Kingfisher — Roleplayer Guild

Anything Else:
As the young maid ran into the alleyway to be confronted by the Ghoul, her brother clutching her skirts, she suddenly screamed in terror. An explosion of fire wreathed the alleyway in flame, and the maid uncovered her eyes to see the ghoul scorched and dead. Behind its smoldering remains was a dashing young man with his palm out, in darkly colored robes she would think befit a noble. In truth they were his standard Dalaran robes, and they had seen better days. So had the young man. 

Nathoric grimaced from the heat, and wiped the dirt and sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. "Abominations" he breathed in disgust, and pointed towards the door at their left. "Get inside, quickly!" he ordered her. She didn't need to be asked twice, even lifting her younger brother up and lugging him inside. As they passed him, he could see more clearly towards the mouth of the alley, and the ghouls streaming across the town, ravaging the last remnants of the footmen. Just my luck. I left the cooking pot and fell into the fire. I'll never make to Andorhall at this rate. Still, there was something about this town that tugged at his mage sight. Something elusive... If he lived he'd investigate further.

He began preparing his most devastating spells as he moved forward toward the fray, ready to burst out of the alley with fire and frost and arcane magic. In truth he wasn't that powerful of a mage, even if his magical repertoire and power had increased significantly from surviving through the destruction of the Capital city and its outer lying villages. When he had traveled earlier, he'd only met small packs of Ghouls either licking their wounds or in the midst of combat with ragged humans. The force he saw streaming past him was a wave of enemies unlike any he'd yet seen. Still, he had survived so far. 

The screams of the dying was still mingled with the yells of combat, though they were now much much quieter. Was only one man still alive? No, two men. A younger man and an older, more boisterous fellow. Not about to ask questions, he stepped out into the wider streets. Arcane first, he ordered himself. Purple tendrils of energy arced out of his fingers and struck ghoul after ghoul, knocking down and damaging more than killing them, though 5 lay dead to his satisfaction. Dammit, not enough. He quickly slammed his palms together in a clap, yelling out an arcane word of power in unison. Another explosion of fire rolled over the damaged Ghouls in a wave, and he didn't stick around to fight the rest of the horde, making his way over to the two men and the... quite attractive woman. Where had she come from? He sensed something about her he could not quite put his finger on. 

"Well met." he said, and realized just how tired he was from his magic and travels when even speaking out of combat made him want to fall over and catch his breath. "Is there a position we can defend ourselves in or is this it?"

*By submitting this CS in its completion I am stating I have read all the rules for this Rp and am agreeing to follow them to the fullest with respect and courtesy.@POOHEAD189

Bitch, WHOSE warcraft RP?

Jezebel Wintergerald

Character Summary

Name:
- Jezebel Olivia Wintergerald

Aliases:
- Jezzie
- Jaye

Age:
- 22

Birthday:
- December 27th

Ethnicity:
- Caucasian (English)

Birthplace:
- London, Greater London, UK

Apartment Number:
- 1A – The Regal Building

Gender:
- Female

Major/Minor:
- N/A

Occupation:
- Drug Dealer

Languages:
- English (First Language)

Appearance

Height:
- 5’4

Weight:
- 227lbs

Build:
- Curvaceous 

Eyes:
- Chocolate Brown 

Hair:
- Red Head

Skin Tone:
- Pale

Tattoos/Scars/Piercings:
- N/A

Personal Style:
- Jezebel likes to dress up. She enjoys expensive clothes, and spends a lot of time meticulously crafting each outfit.

Psychology

Cold * Sarcastic * Loner * Cunning

Sexuality:
- Bisexual

Relationship Status:
- Single

Personality:
-  Like most people, Jezebel is a complex and layered individual, with more to her than meets the eye. Her sharp-tongue and black humour often put her at odds with others, and not many people get to see the other side to her. 

In reality, Jezebel is capable of showing great kindness to those she cares about, and is genuinely quite a warm and out-going person. You just need to get through her defenses to see it.

Habits:
- Popping her ears. 
- Cracking her fingers/knuckles.
- Rubbing her eyes.

Hobbies:
- Binge watching television.
- Clubbing. 
- People Watching.
- Trying new things.

Fears:
Becoming completely isolated.
Ending up alone.
Losing her way.

Likes:
Doughnuts.
Fresh Air.
Rain.
MDMA
Camping.
Loud Music.

