MiddleEarthRoze

The Real World: Welcome to Miami

I'm pretty busy today so won't be able to send PMs out to everyone until tomorrow; unless you already have an idea in mind for how your character will react to Garrett, in which case feel free to send me a PM and I'll do my best to reply!

The Real World: Welcome to Miami

Garrett Miles

_{"You fuckin' druggo."}

---

---

Name:

Garrett Jacob Miles

Nickname:

No nicknames. Some of his old friends occasionally dubbed him Crocodile Dundee because of his accent, but it never really stuck. He didn't have the knife to deserve the nickname anyhow.

Date of Birth:

13/08/1993

Age:

23

Gender:

Male

Sexuality:

Pansexual

Relationship Status:

Single

Sexually Active:

When he can get it, sure.

Occupation:

Drifter; jumps from part-time job to part-time job, depending on what takes his fancy. So far he's been a fry-cook, busboy, hand model, babysitter, dog-walker, lifeguard, horse-riding instructor, snow-boarding instructor, Disk Jockey at the local radio station, sales assistant in a retro music store, sales assistant in a modern music store, roadie for Aerosmith, and a tutor in world history. That's to name a few.

Hometown:

Colorado, Crested Butte. However, has lived in Bremer Bay (WA), Australia for most of his life.

Ethnicity:

Caucasian; White-American.

In Depth Appearance:

If it weren't for his ever-permanent grin and bright eyes, Garrett could be quite the intimidating individual; standing at a towering 6'5 with broad shoulders and toned muscles, he's got the body of your stereotypical jock. Said toned body is littered with a lovely mish-mash of scars – one doesn't live the reckless life he has without receiving more than a few, after all. Most are across his torso, sides and arms and legs; while great in number, not many are particularly large or deep. Scrapes from long ago still on knees and elbows; old keyhole operations to re-set bones smattered across his forearms; white gashes on his knuckles from wounds that never properly healed before being re-opened; a number of pin-pricks in the crooks of his elbows from where he'd shot up in the past. The biggest is probably a bite mark on the left of his torso, sustained from a rather vicious guard dog when he and his friends had trespassed in a junk yard as a dare when he was younger.

However, his face has remained unmarred from most scars or blemishes, really. There is a small one atop his head (received from climbing a tree or something when he was a clumsy kid), but it's hidden behind thick, wavy hair – depending on how much sun it's seen and how short it is, the colour can range from a rich honey brown to a coppery, dark blonde. His fringe is usually swept upwards, allowing his slim brows and bright blue eyes to be seen quite clearly.

In terms of style and grooming, Garrett doesn't put a lot of effort into looking good – his hair is easily tameable; usually running a hand through it will relieve him of a bedhead; it's rare to see his chiseled jawline covered in stubble – not much of it grows, and when it does, it's gone. He couldn't cope with a beard, no matter how awesome it would look. As for clothes, he just wears the usual casual stuff; tennis shoes or boots, jeans, t-shirts, etc. Garrett also has an abundance of cotton sweaters and hoodies in varying colours, preferring to wear them as opposed to an actual coat when the weather turns. He's not one to get cold, as you could tell be how often he walks around shirtless. (Usually when he rolls out of bed, is celebrating his favourite soccer team winning, or is really getting into a passionate rock song or something; the latter usually accompanied by a wild air guitar, headbanging, jumping on tables, and several items thrown at him from pissed-off spectators, annoyed by his terrible singing.) One thing he does keep on him at all times is a braided leather bracelet – totally battered and worn, but still sturdy enough to stay in one piece. It was given to him by his sister before she left, so he won't let it go.

Hobbies:
☼ Sketching/Doodling
☼ Horse-Riding, when he gets the chance.
☼ Practising the arts of Kendo and Brasilian Jiu Jitsu

Habits:
☼ Constantly checking Pokemon Go.
☼ Chewing gum.
☼ Bursting into song... regardless of whether it sounds good or not.

Likes:
☼ Korean Barbecue
☼ The Ocean and beaches
☼ Driving fast
☼ Snakes
☼ Getting high
☼ People comfortable in themselves
☼ Hot weather
☼ Video games - particularly the jumpscaring ones.
☼ Nintendo
☼ Asian cuisine; be it Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese, or Indian

Dislikes:
☼ Modern Art
☼ The downsides of getting high
☼ The possibility that he's addicted to drugs, and they control him rather than the other way round.
☼ The thought that if his sister were alive now, she would be so disappointed in him.
☼ People who try too hard to be "special" or "different".
☼ Cold weather
☼ Getting too close to a romantic partner
☼ Bourbon; c'mon man, if you're going to drink whiskey, at least get the decent stuff.
☼ Coffee

Fears:
☼ Accidentally overdosing/Losing himself to the drugs
☼ Intimacy; letting anyone too close to his heart in case it goes terribly wrong

Personality:

If one were to meet Garrett for the first time, and be in a room with him for five minutes, you could easily come to the conclusion of "moron". He does stupid things for no apparent reason – if someone asked him to headbutt a wooden wall to see if he could bust all the way through, he'd probably go for it. He's the guy who would dive off a cliff if somebody said it would be fun; and that's not a random suggestion, he has actually done that. Plenty of times. Not to mention the lack of seriousness hanging about him – the near constant stream of jovial comments, jokes, puns and sarcasm gives one the impression that he's without a care – or brain cell – in the world.

