

In the Summer, she made her keep through work at a local pizza parlor, where she made a tidy sum and familiarized herself with all the local faces at the most popular eatery in town. Ally padded out her extracurriculars with occasional volunteer work at a nursing center, performing mundane tasks such as serving treats, wheeling around residents, and keeping them company in general - something which she had a soft spot for. She’d had a number of relationships over the years, but would be able to hold down none, seemingly driving them away the closer they got. In the end, boys became the least of her problems, as she sought to prepare for college and strengthen bonds with her friends - after all, she was soon leaving, and wanted to make every moment count.

 

Be it either her editing skills, or her charm, she amassed a respectable social media presence and scored a legitimate offer as a brand ambassador for an apparel company, which to her benefit, curbed her habits of spending sprees.

 

Alexandra was accepted into Columbia University, where she currently resides and pursues a higher education. She is optimistic for the future, having left home with a heavy heart, though somewhat relieved to enjoy newfound freedom. New York, a far cry from her suburban home in Darien, was now the next chapter of her life. Currently studying Biochem.

 

OOC

Discord: Yo

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Name:
Afdal ash-Shuhada

 

Age
51

Gender
Male

Description

Afdal is a squat, rotund man, who stands no taller than 5’5”. He has deep brown eyes, jet black hair, and rich brown skin. His face, however, is rather ugly (3) it's smooshed and weathered, making him appear older than he is, and his nose and ears are grossly out of proportion. An impressive pube-beard sprouts from his jawline, but any mustache to speak of is diligently removed by the Imam. His eyesight being less than perfect, a pair of wiry spectacles are found on his large nose. While he is often seen in his flowing white robes, Afdal loves the look of “american” clothes, and sports his “I ❤️ NY” t-shirt proudly.

The Imam is best described as a stern, though enthusiastic man. While he is fascinated and obsessed with American culture, he also despises much of it, namely the lack of women’s ankle, shoulder, and face coverings.

Backstory:
Born to an impoverished family in Syria, he grew up with twelve other siblings. Everything was always tight, but he was fortunate enough to obtain at least a decent education. Afdal was by no means popular in school, but he wasn't a reject by any means. The team he didn’t spend studying he spent working to support his large family. By the time he had graduated, he had obtained an intense obsession with religion, and decided to further pursue it.

 

Afdal officially became an Imam by the age of thirty and served his community to the best of his ability, leading a pious and meditative life. Over time, he became a respected figure in his small town. Somehow still dissatisfied, Afdal began to travel throughout the country, and the middle east as a whole, briefly serving in towns, villages, and cities throughout the entire region.

His latest venture, however, takes him across the Atlantic, to a burgeoning community within the heart of New York City. Here now for a few weeks, the man has mostly kept to himself and his mosque, when he is not out sightseeing and falling into the most obvious tourist traps.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Name: Thomas Pryce

Age: 25

Gender: Male

 

Description [The more you give, the more you get]:

 

Short, pale and moody, Thomas spends his days struggling to push through an oppressive cloud of melancholy. He came to this awful city for work and for now, that offers him some distraction – but the adjustment hasn’t been easy.

 

Thomas stands at a pathetic 5’6”, but by this point he’s beyond caring about it much. Women have never noticed him, they probably never will, and he’s accepted that. The best thing to do is to avoid them altogether before he starts wanting what he can’t have. Tom privately estimates he hasn’t spoken to a woman in over six months. To be honest, he doesn’t talk to that many men either.

 

The one bright spot in Tom’s life is his work, which he throws himself into with little thought to much else. He’s a spook, an FBI analyst monitoring terrorist threats in New York state. In this at least, he excels. Thomas has always been frighteningly intelligent, and he has a knack for picking out important details that others might miss. What’s more, he legitimately believes in the work. The idea of hunting the country’s enemies, perhaps of outmaneuvering and beating them, makes him feel valuable. It makes him feel alive. It distracts him from how shitty his life has become.