Dislikes:
School.
Large institutions.
Poor hygiene.
Big groups.
Arrogance.
Hangovers.

Cards On The Table

General World Skills:

Charismatic.
Acting.
Level-headed.
Well-Cultured.
Plays the piano.

Combat Skills:
CCF Training.
Taekwondo red belt.

What Is On Your Person:
Lighter
Swiss Army Knife.
Cigarettes.
Ecstasy.
Colt Python.

Apartment:
Queen Sized Bed
Fridge
Mini Fridge
Laptop
Plasma Screen TV
Wardrobe

History

What Brings You To The City:

Jezebel has lived in Justice for the past few years, having moved there after her parents divorce. 

Life Before You Moved In:
The Wintergerald’s story is quite the tragedy, provided that you think a family of overly indulgent criminals getting their just desserts is a tragedy. Jezebel certainly does. 

The family started off selling munitions to the IRA, during their infamous campaign to create a United Ireland. The money was good, but there was a fortune to be made in trafficking and extortion, both of which looked equally promising to the up-and-coming gangsters. They sold guns, drugs, people, organs, and whatever else they could do to get ahead in the game. 

The UK became their playground, and as they expanded out into the rest of Europe, the Wintergerald’s started raking in the cash like no tomorrow. Having come from humble origins, the Wintergerald family suddenly had a whole lot of money and a want to indulge their darkest desires. 

Fast cars, men, women, exotic fetishes, and expensive foods. They spent cash like crazy, and the Wintergerald money making machine just kept on churning out more and more wealth for them to throw at their new hobbies. 

Until they got sloppy, and the feds caught on. 

The Wintergerald’s Empire collapsed, almost overnight, as the big players ended up behind bars, and their operations got taken over by smaller syndicates.

Years flickered by, and those who evaded capture wallowed in their bitterness, lamenting the lavish lifestyle of days gone by. 

But did they repent for their misdeeds? Not a chance. 

Parading their name around town, and cashing in on their former glory, the Wintergerald’s set themselves up as cocaine dealers. The money wasn’t what it had been, but their lifestyle was still vastly above and beyond that of the average Joe. 

Jezebel was born during the reemergence of the Wintergerald crime family, and has been afforded an extravagant upbringing, full of fancy holidays and expensive clothes.

Her parents got divorced, and Jezebel’s mum won custody. She wanted a fresh start for her and her children, and moved to live with her sister in Justice.

Life Since You Moved In:
Jezebel had a rocky first few years in Justice, but gradually learned to love America. She left education with no real qualifications, and has spent the last few years selling ecstasy to partygoers

Extras

Character Quote: “My brilliance is wasted on you mortals.”

Theme Song: Ain't it Fun- Paramore. 

Dirty Little Secret: Whilst nowadays Jezebel is generally liked by those around her, she wasn’t always amongst such welcoming cohorts. Before her family could afford to live in the more ritzy areas, Jezebel’s upbringing in London was full of bullying and torment, with the sadistic Jim Gagnon being her most hated antagonist. It wasn’t just verbal torments, it was following her after school and hurling stones at her, or waiting around the street corner with a cricket bat on her way home. 

Gagnon’s world revolved around Jezebel, and chiefly causing her misery. His every waking moment was dedicated to making her life a living hell. In truth, Gagnon had feelings for Jezebel which he didn't know how to express, but Jezebel would never know that. 

Jezebel snapped, and Gagnon’s body wound up in an a back alley, with a blunt trauma blow struck across the back of his head. 

The Red Windmill Cafe overlooked a small stretch of corner stores, coffee shops, and barbers, all of which failed to match the cafe’s quaint and homely feel. It did the best dark chocolate mochas in all of Santa Somabra, and served the most authentic full english breakfast that could be found in the US of A.  At least that’s what some guy, who was infact the owner’s husband, on Resteraunt Reviwer .com claimed. To Nyxvira Bloodbloom, the Red Windmill was a just another place to kill time until she heard back from Edmund Jankovics. 

“Okay, I’ve got one,” Ted West, one of the syndicate’s newest Grey Suits, spoke up “Eldaera Summerwind; fuck, marry, or kill?”

“Who the fuck is Eldaera Summerwind?” Razorhallow, a grey-suited Orc who looked like he could kill a fully grown man with a gentle tap, asked with a slight glower, scrunching up his face.

