Biscuits

Fallout: Under Silver Skies [Closed]

Great posts both of you, me and stitches will have a reply up either tonight or tomorrow as the four make their way!

Fallout: Under Silver Skies [Closed]

Me and Stitches waiting on Dallen to post, unless something happens with Anneliese

Fallout: Under Silver Skies [Closed]

Hmm. Well just like in the game, I was basing off what you can and cant sneak into the casinos depending on your characters sneak. Abigail for example has switch-blade/knuckleduster hidden on her since she's more proficient at it. Brooks on the other hand can't hide his weaponry for shit.

Besides, Abigail and Brooks are pretty much nobodies in New Reno, and no one in their right mind would let people they've never seen or heard of before waltz around in their casinos packed with rifles and shotguns.

Fallout: Under Silver Skies [Closed]

Brooks wasn’t eager to stay stood out in the open after the sound of gunshots so close. With a flinch he’d turn to ensure Abigail had made her way to hide, something he always hoped she’d do when shit hit the fan.
As the three head honchos along with their plethora of goons came barging into the bar Brooks was already hauling ass over the counter, pressing himself against its woodwork as the bullets started hailing above. Aside from the low, almost annoyed sounding, grunts emitting at the ever so close whizzing bullet, Brooks remained as calm as possible. This hadn’t been the first time he got entwined in another man's shoot-out, clearly.

Taking in deep, heavy breaths from his nose, all Brooks could hear for the moment was yelling and screaming, bullets breaking bottles and embedding themselves into the concrete walls, and the splatter accompanied by the barkeepers body going limp onto the counter.
As the ginger voiced out, Brooks could do nothing but shoot the man a clearly unimpressed scowl, “How many of them-” he stopped mid sentence due to the all too familiar sound of a grenade pinging against the wall and bouncing down between the three tucked behind the counter. Brooks, not wasting a second, reached out for the grenade and tossed it right back over like a game of hot potato, only a lot more deadlier.

“We stay squatting back here any longer and we’re -done- for.” he’d bark out, his adrenaline starting to rise along with his voice as he slowly came to the realization that the grenade could have just killed all three of them, however he managed to keep his composure.

Fallout: Under Silver Skies [Closed]

Brooks Moreland

Name/Nicknames: Brooks Moreland

Age: 43

Gender: Male

Appearance:

Brooks stands at around 5’10 with a stocky figure and a rotund belly. His hair is a darkish brown, but the roots are starting to shine silver with age. His face is lined with age and darkened with a layer of grime and dirt; from behind his dark, bushy brows Brooks’ brown eyes are usually squinted against the harsh sunlight, and a short greying beard does little to hide the habitual scowl on his face.

His choice of outfit tends to be a sweat-stained, loose-fitting shirt rolled up at the elbows and a pair of coarse cargo pants, the pockets filled with essentials - bullets, shotgun shells, caps. His belt has been modified with a hard leather harness to hold a small bible at his hip. His guns clatter by his side and he has a couple of satchels slung over his shoulders. Resting on his breastbone is a tarnished silver chain with a small Christian cross dangling from it. At night, he wears a dusty grey trench coat to keep warm.

Race: Human

Strengths:

- Endurance: Years of helping strangers and local towns has granted Brooks the gift of stamina and physical toughness. From plowing seeds to helping maintain make-shift pastures, Brooks is accustomed to working under the scalding sun and cool nights.

- Perception: Travelling alone has sculpted Brooks’ senses into a heightened state. Improving his ability to see, hear, and notice things other people would not.

- Intelligence: A daily dosage of the worn out and torn bible he carries with him allowed Brooks to become a well read man, the books contents offering him knowledge, wisdom and the ability to think quickly.

Weaknesses:

- Stubborn: Years of arguing his way out of fights and travelling alone has made it very difficult to get Brooks to change his mind once he’s got a set idea in his head. In his little world, his word is law; you’d need a small miracle to work around whatever goal he’s set off to achieve.

- Judgemental: For Brooks, first impressions really are everything. He takes you at face value and if he doesn’t like what he sees, you’ll have a damn hard time trying to work your way out of his assumptions.

- Rude: There’s a reason Brooks travels alone. His brutal honesty and tendency to make snide remarks has hardly made him a particularly amicable person, and he shows no shame in speaking his mind.

