Character(s) sᴀᴛ's ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴇɴᴅɪᴜᴍ

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Character(s) sᴀᴛ's ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴇɴᴅɪᴜᴍ

Content Warning
  1. Sensitive Topics

( supernatural universe | status: available and searching )​



EVERETT HALLOWES


⠀


⠀


something wicked this way comes.




Dossier.


NICKNAMES
colt

AGE
28

GENDER
male

OCCUPATION
"hunter"

SPECIES
content

BIRTHDAY
content

SEXUALITY
bisexual

HOMETOWN
pemberton, west virginia


Persona.


Describe character personality, attitude, temperament, etc.

RESOURCEFUL


SARCASTIC


CURIOUS


LONELY


BRAVE


LOVES:
⠀music of all kinds - classic 90s grunge, old gospel songs/spirituals, metal, punk - his tastes are....eclectic


HATES:
⠀demons, psychics who scam grieving people out of their money, preachy religious evangelicals


Visage.


HEIGHT
O' OO"

EYES
content

SKIN
content

FACECLAIM
if applicable

WEIGHT
OOO lbs

HAIR
color, length, texture

PHYSIQUE
content

VOICE
cadence, pitch


Detail character hairstyles, typical outfits and aesthetic, body modifications, and distinguishing features here!


History.


Rhett’s life had been mostly uneventful until that one night, after he’d just turned eleven. That was the night his father went down into the mines and found something there. Something evil, and ancient, and dormant. The man who came up on the mining lift was not his father, though he looked and spoke exactly like the man.

It’s not an incident they like to revisit. In fact, they’ve never spoken about it. All he remembers was his mother shouting for him to get in the car. The sound of a shotgun blast. And his dad standing there with half his head blown off, laughing like a madman as they drove away. Rhett remembers watching the figure of his dad get smaller and smaller through the rear window of the car, right before his ma pulled him back.

Many people who face an encounter with the supernatural learn to move on. They create excuses to explain away what they saw, too afraid to pull on the thread of reality.

Because once you know, once you’ve seen true evil, there are only two choices. Pretend you didn’t, or embrace the truth.

Now his ma owns and runs a road house, sort of a central community hub for hunters. A place where they know they’ll be safe, because there are anti-demon sigils on the walls and ceilings - and a loaded shotgun under the bar. This is where she gathers information - collecting news stories about the strange and unexplainable. Sending her son out to investigate new leads, new contacts, new information. Rhett's the one who travels across the country in his beat-up car, saving hapless innocents along the way.

Notes.


●⠀Character Facts
●⠀Character Mannerisms/Habits
●⠀Character Skills
●⠀Character Links/Extra
●⠀Whatever You Want!



 
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tumblr_957ae480eefc022d76f9470728e4ebb3_25eb9f4f_400.jpg
DAMIAN CASTELLANI | THE CONDOTIERRO​

name: damiano "damian" castellani
age: 34
gender/sexuality: just your regular straight italian cis male
occupation: enforcer for the derosa crime family
face claim: joe manganiello

family:

aurelio castellani - father (deceased)
giulia castellani - mother
lucia castellani - sister

nico tagliaferro - little brother, but not by blood

the boss: cesare derosa

name meanings:
damiano - greek origin; 'to dominate, tame, conquer'
castellani - italian/latin origin; castellan - a trusted man who holds the castle until the true ruler arrives

tattoos:

20 small rose tattoos on his left shoulder, one for each specific hit he has performed for the family
  • these are collectively referred to as his "garden"
  • he will sometimes make references to "tending" or "growing" his garden as a euphemism for a contract hit
weapons of choice:
 
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sources of writing inspiration:​
film: prisoners (2013), no country for old men (2007), there will be blood (2007), scarface (1983), apocalypse now (1979), drive (2011), heat (1995), the departed (2006), y tu mamá también (2001), children of men (2006), atonement (2007), good will hunting (1997), se7en (1995), goodfellas (1990), the silence of the lambs (1991), city of god (2002), alien (1979), oldboy (2003), blade runner (1982), the handmaiden (2016)

tv: HBO's rome, the wire, sons of anarchy

books: house of leaves - mark z. danielewski, blood meridian - cormac mccarthy, in cold blood - truman capote, demon copperhead - barbara kingsolver, the red rising series - pierce brown, the expanse - james s.a. corey, dune - frank herbert, the dark forest - cixin liu

music: hozier, radical face, brand new, kavinsky, a perfect circle, chvrches, bastille
 
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( modern era | spy thriller | status: taken )​



ADAM DEERING


⠀


⠀


i think i am a better ghost than i am a human being




Dossier.


