So this is like different RP's rolled in one right? This is some sort of hub for all of the Ebonfront RP's? So I was wondering if there were any casual RP's going or if anyone would like to do some sort of 1x1. I've been reading the wiki and it seems like no one's really picked any of the Giants yet so I wanted to RP as a giant.
But there's also the factor of time which I don't have much of.
Capabilities: They utilise high tech Mass Effect weaponry and kinetic shields. They have the capabilities to travel between worlds and systems but are heavily reliant on Relays to do so. They also have the ability to create said relays but with limited range. A self destructing relay also has the capability to wipe out a whole solar system.
Objectives: To have a united Yakuza galaxy. It fight against the oppressors of the poor and make a little credit along the way. And make many, many things explode along the way.
Members: The New Yakuza is made up of many different species but is primarily made up of Batarians, Humans and Turians although there is a large amount of Elcor in the gang which is very strange. The New Yakuza members rise through the ranks by the amount respect and honour you have. This is emblazoned on a blood red headband that all Yakuza members are required to wear. The gang relies on heavy weaponry and vehicles to do the job, not liking the hit and run tactics that other gangs put in place. There are Three Great Leaders, each one leading a section of Yakuza. They are all second to the Supreme Grand Leader.
History: The New Yakuza has spread across the galaxy like a wave, taking over the Terminus Systems and dipping into Council Space. The New Yakuza has a chapter left, right and centre, no Terminus world has been left untouched. They dabble in every single crime you know, but Banha has strictly forbidden rape and slave trafficking in his ranks. The Yakuza has become popular, many flock to their chapters to join them. When the Dominion arrived, they're vast resources and every single Yakuza gang member retreated back into the Eagle Nebula. They fortified the sector, the Supreme Grand Leader banning all civilian travel outside the sector. The Eagle Nebula became their territory and they have remained there ever since.
"The Yakuza shall rise once more, it's numbers infinite, it's power glorious and its hunger satisfied."
Name: Banha Akiyama
Age 34
Species Batarian
Gender: Male
Personality: One that does not know the crime boss personally may say he is cruel. Evil. A torturous man that has killed thousands and ruined millions of lives. They may say that he is deserving of being Enemy #1, a threat that only the Reapers and the more recent "Great Tide" could dwarf in treachery. These people are the innocents, the carpenter, the doctor, the normal men and women that walk the streets, feeling safe in their "perfectly normal" lives. These are people ignorant of Banha's true nature.
Among his people, he is a symbol of righteousness and rebellion, a fighter against oppression and corruption. Among enemies, he is one to be feared and run from, Enemy #1. Among friends however, he is a man under stress, handling the lives of millions of people under his command. With the recent arrival of the Dominion and their horrors, he struggles to find peace. He is stressed, he is tired, he is worn down. But Banha is the symbol of the New Yakuza, a strong people with a strong leader..
Bio: Banha was born on the planet of Anhur in the Eagle Nebula. Though damaged by the Reaper Invasion, the Human-Batarian colony has since prospered, their natural wealth carrying them through the hardships. Born in the capital New Thebes, little Banha didn't know much about his biological parents. At the age of four, he was dropped on the steps of the head of a once powerful gang. Shinku Akiyama, the so called "Last Yakuza", a title that have confused many aliens and humans who weren't aware of the name, was definitely surprised when he saw a small, sniffling Batarian child on his doorstep.
He sighed, his cold eyes renewed by the sight of such youthfulness. "Ahh, you are like me, eh? Left behind, sticking around while people move on. You're a loner like me." Shinku, then a comparatively young 44 year old, scratched his beard. "How about us two loners hang out for a while." The Japanese man took the young Batarian in. This changed both of their lives, for better or for worse? Well, depends on your perspective.
The years spent in the Akiyama household flew by, it was the childhood Banha never had really. His life became a happy blur and his days turn into a routine. He dropped into a routine with his technically adoptive father. The Batarian wakes up at 7:00 every morning and jogs around the block. When he arrives at 7:15, he will usually have to spray water at Shinku to wake him up for Iaido training. If the man was with Aleia, an Asari that could be called Shinku's girlfriend and someone who Banha affectionately calls mother despite the bone crushing hugs he receives afterwards, he would drag his surrogate father out of bed and cover Aleia's modesty.
After an hour of training with Shinku, Banha gets ready for school. This early morning routine repeated day after day, not that he minded. Until one day.
Banha returned from his final day of High School. The school he attended wasn't bad, it was quite an alright school. He wanted to tell his father about his test results. He had studied for the test extremely hard with Aleia, having wanted to become some sort of biologist when he grew up. It was something to strive for, so worked he did. Graduation was also a blast. He entered the living room to see a horrifying sight.
Shinku had committed seppuku. At least that's what it seemed like. A letter was on the ground next to his dead body.
If you are reading this, then I am dead. I have gone the honourable way, the way of the samurai. I do hope that you who are reading this is Aleia, not Banha. Aleia, you are my love and the only woman that could ever stand being with me. Take care of Banha for me please? Banha, if you are reading this, I am sorry. I cannot live with living this life anymore. Being a loner. Forgotten by the world. The word Yakuza was supposed to be a feared name and I ruined it by continuing my cowardly ways. My dad was a Yakuza and my whole heritage were Yakuza. Really, if you think about it, there is no place in the galaxy for a Yakuza. But I want to give the reigns to you, Banha. Don't make the same mistake I made where I left the Yakuza name to die. I beg you to make a New Yakuza. Better, fiercer and more feared than the last. If you don't, you're rejecting a dead man's wish :P.
Hugs, kisses and all that shit. Shinku.
Banha left the scene of the seppuku, openly crying and breaking down, calling the local hospital to pick Shinku's body up. He assumed that Aleia hadn't come back from work so he didn't bother with going to her, only leaving a small note on the door. She wouldn't like what the Batarian was going to do, and he didn't have the courage to deny her to her face. He packed up and scoured the city for a new home, somewhere to live and build up his legacy. His brotherhood. His New Yakuza.
Banha started out small, doing the odd job or two, robbing small stores and pick pocketing. He also began to spy on his opposition. There was the "8 Street Saints", a primarily Human group led by a man named Jay. They were quite a big gang, lots of territory and lots of money. They pale of course to the biggest gang in New Thebes, "Drummond&Co", an off world syndicate wanting to dip their fingers into Anhur's natural wealth.
It started off slow due to Drummond&Co beginning to take out any competition. The so called "Gang War" erupted in New Thebes between the 8 Street Saints and Drummond&Co, famously known because of the police effectively turning a blind eye to the various battles erupting in the mega city. Because of this, being the leader of an amateur gang wasn't the best. Gangs were absorbed left, right and centre, both big shot gangs wanting to get bigger and bigger to defeat the other.
As the war escalated, Banha began to seek for some men of his own. Because of the way the war was going, there were a lot of previously powerful gangs left in tatters, leaving them looking for some sort of glimpse of the old days. The Batarian slowly started to gather some allies, making some sort of army of his own. One day his right hand man Urdnot Varhak, an ex-Blood Pack member and now part of the New Yakuza, suggested something. "Sir." The Krogan said "I believe we should create some sort of uniform or emblem for this New Yakuza. His motley crew of varren needs to be separated from the rest of the varren." He gestured to the group of Batarians, Humans, Vorcha, Geth, Turians and so on. The New Yakuza wasn't just made up of Humans, there was a whole lot of different races.