 

Backstory [The more you give, the more you get]:

 

Thomas John Pryce was born on the superior west coast, in San Diego. His childhood was happy enough: the Pryce family is a large, loving, stable one, and he was always provided for. He grew up happy, always a great student, always with plenty of freedom. His parents were fairly well-off, and when his idyllic childhood was over they sent him to college within the state. He kept his old friends there: many had gone to the same school, and so he was never at risk of falling too deep into his work. Deeply patriotic, Tom wanted to serve his country, and as he was too short for the military he figured that meant internal security. As he approached graduation he asked his family to call in contacts with the FBI, and soon was hired as an investigator.

 

Unfortunately, Thomas failed to realize that the federal government largely operates on the east coast. Before he could contemplate his decision, he found himself posted to New York, and found that he hated it. As the months dragged by, the novelty wore off, and he became sick of it all. Sick of the annoying, pompous people who lived out here, sick of how they wore suits everywhere, sick of how the sun set on the wrong side of the ocean, sick of everyone he ever knew being thousands of miles away. New York City was awful. The buildings just rose up and up boxing him in, and what’s more, everyone he met seemed just as annoyed at the world as he was. Tom just worked. It was what he came here for, after all.

 

By now, Thomas is in permanent danger of becoming a permanently bitter man. His relationship with his family and friends back home is slowly withering, while he’s not truly close to anyone out here. Still, leaving is out of the question. He’s spent three years here already, after all. He might be promoted soon. He has commitments. No. He’ll keep on like this as long as it takes. Maybe things will get better.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Character Application

Name: Francis "Francy/Frank" De Luca

Age: 41

Gender: Male

Description [The more you give, the more you get]:

Frank isn't an unattractive man. He has a slender, Italian build, and stands at a round 6 foot. Black haired, Frank has olive skin, and usually sports several days worth of stubble. Unsmiling, Frank looks constantly tired and always has a cup of Italian coffee in his hand.

 

Typically, the Irish-Italian-American wears a suit, a throwback to his mafioso days. Though he keeps wearing his suits, he is rarely well groomed, with his shirts crumpled and his shoes scuffed. He is a man very down on his luck, and it shows, but he at least tries to keep himself clean.

 

Backstory [The more you give, the more you get]:

 

Frank was a Caporegime in the Esposito crime family. He grew up in New York, in a neighborhood run by the mob. His father was a mob man, and it was a natural step for Francis to follow his example. He spent ten years working loyally for Don Esposito, until his whole life fell to pieces around him.

 

A fairly routine job went brutally wrong, the Soldato sent to do the deed shot the wrong man, the fool was caught by the Feds, made a plea bargain, went into protective custody and testified against the Espositos. Frank went down with the rest of the family.

 

The mobster spent seven years in a federal penitentiary, before he was miraculously released on a final appeal - some aspect of evidence had been quietly contaminated, and De Luca managed to walk free. On his release, however, he found a different world. His wife had left him, his children were fully grown and called their new stepfather "Dad". He had, by the standards of any Italian, very little. 

 

With no family and no qualifications, De Luca spent what was left of his money - hidden away in various accounts and funds for years - on buying himself a small used bookshop. He enjoys reading, and now literature is his life. Once a mobster, always a mobster, however, for Frank often collects very rare and valuable books - often about things such as the occult - by violence and coercion, before selling them on to the highest bidder.

 

He has since remarried, and is remarkably unhappy in the relationship (his wife is often seen sporting either one or two black eyes), which has given him two sons, both as wimpish and squeamish as their mother. Every morning he walks to work, longing for the past, before throwing himself into his sheltered little world of paper.

 

Edited by The_Mad_Skylord

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Character Application

 

Name: Daniel Andreas Hernandez

 

Age: 39

 

Gender: M

 

Description: His friends on the force would describe him as ‘Their Diabo Hermoso’. Daniel was tall standing at almost six feet, and had a lean but wiry frame. He was attractive by anyone’s standards, with short but slightly curled jet black hair. His eyes matched his hair, earning the Diablo in his nickname. They were a dark brown, almost like black chunks of coal for pupils. He has a brown Spanish complexion, with strong but perhaps bushy eyebrows. His lashes were long however, and elegant. His teeth though well maintained were stained yellow from all the cigarettes and hookahs he smokes while off duty. Daniel’s neck is relatively long, leading into a broad chest and long arms. His hands are big, and roughly callused from years of holding reins. His long legs are well muscled and tan. Overall Daniel was quite the handsome police officer. 