However, he isn't stupid – he just doesn't care to think about the consequences of his actions, instead electing to throw himself head first into most situations. Including speaking, so he can say rather blunt things without thinking about people's feelings beforehand, while not intentionally being mean, he can sometimes come across as such. Regardless of what his parents might say, or even his friends – if something piques his interest he'll give it a go, no matter the potential danger. Even after losing his sister, he's retained this way of thinking, perhaps being even more reckless at times; not only is adrenaline a good distraction from other, more damaging addictions of his, but he lost a certain amount of caring for his well-being when he lost Andy. Sometimes he thinks that if he weren't like this, then he could have followed in her footsteps and stopped everything from happening... or he could have died too. But then, he wouldn't be Garrett either. So he lives with it cheerfully, for the most part; and he is a cheerful person. There isn't much that can bring him down – but this is not always to his advantage. Any psychologist could see his constant state of optimism and humour is just a defence mechanism; bringing on forms of denial when it comes to bad things. This in turn has lead to procrastination in his jobs; a "mañana-mañana" sort of attitude when it comes to his responsibilities. While having never been fired from a job for slacking, he sometimes waits too long to look for a decent job, then running out of money and panicking to find a place that will hire him before becoming a vagrant.

His deniability doesn't just stop there though – there are many things in his life that he hasn't truly accepted. On the outside, it may just seem like he's okay with it, but in all honesty, he isn't. His sister's death is severely repressed, alongside a certain denial surrounding his drug habit. All the time he thinks that it wouldn't hurt to try just a little bit of weed to relax, but the thought of descending into that maddening spiral again is enough to put him off... for now, at least. The temptation grows every day, and while he'll laugh and joke with his friends, having a few lagers and pretending everything is fine, that little voice tells him to bring back that dark side. Well... he considers it to be dark; losing one's self control is a concerning thing. However, it should be noted than when high - or more commonly these days, drunk - he's never been violent. Dubbed a "happy drunk", Garrett is more likely to hurt you with a hug when he's had one too many pints than to get aggressive. He may even spill out a few heartfelt truths about a crush, if he gets drunk enough. When sober, if reminded of this, it will naturally get laughed off. But under this jovial, joke-cracking exterior, Garrett has all the normal feelings and emotions of any other person. He's just not one to wear his heart on his sleeve.

Background:

Garrett and his twin sister Candice were born on Friday the 13th. Is this starting like a horror story? Yes - but Garrett will tell anyone who laughs at the superstitious date his birth fell upon that he and his sister were never cursed, or demon children, or even the Anti-Christ. Can you imagine that? Not one, but two children of Satan? As if twins weren't already annoyingly inconvenient for parents. But were they unlucky? Yes... he supposes they were quite unlucky, at least as they approached adulthood. As for growing up, Garrett and Candice (Who swiftly learnt to hate her name and go by Andy instead) had it pretty normal. While born in their mother's native America, the family relocated to Australia not soon after the twin's birthday due to new job opportunities for their father; being as young as they were, they didn't really notice the move and grew up quite happily in their new home down under.

As the twins progressed through school, it became clear that one was doing better than the other. While both of them being both very keen at sports and proficient in them, Garrett's grades were steadily slipping academically while Andy was doing extremely well across the board. Soon, all Garrett was getting passes in was art, sport, and history - he insisted he wasn't stupid, he just found everything else too boring to listen to. After several bouts on punishment by his parents and teachers - which didn't really help him want to learn, if anything he became less likely to try in class - Andy began helping him with his studies. Simply on the basis of she and him wanting to stick by each other through everything, she explained he'd have to work harder if they wanted to go through life together as they'd always planned. Realising (somewhat reluctantly) that she was right, Garrett put in the bare, minimum effort to get his grades back up to standard. It didn't take much; as he'd already stated to his parents, he wasn't stupid, he was just bored. In fact, by the time he was 14 (now in secondary school), he was offering tutoring for the other students in history. Provided they paid him, that was.

By the time the pair had reached the age of 17, they had left school and unsure of what to do next. Well, Garrett was unsure. Andy had a plan; a plan she'd been thinking over for a good few years. Wanting to follow in her mother's footsteps, she told a surprised Garrett that she was wanting to join the Marines - the US Marines, that was. More than happy to follow in his sister's footsteps, the pair told their parents of their plan, and were soon jetting off to the States for a new, exciting life in the Marine Corps.

Except Garrett didn't. Didn't pass the requirements, that is - apparently he'd failed his "moral aptitude" test, which even he thought was understandable. He wasn't the most morally perfect person in the whole world; and he greatly disliked having orders barked at him. In hindsight, the Marines was probably not the greatest choice for a free spirit like himself. As for Andy, she had passed with flying colours, and was already being considered for the Intelligence programme she had applied for. While concerned for her wellbeing, Garrett was swollen with pride over his hard-working sister, telling her to go for it. He would take the time to get some part-time work here and there; exploring America as he went. Although they would be apart for a while, he would be there for her when she got back from her training - and before she went on a tour.

