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Lords Of Liam OOC (Accepting!); A modern mob drama roleplay.
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Topic Started: August 29, 2010, 3:03 am (2,144 Views)
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Iris
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August 29, 2010, 3:03 am
Post #1
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 Welcome to the Lords of Liam OOC thread! IC here.
Overview The city of Liam is a Mecca for the cutting-edge and business affluent. In recent decades the city has become a sea of sky-scrapers and the home of many a new billion-dollar company. As a result it sometimes surprises people to know that the town used to be a plain place populated mostly by immigrants with small businesses. Two corporations sprung from those humble beginnings and came to own virtually every company, firm, and manufacturing plant in town. The names of these corporations are The Zeitmann Corporation, or “ZeitCo” and The Faust Corporation, “FaustCo.” The rivalry between these two kings of commerce has grown more and more fierce over the decades. The only thing that separates these two economic bigwigs from regular corporations is that instead of being run by a board of directors they are headed by a single person and their family. Controlling several businesses in a city like Liam is both brutal and fantastically rewarding. This place is about being the best or going home, so it was only a matter of time before the rivals pushed things even further.
Two generations ago Louis Faust lead the foray into crime as a means of getting ahead. It wasn’t long before the Faust Mob came to be. Refusing to be left behind, the Zeitmann’s created the Zeit mob shortly thereafter. The members of both groups range from the kin of super-business elite, to the ones barely scraping by. Regardless of their social status, many seem to end up in one of the mobs. The privileged one’s because they are expected to outshine their family’s achievements, and the others because it is one of the few ways to possibly make it in the big city. It’s all about the money and the power. These groups will do anything to get an upper hand even if that means wiping out the competition.
General Rules
Spoiler: click to toggle 1. This is literate of course. Grammar and spelling are important. 2. I’m going to say a two paragraph minimum to start out. Of course you can make your posts as long as you want. Seven paragraphs is fabulous, but not required. 3. Be nice and respectful to others in the OOC thread. 4. Romance and violence are perfectly acceptable and encouraged. 5. There is no rating on this role play. 6. If you want to quit. State this in the OOC thread and your character will be whacked, so we can get you out cleanly. 7. Interact with everyone in the RP. If somebody is all alone go find them, don’t let them wander. 8. Remember no God-modding. In fights there can be auto-hits but the character hit can always trump what you wrote. 9. If you have a suggestion for the story, suggest it! # I can and probably will edit or add more rules here.
Cast
Spoiler: click to toggle
Character Slot Descriptions
Spoiler: click to toggle Owner: This is the head of the corporation. Their name is either Zietmann or Faust. Extremely wealthy and powerful. Must be at least middle-aged. Can change who their heir is. This is a business and mob position
Heir: The person who inherits the power when the corporation owner dies. This is the oldest child when the story begins, but it might change.
Family: Relatives of the owner. The wealthiest citizens of Liam. The sons are required to work for the mob as Capos if there is room.
Assistants: Help the owner with non-criminal business actions. They are usually well off.
Servants: Cooks, maids, butlers, etc. They are usually lower-class.
Boss: Limit 1 per mob. Co-Head of the mob along with the owner. Reports directly to the corporation.
Capos: Limit 5 per mob. More experienced mob members. They are dignified and well-dressed. They have the authority to train and order about the soldiers.
Soldiers: The largest group. Entry level mob members.
Non-Affiliated: Has no place in either ZeitCo or FaustCo. Read suggestions.
Character Rules/Suggestions
Spoiler: click to toggle 1.Reserve your position by asking on this thread. 2.Post your sheet here and I will approve or deny it. 3.The Zeitmann's are of German descent. The Faust's are of French descent, so assign family member's heritage accordingly. 4.You can make a non-affiliated character, that doesn’t fit in any of these places but only if there is a way to work them into the story. Not too many of them at first, please. 5.These people have been living in the same city for awhile now, some probably know each other. Talk to others in PMs or the OOC thread to decide if your characters have a past. This is just a suggestion, it makes things more interesting! 6. Up to three characters allowed per person!
