Polyphemus

6 AM...Yesterday

You had my attention.

Now you have my interest.

Raguel's List

Guess I ought to do one myself.

Konstantinos Stavrou

Name: Konstantinos Stavrou, aka "Django"

Gender: Male

Date of Birth: June 3, 1918

Nationality: Greek

Appearance: Konstantinos Stavrou is a man of average height, though exceptionally thin and wiry in build. He has very dark hair, almost black, cut in a short Ivy League cut, as was the fashion of the time. Olive complexion and clean shaven, his most dominating facial features are his hawk nose and sparkling brown eyes. On his left arm, there's a long trailing scar, received from a .303 rifle round during the Greek Civil War. Stavrou almost always dresses in three-piece suits and wears a Tyrolean hat.

Curriculum Vitae: Stavrou speaks Greek, German, and English. His service with the EDES and training from the British have given him some skill in intelligence gathering and covert assassination, while his experiences during the Civil War taught him the basics of infantry combat. In addition, he is a talented violinist, able to learn songs by ear.

Personality: Outwardly, Stavrou projects the image of a laughing bon vivant, always quick with a joke or some escapade, enjoying a fine meal or whatever other experiences life has to offer. Inside, though, he is deeply insecure and worries for his own sanity on a daily basis. He has done questionable things but believes there is no redemption for him. The long years of violence profoundly traumatized him, and Stavrou genuinely worries that the inexplicable anger, hatred, and sadness inside him might some day explode. Accordingly, he views the exercise of killing fugitives as a sort of safety valve: instead of going berserk and turning on innocents, instead he vents the darkness in him on the deserving.

Personal History: Konstantinos Stavrou was born in Thrace to a Roma family. They were nomads, wandering Greece and selling various trinkets to whoever might be interested. In one such trade, young Stavrou laid his hands on a violin. An uncle taught him the basics of the instrument, and Konstantinos soon taught himself the rest. At the age of sixteen, Konstantinos struck out on his own, as was expected in his family. He wandered Greece on foot, his only companion his violin. On coming to towns, he would play in the taverns and cafes in exchange for a few drachmas, a meal, and a bed for the night- often shared with whatever local girl he managed to woo. In the morning he would move on to the next town, often as not chased out by the gendarmes or protective fathers And so Konstantinos passed his youth, happy and carefree.

And then came 1940. First the Italians, then the Germans, then the Bulgarians. Suddenly Greece was no longer a free country. Stavrou successfully avoided conscription into the Hellenic Army and tried to carry on as before. But the music seemed dull and the girls cold.

In September of 1941, Stavrou was in the northern city of Drama when a group of angry young men tried to start an uprising against the Bulgarian authorities. The revolt was quickly crushed, but the reprisals didn't stop there. The Bulgarians executed nearly 3000 men in Drama alone, Stavrou barely escaping with his life as several villages were razed and looted by the Bulgarians. Among the thousands of dead were several friends and casual acquaintances of his. With that, the young man decided he could no longer sit quietly aside and try to enjoy his own life while others were being slaughtered.

Konstantinos was able to make contact with the National Republican Greek League (EDES), one of the largest resistance groups springing up in Greece. With his known status as an itinerant wanderer, Stavrou was an ideal choice for a courier. No one would question the Gypsy and his violin. And so, Stavrou managed to travel unopposed across the Italian, German, and Bulgarian zones, ferrying messages between the scattered EDES cells. He would supplement the dispatches with whatever gossip and hard facts he could scrape together, often listening in on idle chatter between occupying soldiers and piecing together useful information. On one such occasion on New Year's Day, 1942, Stavrou was caught eavesdropping on a German officer in a tavern in Katerini. The officer, drunk and angry, threatened Stavrou with what was happening to other Roma elsewhere in Europe. In a near panic, Stavrou waited until the officer stepped outside to relieve himself, then removed the G-string from his violin and garrotted the man to death in the street.

It was the first man he had ever killed.

Other EDES guerrillas helped him hide the body, and passed the news of his deed up the chains of command. Within a week, a shaken Konstantinos was met by two men whose Greek was marred by foreign accents. . The Britons, both from the Special Operations Executive, rushed Stavrou through some advanced training in the mountains, teaching him the subtle arts of murder by knife, pistol, and cosh. Almost like a graduation present, they assigned him the codename "Django", cribbed from another Roma musician, Django Reinhardt. Afterwards, Stavrou was pressed into service from time to time in this manner aside from his normal courier duties. Usually it was a soldier, easier for Stavrou to live with. Other times he would dispose of the luckless victims of an interrogation. And then, worst of all, were the men suspected of being traitors to the organization. No one ever bothered to inform him of whatever proof there was of the man's guilt. They simply asked him to kill a brother Greek.

