I'd be real interested in this. Room for a Phillip Marlowe style former detective on board?
- Last Seen: 7 yrs ago
- Joined: 9 yrs ago
- Posts: 273 (0.08 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- Ulstermann 9 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Simple Unicycle
Status
Recent Statuses
9 yrs ago
Current
Blade Runner
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
I'm definitely Interested!
Name (or known Aliases): Major Tom Carson, SOE Codename ORANGEMAN
Age:43
Nationality: British
Affiliation: British Army, Special Operations Executive
Role: Soldier, Spy, demolitions expert
Appearance:
Personality: Carson is a harsh-voiced officer from Belfast. A loyal subject of the King, his bloody experiences of the fighting against the German Empire in the First World War shaped his personality into a more ruthless and selfish person than he had been. He serves his country as he always has, but he's keeping an eye open to serve himself too.
Service History:
Tom Carson was born in Belfast, Northern Ireland, in May 1900. He grew up in the fiercely loyal enclave of the city, his family being dyed in the wool Protestants. When the Great War rolled over Europe in 1914 he was too young to be called to the colours, which pained him greatly until, lying about his age, he joined the 36th Ulster Division along with many of his mates in January, 1916. He was deployed to France just in time for the Battle of the Somme, which forever changed him. On the first day, as carnage raged around him, he was inspired and horrified in equal measure by the battle-cry of one of his officers leading the men of Ulster over the top; "Come on, boys! Remember the Boyne! No surrender!" Carson survived the battle, and the rest of the war. After peace was declared he found life boring and dull back home, so he moved to Alsace, the newly-French region on the German border. There he became a journalist, learning to speak both German and French. As the march towards war continued inexorably on, Carson had a front-row seat of the rise of the Nazi Party. He even met the Fuhrer during the 1936 Berlin Olympics. His early sympathy for the Nazis as men rebuilding a shattered nation quickly turned to revulsion as their oppression increased. In 1938, shortly before the Munich Agreement, he rejoined the British Army, this time as an officer himself.
It was as a lowly lieutenant that Carson met the Wehrmacht for the first time in combat in France, just before his birthday in May 1940. He fought as well as he could against the German onslaught, and was captured by a German infantryman on the outskirts of Dunkirk shortly after the conclusion of Operation Dynamo, the mass evacuation of British and allied troops from the beaches at Dunkirk. He was only in German hands for a week, escaping from the train taking him to a prison camp in northern Germany. What followed was an epic tale of misdirection and guile as the British officer lived amongst the Germans for almost a year, gathering intelligence and having a ball whilst doing it. It was here that Carson first began to see that the war might just make him rich.
In early 1941 Carson, now a captain, had returned to the UK and was assigned to the Parachute Regiment, where he served for a further year. Finally, in mid-1942, he was approached by a member of the SOE and offered a chance to hit back at the enemy in their own back garden. So, promoted again to Major, Carson began operations for the SOE to help set Europe ablaze.
1916-1918: 36th Ulster Division, France.
1940: Royal Ulster Rifles, British Expeditionary Force.
1941: Paratroop Regiment
1942-1943: SOE
Other: Speaks fluent German and French, having lived and worked in Alsace during the inter-war years.
Age:43
Nationality: British
Affiliation: British Army, Special Operations Executive
Role: Soldier, Spy, demolitions expert
Appearance:
Personality: Carson is a harsh-voiced officer from Belfast. A loyal subject of the King, his bloody experiences of the fighting against the German Empire in the First World War shaped his personality into a more ruthless and selfish person than he had been. He serves his country as he always has, but he's keeping an eye open to serve himself too.
Service History:
Tom Carson was born in Belfast, Northern Ireland, in May 1900. He grew up in the fiercely loyal enclave of the city, his family being dyed in the wool Protestants. When the Great War rolled over Europe in 1914 he was too young to be called to the colours, which pained him greatly until, lying about his age, he joined the 36th Ulster Division along with many of his mates in January, 1916. He was deployed to France just in time for the Battle of the Somme, which forever changed him. On the first day, as carnage raged around him, he was inspired and horrified in equal measure by the battle-cry of one of his officers leading the men of Ulster over the top; "Come on, boys! Remember the Boyne! No surrender!" Carson survived the battle, and the rest of the war. After peace was declared he found life boring and dull back home, so he moved to Alsace, the newly-French region on the German border. There he became a journalist, learning to speak both German and French. As the march towards war continued inexorably on, Carson had a front-row seat of the rise of the Nazi Party. He even met the Fuhrer during the 1936 Berlin Olympics. His early sympathy for the Nazis as men rebuilding a shattered nation quickly turned to revulsion as their oppression increased. In 1938, shortly before the Munich Agreement, he rejoined the British Army, this time as an officer himself.
