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Should I allow female characters? Anyone who already created a character would be allowed a rewrite.

Yes. 0.28571428571429 28.6% [ 2 ]
Just other characters. The characters being asked for should stay as only male. 0.28571428571429 28.6% [ 2 ]
No. 0.42857142857143 42.9% [ 3 ]
Total Votes:[ 7 ]
This poll closed on January 29, 2013.
No longer accepting new votes.
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I'LL BE OUT OF MY MIND AND YOU'LL BE OUT OF IDEAS PRETTY SOON
                            ѕσ ℓєтѕ ѕρєи∂ тнє αfтєяиσσи
                  ↗↗↗↗↗IN A COLD
                            »»»»»HOT
                                            ⇈ A I R B A L L O O N
LEAVE YOUR JACKET BEHIND LEAN OUT AND TOUCH THE TREETOPS


FREDRICK GOLDSTEIN
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxThe Silver King


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                                                      Word of the murder spread out to all of Halafax in no time and the knowledge of it didn't even escape Fred. He rarely had any desire to hear of the petty squabbles that occurred in prosperous city, preferring to stay holed up in his large air ship, but the world sincerely felt that Fredrick Goldstein should know about this murder and care about it. Fred had no idea why the murder of one man was so important, but it apparently had both the Knights and the Skulls in a frenzy. Even that wouldn't have interested Fred in the slightest, but then the Colorless King became involved. Fred didn't know much about him, but he conjured up the Silver King's curiosity. Fred knew of all the other King's and even if he didn't personally know them, he had read up on who they were and what they looked like. The Colorless King, however, was an enigma. No one knew who he was and Fred was determined to find out. The second Fred heard about this one petty murder case, he knew it was his chance.

                                                      The airship docked and Fred stepped out from its hull, the ground already feeling alienating under his feet. Fred dreaded standing on the ground, preferring the gentle lull of his airship. He never came off his airship unless absolutely necessary because he felt like a bird with clipped wings. The airship had everything and anything that he could possibly need while the ground laughed and insulted him. Fred sincerely hoped that he would be rewarded for his efforts because there was nothing more than he hated than a wasted trip away from his airship.

                                                      Unsure of where to start, Fred looked towards the Dragon's tower. Despite his close friendship with the Gold King, the amount of times he had stepped into the building could be counted on one hand. Fred thought about giving his old friend a visit, but then decided against it. The faster he could return to his airship, the better, but he didn't know what to do. Regretting his decision to leave his airship already, Fred began walking towards where he believed the Eagle's police station was. He had never been inside, but he figured that if he could get any information, it would be from them. He had met the old Blue King a number of times, but there had been rumor that he had passed away and a newbie had taken his place. Fred couldn't help but wonder who the new leader of the Eagles was. Part of him hoped that the rumor was simply a rumor. He knew how the old Blue King operated, but the new one might prove to be a large obstacle in his plans. All Fred knew was that he would refuse to leave without any information.
E p i t a p h i c Lullaby's avatar

Unsealed Bibliophile

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                                                                  "Would you like more water, sir?"

                                                                  Kyan blinked as the polite male voice broke him from his mental reverie. Stopping his index finger in the path it traced around the rip of the crystal glass, he looked up at the elderly man tipping a pitcher towards him. After a few moments of a rather awkward silence Kyan nodded and removed his hand from the glass to place it flat on the table. With silent blue eyes, he watched the glass fill before thanking the waiter with a nod of his head. Replacing his finger on the rim of the glass, Kyan resumed the path it carved on the top as the waiter walked away.

                                                                  It wasn't all that surprising that Kyan was caught unawares by a waiter. He would have liked to claim that he was always aware of whatever went on around him. He would have liked to claim that he wasn't caught unawares by the waiter but he would be lying. Even in his most aware time, Kyan always seemed to not pay attention or otherwise distracted. When he had been younger, his adoptive father had often told him to get his head out of the clouds but it went without saying that Kyan almost never listened to the man.

                                                                  Now, as he sat twisting his finger round and round the rim of a glass, Kyan wished he'd listened to the man a bit more. It was hard enough keeping himself from spacing out; he didn't need someone else jerking him out of his thought-filled reveries and think him a thoughtless imbecile prone to fits of mind-absences. Given his political and social status, it would hurt his reputation and hurting his reputation was something Kyan didn't want or need.