Character Skeleton
Spoiler: click to toggle Name: (First, middle, last) Nickname: Gender: Age: (Be sure it makes sense for their position) Affiliation: (FaustCo or ZeitCo) Position: (Possibly multiple. Owner, heir, family, boss, soldier etc. If you aren’t affiliated with any corporation put ‘Nobody’) Romantic Interest: (‘Crush’ in other words) Heritage: (English, Romanian, Chinese etc.) Short History: (What's life been like?) Personality: (Remember to give them flaws) Appearance: (Real-life photo or very good description) Weapon: (Be general. They also might not have one.) Extra: (Something that didn’t fit elsewhere? If not, erase this line)
This idea was inspired by this short.
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Je Ne Regrette Rien
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Wicked
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August 29, 2010, 3:09 am
Post #2
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The Derp Queen
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Question about the heirs. Must they be male?
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Iris
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August 29, 2010, 3:11 am
Post #3
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nope, not at all.
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Je Ne Regrette Rien
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Wicked
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August 29, 2010, 3:11 am
Post #4
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The Derp Queen
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Yay!! I reserve Zeitmann heir!!
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Iris
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August 29, 2010, 3:13 am
Post #5
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okie dokies. I'm so glad to already have some interest for this!
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Je Ne Regrette Rien
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Wicked
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August 29, 2010, 3:17 am
Post #6
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The Derp Queen
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^w^ It's a catchy rp. I'ma wait for some others to catch on so I can scheme some relationships, bwahahaha.
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Iris
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August 29, 2010, 3:27 am
Post #7
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ooh yess, I'm going to go try and whore this out to the people in The Road that Leads You. haha.
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Je Ne Regrette Rien
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Wicked
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August 29, 2010, 4:19 am
Post #8
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The Derp Queen
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Lol, have you posted it in the Now Playing?
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Iris
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August 29, 2010, 4:23 am
Post #9
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No, but I should, huh? I'll do that.
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Je Ne Regrette Rien
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Wicked
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August 29, 2010, 4:25 am
Post #10
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The Derp Queen
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Yeah xD That would be a good idea.
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Iris
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August 29, 2010, 4:41 am
Post #11
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done. woohoo! and now the boring part. waiting.
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Je Ne Regrette Rien
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Wicked
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August 29, 2010, 4:48 am
Post #12
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The Derp Queen
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*plays solitaire while she waits*
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Iris
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August 29, 2010, 4:54 am
Post #13
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Solitaire has to be one of the best games ever in the word. *nods*
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Je Ne Regrette Rien
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Wicked
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August 29, 2010, 5:01 am
Post #14
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The Derp Queen
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*nod nod*
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Iris
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August 29, 2010, 5:02 am
Post #15
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Well I need to go to bed, so while I'm gone I demand everyone to join! >> Anywho, g'night.
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Je Ne Regrette Rien
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Wicked
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August 29, 2010, 7:59 am
Post #16
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The Derp Queen
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Okay, this is it so far for anyone who is interested in making relationships:
Name: Sophia Zietmann
Nickname: Little Sophie (only called this by her parents)
Gender: Female
Age: 27
Affiliation: ZeitCo
Position: heir
Romantic Interest: open to any affairs within the Faust group, preferably gang member/heir
Heritage: German
Short History: Sophia was born into the wealthy family of ZeitCo, pampered and given all she desired. From birth, her parents cherished her existence after years of trying to conceive and finally being able to have their beloved Little Sophie. It seemed like the perfect family. They were well off and loving towards Sophia, always bending to suit her needs and selfish wants. It was only after her mother's passing that Sophia finally woke up and saw the world she lived in.
The day her mother die, Sophia felt as if her heart had been torn out as she raised her hand in class to answer a question. What was this feeling? Why was she feeling it? It made it hard to breathe when a man walked through the door and whispered to her teacher. The look on the woman's face was full of pity. From that moment on, Sophia hated the look of pity. She hated sympathy. Sophia didn't want to feel the hands or sad eyes on her as she laid her mother to rest. She wanted her mother back. Each glance at her mother's cold body was a stab.
