Addicted To Mysteries

[Ayl]

As above, so below. The view from Axis Mundi is infinite, you understand. Kill the god, and the river dies. Bind the river, and the god sickens. As moves one, so must the other. Realize, then, that I may push the right one to see your cancer return. Take your bulldozers away from this sacred place, or suffer.

Marcus Nicholas Kronner

General Info

Name: Kronner, Marcus Nicholas


Father's Name: Lionell


Gender: M


Age: 36


Birthdate: May, 15th


Occupation: Former: Police Detective, rank Seargent


Currently: Unemployed/Freelance Investigator


Bloodtype: A+

Strengths:

• Ambitious
  
• Brave
  
• Honorful
  
• Respectful
  

Weaknesses:

• Straightforward
  
• Unsocial
  
• Paranoic
  
• Impatient
  

There Was Once A Detective

Shit happens all the time. Whether it's a quick mug in a dark alleyway, away from the eyes of witnessess, when night's veil covers the horizon, or straight out bank robbing in mid daylight, or even in a simple 'cutback', Evil never sleeps.


But it shall triumph if no one rises to opose it. Balance must be kept, no matter the cost. Too much good is bad, but too much bad is also bad. Then, one might wonder which side is truly better. For Marcus, the answer is none. Only Balance is what matters. That was the reason he joined the Force.


Unlike many of his peers, he knew it was madness trying to change the world by yourself, from the beginning. He didn't become a detective to simply combat crime, but to keep the balance from tipping towards either Side. He was but a child when his mother, a federal agent, was murdered in cold blood. His father bailed on him before he was even born. A taste of both worlds. Bittersweet.


Bouncing from foster home to foster home, his behaviour being less than desirable, Marcus learned to take care of himself.Growing up, he'd seen and read enough to know the World was diseased. His badge gave him the power to do his part. Never the same place for long. His hard work paid off, and he discovered a corrupt politician. Same old story. In his youth, he dreamt of changing the world, but age made him weak. A lot of people were dying because of him, and he had to be stopped. Bullets proved effective.


Proof was circumstantial, not enough for time. But enough to destroy a reputation. Marcus was kicked out of the Police, for good. Now, he's on his own. He still have his old friends, and acts as a private investigator. He only takes cases he finds an interest in. That help him further his cause. Some refer to him as 'broken', or even 'murderer'. But he knows actions speak much louder than words, and he isn't short of those yet.

Private Interview

What is the worst thing I've ever done?


"There's no such thing. I never did anything wrong. Others may say otherwise, but they don't have what it takes to be me. To maintain order, to keep the Balance!" he said as he took another cigarette from the almost-empty pack. Lighting it up, he continued his train of thoughts. "But, if it really matters that much, I did kill people before. Two, actually. One was a gangster kid. Pulled his gun on me and shot, but missed. I didn't," he made a pause to exhale. "The other, was a senator. Bastard wanted to raze an entire neighborhood and didn't care who'd die in process, just so he could fatten his wallet. Wasn't the first time he'd do something so horrid. Someone had to stop him, for good. They never could prosecute, but I never denied it. Cost me my badge." he finished, letting ash fall into the ashtray.


What is the worst thing I can imagine myself doing?


"Going against my principles. Violating my code. Give either Side an advantage over the other through my actions. Disturbing the Peace. Even now, I strive to uphold it, even though I'm no longer a cop. But "cop" is just a title. It's one's actions that show you who that man is!"


What is the worst thing I can imagine someone else doing?


"Disturbing the Order. Stepping past his station. Everybody's got a place, and when someone denies that concept, they're commiting a terrible sin, and must be stopped.". Inhaling again, his lips formed a subtle smirk in the corner of his mouth. "I know, you would believe I've done so too. But I didn't go past my station. I've never lost sight of my boundaries, not one moment.".


What is the most traumatic thing that has every happened to me?


Putting out the cigarette, he answered again: "I keep the Balance, but I always tried to stick by the Good. You can imagine then how hard is it to shift sides. Do I regret it? No, he deserved it. But it was a totally different experience. Something I'll never forget.". Just as he was preparing to leave, grabbing his coat, he stopped to answer once more, before departing.


How I've changed? What did I forget?


