Welcome to Streets on Fire! This is a roleplay centered around two rival gangs in the streets of a desolate, futuristic New York. It will be a story of self-discovery, betrayal, revenge, confusion, and depression. With a possible silver-lining, just don’t get your hopes up. There’s a noose right in the corner over there if you need it.
In case you don’t know the background info, I will reiterate what was posted in the interest check.
The RP will be centered around multiple teenage characters with a vast array of problems and the gangs they belong to, and how they survive. Those who wish to join will have a choice between joining either The Lost Ones or The Amaranth Wolves, which are rival gangs in New York. These are not the only two gangs in the city, but they are the most prominent and have the most well-known rivalry.
As far as the setting is concerned, it will obviously take place in New York City, but imagine most of it looking like the Bronx (abandoned buildings and streets, graffiti, etc.), except for a small, posh area called the Haven where the kids like to screw with the aristocracy. This is in the future, but the technology hasn’t advanced much as the economy has crashed long ago, causing the plague of poverty to descend upon almost every family. There is still, however, some sense of order within the city as the police do still snoop around and try to stop the child gangs from wreaking havoc on the rest of the city.
The two rival gangs are not very similar. They both have stress slightly different values and don’t run the same.
The Lost Ones are open, inclusive, and stress togetherness in a sense that does not bind one to the group or exclude them. Formless and leaderless. Aimless except in the search of survival and guidance. They are everyone, and they are no one. The goal is survival through means based in morality. No killing, and no stealing. But, if it came down to it, they will use physicality to get what they need to survive. Incapacitate, do not kill. Will their lack of a killer’s mentality be a savior, or their downfall?
The Amaranth Wolves, on the other hand, are a more exclusive gang. They do not let just anybody join their gang; not for elitist reasons or what have you, but for their lack of trust in outsiders. They have a pack mentality and any one member would die for the rest. They place their trust in a leader and they work toward a common goal. However, the Wolves aren’t quite as tender as The Lost Ones. They have no problems with breaking the law, and their way of approaching problems can be quite risky.
I will be playing the leader of the Amaranth Wolves, whereas Dark Wind will be a member among the ranks of The Lost Ones. We will be co-GM’ing the thread. It would be ideal for both gangs to have an equal number of players.
Like previously mentioned, this is set in New York, but in the future. Because of this, obviously some things have changed. This would include boroughs and their names. Amaranth is one of the biggest boroughs of this futuristic New York. It is violent and chaotic, and also where the Wolves got their name. That, and the nature of which they asserted their dominance and control of the territory. It is less chaotic ever since Angel took control.
But, due to the proximity with the boroughs of Tersei and Cailet, the Wolves have issues with the Lost Ones who run against the Wolves’ philosophy of “Hunt or be hunted.”
Tersei and Cailet are rich in resources for scavenging and other things. Very valuable and intriguing for the Wolves, but the numbers of the Lost Ones provide problems. And, for the Lost Ones a severe problem rises in that Tersei and Cailet are split by the Amaranth territory. They have to go through Amaranth to get to the other, or waste extremely valuable time going all the way around. So, stealth is extremely vital for their supply routes and secret trade runs.
Rules
- All of the general Guild rules are effective. This includes rules regarding spamming, godmodding, powerplaying, and basic roleplaying etiquette.
- You can only join The Lost Ones or The Amaranth Wolves. You are given the choice, but if one side becomes more populous than the other, we may have to move some people around.
- Although it may be obvious, themes will be present that not everyone may be comfortable with. This includes swearing, drugs, violence, and even the possibility of romance. These are all permitted, but if taken to the extreme, it should be discontinued. If desired, you can carry the romance or violence to PMs.
- Try to be somewhat realistic. One does not simply produce a gun or knife out of thin air. Keep track of what your character has on them, as well as what they are capable of.
- Try to avoid one-liners. Collaborative efforts are welcome (i.e., you can write one big post with another user. It’s super fun.).
- That being said, this is a casual roleplay, so acceptable grammar and spelling is necessary. Believe me when I say, however, that I (Blitz) make plenty of silly mistakes too, so don’t worry about it too much.
- We reserve the right to change these rules at any time for any reason. Just to be safe.
- HAVE FUN OR I SHALL HAVE YOUR HEAD.
- FINLAND. (Rule written by Dark Wind)
The Gangs
The Lost Ones are open, inclusive, and stress togetherness in a sense that does not bind one to the group or exclude them. Formless and leaderless. Aimless except in the search of survival and guidance. They are everyone, and they are no one. The goal is survival through means based in morality. No killing, and no stealing. But, if it came down to it, they will use physicality to get what they need to survive. Incapacitate, do not kill. Will their lack of a killer’s mentality be a savior, or their downfall?
Motto: "Lost, but not alone."
Symbol: The North Star
Headquarters: None officially. Emergency meeting warehouse in Tersei.
Members
Name: Jake Miles Cotton
Nickname(s): Jay or Cotton.
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Gang: The Lost Ones
Height: Six foot, three inches.
Weight: 208 pounds.
Appearance:
Lots of scars on his back from his father’s beatings.
Personality: I guess one could say that Cotton is quiet. Reserved to himself. And when he speaks there is something off about him. But, at his core, kindhearted. Mysterious, hard to read. Clearly bothered by something.
Short History: New York was always Jay’s home. Although, he’d say that he didn’t have a home. No place to call his own. With a drug-addicted mother who overdosed and died, and an abusive father, Jake didn’t grow up normally. A few friends outside of home and school, but once he turned 16 his father didn’t argue about putting him into the military.
Jay enlisted into the military and became a well-trained soldier. He participated in the most recent war of the times. A three year conflict with Hungary known as Operation Titanfall. The bloodiest war in the history of the entire world.
When he returned home, his father was dead because of the economic crisis. With no hero’s welcome, little money, and no job, Jay had to find something new.That something new was the gang known as “The Lost Ones.” It seemed perfect for someone like him. A place to find direction. A new purpose.
What that purpose would be is unknown as of yet, but one thing is for sure. He’s not the same person anymore.
Other: He always carries a journal on hand.
Nickname(s): Jay or Cotton.
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Gang: The Lost Ones
Height: Six foot, three inches.