Sophia didn't want materialistic things after that. It's only after you've lost something real and breathing and loving that you realize everything you were selfish enough to want up until then was rediculous and unimportant. Nothing was satisfactory except the look of pride in her father's eyes when Sophia grew more intelligent, more strong. She needed to be different, she needed to fill the void with something meaningful. But it seemed that every chance she got to prove herself, her father shot her down. Each meeting he attended made her more lonely. He'd left her alone in a house full of ghosts. And so, Sophia tried harder to distance herself, to be busy.
From piano to ballet lessons, Sophia worked to be everything and anything while being followed around by top notch security that her father had placed in the spot reserved for him. It was strange at first, having security and she didn't know where it had all materialized from. The fear of having someone else die on him? There had to be more by the way they hounded her. Her family was one of the most powerful, if not the most powerful, family in Liam as their company dominated. She knew that with this came many family secrets and a danger Sophia could never seem to grasp entirely. The security that surrounded her 24/7 proved this.
Her father kept her mostly in the dark when it came to the ways of the business, sheltering her for as long as possible from reality; something she'd always loathed. Though, soon, he named her his heir to the chair of the ZeitCo company. The weight of the world crashed down on Sophia's shoulders but she knew, somehow, she would be able to handle it all. She had, after all, turned out to be the brightest of the bunch. Sophia knew that she would be able to run it, though what she would do about the gang she'd found herself involved with indirectly thanks to her new title Sophia hadn't a clue.
More to add as I develop relationship(s)
Personality: She is bright but easily stressed. There is something that always lures her to the dangerous or immoral things in life. She seems innocent on the surface but beneath the skin, Sophia is durable and very aware of her surroundings. She will not stand for lies or manipulation of any sort and considers herself independent, always yearning for her father to lay off of the security that surrounded her 24/7.
Appearance: Sophia
Sophia carries strong genes that tie back to her great-grandparents with her deep blue eyes, red lips and vibrant cheeks, and her blonde hair. She is slender but toned thanks to her days in the gym. Her fingers are long, giving away her years of piano lessons, and her legs strong.
Weapon: Security, that's the only thing keeping her away from bodily harm. Extra: Sophia has a Persian cat named Rachelle and lives in a loft in the center of the city.
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aoberaz
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August 29, 2010, 9:13 am
Post #17
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Holy damnation this sounds like a great mafioso setting. Count me in; I've got (imo) a great concept for a strong-arm. Probably nothing as dramatic as a hitman or the like, but the kind of enforcer small bosses like to have around when talking to troublesome people. I'll whip out a character profile and submit it, but there is one point I want to PM you about with my concept. Hopefully you like it too.
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aoberaz
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August 29, 2010, 1:16 pm
Post #18
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Name: Lake Nicholas Rieser Nickname: Little Nikkie Gender: Male Age: 25 Affiliation: ZeitCo Position: "Soldier" Romantic Interest: TBA Heritage: unknownon his mother's side, but German on his father's
"Short" History Lake's life has been one of loss and trials since his days as a child. Shortly after his birth his mother died in a freak car accident which would have claimed his own life as well were it not for the selfless actions of his father who risked his own life to save that of him and his mother. Ultimately his mother succumbed to her wounds, leaving the three-year-old Lake to be raised by his father, Malcom Write Riser; a harsh but fair man who provided for Lake through sacrifice and and his position as a soldier for ZeitCo. In addition to his mysterious job, Malcom held down a second job as a garbage collector three times a week or more when he could get the hours. And though he dearly loved his son Lake, the last evidence of his beloved wife, he was at times heavy handed and short tempered. Knowing his father loved him, and understanding the kind of stress he had to endure day in and day out in order to give his son the best chance he could, Lake forgave his father for everything. Every bruise, broken bone, and hospital visit was tempered not by resentment and spite for his father, but with love for a man who gave up so much and asked so little in return.
