Rebeltalia

OOC:

Name/Nickname: Jenna

Age: 16

Time zone: CST (GMT -6 (-5 w/o DST) )

Activity levels (1-10, 1 being the lowest, 10 the highest): 7-8

Password (hidden somewhere on this blog): Accepted!

IC:

Character: South Italy/ Italy Romano

Character’s Name: Lovino Vargas

Age: 19

Preferred weapons (1 melee, 1 ranged. You will be using these on missions and such.): Dagger, Pistol

Strengths (at least 3): Skilled with weaponry (espeically guns), good heart, excellent pickpocket, hard worker (when he feels like it)

Weaknesses (at least 3): Lazy, a bit clumsy, a bit of a scaredy cat, harsh/vulgar/tempermental

History (At least 2 paragraphs): Born into a lower middle class family, Lovino lost his parents at a young age and was sent to live with his Uncle in Underling. Also known to him as Hell on Earth. Born in the South of ITaly, such a place was not unusual, though the corruption wasn’t new either. He joined the rebellion anyway though, because he was tired of getting pushed around.

He was also tired of others getting pushed around, after seeing his best friend nearly killed because she called out Sabine on his bullshit. That was the real tipping point between, ‘yeah I’m not fond of the guy’ and ‘fuck lets blow this motherfucker up’.

His home life is non-existent basically, hand his sparetime is consumed by working on modifying guns and other weapons. He’s a bit obsessed with them, and as such, is known to keep a few on him at all times. He’s worked hard since he moved to Underling, maintaining ot only Rebellion activities, his gun hobby, and a steady diner job. 

Sample Writing (At least 2 paragraphs): “Shit, shit, shit. Where the fuck is it?” Lovino swore, digging through the desk in his basement room. He was 19, living at home with his Uncle, and secretly part of a huge growing rebellion. His uncle wasn’t around much, and never went down to the basement, so it was the perfect place to keep his shit. Like all his guns. He had been going to polish his favorite, when he discovered it missing.

Now in a frenzied panic, he was tearing apart the room, looking for it. It was his precious Tanfoglio pistol, a gift from one of the resistance members, his usual one he kept on him. 

"Shit!" He swore once more, before tossing up the coat from the pile of clothes, finding the pistol laying there, having forgotten he’d put it in his coat when he went to the meeting yesterday. "Oh thank the heavenly lord."

Headcanons (2 to 4): - Was religious, now really isn’t, but if freaked out, instinctively begins to go to the Lord’s Prayer.

- His pistol is a Tanfoglio Combat Sport. It’s his baby.

- He has a thing for guns and explosives and fire in general, so he’s probably not the best person to piss off. 

OOC:

Name/Nickname: Pauline

Age: 16

Time zone: UTC, my native tongue isn’t English - I hope it doesn’t suck too badly, though.

Activity levels (1-10, 1 being the lowest, 10 the highest): 7-8

Password (hidden somewhere on this blog): Accepted!

IC:

Character: England / United Kingdom

Character’s Name: Arthur Kirkland

Age: 21

Personality (2p and Nyo only): /

Appearance (2p and Nyo! only): /

Preferred weapons (1 melee, 1 ranged. You will be using these on missions and such.): Melee: Daggers, the smaller the better - Arthur likes to hide them somewhere in his clothes, big weapons would be inconvenient that way. Sometimes he uses trailing curved knives, though. As for ranged, he uses a classic Glock 18C - it’s small as well, so he can keep everything on his body the whole time.

Strengths (at least 3): Arthur has a really good gut feeling that saved him multiple times (of course, it isn’t something you should rely on every time - but he does). He’s good at freestyle running/Parkour, and he’s a great liar.

Weaknesses (at least 3): He’s really impatient, loses his temper too quickly too often, and while he has stamina, he can’t sprint for a long time. He’s quite stubborn as well.

History (At least 2 paragraphs):

Arthur’s mother divorced as he was five years old. She stayed in London for only a few more months, until she decided that she had to get out of her old flat that reminded her of her ex: and so, as some sort of random act, she moved to Underling. The massive change of the environment was a huge problem for Arthur during the first years. His mother found an underpaid job that barely let them survive, but they managed somehow for years.

Arthur got a job himself as he turned fourteen, and for a year things went better for him and his mother, with both of them making money. He didn’t stay in school after 10th grade, mainly because he didn’t have the time and he didn’t like school anyway - he learnt with books from the library, though.

As Arthur turned seventeen, his mother died in a street fight between Sabine’s men and his enemies. One of the participants, who knew Arthur and his mum on bowing terms, told the boy later - his mum got stabbed by someone of Sabine’s men, and apparently she bled out rather than dying quickly. It could’ve been an accident, Arthur isn’t sure about that, but after he got over his shock he joined the rebels. He tried to find his mother’s murderer first, but he stopped trying as soon as he noticed that it wouldn’t work.