Personality:

Open

Brooks is practical. A realistic attitude has allowed him to be able to expect the worst and avoid nasty surprises; he rarely sees the good in people. His firm, cold demeanour emanates authority, but his respect needs to be earned through actions before he can trust you. He adheres to a loose moral code due to his belief in Christianity whilst understanding that sometimes the only way to survive is to fight dirty. This doesn’t stop him from reading and quoting the bible on a regular basis, however. He’s stubborn, narrow-minded and quick to make assumptions of people based on their appearance. Fortunately, Brooks is also very self-sufficient, and can go for long voyages on his own if need be.

Hidden behind his cold and hostile exterior is a bit of a soft side. A family man at heart, Brooks is steadfastly loyal and protective over those who he truly cares about. It would take a long time to be able to reach this level of intimacy with Brooks these days however as his past has made him very guarded and secretive, unwilling to divulge in his personal affairs.

Skills/Attributes:

- Hunter: Hunting wasteland wildlife and feral monsters has blessed Brooks with the knowledge and skill to proficiently wield a rifle against a broad variation of creatures. Repeated exposure to dangerous creatures has allowed Brooks to figure and adapt to their individual weak-points.

- Tracking: By examining his environment Brooks can distinguish varying tracks from one another, allowing him to not only be efficient in cking:tracking animals, but also clue him in on people’s location.

- Barter: When travelling solo, every cap counts. Brooks is determined to get the best deals out of any situation, so he is exceptionally good at negotiation and deal-making.

Back-story:

Open

Brooks was born in a less than ideal area near Salt Lake City in the state of Utah to a less than ideal dad. With the streets running rampant with crime, his future looked bleak. In a time of need people throughout history tended to turn to a beacon of hope, something that shone with promises of salvation; for Brooks and his mother that beacon was the christian faith. With nothing more than the shirt on his back, the love of his mother, and the bible tucked under his pillow, Brooks endured.

Being forced to pitch in to contributing to the family funds at an early age, Brooks set out to help the locals with as many mediocre tasks as possible. One task lead to another, and once he was of age to properly wield and use a weapon, the odd-job tasks turned into clearing out critters or chasing down packs of predators stirring trouble to local pastures and crops. Eventually, after realising how proficient he had become, Brooks expanded his horizon in regards to what he could do. He left town more than occasionally to hunt creatures for trophies and caps, or track wanted outlaws dwelling nearby.

The years passed on and Brooks’ mother eventually succumbed to the harsh death of radiation poisoning. After having suffered through turbulent experiences along with her son, the poverty, the abuse, the heartache, it had all become too much for her to bear on top of the painfully slow death she was facing. This would mark one of the lowest points Brooks had to endure during his adult life. Not knowing how to cope and without his mother's presence, he felt the grasp that religion had on him slip. After she died Brooks turned to the one thing his father had taught him, the bottle. The next years in Brooks’ life wasted away as he consumed drink after drink, all until he went through an especially difficult week of binging alcohol, realizing his self destructive path.

When it dawned upon him that his home had nothing besides bad memories left for him, Brooks did the best thing he could; he said his farewells, packed his belongings, and began to walk into a direction that would hopefully offer him some purpose. After being alone on the the road for nearly twenty years, some small act of fate caused him to cross paths with a young, malnourished girl. He watched from the entrance of an alley as three thugs came rushing out with the aforementioned girl huddled up defensively in its far corner. Scowling, he confronted the girl, only to be told that her belongings had been stolen by the three goons. Not thinking much about what trouble he might stir up, he chased the three men down to confront them. One harsh remark lead to another, and the situation took a turn for the worse as he shot all three of them in the alley. Brooks returned the items that were reportedly stolen back to the girl, and lent her a helping hand. The small favour was enough to have her trailing after him for weeks; eventually they had travelled too far for the kid to return home, and Brooks reluctantly let her stay. They have been travelling the Wastelands together for several years, living off bounties and mercenary work alongside Brooks’ hunting skills and deal-brokering.

Fallout: Under Silver Skies [Closed]

@Kingfisher I'm awful with appearance descriptions, I just put that there as a placeholder and forgot to remove it. I've added something to it, thank you for accepting me

Fallout: Under Silver Skies [Closed]

Gonna put this right here~

CS

Name/Nicknames: Brooks Moreland

Age: 43

Gender: Male

Appearance:

Brooks stands at around 5’10 with a stocky figure and a rotund belly. His hair is a darkish brown, but the roots are starting to shine silver with age. His face is lined with age and darkened with a layer of grime and dirt; from behind his dark, bushy brows Brooks’ brown eyes are usually squinted against the harsh sunlight, and a short greying beard does little to hide the habitual scowl on his face.