Even at the age of 13, when Lake wanted to refuse to go to the private school (for which his father paid for by way of taking a THIRD job, this one unbeknown to Lake) his father refused to let him join in his work to help carry the load. "You'll go to school and learn, just like all the other kids! You be the best of them! That's what your mother wanted for you, and that's what you'll be!" his father would tell him in such tones that Lake knew that no matter what happened his father wouldn't hear any objection. So it was that on those days when his father worked as a garbage collector, Lake would sometimes be seen sneaking out of their little one room apartment before the crack of dawn while his father was exhausted and passed out on the living room couch with a beet in one hand and a dead cigarette in the other. Once outside he would run up and down the streets of their neighborhood lining up all the trash cans and even earning some small allowance for himself from the kind hearted, who paid Little Nikkie a nickel to take their trash from their yards and put them properly on the streets to be picked up later in the morning. And despite the gang of adolescents who routinely beat Little Nikkie bloody for being out so early with nothing to protect him from the older boys, when he got home he stemmed his tears, wiped the blood from his nose and sneaked back in to wake up his father to ensure he didn't lose the trash collecting job because he overslept. "Thanks, kiddo," he would say, running a calloused and cracked hand through Little Nikkie's hair, "Now you get back in bed and get some sleep before school." before pulling on ratty boots, gloves and cap and walking, slump-shouldered through the front door.
Part of Lake always wished that his father would see the bruises and bloody noses, the same part that wished he could do more for his father, that he could quit school and earn a real man's pay and let his father get more than four or five hours a night. Each time he sneaked out of the house he wanted his father to wake up and ask him where he was going, to stop him and tell him that he would quit the job that caused his father to have to get up at the crack of dawn to lug trash around the streets. But even so, his love for his father provided him with the stealth of a cat while sneaking in and out, while enduring the countless beatings and taunts about his father, taunts that hurt Little Nikkie more deeply than any mortal blow could have.
As Little Nikkie grew into a young man he began to wonder about the other jobs his father held. Though Lake knew that he worked for ZeitCo, his father would never talk about what he did for the company, or at least would never give an explanation that Lake could believe. At the age of 15 Little Nikkie was no fool, and knew all too well the kind of business his father was likely to be involved in. But it wasn't until he was 16 that he sneaked out of school for the first time to find out. After having endured years of the taunts of other children at school with a stoic expression, he finally had enough and broke the nose of a senior before bolting out of the school. At first he had intended to run straight home, but on the step of his door his kindly neighbor stopped him to inquire about his father, who she said had been seen being pulled down the alley the next lock over by a pair of rough looking characters. Hearing this, Little Nikkie immediately made for the alley and arrived to the sounds of shouts, groans and the all too familiar sound of a fist meeting someone's jaw. Little Nikkie knew that sound all too well, it was the same one he heard every time he a beat by the gang of youths when we sneaked out the help with the trash. With no heed for his own safety Little Nikkie jumped down the alleyway and turned the corner to see a sight that would forever be burned into his eyes.
Four men lay unconscious on the ground, beaten and bloody form head to toe with another two backing away from a figure who faced away from his. But Little Nikkie hadn't been fooled, he could have picked the sight of that broad back and grizzled salt and pepper hair out in the deepest of darknesses. As his father stepped forward, fists raised ready to continue battle with the two younger men in front of him, Little Nikkie called out in a trembling voice, "D... Dad?" He had gotten his father's attention, who looked over his shoulder at his son. It was the first time he had ever seen the flicker of fear in the man's grey eyes. But the fear was not for the two men that stood before him, but rather for the sight his son had witnessed. "Nikkie... what are you..." his father began, but at the sight of movement from one of the men, Nikkie shouted, "DAD!" In response, his father turned again and raised his fist to lash out... just in time to be struck in the chest by a series of three bullets, produced from the gun one of the men had pulled from behind his belt. Two struck the 40-something man in the chest, the last in the shoulder, causing his to turn and fall to his kneed. But his father hadn't been on the ground for more than a second before he burst back up to his feet and in a flurry of blows struck both men, throwing them against the wall behind them. But as Malcom Write Rieser stepped forward to strike out again, his knees gave way and he stumbled, this time landing on what was left of his right shoulder. Stunned frozen at the sight of his father hitting the ground with such finality, Little Nikkie was unable to move as the two men staggered to their feet and hobbled out of the alley.