From here, Garrett did exactly that - bouncing around from state to state, he had plenty of skills to get jobs wherever took his fancy, as long as it didn't require a college degree. He took in new sights, learnt new things, made new friends, made love with new people, and tried to keep in touch with his sister and parents as much as he could. It was an easy enough life for a few years. But at the age of 21, it seemed that birthday of Friday the 13th finally caught up to him. Having just been a regular day, he couldn't understand the grief-stricken phone-call from his mother, fighting past her sobs to break the news to him. When she finally broke down and his father took over, Garrett's mind and body seemed to have gone numb as the message finally sank in. Killed in action? Andy? No... he would have felt it, he would have felt something. There were all these documentaries and TV shows about people feeling their twin's grief or pain from miles and miles away, he would have felt the same thing, right?

Understanding - real understanding - only came to him at the funeral. Even on the flight from the States back home was met with some slight denial. Everyone from his extended family seemed to be there; great-aunts and third cousins that he'd only ever met at his christening as a baby. They all said the same things; "So sorry for your loss..." and "At least she died doing what she loved..." But how could they know that? Andy loved surfing and barbecues and crappy jewellery; she loved petting dogs and cooing at sloth videos and ruffling Garrett's hair whenever he did something stupid. These strangers dressed in black didn't know a damn thing about her, or about him for that matter. The soldiers present didn't make him feel much better either. When told that Andy had died to save others, or had won a posthumous award for her bravery, he sourly wished that the others had died. He knew this was selfish of him to think, that it wasn't doing anything for Andy's memory - but he didn't care. He'd stopped caring about a lot of things when Andy died.

After a too-long military funeral, with the flag folded and handed to his pale-faced mother; everyone jerking in the seats at the sharp crack of each blank round fired - Garrett skipped the reception afterwards, heading back to his childhood home to be alone. He couldn't stand anymore people he barely knew hugging him and telling him it would get better. By the next day, he had packed his things and guiltily told his parents he was going back to America - he couldn't stand to stay here, not with all the memories. When they told him that they understood, and dropped him off at the airport with tight, lingering hugs and kisses wet with tears, he felt even worse at abandoning them. He promised to stay in touch, to look after himself, to promise to come home if things got too much for him... but he lied.

Garrett went straight back to his drifting ways, but it wasn't as hopeful or enjoyable as before. It was as if he was looking or searching for something, but he couldn't even find it - he remained empty as he bounced from state to state. It didn't take long for him to try and fill that hole with alcohol, and eventually drugs. It started off small; a puff of a bong here, a spliff there. But then a friend introduced him to ecstasy. When the ecstasy stopped working as well as it used to, he turned to acid. When the acid freaked him out too much, he tried some cocaine offered to him. It was a seemingly endless spiral downwards, trying new things to try and feel better - and it worked, for a while. But when the high disappeared, he felt darker and more depressed than ever. Contact with parents descended from regular phone calls to postcards, just to let them know he was alive and working... they couldn't tell how close to the edge of hopelessness he was from just writing.

His drug habit continued for a year or so, before landing a job in some stables in Colorado, the very state he was born in. It was a 6 month contract, meaning he'd have to stay there a bit longer than usual - which he didn't mind, considering how much he enjoyed horse-riding. While working there, he got to ride horses for when they needed extra exercising - the only downside was the owner. A sharp-witted fellow, he caught on to Garrett's issues straight away. Rather than turning him down for the job, he decided to give him a chance, what with seeing that the boy was really trying to better himself, to try and stop the total control of drugs. Gently persuaded by his boss, he took up classes in the nearby town for Kendo. The boss himself partook in the modern martial art, stating that it was a fine way to exercise and discipline yourself. On top of this, he picked up Brazilian jiu jitsu - a sport he had begun back in Australia as a kid, but had abandoned when coming to the states. Both martial arts proved to work some kind of magic in Garrett; he excelled in both of them, learning to turn to practice and exercise whenever a craving hit him or whenever he got down. The endorphins released from exercise did wonders for curing his sour moods, along with something introduced into his life that he hadn't felt in a while; hope. The hope that he could turn this around, that he could make something of himself and make Andy - and his parents - proud. Even when his contract came to an end, he remained in Colorado, continuing with this cleaner, healthier lifestyle in the hopes that he wouldn't relapse again.

Eventually, he grew bored of staying in the same place, and moved on once again. Landing in California, he heard of the auditions for The Real World in some bar he was hoping to get a job at. He'd seen it on TV a few times, but what with never being one for reality TV, hadn't invested much thought into it. However, to actually take part in the show would be interesting; not only could it possibly open up future job prospects, Garrett figured he could even make some actual permanent friends. Either way, it wouldn't hurt to audition for it. As it happened, the interview process was easily the most straight-forward one he'd ever had in his life; in which acting like himself was making him more likely to get a spot on the show. An Australian surrounded by yanks? The producers obviously thought that would make for a breath of fresh air, so they recruited him. Garrett was surprisingly excited for it - it would prove to be entertaining for himself, at the very least. Also, it was free rent for a while. He could put up with the cameras for that.