NICKNAMES
none; 'adam' isn't even his real name

AGE
seemingly in his 30s

GENDER
male

OCCUPATION
mechanic

BIRTH NAME
[ REDACTED ]

BIRTHDAY
[ REDACTED ]

SEXUALITY
confused

HOMETOWN
norfolk, virginia; not that he knows it


Persona.


In so many ways, Adam is a study in the power of memory. Human experiences shape our personalities from birth until the day we die. But what happens when one can no longer piece together a coherent narrative of a life? He'd be John Locke's best friend; tabula rasa in the flesh.

Right now, he's less of a real person and more of a scared animal, reacting to events as they happen to him. But he hides the feral side of him well enough. To the average observer, Adam would present as a quiet and reserved man, his mannerisms default to a neutral politeness and formality that most people don't have.

He doesn't know if he's a "good" or a "bad" man, because those are terms that apply to humans in relation to others - and Adam is always alone. But he has a fear that he's a very, very bad person who has done some horrible things. He thinks this because he dreams about them all the time.

HAUNTED


RESERVED


PARANOID


DECENT


UNSTABLE


LOVES:
⠀books. he can't have a library card since he's undocumented, but he picks discarded paperbacks up off the street and sometimes borrows from community libraries. like he's trying to remember how to be human again. being busy - he likes to work with his hands and feels a sense of satisfaction when he's able to put something together. black coffee. sitting in the back of a bar to watch the live music, sketching

HATES:
⠀loud noises, excessive confrontation, violence, anything to do with the military. feeling ignorant, though it happens often. the male ego. sleeping - because he usually dreams. overly bland food - tastes like what they gave him when he was in service


Visage.


HEIGHT
6'4

EYES
blue

SKIN
far too pale

FACECLAIM
alexander skarsgard

WEIGHT
215 lbs

HAIR
blonde, grown out slightly from his military cut

PHYSIQUE
lean and muscular; he's covered in scars



  • he almost always looks tired, though he'll deny it if asked. the dark circles under his eyes don't lie, however
  • his hair is slightly longer than he's used to, and unruly. when he was in the service it looked like this. right now his hair and beard are more like this
  • no, he doesn't own a comb
  • his clothes are whatever he could scrounge up - sometimes stealing from lost and found bins or saving his pennies for the church charity shop. one pair of coveralls washed threadbare but still bearing the faded stains of oil. random t-shirts for shit he doesn't understand, jeans that were slightly too short for his tall frame, work boots that looked like they were about to fall apart
  • many of these clothes have been darned or otherwise repaired by him


History.


Adam was born to a military family with a very long history of distinguished service. It was that loyalty, combined with his test scores, that made him a perfect candidate for an elite unit of special operators. Joining the program meant saying goodbye to his friends and family, but when he’d weighed that against the burden of serving his country it was duty that won out. His old name and records were sealed and erased from the social security registrar like he never existed.

The very first thing they did was put him in a white room. Completely devoid of sensory input. His clothes, the walls, even the plain unseasoned rice they gave him to eat and the milk they gave him to drink. No sounds, no human interactions - an empty void. It was only years later that he learned why these specific tactics had been used - to make him forget his own identity. To depersonalize him as the first step in a conditioning program. Or to put it more simply, to break his spirit and rid their recruits of the idea that they were human beings with unique thoughts and attributes. To this day, Adam doesn’t know how long he actually spent in the white rooms, but sometimes he sees white behind his eyes when he’s trying to sleep.