In denial Little Nikkie rushed to his father's side and turned him over. Looking down at his dad he knew an instant of relief as he felt his father's labored breathing. But all came crashing down again in an instant as his father coughed mightily, disgorging a wash of crimson blood from his lungs. "Nikkie..." his father said, fixing him in his sight, " I have to... tell you..."
"Dad, don't talk. You've been shot... hold on! I'll get help!" he said, and made to set his father on the ground and run into the street, but was stopped by a hand that had once seemed so strong, but now held him with such a frail grip. "No," Malcom said through another mouthful of blood, "I have to tell you... your mom... she,"
But Little Nikkie shouted at him as the tears spilled down his face in torrents, "I know dad! She loved me! You love me! So don't go dad! Don't die! Don't... don't leave me alone..." That he knew his dad would profess his mother's love for him went without question in Little Nikkie's mind, for they had been words he had heard almost every night as a child as his father put him to bed.
The hand that held his shift so weakly released him to reach up and and strokes his son's cheek, smearing it with his blood in the mockery of war paint as he man said, "I'm... sorry..." They would be the last words Malcom ever spoke to his son, words he had never directed at the boy, who suddenly found himself all alone in the world with no one to care for him... with no one to love him.
Seconds later a man Lake had known all his life turned the corner and swore under his breath. Lake heard none of it, he was in complete brain lock as he looked down at the diminished figure of the man who had once been so strong... of the man who had save him as a baby, who had raised him into what he was... who had died because of that child. And as the realization came crashing down on him Lake began to howl in agony as his heart tore itself in two. Because he knew that if it hadn't been for him, if he hadn't come looking for his father, if he hadn't distracted him he never would have given the man the chance to pull the gun that killed him.
The rest of that week was a blur to Lake, who was taken in by Malcom's best friend, Warrent to live in his large uptown hi-rise flat. It was an apartment of such luxury that it only served to further confuse Lake, who had all his belongings delivered to the place and dropped into his new room which itself was larger than the entirety of the apartment he had shared with his father, Malcom. But even after a week Lake refused to leave the apartment he had shared with him. Twice he had sneaked out of Warrent's flat to break into the abandoned hovel, but after being arrested for trespassing and assaulting one of the officers as he was dragged kicking and screaming out of the apartment, and subsequently bailed out by Warrent, Lake realized that his father would never come home and shuttered himself in the new room provided for him.
After four days of refusing meals Warrent appealed to Lake better nature by telling him that he had known Malcom better than anyone, and that he would hate to see his Little Nikkie starving himself out of grief. The argument that followed was one of such ferocity that Lake nearly struck out at his father's best friend, a man who had been like a godparent to him and who was now the only man providing for him. Realizing that he was risking losing the last place he had to live, and not wanting to go back to the streets that had treated him so badly, and killed his father, he agreed to let Warrent take care of him.
Little Nikkie returned to school after a two week absence. Except he was no longer Little Nikkie, but Lake Reiser, a boy to had suffered a grown man's trials and was still struggling to overcome them. And that the children in his class no longer poked fun at him or his deceased father made no difference to him. Lake told himself that they were only children, pampered, coddled and unknowing of true pain. But rather than resent them, he pitied the teens in his class, though not the fact that they still had their own parents to love and be loved by. He pitied them because he knew that once they arrived in the real world they would discover the pain of loss. Perhaps not as powerful a pain as the one he had to now endure, but suffering through greater pain than those around him was not a foreign concept to Lake.