It was as a lowly lieutenant that Carson met the Wehrmacht for the first time in combat in France, just before his birthday in May 1940. He fought as well as he could against the German onslaught, and was captured by a German infantryman on the outskirts of Dunkirk shortly after the conclusion of Operation Dynamo, the mass evacuation of British and allied troops from the beaches at Dunkirk. He was only in German hands for a week, escaping from the train taking him to a prison camp in northern Germany. What followed was an epic tale of misdirection and guile as the British officer lived amongst the Germans for almost a year, gathering intelligence and having a ball whilst doing it. It was here that Carson first began to see that the war might just make him rich.
In early 1941 Carson, now a captain, had returned to the UK and was assigned to the Parachute Regiment, where he served for a further year. Finally, in mid-1942, he was approached by a member of the SOE and offered a chance to hit back at the enemy in their own back garden. So, promoted again to Major, Carson began operations for the SOE to help set Europe ablaze.
1916-1918: 36th Ulster Division, France.
1940: Royal Ulster Rifles, British Expeditionary Force.
1941: Paratroop Regiment
1942-1943: SOE
Other: Speaks fluent German and French, having lived and worked in Alsace during the inter-war years.
Name (or known Aliases): Major Tom Carson, SOE Codename ORANGEMAN
Age:43
Nationality: British
Affiliation: British Army, Special Operations Executive
Role: Soldier, Spy, demolitions expert
Appearance:
Personality: Carson is a harsh-voiced officer from Belfast. A loyal subject of the King, his bloody experiences of the fighting against the German Empire in the First World War shaped his personality into a more ruthless and selfish person than he had been. He serves his country as he always has, but he's keeping an eye open to serve himself too.
Service History:
1914-1918: 36th Ulster Division, France.
1940: Royal Ulster Rifles, British Expeditionary Force.
1941: Paratroop Regiment
1942-1943: SOE
Other: Speaks fluent German and French, having lived and worked in Alsace during the inter-war years.
Age:43
Nationality: British
Affiliation: British Army, Special Operations Executive
Role: Soldier, Spy, demolitions expert
Appearance:
Personality: Carson is a harsh-voiced officer from Belfast. A loyal subject of the King, his bloody experiences of the fighting against the German Empire in the First World War shaped his personality into a more ruthless and selfish person than he had been. He serves his country as he always has, but he's keeping an eye open to serve himself too.
Service History:
1914-1918: 36th Ulster Division, France.
1940: Royal Ulster Rifles, British Expeditionary Force.
1941: Paratroop Regiment
1942-1943: SOE
Other: Speaks fluent German and French, having lived and worked in Alsace during the inter-war years.
I'm up for this, big time. Never pass up a chance to return to a Galaxy far, far away.
Might be good to get an OOC up? That way we can start putting characters together.
Cool. Would it be too much to ask to introduce another PI into the mix since there's already one? If not I've another character in mind.
Still room for another character in here?
Yeah, definitely interested in this. An SOE operative with a distinctly unhealthy appetite for enriching himself wouldn't go amiss I'm hoping?
In
Southland, Season 1: Casefile #1 "Victor's Justice" (August, 1945)
→
8 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Roleplay
It was Wednesday, August fifteenth. It was warm in Los Angeles. We were working day watch out of Homicide Detail. My partner's Ed Harris. The boss is George Baxter, Chief of Detectives. My name's Kingsley. It was nine thirty-two AM when I arrived at eight-four-seven, Georgia Street- Homicide Bureau.
I crossed the floor of the office, nodding a greeting to the detectives already there. Arriving at my desk I hung up my hat and coat before easing myself into my chair. There was a buzz about the office as the boys made sense of the recent atomic bombing against the Japanese. The consensus seemed to be that the Nips had reaped what they had sown.
I reached into my in-tray and shuffled through the documents there. A couple of reports to finish. Nothing interesting there, just the day-to-day routine of a detective. Harry Barker brought me a coffee on the way back to his desk. I grimaced at the taste of the lukewarm liquid. I lit a Camel and began perusing the first of the follow-up work, a report on hit and run that had resulted in a murder conviction.
Forty-five minutes later Ed Harris, my partner, got back from court where he'd been testifying. “Hey, Art.” He said, collapsing into his chair. “You see that crazy shit? Good ol' Uncle Sam wiped a whole city of those yellow monkeys right off the face of the Earth.” Harris had been on vacation when the bomb had dropped, and he'd been talking about it constantly. I took a drag from my smoke. Harris had been a pilot in the Flying Tigers way back in '38, and had hated the Japs with a passion ever since. Not that I could blame him. “Sure I saw it, Ed.” I answered, hitting a few keys on the typewriter. “They can't keep fighting, right? Not if we can incinerate whole cities with a single bomb.” I blew out a thin stream of blue smoke.
“Never can tell with the Nips.” Harris snorted. “Little bastards are barely human.”
“Hmm.” I said. “Krauts were bad too.”
“Guess so.” Harris didn't seem convinced. “That coffee any good?”