Weight: 208 pounds.
Appearance:
Lots of scars on his back from his father’s beatings.
Personality: I guess one could say that Cotton is quiet. Reserved to himself. And when he speaks there is something off about him. But, at his core, kindhearted. Mysterious, hard to read. Clearly bothered by something.
Short History: New York was always Jay’s home. Although, he’d say that he didn’t have a home. No place to call his own. With a drug-addicted mother who overdosed and died, and an abusive father, Jake didn’t grow up normally. A few friends outside of home and school, but once he turned 16 his father didn’t argue about putting him into the military.
Jay enlisted into the military and became a well-trained soldier. He participated in the most recent war of the times. A three year conflict with Hungary known as Operation Titanfall. The bloodiest war in the history of the entire world.
When he returned home, his father was dead because of the economic crisis. With no hero’s welcome, little money, and no job, Jay had to find something new.That something new was the gang known as “The Lost Ones.” It seemed perfect for someone like him. A place to find direction. A new purpose.
What that purpose would be is unknown as of yet, but one thing is for sure. He’s not the same person anymore.
Other: He always carries a journal on hand.
Name:
Deserae Joe Cunningham
Nickname:
D.J.
Gender:
Female
Age:
17
Gang:
The Lost Ones
Height:
5'6"
Weight:
134 lbs
Appearance:
Personality:
D.J. is an extremely quiet individual, hardly speaking a word to anyone unless she absolutely has to. She doesn't seem to get agitated or irritated easily and has an unnaturally calm head on her shoulders with most situations.
Short History:
Very little is known about D.J. other than the fact that she's a loyal member of The Lost Ones and has been for quite a number of years. She hardly speaks a word to anyone in the gang and keeps to herself when she isn't expected to do anything relating to the gang. She spends most of her time at the gang's hideout, indicating that she has a really bad home life, or not one at all. More details about her past will be revealed in game.
Other:
None at this time
Deserae Joe Cunningham
Nickname:
D.J.
Gender:
Female
Age:
17
Gang:
The Lost Ones
Height:
5'6"
Weight:
134 lbs
Appearance:
Personality:
D.J. is an extremely quiet individual, hardly speaking a word to anyone unless she absolutely has to. She doesn't seem to get agitated or irritated easily and has an unnaturally calm head on her shoulders with most situations.
Short History:
Very little is known about D.J. other than the fact that she's a loyal member of The Lost Ones and has been for quite a number of years. She hardly speaks a word to anyone in the gang and keeps to herself when she isn't expected to do anything relating to the gang. She spends most of her time at the gang's hideout, indicating that she has a really bad home life, or not one at all. More details about her past will be revealed in game.
Other:
None at this time
Name: Hiroshi Rokuro Minato (by traditional ''lets reverse our names'' Japanese policy, so his first name is Minato)
Nickname(s): None
Gender: Male.
Age: 17
Gang: The Lost Ones.
Height: 1,86m.
Weight: 71kg.
Appearance: [hider3=picture]
[/hider3]
Generally wears non expensive clothes. His standard apparel consists of a loose thin grey that flows freely, sometimes covered by a black jacket which has a grey hood attached. No, he doesn't wear the hood 24/7 like a bad-ass, that's like wearing shades inside. Under that is normal dark blue jeans with a tigh fit around the ankles, finished with some black boots. Nothing special, he definetely doesn't stand out and looks more like a generic gang member than anything. He's got a tattoo though, a colourful orange-yellow sleeve filled with flowers in asian style, with a koi amidst them. He is not the epitome of muscle and has no intent to be, but the way he lives almost forces him to be a bit more muscly and therefore he has a somewhat toned body, especially in the arms. Apart from that, no real ''big bodybuilder type body'' for him.
Personality: Minato is a respectful, modest young man. He follows orders and doesn't question them, that is not saying he doesn't have a mind of his own, he thinks about his actions and speaks freely, even to his elders and superiors. He enjoys music but doesn't listen to much English music, preferring Japanese rap and hiphop. Apart from that he doesn't have much passions, and he often feels like his life is pretty bland and boring, even though he's involved with the Lost Ones.
Short History: He was raised in an all boys school, where his parents had sent him. They lived in Japan but realized that with American education you could get further. After he arrived he was sent there, and lived there pretty much his entire live, the fees for his school being paid from afar. After the all boys school he went to a normal high school, pretty much a normal kid despite the environment that he lived in. Once he turned 17 and finished his high school experience, graduating without much trouble and pretty high-ish grades, his parents both passed away in the same month to natural reasons. He flew back for the funeral and services and all that, then flew back, to continue his life. He didn't feel pain or sorrow, or anger, he felt slightly indifferent because he hadn't really known them after all.
A few months later he enrolled in college and got an appartment, shared with two other guys. They were there the first day but then dissapeared, judging from the marks on their arms they were druggies and were probably somewhere having a blast injecting all that stuff into their arms, meanwhile their appartment rent was probably paid for by mommy and daddy, not knowing that their sons never even stayed there. It was fine with Minato, he had the place to himself and all was good. That's when he got involved with the Lost Ones, first doing a few jobs for them here and there to get together the money that his parents normally would've sent him for the rent. After that it turned to hanging out with a gang affiliated with the Lost Ones, sort of working under the Lost Ones so to say. It was mostly the shit jobs, do this, run there, grab this, bring it to this guy and take your money.
It was good money for the time, you spent maybe an hour on every job and walked away with a wage most men would work two hours for. It was all fine by Minato. He slowly got more involved with the gang and over the course of the year he got fully integrated with the Lost Ones, as one of the least known members. He hasn't got many contacts in the gang itself and isn't really up to par with most of them street-cred wise, but he's willing to change that.
Other: He's an able fighter, not that good but not bad either. His strength is in enduring hits, being able to take a lot of blows before he gives in. He has never handled weapons and truthfully he would never want to do so either, one of the reasons he doesn't really like the way the Wolves operate, not that he knows much about them.
His appartment is practically a dump, but it's his dump and he enjoys staying there, cleaning it and doing all sorts of stuff with it. Don't insult his dump. He also has a sister still living in Japan, contact is very vague and short but they still talk from time to time. She's 23 and doing way better than Minato. She knows about his situation and wishes for him to change that by moving back to Japan, but has not really made any attempts to help him money wise and since he barely knows her he doesn't really trust her enough to move back to Japan.