Unfortunately the problem with mental conditioning is that the brain is elastic. Sometimes it can recover lost memories on its own. After ten years in the program, the researchers were concerned about this possibility - but the brass wanted to send him on one more mission before they wiped him clean again and the training had to start over. That ended up being a mistake. The explosion must have incinerated everyone inside, including the two valuable assets they’d sent into the field. A fire so hot that it would destroy even human bones and teeth. But Adam hadn’t been trapped inside when building blew - he was crawling away on his hands and knees for as long as he was conscious.

Events are more than a little blurry after that.

He lived a transient life for a few months, sleeping under bridges or in condemned houses and stealing small amounts of food to survive - until the owner of a very illegal chop shop gave him a job. Cash, under the table. He didn’t know why this kid had such haunted eyes, or why he couldn’t produce a birth certificate or social security number. As far as Lou was concerned, Adam worked for cheap and was a good mechanic. He didn’t mind doing the shittiest jobs in the garage, was always on time, and never complained.

Adam doesn’t understand why his mind is such a barren landscape. Why he seems to know how to do things he’s never done before. There are secrets locked inside his mind that could topple an empire.
Notes.


●⠀Character Facts
●⠀Character Mannerisms/Habits
●⠀Character Skills
●⠀Character Links/Extra
●⠀Whatever You Want!



 
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( hunger games victor OC | status: unknown (rp on hold )​


Jasper Barnett


⠀


⠀


who do you carry the torch for, my young man?
do you believe in anything?
do you carry it around just to burn things down?




Dossier.


NICKNAMES
jas - but only his sister calls him that

AGE
19

GENDER
male

OCCUPATION
victor of the hunger games; a deeply unwilling sex slave; an influencer/celebrity

FAMILY
his mother, ava and his sister, daisy
his father, peter - deceased

BIRTHDAY
december 4th

SEXUALITY
pansexual

HOMETOWN
the seam, district 12


Persona.


Jasper is always trying to project an image of confidence and ability that he almost never feels. Ever since his dad died in the mines, he's been the head of the household and provider for his family. That meant growing up fast, playing a part he was far too young for.

STUBBORN


HOTHEADED


RECKLESS


SENSITIVE


CLEVER


LOVES:
⠀the seam, folk songs from 12, nature, animals, simple foods like stew, teasing his sister, dancing, music

HATES:
⠀the capitol and everything about it, being forced to be fake 24/7, high-pitched affected voices, food that's too rich/extravagant, waste, unfairness & injustice


Visage.


HEIGHT
5'11

EYES
dark brown

SKIN
light, slightly olive toned

FACECLAIM
aaron bernards

WEIGHT
160 lbs

HAIR
dark brown, chin length and pin straight

PHYSIQUE
thin, though he's put on some desperately needed weight since winning the games.

VOICE
cadence, pitch


Detail character hairstyles, typical outfits and aesthetic, body modifications, and distinguishing features here!


History.


Describe your character's backstory here.

EVENT TITLE

Detail this portion of your character's life.

IMPORTANT DATE

Detail this portion of your character's life.


Notes.


●⠀Character Facts
●⠀Character Mannerisms/Habits
●⠀Character Skills
●⠀Character Links/Extra
●⠀Whatever You Want!



 
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art credit: username


jace lightfoot
ALIASES
'that bastard',


AGE
34
GENDER
male


SEXUALITY
bisexual & extremely picky
SPECIES
human


ORIGIN
Information
OCCUPATION
thief, confidence man, and a jack of all disreputable trades


ROLE
Information
more information +
⠀⠀MORE CHARACTER INFO⠀⠀
⠀
the self
⠀
A paragraph or description summary about your character's general temperament and character traits.

ALIGNMENT:
Information
LOVES:
What are things your character likes?
HATES:
What are things your character dislikes?
GOALS:
What goals does your character have for themselves?
FEARS:
What is your character scared of?
⠀
the body
⠀
HEIGHT:
5'11
HAIR COLOR / STYLE:
Naturally jet-black and wavy, would probably curl if he grew it out long enough. Sometimes has a white streak in the front, depends on his mood
EYES:
Blue-grey
SKIN TONE:
olive toned, tan from time spent outside in the sun
PHYSIQUE:
a gymnast's build, all lean and wiry muscle with very little softness
APPARENT AGE:
The age your character appears to be relative to human years.
VOICE:
What are the qualities or cadence of your character's voice? Link a voice claim, if applicable.