“Where've you been living, old man?” West laughed with a bit too much enthusiasm, making him look more than a little unhinged “She was Sports Illustrated’s hottest light elf of the year two years in the row!” 

“What the fuck is a Sports Illustrated?” Razorhallow asked in confusion. 

“She’s famous because she has big boobs and someone leaked naked pictures of her on the internet.” Nyxie said with a faint air of disinterest, gazing down at the devastated remains of the full english breakfast which sat in front of her. Most authentic full english breakfast my arse.

“Oh,” said Razorhallow “I dunno? Fuck.” 

“Alright, next up…” Ted West gave a flamboyant little wave of his hand“ Riley Russell; fuck, marry, or kill?” 

“Who the fuck is Riley Russell?” Razorhallow asked.

“She’s famous because she has a big bum and she put a video of herself sucking someone’s dick on the internet.” Nyxvira explained helpfully. 

“Oh,” said Razorhallow. “Marry. I’m an ass-man.” 

“The sex tape thing doesn't put you off?” West asked the Orc, giving him a queer look. 

Razorhallow shrugged “My first wife was in porn ‘un she was lovely.” 

The Orc took a small sip of his coffee, rubbing a dark brown stain off of his lips.

“Alright, my turn,” He grinned “Kaylee Kent; fuck, marry, kill?”

Ted West stared at him blankly. 

“I swear you just made that name up.” 

“Oh, fuck off, grasshopper,” He grumbled.

“Excuse me, miss?” 

Nyxie turned, as the owner slipped into view, with her prissy blonde pigtails bobbing behind her. 

“Has everything been to your satisfaction?” 

Does she talk to all her customers like this, or does she know who I am?

“It was nice,” Nyxie managed a smile “Thank you.” 

With that, the owner retreated back behind the counter.

“I’d fuck her.” West said with a grin, as he watched the woman’s pert behind sway from side to side. 

 “Okay, here’s one you’ll know…” Said Razorhallow, once the woman was out of earshot “Taffy Li; fuck, marry, kill?” 

“She’s the chinky bird in Seven-Dollar Shake, right? The only thing I’d bang that with is a shovel!” West snickered to himself “She’s a right porker! Fucking fat bitch-” 

Both pairs of eyes fell upon the enormous fairy next to them, who was easily three times the weight of Taffy Li. 

“Ehrmm...no offense meant, madam.” The human spluttered awkwardly. 

Nyxie’s eyes narrowed into slits. 

“Why would that offend me?” 

“Oh, I just thought that…” West trailed off. 

A long silence fell over the table, with the faerie looking about ready to bash West’s head in. Then, both Nyxie and Razorhallow burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. 

“I do own a mirror, kid!” Nyxie said once she was done laughing, as she struggled to catch her breath “I know I’m no Cara Delevingne.” 

“Oh, speaking of Cara,” Razorhallow chirped up, as he watched Ted West wipe sweat off of his forehead “Fuck, Mary, ki-” 

 BANG! 

The blast of a shotgun ripped through the air, leaving the Red Windmill’s glass windows in pieces on the floor. The two-shot round slammed into Ted West’s chest, blowing his torso into bloody red pulp, and sending him flying off of his chair. He was dead before he hit the floor. 

“Mother fucker!” Razorhallow roared, as he made a grab for his hand-cannon. 

 BANG! 

A second shotgun blast blew off the side of the Orc’s head, painting the restaurant walls with the inside of his skull. 

When the owner tried to run she got gunned down as well.

“Ladies and gentleman! The moment you’ve all been waiting for!”

Nyxie’s frantic gaze flickered away from the corpses of her fallen bodyguards, fixing firmly on the voice which was booming through the cafe’s doorway. 

“In this corner: weighing 175 Pounds, with a record of 17 rapes, 400 assaults, and fuck-knows how many murders, the undisputed, most diabolical villain in the world…” 

The Faerie’s heart fell as she saw a suit-clad figured come striding into the cafe. 

“Concetto Nyctari!” 

The Vampire was flanked by two shotgun wielding vampire goons, and had the decapitated head of Edmund Jankovics clutched loosely in one hand. 

Great job solving all my problems for me, shithead.

Although… 

It was a small, almost unnoticeable detail, but Nyxie could see that Concetto was walking with a slight limp. 

I guess Jankovics wasn’t completely useless. The fact Concetto was still limping meant that his healing factor hadn’t managed to fully fix the wound yet, which left him ever-so-slightly vulnerable. 