He had a hard time adjusting once again - he wasn’t strong, and he never really learnt how to fight, but he was quick, and after some older people taught him, he quickly got better - he was eager to learn once again, and Arthur actually missed that feeling. Now he’s quite content with his life, no matter how dangerous it may be.

Sample Writing (At least 2 paragraphs):

(( This takes place just after his mother’s death - Arthur doesn’t know yet, though. ))

It was getting dark outside, the sun slowly setting while the street lights began to light Arthur’s way - or they should, but they didn’t, only were dark silhouettes against the dark blue sky. Arthur’s hand around the penknife in his pocket tightened. It wasn’t safe to be outside this late, not if the alleys were dark and dubious people were walking around, but his shift had been late, too late. He really looked forward to eating something and then getting his sleep a few minutes later.

He took two steps at once each as he climbed the stairs to their apartment, glad that nobody drunk had been walking around, glad that he didn’t have to use the item in his hand. His steps echoed through the night, click-clack, click-clack, the metal under his feet a little too loud for his liking. He took the backpack from his shoulder, reached into it, and a minute filled with cussing later Arthur had the key to the flat in his hand.

As he arrived at the door though, it was wide open, and his mother’s shoes weren’t where they were supposed to be. Maybe, Arthur thought, maybe she only gave their neighbours some flour - maybe he shouldn’t worry, but he did. He went inside, carefully, dropped his backpack as he entered, and then he smelt the smoke in the air, aftershave. His mother never brought men home, and if she would she would’ve told him. There was someone in the apartment. And they weren’t supposed to be there.

Headcanons (2 to 4):

- Arthur doesn’t live in his mother’s apartment anymore, but he visits it every year on the day of her death, just stands in front of the door for some time, even if different people live there now. There’s no grave for him to mourn at, after all.

- He has conflicted feelings about his father - on one hand, the man left him and his mum, but he’s sure that he got his reasons. He doesn’t search for him, though, maybe because he doesn’t want his father to see what happened to him.

OOC:

Name/Nickname: Lyn

Age: Turning 16 in August

Time zone: GMT+2

Activity levels: 7 – 10, all depends on my laziness

Password: Accepted!

Note: English is not my first language; in fact, it is my second foreign language. My grammar as well as vocabulary may be, and most likely are, way below the levels of everyone else who might be applying/is applying or already in the group. I really hope that this disadvantage of mine doesn’t ruin my chances in being accepted.

IC:

Character: United States of America

Character’s Name: Alfred F. Jones

Age: 22, turning 23 in July. I think 19, which is America’s age, is too young for this RP.

Personality: —

Appearance: —

Preferred weapons:

Handgun – carries it within a special pocket inside of his bomber jacket.

Taser – tucked into a holder on the left side of his belt

Expandable baton – also on his belt – right side

Strength:

Aims for success – Alfred will do anything to get what he wants. Sometimes he can be so focused on winning, success and fame that he will become completely oblivious to who he might be hurting or what damage he might be inflicting.

Positive at all times – Sometimes negativity is the only reason why one is failing. Well, Alfred certainly isn’t that type of person. No matter how grim or dark the situation might be, Alfred will always find something good in it.

Serious when deemed necessary – Not always, but only when necessary, Alfred will look past the humorous little details and focus on what really matters; be it if a friend is in need or if an old lady needs help crossing the street.

Charismatic - Alfred is known to be able to make friends really fast; he is liked, but not always favoured and can get along with almost anyone. However, his friends never seem to stay for long.

Energetic – Always pumped to take up new challenges, even if it means risking and losing something. He will always pleasantly surprise everyone with his energy, displaying it with his talk-activeness and ‘good’ humor.

The Hero – Above all else, Alfred is the hero! He will help everyone, doing everything he can to be recognised as someone worth their trust and loyalty.

Weaknesses:

Rude – Well, actually, he just doesn’t know when enough is enough. Alfred will joke with everyone, even about his or her appearance, personality, likes etc., but he will never know when it is enough of the joking around. Other than that, he is rude in general; will walk up to a chubby girl and point out that she is, in fact, chubby, for example.

 An egoist – There is no one in the world who Alfred loves more than himself. (Well, maybe his cat.) He will talk about himself as if he were a god, someone worth praising, even though he lives a normal life with nothing exciting in it and is in no way better than others.

Loud – He is loud, and, to top it off, he does not know when to quiet down. He will laugh loudly in the middle of a funeral, and maybe, on a good day, will burst through someone’s door, all but yelling about how he ‘totally beat the shit out of that fucked up monster, man!’.

Oblivious – It’s not that he can’t read between the lines, and it’s not that he can’t pick up on the small signs, he just chose not to. Why bother, when he could just do whatever?