                                                                  Shaking his head, Kyan sighed and flagged down a waiter. Within a few minutes, Kyan was tucking his card back into his wallet and leaving the restaurant. It didn't take the man long before he found himself arriving at the tall, sparkling building that was the HQ for his 'clan'. Assisted out of the inconspicuous car by a valet-as Kyan didn't like unwanted attention drawn to himself by the use of flashy cars, the man tipped the suited boy and entered the building, not bothering to watch the car get driven away into the parking lot to the side of the tower. With due time, Kyan was walking into his own office. Shrugging off the white pea coat, Kyan hung it up on the back of the door before sinking into the leather chair at the far end of the room.

                                                                  Kyan had heard about the death of a Skull member, one Tony Parker. It had not only the Skulls up in arms, but the Knights as well, even rumors that the Colorless King might be getting involved. It was hard not to hear about these things as they happened, especially since the Knights seemed to report to him on important matters. The difficult thing, however, was to keep his neutrality. Kyan, as a rule, didn't like conflict or being brought into a 'war' that may be going on between gangs. He tried to remain neutral in all things, to a point, and though he worked closely with Fredrick's gang, it was quite easy so far.

                                                                  Kyan frowned softly and tapped his fingers on the desk, a soft hum sounding through the man. Still, Kyan knew there would come a time when he couldn't keep himself and the Dragons neutral.
Sempiternal-Serpent's avatar

Doting Gekko

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Location: Halafax Police StationxxxxMood: Tired

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                                              Gil suppressed a yawn as he carefully measured a small spoonful of caffeine powder and dumped it into his tea. That would have to do in lieu of sleep for a few more hours. The rest of the night shift had already gone home, and the morning crew were filtering in. He offered one a mumbled good morning, and then went back to his tea. Caffeine, milk, honey, check. He stared dumbly at the steaming cup for a moment before lifting the mug and taking a long, searing glug.
                                              xxxxx
                                              "Jesus!"
                                              xxxxx
                                              Nothing like white-hot pain to wake you right the hell up on a slow morning. Gil blinked and rubbed his throat, his alertness returning. It had been a stupid and painful idea, but the was glad he did it. He took another, much smaller, sip as he left the break room, returning to his desk. This damn serial murder case he was working on might not be as high profile as the recent murder of Skulls member Tony Parker, but that didn't make it any less important. "Third one like it..." he muttered, staring at the gruesome photos of the scene. It was a neat bit of work- a dock worker from the airship yards, murdered quickly and brutally. Forensics hadn't managed to pick up any fingerprints, and he was still waiting for them to get back to him about the bloody footprints they'd found at the scene... But if his hunch was correct, they'd be the same damn tracks he'd found at the other civilian murder site last month- men's shoes, not designer, tread partially worn away on both feet, most likely purchased at some superstore where dozens of its identical cousins had been sold. In other words, absolutely useless in trying to narrow down the suspects. Narrow down the suspects, hah! That implied he had any damned suspects to begin with. Gil groaned, letting his head thunk down on the desk. He'd been staring at these photos all night, and they still refused to give up their secrets. "Maybe I do need to take a break," he said into his desk. "I'm obviously not doing anything to help here." He lifted his head to stare again at the photos, flicking through them one by one. Overview shot of the murder scene. The detached arm, a few feet from the body. Detail shot of the man's pulverized face, both eyes swollen shut in death. Body from possible angles. Shots of the footprints. Then the final shot- the word Elisaveta painted in blood on the side of the warehouse next to which the poor man had been killed.
                                              xxxxx
                                              Elisaveta... now there was a name that was quickly becoming known to all who lived in the city through its repeated appearance in the graffiti overtaking the more packaged advertising grime of Halafax. Gil took a sip of his tea, leaning in to stare at the word. It was a name, obviously, but it had to mean something. This wasn't the first time the word had been found painted in blood. He took another, longer sip of the tea, now that it was just warm instead of boiling. It still burned some on the way down his throat, energizing him. Whether the murderer and the vandal were one in the same, he didn't know, but it was a better lead then trying to track down every single person who had bought the criminal's shoes. Gil shut his computer off, drained the last of his tea, and stood, grabbing his stuff to head out.
                                              xxxxx
                                              On his way out however, he paused in the lobby at the sight of the familiar face of a man he'd never met. Gil straightened and approached the Silver King.
                                              xxxxx
                                              "Can I help you, sir?"