“Fancy meeting you here, Nyxie, old gal!” The Vampire grinned “I didn’t know we frequented the same restaurants.” 

“I don’t think I’ll be eating here again.” She said dryly. 

“I don’t think you’ll be eating at all, after this, you chubby cunt,” even with all his giddy showmanship, the acid in Concetto’s voice burned through “the fast food industry might never recover.” 

The Vampire made his way slowly through the Red Windmill, taking the time to savour the moment. He pushed what remained of Razorhallow’s corpse out of its chair, and sat down just to the side of Nyxvira. With his limping leg plainly in her view. 

His two cronies were quick to close the distance between them and their bloodmaster, striding up behind him whilst he took his seat. 

“Little gift for ya.” Concetto grinned, plonking the Vampire Slayer’s head firmly down on the table, so that his dull eyes were staring straight up at her. 

“Did you keep the receipt?” Nyx wondered aloud. 

There was a small twitch at the edge of Concetto’s monstrous grin. 

“Nice joke,” he sneered “just like your organisation.” 

“And your fashion sense.” She shot back. 

“You can’t get out of this with snarky comments, Nyxvira.” Concetto hissed “I’m going to let my men have their fun with you, and then I’m going to slit your fat ,fucking, throat.” 

The Faerie kept her demeanor calm, stopping a single inch of the roaring terror she felt inside her from slipping onto her features. 

“I assumed you’d want in on the fun, Concetto.” She said flatly. 

“You’re not my type, cow.” He leered. 

“Right, sorry. I forgot I don’t have a penis.” 

“How a child like you managed to take over this city is beyond me.” 

“If I was a child, then would you want to fuck me?” 

Concetto let out a guttural snarl like a rabid dog, as he leapt onto his feet and gave the table an almighty shove, sending plates, cutlery, and Edmund’s severed head clattering to the floor.

“YOU. WILL. FEAR ME.” He bellowed, his long fingernails digging into his skin as his fists clenched. 

Nyxvira remained composed whilst she got up from her chair and squared up to the Vampire. 

The Faerie stared down at Concetto, her face a cold, hard mask. 

“You aren’t worthy to lick the dirt from my boots, Vampire. Do what you will. You won’t get my respect, you won’t get my disdain, and you won’t get my fear. You’re no better than the Rats in their holes, and the zombies in their sewers, and nothing you can do to me, or anyone, else will ever change what you are; a frightened, miserable, little casualty.”

Concetto quivered. 

Now. 

Nyxvira brought her foot, and all her immeasurable weight bearing down on the crooked dip of the Vampire’s wounded leg. Not even his healing factor could save him from such a burden. 

Crunch.

 “GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!” 

Concetto screamed, clutching manically at his now twisted leg, his face screwed up in a warped mess of pain. 

His goons darted forwards with the immense speed only vampires could muster, but that didn’t change the fact that they couldn’t reach Nyxvira without gunning down their bloodmaster. 

A sharp shove sent the wailing vampire lord tumbling into his thugs, and gave Nyxie the opportunity to lurch forwards and pry a shotgun free from one of the stunned bodyguard’s hands. 

BOOM!

The Roar of the shotgun was music to the Faerie’s ears, as a thunderous blast of ammunition sent the Vampire who still had a shotgun flying back across the cafe, and tumbling over the counter. 

She didn’t know how many shells the shotgun had, but she knew it wasn’t enough to kill a vampire. 

But I can hurt one.

She aimed the shotgun down at Concetto’s leg. 

BOOM!

Suddenly, the vampires were less concerned with Nyxvira, and more concerned with Concetto as he thrashed about on the floor. 

Nyxie was no sprinter, but she managed to get herself out of the Red Windmill at a decent pace, and was soon off down the street. She’d just slipped into a back alley when her phone started ringing. 

It was Narcissa.

“Milady, I know something is going on. You’ve been having me do reconnaissance on major Nyctari businesses for almost a week now. An explanation might help me know what it is you want me to find.” 

“We’re going to war.” Nyxie huffed, more than a little out-of-breath “Meet me at the Imperius and I’ll explain everything. Now get off the bloody line and let me call a car.”

*By submitting this CS in its completion I am stating I have read all the rules for this Rp and am agreeing to follow them to the fullest with respect and courtesy.

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