 

When off duty his style was usually a simple T-Shirt bought off some bodega, and faded jeans. Daniel is not one for flamboyance, or fashion. He lives in a small and decrepit loft in Brooklyn, having to commute to work every day. Most weekends he can be found with his buddies on the force in Central Park. There they meet other Spanish officers and family, for picnics and games. He kept a simple life, with hard work values. Perhaps because of this and his good looks, he was quite the catch for any Women who meets him. They can perhaps sense a deeper sadness within his aesthetic exterior.

 

Backstory: Though now perhaps an ordinary American and Police Officer, Daniel has a dark and tragic past. He is an El Salvadorian from the La Plaz province. His family was dirt poor, compromising of his grandfather, his parents, two brothers, and four sisters. They eked out an existence as tenants to a small time sustenance and horse farm. The tumultuous and volatile nature of the Country ensured they never knew true peace. At just the age of three, Daniel was witness to the hanging of his Grandfather by banditos seeking shelter from the government. Though too young to remember,  he holds that memory with him to this day. Even at a tender age, criminals were hurting those he loved. He grew into his early years in a sad pattern quite like most poor Salvadorian families of the time. Poverty, the constant threat of violence, extortion, and a godless lack of mercy.

 

At just the age of twelve, a life changing event occurred for Daniel. At the time politically, the El Salvador government was facing external pressure from it’s neighbors, and within. Rebel Groups were cropping up across the land, some rumored to be funded by the U.S and it’s agencies. Every month clashes were reported, as rebel and government forces met in blood and violence. It was on one of these raids that a Rebel group hit Daniel’s parents farm. Seeking the horses and fresh recruits, they viciously ripped Daniel and one of his other brothers, Ferdinand, into service. For the next three years though they never saw combat, they were used to grease the cogs of the Rebel group. Forced to tend their steeds, prep their food, wash their clothes, shine their bullets, and all the other menial task. Sometimes they were exposed to the brutal violence and pointless death that was the Civil War.

 

When he became fifteen, Daniel made his move to escape this repetitive cycle of death. Fearing he was old enough to be pressed into actual combat, he had been plotting for a while. Late at night after a victory, the Rebels were mostly passed out drunk in celebration. Daniel sneaked over to his favorite horse, Tamga, who his father technically owned. The two had both been forced to serve their cruel masters. Taking his reins, Daniel quickly made his way out of the camp. Upon reaching his home though, he was greeted with pure disaster.

 

The farm was gone, the animals stolen or slaughtered. Next to the old oak tree, several un marked graves resided. Having no idea if his entire family was buried, or in fact, who was buried there, Daniel stayed for days on end. He searched for clues, traces of survivor family. Nothing. For days he lamented at the loss of everything he knew, how those Rebels had robbed him of almost everything. Staying in the burnt remnants of the barn, he collapsed in a complete break down. Hours later, he was still on the floor staring at the last of the barn’s wall. It was there he noticed a small and hastily carved arrow. It pointed North, and had one simple letter next to it, K. The initial of his mother, and perhaps a sign of help.

 

Gathering everything he could scavenge, Daniel braces himself for a massive journey. He begins to make his way up north on his old and starving horse. For weeks he navigates the brutal landscape of the Salvadorian Civil war, until he finally leaves the country. Suffering many hardships, he had only just made it to out of the country. Finding no clues of his family, he resolutely continues north.

 

For years he keeps pushing north at all cost. Stopping to try and find work, to fund the next leg of the journey. It is in this fashion that he made it all the way to Northern Mexico. A shell of his youth, and dirty to boot, Daniel was in a bad way. As a refugee he had little hope of just walking into the U.S. And many of the Mexicans here looked on the Salvadorian refugees with distaste. Finally however a glimmer of hope was given to Daniel. Taking pity on his story, a group of small time Cartel members took him in. They worked him hard for a few weeks on principle, but than allowed him into one of their smuggling programs. Not meant for humans, Daniel was carried into the States in a cramped submarine, stuffed with cocaine.