Miscellaneous:

Brooklyn 99 has got to be a current favourite of mine. Sweet Jesus, I love that show.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

I've decided on which character I'll use outside of FoC, but will probably do it tomorrow or the day after. In the meantime, I was bored so I made a FoC Bingo card for some shits and giggles. @Frizan helped.

Into The Dark: Mercenaries (Heroes of Fame and Fortune)

@rush99999

Ah, yes. No worries - Lis is versed in a manner of monsters thanks to her time in Bania, so she'll still be able to give out the same advice.

The Real World: Welcome to Miami

@HushedWhispers

Garrett

_{"You fuckin' druggo."}

---

---

Name:

Garrett Jacob Miles

Nickname:

No nicknames. Some of his old friends occasionally dubbed him Crocodile Dundee because of his accent, but it never really stuck. He didn't have the knife to deserve the nickname anyhow.

Date of Birth:

13/08/1993

Age:

23

Gender:

Male

Sexuality:

Pansexual

Relationship Status:

Single

Sexually Active:

When he can get it, sure.

Occupation:

Drifter; jumps from part-time job to part-time job, depending on what takes his fancy. So far he's been a fry-cook, busboy, hand model, babysitter, dog-walker, lifeguard, horse-riding instructor, snow-boarding instructor, Disk Jockey at the local radio station, sales assistant in a retro music store, sales assistant in a modern music store, roadie for Aerosmith, and a tutor in world history. That's to name a few.

Hometown:

Colorado, Crested Butte. However, has lived in Bremer Bay (WA), Australia for most of his life.

Ethnicity:

Caucasian; White-American.

In Depth Appearance:

If it weren't for his ever-permanent grin and bright eyes, Garrett could be quite the intimidating individual; standing at a towering 6'5 with broad shoulders and toned muscles, he's got the body of your stereotypical jock. Said toned body is littered with a lovely mish-mash of scars – one doesn't live the reckless life he has without receiving more than a few, after all. Most are across his torso, sides and arms and legs; while great in number, not many are particularly large or deep. Scrapes from long ago still on knees and elbows; old keyhole operations to re-set bones smattered across his forearms; white gashes on his knuckles from wounds that never properly healed before being re-opened; a number of pin-pricks in the crooks of his elbows from where he'd shot up in the past. The biggest is probably a bite mark on the left of his torso, sustained from a rather vicious guard dog when he and his friends had trespassed in a junk yard as a dare when he was younger.

However, his face has remained unmarred from most scars or blemishes, really. There is a small one atop his head (received from climbing a tree or something when he was a clumsy kid), but it's hidden behind thick, wavy hair – depending on how much sun it's seen and how short it is, the colour can range from a rich honey brown to a coppery, dark blonde. His fringe is usually swept upwards, allowing his slim brows and bright blue eyes to be seen quite clearly.

In terms of style and grooming, Garrett doesn't put a lot of effort into looking good – his hair is easily tameable; usually running a hand through it will relieve him of a bedhead; it's rare to see his chiseled jawline covered in stubble – not much of it grows, and when it does, it's gone. He couldn't cope with a beard, no matter how awesome it would look. As for clothes, he just wears the usual casual stuff; tennis shoes or boots, jeans, t-shirts, etc. Garrett also has an abundance of cotton sweaters and hoodies in varying colours, preferring to wear them as opposed to an actual coat when the weather turns. He's not one to get cold, as you could tell be how often he walks around shirtless. (Usually when he rolls out of bed, is celebrating his favourite soccer team winning, or is really getting into a passionate rock song or something; the latter usually accompanied by a wild air guitar, headbanging, jumping on tables, and several items thrown at him from pissed-off spectators, annoyed by his terrible singing.) One thing he does keep on him at all times is a braided leather bracelet – totally battered and worn, but still sturdy enough to stay in one piece. It was given to him by his sister before she left, so he won't let it go.

Hobbies:
☼ Sketching/Doodling
☼ Horse-Riding, when he gets the chance.
☼ Practising the arts of Kendo and Brasilian Jiu Jitsu

Habits:
☼ Constantly checking Pokemon Go.
☼ Chewing gum.
☼ Bursting into song... regardless of whether it sounds good or not.

Likes:
☼ Korean Barbecue
☼ The Ocean and beaches
☼ Driving fast
☼ Snakes
☼ Getting high
☼ People comfortable in themselves
☼ Hot weather
☼ Video games - particularly the jumpscaring ones.
☼ Nintendo
☼ Asian cuisine; be it Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese, or Indian

Dislikes:
☼ Modern Art
☼ The downsides of getting high
☼ The possibility that he's addicted to drugs, and they control him rather than the other way round.
☼ The thought that if his sister were alive now, she would be so disappointed in him.
☼ People who try too hard to be "special" or "different".
☼ Cold weather
☼ Getting too close to a romantic partner
☼ Bourbon; c'mon man, if you're going to drink whiskey, at least get the decent stuff.
☼ Coffee

Fears:
☼ Accidentally overdosing/Losing himself to the drugs
☼ Intimacy; letting anyone too close to his heart in case it goes terribly wrong

Personality:

If one were to meet Garrett for the first time, and be in a room with him for five minutes, you could easily come to the conclusion of "moron". He does stupid things for no apparent reason – if someone asked him to headbutt a wooden wall to see if he could bust all the way through, he'd probably go for it. He's the guy who would dive off a cliff if somebody said it would be fun; and that's not a random suggestion, he has actually done that. Plenty of times. Not to mention the lack of seriousness hanging about him – the near constant stream of jovial comments, jokes, puns and sarcasm gives one the impression that he's without a care – or brain cell – in the world.