"No one goes through Hell and comes back the same. I knew that when I started walking the path. Now, I don't trust anyone anymore. I'm my own counsel, and childhood naiveties have all but left me. Is that a good thing? Perhaps. It's what kept me alive, so it can't be that bad. But sometimes, I miss it. Being able to trust anyone, just like a kid. It was a good feeling, that of safety.". Letting out a sigh, he spoke for the last time: "Sorry, but I got a case. Hope you got what you needed.". With that, he turned away.

Equipment

1. Glock Pistol: Being the paranoic that he is, besides his work weapon, Marcus also had a spare pistol at his appartment, which he now carries around on his various jobs. The gun has no markings, making it impossible to trace.
   
2. Handcuffs: Sometimes, his jobs require he'd find some deadbeat and bring him to justice, case in which Marcus has found the use of handcuffs primordial.
   
3. Cellphone: While not a fan of them, as he knew how much these devices could hurt their owners, Marcus still considers it has its uses and carries it around just in case.
   
4. Smokes: These are of utmost importance, as they are the only ones that can calm Marcus in any situation. The familiar nicotine odour makes him able to focus on whatever enigma he's tackling.
   
5. A small Notebook: Marcus keeps everything noteworthy in there. Tracks of his jobs, important persons, phone numbers, even some of his most private thoughts, etc.
   

Stats

​

​

 

[Grey]

Edited OP again with some more inspirational details.

 

[Dusky]

AHHH I LOVE TAROT.


 
Phew! Beth edited. Lemme know if it needs more fleshing out. She's a bit terse sometimes.

 

[Syrenrei]

@Grey - I will try to edit as soon as I can, but I am slightly overwhelmed with the holidays coming up. It's our first year in our new house so I spent most of the week getting Christmas decorations and we got our tree. (It's also the first Christmas my son 'gets' at 2 1/2, so we're really doing the whole nine yards beginning this year.) We still need to decorate the tree, buy some more gifts, clean, prepare for our guests (we will have four this year), plan Christmas dinner, and stock for our guests. I'll do the best I can to get it in while juggling my other RP responsibilities- but rest assured that after Christmas things will settle down for me!


P.S. You forgot to note devon applied under #2 as well. =)

 

[Masks of Ayn]

Original post has been updated.

@Grey Thank you for the update. I was having such a creative block! The few questions (and with a touch of my own tactical sketching of ideas that hence came after) has made it much easier! Not to mention I don't have to worry that it's too long now that five paragraphs is at least required, phew!


Character pitch should be posted in the next few days. Sorry I'm one of those interested taking so long when you're raring to go! I haven't forgotten, I promise!

 

[Ayl]

@Grey just so you know, I'm going tobe rewriting my app tonight.


 
App updated.

 

[The Fuzz]

“As above, so below. The view from Axis Mundi is infinite, you understand. Kill the god, and the river dies. Bind the river, and the god sickens. As moves one, so must the other. Realize, then, that I may push the right one to see your cancer return. Take your bulldozers away from this sacred place, or suffer.”


He's been Malcolm. He's been Frank. He's been Will. He's been tired, he's been dusty, he's been regretful. He's been down back roads and busy city streets...but he's never been home.


Back when he was Vincent, he was a good kid. Didn't really matter, though. He worked hard; beatings. He excelled in school; hostile tolerance. He kept the yard, fixed the windows, performed minor miracles to keep the car running; disappointment.


These days, he doesn't waste time blaming his family. He left because of them, but that's all. The way he lives now has nothing to do with them. They don't own anything but days past, and Vincent lives in the present. Matter of fact, Vincent lives so strongly in the present that he never bothered to put down roots anywhere. He's got some community college learning, here and there, scattered credits that will never add up to a degree. He can get a dead car running again for just long enough to get where you're going. He can fix a stereo, rewire scorched 1950's lighting, pick a lock, pick a pocket, juggle badly. He can live for two weeks on ten dollars, and then blow fifty on filet mignon, just because. He's begged and stolen, learned to live with his mouth to the teat of a living city, survived on hand outs, and helped others make it in their turn. He tried being a drunk, but it didn't take. He tried being a junkie, but he just felt blind and slow.


