Blitz

Streets on Fire

This is Streets on Fire - a roleplay raised from the dead from over four years ago (right after the guild fall). Centered around two rival gangs in a broken New York-styled city, this story focuses on the themes of self-discovery, betrayal, revenge, confusion, depression and so much more. There may be a silver-lining in this desolate city, but don’t get your hope up. There’s a noose over there in the corner over there should you need it.

Background Information

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. Long story short, New York City has gone to shit.

The two rival gangs are not similar at all. They both stress different values and the two gang leaders have very different ideas as to how their gang should be run.

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 @YoshiSkittlez will be a member among the ranks of The Lost Ones, with another character for the Wolves. We will be co-GM’ing the thread. It would be ideal for both gangs to have an equal number of players, so please take that into consideration when it comes to creating your character. I will do my best to keep the roster updated so it’s easy to see who belongs to what gang.

Important territory information

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 (Blitz’s character) 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.
• For now, 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. Also, if there is a problem with numbers in general, the limit of characters and gang affiliation might be changed.
• Although it may be obvious, some themes will be present that not everyone may be comfortable with. This includes swearing, drugs, violence, and even the possibility of high-end 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 an advanced roleplay, so acceptable grammar and spelling is necessary. Believe me when I say, however, that I 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 - one of the original co-GM’s that sadly will not be joining us for the reboot)

The Gangs

The Lost Ones

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

Knox Callahan

Knox Callahan

Alias/Nickname(s):

Knox is fine.

Age:

18

Gender:

Male

Sexual Preference:

Thick, exotic ladies.

Appearance:

(Minus the tattoo from the picture.) Knox is shorter than average though lean and fairly strong. His long, blond hair is often covered either by a hood or a hat, and a cigarette or joint are never far from his lips or fingertips. He usually prefers jeans or sweatpants but he’s sometimes seen wearing shorts. Knox’s eyes are unique in that they never seem to be one color for more than a day. He claims to have blue eyes, while others around him insist they’re green, hazel, or even gray. Knox mostly thinks it’s a trick of the light, though.

Gang Affiliation:

Lost Ones.

Brief History:

Knox is not a New York native. He was born in the Midwest, in the city of Chicago. He was the son of a well-known business entrepreneur who was successful despite the economic collapse that devastated a large portion of the country. Like in New York, Chicago has its own “Haven,” and Knox grew up there. But there was something about it he detested. He hated the posh private school his parents made him attend. He hated his lack of freedom and inability to leave his neighborhood. He craved change and wanted to see what kind of world awaited him outside his gilded cage. The day before graduating high school, Knox stole a portion of his parents’ money and ran away from home, taking a fancy bullet train eastward toward New York. When he arrived in the Haven, he was appalled to see it was no different than Chicago. But once he ventured a bit more, he discovered the crippling poverty outside. It was scary and he was not used to it. Between the gunshots, drugs, and dead bodies he found, he was wondering if he had made the right decision. Soon, however, a member of the Lost Ones happened to find him and offered him refuge and respite for his loyalty.

However, his parents are still alive, and they could be searching for him.

Extras

• Theme: youtube.com/watch?v=EUvbrY_ec60
• Likes: Weed, alcohol, music, sleeping, lounging
• Dislikes: Blood, needles, affluence, arrogance
• Fears: Fear of blood and clowns. Not too happy with heights either.
• Hobbies: Smoke weed, visit bars, doing mild recon missions for the gang.
• Goals: “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

Leigh

Full Name

Calliope Samantha Livingston

Alias/Nickname(s):

Leigh

Age:

20

Gender:

Female

Sexual Preference:

No real preference.

Appearance:

Leigh has a lean frame. She is of average height for her age. She has a jagged, round scar just below her left collarbone from her infancy, and does not remember how she got it. Usually keeps her hair braided. Has her left ear cartilage pierced. Usually wears dark clothes.

Gang Affiliation:

Lost Ones

Brief History:

Calliope "Leigh" was born and raised in the slums to a single-mother who found life too hard to handle the burden, thus when her birth mother committed suicide just before Leigh's 6th birthday, she was fortunate enough to be found by Theodore Livingston - or so she thought at the time. Theodore, a young man at the time, was patient. He taught her how to survive in the slums, but he was in deep dept with a loan shark by the time she was twelve. When payment time came and he couldn't make it, he offered to sell Leigh. She fled, feeling betrayed, and began to keep to herself. By then, she knew which areas to avoid and how to survive, more or less. She met a Lost One, or rather, stumbled into a wounded one. With her help, the Lost One recovered and then led her into the fold. Still she struggles with not stealing after using it to survive for so long, but otherwise she agrees with the philosophy as her preference to keep to herself works for them. Since, she has worked for the Lost Ones for recon and runs between as she is lean, small, and agile.

Extras

• Theme: Pending...
• Likes: Fruit (a luxury?), classical stringed instruments, a strong breeze, high places
• Dislikes: Children in danger, cat-callers, a word/promise/deal broken
• Fears: Being trapped/confined
• Hobbies: Roof-jumping, exploring/scouting areas, playing violin (rare)
• Goals: Pending...

Hawk

Lamarcus Hawthorne

Alias/Nickname(s):

Hawk.

Age:

23.

Gender:

Male.

Sexual Preference:

Women.

Appearance:

He typically wears a long sleeve pullover hoodie, blue jeans and tan Timberland boots. He is tall, bordering on 6'5 but he is skinny, and his legs are long. He is lean and cut from his days of fighting and his persistent exercise routine.

Gang Affiliation:

The Lost Ones.

Brief History:

Lamarcus moved to New York when he was six years old from Inglewood, California on the whim of his father receiving a promotion. The company closed its doors not long after, however, and left the Hawthorne clan without direction. It was not long before his father fell into alcoholism and his mother abandoned the family for another man. Left with himself, two brothers and two sisters, Lamarcus took to the streets to provide for his people. It was during his escapades in the street where he first frequented free boxing gyms and met a trainer. From boxing, he took up Taekwondo, and for a short while he used his skills to fight amateur to provide for his family.

He never turned pro, though, and he soon lost the lust for fighting. With his earnings, he bought himself an apartment and moved his siblings to live with him; it was during this period that Lamarcus began to grow close with the Lost Ones who would help him pay rent in exchange for helping carry out protection and courier runs. Soon enough, he fell in completely and joined the gang fully. When called upon to defend his gang or his loved ones, he is a skilled hand-to-hand stand up combatant, and would be considered--in the lingo of his favorite cult classic, The Warriors-- “heavy muscle.” He is extremely loyal, to a fault.

Extras

• Theme: 2pac - Still I Rise
• Likes: His friends, his siblings, caring for others, women, dogs.
• Dislikes: Drugs, alcohol, betrayal, selfishness.
• Fears: Suicide, death, drugs, birds.
• Hobbies: Drawing, exercise.
• Goals:

Scarlett

Scarlett Blair Aoife Beckett

Alias/Nickname(s):

Mary Poppins, the queen of england, limey, Big Lettie, fat ass

Age:

21

Gender:

Female

Sexual Preference:

Furoiusly bi-sexual

Appearance:

Scarlett Blair is a large young woman, with a huge frame, and protruding belly. Whilst she is most notably fat, Scarlett also possess a decent amount of muscle, allowing her to really throw a punch. She has lavish red hair, pleasant features, and a silver piercing in her right nostril.

Gang Affiliation:

The Lost Ones

Brief History:

Hailing from Staffordshire, England, Scarlett’s family upped and moved to New York during her early teens, when her father’s job demanded that he relocate to the Big Apple. Scarlett had a relatively uneventful upbringing, up until the moment her mother was diagnosed with breast cancer, which proved to be terminal. After her mother’s death, Scarlett’s relationship with her father became increasingly strained, which reached its climax when her dad kicked Scarlett out of their home, after he caught her in bed with another woman.

Scarlett found work in a trashy fast food joint, cohabiting in the flats above with some of the other workers. One of Scarlett’s flatmates, a girl called Khloe, became fast friends with her, which eventually lead to Scarlett discovering that Khloe had been making money on the side, working as an escort. When an angry client came round to the apartment to attack Khloe, Scarlett put her rather considerable bulk and strength to good use; kicking the scumbag out on his arse, and defending her friend in the process.