ATTIRE //
What does your character generally wear?

MODIFICATIONS //
What body modifications does your character have (tattoos, piercings, unnatural hair color, etc.)?

SCARS / MARKINGS //
Does your character have any scars or other distinguishing marks?
⠀
the power
⠀
How did your character get their skills and abilities? Are they natural, granted by items, training, etc.

ABILITIES //
What sort of things does your character excel at? Can be magical or mundane in nature.

SPELLS //
What sort of magic does your character use? Delete if not applicable.

GEAR //
Does your character have any particular equipment of note (armor, weapons, enchanted items, etc.)?
⠀
the story
⠀
Type out your character's background information and history, as detailed or vague as you'd prefer.

INVENTORY //
Does your character carry any sentimental or important items on their person (lucky charms, family heirlooms, gifts, etc.)?
 
LYRA.png
 
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art credit: username


orion clarke
NICKNAMES
ori, though there's no one alive to call him by that name


AGE
37
GENDER
cisgender male


SEXUALITY
pansexual
SPECIES
human


ORIGIN
earth, spire city
OCCUPATION
bounty hunter / private investigator / paid dog


BACKGROUND
former interplanetary legionnaire & ward of the state
more information +
⠀⠀MORE CHARACTER INFO⠀⠀
⠀
the self
⠀
Orion is a survivor, though he doesn't always know what he's surviving for. He's a deeply broken man using a terrible substance to avoid confronting his demons. He's a sarcastic asshole when he's not on Pax, though his manner becomes more monotone when he's on it.

He's got blood on his hands. A lot of it. Hands that pressed a button to level a city block of apartments, just because he'd been ordered to. In his current line of work he will almost always try to trick, lie, cajole or threaten his way out of difficult situations. Orion is very charming when he wants to be, but he chooses to be a dick because it acts as a hedgehog's spikes. Warning everyone around him to stay away.

ALIGNMENT:
chaotic neutral
LOVES:
spicy food, hot meals instead of ration boxes, soju, paxite, old 2D films from earth, gadgets and technology, his ship, personal space, peace and quiet (a rarity in the city), doodling on his datapad, emotionless one-night stands
HATES:
feelings, first and foremost. shifting into hyperspace (it always makes him sick). paxite hangovers. stubborn bounties that require force. corpos on payroll (he's a freelancer, thank you - no one owns him), dock inspectors, fascist government types and neo-warlords, low gravity environments, his home planet, soldiers and armies
GOALS:
To just keep flying, and keep running away from the things he'd rather not face. To make sure he never runs out of Paxite. To die quietly in his bunk
HABITS
Orion has been heavily abusing a synthetic drug called Paxite for about fifteen years now. One of his commanders had given it to him as a green recruit, a common enough practice at the time. It artificially dampens the centers of the brain that control empathy and conscience and dulls just about every emotion a person can have. A useful ability for a soldier in a brutal interplanetary war, but with the side effects of being incredibly addictive. The original formulation was actually banned for being a little too effective and notorious, but he has contacts with about two dozen smugglers for the real stuff. It comes in small black pills in a plastic dispenser.

Paxite feels like being dipped into a cool vat of water, submerged in soothing apathy. One can swallow the pill or chew it for faster onset, although the taste is highly bitter and unbearable for those unaccustomed to it. When it hits his blood stream, he suddenly feels blissfully detached. More like an object or an outside observer than a real human being. It gives him the ability to sleep dreamlessly and tamps down his trauma frayed nerves and allows him to do his work without hesitation. On Pax, he doesn't have to care about what happens to the border security guard he swindles or feel bad about knocking out obstacles.