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The road lead Erik towards the center for the Knights. The airship had landed at some point and he could only imagine why. His hopes were on that Gil would be on duty. The poor thing always was but he was useful. A bit of teasing could get Erik what he wanted to hear even though the chance that there was no change in Tony's case was slim to none. "No pain in trying, right?" He spoke aloud to himself, the lack of people in the immediate area giving him some measure of privacy. "Even a little bit would be nice to hear."


The station was only across the street, Erik could see the tall chain link from the opposite side. The lot looked empty save for a few impounded cars and a motorcycle or two. He pulled back his sleeve to check the time, 1:37pm flashing up at him with brightly lit numbers. Erik let his sleeve slide back down his arm as he hopped off the curb to cross the quiet thoroughfare.


"Ah! Gil!!" He spotted the purple haired man and trotted to get his attention but his eyes fell on an unfamiliar man. "Who's your friend?" He asked, puzzled. There was a small chance that this was the famed "Silver King" but he was so reclusive that Erik had his doubts.

xxxxx
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xxxxx
User ImageXXXXXUser ImageXXXXXUser Image
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XXXXXXXXXXXT h e P h a n t o m M e n a c e

Lennox Leonardo Lomaneiy

Here they sang about tomorrow,
but tomorrow never came...


Attire: {Ushanka} {Shirt} {Coat} {Pants} {Shoes} {Backpack} {Masks (In Backpack)
Weapons: {Gun/Silencer (In Backpack)} {Knives (In Backpack)} {Gas Grenades (In Backpack)}
Emotions:{Apathetic}
Playing/Singing: "King for a Day - Pierce the Veil"


Oh my friends, my friends, forgive me... That I live and you are gone


Phantom faces at the window! Phantom shadows on the floor!


                      Lennox was not having the best of days. The over-turned ushanka that lied on the ground was gathering seemingly everything except for money. He didn't want to resort to stealing while the city was in such a state of panic, and asking for business from one of the kings was out of the question. He didn't have enough money to gamble, and most piano-bars were empty due to people's newly revived fears of being murdered. So he simply sang on the busiest street corner he could find. His beautiful voice rang through the crowds, but people were simply passing by, acting as if he was just an apparition. He soon finished singing his slightly offensive song. It was meant to sort of poke-fun at the kings, but he didn't want to cause any trouble, so he decided to go for a song that usually stopped the crowds. He took a deep breath of the chilly air and began to sing "These Streets Are Alive". He threw all of his emotions into it, being sure to fake a couple tears as he sung to the passer-bys. Most people passed him and/or said something insulting to him, but he eventually caught the attention of a couple people. About half of them threw their loose change into his hat, but the other half just listened and stared at the Russian hat that lied on the damp ground.

                      "Help me, stranger! I'm begging for more!" he sung to those that stared at the hat, "You've got plenty to spare, but you just stare at the floor." He took a breath and tried to hold his true tears in, "Help me stranger! These streets are alive! I'm a capable man, I just got lost on this ride. Such is life..." He continued to sing his very-well rehearsed song as his mind wandered. He didn't like the idea of being homeless, he actually hated stooping to such low levels as becoming a street preformer, but it brought money in that he couldn't make by committing his crimes. "I dream of a bed made of white roses. A house blue and red with a short white fence," he continued to sing, as true tears began to run down his cheeks. How he wished to live in a house, "What bliss..."

                      As he sang the last note, he sighed and picked up his hat. There was about enough money to buy a cup of coffee and he rubbed his eyes as he stuffed the money into his pockets. He put the hat back on and walked into the near-by launromat to wash his clothes. He stuffed his jacket and hat into a washing-machine, as well as his shoes and shirt. He walked around the laundromat, shirtless, and slyly snatched another pair of pants from an old couple's basket. His eyes were still watering as he put the couple's class into his machine and started it. He then walked into the bathroom and dropped his backpack on the floor, trying his best not to break anything inside of it. For some reason, there was a shower in the laundromat and Lennox ceased the opportunity of a hot shower, bringing his backpack into the shower with him, to be sure no one could even so much as glance at it. The shower's water drowned the tears that left his eyes as he breathed heavily and tried so desperately not to cry any louder than he already was. It was extremely embarassing to be a grown man with no home, no money, a job killing and kidnapping people, and reduced to stealing clothing and showering in public. And on top of his otherwise pathetic life, he was crying like a child, only upsetting him more. He took a deep breath of the steam around him and began to sing very quietly to himself, through his tears, "Imagine living like a king someday..." he sang slowly, "a single night without a ghost in the walls." he took a tearful breath. "We are the shadows screaming take us now, we'd rather die than live..." his voice was shaky and he wiped his eyes again, "...to rust on the ground..."