This caught the attention of some of Khloe’s other friends, who just so happened to be members of the Lost Ones. From then on, Scarlett fell in with the gang, and has since developed herself something of an infamous love/hate reputation, due in part to her larger-than-life personality, and fierce attitude.

Extras

• Theme: Half god/ Half devil
• Likes: Dressing up, movies, delicious food, cigarettes, booze.
• Dislikes: Being out-smarted, pretension, those who exaggerate.
• Fears: Poverty.
• Hobbies: Partying, sex, trips to the cinema, drinking in the park.
• Goals: Wealth, above all else.

The Amaranth Wolves

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

Angel McBride

Angel Cecelia McBride

Another picture

Alias/Nickname(s):

Wolf Princess

Age:

Twenty-one

Gender:

Female

Sexual Preference:

Let’s just say she’s mostly straight.

Appearance:

She's a tall, lithe, and quite beautiful blonde woman. It is an appearance which is perfect for deception, as many take her attractiveness as an indication of vulnerability and weakness, though this is simply not the case. She has a cold gaze that warms up for only a select few. Her smile is also rarely seen, though beautiful. Her least favorite feature about herself is that her hands are mildly calloused from climbing buildings and bruised or scarred from a few fistfights she has gotten into. Angel's attire varies greatly depending on the situation she is in. Casually, she wears whatever is comfortable; that could be a T-shirt and jeans or a tank top and shorts, or a sweater and pants. If she is going out, whether on a mission or for drinks, she may dress more scantily to show off her treasure of a body, including her long legs and distracting bust. Even though she is a gang leader and sometimes her living accommodations in the city are meager, she takes quite good care of herself, though she tries not to do so to a fault. Even if the pipes freeze over in the winter and there is no water, no new clothes, no comb for her hair, she will still walk with a proud and confident swagger that can intimidate many a male.

Gang Affiliation:

Amaranth Wolves (leader)

Brief History:

Angel has been a member of the Wolves for her whole life, literally. It began during the era of a previous leader of the wolves, Hayden. He was only sixteen, and the gang was still in its burgeoning stages. One hot summer day, a baby mysteriously appeared outside the gang's hideout in Amaranth. The baby was wrapped in blankets and left inside an old cardboard box, with no indication of where she had come from, except for a note with "Angel Cecelia McBride" scrawled on it inside the box as well. Upon discovering the infant, Hayden was both shocked and ashamed that someone could abandon their child, though he knew times were tough. The other gang members felt uneasy about it, but Hayden felt he had no other choice but to take her in. And so, this baby, was raised by gangsters. She grew up in a life of turmoil and hardships, learning that deceit and violence were the key to survival. Luckily, Hayden was one of the few educated people left in the country, and instilled more than just street knowledge into Angel. This included literacy, and from books, Angel learned to actually feel some semblance of empathy and compassion. Nevertheless, cynicism quickly got its claws into her, as she saw many of the people who raised her die, including Hayden. He died not in battle but of a never-before-seen incurable illness that no one could identify. He was twenty-six when this happened, and Angel was only ten years old.

A member named Titus was elected among the group members as the next leader, an eighteen year old. Under Titus, the Wolves acquired a great deal of territory in Amaranth and secured a myriad of weapons and resources. At the age of twenty-six, when Angel was eighteen, Titus was shot and killed by a police officer during a planned raid of a storage house in the Haven. After this, the age of twenty-six was deemed as a curse among the Wolves, at least for its leaders. Titus’s death came with bad timing, as the cops soon raided a key hideout of the Wolves and the gang fell into disarray. The remaining members decided they still had to elect another leader. Another young member, one with a strong devotion to the gang—Angel. Although the gang experienced a small period of turmoil and loss in numbers after Titus's death, Angel did her best to stabilize the chaos. Her gang members trust in her, though her progress is slow and gradual. Despite the exclusivity of her gang, she found it crucial to expand their numbers again once their survival was ensured if they wished to not be snuffed out by the police or the Lost Ones.

Extras

• Theme: youtube.com/watch?v=RFNPUJD6KKA
• Likes: Alcohol, money, guns, a good brawl, animals, parkour, playing with her prey, bravery
• Dislikes: Spicy food, insubordination, dishonesty, weakness
• Fears: Death above all
• Hobbies: Taking walks alone, going to bars, pickpocketting, hustling others
• Goals: I'mma leave this blank.

Deon "Big Dog" Saunders

Deon Desmond Saunders

Alias/Nickname(s):

Big Dog, D, Big D, "OhDeonOhDeonOhDeonOhmygod!"

Age:

Twenty-four.

Gender:

"110% male, baby!"

Sexual Preference:

Heterosexual/straight "No fat chicks."

Appearance:

Though only 5'9" tall, Deon's makes up for his shorter stature by his one-hundred and eighty-five pounds of pure muscle, making him not only physically intimidating, but also powerful. A scar from the top-left, back portion of his head splits all the way down to his left eyebrow keeps Deon shaving the sides of his head since 1) hair refuses to grow around that area anyway and 2) the look makes him feel more bad ass. His skin, while tanned, holds a sort of dark pigmentation that still identifies him Caucasian, though perhaps a bit sickly looking, and dark. He's unafraid to show off his toned muscles all throughout his body. Physically, he knows he's attractive and doesn't hesitate to let other's know it. A small section on the left of his neck is permanently burned from an accident when he was just a small boy. He also has a wide variety of tattoos, the biggest one being a tribal sleeve piece that wraps around his entire left arm. Another being a self-administered scarified hand print to represent his ties and loyalty to the Amaranth Wolves.

Head scar and arm tattoo

Amaranth Wolves mark

Gang Affiliation:

"Amaranth Wolves, baby. Ain't nothing better!"

Personality:

Firstly, Deon is incredibly conceited and self-centered. His only priority is himself which he often-times refers to as "number one." He is boastful and cocky, and appears to believe himself invincible. He will stop at nothing to prove himself better than the rest in whatever he can, and when losing, he somehow twists his words to make himself the victor in one way or another. He doesn't know how to lose.

Fighting, whether it be verbal or physical, he is extremely cut-throat and merciless. He has killed only a handful of times over the years, but he shows no remorse in the lives he takes. He fights with a raw, animalistic rage that comes from the rage he keeps building inside, the only break to his human side being that he outwardly laughs at his pain, refusing to show any weakness. His reputation within the cage fighting community has instilled fear in others for facing the proverbial beast. It has been noted by many that a certain fire seems to light in his eyes when he has done a fight successfully and to his liking, or when he gets excited about the idea of being able to beat the living shit out of someone. This fire, coupled with a twisted, smug smile on his face, is a thirst for warfare that he simply gets drunk off of, and had become addicted to.

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 on too high of a priority level, especially when his reputation is on the line of being a "bad boy."

When enticed, he can be quite charming and ever the smooth-talker. This, along with his bad boy nature, for some reason, always manages to have a handful of girls out for his attention and hanging off his arm. Though the fame might have something to do with it as well...

Brief History:

Born straight into a family in poverty as an accident, Deon was forced to start working at a very young age robbing him of any kind of childhood that he might of otherwise had. His father left as soon as he found out that his mother was pregnant with his little sister, and to this day has never seen or heard from the man again. Deon was only three when he left, resulting in not even a single memory of him. According to his mother, however, he was the spitting image of him and more times than not, she couldn't bring herself to even look at him.

He grew up a bastard messenger boy, delivering secret messages between various organizations that even in his young age, he could tell they were a bit sketchy. But he knew better than to ask questions. He only needed the pay. It was almost next-to-nothing, and he was lucky if he didn't get beaten or sexually harassed by his boss on a daily basis after reporting in his work-load, even if everything was on time.

As Deon grew older, however, he left the messenger job as quickly as he could and started working in a slaughter house. His sole job was to kill the livestock and then butcher the meat into different cuts for the customers. It took a bit of getting used to, but eventually Deon became desensitized to the value of life in animals and eventually found more entertaining (torturous) ways to kill them before cutting them up. But even killing live animals couldn't keep him entertained enough for long, and when he was eighteen he took up a new job fighting in the ring at a local bar. Illegal, absolutely, and Deon had only stumbled upon it by accident to begin with. But after getting just his first taste of the underground party, he was hooked.