The drug has a half life of about 12 hours in a normal user, but Orion's tolerance is so high he needs to re-up every few hours. Without it, he has a difficult time regulating his emotions. Since he's used it as a crutch for so long, he hasn't had to learn proper coping mechanisms.
⠀
the body
⠀
HEIGHT:
5'11
HAIR COLOR / STYLE:
Dirty blonde, usually a mess. He cuts it on a whim, sometimes he's close-shaven and other times his hair is starting to curl behind his ears
EYES:
Grey-green depending on lighting
SKIN TONE:
slightly gray in his pallor, thanks to the Paxite abuse. People sometimes think he's got some kind of consumptive disease
PHYSIQUE:
Lean and compact, reflecting his upbringing in Earth gravity. His job keeps him on his feet
APPARENT AGE:
He looks about his age, though he can look older if he's feeling in a bad way - bloodshot eyes and dark circles help with that.
FACE CLAIM:
Ryan Gosling

ATTIRE //
Very practical attire. Stiff jackets woven with energy-dispersion properties for protection against blaster fire. Good boots, something he learned the value of as a soldier.

MODIFICATIONS //
a Legio XIII tattoo on his upper right arm

SCARS / MARKINGS //
Does your character have any scars or other distinguishing marks?
⠀
the abilities
⠀
Once a legionary, always a legionary. Orion was a good soldier. He followed orders well, but could improvise when necessary. He learned how to shoot and march and sprint and most of all he learned how to put up with a lot of shit without complaining. How to curl up and sleep anywhere, under any conditions.

ABILITIES //
marksmanship: Orion knows his way around a blaster. He's the fastest draw he knows, a fact proven by his continued survival
piloting: He knows his ship like the back of his hand, down to every last bolt and detail
hand to hand combat: He's more of a brawler than a precision martial artist, but he can take a hit and hold his own in a fight. Though he'd prefer to avoid fighting altogether
bullshit mastery: Orion is quick on his feet. There's always a likely excuse on his tongue, an easy lie that he improvises and spins out in real time. He can lie with the best of them.
research: he does a lot of it, and he's very good at it. He's got an eye for spotting patterns and anomalies.

GEAR //
- his blaster, complete with an easy toggle for lethal / nonlethal rounds
-a small aegis battery on his arm, creating an energy shield in front of him when activated
-spider rounds - capsules that expand to create a sticky cocoon to bind the target
-a pair of titanium handcuffs
-gravboots, though they don't last very long. enough to give him enough momentum to hover in the air or jump over a fleeing target
⠀
the story
⠀
Orion's story is as common as space junk. He was an anonymous baby that became a ward of the state, growing up in an orphanage. Desperate to get out of that shithole, he joined the Earth Legions after a recruiter came by. They were always around, because orphanages are full of angry young people with poor decision making skills. He fought in the Martian highlands and was at the Battle of Cydonia, where most of his unit was taken captive by a sadistic warlord and skinned alive one by one. Orion only survived because reinforcements had arrived just in time.

He left the service after that, leaving the military with a map of blaster burns on his body, unspeakable trauma, and a month's salary.

The next few months after he left are a bit of a blur due to the fact that it was essentially a non-stop bender. But he eventually ran out of credits and was forced to get a job as a corporate security guard. That felt too much like the military, so he started taking up public bounties and gained enough of a reputation to earn a living.

He won his spaceship in a card game. It's his best girl - the Serafina, which is also the name of the AI copilot that helps him keep track of everything. It's a small ship, really just built for one person and it's been his home for years now.

QUOTE:

Diana Khalidi: You're actually kind of a good guy, Orion. Thank you for helping us.
Orion Clarke: No need to lie to me, Diana. Have a good life.
Diana Khalidi: (as Orion is walking away) guess I'll see you, space cowboy
 
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/* 𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 ; 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑 */





sat's male request thread



fix your hearts or die



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* * *

---- RIGHT COLUMN START ----
⠀


---- SECTION 1 START ----

about the writer⠀⠀⠀


hi, I'm saturnine. I'm in my 30s and I've been writing for most of my life. some things about me:
  • prefer quality over quantity, always. a starter post might end up being 700-1000 words, but ordinary posts will probably hover around ~200-500. maybe even less if it's a scene with dialogue
  • I try not to give my partner 10 things to respond to with every post, because I personally find it a bit tedious - going back to the first bullet point about post length
  • speed: if the inspiration and timing is right, I can rapid fire posts with the best of them. otherwise, I try to find time to write a little every evening
    • I'm in it for the long term. I love stories that go on for ages and allow characters to develop and grow over time
  • always willing to pick up a previous story even if it's been months. in fact, I am extremely ADHD and will sometimes just forget about threads. please don't ever feel bad about poking me for a reply, I will genuinely be grateful for the reminder
writing preferences:
  • I'm generally more interested in plot over smut. Smut is fun to write, but I get bored of it easily if there isn't a good plot as well.
  • not a fan of deciding on kinks before the story begins, before I figure out who the character is
  • in m/m storylines, I write switches and I prefer my partner to as well. I don't see top/bottom as something set in stone. It's much more interesting when dynamics change.
  • in m/f storylines I'll write a range of character types from traditionally masculine dominant men to total goofballs failing upward
  • there's nothing better than a partner who will actively plot with me. it's difficult to maintain interest when I have to steer the story by myself
  • I prefer either real life face claims, written descriptions, or non-anime style art