Imagine Living Like a King Someday


Attire: {Naked} {Masks (In Backpack)
Weapons: {Gun/Silencer (In Backpack)} {Knives (In Backpack)} {Gas Grenades (In Backpack)}
Emotions:{Upset}
Playing/Singing: "These Streets Are Alive - I the Mighty"


{{Over and Out Comrade:}} Sorry for such a crappy post. Bleh. d:
Devizelous's avatar

Partying Prophet


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                                                                  LOCATION : On the street - A few blocks form the Station || || COMPANY : None

                                                                  “They’re getting bolder, aren’t they?”

                                                                  Daniel turned to the young recruit at his side, taking in the anxious, almost fearful expression on the other’s face. He smiled reassuringly to counter the look, but there was something troubled in the Lieutenant’s eyes – a common mien among the Knights of late – and it dulled whatever confidence he had hoped to share with his company.

                                                                  “It’s alright, we’ll do something.” Daniel wasn’t sure what though. They truly were getting bolder: the other gangs with neither kings nor colors.

                                                                  The death of Tony Parker was certainly a heavy blow to the Skulls, and its impact rippled over to the Knights as a priority murder case. None of them, however, counted on the event stirring up the underground community, and to such a degree. Now, previously clandestine organizations were coming out into the open, encouraged by such a high-profile kill and by a perpetrator still yet to be found, taking shots whenever and wherever the saw the chance. Daniel wasn’t sure how the Skulls were taking it but the Knights had their hands full to overflowing.

                                                                  Daniel heaved a weighty sigh then, allowing himself the moment to appear as worn and weary as his colleagues have always suspected but never seen – and he regretted it as soon as it came out. He had forgotten his company and a quick peek at the boy told him that, on top of nervous, he was now also fidgety and paranoid, eyes shifting to and fro as if expecting a drive-by just blocks from the police station. Daniel thought quickly.

                                                                  “Here,” Daniel handed the youth a rumpled bill. “Why don’t you go back and buy us something to go with our chocolate? Pick whatever you want, my treat.”

                                                                  The Lieutenant chuckled at how quickly the boy’s expression turned then, watching fondly as the other zipped back down the street to the café they had just exited minutes prior. Ah, if only Sekihisa was as easy to cheer up. Given their situation, particularly the lack of substantial leads on the Parker case, even Daniel was avoiding their king. Maybe he should drop by the Empirica tonight and see if his barkeep friend has had more luck with intel.

                                                                  Nodding to himself as he settled that matter, Daniel stood idly as he sipped his hot coco, and was promptly shot.

                                                                  As soon as the first bullet hit, Daniel threw up a protective barrier on instinct and spread it as far as he could to protect both him and surrounding bystanders from the sudden gunfire. Still, he saw a number of people go down, and he grit his teeth as he recognized the blue uniform down the street fall with the rest of them. Daniel could only glare at the retreating motorcyclists as they continued shooting aimlessly to avoid being followed.

                                                                  An actual drive-by, and just blocks from the station. “Too bold…”



                                                                  || OOC : ***


                                                                  SAWI.
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Conlaodh Kade Campbell

T h e C o l o r l e s s K i n g

          ...there's a lack of color here.


Attire: {Jacket} {Pants} {Shoes}
Weapons: {Unarmed}
Emotions: {Frustrated}

This is fact not fiction


                                                      Conlaodh's hands were bound to his back as the police at the station spat on him. "You piece of s**t! How could you kill another human? I don't understand monsters like you," one of them said as Conlaodh was pushed through the crowds.

                                                      "You're going to be away from civilization for a long time," the one pushing him said. The others simply cheered as the "felon" was pushed into a cop car and more spit landed on his colorless clothes. The cop closed the door behind him and walked to the driver seat. "What do you have to say for yourself?" he said as he sat in the car. Conlaodh simply glared at the man through the rear view mirror and the cage between them. A couple minutes passed and the man responded to Conlaodh's silence, "Yea, I'd be silent, too." Conlaodh rolled his eyes at the stupidity of the man and nearly everyone else in the city that simply didn't understand what "mute" meant. Conlaodh rested his head on the tinted window, soon becoming confused by the fact that the driver passed the city's prison. As they passed Conlaodh lifted his head from the window and gave the man a look of confusion as he raised an eyebrow and gazed through the rear-view mirror.