He found that fighting others was something he enjoyed, even if a bit too much. He became a regular fighter, slowly growing his fan base with every win he took home with him and eventually, the name Deon "Big Dog" Saunders was a name most everyone in the city knew well. The posters, billboards and painted buses helped a bit with that.

Unfortunately, being a big-shot in a business that brought in a ton of money brought on some enemies. After refusing to throw a match and being compensated three-times his normal winnings for it, the manager of his competition grew furious. Deon came home one night to find his mother and sister beaten, raped, and slaughtered inside of their bedrooms. There has never been any substantial proof on who had killed his only family, but Deon has more reason to believe than any on who it was.

He went after the man immediately, not wanting to bother to wait for a true police investigation. Blinded by rage, he beat the unsuspecting man in his own home within an inch of his life. The police had been called and intercepted the beat down. Deon was thrown in prison shortly after where he remained for two years. After being released, he returned back to the world of cage fighting, forever a chip on his shoulder that he knew would never get filled.

He was two months undefeated when he was then approached by a member of the Amaranth Wolves. It took a bit of convincing, but Deon eventually put his fighting career on the side to partake in something more fulfilling. He still fights to this day, and remains undefeated for over three years. But his number one priority is his gang, and he vows to keep it that way no matter the cost.

Extras

• Theme: I am Machine - Three Days Grace
• Likes: Alcohol, women, fighting, sex.
• Dislikes: Being told what to do, annoying little shits and kids, being undermined, being lied to.
• Fears: Refuses to comment.
• Hobbies: Women/sex, drinking, working out, cage fighting.
• Goals: Refuses to comment.

Giovanni De Luca

Giovanni "Dito sul grilletto" De Luca

Alias/Nickname(s):

Grilletto - 'Trigger', Gio - Shortened 'Giovanni', De Lucca - Some people refer to others by surnames

'Dito Sul Grilletto' - Triggerfinger

Age:

Twenty-Six

Gender:

Male

Sexual Preference:

Heterosexual

Appearance:

Grilleto is a short man, rising up to the paltry height of five foot three inches tall. His short stature does little to disarm his appearance however; Grilleto has the eyes of a man who has seen much blood, eyes that are dim and hollow and hold little emotion, eyes that have stared down the barrel of more guns and knives than any man his age should ever have had to look down. That is, perhaps, the most striking thing about the man- his eyes, cold and soul-less.

Scars pockmark his body. Remnants of fights and battles of old. Most notable of his wounds, however, is the hideous scar wracking his back- a burn scar, one that still haunts him to this day, its pain plaguing him every so often. This burn scar covers nearly the entirety of his back, and even rolls over his right shoulder and halfway down his arm.

His many wounds are a testament to his fortitude and unwavering desire to live, but also a curse that has weakened him physically as he gained them.

His medium length hair is well manicured and taken care of, and the man always dresses finely- more finely than most, in three and five piece suits almost exclusively. The only other outfit he can be caught in is gym wear, exercising his body to maintain his physicality in the face of his extensive wounds.

He wears a wedding band on a chain about his neck.

Gang Affiliation:

Formerly of the De Luca Family, of the Five Dons of New York/The Cosa Nostra
Presently of the Amaranth Wolves

Brief History:

The Short of it

Giovanni De Luca, known as 'Dito Sul Grilletto' or Triggerfinger, is the final surviving member of the old 'De Luca' family of the Cosa Nostra. He was the Don's second son, and definite favorite. The De Luca family suffered the ultimate wrath of the Cosa Nostra, the full weight of the other four families bearing down on them and destroying them in their entirely due to Don De Luca's reluctance to change from the old ways in the face of New York's trying times.

The other four families moved and plotted against the De Luca's, and ultimately destroyed them after a horrendously bloody war that took place almost in broad daylight. Giovanni survived this war, but not without immense sacrifice. It was during this war that he lost the woman he was to wed, and also gained his extreme abhorrence of the Five [now Three] dons.

Barely surviving the war, and most certainly not winning it, The young De Luca disappeared for several months before returning to New York. He was scarred, a husk of his former self, and out for only one thing; Revenge. He dropped himself at the Amaranth wolves' feet, offered them his services- his expertise with firearms, his knowledge of the Cosa Nostra, his experience in organized crime, his dedication as a soldier...anything he could offer them, he did. He would fly their colors, work for them, be loyal and become a wolf- so long as he got his chance for revenge one day.

Giovanni, nowadays, officially lives in the illustrious Haven, but spends almost all of his time either in the field, or at the Wolves' headquarters to do work. His financial windfall comes from his inheritance of the family funds, legally, even if they had been depleted immensely by the war and all of the property assets seized.

"Amaranth is a curious word to use for a gang, but I like it. It's a flower, sure, but it also means 'A flower that never fades'. Never fades... I think that's a bit beautiful for a gang, but hell- I'm one of 'em now."

The Long of it part 1

"I was young. Full of fire. I wanted to prove I was the best. What I shoulda done was grab Her and left town, hell, left the country. But I didn't know how bad it was gonna be."

Our tale will begin several years back, with the beginning of the hostilities against the De Luca family. Don De Luca was an old-guard, an established and entitled man. He cared not for the new dons of the other four families and their desires to move the Cosa Nostra out of traditional Italian Mafioso ways, and into a new age of, what Don De Luca considered, degenerate crime sprees.

----

"Those fuckers." Giovanni cursed. "Those Motherfuckers..." He slammed a fist into the table he sat at, causing his glass of wine to spill from the table and break upon the hard ground of the restaurant the small crew of mobsters inhabited. He found heat rising to his cheeks as his father, older brother, and the chief soldiers of the clan all stared at him for his outburst.

"Dito, anger is unbecoming of you. Do not have such an outburst again or you will be dismissed from this council." His father's deep voice resonated to the ashamed man's ears from across the table. Giovanni pressed his hands to the bridge of his nose and nodded.

"Forgive me papa, but...They tried to have you killed. Blatantly. Right after the meeting." Gio attempted to explain his anger, to which his father just raised a many-ring-bearing hand.

"I was there Dito, I know what they did, and I know why they did it. They're young. Fiery. Like you, my son. Do not become rash or they will have won."

The don's words seem to have calmed Giovanni down, and the young man looked to his father with both awe at his father's bravery and a naïve hope that they'd win the war that had just started. Giovanni's older brother spoke up then;

"We can't out-spend them. The cops will look the other way whenever they strike, but be quick to crack down on us. That's just a fact we'll have to keep in mind." The older man, nearly ten years Giovanni's senior, coughed into a rag he gripped tightly. "But our boys are veterans, hard and strong. We'll make 'em bleed papa."

The chief soldiers nodded in agreement and murmured vague affirmations of the strength of Don De Luca's men. The Don only offered a wizened smile and laughed.

"You're all so hasty. Calm down-- calm down." The don leaned in conspiratorially to the table, as if the restaurant was not completely empty save for them due to the don's buying it out. "We've gotta be smart about this boys. They used a car bomb, tried to catch me unawares. Luckily for me, poor Luke started the car early and the fools tried to play it off when I accused them after the meeting."

The don splays his hands.

"I say we give tit-for-tat. Go for the heads fast and hard. Teach them why I stand for the traditions and not this...desperation they reek of." The don then gave various orders to the chief soldiers and his eldest son, as if forgetting his 'Dito' was even present. This made Giovanni grit his teeth and sigh heavily.

"Papa, I'm a crack shot. Let me go for the Luciano's. We know where he lives and I'm certain if I get one shot at him he'll be deader than a fish in concrete." Giovanni pleaded with his father, desperate to be of some use to his family.

The Don weighed his gaze on his youngest son heavily, before nodding in silence and rising up from the table. The council was dismissed.

----

"When I killed Luciano is when the cops got involved, and things went downhill fast. If I could take back just one thing, I'd have missed that shot all those years ago."

Giovanni had claimed to be a crack shot to his father, but the truth of the matter is that the scrappy man was, hands down, the most skilled marksman of the De Luca clan. He had already operated as a triggerman for a number of hits in his career, and so he thought that killing Don Luciano would prove as simple as the rest of his hits; Sight on target, pull trigger, then bounce the scene.

He had never been in a war before, to put it simply. He had only been a hitman, not a soldier, up until this point.

He fired the shot at 7:34 AM on a Thursday. Luciano received the bullet straight through the center of his face, where it entered through his nasal cartilage, smashed through the base of his brain, and then tore the back of his neck; the shot fired from on-high, at a downward angle at the unsuspecting Don as he was doing his morning exercise in his pool.