---- SECTION 1 END ----


---- SECTION 2 START ----

things I like to write



wordbank
trauma of all kinds, poor coping mechanisms, self-medication, moral ambiguity, pragmatism, low fantasy tropes, toxic relationships, hurt/comfort, power and class differentials, grimdark, magic requires sacrifice, hidden identities, warfare & espionage, divided loyalties, revolutionaries

Smut Preferences:
  • yes please:
    • begging, edging/orgasm denial, dirty talk, hair pulling, thigh sex/frot, name calling/humiliation - then aftercare. overstimulation, public/surreptitious sex, anal, fingering, somnophilia, possessiveness, cunnilingus, marks/leaving bruises
  • sure:
    • foot stuff, cross-dressing, phone sex, toys, costume play/roleplay, whips/paddles, anything not in 'no'
  • no:
    • scat/watersports, gore, infantilism kink

⠀

---- SECTION 2 END ----


---- SECTION 3 START ----

plot ideas⠀⠀




If I have fully fleshed out plots, chances are I'll write a separate post for those. Here are some ideas that I'd love to expand with someone else's input.

FOR THOSE WHO ARE ABOUT TO DIE
historical or alt history

The teeming masses demand blood, and it's his job to provide it for them. He is a slave, inhabiting a dual world of degradation and sudden celebrity. But he wasn't always the gladiator known as the Babarian, falling into bed with blood under his fingernails. Once he'd had a wife and a child, and he'd sing ballads about the Old Gods in the evenings just to see her smile. That man is gone, and in his place is the barbarian. The empire stole him from his cold mountains and bright forests, dragging him from a land of mist into the beating sun of the arena sands. With every fight he survives, his celebrity only grows among the wealthy. They want him at their parties, but would just as happily watch him bleed out at their feet.

I could see him being paired with another slave in the same household, a fellow gladiator, or a wealthy Roman (possibly the lanista's wife?)​

---- SECTION 3 END ----


---- SECTION 4 START ----

writing samples⠀⠀




He never forgot the day Amadeus took a whipping for him. Eventually, the scars on his back faded - though Orestes doubted they would ever truly disappear. The only thing that had irrevocably changed was him. That was the day he stopped acting like a child - even Titus noticed the change in him, and constantly tried to get under his skin.

Other things had changed as well, now that he was finally eighteen. He had grown out of his coltish awkwardness, acquiring the innate grace of his mother. Orestes was taller than her now, a fact that amused Niobe to no end. Her son was nearly reaching the end of his education. After this, he'd have to complete a stint in military service. That was essential for any ambitious young man who wanted to rise in the world.

Orestes sat at his desk, clay tablet resting in front of him, unmarked - in his usual seat beside Amadeus. Their instructor was the legendary Gaius Marius, the commander who had led the empire to victory in the wars against the Cimbri. Arrayed around him were the sons of the nobility, his half-brother among them.

As usual, Titus was surrounded by his friends and hangers-on. He never went anywhere without an entourage to announce his presence. They would whisper constantly throughout the lesson, so confident that this old man had nothing to teach them. Titus was the best swordsman out of all of them - or he would be, if not for Amadeus. He didn't need to learn strategy or mess about with maps. That was for lesser men.

Their instructor had sketched out a battlefield. A fortified city, almost impenetrable against a frontal assault without losing massive casualties. "Tell me how you would take this city," he said, nodding at Titus as he spoke without raising his hand. As usual. "Use our siege works to batter the door down. It's only wood. It'll break eventually."