However, he isn't stupid – he just doesn't care to think about the consequences of his actions, instead electing to throw himself head first into most situations. Including speaking, so he can say rather blunt things without thinking about people's feelings beforehand, while not intentionally being mean, he can sometimes come across as such. Regardless of what his parents might say, or even his friends – if something piques his interest he'll give it a go, no matter the potential danger. Even after losing his sister, he's retained this way of thinking, perhaps being even more reckless at times; not only is adrenaline a good distraction from other, more damaging addictions of his, but he lost a certain amount of caring for his well-being when he lost Andy. Sometimes he thinks that if he weren't like this, then he could have followed in her footsteps and stopped everything from happening... or he could have died too. But then, he wouldn't be Garrett either. So he lives with it cheerfully, for the most part; and he is a cheerful person. There isn't much that can bring him down – but this is not always to his advantage. Any psychologist could see his constant state of optimism and humour is just a defence mechanism; bringing on forms of denial when it comes to bad things. This in turn has lead to procrastination in his jobs; a "mañana-mañana" sort of attitude when it comes to his responsibilities. While having never been fired from a job for slacking, he sometimes waits too long to look for a decent job, then running out of money and panicking to find a place that will hire him before becoming a vagrant.

His deniability doesn't just stop there though – there are many things in his life that he hasn't truly accepted. On the outside, it may just seem like he's okay with it, but in all honesty, he isn't. His sister's death is severely repressed, alongside a certain denial surrounding his drug habit. All the time he thinks that it wouldn't hurt to try just a little bit of weed to relax, but the thought of descending into that maddening spiral again is enough to put him off... for now, at least. The temptation grows every day, and while he'll laugh and joke with his friends, having a few lagers and pretending everything is fine, that little voice tells him to bring back that dark side. Well... he considers it to be dark; losing one's self control is a concerning thing. However, it should be noted than when high - or more commonly these days, drunk - he's never been violent. Dubbed a "happy drunk", Garrett is more likely to hurt you with a hug when he's had one too many pints than to get aggressive. He may even spill out a few heartfelt truths about a crush, if he gets drunk enough. When sober, if reminded of this, it will naturally get laughed off. But under this jovial, joke-cracking exterior, Garrett has all the normal feelings and emotions of any other person. He's just not one to wear his heart on his sleeve.

Background:

Garrett and his twin sister Candice were born on Friday the 13th. Is this starting like a horror story? Yes - but Garrett will tell anyone who laughs at the superstitious date his birth fell upon that he and his sister were never cursed, or demon children, or even the Anti-Christ. Can you imagine that? Not one, but two children of Satan? As if twins weren't already annoyingly inconvenient for parents. But were they unlucky? Yes... he supposes they were quite unlucky, at least as they approached adulthood. As for growing up, Garrett and Candice (Who swiftly learnt to hate her name and go by Andy instead) had it pretty normal. While born in their mother's native America, the family relocated to Australia not soon after the twin's birthday due to new job opportunities for their father; being as young as they were, they didn't really notice the move and grew up quite happily in their new home down under.

As the twins progressed through school, it became clear that one was doing better than the other. While both of them being both very keen at sports and proficient in them, Garrett's grades were steadily slipping academically while Andy was doing extremely well across the board. Soon, all Garrett was getting passes in was art, sport, and history - he insisted he wasn't stupid, he just found everything else too boring to listen to. After several bouts on punishment by his parents and teachers - which didn't really help him want to learn, if anything he became less likely to try in class - Andy began helping him with his studies. Simply on the basis of she and him wanting to stick by each other through everything, she explained he'd have to work harder if they wanted to go through life together as they'd always planned. Realising (somewhat reluctantly) that she was right, Garrett put in the bare, minimum effort to get his grades back up to standard. It didn't take much; as he'd already stated to his parents, he wasn't stupid, he was just bored. In fact, by the time he was 14 (now in secondary school), he was offering tutoring for the other students in history. Provided they paid him, that was.

By the time the pair had reached the age of 17, they had left school and unsure of what to do next. Well, Garrett was unsure. Andy had a plan; a plan she'd been thinking over for a good few years. Wanting to follow in her mother's footsteps, she told a surprised Garrett that she was wanting to join the Marines - the US Marines, that was. More than happy to follow in his sister's footsteps, the pair told their parents of their plan, and were soon jetting off to the States for a new, exciting life in the Marine Corps.