Giovanni packed up his rifle swiftly and began to leave the scene..

-----

"I remember it well. The Don died, and as I began to make my way back home I pulled out my phone to call papa. That action saved my life."

Giovanni swiftly sped down the stairs of the building he had chosen to use as his sniping vantage, and as he did so he fumbled in his breast pocket for his phone. He pulled the phone out and swiftly dialed his father, the rifle-case slung onto his back as he ran down the stairs.

"Papa, it's do-" the young man began, before fumbling the phone from his grip and dropping it down the stairs. He sighed in exasperation, this act of clumsiness not what he had hoped for in terms of how this mission was going, before he leapt down the stairs and stooped to pick up the phone--

Bang. Two shotgun blasts hit the wall where he was standing moments ago, and Giovanni's reflexes kicked in as a primal urge to not-die pumped pure adrenaline into his veins. Hardly a second had passed from the shotgun blasts passing overhead, thankfully from far too close for the spread to hit the stooped man, before Giovanni's revolver was in hand and he hit the dirt, falling partially down the stairs for cover as he returned fire at the two Luciano goons who interrupted his phone call. Two shots, two bodies hit the floor, and Giovanni was breathing harder than he had ever breathed before.

"Mama mia..." He panted, picking his phone up to hear the angry yelling of his father-

"Papa, papa! I'm fine, I'm fine!" Giovanni yelled into the phone. "Gotta go for now, don't know how many more are coming for me. I'll be home ASAP, don't wait up." He ended with a cocky flair, riding the adrenaline hard. He hung the phone up, depositing into his breast pocket once more, as he picked up a fallen shotgun and cocked the heavier weapon, holstering his revolver.

"Jesus...Fuck, okay. Giovanni, you got this." He whispered to himself. "They call you Grilletto for a reason."

He shouldered the rifle, holding it in place as he descended the stairs. A half dozen more bodies hit the ground before he made it out of the building, and thusly escaped to return home.

The Luciano family was the first of the five to break. With the death of Don Luciano, the three rivals to the De Luca family swiftly cannibalized the followers of Luciano and steeled their resolve to face the Old Don of De Luca.

The Long of it Part 2

"She was the only thing keeping me going after the first year of the war. My brother had died to a car bombing, and father was in witness protection for safety. I was in charge of the family, and She was the only thing keeping me from snapping entirely."

"Gio, please." The woman pleaded. "Go into hiding, you can't do this, you can't keep fighting your father's battles!"

She was relatively plain. Long black hair, pale skin, bright blue eyes, but...average. Thin, almost bony, and his father certainly had never approved of her- She wasn't Italian. But Gio had fallen in love years ago, when they were but teenagers and had the freedom to elope around the city at night spending his father's cash on their trivial fantasies. But more importantly than that, she made him...feel. She helped him escape the constant fear of death, the constant worry that a car he got into might explode, the fear of a sniper on the rooftop.

She helped him escape his own rampant bloodlust. First his brother was killed, then his father was taken by the police. Giovanni wanted the dons dead. And she helped calm him, stop him from waging open warfare in the streets. Helped him keep things civil, like the traditions dictated. He wasn't about to stoop to their level, to gunning people on the sidewalk. He was going to keep things true to how his father would want them done. That's what she helped him focus on.

"Gio..." She continued. "Please. For me. Come away with me, we'll go to Italy- your grandparents still live there, right?" She tried.

"Dead. Three years ago. Natural causes, they was old sweetie." Giovanni said exhaustedly. "I can't run. If I run, then my brother died in vain and father will have lost everything for nothing." He raised his tired eyes- even now beginning to grow cold- to the woman he loved. "I can't run. It's not the De Luca way."

She went quiet. Held very still, before simply nodding and shutting her eyes tightly. She fell into his arms, and he held her like that. Still and quiet, but strong.

"We'll get married once this is all taken care of. I won't die- can't die. Not when I've made a promise to an Angel like yourself. God would never forgive me for disappointing one of his angels. Remember that, sweetie, okay? I promise, no matter what, that I'll come back to you."

He released her as she pulled back and nodded, accepting his promise.

"Okay. Okay I know. I know. You promise, and I'll hold you to it Gio." She wiped at her eyes and reluctantly kissed the young Don. "You better not die on me."

Giovanni returned the kiss, before running his hands through her hair and lifting a hand, showing her the wedding band he had proposed to her with.

"God as my witness, I'll crawl outta hell to keep my word."

---

"I didn't know I'd be going into hell so soon after I made that promise. I don't know what compelled me to accept the offer of peace talks from the other three dons. Looking back on things now, I should've realized it was a trap- but I was caught up in the old ways. Papa always taught me that when a man said he wanted to talk, that you could show up, talk, then go home without worrying about getting shot. I guess I never learned- Papa himself was almost bombed after such a talk. But still I went, and I guess deep in my heart I knew something bad was about to happen."

Giovanni, accompanied by two of his best men, sat across from the three remaining dons who wanted him dead. In a strange feeling of deja vu, he couldn't help but recall sitting across from his father this very same way...

Empty restaurant, terrified waiting staff, excellent wine, and incredible anger in the air. His triggerfinger was itchy. He rubbed his hands and eyed the other dons tiredly- unlike them, Giovanni had been fighting every step of the war, not pawning the job off on his men. He lead by example, not by virtue of birth. He had to- the men barely knew who he was when he took power.

"Giovanni De Luca." The first man began. "Thank you for coming to this talk. We weren't sure you'd make it."

"Yeah the roads are dangerous as hell these days. Every cop in the city is looking for me, and half the cars explode as soon as you touch 'em these days, eh fellas?" Giovanni interjected dryly. "Cut the bullshit, tell me what it is we're here to discuss. I know you fellas ain't here for peace, not when I'm as haggard and dry as I am. What, you guys outta bullets and need a loan?" He lifted a hand, and the two men who came with him revealed submachine guns within their coats to the other three dons, who all looked immensely amused at Giovanni's ploy of power.

"Nonsense. We want peace. This war is expensive. Paying the cops, paying the soldiers, paying the families of the soldiers you keep killing- eh, our pockets ain't bottomless kid, this isn't the olden days." The second explained. The third laughed heartily;

"Yeah! We were more...here to negotiate. You call off your soldiers, and we don't ixnay ouryay atherfay."

Giovanni frowned deeply; Pig Latin AND a threat. How...understandably Mafioso, he decided.

"What? He's gone, you can't threaten him. Cut the bullshit, you're talking to Giovanni De Luca, not some father's boy."

"Need proof?" The first said calmly. "Here." The man slid a tablet across the table, the screen displaying a few camera angles of a home in sunny Fort Lauderdale Florida. Giovanni's father, in true witness protection form, seemed to be under the guise of a gold enthusiast. Giovanni frowned deeply and stared at the tablet. He shut his eyes for a few seconds, before opening them- his cold, dead, eyes ablaze with fire.

"Drop 'em boys." He ordered, his men reaching to draw their submachine guns- but two hails of gunfire from the kitchen of the restaurant caused Giovanni to dive under the table as his men's bullet-ridden bodies hit the ground behind him.

"Tsk. Now you have to watch your father die, kid. You've got spunk."

Giovanni found himself manhandled by the three dons, who picked him up off the ground and restrained him, keeping his ever-lethal hands away from the guns nearby. They slammed Gio into the table and forced his face at the tablet, where he witnessed several men enter into the home his father was inhabiting and brutally stab him to death on camera. Giovanni's blazing eyes hardened with anger as he watched, and he felt his whole body go hot with rage-

hot with rage? Then why are tears streaming down his face? First his brother, now his father- That was too much. Far too much.

He clenched his eyes shut, sucked in a deep breath, and steadied his nerves.

"Fuck you." He whispered. "Fuck all of you."

He slammed his own body into the table harder, tipping it over and allowing his body to tumble to the ground with the three men holding him. Unlike them, he was expecting the fall. He managed to break free of their holds and scramble to his feet, sprinting across the room as gunfire lit the walls behind him. As he ran he drew his, by now, iconic revolver and returned fire. Two shots, two bodies hit the floor. He finally reached the entrance of the restaurant and stopped, planting his feet and turning to turn his vengeance on the three dons- now cowering behind the table- only to feel something hard strike the base of his skull and blackness envelope him.