Banha eventually agreed to the Krogan's ramblings of a uniform. Though not in a way the Krogan expected. He made it compulsory to wear a red headband around the head at all times to signify their alliance with the New Yakuza. There was Japanese Kanji on every single one of them, saying their rank and name. Rank worked like a number system. The higher respect and honour you have, the higher your number. So on Banha's red band, it had the Kanji for 58 on it while some of the new recruits had the number 1 on it. It was also compulsory to learn the ways of Iaido, even those who complained that it was a dying art and "obsolete" in the age of mass effect. He smacked them with his bokken.
The New Yakuza grew under the other two, feeding from their crumbs and growing in power. They got most of their revenue from drug trafficking, money laundering and transport of illegal goods. They only snipped away at the other two big gangs, stealing a container there and stealing from a store they were getting income from. The gang eventually grew and grew until a huge 5000 members made it that they couldn't hide any longer.
Banha released the horde. From every chapter house, club and store the New Yakuza hid in, poured member after member, surprising the various 8 Street Saint chapters. They were eventually overwhelmed and in two days, the 8 Street Saints were no more. He turned to Drummond&Co but found that they were no more. They upped and left Anhur.
Years afterwards, the New Yakuza has spread it's influence drastically. Anhur became the capital of this empire. They were found all over the Attican Traverse and the Terminus Systems. Chapters popped up everywhere and the New Yakuza reached a golden age. They were essentially a nation in all but name. Where a chapter popped up, the Yakuza essentially took over that planet. With the Council forces worn down from the fight with the Reapers, Banha made an empire. Free from the unfair rule of the Council, of their oppressive rulers. He offered freedom. They had many allies but even more enemies. From the different factions of Batarians, the different mercenary groups and even more.
This all changed. The Dominion, an offshoot of humanity, showed its face to the galaxy. They were ruthless. Activating a dormant relay, spewing ship after ship. They were there to conquer all. Banha was worried of this new threat. He knew that the Council was unfit to fight this new threat, and there was no Shepard to help them. As the Dominion ravaged world after world, destroying ragged and broken fleets with ease, he knew that the Yakuza would not be safe. His forces were spread out across the galaxy. As the Yakuza Grand Leader, he called for all chapters, and willing followers, to escape to the Eagle Nebula, to fortify their homeland.
As Yakuza escaped from every world not in the Eagle Nebula or worlds untouched by the Dominion's blind wrath, they brought supplies, vehicles and lots and lots of guns. The Eagle Nebula became Yakuza territory and became a safe havens for refugees. As the Dominion took over the Citadel, they turned dormant. Like a river that hit a dam. The attacks stopped and the Dominion, faster than they came out, went back into their relay. The Milky Way is silent once again, the sounds of an even greater threat emerging from the once dormant relay.
Banha restricted all civilian travel to other nebulae and sectors, making the Eagle Nebula a fortress. He sends explorers and scouts to scour the Nebula for resources and worlds. Fortunately, every dormant relay did not contain a Dominion. Merely a few more systems and resources. He made his Yakuza militarised and created a pseudo-state. The Supreme Grand Leader disappeared every now and then, leaving his five commanders in charge. The Milky Way isn't safe anymore. The Great Tide is coming.
Abilities:
Skills 4th Dan Iaido -Banha is a practitioner of Iaido, probably the lone Batarian to study a Human martial art. His adoptive father, Shinku Akiyama, was a famous master of the dying art. When he found the little 4 year old Banha, he naturally adopted him and taught him the ways of Iaido. The Batarian can now practice his Iaido through all of the katas, preferring the standing kata to the sitting ones. Iaido calms Banha in a spiritual sense, letting himself sink into the kata. With a flash of his blade, the samaritan can slice a man in half.
Shooting -As the leader of the fledgling New Yakuza, he has been labelled as a criminal by multiple factions (mostly Batarian led ones) and many bounties have been made for his head. Naturally, Banha needed to defend himself, his father and their foundling mercenary band/drug empire. The Batarian has a preference of a semi automatic assault rifle coupled with a sub machine gun. Though he does love the Terran C-14 rifles.
Weapons
Modified Terran C-14 Gauss Rifle -Red Dot Sight -Explosive Round Mod -Grenade Launcher Mod -Emblazoned with Asari in lewd poses
Heavily Modified M-99 Saber -Assault Rifle Magazine Upgrade II -Adjustable Thermal Scope -Incendiary Rounds -Omni Blade Mod -Digital Camo
"I'm not shy, I'm just holding in my awesomeness so I don't intimidate you. Fuck yeah." -Unknown Meme
Name:
Jejomar Rizal Ordonio Salinas
Nickname:
Je-Je (joke name, preferred) or Karaoke Jay (drunk persona)
Birth Date:
November/29/1991
Age:
24
Gender:
Male
Sexuality:
Heterosexual
Relationship Status:
Single
Occupation:
Game Designer Intern
Apartment Number:
3C
In Depth Appearance:
Je-Je, for all intents and purposes, is a nerd. He doesn't flaunt it and it certainly isn't obvious that he works with Game Dev's all the time. He has the kind of "likeable" face that people either adore or want to punch. Thick eyebrows, soft brown eyes and a kind-of-slightly beard that he's been growing for months, it gives him an aura of niceness. He doesn't have a particularly hairy body nor is he very chiseled, more streamline than anything. At 5'9, he is an average dude and doesn't have anything going for him except his face. Jejomar has a piecing only on his left ear (first time getting drunk, it didn't end well) a provocative looking lady on his arse (second time getting drunk, it really didn't end well) and a large phallus-like tribal tattoo on his lower back (from the last time he got drunk, unaware of it's existence). His clothing style is actually surprisingly on the trendy side, his absolute fanatic love with fedoras and game tees kind of ruins that but you know. It's classy.
M Y Q U I R K S
Habits | Quirks | Oddities
1. Eats a lot of food. A lot 2. Daydreams a lot 3. Draws on his hand everything he wants to do in the day 4. When drunk, turns into brashest person you'll ever meet 5. Scratches back of his head when in awkward situations 6. Slams his head on walls when angry
Hobbies:
1. LARPing 2. Barging into friend's home and sleeps there 3. Getting drunk
Likes:
1. Reading 2. Drawing characters and writing elaborate plots 3. Sleeping everywhere and at any time, don't be surprised seeing him lying down on your sofa at midday 4. Eating anything 5. Playing video games 6. Kids
Dislikes:
1. Exercise 2. Forced interaction with strangers 3. Large crowds and large open spaces 4. Getting drunk 5. Horrible video games
Fears:
1. Agoraphobia 2. Dying before fully completing Witcher 3 3. People judging him 4. Losing friends and family
Personality:
♦ Quirky ♦ Self-conscious ♦ Nice ♦ Awkward ♦
Despite everyone's best efforts, Jejomar is a very shy person. Never one to stand out in a crowd or boast about his life, he is contained in a small world of his. His sheltered life in the Philippines made his life in America hard, having to communicate with people he had never met before. Though living with the group has slowly made progress getting him more proactive and interact with other people, it still incredibly slow. Only his friends know his quirks and oddities and in front of people who he is friends with, he lets himself relax and turn into the nerd they all know.