Once out of school Lake was introduced to an associate of Warrent's. A man who was in charge of a small time horse betting operation. There he was was in charge of taking bets and managing the races, and sometimes going to the track itself to do work of a less scrupulous nature, such as threaten the jokies or poison the horses to make sure certain people lost. It was a lucrative job, and compared to the task of sneaking out at night to be beaten on by teens twice his size, bullying the undersized jokies was a cake walk. For about six months everything went smoothly, and for the first time in his like Lake found himself able to afford the kinds of food and clothes his father could never have provided. This glimpse into a better way of living turned into a secret sense of resentment for his father. Lake refused to believe that if his father had been able to make the kind of money Lake was not making that the two of them would have had to live the way they had. All that changed when the boss Lake worked for received a call about one of their betters. He had wagered and lost a hefty sum on one of the races Lake had help to fix and was unable to pay the money. But Lake was not surprised, he had known at the age of 16 who really ran this town, and the kinds of things that were done in order to maintain that rule. But when Lake and his only other co-worker arrived at the shack the man lived in, Lake was unpleasantly surprised to learn who the man was.
Standing before him was one of his father's killers, the man whose jaw had been forever disfigured by one of his father's punches. Though it wasn't the man who had pulled the gun and shot his father, Lake could not help but blame the man for the death of his parent, and by the time he was done beating the man to death had painted the walls inside the shack red with the man's blood. Breathing hard with both his own and the man's blood dripping from the knuckles he had broken as he finished his father's work and got his small piece of revenge, he realized that he could not resent the memory of his father. No matter what had happened, no matter what the reasons for having to live the way they had, Lake couldn't do anything but love his father, who had sacrificed everything for his son. In that instant Lake felt like less than the 18-year-old man he was, less than the 16-year-old he had been when he held his father as he watched him die, less even than the fresh teenager who sneaked out three times a week to be beaten by those bigger and stronger than him as he tried desperately to take whatever load he could from his father's shoulders.
In a shack dripping with the blood of a brutal murder, a murder Lake had committed in a fit of passion and revenge, he stood there and cried. And as the tears cut clean streaks through the spatters of blood on his cheeks he knew that no matter the revenge, no matter what the pleading, no matter how much money he earned or pretty things he bought, or people he intimidated, his father would never come home. He would never again feel the sensation of those calloused hands running through his hair.
Fully prepared to be scolded for the murder of one of their biggest debtors and expecting to be reported to the police for the act whereupon he would serve the rest of his life in prison, Little Nikkie, no longer so little, returned to work. But after presenting himself to his boss, he was surprised to hear that they had disposed of the body and burned the shack to the ground, destroying all evidence of the crime. Amazed, Lake agreed to the new responsibilities he had eared by proving himself capable of murder. Moreover, when Warrent learned of what Lake had done he began paying him to take lessons form "certain friends of his". There he learned how to put the experience he had in giving and receiving beatings to better use. He also learned the art of firearms, proving his talent at quick draws with pistols, and extremely long shots with long-arms. Soon Lake was a fully fledged Protector, and was reassigned from his position at in the races to work as a full-time bodyguard to one of the distant cousins of the Zietmann family.
Though he knew it was a great honor to be trusted with the lives those belonging to the Zietmann bloodline, he couldn't respect himself for what he was sometimes forced to do in order to insure the safety of the family. Until one day Lake found himself in a worst case scenario, pinned down with no backup and under fire in the middle of the street as hit-men of the Faust family attempted to assassinate the family of three, father, mother, and 7-year-old daughter Melessa. Evidently his charge had muscled in a little too powerfully into Faust territory and was deemed too much of a risk to let live.
So Lake found himself clutching the only remaining member of the family in his charge, the young girl Malessa, and desperately trying to figure out some way to survive as they crouched behind what was left of the luxury sedan they had been driving when they had been t-boned by a garbage truck. The mother had died in the crash, and the father shortly after that as automatic gunfire began hailing down on them from the front of the garbage truck.