The war, like all wars, soon ended, and the foreigners had left the country. Konstantinos estimated he had killed eleven men throughout the war. It was not something he cared to do again. However, Greece was not so obliging. The tensions between competing resistance groups finally boiled over in the aftermath, resulting in the bloody Greek Civil War between the monarchists and communists. Napoleon Zervas, now a high-ranking government official, remembered Stavrou's service and commissioned him a lieutenant. Stavrou now had to lead men into conventional warfare, a task for which he was wholly unprepared. Young men and grizzled veterans died under his watch before he learned this kind of warfare. And throughout it all, he could not escape the fact that he was fighting no invader. Just brother Greeks.

When his side was victorious in 1949, Konstantinos Stavrou felt no joy, no elation. Just an empty weariness. Seeking a fresh start, he left the ruined country for the first time in his life, moving to Britain and finding work as a violinist in clubs and restaurants. But there was no satisfaction in the work. For years, he struggled with dark and violent thoughts. When the mysterious offer came through, he leaped at the chance. After nine years of bloodshed in Greece, violence had become the thing he best understood.

"Let the Game Begin!"

Watanabe had awakened long before the sound of the club tapping on the door. He just hadn't bothered to open his eyes, instead preferring to sit in meditation. If his hunch was right about what all of this was, he would need every last bit of his considerable strength.

"Up and at 'em, tubby," the guard sneered as he unlocked the door. Watanabe did not react to the insult, instead getting to his feet and calmly walking where indicated. He had long since decided to conduct himself with all the dignity he could muster. Perhaps, someone somewhere would respect him for that.

Watanabe gave a polite nod to the rail-thin young man being prodded out of his cell as the guards walked the Japanese man down the hallway. No sense making enemies just yet.

The Walking Dead: Los Angeles

Well, right now we're not far from the San Diego suburbs. This early on there's probably still plenty of people, maybe even police and military (so we could easily be shot for looting). Still probably plenty of supplies.

Raguel's List

Astrid looks great! I've always had a soft spot for Schleswig, it's beautiful, idyllic country thereabouts. Very peaceful.

Accepted, provided nothing batshit insane gets put in that personality file.

Lights, Camera, Action!

Sheffield, I'm a little confused by Nicholas Lyons. In the same sentence, you say he's won two Academy Awards, then one. Which is it?

Assassin's Creed RPG

Which historical period are we looking at for the ancestors?

Jurassic Park RP Anyone?

You said the magic word.

The Walking Dead: Los Angeles

Alex surveyed the woman with interest. She wasn't half bad. End of the world wasn't so bad if he ended up giving a ride to a gorgeous blonde, right? Besides, he was famous and shit. Aw yeah, things were looking up for sure. "Nice to meet you, Sophia. You too, chica," he said with what was intended to be a disarming smile. With dismay, Alex realized he hadn't had time to snatch up a toothbrush before leaving the base. So much for the pearly whites that had briefly trended on Twitter after he had signed. Damn.

Still doing forty or so on the paved road snaking through the desert, Alex scanned the dash, lighting on the boxy display painted in the traditional olive drab. The handset rested tantalizingly in a cradle atop. Tentatively, not wanting to take his eyes off the road, Alex poked at what he assumed was the power switch. He grinned when the device obediently gave a warm orange glow.

"Alright, well, this can't be too hard to use," he said. "I mean, it's meant for soldiers. No disrespect to boys in uniform, but it just makes sense to make it simple as possible, right?" He slowed down, not willing to stop entirely, as he lifted the handset and held down the SEND button on the side. Hopefully, everyone was tuned in on this standardized frequency. Taking a deep breath, he mentally organized what he was going to say. Just like leading a team.

"Calling anyone who escaped from Camp Pendleton, any and all refugees on this frequency. We need to regroup. Get any weapons and supplies you can and meet up at, uh, head west towards the I-5. Where Las Pulgas Road meets the freeway. Over."

Alex nodded to himself in satisfaction, then handed the handset to Sophia. "Somebody needs to take charge, right? Might as well be us. Okay, I'm going to get my bearings, then head for that place. I want you to count to sixty, then broadcast that same message. Every minute, got it? Las Pulgas Road and the I-5." With that, he gave the woman a clap on the shoulder, then surveyed his surroundings. Satisfied, he began to drive what he was pretty sure was west, towards the rendezvous spot.

The Walking Dead: Los Angeles

Oh, that's me? My bad. I'll get right on it.