In front of friends, Je-Je is no longer self-conscious about who he is and turns into the quirky nerd that actually is. Smiling and laughing like a normal person, the occasional nerdy quip and the weird drunk adventures he tells to get people's attention. He usually tends to be on the outside of the group and in parties, on the sides of the room. He still doesn't like being the centre of attention but talks to people when approached. When drunk, and he rarely does get drunk, he becomes the complete opposite of his sober self.
A loud, brash and hilarious person, Jejomar tends become a bit of a party animal. Friends who know call this alternate self "Karaoke Jay" due to his tendency to carry a miniature karaoke machine in his backpack. Terrible singer but very amusing. Je-Je has a deep connection with the people of 3C and has long since treated them more like family. His deep fear of losing the only friends he has makes him a little anxious whenever one of the group leaves for an extended amount of time. Despite his shy attitude, he loves his friends for bringing him out of his shell.
D E F I N I N G M Y P A S T
History:
Jejomar was born to Anthony and Riza Salinas, a pair of hardworking Filipinos with high expectations and dreams for their son. Anthony worked as a Real Estate Agent and Riza worked as a Graphic Designer at home. He both grew up and was taught in his home, his mother teaching him all she knew in an early age. He was put in with the best private school they could afford, with private tutoring and special classes. They were both very humble and good people, working their hearts out so they can give their only son a better life overseas. He was a very sheltered child with very few friends and the only people he could truly count on were his family.
Je-Je got into gaming as a sort of stress reliever from the countless tests and hard work, falling in love with video games. Final Fantasy, Zelda, Mario, Doom, Quake and anything he can get his hands on. Living in Manila granted him access to more games than his cousins in the countryside had. This was when he found his dream of being a Game Developer. His parents initially disapproved of it but after some clever arguments they reached a compromise; he would become a Game Designer. After graduating from High School, he was on the first plane to America to start on his video game career.
In high school, he was very silent character and was often bullied because he looked "vulnerable". Jejomar was mocked for how he looked, his name and anything the bullies could say and do that would hurt him. The principal soon caught the perpetrators but not before the experience scarred him. He felt lonely, and loneliness is the most soul crushing feeling of all. His parents tried to get him help but he denied it at every turn. This was when he started having problems with meeting with people, scared of what they would think of him.
And the rest was history. Coming to the United States signalled the birth of "Karaoke Jay", graduating from university and ending up in the not-so-quaint Apartment 3C. He has found bonds there and has no real desire to come back to the Philippines though he does Skype his parents almost everyday. The life of Jejemar Salinas, unlike his name, is very normal and hopes that living around his group of friends will give some sparkle and jazz to his life.
M I S C .
Extra:
I love swimming and role playing :)
Anything Else:
Jejomar got his nickname "Je-Je" from his cousins and it stuck with him ever since.
"Life is short. Break the rules, forgive quickly, kiss slowly, love truly, laugh uncontrollably and never regret anything that makes you smile.” Unknown
Name;;
Donovan Montgomery
Nickname;;
Don It's a shorter version of his name and he loves how it makes him feel like a mafia boss
Age;;
21
Gender;;
Male
Sexuality;;
Heterosexual
Relationship Status;;
Uh... It's complicated
Role;;
Middle Son
Appearance;;
Donovan may be a free, casual spirit but he still takes careful care of his appearance. Smooth, white skin is graced with not a single hair (except for his head, of course) nor blemish. He "finely crafts", as he puts it, his hair into what it is and takes thirty minutes to get ready. He also "sculpts" his beard every morning, "crafting" it into what it is. He stands at a tall 6"2 and is more of a lean man, not overtly muscly but not skinny. His style is very casual and comfort based, he cares more about his actual physical appearance than the clothes he wears. He could be seen walking around in black sweatpants, long t-shirts, sandals and a beanie. He can always be seen carrying a long, black case containing his bokken and hakama. He has a scar right on his left eyebrow from when he was nicked by some thug in a street alley. He has two earrings, one on each ear.
Donovan is known as a free spirit for a reason. He is known for his lazy attitude and rarely moves from his little hill in the local park, seen lying there and watching as the clouds pass over his head. He is not known for being motivated, quite the opposite actually, and can be seen getting dragged from his hill towards his house for chores or meetings. He sleeps till he can sleep no more and can almost never be woken up by someone else. He doesn't do much and he tries to avoid the fighting although the occasional opportunistic rival criminal will try to sneak up on him and kill him. This will usually end in a bokken to the face.
He doesn't talk about it much but he is addicted to the feeling of slo-mo, the slowing of his perception of time through listening to classical music. It is like a drug to him, the high adrenaline rush and the relaxing feeling of sleeping for hours afterwards makes him feel good. Although it is overworking his eyes and he will eventually lose his ability to see, he loves the feeling of being able to watch everything in detail. To see the clouds crawl slowly across the sky, the bird flying past him, the sound of the soft laughter of children as they run past him. Mix that in with his almost constant use of marijuana to forget about his problems, he is a very problematic person although most wouldn't realise it. He knows this, scolding himself for using it too much but can't do anything but enjoy the warmth he feels when using it.
The only things that get him going is cooking, his kendo and violin lessons, watching anime and baking cupcakes. Otherwise, he is seen with his earphones in, watching as the effects of slo-mo take place. He talks a lot when he isn't doing any of those things and doesn't take things seriously but he could also be called excessively modest at times, even self-deprecating.
Ability;;
Donovan's main power is the ability to perceive reality in a slower way than it currently is when listening to classical music. This can be used to see the subtle changes in someone's movements, analyse their facial expressions, react to the situation with quick reflexes and be able to think ten steps ahead of the opponent. With his bokken, he can easily deflect knife and hand strikes, following up with a strike of his own. This ability raises his adrenaline to ludicrous levels hence the addiction. This ability doesn't work very well during fights when his bokken isn't in hand due to the high amount of adrenaline and energy being released when the ability is used in combat, the bokken acts as a conductor to let him course energy through so it doesn't stress him too much. With his violin, he can enrapture an entire audience of non-power users within a fifty foot radius, making them pause whatever they are currently doing and go still. They enter a coma-like state and is in this state as long as the music is playing. When the music stops, anyone who was captured by the music will be in shock. This ability does not work on power users.
Limitations;;
Don's main ability has the potential to kill him or, in the very least, blind him. During slo-mo, the eye muscles are being strained and pulled at, continuously sending signal after signal to the brain. This high amount of stress can lead to serious headaches and incapacitates him if he uses it too much. It also doesn't mean he is necessarily faster or stronger, it just means he has a chance to have a faster reaction time. If his body is not up to it, he will not be able to dodge bullets. An easy way to get rid of it? Take his earphones off or get rid of his bokken. The violin power does not work on power-users and requires the user to stay in one spot. This gives his opponents the potential to be sneak up on him. And for both, it is the ease of access. He cannot carry his violin case around. Too heavy for daily use. And his bokken, while lighter, still needs to be taken out of it's case to be used. Without it, his main power cannot be used.