Alone and out numbered, pinned in an indefensible position, Lake knew that his only option was to do something desperate and foolish. Setting Melessa down, he slapped a fresh clip into his custom desert eagle mk xix, and bounded over the upturned sedan to rush up one side of the garbage truck. As he felt the hail of gunfire tear through the air around him, he had the ludicrous thought that this vehicle was the exact same one that his father used to throw bags of rotten trash into when he was a child.
His feet pounded against the asphalt and the gun in his hand roared once, twice, three times. Lake was a good shot, and despite firing at a full sprint watched as two of his three shots hit their mark squarely in his target's chest. Even as he reached his assailant he brought the muzzle of the gun up, putting it directly under the chin of the man with the machine gun. Again his trusty Desert Eagle roared, creating a scene of such gore in that one shot that, professional or not, caused Lake to gag. But he couldn't stop moving, he that the instant he stopped moving he was a dead man. Releasing the butt of his pistol with his left hand, he reached for the machine gun even as it fell from the fingers of the decapitated man. Spinning the weapon around he grabbed it by the grip and spun around the front of the garbage truck even as gunfire tore through the space he had been an instant before.
Lake felt the air hitch in his chest as he circled around the front of the vehicle, his desert eagle in one hand, the automatic rifle in the other. As he met the second of his attackers he planted both his feel and opened fire with both weapons, spraying the man with death. But even as he did so he felt the sensation of a muzzle being pushed into his back. He hadn't realized that there was a third shooter, and had therefore allowed himself to stop moving. But despite everything, despite running two men into the ground with such viscousness, despite the threat of imminent death flying towards him, the only thing Lake could think of was how his father had looked as he stood at the far end of that garbage truck, ready to hop of and pick up the next stinking, filthy bag of trash.
The thought of his father, Malcom Writer Rieser, standing through his fatigue and doing such a disgusting, and therefore noble job, filled Lake with strength as he attempted to spin around and catch his final attacker. But of course the gunman was a professional too, he had expected a man foolish enough to charge headlong into oncoming machine gun fire to be willing to risk everything for a chance to live. The bullet that tore through Lake passed through the right side of his back and out the front in a stray of blood. But a shot to the chest hadn't been enough to stop Malcon, and it certainly wasn't enough to stop Lake in that moment. Spinning around, Lake lashed out with the pistol in his right hand, catching the back of his attacker's hand and crushing the bones there even as he dropped the machine gun and grabbed the offending and now broken hand. With a move he had practiced many times before Lake twisted the man's wrist and stepped behind him pulling the man's arm with him as he swept his feet out from under him, forcing him to the ground with his arm twisted up behind his back. Then, placing the barrel of his pistol against the back of the man's head he pulled the trigger and spread his skull across six feet of asphalt even as the pain of his pierced lung and shattered ribs hit him.
Laboring to his feet Lake turned to the back of the garbage truck and saw something that took his breath away much more than the pain or collapsed lung. Standing at the back of the garbage truck with his ratty hat and rubber gloves and boots stood Malcom Reiser, Lake's father. Lake saw him as clearly as he saw the blood now spreading back his belt, and watched as his father stood proud and tall, one hand raised in a gesture of welcome Lake had long since forgotten. Lake smiled and mimicked the gesture as the desert eagle fell from his numb grip. In that instant Lake thought he knew what was happening, he thought that his father was there to pick him up and bring him into the great beyond to to with him and his mother. Lake reached out to him, but faltered as he saw Malcom shake his head, a sad little smile on his lips as he turned and pointed behind him to the wreck of the luxury sedan. Following his father's gesture, Lake looked and saw the little girl, Melessa peaching out from around the side of what had once been her family car. Eyes wide and breath hitching, Lake looked back to his father to see him glaring fiercely down at him from between he and Melessa, back straight and shoulders back and proud.
"You telling me to live, dad? For what? More of this?" he asked his father, looking down at the dead bodies that were even now cooling in the street. But the sound of his father's gravely voice reached him saying, "You still have a job to do. Now go and do it."