Nickname(s): None
Gender: Male.
Age: 17
Gang: The Lost Ones.
Height: 1,86m.
Weight: 71kg.
Appearance: [hider3=picture]
[/hider3]Generally wears non expensive clothes. His standard apparel consists of a loose thin grey that flows freely, sometimes covered by a black jacket which has a grey hood attached. No, he doesn't wear the hood 24/7 like a bad-ass, that's like wearing shades inside. Under that is normal dark blue jeans with a tigh fit around the ankles, finished with some black boots. Nothing special, he definetely doesn't stand out and looks more like a generic gang member than anything. He's got a tattoo though, a colourful orange-yellow sleeve filled with flowers in asian style, with a koi amidst them. He is not the epitome of muscle and has no intent to be, but the way he lives almost forces him to be a bit more muscly and therefore he has a somewhat toned body, especially in the arms. Apart from that, no real ''big bodybuilder type body'' for him.
Personality: Minato is a respectful, modest young man. He follows orders and doesn't question them, that is not saying he doesn't have a mind of his own, he thinks about his actions and speaks freely, even to his elders and superiors. He enjoys music but doesn't listen to much English music, preferring Japanese rap and hiphop. Apart from that he doesn't have much passions, and he often feels like his life is pretty bland and boring, even though he's involved with the Lost Ones.
Short History: He was raised in an all boys school, where his parents had sent him. They lived in Japan but realized that with American education you could get further. After he arrived he was sent there, and lived there pretty much his entire live, the fees for his school being paid from afar. After the all boys school he went to a normal high school, pretty much a normal kid despite the environment that he lived in. Once he turned 17 and finished his high school experience, graduating without much trouble and pretty high-ish grades, his parents both passed away in the same month to natural reasons. He flew back for the funeral and services and all that, then flew back, to continue his life. He didn't feel pain or sorrow, or anger, he felt slightly indifferent because he hadn't really known them after all.
A few months later he enrolled in college and got an appartment, shared with two other guys. They were there the first day but then dissapeared, judging from the marks on their arms they were druggies and were probably somewhere having a blast injecting all that stuff into their arms, meanwhile their appartment rent was probably paid for by mommy and daddy, not knowing that their sons never even stayed there. It was fine with Minato, he had the place to himself and all was good. That's when he got involved with the Lost Ones, first doing a few jobs for them here and there to get together the money that his parents normally would've sent him for the rent. After that it turned to hanging out with a gang affiliated with the Lost Ones, sort of working under the Lost Ones so to say. It was mostly the shit jobs, do this, run there, grab this, bring it to this guy and take your money.
It was good money for the time, you spent maybe an hour on every job and walked away with a wage most men would work two hours for. It was all fine by Minato. He slowly got more involved with the gang and over the course of the year he got fully integrated with the Lost Ones, as one of the least known members. He hasn't got many contacts in the gang itself and isn't really up to par with most of them street-cred wise, but he's willing to change that.
Other: He's an able fighter, not that good but not bad either. His strength is in enduring hits, being able to take a lot of blows before he gives in. He has never handled weapons and truthfully he would never want to do so either, one of the reasons he doesn't really like the way the Wolves operate, not that he knows much about them.
His appartment is practically a dump, but it's his dump and he enjoys staying there, cleaning it and doing all sorts of stuff with it. Don't insult his dump. He also has a sister still living in Japan, contact is very vague and short but they still talk from time to time. She's 23 and doing way better than Minato. She knows about his situation and wishes for him to change that by moving back to Japan, but has not really made any attempts to help him money wise and since he barely knows her he doesn't really trust her enough to move back to Japan.
Name: Johnathan Blake
Nickname(s): John
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Gang: The Lost Ones
Height: 6'0 ft
Weight: 175 lbs
Appearance: Johnathan
Personality: Quiet, Slightly Insane, But with a strong since of justice he keeps to himself
Short History: After his brother joined the lost ones and died, Johnathan found himself alone his mother long since gone and his father having killed himself after losing his job, he got approached by the police who questioned him about his brother but he couldn't reveal much, but the police had a great idea since his brother had been in the lost ones it would be easy for him to get into the lost ones and inform on their activities the police let him go and he went off to join the lost ones.
Other: John is a police informant.
Nickname(s): John
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Gang: The Lost Ones
Height: 6'0 ft
Weight: 175 lbs
Appearance: Johnathan
Personality: Quiet, Slightly Insane, But with a strong since of justice he keeps to himself
Short History: After his brother joined the lost ones and died, Johnathan found himself alone his mother long since gone and his father having killed himself after losing his job, he got approached by the police who questioned him about his brother but he couldn't reveal much, but the police had a great idea since his brother had been in the lost ones it would be easy for him to get into the lost ones and inform on their activities the police let him go and he went off to join the lost ones.
Other: John is a police informant.
Name: Knox Callahan
Nickname(s): None unless someone comes up with one for him.
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Gang: The Lost Ones
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 145 lbs
[hider3=Appearance]
[/hider3]Personality: Knox is optimistic, laid-back, funny, stealthy, trustworthy, friendly, somewhat cowardly, outgoing, and slightly oblivious. His trust is easily won for this reason, making him an easy target to manipulate.
Short History: Knox isn’t a New York City native; he was born in Chicago. His father was an entrepreneur who actually had become quite successful with his business against all odds. As a result, Knox spent the beginning years of his life living in relative affluence with his parents. However, for some reason, something about such a life just didn’t appeal to young Knox. He hated all the snotty kids in his very rich private school and he was hardly allowed to go outside and meet other people. He didn’t know the real reason for this, of course, as his parents were merely trying to protect him from the harsh reality and violence of the world then. Being the little rebel that he was, Knox, at age 14, took some of his parents’ money and used it to take a posh bullet train all the way to the Haven in New York City, where he was quite appalled to see that things were about the same as in Chicago. But upon venturing a little ways away from the rich area, Knox had his first encounter with the extreme poverty that existed outside the wall of wealth he had grown up in. At first, he panicked about how he’d survive in such a world, and he regretted ever running away from his home… But there was no way he was going back. He had come too far already. He still had some of his parents’ money so he managed to hold his own for two weeks without getting jumped before nearly exhausting everything he had. About that time was when someone from the Lost Ones approached him, noticing he was alone and wandering without a real purpose. Although he didn’t say it aloud, the Lost Ones were exactly the type of people he wanted to hang out with. Not only would they help protect him, but, more importantly, he could make some real friends and do something meaningful.