History;;
Donovan was born into the Montgomery family and was always a lazy child. Right from the get go, he never caused trouble for his parents, being one of the calmer siblings in the the family. He was always laying around back then, never doing anything more than eat, shit and sleep even when he turned into a toddler. He was the kind of baby that woke up suddenly, looks you in the eye, gets bored and goes back to sleep. He was constantly napping and the only thing he ever got excited about was when he first listened to classical music. It was a very quiet afternoon and Mr. Montgomery was looking after his son in work. Bored out of his mind, his father turned the radio on to a piece by Mozart. He took an instant liking to it and it was the only thing that seemed to take him out of the trance of eternal laziness. Although this was a heart touching moment, he had never really connected with any of his family except for his mother.
In school, he was very popular but was distracted too much to even notice. Most of his teachers thought that he had serious potential for great things but due to how he could easily be distracted by the smallest of things, he never realised them and they checked it up as a short attention span. In reality however, it was due to his newfound slo-mo ability that made him distracted, everything he could study in much more detail and everything was slowed down. Even then, the adrenaline was pumping inside of him although not as much as he is currently, the headaches weren't common back then. This was when he found his second hobby. Cooking. Baking was the love of his life. There are photos of him wearing his miniature fluffy apron, eyes wide as he squatted in front of the oven, watching as a batch of brownies heated.
He began violin lessons at the age of thirteen and realised his second ability when he felt his fingertips tingle at the touch of the violin. He instantly connected to the instrument, man and violin becoming one. At the same time, he started his kendo lessons. This also started his almost rabid obsession with anime and the struggle to find self-control as he took his first drag of marijuana. The mix of drug usage, slo-mo addiction, laziness and emotional struggle for self-discipline made him a mess inside, resulting in the mess he is today. The carefree, light hearted individual with all the potential to reach the clouds, only to be shackled by the very power he was born with.
Extra;;
I mean like, dude. Kevin Hart though. And fun fact, Don is a virgin.
Name: Jonas Miguel Soberano Aliases: Jo, Baker Jo, Jo-Jo Age: 27 Birthday: 2nd January 1983 Ethnicity: Filipino-Caucasian Birth Place: New Zealand Location: On the way to Newnan, Georgia Gender: Male Major/Minor: Chemistry/Physics Occupation: Baker Languages: Filipino and English
Appearance
Height: 5'10 Weight: 103 kilograms Build: Swimmers Build, lean and toned but not overly muscled Eyes: Dark Brown Hair: Brown Skin Tone: Tanned Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: He has no tattoos and piercings but has one scar. The one from pre-Outbreak is scar that surrounds his elbow from the time he fell on his bike at full pelt (one of the most confident days in his life) and all his body mass landed on his right arm, making the forearm bone pierce through the elbow, making a bloody scene. He was soon put in hospital and was stitched up, still bearing the scars.
Psychology
Forgiving * Awkward * Kind * Childish
Sexuality: Heterosexual Relationship Status: Dating Personality: Jonas grew up in a sheltered life, living in the northernmost city in New Zealand, Whangarei. Having brought up by his mother and father as an only child, they were very protective in him and were reluctant to even send him to a public school. He isn't the type of person to fight (even post-Outbreak), although his father's fear of bullying forced him to teach Jonas Taekwando, lessons that his father hid from his mother. He is a very kind soul with no real grasp on how to lie and cheat. Due to the fact that he was sheltered, he didn't really let go of some of his more childish traits, constantly worrying about travelling in the dark and keeping a small teddy bear in his bag to cuddle when he is left alone by Victoria. He isn't very serious, constantly joking and smiling on the road, even after the Outbreak.
He can't bring himself to killing other human beings and has some reluctance on killing walker children. However, he doesn't have any qualms with killing animals (from going out hunting with his grandfather) and walkers, his travelling partner calling him "a pretty decent shot". He isn't the type to swear or get angry, consistently trying to calm his fiercer girlfriend. His soft voice and calming attitude came from his role model and grandfather, a New Zealand sheep farmer that had a strange obsession with bread and an unforgettable personality. He also got his obsession of bread from him and the desire to become a baker.
Habits: Talks to himself, scratches back of head, body cuddles (insert girlfriend name), cracks neck, quotes bread recipes at random times Hobbies: Swimming, baking (specifically bread), eating (specifically bread) Fears:
Losing his loved ones
Being alone
The Dark
Clowns
Likes:
Baking
Reading
Eating
Sleeping
Cuddling
Meeting new people
Shooting walkers
Dislikes:
Cleaning his Remington 700P Bolt-Action Rifle
Starvation
Alone in the dark
Mean people
Large crowds
Not eating bread
Cards On The Table
Pre Outbreak Skills:
Fading skills with shooting and maintaining hunting rifles
Cooking
Brown belt - Taekwando
Fading knowledge of basic survival skills
Swimming
Post Outbreak Skills:
Shooting and maintaining his Remington 700P Bolt-Action Rifle
Water purification
Shelter creation
Basic Survival Skills
Bare skill with a machete
Current Supplies:
Current Clothing - Sweatpants, Nike shoes, Mario t-shirt, fedora
Teddy Bear
Remington 700P Bolt-Action Rifle with two rounds inside
Eight more rounds
One bottle of water
A snickers bar
Trench Coat
Machete
History
Your First Walker Encounter: Jonas had been the first man in the bakery, quickly finishing a batch of fresh cupcakes for the morning. His obsession for cooking and baking in particular usually made him the first one into the bakery, trusted enough by the owner of the place to open the bakery in the early morning. He started to hum to himself, smiling as he took a long whiff of the sweet cupcakes. It was for the students, these cupcakes, the ones that wanted to buy something for lunch. He picked the best one out and sprinkled some more sugar on it, saving it for a nice little girl named Charlotte that always came to the bakery.
He chuckled to himself, remembering her request of "more sugar!" with a cute little pout on her face. As he calmly set down the tray of cupcakes on the counter, picking out the worst ones and began to eat them with a distasteful look on his face. Boss didn't like wastefulness so he forced his employees to eat the worst cupcakes instead of throwing them in the bin. As he stood there, staring at the brightly lot bakery, munching on half-decent cupcakes, he heard a small shuffling noise coming from the basement. Deducing that it was just Boss lounging around in there, he walked up to the basement stairs and called out "Boss! It's your boy Jonas! Are you there mate?"
No reply came, only a loud groan in response. Becoming increasingly worried, he flipped the switch to the basement on and carefully walked down, getting near the door and knocking. He heard a louder groan, a small howl and the sound of a figure slamming against the door. "Uh, Boss? You all goods?" There was increased a slamming, a hole punctured through the flimsy wooden door, revealing a grotesque, diseased arm.
Jonas backed away quickly, letting out a quick yelp of surprise. "Yeah nah Boss, you should probably get that checked out." The groans only increased as the hand retracted before he made three more powerful slams against the door, eventually breaking it. The Kiwi gawked at the shuffling, unrecognisable form of Boss as it lunged at him. He screamed, turning around and running, going through the kitchen, quickly weaving through tables and chairs before sliding under the metal door shutter. He immediately closed it down, locking it out before huffing and puffing at the sudden rush of adrenaline. He reached for his phone only to find he dropped it in the bakery. Not that it mattered anyways. 911 was flooded with calls.