History:

Born into an upper-middle class family, Alfred had his life rather easy in the beginning. Despite the situation that Underling was in at all times, Alfred never truly felt it. He saw it, he knew about it, but never wanted to acknowledge it. Call it as you wish, but all the murders, unexplained deaths and disappearances never seemed to bother the constantly bubbly American.

His parents had raised him to be the perfect picture of an all-American city boy, and he kept that image up until he hit the dreaded teen years. As expected, and as most teens do, Alfred became rebellious more than his parents and family had predicted. Not to mention, he got into quite a bad circle of friends. Drugs, alcohol, sex and various other methods of “entertainment” were used at the time, illegal for the under 18-year-old kids, but nothing stopped them from doing it. Who could stop them, anyway? Not their parents, nor the police, that’s for sure.

Gangs, mafias and groups of the like were all known around the city, and obviously, with the circle of friends and acquaintances Alfred was in, he got dragged into that type of business, too. He learnt how to use a gun, he always knew how to throw a good nice ol’ punch, and with the added effort of learning “self defense”, Alfred became quite the popular target. Previous activities looked like nothing compared to what he got himself into, never truly caring about his parents worrying back at home.

One morning, however, it suddenly hit him. Like a brick thrown at his face, going full speed, Alfred realised exactly what he was doing with himself. Nineteen at the time, fully capable of expressing his full potential, Alfred was in the middle of some deep, deep shit. In a frenzy of panic and worry, Alfred ran away from his problem that had popped up all too suddenly. He went as far as faking his own death with the help of a few better friends. And with that, his history of being the bad guy ended, the experience leaving him with nothing but regret and shame, but also the need to be a better person. A hero.

Nevertheless, even now, at the age of 22, Alfred doesn’t seem to be completely done with his ‘rebellious’ stage. The drugs, stealing, bullying and alcohol were all gone out of his life, but his spirit lives on, prompting him to join the rebellion.

Sample Writing:

The streets of Underling were crowded at this hour, people of all kinds passing others by, leaving nothing but a hint of their existence. The gloomy lights of the poor street lamps illuminated the dusty, dirty pavement in a blurry orange hue. Laughter, sometime angry yelling, the sound of passing cars and whistling sirens, all those noises filled the air, accompanied by the tapping of footsteps, all echoing in the spacious surroundings making it seem like the perfect big-city atmosphere.

None of those people, who walked the streets at these late night hours, had a clue of what might be going on in the tall, dark buildings that surrounded them all. For all any of them knew, a murder could be taking place right there, behind that one, simple wooden door, blood dripping onto the walls and floor, screams muffled by gags, and none of them, yes, none of the people would know. Doesn’t that thought, the very thought that they could be in the presence of a killer, chill all of those people to the bone?

Alfred certainly knew what was going on behind all closed doors. He knew that he might have just crossed paths with at least five murderers, and he knew, oh yes, he knew so very well, that even the murderers themselves didn’t know who they might be crossing paths with. It was all the perfect state of blissful oblivion, when none of those thoughts nagged at you at all times.  Crime was a guarantee in a city such as Underling, and if nothing else, then that is what the people who live more or less normal lives there knew.

With a cigarette tucked safely between his fingers, Alfred leaned on the old wall of his apartment building, resting his head on it and staring up at the starless sky. He had gone out just for a smoke, just to waste some time and clear his hazy thoughts. It always seemed that living in these parts of the town was easy, with people constantly present and the police doing rounds throughout the night. It was safe, this part. As safe as it can get, at least.

In the blissful silence that Alfred has made for himself, a piercing noise of his phone suddenly came to be, drawing a frustrated groan out of the American. With a quick check at his screen, Alfred answered. “Sup, man.” He said simply, cigarette now dangling from between his lips. “Yeah, sure I got time.” He continued. “Right now?” He looked down at his watch, and then checked if the lights up on the apartment building were on. Once confirming that they were not, he focused his attention back on the call.  “…Hell yeah I’ll be there!” He exclaimed, the previously neutral expression he wore turning into one of joy. The grim aura that hung around him gone, Alfred dashed up the stairs, phone still in hand.

“Sure, sure, I won’t forget. See ya there in ‘round 15!” He hung up and locked his phone, stuffing it into his pocket and opened the door leading into his apartment. He packed a bag and swung it over his shoulder. With a last glance around the apartment, Alfred took his keys, wallet and gun.

The streets in these parts are safe, sure, but it’s never safe to assume that it truly is like that.

(( There is a meaning in this example somewhere, I just need to find it myself… ))

Headcanons:

Alfred’s a smoker, he will just rarely smoke around people he knows. It’s also a habit that stuck with him throughout the years.

He has a cat that he loves above all else, and sometimes, when there’s nothing left to talk about, he will mention his cat. That might also escalate from just a mention into a full blown conversation on cats and cat videos.

Attention is what he seeks. Even though he might not have as many friends as he would like to imagine, Alfred is the attention seeking type. Sure, he will not go out of his way, but “little” things, such as bragging might be on his list.