Little Bill

» ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪsᴏ

Rush

<!Open_Rush.pers//Decrypting::
<<--Name//RUSH_SO_FINE
<--ERROR{Name cannot be opened. Unknown Error.
<<--Age//666-420-6969
<--ERROR{Age cannot be opened. Unknown Error.
<<--Gender//MAN_OF_MYSTERY
<--ERROR{Gender cannot be opened. Unknown Error.
<<--Nationality//PLS_STAND_4_ANGOLAN__NATIONAL_ANTHEM.mp3
<--ERROR{Nationality cannot be opened. Unknown Error.

<<--Occupation//SUPERSONIC_GANGSTER_NUMBA1
Rush lacks an official occupation, or an official identity for that matter, though his most recently stolen identity chip is that of a 52 year old banker. As a result, a quick scan would reveal Rush to be an employee of GeluCo Investments, though nothing could be further from the truth. In reality, Rush is the leader of the Headhunters MC, a motorcycle gang in the Lower District comprised of roughly four dozen teenagers and young adults. While this position lacks any extra duties or responsibility, the power that comes with it gives Rush control of the actions of approximately thirty hoodlums. He uses this power primarily to steal stereos.

While lacking any true territory or businesses, the Headhunters are nonetheless feared for their savagery by citizens of the Lower District trying to get by, and cataloged as a legitimate thorn in the side of larger criminal organizations and their business dealings. They are frequently likened to hyenas, buzzards, and other scavengers for their proclivity to interrupt and take over the robberies and heists of other criminals, which they accomplish through their turbocharged motorcycles, use of hacked Lower District security cameras, and guns.

<<--Place of Residence//DA_CAVE
Rush lives in the Headhunters HQ, which is an abandoned water treatment facility in the Lower District. The blocks surrounding it, while unguarded by scouts of any sort, is easily considered to be one of the worst neighborhoods in the Lower District -- Flaming oil drums light the street alongside the black skeletons of exploded cars, bodies of the dead lean against the same walls and fences as the strung-out and unconscious homeless, and mothers pushing carriages tightly grip cans of mace to fend off packs of wild dogs and roving gangs. If the police were looking for the Headhunters in their neighborhood, they would have a legal obligation to attend to the dozen visible felonies happening on any given block first.

<<--Cybernetics//GOGO_GAJETCOK
Rush is covered in cybernetic enhancements of various quality and legality, though his refusal to ever remove his helmet conceals this considerably. His eyes are augmented with a cybernetic HUD, which is in turn connected to his wrists -- this allows Rush to perform subconscious microadjustments to his steering and level of acceleration, which gives him the reflexes necessary to make breakneck turns that would not be possible if his eyes sent information to his brain at a human's regular speed. To Rush, riding a motorcycle does not seem very fast, the rest of the world simply seems very slow.

Additionally, Rush has outfitted himself with augmentations ranging from frivolous, such as a speech-to-text commlink on his helmet to communicate over the rev of engines, to downright lethal, such as his "Wrist Rocket" model single-shot self-defense device, a considerably illegal type of concealed offensive augmentation. Rush claims to have a bionic penis capable of storing 2 Terabytes of information, though his absence of any close relationships and apparent lack of a sex drive leaves this claim uncorroborated.

<<--Bio//ALL_BY_MYSELF_:(
Rush's identity is completely unknown at this time, with his alibi and the rumors surrounding it being a better lead to his history than searching the Databahn for documentation of his existence. He has worn masks -- particularly motorcycle helmets -- longer than anyone has known him, and steals, alters, trades, and creates identities on a weekly basis. As all information gathered about him amounts to the corroborations and rumors of criminals and informants, the police department's file on him is still in the earliest stages of development.

Earliest stories within the Lower District's back alleys state that Rush fled the Van Herschold Orphanage at the age of twelve, at which point he b

<<--Past//Open_PRec.Rush//Decrypting:ERROR{Exec_3y3Prov2.5.1//Decrypting:ERROR{Receiving::