History Before Outbreak: Jonas was born into the Soberano family, in the city of Whangarei. His life in New Zealand wasn't rough and although he was quite sheltered, he led a good childhood. His life at school was normal, he made some good friends and even had something brief with a girl but that ended very quickly. He picked the sport of swimming, training hard and fast for his parents but even that became a routine, his speed steadily increasing through the years. The only thing to brighten up his normal life was his visits to the farm and meeting his grandfather". Their first meeting didn't really go as plan. "So. Do you play rugby?" When he shook his head, his grandfather just sighed and muttered to himself. Feeling disappointed in himself and slightly sad, little Jo hopped off the tractor they were on and stared exploring. He toddled around the large vehicle before stopping before a high powered rifle.
"Gun!" He pointed at the wooden stick of death with a singular, chubby finger, shouting at the top of his lungs. His grandfather quickly ran over to him, gasping at the sight before placing a hand over his mouth and swiftly slinging his hunter's rifle over his shoulder. He knelt down on one knee, staring down at the toddler. "Okay, here's a deal. If you keep yer trap shut and don't snitch on me to yer Mum, I'll give you five bucks and a chance, when you're older, to learn how to shoot this thing right here." He gestured to the gun slung behind him with a small twinkle and then bringing out five dollars. The toddler just gaped widely before shutting his mouth quickly and grasping the five dollars with chubby fingers, toddling out of there towards the barn.
From that day on, the relationship between the two became the best of friends. When Jonas grew older, his grandfather kept his promise and taught him how to shoot a rifle. Thankfully, the boy was so excited that he didn't even think of how wrong it was to teach a child to shoot a gun until later on. The also growing fascination with bread started when his grandfather took him to the nearest town and showed him his former bakery. To the child, bread was the perfect mix of sweet and savoury and that belief had carried onto later life. The relationship between grandson and grandfather was almost inseparable.
At the age of fifteen however, the trips stopped. No one said why, no one said anything except cry. He knew what happened. He cried too.
Life was quite the blur after that point, at sixteen he gained a firearms license, practising the hunting and survival skills he picked up from his grandpa. Without a companion however, it became a boring experience and he stopped after a year trying to hunt alone. School was monotonous and easy, his love life was laughable, swimming was stagnating and life at home was quite a somber affair. This all changed when he graduated, being offered a scholarship in Chemistry at Emory University. The family celebrated for days before he eventually left on the first plane heading to Atlanta.
The hype of the first few days in college soon turned into monotony again. Sure the work was harder but there was nothing special happening. He made a close group of friends (no girl in sight, of course) and it stayed like this until the very last year of his university scholarship. There were rumours a new girl in town, quickly rising go to the higher echelons of the university and becoming the girl that every boy wanted. And of course, Jonas had to go ahead and meet her.
He shuffled into the library, picking out a random book and then sitting down on a seat. He took a glance towards his friend Ben, giving a small smile and a thumbs up. He simply rolled his eyes at his friend and transfixed his gaze towards the woman in front of him. It was a simple dare, some fanfiction-like story coming to life. The nerdy Asian boy asking out the blonde, popular girl. It was for free lunch, Jonas reasoned, don't be so worried. Even though, his face blushed crimson as he opened his mouth to speak, heart thumping like a raging elephant. "H-hey, uh, that's s-some n-nice, um, b-books ya h-have there." She smiled.
And a relationship straight out of a corny romance novel evolved from there. They were college sweethearts, his friends being supportive of him. He liked her and she liked him. They spent hours talking in the library and was eventually forced to get out when the cleaners came in. He showed her around the campus, finding himself at ease and relaxed around her. In those many months, it felt like he had someone who understood him. And then he started to look at the people around him
It was sneered at by the Populars, they disapproved of one of their own going out with a "nerd" like him. He was shy, always behind her whenever they walked together, hiding himself from the stares and laughing faces. She had protected him from them of course but throughout it all, he always thought he wasn't good enough. She was beautiful, courageous, popular, perfect and he was... a nerd. It wasn't like the romance novels. He never opened up from his shell, he was never "accepted". He just... stayed the same. Soon, he just faded away into the sea of faces, trying to escape from the whispers and in turn, going away from Victoria. He graduated and split from Emory, finding a job in a bakery before he encountered his first walker.
History Since Outbreak: After his brief but terrifying meeting with Boss and the realisation that his phone was back in the bakery, Jonas tried to calm himself down and call emergency services. It was still very early in the morning, a few days of light peeking through the horizon but he heard gunshots in the distance. He decided to walk the other way and take a longer route towards his house. There were very few people on the streets, most were homeless and just sleeping on the sidewalk. As he passed by an alleyway, he heard a loud crashing noise and screams coming from the shadows. His eyes widened and fear crept into him, forcing him to uncharacteristically leave and tuck himself deeper into his trench coat, pocketing his gloved hands.
Thankfully, the journey from the bakery to his apartment was a short walk and aside from that very brief altercation next to the alleyway, it felt like nothing happened. He quickly ran up the stairs of the old brick building, head swinging side to side, making sure no more of those things entered the building. He nervously opened his door and closed it behind him, locking it quickly. He let out a huge breath of air, as if he'd been holding it in for the whole trip. He hung his coat on a rack and picked up his phone, dialling 911. No response. He tried again. Dead. He reached for his secondary phone, Nokia smartphone just in case of emergencies and tried there. Same thing.
That was when Jonas was starting to really worry. He turned on the television and was immediately warned by a emergency broadcast, calling for people to go their nearest designated "safe-zone". He quickly packed as many supplies he needed though also taking things he wouldn't need such as his phone and charger, earphones, his teddy bear and his laptop. He shoved everything into his bag and used the GPS to make his way towards the safe zone. Outside, it was much more hectic now, streams of cars and people all heading for their safe zone. The endless screaming and the choir of honking noises were almost silenced by deafening gunfire nearby. It only made him run a little faster.
The Filipino weaved through the blockade of motor vehicles to cross the street, sometimes having to run over cars to get through. The gunfire was louder and the screams only intensified. This pushed him to face the soldier dressed in green camouflage, calling for everyone to calm down. He could've been younger than Jonas himself and was already dealing with a disaster like this? He only shook his head and snuggled himself further in his coat. The so-called "safe zone" was the ancient, large local library, turned into some "fortress" with soldiers armed with high-powered assault rifles walking through the masses. He scanned his eyes over the crowd before shaking his head, making a go for the stairs. Of one of those "things" were here, it would be a slaughter. He made his way onto the rooftop only to be stopped by another soldier in green, wearing an intimidating gas mask.
"What do you think you're doing here?" Although his voice sounded deep and macho, carrying a deadly Remington 700P, his hands were shaking with nervousness. Jonas stared up at the soldier with a curious expression. "Well, I'm not one of those 'things' if that's what you're asking."
The soldier aggressively shook his head before swiftly raising his gun to Jonas' head, clambering a round with a shaky hand. "Don't fucking lie with me, you infected piece of shit! Show your fucking bite mark! Huh bitch! Let me fucking kill you like I did my friend, huh? Let your brains splatter on the wall, is that what you fucking want, you piece of horse cock!?" The crazed man shouted at the top of his lungs shouting insults at the 27 year old man's head. Meanwhile, all his would-be-victim could do was stare the at barrel with wide eyes, heart beating a hundred miles an hour. His only thoughts were 'Oh god, I'm going to get gunned down by some raving lunatic.'