 

Almost twenty, Daniel had entered the United States in a spectacular fashion. Finding work in Texas, he was taken on as a rancher on a horse farm. For months Daniel was lost in the simple pleasure of farming like he did as a kid. He even met a girl his age on the ranch, from an American-Mexican family. Not one to waste time, the two married in the stupid rush of young love. For years they lived and worked together on the ranch, as Daniel earned his citizenship and got a green card from the marriage.

 

However the two had perhaps gone too quickly into love. For their marriage began to fall apart, after the initial honeymoon years. And always the question of his family was in the back of Daniels head. Finally, he had had enough of his wives bitter resentment. Leaving with just the clothes on his back, a beat up ford, and a couple thousand dollars. For the next year he spent his life on the road, always searching every Salvadorian community he found for signs of his family.

 

It was in this manner that he eventually reached NYC at the age of thirty. His spirit and hope were all but crushed, and he was bitter at the robbery of his life. Resolute to at least instill some purpose to his life, he worked hard to join the NYPD. Using his skill with animals, and prior experience, he managed to join the NYPD Mounted Division. For years now his life was a hallow but good blur. He and his horse, Pequeño, made a good team. They patrolled around Manhattan/Central Park, doing their part to keep the City safe. It is in this dull and sad pattern Daniels life continues up to the present. With unanswered questions, a robbed youth, and little to no joy.

Edited by GrimBeard

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

 

Name: Jonathan Dayvon Anderson

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Description: Jonathan sports a, lean, very muscular frame, his head reaching a modest 6’, on the dot. He wears his heads collected in short dreads, barely falling upon his forehead. He has deep brown eyes, which create a stark contrast between the pristine white which surrounds it. His usual, most frequently worn clothes are his white, traveled wife beater, with a pair of black jeans that look as if they are strangling his skinny legs. His facial features are very well defined, void of nearly any major noticeable blemish, even when examined closely. He has a very light mustache that surrounds his upper lip, simply attributed to laziness regarding his self-care. 

 

 He is reserved, well mannered young man, very athletic, and excelling at nearly any sport he was placed in, notably basketball, football, and baseball. However, due to his unfortunate circumstances due to his environment, he was not nearly as successful in the classroom, choosing to skip homework to practice rapping, or playing outside with the kids in his neighborhood.

 

Backstory :

Jonathan was born in the heart of East Bronx, in a less-than endowed neighborhood. His mother, left his household at a very young age, choosing a less-than-desirable life instead of a life raising her son. His father, a respectable, well-spoken man, was placed at the helm of making sure his son grew up to be a courteous young man. However, not many could escape from the temptations of the perpetual cycle of crime the streets offered. Whilst his father was a good man, not the same could be said for the fathers of many of the kids on the streets young Jonathan regularly interacted with. This life manifested before young Jonathan, and its “street” appeal was very difficult to refuse. To detach his son from being entrapped in a life of petty crime, he took a second job simply to finance an esteemed basketball academy, to serve as an escape from the jungle of the streets. In a fortunate stroke of serendipity, he was taken in by a benevolent coach who related to the struggles shared by Johnathan and his father. His coach became a second father figure to Johnathan, and Jonathan lionized him. His biological father was not present most of the time at home, so he spent much of his time with his coach, Jeremy, whom he lovingly called, “uncle”. To Jeremy, Jonathan was a second son, his biological son falling into the trap of gangbanging and being shamelessly gunned down on the streets at the ripe age of 20, him too an aspiring basketball prodigy. He was thus committed to, in his eyes, “saving” Jonathan. He spent a lot of time in his house, helped him with homework whenever he needed, and drove him home whenever necessary, to avoid soliciting the danger the darkness laid upon the empty streets. 

 

When Jeremy, too, after Jonathan was merely 12 years old, succumbed to the bite of the gaping jaws of crime, he treated it terribly. He was the victim of a confused hitman, who mistook him for his real target. Jonathan missed the opportunity to even bid his farewells and received the grim news while he was draining 3’s at his coaches court, where he broke down in wallows and tears. It was this heartfelt pain that fueled his never-ending desire, shared by many of his friends and neighbors down the streets, to “make it out the hood”, something which Jeremy instilled in Jonathan since he was merely a small boy who used to roll dice off the cracked concrete walls of a nearby corner store with the other boys on the block. 