Other: He has mild hemophobia. It doesn’t make him pass out or anything, but it makes tremble pretty bad and immobilizes him. He likes to smoke weed, but that’s about extent of his drug use. No one knows about Knox’s wealthy background. Also, his parents are still alive.
The Amaranth Wolves, on the other hand, are a more exclusive gang. They do not let just anybody join their gang; not for elitist reasons or what have you, but for their lack of trust in outsiders. They have a pack mentality and any one member would die for the rest. They place their trust in a leader and they work toward a common goal. However, the Wolves aren’t quite as tender as The Lost Ones. They have no problems with breaking the law, and their way of approaching problems can be quite risky.
Motto: "Hunt or be hunted."
Symbol: Handprint (usually red).
Headquarters: Basement of abandoned building in Amaranth.
Members
Name: Angel Cecilia McBride
Nickname(s): None
Gender: Female
Age: 19
Gang: The Amaranth Wolves
Height: 5 feet 9 inches
Weight: 120 lbs.
Appearance:
Her body type gives her good agility.
Personality: A good leader. Cold. Cunning. Ruthless. A killer. Values the members of her gang. Holds strong morals. Is good at thinking and planning. Sometimes enjoys making things unnecessarily harder to “build character.” Often enjoys to play with her victims.
Short History: No one, not even Angel knows her complete story. In the earlier days of the Amaranth Wolves, a crying baby and a slip of paper with "Angel Cecilia McBride" scrawled on it was found outside their main hideout. No one knows who left the blonde baby there or why; but the Wolves couldn’t simply leave it there to die, so they took her in as a new member to their then small ranks. They raised her personally, and she grew up to be one of the most loyal members of the Amaranth Wolves. As far as she was concerned, her real family betrayed her, and the Wolves were her brothers and sisters now. She was a good fighter and was especially tough, qualities that caught the eye of the former leader, Hayden. What even made her more indispensable was her unseemly appearance: her cute, smiley outward appearance would often throw off her assailants, giving her a momentary upper hand. When Hayden suddenly got sick and died from an unknown disease, Angel, then 15, was chosen to be his successor and lead the Wolves with a strong hand. She has done an excellent job at strengthening the bonds within the gang and has been successful in getting food and other needed supplies through the years.
Other: None for now.
Nickname(s): None
Gender: Female
Age: 19
Gang: The Amaranth Wolves
Height: 5 feet 9 inches
Weight: 120 lbs.
Appearance:
Her body type gives her good agility.
Personality: A good leader. Cold. Cunning. Ruthless. A killer. Values the members of her gang. Holds strong morals. Is good at thinking and planning. Sometimes enjoys making things unnecessarily harder to “build character.” Often enjoys to play with her victims.
Short History: No one, not even Angel knows her complete story. In the earlier days of the Amaranth Wolves, a crying baby and a slip of paper with "Angel Cecilia McBride" scrawled on it was found outside their main hideout. No one knows who left the blonde baby there or why; but the Wolves couldn’t simply leave it there to die, so they took her in as a new member to their then small ranks. They raised her personally, and she grew up to be one of the most loyal members of the Amaranth Wolves. As far as she was concerned, her real family betrayed her, and the Wolves were her brothers and sisters now. She was a good fighter and was especially tough, qualities that caught the eye of the former leader, Hayden. What even made her more indispensable was her unseemly appearance: her cute, smiley outward appearance would often throw off her assailants, giving her a momentary upper hand. When Hayden suddenly got sick and died from an unknown disease, Angel, then 15, was chosen to be his successor and lead the Wolves with a strong hand. She has done an excellent job at strengthening the bonds within the gang and has been successful in getting food and other needed supplies through the years.
Other: None for now.
Name: Amelia Baker
Nickname(s): Millie, Mia
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Gang: The Amaranth Wolves
Height: 1.65m
Weight: 121lbs
Personality:
Millie’s not the type to be in a gang. At least, not at first glance. Any innocent bystander would see her as the innocent type, the sweet type. Not a killer, not at all…right? But Millie has blood on her hands. She’s not vicious by any account, or even very violent – she’s resourceful and she’s smart.
Short History:
Millie was born into the gang. Literally. Her mother, Isla, was sixteen, knocked up and homeless. Her parents kicked her out after finding out that she was pregnant and Hayden, who found the pretty young girl one night, crying in the gutter, for some reason, took a liking to her and brought her into the ranks. The wolves formed a protective circle around Isla from that day until the day she died – she was sort of their answer to Snow White. She would make sure they all ate and were clothes. Isla was even less suited to gang life than Millie is but she loved them for taking her in and she appreciated it.
However, Isla’s stay with the wolves was rather short lived. She died seven months after joining the gang, on one stormy night, Millie’s first night in the world. Millie has never been able to shake the feeling that she killed her mother. Hayden raised her after that, all the while seeing Isla in her daughter – they had the same warm eyes and dark, luscious hair, but there was always a sort of resentment there. Hayden, who had fallen for the pretty rich girl whose parents abandoned her when she needed them most, blamed his adoptive daughter for her mother’s death. He loved Millie, but he had loved Isla more. When he got sick, Millie mothered him like her mother had before her. She still grieves for Hayden everyday – having been raised with Angel, she loves the girl like a sister, but Hayden at least had some compassion. Angel is a ruthless killing machine and Millie is often her voice of reason.
Other:
She’s never killed anyone – other than her mother.