“So-so.” I said. “Could be better, could be worse.” Harris headed off across the office to the pot. Half-way there the “Hot-shot” phone rang. “Got it.” Harris called and grabbed it. “Harris, homicide.” He said into the receiver. “Yeah. Uh-huh. Got it.” He put the phone down. “Ours, Art.” He said. “Triple homicide, alleyway off Oakland Drive.” I stubbed out my smoke and grabbed my hat. “Let's do it.”
We left the office and climbed into our unmarked, a Packard, and peeled away from the kerb. I was driving whilst Harris, smoking one of his long cigars, closed his eyes and enjoyed the sun on his face.
I slowed the Packard as we approached the crime scene, which was in a gloomy alleyway behind an auto repair shop on Oakland Drive. A couple of black-and-whites were blocking off the road, yellow police tape cordoning off the area. A uniform held the tape up and I eased the big sedan underneath, pulling to a stop. Grabbing our hats Harris and I climbed from the car.
“Officer Davis.” One of the uniforms approached us and identified himself.
“Sergeant Kingsley. Homicide.” I answered. “This is Sergeant Harris. What do you have for us?”
Davis led us along the pavement towards the alleyway. “Three victims. Asians, maybe mid to late 40's. Auto shop owner found the bodies when he came to take out the trash half an hour ago.”
“You began canvassing the area?” Harris asked. Davis looked annoyed. “Yes, sergeant.” He said. “We have. So far nothing. It's a quiet area though. Not much traffic at this time of the day.”
“Okay.” I said soothingly. “Good. Keep moving the citizens along, Officer. Where is the auto shop owner?”
“Just round the corner.” Davis said as we came to the spot in the alleyway where three blood-spattered heaps lay. “Jameson is keeping an eye on him.” I nodded distractedly, taking in the scene. “Great. We'll take it from here.”
I crossed the floor of the office, nodding a greeting to the detectives already there. Arriving at my desk I hung up my hat and coat before easing myself into my chair. There was a buzz about the office as the boys made sense of the recent atomic bombing against the Japanese. The consensus seemed to be that the Nips had reaped what they had sown.
I reached into my in-tray and shuffled through the documents there. A couple of reports to finish. Nothing interesting there, just the day-to-day routine of a detective. Harry Barker brought me a coffee on the way back to his desk. I grimaced at the taste of the lukewarm liquid. I lit a Camel and began perusing the first of the follow-up work, a report on hit and run that had resulted in a murder conviction.
Forty-five minutes later Ed Harris, my partner, got back from court where he'd been testifying. “Hey, Art.” He said, collapsing into his chair. “You see that crazy shit? Good ol' Uncle Sam wiped a whole city of those yellow monkeys right off the face of the Earth.” Harris had been on vacation when the bomb had dropped, and he'd been talking about it constantly. I took a drag from my smoke. Harris had been a pilot in the Flying Tigers way back in '38, and had hated the Japs with a passion ever since. Not that I could blame him. “Sure I saw it, Ed.” I answered, hitting a few keys on the typewriter. “They can't keep fighting, right? Not if we can incinerate whole cities with a single bomb.” I blew out a thin stream of blue smoke.
“Never can tell with the Nips.” Harris snorted. “Little bastards are barely human.”
“Hmm.” I said. “Krauts were bad too.”
“Guess so.” Harris didn't seem convinced. “That coffee any good?”
“So-so.” I said. “Could be better, could be worse.” Harris headed off across the office to the pot. Half-way there the “Hot-shot” phone rang. “Got it.” Harris called and grabbed it. “Harris, homicide.” He said into the receiver. “Yeah. Uh-huh. Got it.” He put the phone down. “Ours, Art.” He said. “Triple homicide, alleyway off Oakland Drive.” I stubbed out my smoke and grabbed my hat. “Let's do it.”
We left the office and climbed into our unmarked, a Packard, and peeled away from the kerb. I was driving whilst Harris, smoking one of his long cigars, closed his eyes and enjoyed the sun on his face.
I slowed the Packard as we approached the crime scene, which was in a gloomy alleyway behind an auto repair shop on Oakland Drive. A couple of black-and-whites were blocking off the road, yellow police tape cordoning off the area. A uniform held the tape up and I eased the big sedan underneath, pulling to a stop. Grabbing our hats Harris and I climbed from the car.
“Officer Davis.” One of the uniforms approached us and identified himself.
“Sergeant Kingsley. Homicide.” I answered. “This is Sergeant Harris. What do you have for us?”
Davis led us along the pavement towards the alleyway. “Three victims. Asians, maybe mid to late 40's. Auto shop owner found the bodies when he came to take out the trash half an hour ago.”
“You began canvassing the area?” Harris asked. Davis looked annoyed. “Yes, sergeant.” He said. “We have. So far nothing. It's a quiet area though. Not much traffic at this time of the day.”
“Okay.” I said soothingly. “Good. Keep moving the citizens along, Officer. Where is the auto shop owner?”
“Just round the corner.” Davis said as we came to the spot in the alleyway where three blood-spattered heaps lay. “Jameson is keeping an eye on him.” I nodded distractedly, taking in the scene. “Great. We'll take it from here.”
© 2007-2024