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^{𝕀 𝔽𝕆𝕂𝕂𝔼ℕ} ℂ 𝕌 _{ℂ𝕌ℕ𝕋𝕊}

_{𝕎ℍ𝕐 𝔽𝕆ℝ 𝕐𝕆𝕌 𝔸ℝ𝔼 ℝ𝔼𝔸𝔻𝕀ℕ𝔾 𝔸𝔹𝕆𝕌𝕋 ℝ𝕌𝕊ℍ??? 𝕍𝔼ℝ𝕐} 𝕊ℕ𝔼𝔸𝕂𝕐,,

ℕ𝕆𝕎 𝟚 𝔽𝕀ℕ𝔻 𝕆𝕌𝕋 𝕋ℍ𝔼 𝕊ℚ𝕌𝔼𝔸𝕃𝔼ℝ,,

𝕀 ℍ𝕆ℙ𝔼 ℂ𝕆𝕄ℙ𝕌𝕋𝔼ℝ ℕ𝕆𝕋 𝔼𝕏ℙ𝔼ℕ𝕊𝕀𝕍𝔼 𝟜 𝕌 𝔹𝕌𝔻𝔻𝕐

<--Exec_GAAN_NAAI_JOU_MAMA.exe//ERROR{File Not Found--ERROR{File Not Found--ERROR{File Not Found--
<--ERROR{Sys_Settings.sys cannot be opened. Unknown Error.
<--ERROR{Sys_Mem.sys cannot be opened. Unknown Error.
<--A problem has been detected and your interface has been shut down to prevent damage to your terminal.
The problem seems to be have been caused by the following file: RUSHDIK_SOBIG.Sys
If this is the first time you have experienced this problem, please restart your terminal.
If the problem continues, follow these steps:
ERROR{GAAN_NAAI_JOU_MAMA
ERROR{GAAN_NAAI_JOU_MAMA
ERROR{GAAN_NAAI_JOU_MAMA

A 1940's Pulp Adventure (Indiana Jones/The Rocketeer/The Mummy inspired)

+1 Application Process
Would all applicant characters have to be American?

C R A W L

>Shoot Hellbats D1 and D2

C R A W L

@Mae Yes.

Checking an idea - Silver Age superhero RP with randomized powers

@Clever Hans PM'd you.

Post a random fact about yourself.

I have spent a weekend in jail under an alias.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛

Rats in the Mall

Clan Whitepelt

_History

The oldest history of Clan Whitepelt is known only to the Elders, illustrated in elaborate etchings into the permafrost of their chamber. Their earliest history, on their most tattered banner, is of Pearlpelt-Riplips. Pearlpelt was their clan founder, an intrepid genius categorized in their history somewhere between a brilliant scientist and half-mad wizard, who was said to have had personal correspondence with Ironclaw-Catslayer. It is unknown when, but at some point, Pearlpelt discovered the fortress of Frostkeep, where he would break away from Ironclaw's pack to found his own; The Whitepelts.

Frostkeep, though cursed to forever remain entrapped in a shivering winter, had food for a thousand-thousand rats, and a tremendous steel door separating it from the rest of the world. After discovering how to control its door through what is now known as "Wiremagicks", Pearlpelt went on to populate Frostkeep with a harem of whitepelts, who went on to make more whitepelts, who would mate with one another to create yet more Whitepelts. If pups who grew old enough for their first-furs found that they lacked their clan's pure white coat, they were simply discarded into the Rottpits, given to the Shrikklik for food, soldiers, or whatever they did. This is the way the Whitepelts have been since they called themselves Whitepelts. From the oldest Elder to youngest pup, they know no other way.

_Leadership

The Whitepelts are ruled by a council of a dozen elders, who live at the highest point of Frostkeep in the coldest compartment, which is said to be conducive to their philosophizing and debates. They are called the Elders of Amerikooler Copyright 2006, for the large writing that was embossed above their chambers by The Creators, though they are almost always simply called the Elders. They are replaced by the wisest civilian rats when they are inevitably taken by the cold, but their pelts are added to the giant blanket shared by council members. Second to the Elders is the Whitepelt War-King, who is simply the strongest living Whitepelt, replaced by whoever is strong or skilled enough to defeat them in physical combat. The position is currently held by Vask Backbreaker, stylized as The Honorable War-King Vask Backbreaker, The Cold Hammer, Protector of Frostkeep, Taker of a Thousand Tails, Slayer of Stinker Blackgums.

_{Territory and Resources}

The treasures of Frostkeep -- frozen vegetables, towering slabs of carcasses hundreds of times the size of rats, towers of boxed feasts of every imaginable kind -- kept Clan Whitepelt alive for generations during their founding, though their reserves ran out years ago. Instead, they now use their icy fortress to store food they have stolen or traded for, eating it when food is scarce or trading it in years to come, when it is rarer and goes for a better price. They hold a treasure called The Last Creamsickle, which is kept in the chamber of their council, to sustain them with small but rejuvenating licks, and frequently manufacture and trade ice with other clans. Their sole territory is Frostkeep, though there are pockets of The Mall where their raiders, traders, and slavers frequent, which are accordingly avoided by anything smaller than a squirrel. As a result, they are frequently contacted with messages by bird or squirrel before they are sought out.