Name: Deon Desmond Saunders
Nickname(s): Darth
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Gang: The Amaranth Wolves
Height: 5’11”
Weight: 168 lbs
Appearance:
Personality: Deon is a pretty cut-throat, brutal male that could be described as selfish and self-centered. He only looks out for number one (himself) however when his loyalty comes to be tested, he will do anything to prove he is better than anyone else. His hardened exterior can be chipped away though when a woman or two come into play, as he is a bit of a womanizer and has a pretty high sexual drive. He will, however, never put a woman in too high of a priority level, especially when his reputation is on the line of being a ‘bad boy.’
Short History: Born into a very poor family as the oldest, Deon was forced to start working at a very young age, therefore not able to experience much of any kind of child-hood. He had only his mother and younger sister for family; he had never once met his father getting the rather illustrious nickname ‘bastard child’ and his sister had a different father, who died when Deon was 11 years old in a car crash.
At first Deon was just a messenger boy, delivering secret messages to organization members that were more than a bit sketchy, but he knew better than to ask questions. The pay was poor and he was lucky if he didn’t get beaten by his boss on a daily basis, even if he delivered on time. As Deon grew up, however, he left the job as a messenger boy and started working in a slaughter house, butchering up the livestock into fresh meat and desensitizing him to the value of life in animals. Deon soon grew bored of killing animals however, and when he was 18 he got a job fighting in the ring at a local bar. He found that fighting others was something he enjoyed, even if a bit too much. Deon was on a pretty hot streak when he was then approached by a member of The Amaranth Wolves, and put his fighting career to the side to partake in something more fulfilling and…illegal.
Other: Deon has been with The Amaranth Wolves for over a year now and has quickly spread his name throughout New York as a deadly addition to the already merciless gang. He smokes cigarettes often and never passes up an opportunity to get drunk off his ass when his duties for the day have been met.
In case there was any doubt of his loyalty to The Wolves, Deon cauterized (scarification) his own representation of the gang's symbol to the opposite shoulder shown in the image above.
Nickname(s): Darth
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Gang: The Amaranth Wolves
Height: 5’11”
Weight: 168 lbs
Appearance:
Personality: Deon is a pretty cut-throat, brutal male that could be described as selfish and self-centered. He only looks out for number one (himself) however when his loyalty comes to be tested, he will do anything to prove he is better than anyone else. His hardened exterior can be chipped away though when a woman or two come into play, as he is a bit of a womanizer and has a pretty high sexual drive. He will, however, never put a woman in too high of a priority level, especially when his reputation is on the line of being a ‘bad boy.’
Short History: Born into a very poor family as the oldest, Deon was forced to start working at a very young age, therefore not able to experience much of any kind of child-hood. He had only his mother and younger sister for family; he had never once met his father getting the rather illustrious nickname ‘bastard child’ and his sister had a different father, who died when Deon was 11 years old in a car crash.
At first Deon was just a messenger boy, delivering secret messages to organization members that were more than a bit sketchy, but he knew better than to ask questions. The pay was poor and he was lucky if he didn’t get beaten by his boss on a daily basis, even if he delivered on time. As Deon grew up, however, he left the job as a messenger boy and started working in a slaughter house, butchering up the livestock into fresh meat and desensitizing him to the value of life in animals. Deon soon grew bored of killing animals however, and when he was 18 he got a job fighting in the ring at a local bar. He found that fighting others was something he enjoyed, even if a bit too much. Deon was on a pretty hot streak when he was then approached by a member of The Amaranth Wolves, and put his fighting career to the side to partake in something more fulfilling and…illegal.
Other: Deon has been with The Amaranth Wolves for over a year now and has quickly spread his name throughout New York as a deadly addition to the already merciless gang. He smokes cigarettes often and never passes up an opportunity to get drunk off his ass when his duties for the day have been met.
In case there was any doubt of his loyalty to The Wolves, Deon cauterized (scarification) his own representation of the gang's symbol to the opposite shoulder shown in the image above.
Name: Jillian Marie Valencia
Nickname(s): Jill the Ripper
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Gang: The Amaranth Wolves
Height: 162cm
Weight: 57kg
Appearance:
Personality: Jillian has an ISTP type personality, along with Antisocial Personality Disorder. Due to these two traits, she is usually seen as a loner, and can act coldly or even cruelly towards people around her, though she will still aid her comrades, if only because of the mentality of her gang. Because of her overconfidence, she often acts recklessly and comes off as cocky, though she very rarely lets down her guard, even around those considered to be her friends. In a fight, she starts calm, but her composure may begin to deteriorate as she loses herself in the heat of combat.
Short History: Jillian grew up in one of the more wealthy homes in Haven. She detested this life. At the age of ten, she murdered her family in their sleep with only a kitchen knife, then departed, taking nothing with her. Since then she has taken place in multiple gang related crimes and has joined up with the Amaranth Wolves, going by her alias Jill the Ripper, a nickname given due to her Victorian style outfits and her merciless killings.
Other: Jillian is an avid member of the steampunk subculture, and a bit of an idol within the underprivileged sections of the subculture. She is known for committing her crimes in full Victorian era clothing, and often photographing herself at the location of her crimes.
Nickname(s): Jill the Ripper
Gender: Female
Age: 18
Gang: The Amaranth Wolves
Height: 162cm
Weight: 57kg
Appearance:
Personality: Jillian has an ISTP type personality, along with Antisocial Personality Disorder. Due to these two traits, she is usually seen as a loner, and can act coldly or even cruelly towards people around her, though she will still aid her comrades, if only because of the mentality of her gang. Because of her overconfidence, she often acts recklessly and comes off as cocky, though she very rarely lets down her guard, even around those considered to be her friends. In a fight, she starts calm, but her composure may begin to deteriorate as she loses herself in the heat of combat.
Short History: Jillian grew up in one of the more wealthy homes in Haven. She detested this life. At the age of ten, she murdered her family in their sleep with only a kitchen knife, then departed, taking nothing with her. Since then she has taken place in multiple gang related crimes and has joined up with the Amaranth Wolves, going by her alias Jill the Ripper, a nickname given due to her Victorian style outfits and her merciless killings.
Other: Jillian is an avid member of the steampunk subculture, and a bit of an idol within the underprivileged sections of the subculture. She is known for committing her crimes in full Victorian era clothing, and often photographing herself at the location of her crimes.
