Name: Ichabod Strafe

Age: 32
Sex: Male
Sexuality: Straight
Relationship Status: Single, unwillingly divorced.

The Body

Height: 5,11
Weight: 165
Hair: Black
Eyes: Brown/Hazel
Skin Tone: Tanned, ruddy
Appearance: Messily slicked back hair, Perpetually unshaven, athletic build, somewhat disheveled and a real bad chainsmoker.

The Soul

Likes: Cigarettes, guns, dogs, cars, planes, sugar, the B.O.I and his ex-wife.
Dislikes: Smoke free zones, getting shot at, Garlic, spiders.
Skills:

• Offensive driving
• Can fly a plane halfway decent
• Very observant
• shooting
• A nose for lies

Brief History:

• Born to russian immigrants in Wisconsin
• Dropped out f school to join the navy
• Leaves the navy after meeting his Ex-wife
• Recruited by the Bureau
• Divorced against his will
• kicked out of the Bureau for crackpot ideas and disobedience
• Drifting around from job to job, searching for proof of extraterrestrial existence

The Story

Strafe frowned to himself as he sat in a small cafe on the outskirts of the city, his coffee cold, crumbs all that remain of the pastry he had brutally dismembered. It had been a treat to himself, for no real reason, an extravagance given his current financial situation. Funds had been low for a while, especially after getting fired from the Pinkertons. Bastards, wouldn't know talent if it kick 'em in their collective ass. Which he would have felt the need to do, if they weren't all trained man hunters. Not so much cowardice on his part, he felt, as a prime example of his brains.

Receiving another glare from the owner - he hadn't purchased anything in hours, just sat to stay out the snow- he slowly stood up, made a show of stretching, putting his coat on, and pointedly leaving no tip. As he hustled into the cold, he wrapped his coat tighter around him, pondering his next move. Money, was what he needed. With enough money, he could get the evidence he needed, present it to the Bureau and get reinstated.
He tailed a well dressed man with a paper for about 3 blocks, before the man tossed out the paper, and Strafe snatched it out of the bin, flipping through the ads. Grocery bagger wanted. Nope. Construction, for that pay? Nada! Elderly man looking fo.... Oh. Best paying one. Figures. Than something caught his eye. Investigator wanted. Oh-ho! Certainly wouldn't hurt, would it? Getting paid to do what he did naturally.
He made his way to the nearest pay phone, pausing for only a moment before he rammed his last dime into the slot, and dialed the number......

The Ether

Color Code:
Theme Song: Make it tens or twenties baby. This is not required, just for funsies.

Is constantly fiddling with his wedding ring, thinking of his wife.

Name:Mr. Samuel Wu, Esq.
Age: 34
Sex: Male
Sexuality: ”Straight”. It's 1921, after all.
Relationship Status:Confirmed bachelor.

The Body

Height:5'6”
Weight: 138 lbs
Hair: Black
Eyes: Brown
Skin Tone: East Asian
Appearance:Wu is a well-heeled man of cultivated and genteel appearance. His hair is carefully done, he dresses exclusively in tailored suits, and there is never so much as a speck of dust on his person.

The Soul

Likes: Opera, a glass of wine, the latest investment opportunity, promoting the interests of New York's Chinese population
Dislikes: The Tongs, dirt, racist sentiment (it's 1921 so that is most sentiment)
Skills:

• Skilled banker and investor
• Moderate wealth
• Influence in Chinatown
• Wine connoisseur
• Speaks Mandarin, Cantonese, French, Italian, and English
• Expert knife thrower

Brief History:

• 1887: Born in Chinatown to immigrant parents.
• Schooled in the American tradition, spends as much time as possible in the library. Learned knife throwing from less savory characters in the neighborhood, still practices for stress relief.
• 1912: Rather than join his brothers in running his father's small tailoring shop, Wu instead goes to work for the Benevolent Fraternity of Merchants, a Chinese-American organization that protects local rights.
• Frustrated by the refusal of Chinese custom by local white banks, the Fraternity begins operation as an unchartered bank for the Chinese population. Wu is placed in charge of investments and helps make the enterprise profitable.
• 1900 on: Amidst Wu's slow rise, two local Tongs, the Hip Sing and the On Leong, go to war. It is a simmering, ongoing war that occasionally explodes into open violence. The Fraternity and the ordinary citizens of Chinatown are caught in between. However, the police and other white authorities largely ignore the brutal gang war. Wu's efforts against the Tong come to naught.