Vincent doesn't expect much of people, but he likes them anyway. He sees the world as a big, strange place, full of small, strange people, and he likes it that way. He lives day to day, knowing that he'll make it through.


1. What is the worst thing you've ever done?


"I heard a beating. Screaming, then, the screaming stopped. Naw, I don't mean, like, stopped stopped. Just....screams turned to whimpering and whining. The sound of a person giving up. Sound of a person becoming, like, less. Accepting that this is their life. And I just, kept walking. Sometimes, you just.....keep walking. I sometimes wish I had that moment back. You know. Climb the stairs, kick the door, make things better. Or make 'em worse, fuck if I know. Prolly worse, but I'd at least have tried. We don't get those moments back. "


2. What is the worst thing you can imagine yourself doing?


"Life can be hard. You ask people what the worst thing they can do is, and they'll say 'murder', or they'll say 'rape'. Well.....I been in scrapes. I know what it's like to have a knife in your hand and a bastard in front of you. Never actually closed the deal on anyone. Never fucked a woman who didn't want it. No. No, I know what the worst thing I can do is. I can make life harder for those who already have it bad. I can decide that my need to eat today trumps that of a kid. I talk about the city like it's some kind of forest sometimes, I fuckin' know you think I'm some kind of hippy, but the truth is, this isn't the jungle. And even if it was, we're better than that. So, yeah. Snatching food from those who barely have it, just because my own stomach is empty. It's the worst thing I could do. Never done it. Been close, been bad, but never all the way there."


3. What is the worst thing you can imagine someone else doing?


"Well, that's interesting. You ask me what the worst thing I could do is, and then you ask me this, like you expect a different answer. What does it mean, if the worst thing I could do ain't the same thing as what I could see someone else doing? Does it mean I think I'm better? Think I'm worse? Well, then, same answer, but fancied up a little. The worst thing I could see someone else doing is choking out the chance for others to survive. I don't mean anything fast, I mean a sort of slow theft. Taking away the things people need to live, to grow, to be people. You steal bread out of the mouths of the hungry, slap books out of the hands of the ignorant, you've murdered them. You took what they could have been, and killed it. I've known people who knew they were gonna die. They knew it for days, weeks, months. Just, all the chances they needed were taken away. No bread, no books, no sunlight. Murder, but the kind of murder that leaves only dust on your hands. There's your fancy fuckin' answer."


4. What is the most traumatic thing that has ever happened to your character?


"I....sold myself once. It was cold, and I was hungry. The guy musta been three times my age, maybe more. I got to eat. The bed was warm. I left the next day with a pair of new shoes, and the knowledge that my body wasn't really my own anymore. Didn't feel clean. It wasn't, like, a dude thing. I'm not into men, and you know, I think that turned him on even more, that he could tell. That's not it, I just.....fuck it, can we talk about something else? That was three years ago. Ancient history."


5. Strange things happen in every life - what have you forgotten?


"Nuthin', alright. Fuckin' nuthin', I got it all up here."


Lies. Vincent was in Seattle two years ago, no fixed abode, making his way with a bit of this and a bit of that. Got to hanging around with a crew of homeless guys who had their shit unusually well held together. Tapping on street corners, these guys made mad bank, always enough for grub and liquor. Their squats were downright cosy, and the fuzz never bothered them. No beatings, no stabbings, they were the safest bums he'd ever hung with. Vincent doesn't remember why he left them, only that it wasn't good. Yeah, they were, like doing something bad with kids, or they were into some kind of drug that he didn't fancy. He had his reasons.


Vincent doesn't remember the pit. Vincent doesn't remember Mattie Hawes pulling the short straw. Vincent especially doesn't remember how hard Mattie fought not to go down there, wrists tied to his ankles behind his back. Vincent doesn't want to remember the shuffling, slapping noise of those terrible feet on bare dusty cement. Vincent only remembers walking away, stopping to throw up, and then keeping on walking.


The Best Part Of Him: He tries hard to give a damn. Against the worst of the world, Vincent tries so hard to be the person who gives a damn.


The Way He Is At His Weakest And Worst: The flip side of his strength is his stoicism, and not in a good way. When things are bad, Vincent can almost just shut down, refuse to feel, and walk away.

 

[Grey]

@JayTee In case you missed the updates.