                                                      "We're taking you back to the mental institution," the man said almost sarcastically. Conlaodh's confusion only grew more. Was this man really going to take him back to the place he had escaped so long ago? Why was he not going to prison? "It has something to do with the fact that you've killed before and now that we have such an insane serial killer in our hands, the detectives are going to try to talk some information out of you, and the safest place to keep you isn't prison at the moment." Killed before? Serial Killer? Conlaodh could feel the rage boiling inside of him. Not only did he not kill Tony Parker, but he never killed anyone. He tried to calm himself down by taking a deep breath, but it only made him angrier. And I can't even say a damn word to defend myself! This is such bullshit! He began to slam his body into the door as hard as he could.

                                                      "Hey! Knock it off back there!" the man yelled from the front seat. Conlaodh ignored him and continued. After about fifteen hits, he quit and held his head down. Staring at his lap. "We're almost there, calm the hell down or I'll taze you, a*****e."

                                                      Conlaodh sighed and began to unlock his handcuffs with his sharp fingernails. It took the last ten minutes of the ride, but he eventually unlocked the cuffs, ready for his escape. "Alright, you damn scumbag, we're here," the man said as he turned around and spat in Conlaodh's face. Why would you spit on someone who you think just killed a series of people? Do you WANT me to kill you? Conlaodh thought to himself, wishing he could threaten the man.

                                                      He walked around the car to Conlaodh's door. The seconds turned to hours as Conlaodh stared at the man's hand through the window, waiting for his chance to escape. Waiting for his never-ending chase. The man's fingers wrapped around the door handle and Conlaodh took a deep breath as the door began to open. The gap between the door and the car was barely a centimeter when Conlaodh suddenly kicked it as hard as he could with his right foot. The man was thrown back slightly and Conlaodh jumped out of the car, rolling as he hit the sidewalk. The man reached for his tazer, but Conlaodh used his now-free right hand to grab it and turn it back toward the man. He pulled the trigger, sending an unbelievable amount of voltage through the officer's body. The man fell to the ground, unable to move, and Conlaodh ran as fast and as far as he could. He climbed buildings and jumped over alleys. He pushed through crowds and within the next hour he was on the other side of the city, and shapeshifted into a "different person" in a stolen shirt. He had shifted his hair to a bright red and his eye color was then a light blue. And his exterior was that of a woman's. Surely he blended in much better this way. He made his way through the crowds, not doing much but circling the block over and over, and hoping to walk this thing out.




Attire: {Jacket (Carrying)} {Pants} {Shoes} {Stolen Shirt}
Weapons: {Unarmed}
Emotions: {Angry}
Song of the Moment: "{XXXX}"


{{Over and Out Comrade:}} I'm sorry if I screwed something up. This is supposed to be after he escapes prison, and they think that now he's some serial killer, so he's already escaped prison once. (That was in his bio).


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Sempiternal-Serpent's avatar

Doting Gekko

9,950 Points
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User ImageUser Image
Location: Halafax Police StationxxxxMood: Cautious

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                                              The Silver King had hardly had a chance to open his mouth to reply before he was cut off by an unfortunately not unfamiliar voice. Gil gritted his teeth to keep from sighing. He didn't even need to turn around to know that it was that prostitute from the Skulls, the one whose name he was doing his best to forget. Not the sort of person you want to have hovering around when in the presence of one of the Kings.
                                              xxxxx
                                              "I'm sure if you're here, then it's important." Gil gestured towards the door to the offices. "I don't think that our King is in right now, but I'll do my best to help you."
                                              xxxxx
                                              He glanced over his shoulder, only to find that Erik had pranced after him. He made a shooing motion, which he was fairly certain would go ignored. What did he do to deserve this? The last thing he needed was for this guy to be hovering around the station. For all Gil knew, he was here to try and scope the place out for information. An unpleasant thought crossed his mind- what if Erik had come here to try and pump the Silver King for information? He'd need to handle this situation carefully.
                                              xxxxx
                                              "If there's something you need Erik, just wait here and I'll send someone out to help you." Lies, lies, lies, but hopefully calling him by name and promising some 'service' would keep Erik distracted long enough that Gil could think of a plan that wasn't complete garbage.

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