 

At 15, he was always the first picked kid when they made teams to play street sports, no matter the sport, football, basketball, baseball. He was strong, muscular, he had started working at the same corner store he would roll dice off of in order to afford a gym membership. Fitness, and athletics took up the most of his time and occupied the majority of his time, his father, a former boxer, would give him pointers and serve as his personal fitness coach, when he could. 

 

At 16, he had already been contacted by reputable and august universities regarding his skills, including Syracuse, Siena, and Cornell. At 16, however, his father was growing old and grey, and could not physically support a second job anymore. He couldn't afford the basketball academy any longer, which was his only salvation that kept him away from home, from gazing out of his old stained window while he was laying in his room and seeing the patrolling groups of kids his age through the streets. After so much time and so many bands that passed by his window, he eventually, decided to open the door, and join them. 

 

At 17, he had become affiliated with the Bloodz, a notable street gang operating in the streets of East Harlem, of which his father was a member of in his youth; they were days which soiled his memory. At 18, he was approached by 3 men, in their mid 20’s, and handed a bundle of sheets, and when he fondled through them, he felt the cold metallic hilt of a Glock pistol. He was no stranger to the customs, he knew, the significance of this gift. He was to carry out a hit. Reluctant at first, he was always made fun of by other kids for being too “soft”, yet he never lost a fight when challenged. The insults angered him and insulted his aerated ego.

 

 He was supposed to waste a kid down the block, who stole a couple ounces of weed and refused to give it back. They had told him, that he frequents a certain court late at night, and to do it there, make it quick and easy. He understood and went back home in the dead of night, gun tucked in his pants, his black hoodie covering the holster of the gun, his hand gripping it tightly, his eyes darting from corner to corner, eyeing every idle group of boys, some smoking, some dealing drugs, some simply eying Jonathan, as he walked by them, his hoodie shielding prying eyes from the vibrations face, which was infected with anxiety on his task. Whilst he was entrapped in arguments with the voices and versions of him who consoled and tormented him in his mind, the rev of a an engine grew closer and closer, the headlights increasingly illuminating more of the brick walls of the row houses that lined the street. He paid no mind, but when the the loud sound of skid marks sounded,  and the hail of shots directed at him emanating from a dark figure ensued, he whipped out the pistol and shot back his own fleet of bullets. When the encounter was over, the blaring sound of a car horn filled the silence of the night, accompanied by the slow chorus of blaring sirens in the distance. 

 

He, however, did not escape untouched. He knew he had been struck, yet he did not have time to examine his wounds. He heard the sirens blaring at a distance, he knew he had to flee. Navigating and making his way through the maze of alleyways, backyards, and streets. He finally made it to the waterfront, where he quickly tossed his artifact of murder into the abyss of forget, the hudson river. There he was sufficiently out of the range of the scene, where he sat down on the wall, his shoes dangling above the brown water, which still reflected the white light of the moon. There, he lifted his black hoodie up, and examined his wounds. . The bullet had grazed his side, taking a chunk of of skin with it. He was terrified, imagining  the onslaught of whips his father will release upon him, so he went to the next ideal place- Jeremy’s house, his wife will care for him, she works at a WIC clinic a couple streets down. He cradled his wound using his right hand, and kept sprinting through the labyrinth of streets, watching police car after police car zoom right before his eyes, towards the scene, and those same idle spectators flee in the other direction, at the sight of the menacing right and blue lights. He finally made it to the WIC clinic, and caught Jeremy’s wife leaving, fumbling with the lock of the double glass doors to the interior of the clinic. There, after much protest, she opened the doors, and illuminated the dark clinic. She tended to his wounds, gave him antibiotics, and sent him on his way home. The walk home, was a long one. Regret, confusion, trauma plagued his every thought. 

 

The next morning, the story was on the news, and his Jeremy broke the news to his father. Jeremy’s face was lifeless, numb in every single muscle fiber. His father, was disappointed, yet he did not punish, oddly enough. He could see the sadness, and torment in his son’s face, and he brought him in close for an embrace, and they stood there, the tears accumulating into wet spots on each others clothes. 