Name: Logan Wellington
Nickname(s): Robot, Cash
Gender: Neither (Non-bindary/Agender, they feel they aren't either gender, but Logan goes by female pronouns)
Age: 16
Gang: The Amaranth Wolves
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 119lbs
Appearance:
Logan generally wears clothing that looked to be nice and new at once, but is now worn down by her work in the gang. She also wears combat boots all the time.
Personality: Logan is very pretentious about everything. She's still getting use to this whole gang thing. She's willing to kill, but you gotta buy her loyalty. She trust nobody in the gang. It's all for the money she gets out of it, not some bad blood. She is afraid she'll get too involved and sucked into the real violence. Who knows what she might get into?
Short History: Logan was born into a very rich and influential family in New York. Her father owned stocks and her mother was the mayor. She was a pampered little brat; she had never worked a day in her life. Her hands were smooth and her fingernails were clean back then. Then when her father went bankrupt and her mother was assassinated, she had to lift her own weight. They lost the large mansion, the servants. She even had to drop out of her torturing sessions, for they had no money to pay the teacher. She put her father in a homeless shelter and promised him she would bring back the good old days and fortune. She cut her hair and changed her name from Lila to Logan the day she joined the gang.
Other: She's an aromantic asexual agender (aromantic means no romantic attraction, asexual means little to no sexual attraction, and she feels that she has no gender but she still goes by female pronouns), so people call her Robot because of that. They call her cash because they know she once had money.
Nickname(s): Robot, Cash
Gender: Neither (Non-bindary/Agender, they feel they aren't either gender, but Logan goes by female pronouns)
Age: 16
Gang: The Amaranth Wolves
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 119lbs
Appearance:
Logan generally wears clothing that looked to be nice and new at once, but is now worn down by her work in the gang. She also wears combat boots all the time.
Personality: Logan is very pretentious about everything. She's still getting use to this whole gang thing. She's willing to kill, but you gotta buy her loyalty. She trust nobody in the gang. It's all for the money she gets out of it, not some bad blood. She is afraid she'll get too involved and sucked into the real violence. Who knows what she might get into?
Short History: Logan was born into a very rich and influential family in New York. Her father owned stocks and her mother was the mayor. She was a pampered little brat; she had never worked a day in her life. Her hands were smooth and her fingernails were clean back then. Then when her father went bankrupt and her mother was assassinated, she had to lift her own weight. They lost the large mansion, the servants. She even had to drop out of her torturing sessions, for they had no money to pay the teacher. She put her father in a homeless shelter and promised him she would bring back the good old days and fortune. She cut her hair and changed her name from Lila to Logan the day she joined the gang.
Other: She's an aromantic asexual agender (aromantic means no romantic attraction, asexual means little to no sexual attraction, and she feels that she has no gender but she still goes by female pronouns), so people call her Robot because of that. They call her cash because they know she once had money.
Name: Atticus Hector Deschain
Nickname(s): None anymore. 'Atty' by his little sister.
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Gang: The Amaranth Wolves
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 156 lbs
Appearance:
Personality:
Atticus is a quiet and reserved teenager who likes to smoke Tower Cigarettes, organically grown and with more tobacco than standard smokes. He is genuinely kind-natured and empathic, leading some to question why he would run with a gang as vicious as the Amaranth Wolves. He found companionship with them after his methods were deemed ‘too brutal’ by the Lost Ones. Though he has only recently joined up with them, his loyalty to the pack is near iron. He will give everything for the Wolves, but he demands the same in return of his companions.
While Atticus is generally kind and caring, it is during situations of high stress such as combat that he seems to melt into a husk of a person. His eyes seem to both glaze over and see everything at once. He seems to have no passion, no emotion, nothing but a cold blank stare. His actions can be merciless and swift in this state, moving nearly as a blur. Many have learned to fear him when he is ‘focused’.
Atticus is slow to trust others, as he has been alone for most of his life.
Other:
Atticus has killed two people so far, one being a Lost One, and the other being a cop. For as long as Atticus could remember, he had taken care of his little sister Lilly in their alleyway home. Yet one day, after he had been kicked from the Lost Ones for his ways, his sister was hungry and had no food, so Atticus decided to mug the first person to come through the alley with his knife. It happened to be a Lost One, and they got in a fight. A cop found them and broke it up, attempting to take both of them back to the station. Yet Atticus was able to stab the cop repeatedly, killing him.
Then he took the cops pistol and shot the handcuffed Lost One, placing the knife on the corpse’s body. He threw the gun back to the police officers corpse and fled, arranging the scene so it looked they killed each other. He saw more police arrive, and take away his sister to be put into foster care. Though Atticus doesn’t wish to admit this, these memories haunt him.
Nickname(s): None anymore. 'Atty' by his little sister.
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Gang: The Amaranth Wolves
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 156 lbs
Appearance:
Personality:
Atticus is a quiet and reserved teenager who likes to smoke Tower Cigarettes, organically grown and with more tobacco than standard smokes. He is genuinely kind-natured and empathic, leading some to question why he would run with a gang as vicious as the Amaranth Wolves. He found companionship with them after his methods were deemed ‘too brutal’ by the Lost Ones. Though he has only recently joined up with them, his loyalty to the pack is near iron. He will give everything for the Wolves, but he demands the same in return of his companions.
While Atticus is generally kind and caring, it is during situations of high stress such as combat that he seems to melt into a husk of a person. His eyes seem to both glaze over and see everything at once. He seems to have no passion, no emotion, nothing but a cold blank stare. His actions can be merciless and swift in this state, moving nearly as a blur. Many have learned to fear him when he is ‘focused’.
Atticus is slow to trust others, as he has been alone for most of his life.
Other:
Atticus has killed two people so far, one being a Lost One, and the other being a cop. For as long as Atticus could remember, he had taken care of his little sister Lilly in their alleyway home. Yet one day, after he had been kicked from the Lost Ones for his ways, his sister was hungry and had no food, so Atticus decided to mug the first person to come through the alley with his knife. It happened to be a Lost One, and they got in a fight. A cop found them and broke it up, attempting to take both of them back to the station. Yet Atticus was able to stab the cop repeatedly, killing him.