 

[JayTee]

Ayup, I missed the updates! I'll have them up for you as soon as I can. :smiled:

 

[Erica]

Interest - #5:

“That gum you like is going to come back into style.”​

Maggie Copeland

​

.

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The Basics

​

Name: Magnolia “Maggie” Copeland


Age: 28


Concept: Cultivated seeker of experience


Occupation: Computer analyst (freelance)


Net Handles: The Magπ / TehMagPi


Vices: Nicotine, Puzzles, Peyote, LSD, Lost Causes, and Trends


Fears: Stagnancy, Public Speaking


Strengths: Quick witted, empathetic, and open minded


Weaknesses: Addictive personality, avoids conflict, can be flippant at inappropriate times

.

Return Trip

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The chime of tiny, tinny birds drew her focus. Early, it seemed; she wasn’t done yet mulling over the concept of spirit as air, filtered through one’s soul. Shared and collectively consumed, everything connected through the bridge of spirit. Nothing would change this fact; it was a matter of whether you understood it. It seemed so obvious now.


Practice makes perfect, and Maggie had plenty operating in this state. Recognizing that time was fluid when she indulged, Maggie reached for her phone, intending to turn off the alarm.


It wasn’t her alarm.


Her father’s voice drifted to her, sounding strangely small. He called to her through time.


"Hello? Mags? ... Magnolia? Can you hear me?” The hand-rolled cigarette had burned to ash behind the phone.


Not through time. From New York. Was it Sunday morning already?


She groaned, glaring at the phone with unfocused eyes, heard her name a few more times before she brought the phone to her ear. “I’m here.” Her unresponsive tongue made the words sluggish.


A pause on the other end of the line; the weight of a thousand disappointments hanging in the electronic ether between them. Adding one more to the pile. He had stopped asking for details three years ago, stopped berating her a year after that. Her mother hadn’t reached the same conclusions yet. She called less often.


“I’m here,” Maggie repeated into the silence. “Late night.” She ran her hand over her face, leftover glitter abrading her skin.


“When you have an early night, kiddo, that will be a newsflash.” His tone was largely affectionate with only a twinge of condemnation. She’d take it. “So... what’s on deck for this week? Going to save the world?”


Recalling the protest scheduled for next week, Maggie smiled drowsily. “Just Boston. It’s a start.”

Background & Personality

Educated at a succession of expensive schools, Magnolia is proof that no matter what the deans and brochures promise, the best education doesn’t guarantee an upstanding citizen. She was bright and curious, but tired of the system quickly. “Doesn’t apply herself” was the common theme from her teachers, but they were wrong: she challenged herself by venturing off the beaten path - or so she thought. Kleptomania kept her busy fingers content and her parents exasperated. As a young adult, her focus shifted to how to work the system to her advantage so she could delve into new experiences.


And she was good at it.


She applied herself to computer systems, drawn to the comfort of their patterns and the freedom of a consulting gig. Her parents (well-off, divorced, and always willing to compete with each other) seemed content that she was working somewhat regularly. The job allowed her to play in her free time and provided a network of contacts online that she bonded with under her net identities. Plus, acting as a consultant allowed her to choose which customers she worked for as well, providing the option to decide who to rob charge exorbitant fees and who to help. (Non-profits focused on social causes always seem to get her services at a steal.)


<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_12/Maggie_5.jpg.9e80d57a5d65db9ed847154cf99fd983.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="36591" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_12/Maggie_5.jpg.9e80d57a5d65db9ed847154cf99fd983.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p> Life is all about ups and downs, however, and Maggie rides that roller coaster with no hands. Bubbly by nature, she falls in love - with people and concepts - easily, and out of love just as quickly. She loves to rail against social inequities, oblivious to the irony of her own advantages in life. Over the last year, this has involved working to assist social activist networks, both with computing as well as spreading the word and participating in protests.


Maggie is all about experience and exploration. The latest trend, the hottest gadget, the adrenaline rush of hang gliding (just once, though), or outthinking a puzzle or asshole: she loves them all. Except assholes. Those she can’t stand. She needs stimulation to be content and considers her ability to connect with others as her greatest strength.