Except Garrett didn't. Didn't pass the requirements, that is - apparently he'd failed his "moral aptitude" test, which even he thought was understandable. He wasn't the most morally perfect person in the whole world; and he greatly disliked having orders barked at him. In hindsight, the Marines was probably not the greatest choice for a free spirit like himself. As for Andy, she had passed with flying colours, and was already being considered for the Intelligence programme she had applied for. While concerned for her wellbeing, Garrett was swollen with pride over his hard-working sister, telling her to go for it. He would take the time to get some part-time work here and there; exploring America as he went. Although they would be apart for a while, he would be there for her when she got back from her training - and before she went on a tour.

From here, Garrett did exactly that - bouncing around from state to state, he had plenty of skills to get jobs wherever took his fancy, as long as it didn't require a college degree. He took in new sights, learnt new things, made new friends, made love with new people, and tried to keep in touch with his sister and parents as much as he could. It was an easy enough life for a few years. But at the age of 21, it seemed that birthday of Friday the 13th finally caught up to him. Having just been a regular day, he couldn't understand the grief-stricken phone-call from his mother, fighting past her sobs to break the news to him. When she finally broke down and his father took over, Garrett's mind and body seemed to have gone numb as the message finally sank in. Killed in action? Andy? No... he would have felt it, he would have felt something. There were all these documentaries and TV shows about people feeling their twin's grief or pain from miles and miles away, he would have felt the same thing, right?

Understanding - real understanding - only came to him at the funeral. Even on the flight from the States back home was met with some slight denial. Everyone from his extended family seemed to be there; great-aunts and third cousins that he'd only ever met at his christening as a baby. They all said the same things; "So sorry for your loss..." and "At least she died doing what she loved..." But how could they know that? Andy loved surfing and barbecues and crappy jewellery; she loved petting dogs and cooing at sloth videos and ruffling Garrett's hair whenever he did something stupid. These strangers dressed in black didn't know a damn thing about her, or about him for that matter. The soldiers present didn't make him feel much better either. When told that Andy had died to save others, or had won a posthumous award for her bravery, he sourly wished that the others had died. He knew this was selfish of him to think, that it wasn't doing anything for Andy's memory - but he didn't care. He'd stopped caring about a lot of things when Andy died.

After a too-long military funeral, with the flag folded and handed to his pale-faced mother; everyone jerking in the seats at the sharp crack of each blank round fired - Garrett skipped the reception afterwards, heading back to his childhood home to be alone. He couldn't stand anymore people he barely knew hugging him and telling him it would get better. By the next day, he had packed his things and guiltily told his parents he was going back to America - he couldn't stand to stay here, not with all the memories. When they told him that they understood, and dropped him off at the airport with tight, lingering hugs and kisses wet with tears, he felt even worse at abandoning them. He promised to stay in touch, to look after himself, to promise to come home if things got too much for him... but he lied.

Garrett went straight back to his drifting ways, but it wasn't as hopeful or enjoyable as before. It was as if he was looking or searching for something, but he couldn't even find it - he remained empty as he bounced from state to state. It didn't take long for him to try and fill that hole with alcohol, and eventually drugs. It started off small; a puff of a bong here, a spliff there. But then a friend introduced him to ecstasy. When the ecstasy stopped working as well as it used to, he turned to acid. When the acid freaked him out too much, he tried some cocaine offered to him. It was a seemingly endless spiral downwards, trying new things to try and feel better - and it worked, for a while. But when the high disappeared, he felt darker and more depressed than ever. Contact with parents descended from regular phone calls to postcards, just to let them know he was alive and working... they couldn't tell how close to the edge of hopelessness he was from just writing.

His drug habit continued for a year or so, before landing a job in some stables in Colorado, the very state he was born in. It was a 6 month contract, meaning he'd have to stay there a bit longer than usual - which he didn't mind, considering how much he enjoyed horse-riding. While working there, he got to ride horses for when they needed extra exercising - the only downside was the owner. A sharp-witted fellow, he caught on to Garrett's issues straight away. Rather than turning him down for the job, he decided to give him a chance, what with seeing that the boy was really trying to better himself, to try and stop the total control of drugs. Gently persuaded by his boss, he took up classes in the nearby town for Kendo. The boss himself partook in the modern martial art, stating that it was a fine way to exercise and discipline yourself. On top of this, he picked up Brazilian jiu jitsu - a sport he had begun back in Australia as a kid, but had abandoned when coming to the states. Both martial arts proved to work some kind of magic in Garrett; he excelled in both of them, learning to turn to practice and exercise whenever a craving hit him or whenever he got down. The endorphins released from exercise did wonders for curing his sour moods, along with something introduced into his life that he hadn't felt in a while; hope. The hope that he could turn this around, that he could make something of himself and make Andy - and his parents - proud. Even when his contract came to an end, he remained in Colorado, continuing with this cleaner, healthier lifestyle in the hopes that he wouldn't relapse again.