The Long of It Part 3

"I was an idiot to think there were only two goons there. An idiot to think that it would be that easy. They took my father from me, my brother- they were about to end me then and there too, but it would've been too hard to make it all disappear, even with the cops in their pocket. What had saved me was that I had made it to the door. Civilians saw me gun a couple of guys down, and that dirtied up the scene. They had to get me somewhere quiet to end me. Eyewitnesses are a bitch, ain't they?"

Giovanni awoke in the trunk of a car. He could tell because when he sat up he slammed his head into a steel ceiling, and when he opened his eyes he could only see slivers of light through small cracks. He smelled gasoline very strongly.

He tried to move his arms, but they were handcuffed. He tried to twist his body and kick his legs, but there wasn't enough room for the proper leverage. He felt a dread overcoming him.

Speedbump. Face against ceiling. Now his nose was broken too. God clearly hated him.

Giovanni groaned and turned onto his side to avoid further destroying his face against the steel ceiling of the trunk, and curled up as much as he could as he breathed out of his mouth, blood sliding down his face. He tested the cuffs, then grit his teeth.

"Grilletto, you ain't about to die here. Fuck you, God."

He tried to calm his breathing, and as he did he realized where the gasoline smell was coming from. There were several jerry cans of gas sitting snug in front of him, as well as the box of matches that Giovanni assumed was there to set the car, and himself, on fire.

".....Eh, there are worse ways to go..." He half joked to himself he steeled himself for what he had to do next. He shut his eyes tight, grit his teeth hard, and moved his hands together, grabbing the thumb of his left hand in his right. "alright...Alright...On the count of three... One... Two-"

He cheated himself of the extra second and broke his thumb right then and there, muffling his cry of pain by pressing his face- broken nose and all- into the carpeted floor of the trunk.

He pulled his hand out of the handcuff weakly and gingerly rubbed his left hand with his right.

"Just...Just a little longer Gio..." He said, spots filling his vision. "You... You promised Her..."

----

"Yeah. I blacked out for a few minutes. Who can blame me? I'd been concussed, broke my own thumb, and had a broken nose. Sue me for taking a nap at a critical moment, will ya?"

When Giovanni awoke, he felt a full pain in his face, which he dimly registered as his broken nose. Next, he felt an excruciating pain in his left thumb. Which he then remembered was his own fault. He rolled around gingerly, refreshing himself on his surroundings. Through the smell of gasoline, he could smell fresher air, snow, trees- they'd taken him way out of town, way way out of town and into the woods.

"Good. Good." Giovanni nodded slowly. "I can do this..."

He slid to the jerry cans and pushed them aside, feeling the back wall of the trunk with his right hand. He could feel the section that opens into the back seat and grit his teeth. He gripped the handcuffs in his left hand, stretching the chain out to his right wrist taught, holding it how he could with a broken thumb.

Giovanni admits his first plan was stupid- kick open the back seat and scramble forward to try and strangle the driver? He'd just get himself in a wreck and die in the ensuing fire anyway. Luckily, he realized the idiocy of this plan swiftly and did the next best thing;

He dropped the handcuff and shook himself of his pain, clearing his head slightly. He grabbed the gasoline canisters and shakily undid the lids of them one at a time. He fumbled and dropped one, soaking himself in gasoline and filling the bottom of the trunk in a thin layer of the substance. He rolled onto his back and propped himself up on his right arm to avoid soaking too much in the flammable substance as he positioned himself for the next step of his plan.

With one solid kick, he knocked the back of the back seat open and revealed the rest of the car to himself.

With the next kick, he sent one gasoline can spiraling into the front windshield, splashing gasoline everywhere. Panic ensued in the front seat, but before anyone could retaliate he kicked a second one, then a third one out- and immediately lit a match and threw it into the front of the car.

It took to a blaze immediately. Giovanni will never forget the horrid stench and pain he experienced in that car. The fire spread instantly through the entire vehicle, and they veered off the road- crashing into a tree in a tremendous crash. Giovanni slammed into the lid of the trunk as the vehicle crumpled like a tin can under a boot, and perhaps God didn't hate him after all.

He slammed into the ceiling and the trunk opened up, unable to stay locked from the vehicular damage. Even as Giovanni was blacking out, on fire, and in incredible pain, he crawled out of the trunk and into the snow. He rolled his body around frantically, extinguishing the flames on himself.

He managed to crawl about thirty feet, back to the edge of the road, before blackness consumed him.

"I thought I was dead. I felt like hell. I hurt all over, and could barely move anymore as my hands finally hit the asphalt of the road. I just kept thinking of Her as darkness consumed me. When I woke up four months later, My entire world would be different."

The Long of it Part 4, The finale

"I awoke in a hospital, a 'John Doe' with no family or connections to speak of. When I was well enough to walk, I left. They couldn't keep me there. I wouldn't have it. I wasn't in New York City, but I found my way back... When I made it home, the Dons had all but destroyed my family, absorbed them, killed them, chased them off... I had nothing. Nobody. A broken body, a broken heart, and... and I learned She was dead. I...I don't want to talk about her. I won't."

Giovanni walked into a new New York City. Things were different, that's for sure. The Cosa Nostra had lost most of their power in the last decades, and the mafia had been all but clinging to life before the war started. Now that two of the five families were gone, the last three were able to consolidate and keep themselves alive...but truly there was nothing to compare to the size and power of both The Lost Ones and the Amaranth Wolves now. Even back when the five families existed, they could barely compare to the two powerful gangs, but now it was all they could do to hold onto their territory.

Giovanni knew he had to make a choice as he walked back into New York, those two years ago. Slip into shadows and stay hidden for the rest of his life, a hollow man...

Or pick a side and rebuild himself. He had his pride. He wanted to kill the Dons, make them hurt for what they did to him...what they made Her do.

The Lost Ones would not serve this end. He needed the Wolves. And they needed him. A Master sharpshooter with years upon years of organized crime and underworld combat under his belt?

He Offered to join. They accepted.

"The Dons had forgotten the 'De Luca' name in the months I was gone. They don't care about me. They forgot about me. They either think I'm dead or too weak and useless to come after them. I've got a new family now- One not so different from my old one. Cosa Nostra, Amaranth Wolf...They almost mean the same thing. Family. Who cares about the different blood- They'll die for me, and I'll die for them. That's all that matters. The Amaranth Wolves are my Cosa Nostra. We are the same thing... And one day, I'll bring the Five...No, the Three...dons under my heel. That'll repay what I owe the wolves. Yeah. That'll do nicely."

Extras

• Theme: Giovanni's Jazz
• Likes: opera, classical music, blues, jazz. Tasteful smoking. Fine dining, and most fruits.
• Dislikes: Excess; gluttony, waste, etc. Rap. Physical altercations. Disrespect. Poverty. People who can't pronounce his name without feigning an Italian accent.
• Fears: Fire. Restraint. Blindfolds. Sexual interaction.
• Hobbies: playing Piano and the Cello. Maintaining and practicing with firearms. Shopping, eating out, and movies. Dancing. Additionally, Giovanni is an avid collector of cigars and wine vintages.
• Goals: Giovanni wants to destroy the remaining members of the Cosa Nostra and establish himself as the Sole Don of New York. He intends to remain under the wolves, thusly expanding their power base instrumentally should he succeed-- but the possibility of him striking out on his own is not impossible.
  
  To a more direct end, his goal is to simply serve the Amaranth Wolves as best he can to repay the debt he owes them for taking him in when he was at his weakest.

Character Skeleton

In order to have everyone's CS formatted the same, click the "Raw" button at the top right corner of this post so you can copy the BB Code with the CS.

Character Name Here

Full Name

[Attach a picture/GIF of your character here, optional]

Alias/Nickname(s):

(Does your character go by anything other than their name above?)

Age:

(From 18 to 25ish I'd say. Keep in mind the themes of this roleplay, so younger characters/roleplayers be wary.)

Gender:

(You know what goes here.)

Sexual Preference:

(What makes their heart go boom boom?)

Appearance:

(What do they look like? Describe their height, weight, general body characteristics. Be especially detailed if you don't have a picture. If you have a picture, be sure to describe what isn't told through the picture.)