_{Culture and Faith}

Clan Whitepelt is among the most hated of Clan-Packs in the Mall. Some can't get along with the pompous rats near the roof, others try to avoid the strange rats who dwell within the Deep, but nobody likes the Whitepelts. Their culture is based on a belief that they are intrinsically superior to all other rats for their albino uniformity, painting their interactions with other clans in a veneer of disdainful superiority. They use their frozen keep to trade goods when they are rare in order to drive up their prices, and they enslave outsider rats and mice alike, viewing them as practically the same thing. Interestingly, they take in foreign albino rats who are willing to renounce their ways and become indoctrinated to their ways, while they keep albino mice as leashed pets. As mentioned, nobody likes the Whitepelts.

The beliefs of Clan Whitepelt leave little room for beings higher than themselves, though they generally escape outright extermination due to their beliefs having quasi-Creator worshiping roots. They believe in the Creators, though this is about as far as their religion goes in terms of inclusivity. They believe the Whitepelts were created to aid the Creators, and that now that the Creators were gone, the Whitepelts are the last remnants of their Empire. Additionally, due to the belief that they were created for the Creators, the Whitepelt afterlife is known as The Hearthfield, a warm, endless springtime field of grain where the Whitepelts who die either in battle or in service to the elders spend eternity with the Creators themselves, in the plane they have created to escape the horrors of their old world.

_{Army and Warriors}

Clan Whitepelt's army, much like the rest of its culture, is based on a blind faith that they are linked to the creators, that they are intrinsically better than other rats, and complete uniformity. They make use of spears and thin armor made from cardboard tempered by water and ice, and rely on strongly organized formations. Specifically, Clan Whitepelt is known for its wave tactics, sending tight rows of spearmen eager to see their warrior's afterlife, in order to box enemies into corners where they are killed or enslaved. Aside from the military, the Whitepelts have evolved a martial culture based on raiding in order to keep Frostkeep's stock of preserved goods high. The clan does not accept pups as adults until they have added something of value to Frostkeep's stockpile.

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RICHNESS 3

_{Frostkeep has allowed the Whitepelts to store surplus food for years, as well as trade ice. Slaves perform all menial labor, allowing Whitepelts not stationed as slavemasters the free time to raid, trade, and scavenge for food.}

MILITARY 3

_{Clan Whitepelt's army mostly relies on organized rows of phalanxes, and a cultural belief in destiny and a warrior's afterlife if these phalanxes fail. Aside from their standing army, the harsh martial culture followed by the Whitepelts ensures they are almost always armed.}

POPULATION 3

_{Aside from the many rats within Frostkeep and their slaves, there are many small packs of Whitepelt traders, bandits, and slavers within the Mall. Their only true territory is Frostkeep, though the hallway leading to it is avoided by anything with sentience. The surrounding area is only unofficially their territory,
decorated with their sigil graffiti'd across random surfaces, though those quick, stealthy, or foolhardy enough manage to steal armfuls of their crops every few fortnights.}

CONTROL 3

_{Due to their cultlike teachings, the elders and war-king maintain absolute control over the Whitepelts, though the Whitepelts are outnumbered by slaves who are double their number.}

KNOWLEDGE 3 - 1 = 2

_{Aside from the use of Wiremagicks to open Frostkeep's door, the Whitepelts have a thin grasp of technology, and are fairly barbaric for all their trappings of civillization.}

FEROCITY 5

_{The Whitepelts are hated for their belief of superiority, but feared for their savagery. They frequently enslave captured enemies, using them for menial labor, food, or clothing to protect from their cold environment. The hall leading to Frostkeep is decorated with the crucified remains of hundreds of rats, which serve as a grim warning. Their weapons and armor are decorated with bones, their blades are tipped with the feces and offal of their diseased thralls, and their prowess in battle is known on each floor.}

Half-Feral +1

_{The Whitepelts are universally hated for their pompous nature, practice of rat-slavery, and deceitful ways. Rats are only willing to trade with them when they need to.}

Unruly Smalls +2

_{Given that they keep captured mice and rats as slaves alike, there is a slowly-growing uprising movement within the ranks of the Whitepelt's many, many thralls.}

Exraticated by Creators/Fire +3

_{While acknowledging that something created The Mall, Whitepelts believe they are the chosen ones of that something. Naturally, zealous rats don't take kindly to that, be they followers of the Creators or believers of the Faith of Fire.}

C R A W L

>Take a single step back and pop a cap in this demon's ass

C R A W L

>Take it on the chin