 

At 19, Jonathan was never charged nor caught for his crime, yet he remains distinct, a husk of the jovial persona he was called himself. He has committed to Syracuse with a full ride scholarship, and spends an exorbitant amount of time in the gym, lifting heavy stones which muffle the sadness and the weight of his transgressions. 

 

Discord: tell harry someone else to give it to you, its raul

 

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Character Application

Name: Alec Van de Graaf

Age: 28

Gender: Male

Description [The more you give, the more you get]: Alec is a 6’4 male with looks that can be described as well above average, he has black hair and tends to use far too much product than is considered reasonable in polite society. Typically wearing scruffy clothing that is more on the hipster end of fashion, including a long coat. His figure is lean and he would appear physically fit though more on the cardio end than being strong, with a build roughly between that of a runner and a swimmer.

 

Backstory [The more you give, the more you get]: Alec is a native of New York City having grown up in Hell’s Kitchen during the 1990s as the neighbourhood began a revitilisation and gentrification, his family were however not forced out by the rising cost of living or bought out of their property being able to live comfortably throughout the decade. He would however experience two events that would shock and shape his childhood, one being 9/11 in 2001 and in 2002 with the murder of his mother that to this day remains unsolved. The death of his mother shaped him to take the path on becoming a paranormal investigator, due to the suspicious circumstances of his mothers death, her body found in something of a ritualistic sacrificial fashion among four others all with indescrible wounds and blows to their body which Alec believed no human was truly capable of. The body of his mother and the other victims would be cremated quickly leaving the young Alec suspicious as their family had no ties to crime, no enemies who could do this and it seemed utterly arbitrary and random.

 

Despite his obsession he would focus on his studies and attempt to achieve high in school as to get the qualifications to be considered for a posting in the NYPD as a detective investigator and rise through the ranks quickly, that was his plan though things change. Between his studies he would often be found reading books on the supernatural, mostly pseudo-science and the likes and most who knew him believed it to be just something of an odd hobby as he chose not to reveal his theories and beliefs to friends and family. Choosing to study criminology at university he would graduate with a bachelors then renrolled in the NYPD police academy and eventually became a detective. Though after a few years he became cynical at the red tape and the lack of results he found in many of his cases, he also earned something of a bad reputation for his tendency to take on strange cases that most others wouldn’t bother touch, his supervisers wishing him to take on regular cases due to his record of success. Eventually he was offered a promotion out of detective work which he was given the option to take or leave the department, he chose the latter path.

 

At 28 years old he opened a detective agency taking on normal cases as to pay the bills and keep him going. However he would also start taking on those out of the ordinary, supernatural and paranormal in nature and continues his reading obsession into that subject matter, delving ever deeper past books anyone could and looking for rarer tomes that he can look through and discover secrets and hopefully obtain some semblence of knowledge of what happened to his mother so long ago. Due to his previous career he has built up a network of contacts and informants in the criminal world, now he’s working private they’re more amenable to talking to him, for a price.

 

OOC

Discord: You got it.

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Character Application

Name: Ronald ‘Abe’ Jenson

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Description [The more you give, the more you get]:

    Ronald is not physically imposing in the slightest. He’s approximately 5’10, 158 pounds, and his figure is overall skinny and meek-looking. To roughly give his body a quick description, it looks akin to a cross country runner. He usually wears his brown, kinky hair out and up with the sides of his head shaved. He has no facial hair, and not a large amount of bodily hair. His facial features are defined: his cheekbones high, slightly yellowed and straight smile, skimpy eyebrows, and plump lips. His skin is around two shades darker than what could be considered ‘passing’, and he has no blemishes except for those scars you’d find on someone that spent a large part of their young life playing roughly outside. He typically dresses casually in black and white, and is often found in a pair of worn sneakers from some off-brand company. He generally seems trustworthy, and the air about him is more times than not that of opportunistic curiosity and optimism. He’s suspicious of those around him and finds it doubly hard to trust anyone. His communication skills are lacking, and will sometimes do things while expecting people to go along with it or will let issues fester within him instead of addressing them. 