The Story

The phonograph scratched as the needle caught, and the small but comfortable study was filled with the swell of strings. The overture to Bellini's Il Puritani, featuring as Talbo none other than the incomparable Enrico Caruso (may he rest in peace, gone earlier this year).

Mr. Samuel Wu, Esquire nursed a small glass of sherry as he looked over his mail. As he has expected, much of it was letters he had hopefully dropped off at the post office, returned unopened when his Chinese surname and Chinatown return address were noted. Crestfallen, he looked over them. His missives to the New York Post, the Board of Aldermen, the District Attorney, anyone he thought might listen. Despite the perfection and eloquence of his English they had not bothered.

With all the talk of mobsters and racketeers, all the men like Rothstein and Dwyer and Morello, no one in this town seemed aware of the decades-long mob war being fought below 14th Street. The Hop Sing and the On Leong had perfected the art of murdering one another over turf and opium long before any of the Jewish, Irish, or Italians began running rum and trading bullets. So many young men dead, so many parents suddenly childless. Wu was suddenly hit by a wave of powerlessness. There had to be something he could do.

Maybe if the law would not help it was time he acted on his own.

The idea hit him like a thunderbolt. It was silly, it was impractical, of course. But the idea of acting the chivalrous hero, to be a Parsifal or Don Ottavio, it appealed to the child in him.

But where to begin? He knew nothing of policing or detecting. Unless he were to take a sabbatical to somehow learn and practice such skills, and then teach them to other community-minded individuals. . .

Wu picked up the newspaper he had idly leafed through earlier, trying to find the ad he spotted earlier in the day. He found it, read it over twice to be sure. He nodded to himself. This was the right choice.

He wound up the telephone, lifted the earpiece from the receiver, spoke in his most cultured voice, which coincidentally was his standard voice. “Hello, operator? Kindly connect me to Miss Elizabeth Hobbs, please.”

The Ether

Color Code:6A5ACD
Theme Song: Prelude to Cavalleria Rusticana

Name: Violet LeBlanc
Age: 19
Sex: Female
Sexuality: Homosexual
Relationship Status: Single

The Body

Height: 5 feet 5 inches
Weight: 120 lbs
Hair: Strawberry Blonde
Eyes: Brown
Skin Tone: Pale
Appearance: Despite her lack of muscle, Violet cuts an intimidating figure. Her confident swagger and the manic glint in her eye can set off your danger signals, even if she’s all smiles. Her figure is lanky and boyish, and she dresses the part, wearing exclusively masculine clothing. The most casual outfit she wears consists of a button-down shirt, slacks, and a necktie.

The Soul

Likes: Weapons (mostly knives), Jazz, Pretty Girls, Fights
Dislikes: Cops, Strict People, Genuine Displays of Emotion
Skills:

• Great with a knife
• Plenty of underground contacts
• Almost naturally intimidating
• Quick on her feet
• Intimate knowledge of weapons, injuries, and bodies.

Brief History:

• 1900: Felix LeBlanc is appointed head of the LeBlanc crime family after his father is murdered.
• 1902: Felix and his wife Beatrice give birth to a daughter, Violet.
• 1914: After coming into contact with gang activity, Violet starts learning how to use weapons.
• 1916: Violet starts doing errands for the gang (rum running, shake-downs, etc.)
• 1919: During a deal gone wrong, Violet proves herself capable of “subduing threats.”
• She is appointed as an assassin (her identity is kept a secret from all but the highest ranking gang members).
• During this time, she racks up a body count in the tens.
• 1921: In a police raid, the high-ranking members of the LeBlanc gang are apprehended, including Violet’s parents.
• Violet escapes being arrested, as the investigators can’t connect her to the gang’s activity.

The Story

Violet sighed.

Really, she should have seen this coming.

The sound of her knife on the hard bar surface was the only thing keeping her thoughts from consuming her. She had her hand splayed on the bar, and was bringing the knife down over and over on the spaces between her fingers. She had nicked herself a few times; she wasn’t exactly in top form.