Her weekends (and some weeknights) are spent frequenting clubs and bars, losing herself amongst the people and music, or exploring heightened states. While she has tried all manner of party drugs, her current preferred escape comes through exploration of her mind. Peyote & LSD; she doesn’t use them often, but when she does it almost seems she can scratch that itch that never seems to leave her mind.


You see, something’s off. She can’t put her finger on it. It’s nothing specific, per se; just a feeling. Like she’s missing a crucial piece of a puzzle. Usually under stress, she buckles down and works through the details, but that has proved daunting when she can’t pinpoint the problem. She has been working with social activists in an attempt to understand the bigger picture, but that process is still running in the background at this point. In the meantime, she does what she can and escapes when the chance presents itself.


Character Interview Questions

Hit Me

The pack of cigarettes is produced, tapped, and depleted of one of its slender inhabitants. Maggie folds her legs beneath herself on the oversized chair and grins, a slight downward tilt to her head as she fishes in the pocket of her jeans for a lighter. Pausing briefly, she looks up and wiggles her eyebrows. She never backs down from a dare. “Hit me.”

1. What is the worst thing you've ever done?

​

That earns a blink. “Wow. Way to come out swinging. Um... okay.” She takes a breath and exhales slowly before nervousness creeps into her grin. “There was this bad batch of ‘shrooms once...


"But... I know what you mean.”


Pausing to light the cigarette, she inhales deeply. Smoke surrounds her before she answers. “It’s a matter of scale, right? What do you consider to be ‘bad’? I’ve given clueless jerks the command to wipe a system. One used it, even. Idiot. I heard the cleanup took days. At least they had a solid DR process.


“But, personally? There was probably some messed up thing in high school. You know, kids are cruel and all that. But that's the stuff no one remembers in the end. Not the details anyway.”


The image of a girl flashes in Maggie’s mind: tracks of mascara marking smooth cheeks beneath blond, once-perfectly-coiffed hair as she cries behind the gymnasium. Ashley Brooks, the queen bee of Woodcrest School for the Gifted’s freshman class, knocked from her throne after photos of her private and very personal session with the lacrosse team were published on the school website for the world to see. Ashley was never quite the same after that. Neither was Maggie.


Revenge might be best served cold, but even a bitch like Ashley didn’t deserve the fallout that had ensued. While they never traced it back to Maggie, she has never forgotten it, either.

2. What is the worst thing you can imagine yourself doing?
​

Raised eyebrows accompany a dry chuckle. “I can imagine a lot.” Trips and daydreams cover uncharted ground, but those concepts evade the average grasp and description alike, even for the initiated. After a while you stop trying to articulate the experience, accepting it as a temporally constrained event.


“The worst thing I would actually do myself? If there were no rules, no consequences?” Her shoulders lift and fall in a smooth motion. “Hmm. Violence and crime is where most people would go, I guess, but that’s not my scene.” Her nose wrinkles in thought before it comes to her.


“Maybe... if I kept an invention to myself." The pieces fall into place as she talks through them. It happens often enough that Maggie no longer consciously recognizes the process. "Not quantum computing or anything like that - those are too big to be contained. But some little thing, an app or gadget or concept that seems cool but could change the world in the right hands. I could see myself keeping it as my personal toy. Not maliciously, but because it seemed like it would lead somewhere. Like I could take it somewhere, all by my lonesome. But then I rob brighter minds of the chance to really make it thrive. Not realizing the ripple effect of my choice.”


Another shrug. “That or running over a dog...” That triggers a frown, her brow knitting in obvious unease.

3. What is the worst thing you can imagine someone else doing?

​

“Well, you’re just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” She takes another drag off the cigarette and shifts her legs, unfolding one and leaning forward to tap the ash into an almost empty coffee cup.


“Stealing someone’s hope,” she answers quickly. “That’s really what the worst things are all about, at core, I think. Oppression, rape, murder, you know, the big ones. Yeah, murder takes a life, but it’s the surviving family that suffers. Of course, that doesn't apply to torture...” She shook her head, raising the cigarette to her lips once more.


Fingers thread into her hair at the back of her skull, tugging on it briefly. “Why are we talking about this?”