Gang Affiliation:

(Amaranth Wolves or The Lost Ones.)

Brief History:

(Include enough for clarity's sake but leave room for development. This section should include your characrer's origins as well as how they were inducted into the gang over. Do pay attention to the details here. For example, if you're a Wolf, it's harder to join, so consider that when writing this.)

Extras

• Theme: (Optional, find a paste a song here that you think captures your character.)
• Likes: (What makes them happy?)
• Dislikes: (What bothers them?)
• Fears: (What do they fear?)
• Hobbies: (What do they do for fun?)
• Goals: (What do they hope to achieve? Not everyone has a long-term goal, though. You can also choose to omit this for character development's sake.)

(Special thanks to YoshiSkittlez for updating and fixing up the old interest check.)

Streets on Fire (rehash)

@Blitz Lets think about getting this moved over this weekend :) Looks like we have plenty of interest to get this started in the next few days!

@YoshiSkittlez

Of course!

Sorry I've been quiet y'all! Lol, I actually got really sick and nearly hospitalized so... Oops. Let me catch up on reading all the posts and whatnot and I'll go ahead and make an OOC. :D

@Fading Memory Wonderful! I love the detail. It's a yes from me.

@Boneington I'm not sure if you're new here or joking, but I'm afraid I cannot accept your character.

Streets on Fire (rehash)

Hi all! Sorry I've been quiet, I had three tests on three consecutive days this week. Once this is all over I'mma do some housekeeping hehe.

@Kingfisher Love it! You're in.

We've got quite a few Lost Ones in already. Hmmmm. I think I still want to create one for them, but we shall see.

Streets on Fire (rehash)

@Afro Samurai It's a yes from me too.

I'm gonna be doing a little traveling this weekend cuz of Easter, but I'mma try to get up a Lost Ones character, I think. I'm also gonna update the rosters and possibly create an official OOC too. But for now, enjoy yall's weekend!

Also, Yoshi, I'm still cracking up at "It took a bit of convincing" in Deon's CS. I cri.

Streets on Fire (rehash)

@YoshiSkittlez Ahhh there he is, my boiiii

@Faded Memory I like it. Yoshi can veto and/or make any requests for you as necessary, but it's a yes from me.

On a somewhat related note, I may make a Lost Ones character too (as may Yoshi), so stay tuned for those possibly as well.

Streets on Fire (rehash)

Well, I finished my CS. It's not a work of art, but I suppose it'll do.

Angel McBride

Angel Cecelia McBride

Another picture

Alias/Nickname(s):

Wolf Princess

Age:

Twenty-one

Gender:

Female

Sexual Preference:

Let’s just say she’s mostly straight.

Appearance:

She's a tall, lithe, and quite beautiful blonde woman. It is an appearance which is perfect for deception, as many take her attractiveness as an indication of vulnerability and weakness, though this is simply not the case. She has a cold gaze that warms up for only a select few. Her smile is also rarely seen, though beautiful. Her least favorite feature about herself is that her hands are mildly calloused from climbing buildings and bruised or scarred from a few fistfights she has gotten into. Angel's attire varies greatly depending on the situation she is in. Casually, she wears whatever is comfortable; that could be a T-shirt and jeans or a tank top and shorts, or a sweater and pants. If she is going out, whether on a mission or for drinks, she may dress more scantily to show off her treasure of a body, including her long legs and distracting bust. Even though she is a gang leader and sometimes her living accommodations in the city are meager, she takes quite good care of herself, though she tries not to do so to a fault. Even if the pipes freeze over in the winter and there is no water, no new clothes, no comb for her hair, she will still walk with a proud and confident swagger that can intimidate many a male.

Gang Affiliation:

Amaranth Wolves (leader)

Brief History:

Angel has been a member of the Wolves for her whole life, literally. It began during the era of a previous leader of the wolves, Hayden. He was only sixteen, and the gang was still in its burgeoning stages. One hot summer day, a baby mysteriously appeared outside the gang's hideout in Amaranth. The baby was wrapped in blankets and left inside an old cardboard box, with no indication of where she had come from, except for a note with "Angel Cecelia McBride" scrawled on it inside the box as well. Upon discovering the infant, Hayden was both shocked and ashamed that someone could abandon their child, though he knew times were tough. The other gang members felt uneasy about it, but Hayden felt he had no other choice but to take her in. And so, this baby, was raised by gangsters. She grew up in a life of turmoil and hardships, learning that deceit and violence were the key to survival. Luckily, Hayden was one of the few educated people left in the country, and instilled more than just street knowledge into Angel. This included literacy, and from books, Angel learned to actually feel some semblance of empathy and compassion. Nevertheless, cynicism quickly got its claws into her, as she saw many of the people who raised her die, including Hayden. He died not in battle but of a never-before-seen incurable illness that no one could identify. He was twenty-six when this happened, and Angel was only ten years old.

A member named Titus was elected among the group members as the next leader, an eighteen year old. Under Titus, the Wolves acquired a great deal of territory in Amaranth and secured a myriad of weapons and resources. At the age of twenty-six, when Angel was eighteen, Titus was shot and killed by a police officer during a planned raid of a storage house in the Haven. After this, the age of twenty-six was deemed as a curse among the Wolves, at least for its leaders. Titus’s death came with bad timing, as the cops soon raided a key hideout of the Wolves and the gang fell into disarray. The remaining members decided they still had to elect another leader. Another young member, one with a strong devotion to the gang—Angel. Although the gang experienced a small period of turmoil and loss in numbers after Titus's death, Angel did her best to stabilize the chaos. Her gang members trust in her, though her progress is slow and gradual. Despite the exclusivity of her gang, she found it crucial to expand their numbers again once their survival was ensured if they wished to not be snuffed out by the police or the Lost Ones.

Extras

• Theme: youtube.com/watch?v=RFNPUJD6KKA
• Likes: Alcohol, money, guns, a good brawl, animals, parkour, playing with her prey, bravery
• Dislikes: Spicy food, insubordination, dishonesty, weakness
• Fears: Death above all
• Hobbies: Taking walks alone, going to bars, pickpocketting, hustling others
• Goals: I'mma leave this blank.

Streets on Fire (rehash)

To those of y'all interested and possibly want to get a head start on creating a character, here's a CS skeleton. In order to have everyone's CS formatted the same, click the "Raw" button at the top right corner of this post so you can copy the BB Code with the CS.

Character Name Here

Full Name

[Attach a picture/GIF of your character here, optional]

Alias/Nickname(s):

(Does your character go by anything other than their name above?)

Age:

(From 18 to 25ish I'd say. Keep in mind the themes of this roleplay, so younger characters/roleplayers be wary.)

Gender:

(You know what goes here.)

Sexual Preference:

(What makes their heart go boom boom?)

Appearance:

(What do they look like? Describe their height, weight, general body characteristics. Be especially detailed if you don't have a picture. If you have a picture, be sure to describe what isn't told through the picture.)

Gang Affiliation:

(Amaranth Wolves or The Lost Ones.)

Brief History:

(Include enough for clarity's sake but leave room for development. This section should include your characrer's origins as well as how they were inducted into the gang over. Do pay attention to the details here. For example, if you're a Wolf, it's harder to join, so consider that when writing this.)

Extras

• Theme: (Optional, find a paste a song here that you think captures your character.)
• Likes: (What makes them happy?)
• Dislikes: (What bothers them?)
• Fears: (What do they fear?)
• Hobbies: (What do they do for fun?)
• Goals: (What do they hope to achieve? Not everyone has a long-term goal, though. You can also choose to omit this for character development's sake.)

EDIT: Just made some last minute edits and spiffed things up. Yoshi and I are working on our characters as we speak.

Streets on Fire (rehash)

This is Streets on Fire - a roleplay raised from the dead from over four years ago (right after the guild fall). Centered around two rival gangs in a broken New York-styled city, this story focuses on the themes of self-discovery, betrayal, revenge, confusion, depression and so much more. There may be a silver-lining in this desolate city, but don’t get your hope up. There’s a noose over there in the corner over there should you need it.

Background Information

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. Long story short, New York City has gone to shit.

The two rival gangs are not similar at all. They both stress different values and the two gang leaders have very different ideas as to how their gang should be run.