On a normal occasion, she would have been kicked out of the speakeasy by now, especially since she hadn’t bought a single drink. This wasn’t a normal occasion, though, and the intense aura emanating from the girl told everyone around her that she shouldn’t be messed with.

Yeah, it was inevitable. Her parents were bad people who did bad things, and they were caught. She should have been counting her lucky stars that she wasn’t caught along with them. She should have been skipping town, changing her name, leaving her past life behind.

But something was keeping her stuck to the ground.

“Violet.”

She turned her glare towards the source of the interruption, the bartender, Lowell. She didn’t stop her little knife game.

“What.”

“I’ve got something you might be interested in, unless you’re not done scratchin’ up my bar.”

“What is it.”

“A job opportunity. Found this flyer outside for a detective agency. Figured your skills might be of some use; and God knows you need something to make you quit moping.”

“I’m not exactly the crime-fighting type. Seems a little hypocritical, doesn’t it?”

Lowell slid the flyer over to her casually.

“Hey, it’s your choice. But this is the last time I let you stay here all day without buying any drinks.”

Violet winced and looked down as she nicked the side of her middle finger. She glared at her knife like it had cut her on its own. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the flyer, and the phone number written on it.

She shoved her hand in her pocket and found just enough change to make a single call on a pay phone. With a frustrated sigh, she flicked her knife closed and stood up. The door slammed shut behind her, the flyer absent from the bartop.

At the very least, she would ask about the job. If she didn’t get hired, fine. If she did, well, at least she wouldn’t be bored.

The Ether

Color Code: 00CED1
Theme Song: Josie Miles - Mad Mama’s Blues

if you choose to use one

Name: Adeline "Addy" Reese
Age: 30
Sex: Female
Sexuality: Many rumors abound that Miss Reese keeps the company of either sex; she does nothing to quell them. People will talk.
Relationship Status: Single

The Body

Height: 5'9"
Weight: 124
Hair: Black as midnight
Eyes: Green as an emerald
Skin Tone: Colored
Appearance:
Miss Reese is something of a child of controversy least of all because of lingering sentiment from unsavory sorts. The controversy comes more from her preference towards two rather unique schools of thought. She admires the flapper style of skirted dress, short hair, and a rather long cigarette. She, however, can mostly get away with it when she's on stage and the spotlight beams down on her harder than the eyes of the audience. It's when she adorns pants, men's slacks, and the accompanying vest that it becomes a little harder to defend for those who see it as a problem.

The Soul

Likes: The clink of ice as a drink is downed. The electric hum that hangs over a crowd as they await a show worth remembering. The sound of rain pattering off the roof. The first drag of the day. Stimulating conversation.
Dislikes: Crime, even of the organized sort...especially of the organized sort. The ocean, more specifically boats. Zeal of any sort, it's a remarkably bad look. Large cats, even a house cat has her rather wary.
Skills:

• Can charm the hat off of almost anyone worth charming.
• A quick wit betrays a quicker intellect.
• Regardless of how good she is or isn't, when talking fails she isn't afraid to scrap.
• Has a stash of money. Just in case.
• Can't drive a car but she can still ride a horse.

Brief History:

• Born in Louisiana and was considered a real swamp witch given the proximity to the bayou.
• Father was a gator farmer. Brother lost an arm which led to him losing a whole lot more.
• A trip to the city to sell meat and skin had Addy hearing the blues for the first time.
• Stole herself a banjo. Her daddy paid for it.
• Attended Dillard University to learn enough to get by.
• Relocated to Chicago, playing piano and banjo. Worked her way up to singing. Caught the attention of a club owner out east.
• Miss Reese's Quartet becomes something of a staple in the New York nightlife, and yet she wants.

The Story

Write a post. Instead of relying on personality through traits or a history through mere sentences, give me you character as you would write them. Don’t write their past. I want you to write me about how they came across the advertisement, their thoughts on it, and what made them decide to apply. Establish them. The MOST important part of your CS.

The Ether

Color Code: CC00FF
Theme Song: Make it tens or twenties baby. This is not required, just for funsies.

And anything else you feel pertinent to add, even as for yourself to reference.