4. What is the most traumatic thing that has ever happened to you?

​

<p><a href="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_12/Maggie_2a.jpg.3e96aebc01e46c5eec4b77f701af5dfa.jpg" class="ipsAttachLink ipsAttachLink_image"><img data-fileid="36589" src="<fileStore.core_Attachment>/monthly_2014_12/Maggie_2a.jpg.3e96aebc01e46c5eec4b77f701af5dfa.jpg" class="ipsImage ipsImage_thumbnailed" alt=""></a></p> “What? No questions about my favorite color or what I want to be when I grow up?” A smirk as she snuffs out the first cigarette and reaches for another. “I’m beginning to think you have a serious dark side.”


Maggie leans back to study the ceiling, a long pause before she answers. Amorphous shapes move in the dark, their very presence promising obliteration. Instinct screams not to look; even brushing up against the thought of doing so makes her mind ache. Like peeling back layers of her skull to expose something raw and vulnerable, leaving a temporary wound as a reminder; the mental equivalent of burning the roof of your mouth. Taking a slow breath. Just a bad trip; nothing more. Letting it out and conjuring a smile.


“Nothing, really. Parking tickets and a rubber bullet or two at a protest. I’ve led a charmed life; haven’t you heard?”

5. Strange things happen in every life - what have you forgotten?

​

The cigarette is relegated to burn without her encouragement, balanced expertly across the top of the coffee cup. "That... is a damn odd question."


How many shadows had she seen? How many things that didn't add up? Each explained away by the last trip, a tired mind, a glitch in the system. Were there ones that hadn’t registered at all? Or was this a piece of the puzzle that taunted her?


Maggie leans forward, elbows on knees as her eyes narrow slightly. "Why? What do you know?"

Character Sheet (the Crunchy Stuff)

Maggie's Character Sheet (PDF)

Notes on the character sheet (these don't fit well on the PDF)​

Skill Specialties:

• Computer* - Systems Architecture & Hacking
  
• Crafts (Computers)* - Networking & Security Systems
  
• Investigation* - Social Networks & Cryptography
  
• Larceny - Pickpocketing
  
• Socialize - Bar Hopping
  
• Streetwise - Black Market
  

Details on Merits:

• Professional Training (Computer Science) -
  Asset Skills are Computers, Crafts (Computers), and Investigation
  
• Contacts (Hackers)
  
• Multilingual (Spanish and Japanese)
  

* Asset Skills

​

​

NPCs in Maggie's Life​

Since all the kids are doing it these days... her musical theme:


[media]
​

[/media]

 

[Masks of Ayn]

“Once, we ruled in Atlantis. We sought to challenge the Divine, and so we were scourged from the earth. A blow so terrible it tore a great Abyss in reality and left our world Fallen. We who are so touched by God must control our hubris and understand that this is a gift given unto us. And it must be used accordingly.”
Tarot Signifiers: The Hierophant, The High Priestess


Mystery Card: Strength.

Clyde Ray Pharyn
​

Life Is A Game…

"Now, Mr Pharyn, I want to try something new, this being your first encounter. Make things interesting. May I ask you some questions as though you are in a job interview?"

He never would have seen himself in such a position. He only ever placed himself in a position of struggle if it led him to his success. In the past, it had. It has. He hasn't had to struggle and fight for anything for a very long time now, yet here he was.


Abandonment was not something new to Clyde, his mother committed suicide when he was ten, and his father is a low-life who didn't know how to raise children, let alone be considered a decent human being. He abandoned his baby brother with that man so he could build a new life, left behind the fake love and charity his father groped from the willing with his sob story of becoming a widow, even when he caused her death. Clyde only ever saw the misfortune in the world, all he ever dreamed was to Rise above it.


Eyes calm as the sea on a windless day, he nonchalantly crossed his legs at the knee, reclining back to look at the other man. He gives a small nod, "Might as well, sure."

"Alright, Mr. Pharyn, or may I call you Clyde?

What is the worst thing you've done in your life?

"

Clyde stares a moment, crystal blue hues watching the certified Psychiatrist where he sat adjacent to him. What kind of question is that for a meeting like this? He ponders to himself, it was a rather person question. He takes a breath and evaluates himself from the inside, Honesty something he always tried to grant, even if blunt.