His fists clenched, tears forming in his eyes. He needed a way out of the situation. His gaze went downwards, at the soldier's wide open legs. He kicked hard. The soldier dropped down on his knees, dropping his gun and clutching his gonads. Jonas lunged to pick up the rifle and then hit his opponent's head with a quick snap with the butt of the gun, knocking him out in the end. He heard some more gunfire, some moving downstairs. He heard the loud screams cut short by the repetitive bang of the assault rifles. He nervously fumbled with the gun before deciding to rummage through the soldier's things, repeatedly saying sorry over and over again. Getting a good box of ammo, he sprinted towards a ladder leading down to one of the back alleyways and escaped.
A week later, as he was rummaging through a pharmacy store to look for painkiller, he met her once more. It was a quick and efficient technique, knocking his gun out of his hand and then immediately pointing her own to his head. "Don't move." He would've recognised the voice from a mile away. Tired and beaten, he started giggling at the sudden reunion, thinking back to the innocence of the olden days. When things were much more simple, in Emory University. He audibly gulped before he started to whisper in a calm, soothing voice "Victoria, remember me? It's Jonas, from college." He heard the sound of the gun arming, the weapon being pushed hard against his skull.
He was eventually able to calm her down from shooting him and coerce her into travelling with him outside of Atlanta. It was no longer safe there's the city was overrun by those things. The next few weeks were spent ducking and hiding the massive, roaming hordes that called Atlanta home, slowly making their way towards the outskirts of the city. When they escaped the city, they started to roam the state of Georgia, trying to do as many things as they could for survival. As the weeks turned into months and months into years, the two became closer, forming an inseparable bond together, forged through shared hardships and a love sparked in the wastelands of civilisation.
Extras
Character Quote: "We kill walkers, Victoria, not people. Everyone has a chance for redemption, a chance to live." Theme Song: MGMT - Kids How Many Walkers Have You Killed: At least thirty in the span of three years How Many People Have You Killed: Zero Why: He doesn't believe in killing other humans and only tolerates Victoria Anything Else: Had modelling as a side-job
*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.
"A smuggler dealing with human trafficking and the transport of illegal goods between every part of the city, Djandré is a man of profit."
Detail: Djandré is the definition of a miser. His dreams and values are all based on greed and getting rich. He has no care for anything but money and is angered very quickly if he doesn't get what he want, usually killing poor innocents in the process of letting steam. His aggressive and greedy lifestyle makes him a true loner and if he wanted to, he would escape the city and set up a money profiteering empire. He is a boisterous and talkative man, he loves toying and annoying people. He is by no means stupid otherwise he would've been caught an age ago.
He is clever and know when to bribe, when to hide and when to just fuck shit up. He is hardheaded however and once set on a decision, you will never reach a compromise. He is tall, muscular and quite sadistic, enjoying as people squirm as he stabs his sword through their gut. He is known for his swordplay but is an absolutely terrible shot. As a trickster and a man of mischievous conduct, he has many faces and his fingers are in many deals. Currently, he walks as "Jordan Sparge", gigolo and the gentleman in the night. A clever, seductive and humorous man, Jordan Sparge can be called the perfect man although it is all a lie made by some smuggler from the slums. Djandré made the character for the fun of it and the money a high-class gigolo can gain.
Name: Robbie Longinus Akiyama Aliases: Bob Age: 52 Birthday: 25/10/1963 Ethnicity: African American Birth Place: Englewood, Chicago, Illinois, USA Location: On the way to Georgia Gender: Male Major/Minor: N/A Occupation: Homeless, previous gang leader Languages: American English
Appearance
Height: 6"1 Weight: 81 kilograms Build: The fine line between fat and muscled Eyes: Deep brown eyes Hair: Greying hair Skin Tone: Dark Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Bob has two golden earrings that he wears as a lucky charm, a gift from his presumably deceased Aleina. Inscribed are the names of Shinku and Aleina, Father and Mother. He keeps them for respect to the deceased. As a catholic man, he wears a necklace with a finely made wooden cross although chipped under the right arm after a walker swiped at his chest. He has a scar right above his heart, a bloody gunshot wound from a rival gang and multiple scars on his elbows and knees, beaten after two years of travelling and constant attack from walkers.
This tattoo marks him as the leader of the 8th Street Leader. The gang was one of the more notorious gangs of Englewood. It was based around the downtown area, focusing on recruiting unstable youths into their fold. The gang likened themselves to Japanese culture and tattooed their members on the chest with an oni. This covers the chest area and stomach.
This marks a partner back when he was still living in a home. Layla Anderson was his soulmate, a fiery woman that loved him. Informed of his gang connections, she celebrated their anniversary of a year on the 2nd August, 2015. She was caught in a a drive by, falling into a coma and died ten days afterwards
This is a religious tattoo that he gained during his time in prison. This was when Bob was reconsidering the choices he had in life.
Kanji for kill. Branded after killing someone in the name of 8th Street.
Left
Right
He gained these tattoos mourning the death of his beloved Layla. The one on the left signifies one of his greatest fears and the one on the right shows how it took the woman he most loved.
Sexuality: Heterosexual Relationship Status: Single Personality: Bob, from what people have met of him, is a very grandfatherly person. Kind, spritely and funny, he is the kind of person that tells tales of the olden days even though he is only a middle aged person. He isn't the type to shout nor the type to be silent. He is a down to earth, religious man with no such assumptions or stereotypes about anyone. When he is offended or angry however, he isn't the kind to hold back punches. Though he isn't the type to pick a fight but always seems to get into them almost once a week.
Inside however, Bob is a pretty broken man. Having lost contact to his neglecting family, lost his girlfriend in a drive by shooting when he was locked up in jail, his friends don't know that he still lives and most of his comrades in 8th Street are either dead or arrested for life. He has no fall back, no one to go to. He leads the lonely life of the homeless man, scarred and beaten with no place to stay. As one of the "dregs of society", he feels self-conscious when he is around richer folk and doesn't like going out of his comfort zone much.
After the Outbreak, he has gone deeper into himself. Surviving the horrors of being in a poor, highly populated ghetto in the middle of a city and then going through said city and then having to travel on his lonesome (except for his ever loyal Chubs of course without any help from any of the passing cars, he has become jaded. He keeps his kindness to strangers, always wanting to talk out of any situations he is in but he is very quick to anger. He is prone to shooting at a car as it passes him on the roads, either killing the driver or disabling the vehicle, enough time for him to loot them. He is almost angry all the time, clenched fists and distant eyes show how broken he has become.
The only things to cool him is his harmonica playing, Iaido practice and prayers, constantly praying at a constant murmur under his breath, almost shouting at the top of his lungs as he goes into battle. But he keeps smart, rarely getting into encounters and staying off the beaten track, knowing that his navigation skills are good enough. He used to stay off drugs but the temptation of taking adrenaline shots was too much for him, raiding store after store and stuffing them into his bag, giddily using then before an encounter. This addiction is slowly killing him.