Then he took the cops pistol and shot the handcuffed Lost One, placing the knife on the corpse’s body. He threw the gun back to the police officers corpse and fled, arranging the scene so it looked they killed each other. He saw more police arrive, and take away his sister to be put into foster care. Though Atticus doesn’t wish to admit this, these memories haunt him.
Name: Victor Sageas
Nickname: Metal
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Gang: The Amaranth Wolves
Height: 6ft
Weight: 120lbs (130lbs with his robotic arm on)
Appearance:
His right arm.
Personality: He's a killer, with little regard for the lives of the gangs enemies. He is extreme in all things he does, those he loves he loves without falter, those he hates he hates with a passion, and he has no problem stomping in the skull of anyone who disrespects his leader and his brothers.
Short History: He was born to an alcholic father who was an enforcer for the Amaranth Wolves, with the drinking came beatings, with beatings came a disenchantment with the reality of the real world. Vic knew they were poor, he knew his mother was in the ground, he was never told how she died but from his fathers words when drunk he figured it had to do with him, he knew his dad was on a warpath with the Wolves but he couldnt help but continue to be a bad kid. He would steal, he would get into knife fights, he would beat kids senseless, he had a reputation for being a cold bastard by the time he was 13. He wasnt top shit but he wasnt anywhere near the bottom, his only real problem in life was his father. The bastard beat him, he slapped him around, and one day his father attacked him in the kitchen. He grabbed Victor's necklength hair and pulled him back slamming him to the floor, Victor had tried to crawl away but his father flipped him over and sat on his chest. He felt the pressure on his ribs, his diaphragm was being crushed as his father slammed his fists into his face.
As Victor grasped for breath he tried to push his father off his chest but couldnt, and his hand's slipped across his fathers stomach. He felt his thumb catch the grip of his fathers pistol, he saw his opportunity and everything his father had ever done was imprinted in his brain. He remembered the beatings, the drinking, being blamed for his mother, the frustration when trying not to end his father's life before. But this time he let himself slip, he grabbed the pistol in his right hand and pulled it from his fathers belt line. His father froze raising a bloody fist, he looked down at his son's hands and saw the pistol's barrel resting against his stomach. Victor looked up at his father and squeezed the trigger, the bang was first then a small splatter of blood. His father retracted and tumbled to the side, Victor stood and wiped his mouth and nose with his arm, he looked down at his bloody hand. He saw his father crawling away and spit at him, blood and saliva hit his fathers face as he propped himself up in the corner of the kitchen. He raised the pistol and aimed directly at his father's face, he fired once and watched the bullet tear through his fathers forehead and blood splatter against the white cabinet door behind him as his body let out one final shiver. He threw the pistol aside and walked over to his father, he raised his left leg and began pounding his boot heel into his fathers skull.
"Bastard," He said with a kick, "Drunkard! Piece of Garbage! How dare you! You dont deserve the power you have! You dont deserve the Amaranth Wolves!"
He kept on until he heard sirens, he wiped tears from his eyes and grabbed the keys. He sprinted out, he threw open the door to the garage and started up his father's muscle car. It was from 2010, a Dodge Charger. He shoved the keys into the ignition and turned it, he sped off out of the driveway and into the street. He continued down the road his foot firmly planted on the gas, he knew he wasnt going to dare touch the brake until he couldn't hear any kind of noise. He looked down at the radio and fiddled with its controls till he found a suitable station, it was playing some old rock the heavy stuff like he liked. He gripped the wheel and looked up, he saw he was heading to an intersection, at the next intersection sat a police roadblock. He grimaced and sped onward, he had come across the first intersection and saw blinding light speeding towards him, he barely had time to make the first syllable of the word 'Shit' before the impact hit him. The right car door was brought to him through the force of impact, he felt himself being crushed then he felt inertia as the car was overturned onto its side, he felt metal pierce his shoulder and reach into his right side. He would have screamed in pain but couldn't manage to get a breath out. He felt his hunk of scrap metal stop being pushed but it still moved, he felt it slowing and decided to open his eyes. He looked into the shattered windshield and couldnt even see the cops anymore, he saw residential houses and that the front of the car had been bent into almost nothing. He felt his own blood run across his chest and looked down, his right arm had metal running through it, nothing remained of it, just torn fragments of bone and flesh and metal. He saw blackness cloud his vision as he drifted into unconsciousness.
When Victor awake he was in a bright room, with white walls, white sheets, and medical monitors next to him. He tried to raise himself up but felt his left wrist had something keeping him down, he looked down and saw a set of handcuffs had him stuck to the bed, he tried to reach across with his right arm and didnt see it move across his to it. He looked down at his right side and saw nothing there, he stared for a moment and saw a sleeve pinned to the top of his shirt shoulder. He sat there and looked forward, he heard footsteps coming into the room. He looked up to see a nurse, she was rather pretty, busty with fair skin and a nice smile. He watched her as she came to bed side, she put her hand on his right shoulder and smiled down at him.
"How are you feeling?" She asked genuinely, "I know it cant be easy to deal with but you'll get used to it. Most amputee's prefer robotic arms as opposed to nothing, we have one lined up for you."
Victor didnt say anything, but he just stared at her. She knew he had nothing to say, what could he say, he had lost his arm, he didnt have anyone to give a damn either. His old man was probably in the coroner's office, being examined. He just couldnt say anything so he stared, she understood. She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, she whispered in his ear.
"You chose to hunt, and you will be rewarded." She said into his ear, "We will be here for you when you get out."
He smiled and watched as she walked away, he knew he would be okay when he got out of prison. He knew what would fill his time, getting ready for The Amaranth Wolves to use him as a tool, for him to be one of them and serve. He spent 3 years and 6 months in Federal Prison, when he got out he was initiated into the Amaranth Wolves and soon became a well known soldier among his brothers and sisters.
Other: He parties hard. His arm doesnt function as though it is that much stronger than a humans, it is barely a handicap whether it is on or off.
Nickname: Metal
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Gang: The Amaranth Wolves
Height: 6ft
Weight: 120lbs (130lbs with his robotic arm on)
Appearance:
His right arm.
Personality: He's a killer, with little regard for the lives of the gangs enemies. He is extreme in all things he does, those he loves he loves without falter, those he hates he hates with a passion, and he has no problem stomping in the skull of anyone who disrespects his leader and his brothers.