"So far? I abandoned what family I cared about long ago... My little brother, forced him to grow up with a hard life and no one who loved him." That truth hurt on the inside, a guilt that would sit on his conscience. Everyone had a choice, at the time he chose what was best for himself, in pursuit to gain a better one for him and his brother, but that didn't mean it was the best for the one he cared about. "Left him in a home of an abusive father while I went to make my own life. No one should have to go through that alone."

A Dream Only Comes True When Pursued

Homelessness at the age of eighteen, even with jobs head over heels, all it gave him was his tuition. His Knowledge that he yearned for. Traveling miles with only hard work and little education brought him to the playing field with recommendations to the pristine eyes of scholarships and grants to continue his path to become an engineer.

His experiences while homelessness granted him common sense and diligence not only toward his goal but in the streets. Five years of school, one year of internships and working his fingers to the bone, heavy with callus' to make sure he could pay for his life, food, what the grants and scholarships didn't cover. The whole process to fulfill his dream and earn a Master's Degree in Engineering, sub-devised for Petroleum, Clyde became Distant, he's far too Independent which has caused a lack in social acceptance and Empathy. It caused him to be Aggressive on his ground, to protect and shield what was his. But his pride hasn't ever let him fall into a rock bottom pit, only climb up, and that made him hit harder than others. He would always succeed. And compared to is counterparts, he would own no debt.


Eight years later, a higher paying salary than most with the ability to travel across the world if a project ever called his expertise, a home.... You'd never expect such a success story for a man to be so bitter in the fields of the rest of his life. He was completely satisfied in the sense he accomplished what many in life seek but never reach, yet he still felt Alone.

"I see, very good. So than,

what is the worst thing you imagine doing?

"

Again with the personal questions, Clyde lets out a faint sigh, rubbing his palm across his stubbly beard. This one can concern my career... "Off the record? No one can, well, hear about this later?"

The Psychiatrist shakes his head, "No, only between us. Patient privacy privileges and what not. Unless of course, you threaten harm to yourself."

Clyde was a man of many flaws in the eyes of others, but the audacity to even think of ending his own life caused him to laugh. His pride wouldn't allow him to do such a thing. "Well, if this is hypothetical," he treads slow, carefully thinking about his words, "I could see myself destroying another man, if ethical and morals ever lead me to believe it just. Murder is an extreme only the short minded man provides; no, making someone suffer, wishing they never caused an ounce of pain to another in their life… to feel what they’ve done to others I think is far worse. But otherwise I do not ever seeing myself reaching such lengths. Now, is that answer going to cause others finding out?" His last statement was rather sarcastic. He did have hot blood in him, a gift from his estranged father.

"No, as you said. Hypothetical." The Psychiatrist didn't even write it down. "What is the worst someone else can do?"

Clyde's fist clenched.

There Was a Little Boy...

A little boy who always clung to Clyde's side and made him want to live. A small child, a sturdy boy, who had the largest of hearts with an even bigger smile. Clyde pushed this boy away when he left at eighteen with the promise of a better life.They just needed to Survive.


The two would send letters, once Clyde had the money, even if it meant he couldn't eat for a few days himself.

He'd do everything in his Power to make sure the harsh world would let this boy move along each day without fail.


Clyde returned after seven years, when the boy was seventeen to fulfill his promise; the damage had been done though. Clyde could see the darkness that gripped tightly to the once happy little boy, who was a boy no longer. No amount of money, or miles away from their birthplace could remove it. He felt at fault for his brother's spiral into a colder world, one he over came himself; poverty is a terrible thing though, promising a new beginning to plummet ones last bit of hope into hell. And that warm loving heart shriveled and a cold, hateful young adult was born, who only knew cruelty and pain.

"Take a loved one’s life away…. Are we done?”

“No, unfortunately time is not finished yet.

What is the most traumatic life experience you’ve had?

”

Clyde’s chest tightened, he knew this question would come. It was what brought him here in the first place. His fingers grip the bridge of his nose and he sits there, contemplating getting up and leaving. Emotions were not a strength, even though he found his mental state Secure; he didn’t understand the connection it gave for others to concern themselves.

​

He Always Hated the Rain

It was a long day, when he got home. He had to work twice the normal over time he usually did, making sure the new drill for the oil Rig fit and ran smoothly. A normal thirteen hour day turned seventeen. The news was normal for his area, living about two hours away from his actual company, shootings, robberies, the little old lady who passed away at one hundred and three.