His choice of outfit tends to be a sweat-stained, loose-fitting shirt rolled up at the elbows and a pair of coarse cargo pants, the pockets filled with essentials - bullets, shotgun shells, caps. His belt has been modified with a hard leather harness to hold a small bible at his hip. His guns clatter by his side and he has a couple of satchels slung over his shoulders. Resting on his breastbone is a tarnished silver chain with a small Christian cross dangling from it. At night, he wears a dusty grey trench coat to keep warm.

Race: Human

Strengths:

- Endurance: Years of helping strangers and local towns has granted Brooks the gift of stamina and physical toughness. From plowing seeds to helping maintain make-shift pastures, Brooks is accustomed to working under the scalding sun and cool nights.

- Perception: Travelling alone has sculpted Brooks’ senses into a heightened state. Improving his ability to see, hear, and notice things other people would not.

- Intelligence: A daily dosage of the worn out and torn bible he carries with him allowed Brooks to become a well read man, the books contents offering him knowledge, wisdom and the ability to think quickly.

Weaknesses:

- Stubborn: Years of arguing his way out of fights and travelling alone has made it very difficult to get Brooks to change his mind once he’s got a set idea in his head. In his little world, his word is law; you’d need a small miracle to work around whatever goal he’s set off to achieve.

- Judgemental: For Brooks, first impressions really are everything. He takes you at face value and if he doesn’t like what he sees, you’ll have a damn hard time trying to work your way out of his assumptions.

- Rude: There’s a reason Brooks travels alone. His brutal honesty and tendency to make snide remarks has hardly made him a particularly amicable person, and he shows no shame in speaking his mind.

Personality:

Open

Brooks is practical. A realistic attitude has allowed him to be able to expect the worst and avoid nasty surprises; he rarely sees the good in people. His firm, cold demeanour emanates authority, but his respect needs to be earned through actions before he can trust you. He adheres to a loose moral code due to his belief in Christianity whilst understanding that sometimes the only way to survive is to fight dirty. This doesn’t stop him from reading and quoting the bible on a regular basis, however. He’s stubborn, narrow-minded and quick to make assumptions of people based on their appearance. Fortunately, Brooks is also very self-sufficient, and can go for long voyages on his own if need be.

Hidden behind his cold and hostile exterior is a bit of a soft side. A family man at heart, Brooks is steadfastly loyal and protective over those who he truly cares about. It would take a long time to be able to reach this level of intimacy with Brooks these days however as his past has made him very guarded and secretive, unwilling to divulge in his personal affairs.

Skills/Attributes:

- Hunter: Hunting wasteland wildlife and feral monsters has blessed Brooks with the knowledge and skill to proficiently wield a rifle against a broad variation of creatures. Repeated exposure to dangerous creatures has allowed Brooks to figure and adapt to their individual weak-points.

- Tracking: By examining his environment Brooks can distinguish varying tracks from one another, allowing him to not only be efficient in cking:tracking animals, but also clue him in on people’s location.

- Barter: When travelling solo, every cap counts. Brooks is determined to get the best deals out of any situation, so he is exceptionally good at negotiation and deal-making.

Back-story:

Open

Brooks was born in a less than ideal area near Salt Lake City in the state of Utah to a less than ideal dad. With the streets running rampant with crime, his future looked bleak. In a time of need people throughout history tended to turn to a beacon of hope, something that shone with promises of salvation; for Brooks and his mother that beacon was the christian faith. With nothing more than the shirt on his back, the love of his mother, and the bible tucked under his pillow, Brooks endured.

Being forced to pitch in to contributing to the family funds at an early age, Brooks set out to help the locals with as many mediocre tasks as possible. One task lead to another, and once he was of age to properly wield and use a weapon, the odd-job tasks turned into clearing out critters or chasing down packs of predators stirring trouble to local pastures and crops. Eventually, after realising how proficient he had become, Brooks expanded his horizon in regards to what he could do. He left town more than occasionally to hunt creatures for trophies and caps, or track wanted outlaws dwelling nearby.