Face pale with shock of both the wound in his chest and the sight of his father, Lake Reiser nevertheless found himself getting to his feet once more and found that his knees did not give way this time. Stepping forward with one hand over the bleeding wound in his chest, Lake stepped forward towards the little girl whose duty is was his to protect. With each step the image of his father came closer, and as he passed him he once again heard Malcom's voice whisper to him, "Make me proud, son."
Six months later Lake Nicholas (Little Nikkie) Reiser was released from the state hospital to return to his home in the hills. But he wasn't home for longer than an hour before he received a phone call. Answering the phone he heard the voice of his godfather, Warrent.
"You got a new job Nikkie. Come to this address as soon as you can."
Personality: Despite a long life of violence and suffering, Lake is surprisingly gentle and understanding. Indeed, for a man whose life has been soaked in so much death and blood he a positive teddy bear with a never say die attitude and a pention for self-sacrifice that has led him into a great deal of trouble, but has also provided him with such rewards as to make jealous his less willing kinsmen. But this selflessness is a double edged sword, often cutting him as deeply as his enemies.
Appearance: Height 6'2", weight 203lbs, build athletically toned.

Weapon: Well trained in hand to hand combat specializing in joint locks and submission, as well as pistols and rifles, favoring higher caliber weapons whenever possible Extra: Sorry for the stupidly long "short" history. Good stories grow in the telling.
Edited by aoberaz, August 29, 2010, 4:54 pm.
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Curiosity Calls
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August 29, 2010, 3:42 pm
Post #19
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Beautiful Mistake
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If you'd like to Advertise this Roleplay please shoot me a PM. We can include you on Twitter, our Facebook, and/or the Mass E-mail. You can also request to be Roleplay of the Week and be featured on the homepage. Just PM me with a few sentences of description and I'll do what I can!
Also, if you have yet to do this. I suggest you post your Roleplay in the Directory.
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 Formerly known as Midnight Insanity.
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Iris
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August 29, 2010, 5:22 pm
Post #20
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Member
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aoberaz and Paradox ,you are both accepted!
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Je Ne Regrette Rien
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Wicked
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August 29, 2010, 6:23 pm
Post #21
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The Derp Queen
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Splee! Now for more people.
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Iris
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August 29, 2010, 6:26 pm
Post #22
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Agreed! Oh btw, I forgot to post this so I'll add it in a second, but you guys are allowed to make multiple characters. Up to three.
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Je Ne Regrette Rien
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Wicked
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August 29, 2010, 6:36 pm
Post #23
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The Derp Queen
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Shweet. I might take you up on that at a later time if I find I can juggle two characters.
@Aoberaz: About the bodyguard situation, is it the beginning of his assignment when the rp starts or have they already had a little history together?
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aoberaz
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August 29, 2010, 6:36 pm
Post #24
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Brilliant! Can't wait to test this concept out in practice. I think I'm going to keep things to just one character for the moment... I like to feel I've put a good deal of effort into Lake and expect it would only bog the RP down if I did it again at this stage... plus I don't know how convincing a concept I could come up with after having created Lake.
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aoberaz
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August 29, 2010, 6:43 pm
Post #25
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- ParadoxInABox
- August 29, 2010, 6:36 pm
Shweet. I might take you up on that at a later time if I find I can juggle two characters.
@Aoberaz: About the bodyguard situation, is it the beginning of his assignment when the rp starts or have they already had a little history together? I think that unless we're given an compelling reason not to, that we should begin our opening posts by having our two characters meet. That said, there is one more thing I want to add.
If you throughly read the back story (and mad props if you did) you may have noticed that Malcom (Lake's father) took on a new assignment shortly before he was killed. This assignment was actually the protection of your character during her high school years. During this time Lake was only 13, but Sophia would have been 15 and just preparing to enter high school (if I got the age and timelines right... feel free to correct me if I'm wrong). But shortly after her graduation he died "at the hands of a pack of street punks".
Does that conflict with anything you have in place for Sophia?
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