What he didn't expect was the phone call by the police, informing him of that exact shooting on the news... Or the hospital nurse calling after to the next of kin stating his younger brother was going to the ICU but she couldn't disclose more on the phone.


Time getting to the hospital was a blur, he couldn't believe his ears. His brother wasn't a bad kid, he was fixing his life... Clyde knew he still had some problems, was involved with drugs on the side... but not anything worse than weed and maybe some prescription pills. But he was trying to turn himself around, that was all that Clyde cared about, he knew it was coming to a close..


He didn't expect the bloody gauze rolls... the stab wounds, his brother's face hardly recognizable from being beaten in. The gun shot wounds with bullets in a triplex around the chest... Holding his brother's hand as they went to surgery, next to him as he fell under anesthesia, watched the surgery... Sit and wait for him to wake up during the night... He didn't expect his brother to die, move on to the other side, when their new lives were just beginning together. He didn't expect him to not wake up... the obnoxious beeping of the monitors blaring for the nurses and doctors, who forced him out of the room as they tried to resuscitate.


All because he wasn't home... if he had been home normal hours like he promised, it might have been different. The rain that poured on the windows, ringing in his ears as it drowned everything out. The cold rain that never made anyone comfortable.

"I'd rather not talk about it... maybe another session."

The Psychiatrist makes this note and nods. "Very well, we'll end the session with this.

Strange things happen, what have you forgotten?

"

Clyde rose, pulling his trench coat off the couch armrest and swinging his arms through, tugging the collar flat. "If I forgot something, wouldn't you think I wouldn't remember? Strange thing happen, maybe its a sign. But unless I'm mistaken, once something's forgotten, it doesn't return unless another something, more powerful than before, forces it back."


----------


@Grey to be added as a #2 applicant :3

 

[JayTee]

Alright, updated the original post. Lemme know if you want more details, as the character is still in the process of being formed and questions will help me solidify him faster.

 

[Syrenrei]

I edited my Vivian character pitch (it's on page 3). I'm not entirely satisfied with the result- I hold myself to what I call the Erica standard now - but I think it will suffice. I hope having a character with a tragic past isn't a requirement (number 4 in the questions). Even if this evolves into a darker RP, I just don't really fancy heroes with a lot of tragedy in their past... not really my "schtick." Let me know if it's a problem and I'll cook up a good sob story for her. =)

 

[Erica]

@Grey Maggie is finished.

 

[Grey]

Good job, everyone. I believe @Grin still needs to answer the questions, but unless there are other applicants we can soon move on to the final phase, and then it's just a matter of waiting for the new year.

 

[Ozmic]

Good job, everyone. I believe @Grin still needs to answer the questions, but unless there are other applicants we can soon move on to the final phase, and then it's just a matter of waiting for the new year.

Yep. I've been murdered on time, but hopefully this weekend (RL crap aside) will give me time to actually post in things and update this character idea of mine with those answers.

 

[Grey]

You've got practically a month, so don't rush yourself.

 

[Dusky]

Anyhow, i've some things i want to add to Beth. i was thinking on the drive home today that she should be fleshed out more, and that my pitch didn't make it evident how she fits the criteria of being someone relatively normal who has a general feeling of not-right-ness. i doubt she'd hold up if any competition jumped in for 4, so....


i'll be getting on that ASAP.


 
Satisfactory edits made to Beth... might change more later, but that's the bulk of it. Anything added won't be particularly significant.

 

[Grey]

Stiff competition. I almost want to open it to more players so I can have some of you interact. Maybe I will, down the line.


Anyone who wants to take a stab at Phase 3 - including Grin - feel free to PM me asking for it. For some of you it might take some time, afterall.

 

[alexis the furry]

was i accepted?

 

[Grey]

Not yet. You need to update your application like the others if you still want to be considered.

 

[alexis the furry]

i have nothing left

 

[Grey]

[QUOTE="alexis the furry]i have nothing left

[/QUOTE]
You see the five questions in the original post? You need to answer those for your character.

 

[alexis the furry]

yes i believe

 

[Grey]

Well, those have not yet been answered and edited into your Application.