The years passed on and Brooks’ mother eventually succumbed to the harsh death of radiation poisoning. After having suffered through turbulent experiences along with her son, the poverty, the abuse, the heartache, it had all become too much for her to bear on top of the painfully slow death she was facing. This would mark one of the lowest points Brooks had to endure during his adult life. Not knowing how to cope and without his mother's presence, he felt the grasp that religion had on him slip. After she died Brooks turned to the one thing his father had taught him, the bottle. The next years in Brooks’ life wasted away as he consumed drink after drink, all until he went through an especially difficult week of binging alcohol, realizing his self destructive path.

When it dawned upon him that his home had nothing besides bad memories left for him, Brooks did the best thing he could; he said his farewells, packed his belongings, and began to walk into a direction that would hopefully offer him some purpose. After being alone on the the road for nearly twenty years, some small act of fate caused him to cross paths with a young, malnourished girl. He watched from the entrance of an alley as three thugs came rushing out with the aforementioned girl huddled up defensively in its far corner. Scowling, he confronted the girl, only to be told that her belongings had been stolen by the three goons. Not thinking much about what trouble he might stir up, he chased the three men down to confront them. One harsh remark lead to another, and the situation took a turn for the worse as he shot all three of them in the alley. Brooks returned the items that were reportedly stolen back to the girl, and lent her a helping hand. The small favour was enough to have her trailing after him for weeks; eventually they had travelled too far for the kid to return home, and Brooks reluctantly let her stay. They have been travelling the Wastelands together for several years, living off bounties and mercenary work alongside Brooks’ hunting skills and deal-brokering.

The Unwanted. Superpowered RP with a hint of horror.

Brooks visage snapped at Eli’s direction, staring at the man with an angered look as he spouted the command to exit the truck. “Easy now, we don’t want no trouble. Pistol on my lap, gonna’ move it aside.” he announces loudly, not in the mood to give the Action Jackson up ahead a reason to get an itchy trigger. He slowly reaches down, grabbing his pistol by it’s muzzle, holding it out of the window and letting it drop onto the ground, a measly dust cloud rising on impact.

He wasn’t going to take any chances, especially without knowing what exactly Vin’s role in all of this. With Abigail by his side, he unwillingly obeyed. Opening the car from the outside, stepping out and raising his hands next to his head, “We don’t want no trouble, just some talk.” he announced at both Vin and Eli. He bore his teeth as he felt a slow tingle of fear creep up his spine; Abigail’s frantic and scared voice certainly did not help him keep his cool, he barely managed to maintain his scowling and angered expression. “Listen, we just wanna’ know what the hell you folk really doing here. Because as far as me n’ the girl are aware, this place is was supposed to be empty. Let’s just take it easy, yeah?”

The Unwanted. Superpowered RP with a hint of horror.

Brooks Ellerby

Name: Brook Ellerby
Gender: Male
Age: 48
Place of Birth: Buckhead
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Single
Occupation: “Restaurant Manager”

Power:
Shapeshifting.

Cost of powers use:
Not only is the transformation painful, Brook also retains some of the psychological traits of the animal he shapeshifted in for around an hour after changing back. Whilst shapeshifted his intelligence is hindered by his animal instinct, making it difficult to remain in control.

Appearance:
A stocky, slightly chubby male with greying hair and thick eyebrows. His dark brown eyes are deep-set and show the first faint age lines, slightly visible bags and creases. Although he is clean-shaven, he has a fair amount of dark body hair. In his prime, he used to wear clean shirts, blazers and overall expensive clothing; now he has been reduced to a flannel shirt and a pair of jeans. His usually immaculate appearance is starting to deteriorate; his hair is getting greasy and lank, the bags under his eyes are more pronounced and his clothes are disheveled. His distinctive lips are typically pursed into a solemn frown.

Skills:

Strategist: Able to plan things out, look at a map, organise and prepare for things. Able to measure people’s strengths and weaknesses up and place them in the best positions.

Realist: Able to make the hard choices for the benefit of the team. Not afraid of getting his hands dirty. Doesn’t make stupid sacrifices - knows when to run away.

Business: Makes deals and keeps networks of contacts, can always put a name to a face, knows how to get bargains/make compromises. Very good with finances. Knows when he’s being lied to, can smell a scam or a trap a mile off.