Eventually, he grew bored of staying in the same place, and moved on once again. Landing in California, he heard of the auditions for The Real World in some bar he was hoping to get a job at. He'd seen it on TV a few times, but what with never being one for reality TV, hadn't invested much thought into it. However, to actually take part in the show would be interesting; not only could it possibly open up future job prospects, Garrett figured he could even make some actual permanent friends. Either way, it wouldn't hurt to audition for it. As it happened, the interview process was easily the most straight-forward one he'd ever had in his life; in which acting like himself was making him more likely to get a spot on the show. An Australian surrounded by yanks? The producers obviously thought that would make for a breath of fresh air, so they recruited him. Garrett was surprisingly excited for it - it would prove to be entertaining for himself, at the very least. Also, it was free rent for a while. He could put up with the cameras for that.

Miscellaneous:

Brooklyn 99 has got to be a current favourite of mine. Sweet Jesus, I love that show.

Woo! Glad I managed to finish him by today. Hope everything is cool.

The Real World: Welcome to Miami

Just letting y'all know that I'm still here, and my character should be ready by tomorrow!

The Elder Scrolls: Oblivion - Crimson Skies

@Leos Klien@Frizan@BurningCold@POOHEAD189@LadyTabris@Leidenschaft@MacabreFox@ShieldsOfWar

Hello hello! So, this tagging is basically to tell you how the dice system will work; it'll also be added in the OP on the first page of the OOC in case we need to re-fresh our memories. I'm putting it on here now because I'll be moving the group along tomorrow, and they'll have their first dice-rolled fight when they find the tower and enter it. To reiterate, your character's cannot die (unless you abandon the roleplay, that is), and the dice rolls won't be implemented for every battle/foe our group comes across. Just main battles - and this one is simply to introduce you all to it.

Basically, the dice rolls will affect the following:

• Size/Strength of our enemy: The lower the roll for this means the harder the fight will be, and the more likely injuries will occur; however, it also means more loot - or more valuable loot - will become available. Again, you are not at risk of dying, this is simply for spicing up the story and having your character's interact with things during or after a battle.
• Whether an injury has been sustained.
• The size/wealth of the loot received: While there are plenty of loot-able things in the world of the Elder Scrolls, we will be more realistic about it. You may take a Daedric arrow as a souvenir to study back home, but you will not be taking all the weapons and armour of a Dremora because you were lucky enough to kill it. This roll will be specifically for what will be within the "Boss Chest" - when a battle is finished, a nearby horde or container will become available for your characters to go spelunking into. If it's a high roll, everyone is rolling in money. If it's a low roll, we all get mouldy apples for dinner.

It should be noted that in terms of injury, we would not expect people to follow the same scaling. For example, if two of you are fighting a scamp and a daedroth respectively, and both of you roll a five, the scamp is not going to inflict the same amount of damage as the daedroth. The smaller/weaker the enemy, the less likely it is for you to become injured by it. E.G. If you roll anything above a 2 for the scamp, you are unscathed. If it's below, it's managed to hurt you. We, the GMs, will decide on the scaling for each enemy and let you know the outcome; we expect you to write about it accordingly and as realistically as possible.

Additionally, alchemical ingredients - specifically those taken from the bodies of fallen foes - should only be harvested by someone who has the knowledge of what the specific ingredient does.

I hope I've explained everything clearly, and will give examples prior to the roleplay if you'd like them. Hopefully my Co-GM will point out if I've missed anything.

@Chasers115
Last chance; speak now, or your character is going to be brutally killed in the realm of Oblivion.

Escaping the Blight: A Collaboration of POOHEAD189 & MiddleEarthRoze

Feri would have suggested staying at her small camp before moving on in the morning after some respite, but honestly, she didn't feel safe staying in one place too long right after a Darkspawn attack. Admittedly it was a small group, but for all she knew they could have been scouting for a much larger army to pass on by. If that were the case, she would not want to be stuck in the middle of it; moving onwards would be a better option, at the very least until nightfall.

When Rannon stood up and spoke, Feri's fingers had found their way to the top of Gideon's head and was scratching his furry ears quite happily; she seemed to be enjoying it as much as he. However, her wandering hand paused at Rannon's query.

"Loghain? As in, Loghain Mac Tir, the war hero?" She asked, one eyebrow raised quizzically. If you lived in Fereldan for even a year, you were soon educated about the war against Orlais, and the bravery of King Maric and his most trusted friend and General, Loghain. Their children had even been wedded together, showing how strong the Mac Tir and Theirin families were. She was aware that Loghain and his troops had joined the assault in Ostagar; with King Cailan there, he had a duty to protect both his King, and Son-In-Law. But at Rannon's words, Feri's heart fell. "What do you mean by treachery? What happened at Ostagar?"

Escaping the Blight: A Collaboration of POOHEAD189 & MiddleEarthRoze

Feri's smile grew as Rannon reached for the whiskey - she couldn't blame him for wanting to take the edge off, really. In fact, some whiskey sounded rather relaxing for their current situation; taking the bottle from Rannon as she sat beside him, she took a few eye-watering gulps of the liquid herself. It had been fairly cheap, and cheap stuff was always the harshest. Regardless of the taste, it got you drunk fast - and while temping to just get hammered at the moment, Feri decided against it, instead opting for the jerky given to her with a grateful smile. It definitely tasted better than the stuff she had given to Gideon, but he didn't seem to mind.