He hears the voices of Layla, Aleina and Shinku almost constantly, looking down at him as he travels from place to place to reach Atlanta. This drives him to the point of rage sometimes and at rare times, almost to the point of committing suicide. The stress and constant, boring, nerve-wracking loneliness mixed with the adrenaline has triggered his Multi Personality Disorder. The voices in his head... He buries it. He buries it all for another day. He knows that one day he'll die from the stress, break down and kill himself in a fiery explosion. But his mentality is "Not today". He is waiting for the perfect moment to release himself from the hell that is Earth and plummet himself to Hell, to burn for his sins eternally until the end of time itself. Habits: Bob flips every table he sees in sight when angered. He also has the habit of staring into space. Hobbies: Hiking Fears:
The voices in his head
Men with no remorse, no mercy, filled with spite and hatred for the world and it's denizens
Losing his best friend and only companion, Chubs
Getting connected to people
Likes:
His Harmonica
Iaido kata
Prayer
God
Children
The stars
Chubs
The sound of people
Dislikes:
The still silence
His lonely journey
Betrayal
Insensitive people
His own lack of discipline
The anger simmering inside of him
Cards On The Table
Pre Outbreak Skills:
Shooting - Assault Rifles (AR-15, AK-47u) and Handguns (Beretta, Revolvers)
Intimidation tactics
Torture
Iaido
Smuggling
Post Outbreak Skills:
Assault Rifle
Handguns
Katana
First Aid
Basic Survival skills
Current Supplies:
Bob currently has a pair of Nike shoes on, black trousers, a black polo shirt covered by a thick, grey hoodie. He has a cross around his neck, a beanie on his head and a broken watch in his pocket.
AK-12 - 19 bullets left
One Full Clip
Katana
Tibetan Mastiff - Chubs
A bag of 10 adrenaline shots
Five cans of food
Half-full 2 litre water container
A harness for
Box of Matches - 10 matches
History
Your First Walker Encounter: As a homeless man, Bob had no home. No protection from the early walkers, rising in the morning. And so, he slept on the park bench, covered in a thin blanket, clutching his harmonica in his hand. He awoke as the sun rose, yawning before stretching his arms over his head, the movement shifting the blanket to the floor. There was barely anyone in the park and he was currently the only homeless man in the park. Later on, he speculated that it was that the rest of them fled or died. He blinked once as his eyes focused, staring at a dark shape under the shade of an oak tree. A diseased and bloodied walker stepped into the light.
Freezing in fear, his eyes widened. The walking corpse started to shuffle forward, mouth opened wide, a frightening moan escaping from it's gaping gob. It transfixed it's gaze towards Bob and the shuffle turned into a power walk in a second, hands reaching for him. As soon as the sicko started to run towards him, the homeless man scrambled to gather his stuff, stuffing his blanket into his bag and the harmonica into his pocket. He slung the bag through both of his arms before running away from the terrifying sight, entering into a street full of them, a gang of triads with firearms barreling down the street, firing hot lead into the crowd. The sound attracted more of them. "Well. Shit."
History Before Outbreak: Bob was born in the ghettos of Chicago. Though damaged by ruthless gangs and drug lords, the area is still growing, due to a hard people and damn good police. Born into the streets, the little boy didn't know much about his biological parents. At the age of four, he was dropped on the steps of the head of a once powerful gang in the San Fran area. Shinku Akiyama, the so called "Last 8th Street Demon", a title that have confused many people who weren't aware of the name, was definitely surprised when he saw a small, sniffling child on his doorstep.
He sighed, his cold eyes renewed by the sight of such youthfulness. "Ahh, you are like me, eh? Left behind, sticking around while people move on. You're a loner like me." Shinku, then a comparatively young 44 year old, scratched his beard. "How about us two loners hang out for a while." The Japanese man took the young baby in. This changed both of their lives, for better or for worse? Well, depends on your perspective.
The years spent in the Akiyama household flew by, it was the childhood Bob never had really. His life became a happy blur and his days turn into a routine. He dropped into a routine with his technically adoptive father. He wakes up at 7:00 every morning and jogs around the block. When he arrives at 7:15, he will usually have to spray water at Shinku to wake him up for Iaido training. If the man was with Aleina, a comparatively young Caucasian woman that could be called Shinku's girlfriend and someone who Bob affectionately calls mother despite the bone crushing hugs he receives afterwards, he would drag his surrogate father out of bed and cover Aleina's modesty.
After an hour of training with Shinku, Bob gets ready for school. This early morning routine repeated day after day, not that he minded. Until one day.
Bob returned from his final day of High School. The school he attended wasn't bad, it was quite an alright school. He wanted to tell his father about his test results. He had studied for the test extremely hard with Aleina, having wanted to become some sort of biologist when he grew up. It was something to strive for, so worked he did. Graduation was also a blast. He entered the living room to see a horrifying sight.
Shinku had committed seppuku. At least that's what it seemed like. A letter was on the ground next to his dead body.
If you are reading this, then I am dead. I have gone the honourable way, the way of the samurai. I do hope that you who are reading this is Aleina, not you Robbie. Aleina, you are my love and the only woman that could ever stand being with me. Take care of Robbie for me please? Bob, if you are reading this, I am sorry. I cannot live with living this life anymore. Being a loner. Forgotten by the world. The word 8th Street was supposed to be a feared name and I ruined it by continuing my cowardly ways. My dad was a premier Demon and my whole heritage hailed from 8th Street. Really, if you think about it, there is no place in the galaxy for a Demon. But I want to give the reigns to you, Robbie. Don't make the same mistake I made where I left the 8th Street name to die. I beg you to make a new gang. Better, fiercer and more feared than the last. If you don't, you're rejecting a dead man's wish :P.
Hugs, kisses and all that shit. Shinku.
Bob left the scene of the seppuku, openly crying and breaking down, calling the local hospital to pick Shinku's body up. He assumed that Aleina hadn't come back from work so he didn't bother with going to her, only leaving a small note on the door. She wouldn't like what the boy was going to do, and he didn't have the courage to deny her to her face. He packed up and scoured the city for a new home, somewhere to live and build up his legacy. His brotherhood. His 8th Street Demons.
Robbie started out small, doing the odd job or two, robbing small stores and pick pocketing. He also began to spy on his opposition. There were the Crewz, a primarily African American group gang led by a man called Jay. They were quite a big gang, lots of territory and lots of money. They pale of course to the biggest gang in San Fran, "Drummond&Co", a foreign syndicate wanting to dip their fingers into Chicago's growing drug trade and criminal activity
It started off slow due to Drummond&Co beginning to take out any competition. The so called "Gang War" erupted in Chicago between the Crews and Drummond&Co, famously known because of the police effectively turning a blind eye to the various battles erupting in the mega city. Because of this, being the leader of an amateur gang wasn't the best. Gangs were absorbed left, right and centre, both big shot gangs wanting to get bigger and bigger to defeat the other.
As the war escalated, Bob began to seek for some men of his own. Because of the way the war was going, there were a lot of previously powerful gangs left in tatters, leaving them looking for some sort of glimpse of the old days. The man slowly started to gather some allies, making some sort of army of his own. One day his right hand man Thaddeus Long, an ex-Triad member and now part of 8th Street, suggested something. "Sir." The Chinese man said "I believe we should create some sort of uniform or emblem for these Demons. This motley crew of dogs needs to be separated from the rest of the filth." He gestured to the group of all ethnicities, colours and genders. 8th Street wasn't just made up of one ethnic group, there was a whole lot of different races.