Personality:
Brooks is not like the stereotypical gang leader. He’s practical, looking after the people in his territory and winning them over so he can manipulate and exercise his control later on. His firm, cold demeanour emanates authority, but his respect needs to be earned through actions before he can trust you. A pessimistic attitude has allowed him to be able to expect the worst and avoid nasty surprises; he rarely sees the good in people, and understands that there is no moral code in life. This style of thinking has made Brooks very selfish and he will stoop to any level to protect himself.

Despite the cool and indiscernible exterior, Brooks is a very volatile and passionate person. A mothers-boy and a family man at heart, he is prepared to take on any challenge to protect those he truly cares for. His bouts of anger and violent unpredictability, though rarely directed at his precious group of friends, have nevertheless tarnished his reputation by making him intimidating. There are very few who know how to placate him, even fewer who would actually be able to pull it off.

History:

“I don’t wanna’ be a product of my own environment, I want my environment to be a product of me. Way back when we had the church, that was just another way of sayin’ we had each other. Twenty years later we got people scrounging for corners, and dyin’ over districts.
If I got one thing against ‘em it’s this - No one gives it to ya’, you have to take it.

Tin ‘n’ Lint. I spent many a childhood days here, my face pressed against the window along with the other kids staring at the South-end's biggest and meanest men... Stories of their very actions boggling and filling our childhood minds with dreams of one day becoming like them. Now these men were proper animals, they owned these streets. Our dead-beat fathers feared ‘em, our Mothers warned us to stay away from ‘em. You can imagine what kinda’ honor I felt when I was allowed to waiter for ‘em in there. Hearing about their latest busts, debts they racked in, who’s safe and who ain’t? It was only time till one of ‘em pulled me aside and told me to deliver a message to Tony from further down the block. Messages became packages. Packages became threats. Threats became reality. And -snap- I was locked on.

There used to be a lot of bars down here in the south end. Though only two mattered. We had the Tin n’ Lint, and Ray’s Happy Birthday Bar. The Tin ‘n’ Lint boys decided it’d be a good idea to spread their operations from street-corners to districts instead. Crisped Ray’s joint up proper.
Now whether that was a good idea or not is debated still to this date, because no one expected the holy crusade the cops would have pulled on the South-ends asses after a menial stung like that..
I’m talking busts, stings, undercovers, mass-arrests… the biggest baddest men in the south didn’t know what hit ‘em. Their castles o’ stone turned to cheese after the first wave of rats started gnawing and nibbling into pig’s ears.
As it turned out, the Tin n’ Lint crooks didn’t have as much fear over the people as they thought. People were all too eager to speak up against their “brutality” towards the common folk. They weren’t wrong either.

And then there was me. Fatherless, mother's-boy, me.
My idols turning out to be weaker than ever, junkies n’ crack addicts littering the streets?
There was one thing I decided to do. No one gives it you, you -take- it.
If there’s one thing that all southies are on board with, it’s religion.
Being a criminal is much like being a mayor or president, really.
With the people's support you’re -untouchable-.

Make the Elderly happy by knowing they won’t die alone.
Calm the mothers by watching over their kids.
Keep the fathers pleased with secure jobs.
Thanksgiving turkey is just a bonus.

You don’t just make sure your gangs happy, you make sure the people surrounding your gang are happy, -they’re- the real threat.
I own the Tin n’ Lint now. I also own this street and the one down there. Fuck, I own this whole district.”

- Brooks Ellerby to Abigail Harlow

The Unwanted. Superpowered RP with a hint of horror.

Brooks Ellerby

Name: Brook Ellerby
Gender: Male
Age: 48
Place of Birth: Buckhead
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Single
Occupation: “Restaurant Manager”

Power:
Shapeshifting.

Cost of powers use:
Not only is the transformation painful, Brook also retains some of the psychological traits of the animal he shapeshifted in for around an hour after changing back. Whilst shapeshifted his intelligence is hindered by his animal instinct, making it difficult to remain in control.

Appearance:
A stocky, slightly chubby male with greying hair and thick eyebrows. His dark brown eyes are deep-set and show the first faint age lines, slightly visible bags and creases. Although he is clean-shaven, he has a fair amount of dark body hair. In his prime, he used to wear clean shirts, blazers and overall expensive clothing; now he has been reduced to a flannel shirt and a pair of jeans. His usually immaculate appearance is starting to deteriorate; his hair is getting greasy and lank, the bags under his eyes are more pronounced and his clothes are disheveled. His distinctive lips are typically pursed into a solemn frown.