 

Backstory [The more you give, the more you get]: 

   Ronald Jenson was born to a lower-middle class family in Southern California who lived just outside the reaches of LA. His childhood was very normal, and his parents made their ends meet with a bit of a struggle every now and then. He never had to worry about if they would have food on the table the next day or if he could be out in his neighborhood with his friends. This was the norm until around his 9th grade year. The increasing costs of high school started to take a toll on the family, and in the past where the father had been making money through gambling (which Ronald had figured out in the midst in one of their arguments), he’d been losing it and had thusly developed an addiction in hopes of providing for his family. The mother was a low-income teacher who barely made enough to keep herself afloat. This all became increasingly recognized by Ronald by their arguments and his mother’s sudden disappearances for maybe days at a time. He was often left at home by his father who, likely, had been out to go gamble as usual. Around this time, Ronald had invested himself into a girlfriend who he vented to and used as his escape from the world around him. Seeing that he was home alone longer at night, he started to sneak her over. One of these times, however, she brought an edible and egged him on to try it. Curious as he was, he took it and they went on a trip. They did this over and over until they eventually ran out (and, frankly, their tolerance had gone up). 

 

   Having already subscribed to the notion that edibles were satisfactory, he went with her to go get some more from their plug. They made the transaction as normal, but the plug talked to Ronald on the side before they left, out of hearing of his companion, he offered him something stronger since his girl refused to go along with it. Seeing nothing wrong with his intentions, he was given a singular pill to take and after she left his house, he did. He immediately experienced hallucinations and over-heightened senses, which left him disoriented for the next week. He took a liking to whatever it was that he felt, and he got more. Eventually, seeing the profits that the dealer made off of him, he decided to become a plug himself to provide for himself and his family in an attempt to bring them back together. The next year, after his girlfriend found out, she broke up with him. This left him more downtrodden than before, and so he took more drugs to make up for the pain that he felt.

 

   He continued this ‘side-hustle’ all the way up until his senior year in high school, where he’d become a well-known dealer at his school. How he got these drugs was that he eventually managed to find a smuggler of sorts who’d been able to amass a large amount of various hallucinogens, psychedelics, depressants, or otherwise. He would show his stock to his clients, who then paid him for whatever they wanted, who then took to the streets and sold those drugs for profit. The process would repeat, the drugs growing stronger over time. Despite his earnings, Ronald only had to pay for him and his father’s living status, because his mother had taken leave of the family. She’d always yell about leaving to New York and how she’d manage to fend for herself out there, but they’d never actually think that she would leave. Because of this and the fact that he had no need to make any more money since Ronald was providing, Mr. Jenson quit his job and partook singularly in gambling a large majority of the money he had made away over the course of Ronald’s senior year. This led to Ronald having to engage in more drug-dealing, making more connections to the underworld and him becoming a large source of income. Ronald graduated later that year, living a mostly normal life with his friends besides what happened at home and in the night. In his time as a drug dealer, he’d earned the moniker ‘Abe’ (after Abraham Lincoln, of course) because he was seen as an overly trustworthy person who didn’t really have a pension for lying. He kept true to his deals and never missed an appointment.

 

   One night, while Ronald had been stressing over his college admissions and various scholarships that he was applying for in hopes that they’d be able to pay for the majority of his college fees, he heard the front door bust open. It was his father who had come home in a hurry, slamming it shut and locking it. Mr. Jenson ran to his room and locked himself in, and soon after the back window to his house was shattered. He heard the crunching of multiple figures entering the house just after, and Ronald had packed up his things. Picking up his backpack with his stash of money in it, he dipped out of his household, leaving his father to whatever fate he deigned for himself. Or, well, at least he thinks. Ronald left the house and decided that he’d not come back, and ordered a ride to LAX. While there, he contemplated over life.

 

   To make his thoughts short, Abe bought a plane ticket to New York City. The Big Apple, he figured, would be a fresh new start to life. He had multiple goals in mind – to find his mother, to get a job and find a place, and maybe indulge himself on some drugs in the meantime.

 

OOC

Discord: funnay981#8612

Share this post


Link to post
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.


  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    No registered users viewing this page.



×
×
  • Create New...