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 @YoshiSkittlez will be a member among the ranks of The Lost Ones, with another character for the Wolves. We will be co-GM’ing the thread. It would be ideal for both gangs to have an equal number of players, so please take that into consideration when it comes to creating your character. I will do my best to keep the roster updated so it’s easy to see who belongs to what gang.

Important territory information

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 (Blitz’s character) 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.
• For now, 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. Also, if there is a problem with numbers in general, the limit of characters and gang affiliation might be changed.
• Although it may be obvious, some themes will be present that not everyone may be comfortable with. This includes swearing, drugs, violence, and even the possibility of high-end 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 an advanced roleplay, so acceptable grammar and spelling is necessary. Believe me when I say, however, that I 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 - one of the original co-GM’s that sadly will not be joining us for the reboot)

The Gangs

The Lost Ones

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

TBA

The Amaranth Wolves

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

TBA

That’s it! Have fun and don’t be a jackass! :D

(Special thanks to YoshiSkittlez for updating and fixing up the old interest check.)

RPGC #15: New Beginnings - Prompt and Entries

The Desert Prince

Author’s Note, Word Count 3208

Yay! A new contest! I can’t say I’m feeling any more creative than I usually am, but I don’t see any harm with throwing my hat into the ring again. Hooray for new beginnings! Also I’m so sorry that the word count is so high, but it’s rare that I get a burst of inspiration like this, so I hope y’all enjoy.

It was morning. The bright, desert sun streamed in through the ornate stained glass windows of the royal audience chamber, sending flecks of red, green, blue, and yellow all across the room. The large, wooden doors on the far side of the chamber swung open with a crash and in walked two armored guards. Each of them was restraining an arm of their struggling prisoner, dragging him down the long, red carpet laid out before the King’s throne. The prisoner would have been yelling threats and curses if he had not been gagged with a cloth; instead, only choked grunts echoed off the sandstone walls.

King Cykan IV of Eccahania sat on his throne calmly, watching the haggard man being dragged closer and closer. On his right stood his trusted advisor, tall and dressed in purple and gold robes. In his thin fingers he clutched a scroll outlining a list of alleged offenses. To the left of the King’s throne was a smaller one, where Queen Aggiana sat, and off to the side sat Prince Tedjek and Princess Caelia.

The prisoner’s chains rattled as he was finally tossed to the floor before the monarch, whose expression remained neutral and unchanged. His long, golden-colored hair and beard matched his crown perfectly. The Queen, radiant as always, sat smiling softly. Her gentle hand emerged from the folds of her adorned lace garment and came to rest atop her husband’s hand.

“So, this is the man,” Tedjek whispered so only his sister next to him could hear.

“He looks more like a beggar than an assassin,” Caelia whispered back with a shrug.

The King’s advisor cleared his throat and opened the scroll.

“Golan of Inmitria,” the advisor read in a surprisingly booming voice for a man of such skinny stature. “You have been charged with multiple crimes, ranging from petty theft and brawls to multiple counts of murders of high-ranking officials and an attempt on the life Queen Aggiana.”

The prisoner, Golan, kept his head bowed while the advisor read his charges. When the attempt on the Queen’s life was mentioned, the prisoner’s gaze drifted toward Tedjek for a moment, sending a shiver down his spine. The man’s gaze was cold and frightening.

“How do you plead?”

The man raised up his chin, his long, dark strands of hair partially obscuring his face. One of the guards that brought him in reached down and pulled the gag from his mouth.

“Guilty,” he rasped after a small coughing fit. “To all charges.”

The King finally opened his mouth.

“Golan,” he began. The King’s voice was usually stalwart and unwavering, but it seemed like he was holding some anger back. “You have pled guilty, which normally merits a reduction in one’s sentence, but… Your crimes have been so heinous, so wicked that—”

“My love,” the Queen gently interjected, stopping his speech while it was still in crescendo. “Before you sentence this pitiable man, please look inside your heart and find mercy.”

“Mercy?” The King looked at his wife in disbelief. “Did you not hear his crimes? He deserves worse than death! He could have ties to the rebels or—”

The Queen gestured toward the prisoner. “Look at him, wearing rags and covered head to toe in injuries. Why, he already has one foot in the grave as it is. I’m sure he hardly has it in him to cause any more harm now. Additionally, putting this man to death would be more merciful than letting him die the lonely life of a beggar, don’t you agree? If he deserves worse than death… why not just let him go?”

“Let him go?” Tedjek whispered to Caelia in an irritated whisper. “What is she thinking?”

The King shut his eyes, clearly bothered that what she was saying had a hint of truth to it. While it would have been satisfying to toss this treacherous man to the lions, a slow and agonizing death on the streets seemed more appropriate in a way.

“I… must yield. The Queen speaks the truth. Rejoice now Golan, you snake… You have won a short time of freedom, but do not forget that your days are numbered.”

Tedjek blinked. He and Caelia looked at each other in confusion. What just happened?

With a wave of the King’s hand, the guards took the man out the doors he had been dragged through before, on their way to dump him back onto the streets.

---

That evening, Tedjek stood on his balcony, watching the last sliver of the sun slip beneath the distant rocky outcroppings of the desert. The city of Inmitria laid quietly before him. For many people who lived in Eccahania, this city and the entire Capital Province were a strange land—an almost mystical place where the sunlight seemed to be always golden, where rain hardly fell, and where the only trees were those watered by the nearby, solitary Moniris River.

But to Tedjek, it was basically all he ever knew as his home. He grew up here and played in the sand and dust like everyone else. He could hardly imagine anything different from this.

“Evening, Teddy.”

It took willpower to resist rolling his eyes at his childlike nickname when Tedjek turned to see Caelia standing in his doorway. Her blonde hair had been braided intricately with beads and she had since changed into a more casual dress since the hearing that morning.

“Watching the sunset again?” She came to stand beside him, leaning on the sandstone and metal rails of the balcony. She gazed out at the now pale-yellow westward sky. “Ah, I missed it,” she observed.

“I didn’t pay much attention myself… I had other things on my mind all day.”

“You mean Golan…”

“Why would she make Father let him go?”

Caelia shrugged. “I’ve told you before, Teddy. Women are vastly complicated creatures. No man could ever understand us; it’s something that I personally take pride in. As for Mother, who knows? He was a horrible man, but she was right, he seemed on the brink of death already, if not from starvation then from some kind of disease.”

“Something about it just really bugs me.” Tedjek grit his teeth. “Just thinking about it makes my blood boil for some reason. Like something has been left unresolved and I—…” His voice trailed off suddenly.

Caelia cocked her head. “You what?”

When Tedjek didn’t reply, she crossed her arms.

“What are you scheming at, Teddy?”

He turned to her and gave her a gentle, reassuring smile.

“Sorry, I just… zoned out. Like I said, my head hasn’t been in a good place all day.”

She sighed. “You’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep, I’m sure.” Patting his cheek, she departed toward the door. “See you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Tedjek’s gaze remained on the now darkened sky, with stars already beginning to appear. Caelia was right… A good night’s sleep would help.

---

Boots, being laced up tight; a cloak, black as the night, wrapping around his body and being pulled over his black hair; a sword, handcrafted in the Rayis Forge, finest in all of Eccahania, silently being sheathed at his side…

The figure crouched down low, with emerald eyes barely visible beneath the hood’s hem.

“Sorry, Lia…” Tedjek whispered. “But tonight isn’t one for sleep.”

---

The Prince, utilizing his years of combat and stealth training from the country’s finest teachers, scaled the palace walls with ease, snuck past the guards in the darkness and jumped down into the dust of the street below.

The Royal Family had caught wind of various rebels rising up within the natives of the desert, collectively known as the Mahali. Inmitria itself was a bit of a mixed bag, but Tedjek knew it was crucial to not be recognized—another assassination attempt on a Royal would not look good for them.

The town had deteriorated a bit since Tedjek had remembered as a child, but he still knew his way. It was nighttime so many merchants in the marketplace had gone home, but many city dwellers stayed awake at night, whether to play music, eat, drink, or relax… Tedjek started in the poorer district, hoping to find Golan as the Queen had predicted: among the beggars and homeless. His search came up fruitless however, though he managed to give the beggars some honest alms—some gold or silver coins, which were never-before-seen by some of them.

Feeling discouraged after scouring a good portion of the town, Tedjek realized he was wasting the night but had no more leads. He knew it wouldn’t be smart to just ask random people for a man named Golan…

“Damn it,” he grumbled to himself, clenching his fists. “This city is huge… Did I really expect to find him just by looking?”