Skills:

Strategist: Able to plan things out, look at a map, organise and prepare for things. Able to measure people’s strengths and weaknesses up and place them in the best positions.

Realist: Able to make the hard choices for the benefit of the team. Not afraid of getting his hands dirty. Doesn’t make stupid sacrifices - knows when to run away.

Business: Makes deals and keeps networks of contacts, can always put a name to a face, knows how to get bargains/make compromises. Very good with finances. Knows when he’s being lied to, can smell a scam or a trap a mile off.

Personality:
Brooks is not like the stereotypical gang leader. He’s practical, looking after the people in his territory and winning them over so he can manipulate and exercise his control later on. His firm, cold demeanour emanates authority, but his respect needs to be earned through actions before he can trust you. A pessimistic attitude has allowed him to be able to expect the worst and avoid nasty surprises; he rarely sees the good in people, and understands that there is no moral code in life. This style of thinking has made Brooks very selfish and he will stoop to any level to protect himself.

Despite the cool and indiscernible exterior, Brooks is a very volatile and passionate person. A mothers-boy and a family man at heart, he is prepared to take on any challenge to protect those he truly cares for. His bouts of anger and violent unpredictability, though rarely directed at his precious group of friends, have nevertheless tarnished his reputation by making him intimidating. There are very few who know how to placate him, even fewer who would actually be able to pull it off.

History:

“I don’t wanna’ be a product of my own environment, I want my environment to be a product of me. Way back when we had the church, that was just another way of sayin’ we had each other. Twenty years later we got people scrounging for corners, and dyin’ over districts.
If I got one thing against ‘em it’s this - No one gives it to ya’, you have to take it.

Tin ‘n’ Lint. I spent many a childhood days here, my face pressed against the window along with the other kids staring at the South-end's biggest and meanest men... Stories of their very actions boggling and filling our childhood minds with dreams of one day becoming like them. Now these men were proper animals, they owned these streets. Our dead-beat fathers feared ‘em, our Mothers warned us to stay away from ‘em. You can imagine what kinda’ honor I felt when I was allowed to waiter for ‘em in there. Hearing about their latest busts, debts they racked in, who’s safe and who ain’t? It was only time till one of ‘em pulled me aside and told me to deliver a message to Tony from further down the block. Messages became packages. Packages became threats. Threats became reality. And -snap- I was locked on.

There used to be a lot of bars down here in the south end. Though only two mattered. We had the Tin n’ Lint, and Ray’s Happy Birthday Bar. The Tin ‘n’ Lint boys decided it’d be a good idea to spread their operations from street-corners to districts instead. Crisped Ray’s joint up proper.
Now whether that was a good idea or not is debated still to this date, because no one expected the holy crusade the cops would have pulled on the South-ends asses after a menial stung like that..
I’m talking busts, stings, undercovers, mass-arrests… the biggest baddest men in the south didn’t know what hit ‘em. Their castles o’ stone turned to cheese after the first wave of rats started gnawing and nibbling into pig’s ears.
As it turned out, the Tin n’ Lint crooks didn’t have as much fear over the people as they thought. People were all too eager to speak up against their “brutality” towards the common folk. They weren’t wrong either.

And then there was me. Fatherless, mother's-boy, me.
My idols turning out to be weaker than ever, junkies n’ crack addicts littering the streets?
There was one thing I decided to do. No one gives it you, you -take- it.
If there’s one thing that all southies are on board with, it’s religion.
Being a criminal is much like being a mayor or president, really.
With the people's support you’re -untouchable-.

Make the Elderly happy by knowing they won’t die alone.
Calm the mothers by watching over their kids.
Keep the fathers pleased with secure jobs.
Thanksgiving turkey is just a bonus.

You don’t just make sure your gangs happy, you make sure the people surrounding your gang are happy, -they’re- the real threat.
I own the Tin n’ Lint now. I also own this street and the one down there. Fuck, I own this whole district.”

- Brooks Ellerby to Abigail Harlow

Heya! I'm a friend of Stitches, my character being linked with hers. I just wanted to point out that i'm fairly new to forum roleplay, and completly open to any criticism to help improve my CS. I hope it's decent enough, and look forward to RPing with you all!