Her bright expression - mostly because of how good the jerky was in her rather empty stomach - faded somewhat at Rannon's apology, being replaced with some sympathy and a touch of concern.

"There's no need to apologise. You've clearly been through some hard times these past few days. Well... I suppose I have too, but nothing like..." She hesitated a moment, gauging Rannon's expression. "Nothing like what happened at Ostagar, I mean. It's understandable for you to be feeling... well, a lot of things, I suppose." Gently placing a hand on Rannon's forearm in some modicum of comfort, she offered up a softer smile than before; more supporting than anything. "You don't have to worry about me - I'm just glad to have found somebody too. In fact, I was lucky enough to get two for the price of one." She finished with a light chuckle, looking at Gideon who was gnawing happily on her stale jerky... all of Rannon's had disappeared down the dog's gullet.

Realising that after a few moments her hand was still on Rannon's forearm, she removed it quickly, busying herself with her bandages while trying to hide the slight blush creeping along her cheeks. The bandages weren't really a distraction; that wound on her side was still annoyingly oozing blood. The cut seemed shallow, but was long and seemed to have no intention of clotting any time soon. Getting to her feet, she undid her corset (Which would need repairing; again.) and rolled her shirt up, tucking it under her bra to wrap the bandage around her exposed midriff with more ease. From behind, Rannon would see flickers of a deep, knotted scar on her back when Feri's long hair swayed out of the way.

"So, where were you thinking of heading to? I bet Redcliff would be safe enough." She suggested to the warrior, tying of her bandage and turning to face him as she pulled her shirt back down. Picking up her corset from the floor, she decided putting it back on would be beneficial too; it would save her carrying it, and while damaged, it would apply more pressure to the wound.

Into The Dark: Mercenaries (Heroes of Fame and Fortune)

Kayden's wink did not go unnoticed; a slight quirk to Lis' hard line of a mouth showing some amusement - at least they could share in the ridiculousness of this task. Glad they were able to stop the old Lord from rambling on too long, Lis breathed a sigh of relief as they exited, even allowing herself an actual smile at Kayden's comment. She didn't think the Evergod was on their side at the moment.

By the time the others had arrived back at the guildhall, Lis had settled in comfortably and had even found some time to relax. Having a lengthy bathing session in a nearby bathhouse, she'd indulged with some of her own soaps and lotions to make the hot water even more comforting. When meeting the others back in the Mead Hall, her blue-black hair - now dry and sweetly scented with lemongrass - hung heavy down her back and around her face, adding a softness to her sharp features that would normally be missed. Even her outfit seemed more casual, with her armour, overcoat and gloves discarded, teal shirt untucked from her trousers and the sleeves rolled up to the elbow; her injury from the day before had healed nicely, and was now just a thin stripe of red on her forearm amidst her tanned skin and older, paler scars.

At first, Lis simply directed herself to whichever chair was closest to her; by the Captains left. She thought nothing of it before hesitating a fraction of a second, wondering if someone as new as herself deserved a seat by the guildmaster's side. But Kayden had seemed unperturbed - amused, even - by her speaking out earlier. It was clear this guild, or at the very least it's leader, didn't care for such trivial matters. So there she sat, enjoying another tankard of Banian ale. However, the taste of the ale grew sour in her mouth and her grip tightened around the tankard in no time; the mission. Of course. Part of her wanting to get out and relax had been because of a worrying thought; the way that Lord Pembrook had described the "Peculiar" fellow, and even his house priest having a negative reaction... it made her think of other-wordly things. Something not natural. And the worst of all these possibilities was that of a Vampire.

Indeed, she couldn't disagree with the her gut feeling, as there were plenty of signs pointing towards it. Either that or it was some fellow versed in dark magical; either way, she wasn't happy. In her time in Bania, the so called "monster-hunters" she had travelled with rarely encountered the likes of vampires, but when they did, they were not prepared. The feral, uncontrollable beasts that could not hide in plain sight like their more intelligent family were difficult to dispatch; it often brought with it several deaths, a large loss of limbs, and even a few mercy killings when some poor souls became infected.

"There's a number of things that his fellow could be. All are dangerous possibilities, but if we're wanting a worst case scenario..." He voice paused, eyes travelling around the table. "Then there is some signs in what Lord Pembrook told us that this may be a vampire; but we'd better hope this isn't the work of one. From the sounds of it, it's intelligent and controlled. And they're the most dangerous." Her tone was grim, eyes hard but now staring quite firmly at the table, not wanting to meet anybody's eyes anymore. "Let's just say I've had some personal experience with the feral ones; they were never good experiences, so I can barely imagine how much harder this task will be." Now looking up and glancing at Kayden, she tapped her fingers lightly against the table.

"However, I'm not one to back down from a fight. I say we take the job; at the very least, I have some experience which may come in useful, if the worst should occur." Her tone was somewhat reluctant, but she wasn't going to let the mercenary group down at the first hurdle. Even if the worst case scenario occurred, the task would prove to be more enthralling than she had first anticipated.