He still had some hours before he had to go back, but he felt hopeless…

So much for dishing out street justice, then. He sighed and figured rewarding himself with an ale would be a fitting end to his sad night before he’d sneak back to the palace and try to get as much sleep as he could before the servants woke him up for some obligation he had.

The Rattlesnake was the small tavern he decided to get his drink at. As expected, it was empty except for one worker. Tedjek approached the bar sat down at one stool with a huff.

“Looking for a room or a drink tonight?” the bartender had stopped sweeping something up and stood behind the bar now.

“A drink. Surprise me, but make sure it’s strong,” Tedjek replied, making sure to keep his face hidden under the hood.

“Little late to be drinking, but the money makes no difference to me.”

Tedjek snickered at that but didn’t reply. He handed the bartender his money silently in exchange for a tankard of frothing ale. The bartender nodded and went back to sweeping while Tedjek sipped quietly on his drink.

Suddenly, the front door opened rather loudly and a group of men walked in. Tedjek turned slightly to see who it was—they were some Mahali men, and obviously armored. Immediately a spike of adrenaline sent his hand instinctively to the hilt of his sword but he stayed deathly still. He turned his head away from them, trying to act natural.

“Evening gentlemen,” greeted the bartender. “What can I help you with?”

“We want a cheap room with a view.”

The bartender crossed his arms and nodded.

“Ah, I see. Right this way, then.”

He led them past a door behind the bar leading into a room and returned a few minutes later. Tedjek could hear the men talking to one another, but their voices were muffled through the stone walls.

He realized he had been holding his breath and finally let out a stifled sigh. That was close and extremely uncomfortable. Why were those men armored to their teeth? Were they rebels? Tedjek did not want to stick around to find out. He finished the rest of his ale quickly and stood from his stool.

“Drink was delicious,” he told the bartender dismissively as he hurried toward the door. His hand was on the handle when the bartender spoke up, causing him to freeze.

“Hold up there, mister.”

Tedjek bit his tongue and turned around slowly and forced himself to make eye contact with the bartender across the room.

“The Prince of Eccahania comes to visit my tavern and doesn’t even give me a proper introduction? I thought they’d have taught you better manners.”

Tedjek was at a loss for words. His mouth gaped and his heart was in his throat.

“I—I…”

“Why did you decide to grace the city with your presence, Prince Tedjek? I’m sure it wasn’t just for a midnight stroll, was it?”

“Uh, well, I—…” He was in shambles. He couldn’t find any words to help him.

“No,” the bartender continued. “I’m sure you schlepped out her to the slums because you’re angry… angry that your Father let the man who almost assassinated the Queen go. And it wasn’t going to be just ale that would calm your nerves… you wanted revenge, is that right?”

Tedjek’s eyes widened.

“How.. How do you know about that?”

“And for all the military training you received, you can’t even track one man down? Or shit, you can’t even recognize the very man you want to take revenge on?”

“Recognize…?” He furrowed his eyebrows but then he realized. Now that Tedjek was finally looking at the man directly, he saw. His long sleeves and pants concealed the scars and cuts. His hair had been cut and he was clean-shaven. But his gaze was exactly the same… cold and frightening.

It took his brain a second to process what was happening, but he suddenly he couldn’t let fear or surprise stop him from achieving his goal.

“Golan.” He reached for his sword and ran toward the bartender, who remained still. Tedjek jumped on top of the bar and kicked the man into the back wall, jumped down and pinned him against the stone, the tip of his sword held inches from the man’s throat.

“If you think you can end it here, you’re wrong,” Golan whispered. “You realize I easily could’ve just let you leave, right?”

“It was a deadly mistake not to,” Tedjek snarled. “You deserve to die. You nearly killed my mother.”

At this, the man’s cold eyes softened for a moment.

“I… I did kill your mother, Prince Tedjek.”

“What?”

Golan pursed his lips and whistled loudly. The door to the back room swung open and the armed men emerged and faced the Prince. Fearing they would assail him, Tedjek quickly released Golan but jumped back behind the bar in a defense stance. But instead of drawing their weapons, the men bowed to him… as did Golan.

“What the hell is going on?” he shouted, his cheeks hot from anger. “I thought you were rebels. You… wouldn’t bow to a Royal.”

“You’re wrong, Prince.” Golan smiled. “We are rebels… But we bow to you because you are one of us.”

“One of you?” Tedjek lowered his sword.

“Gods above, are you really so stupid?” Golan pointed at a mirror that was hanging on the wall. “Just look in the mirror! Look at your skin, your hair. There is not one hair of gold on your head, boy! And your skin is tan as leather. Your name—it’s not even Eccahanian!”

Tedjek shook his head, confused. “S-so what? What’re you saying?”

Golan sighed and shook his head. “Tedjek. It’s Mahali for miracle. You are of Royal blood, boy. But that Queen… she is not your mother. The truth is, your father is an unfaithful tyrant.”

The blood rushed away from Tedjek’s head. He felt lightheaded. He dropped his sword and leaned against the table at his side.

“But… they would’ve told me…” he muttered.

“Ha! You think that bitch Queen wants everyone to know she’s raising a child that isn’t even hers? If there’s one thing she does care about, it’s keeping up her appearances.”

“Then… my mother…?”

Again, Golan’s eyes seemed to soften and he looked away, also gazing into the mirror on the wall.

“Ayliana... I… I killed her. It was an accident, though! The Queen tricked me into doing it. No one here in the city knew your mother had been carrying the King’s son all along, except for the Queen. And when she found out, oh you can bet that she wanted your mother dead. And who do you think she came to? Me, the man already in charge of her own assassination. I should have killed the Queen right then and there, but I would’ve been killed myself by Royal Guards soon enough.”

He took a deep breath and continued.

“She told me she had heard whispers about plans to take her life and said she would be leaving the city for a few days with her husband that night and that it would be the perfect opportunity to kill Ayliana. And that’s how it happened. You were due that night, and the King snuck away to be there for your mother… When you were delivered, your father had taken you into another room to clean you off and… Well I knew I had to act fast to kill who I thought was the Queen, and in all the confusion, I…” He choked up. “An arrow. Through the window. I didn’t even know it was her until the next day.” He stopped for a moment and shed a few tears. The other men bowed their heads silently. “She was a good friend… I lament her loss.”

Tedjek looked like he was about to be sick.

“Then why…?”

“Why did the Queen want to release me?” Golan crossed his arms.

“The King certainly wanted be dead, but that Queen is a treacherous bitch. The Queen let me go today because she secretly reveled in the fact that the only woman your father truly loved—Ayliana—was dead. Instead of being announced as a Mahali death, my crime was written up as an attempt on her life to cover up the King’s unfaithfulness. And the Queen…” He held up a large bag and poured out gold coins onto the bar. “She paid me while I was captive in prison. She paid me to keep quiet about her unfaithful husband… and for your mother’s death. It was all to mock me, of course. She knew I was planning to assassinate her. I should’ve suspected her lies; she would never have come to trust a Mahali with such a task. That is why, all these years, I haven’t spent one of these damned coins.”

“So my whole life… they lied to me?” Tedjek reached for his sword and gazed at his reflection in the steel.

“They lied to us all!” Golan shouted. “Look at this city—it’s falling apart from their oppression! Your Father is adulterous, weak, and a poor ruler, and Aggiana is a manipulative woman. Tedjek, did you honestly feel any love from her?”

“I…” His voice faltered. “But my father—”

“Your father may love you, but why do you think there is a rebellion brewing at all? I’m afraid to say he’s a tyrant. There needs to be change.”

“You, Tedjek, are a good man. And one of us. We are not here to hurt you, or to make decisions for you. But everything I just told you is the truth… If you feel you can still sheathe that sword and go back home to those people, then so be it.” He stepped in front of the bar walked slowly up to the confused Prince and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“But the people, your people need your help. If you’re willing to leave your life behind and start anew with us… I can promise that with you on our side, things will turn out for the better.”

Tears brimmed the Prince’s green eyes and painfully he ripped away the royal seal he always wore around his neck underneath his clothes. He tossed it onto the ground and followed the rebels and Golan into the back room.

Men vs. Women Race to 1000

fouuurrtteeeennnn