Bob eventually agreed to Thadeus' ramblings of a uniform. Though not in a way the man expected. He made it compulsory to wear a red headband around the head at all times to signify their alliance with the Demons. There was Japanese Kanji on every single one of them, saying their rank and name. Rank worked like a number system. The higher respect and honour you have, the higher your number. So on Robbie's red band, it had the Kanji for 58 on it while some of the new recruits had the number 1 on it. It was also compulsory to learn the ways of Iaido, even those who complained that it was a dying art and "obsolete" in the age of guns. He smacked them with his bokken.
The 8th Street Demons grew under the other two, feeding from their crumbs and growing in power. They got most of their revenue from drug trafficking, money laundering and transport of illegal goods. They only snipped away at the other two big gangs, stealing a container there and stealing from a store they were getting income from. The gang eventually grew and grew until a huge 5000 members made it that they couldn't hide any longer.
Bob released the horde. From every chapter house, club and store the Demons hid in, poured member after member, surprising the various Crewz hangouts. They were eventually overwhelmed and in two days, the Crewz were no more. He turned to Drummond&Co but found that they were no more. They upped and left San Fran. He now had a monopoly on the city and was immediately robbed of it.
The police, their chief replaced by a man from Upper San Fransisco, began a series of crackdowns on gangs. Unfortunately for Bob, he was targeted first. Sleeping in the home of his girlfriend Layla, he was raided by an armed police force. Not risking a shoot out when the love of his life was there, he gave up his pistol and illegally acquired assault rifle to the police. He made sure not to leave many connections with the Demons, the only evidence that he was even apart of 8th Street was the headband he fondly places on his bedside table.
Charged on possession of an illegal firearm and connections with a highly dangerous gang, Bob was put in prison for a very long time. Thaddeus was more obvious with his connections and was suspected as the gang's leader. He was executed by electric chair for murder, aggravated assault, possession of illegal firearms, possession of illegal drugs, prostitution and connections to an aggressive and dangerous gang. These crackdowns wore the Demons down until every member was either gone from West Side, locked up in jail and in a few cases, placed in Death Row.
Bob was out of prison with no money, no job and no one to come back to. Layla had been killed by vengeful former Crewz members. He had lost communication with Aleina ever since he was placed into jail. He was now homeless and alone. And so, the former (and secret) leader of one of the most dangerous gangs in America was now reduced to the soup kitchens and cardboard beds. The vacuum that was left when 8th Street was dismantled was filled with some enterprising Triad offshoots, several drug cartels and upstart ethnic gangsters.
History Since Outbreak:
The Triads provided a very effective distraction tool for Bob as the sickos kept coming at them. It was bloody terrifying, the sight of diseased, bloodied, deformed corpses walking the streets of Englewood and presumably Chicago. He took a step forward and snapped a twig. Now if it wasn't so unfair and cliché that one of the sickos heard him snapping a twig while there was literal gunfire a few meters ahead of it, he would've shouted out something about "movie logic" and how it was "misrepresenting how much a reanimated corpse could hear". Instead, the homeless man just said one word. "Oh fuck" Okay, he said two then. Does "Oh" even count? Never mind.
He span around, snapping even more twigs and attracting more sickos towards him. He was in real trouble now, the twig snapping escalated. What kinda park had these many twigs in their premises anyways? Oh yeah. West side. The nearest sicko, a presumed pimp-turned-corpse, started to run at him, golden chain smacking against it's chest. Well, what was left of it. There was a kitchen knife sticking into it's "heart", scratch marks on it's face. If Robbie boy was looking, he certainly would've puked at the site. Terrifying buggers. Thankfully, our protagonist just kept running into the park. Unthankfully, he knocked into the walking corpse that he previously ran away from.
They both tumbled to the ground, the corpse trying to bite his face off. Him being the smarter of the two, the homeless man reached for a knife in his pocket and just stabbed the shit out of it, kicking it off him and kept running. And it continued like that for the rest of the day. Endless running, endless hiding, endless horrors. The sight of a child having her face bitten off by her parents, the sickos feasting on her corpse. A group of survivors surrounded by a mob and picked off one by one. The sound of screaming, wailing children as their elementary school was surrounded by a wall of corpses.
West and South side of Chicago had one of the worst hordes in the States. It was all due to inaction from the police. North side was almost a safe haven for the first few days of the Outbreak because of the evacuation of all law enforcement towards the North side, cutting off the other sections of the city. So while the undead festered in the poorer places of Chicago, the North side was taking a sip of tea and commenting how dreary the weather was.
It was a slaughterhouse. The dead ruled and blood flowed like rivers in the streets. It was utter and total confusion. People were trying to haul ass out of the city but there was a horrifying amount of sickos that seemingly came out nowhere. And that's what they referred to the walking undead. Sickos. Coined by one of the bitten patients in the Locker, a courtyard filled with the infected either willing or unwilling to be shot by some local police who stayed. "No escape de los psicópatas, hay escape para los malvados" which roughly translates to "No escape from the psychos, no escape for the wicked." These last words were heard by a near-deaf nurse who was treating the Hispanic man. She decided that "psicópatas" meant "sicko" and the term spread like wildfire as well as those famous last words. The Locker was eventually overrun, just like the rest of Chicago's poor districts.
Bob, after spending the first week living in an abandoned apartment room with limited supplies of food and water, had to make a tough decision. Either stay here in Chicago's West Side or try to escape the city. While deciding whether to go or not, he came across a Tibetan Mastiff puppy while exploring the complex, sobbing over the corpse of his mother. Not questioning why a family would ever consider buying a dog that could happily become bear hunters due to how big they were, the sight made his heart melt. The term "Chubs" was soon coined and Bob earned his partner for life. Carrying the little puppy with a baby harness, he escaped the city on foot.
From that statement, you would think it was a walk on the park. Like the sickos and bandits just let him go through. Well, the beginning of Bob's journey changed his entire life. Five. Fucking. Weeks. He tried and tried again, trying to find a way to go around the huge horde that seemed to pop out of nowhere. During this time, Bob trained Chubs as the dog grew bigger everyday. It was also during this time that he grabbed a smuggled AK-12 off the charred remains of a cartel leader
Minimal 4 paragraphs on how your character has survived up until this point.
Extras
Character Quote: "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil; For thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff comfort me." - Plasm 23:4
"He who kneels before God can stand before anyone." - Ephesians 3:14
"No escape de los psicópatas, hay escape para los malvados" - The prison that was Chicago
"See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil." - The Three Mystic Monkeys
"I believe in the sun even if it isn't shining. I believe in love even when I am alone. I believe in God even when He is silent." - Scrawl text in a Nazi concentration camp
"A soldier knows. A soldier always knows. For we have seen the rapture and survived it. You need guns to do righteous work, Ajay… for every gun is a bible, for every bullet… a sermon. (…) And he said to them ‘Go forth into all the world and proclaim the gospel to the whole of creation.’ Mark 16:4" - Longinus, Far Cry 4
Theme Song: A sinner through and through, all of us are. How Many Walkers Have You Killed: Too many to count How Many People Have You Killed: Enough for a man to be sent to hell twice Why: From bandits to rapists, murderers and thieves. Those who break his trust as well as those who leave him behind. All have experienced the sweet bite of death. Anything Else: He likes spelling it "T'sup".
*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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Altered Tundra