Short History: He was born to an alcholic father who was an enforcer for the Amaranth Wolves, with the drinking came beatings, with beatings came a disenchantment with the reality of the real world. Vic knew they were poor, he knew his mother was in the ground, he was never told how she died but from his fathers words when drunk he figured it had to do with him, he knew his dad was on a warpath with the Wolves but he couldnt help but continue to be a bad kid. He would steal, he would get into knife fights, he would beat kids senseless, he had a reputation for being a cold bastard by the time he was 13. He wasnt top shit but he wasnt anywhere near the bottom, his only real problem in life was his father. The bastard beat him, he slapped him around, and one day his father attacked him in the kitchen. He grabbed Victor's necklength hair and pulled him back slamming him to the floor, Victor had tried to crawl away but his father flipped him over and sat on his chest. He felt the pressure on his ribs, his diaphragm was being crushed as his father slammed his fists into his face.
As Victor grasped for breath he tried to push his father off his chest but couldnt, and his hand's slipped across his fathers stomach. He felt his thumb catch the grip of his fathers pistol, he saw his opportunity and everything his father had ever done was imprinted in his brain. He remembered the beatings, the drinking, being blamed for his mother, the frustration when trying not to end his father's life before. But this time he let himself slip, he grabbed the pistol in his right hand and pulled it from his fathers belt line. His father froze raising a bloody fist, he looked down at his son's hands and saw the pistol's barrel resting against his stomach. Victor looked up at his father and squeezed the trigger, the bang was first then a small splatter of blood. His father retracted and tumbled to the side, Victor stood and wiped his mouth and nose with his arm, he looked down at his bloody hand. He saw his father crawling away and spit at him, blood and saliva hit his fathers face as he propped himself up in the corner of the kitchen. He raised the pistol and aimed directly at his father's face, he fired once and watched the bullet tear through his fathers forehead and blood splatter against the white cabinet door behind him as his body let out one final shiver. He threw the pistol aside and walked over to his father, he raised his left leg and began pounding his boot heel into his fathers skull.
"Bastard," He said with a kick, "Drunkard! Piece of Garbage! How dare you! You dont deserve the power you have! You dont deserve the Amaranth Wolves!"
He kept on until he heard sirens, he wiped tears from his eyes and grabbed the keys. He sprinted out, he threw open the door to the garage and started up his father's muscle car. It was from 2010, a Dodge Charger. He shoved the keys into the ignition and turned it, he sped off out of the driveway and into the street. He continued down the road his foot firmly planted on the gas, he knew he wasnt going to dare touch the brake until he couldn't hear any kind of noise. He looked down at the radio and fiddled with its controls till he found a suitable station, it was playing some old rock the heavy stuff like he liked. He gripped the wheel and looked up, he saw he was heading to an intersection, at the next intersection sat a police roadblock. He grimaced and sped onward, he had come across the first intersection and saw blinding light speeding towards him, he barely had time to make the first syllable of the word 'Shit' before the impact hit him. The right car door was brought to him through the force of impact, he felt himself being crushed then he felt inertia as the car was overturned onto its side, he felt metal pierce his shoulder and reach into his right side. He would have screamed in pain but couldn't manage to get a breath out. He felt his hunk of scrap metal stop being pushed but it still moved, he felt it slowing and decided to open his eyes. He looked into the shattered windshield and couldnt even see the cops anymore, he saw residential houses and that the front of the car had been bent into almost nothing. He felt his own blood run across his chest and looked down, his right arm had metal running through it, nothing remained of it, just torn fragments of bone and flesh and metal. He saw blackness cloud his vision as he drifted into unconsciousness.
When Victor awake he was in a bright room, with white walls, white sheets, and medical monitors next to him. He tried to raise himself up but felt his left wrist had something keeping him down, he looked down and saw a set of handcuffs had him stuck to the bed, he tried to reach across with his right arm and didnt see it move across his to it. He looked down at his right side and saw nothing there, he stared for a moment and saw a sleeve pinned to the top of his shirt shoulder. He sat there and looked forward, he heard footsteps coming into the room. He looked up to see a nurse, she was rather pretty, busty with fair skin and a nice smile. He watched her as she came to bed side, she put her hand on his right shoulder and smiled down at him.
"How are you feeling?" She asked genuinely, "I know it cant be easy to deal with but you'll get used to it. Most amputee's prefer robotic arms as opposed to nothing, we have one lined up for you."
Victor didnt say anything, but he just stared at her. She knew he had nothing to say, what could he say, he had lost his arm, he didnt have anyone to give a damn either. His old man was probably in the coroner's office, being examined. He just couldnt say anything so he stared, she understood. She leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, she whispered in his ear.
"You chose to hunt, and you will be rewarded." She said into his ear, "We will be here for you when you get out."
He smiled and watched as she walked away, he knew he would be okay when he got out of prison. He knew what would fill his time, getting ready for The Amaranth Wolves to use him as a tool, for him to be one of them and serve. He spent 3 years and 6 months in Federal Prison, when he got out he was initiated into the Amaranth Wolves and soon became a well known soldier among his brothers and sisters.
Other: He parties hard. His arm doesnt function as though it is that much stronger than a humans, it is barely a handicap whether it is on or off.
Character Sheet Skeleton:
Name: (First name, last name. Middle optional)
Nickname(s): (Optional.)
Gender: (Male/Female)
Age: (15-19)
Gang: (Subject to change if necessary. [See rules])
Height: (Whatever units you’re comfortable in.)
Weight: (Pounds, kilograms, whatever is good.)
Appearance: (Attach a picture [real-life, no anime please!]. Alternatively, you may give a detailed written description of your character. Also, keep in mind that if you’re attaching a picture, you can include anything else you feel we should know about the character physically, like what they typically wear or you can include features not shown in the picture.)
Personality: (Doesn’t need to be too fancy. Just give us some character traits.)
Short History: (What happened to your character prior to joining a gang? What was their life like? Remember: this is taking place after an economic crisis, you’re allowed to have some cliché bits.)
Other: (Anything else we should know?)
That’s it! Have fun and don’t be a jackass! :D