Garius Marius was a commander known for caring about his soldiers. A rare quality in a commander - but it was how he had won their loyalty. "Yes, it would work. Eventually. Until then, your men will be exposed to every sort of missile for as long as it takes to bring it down."

Titus shrugged. "We always have more peasants to throw at them," he said, and laughed.

Orestes raised his hand. "I would destroy the dam on the right flank, near the river."

"And why would you do that?"

"The land around the city provides nearly all the food they need. If we flood it, they will starve," he said quietly, seemingly unmoved by the idea of inflicting mass starvation upon a populace. Gaius raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to go on. "And how would that help you take the city?"

"I would send word to the people inside. Promising food and merciful treatment if they will kill their masters and open the gates. I would have them fight each other, rather than waste our men."

"And waste half your supplies while you're at it," Titus snapped, irritated. "It'll take way too long to starve them out."

"Better we waste time instead of lives," Orestes replied, shrugging. He looked up to see the old man watching him thoughtfully.

"What is the purpose of war?" he asked, to no one in particular. Immediately, the young men began giving answers. "To kill your enemies," Titus called from his seat. "Conquest! To take your enemy's treasures and women for yourself," said another. "For new territories for the empire."

The old man's gaze turned to Orestes, who appeared as if he was puzzling over the question. "And you?"

"The purpose of war..." the prince paused, tapping his finger on the table. "The purpose of war is to break your enemy's spirit, so they can never defy you again. For that is the only road to peace."

Gaius Marius smiled.

If the meting out of brutal violence could be considered an art, then Damian would be its virtuoso. He had certainly studied the subject in great detail - he knew exactly how much pressure a bone could take before it snapped. How to beat someone in a manner that left no marks. Ways to get people to talk.

How to slip a pair of pliers smoothly under a man's nail and pull.

It was the third nail. There were two others already on the floor, still stuck with bits of flesh. Damian could tell his victim was close to breaking by the way his breaths quickened and stuttered, growing shallow and panicked. He tapped the man on the forehead, almost playfully. "You remember the question, Lorenzo?" he asked, to which the sweat-soaked man nodded enthusiastically. Anything to stay the approach of those pliers. It was insultingly easy. Damian didn't know how it felt to get one's fingernails ripped out, but he was fairly certain he would have lasted longer than this pitiful display. They'd have to go through his toes, too.

"T-The guns are in the Vista warehouse," the man gasped, cringing away from him as much as he could with the restraints around his neck and legs. Damian pulled out a map of the area and shoved it at his captive, along with a pen. "Mark the address."

Instead, this idiot decided to take a stab at him with the pen. It was the most pathetic attempt on his life that Damian had ever seen, with Lorenzo's sweaty palms almost losing grip of the plastic before he'd completed the feebly motion of an attempted stab. Sidestepping the would-be shiv, Damian slammed the pliers onto the man's left hand hard enough to hear his bones crunch against the metal. Then he did it again, watching the skin of his victim's knuckles turn a vivid purple. The hand took on a strangely deformed shape as he continued to break every single bone in a screaming Lorenzo's non-dominant hand.

He'd need the other one to mark the map, after all.

Growing frustrated with hearing Lorenzo's whimpering, he wrapped his hand around the man's windpipe and gave a hard squeeze to shut him up. "Let's try that again. Mark the map."

After that, the man needed no further convincing. He marked the address in an untidy scrawl, tears streaming down his face. He was a soft man with a pudgy gut and uncalloused hands, someone who ran the books for one of his family's many rivals. Not someone who was used to rough treatment. He might as well have saved his tears, because Damian turned his full attention to the young man standing beside him. "Check out his info. Then get rid of him."

He'd get Nico to pull the trigger. The kid needed an opportunity to prove to the family that he wasn't soft, and he needed experience killing. Dark eyes followed the movement of Nico's adam's apple as he nodded his silent assent. No complaints or questions this time.


As far as Damian was concerned, it was a man's God-given right to have a beer at the end of a hard day's work. He sat at the bar even though the small padded stools struggled to hold his 6'5 frame. It was the best spot to watch the current UFC match on the mounted television. That, and it gave him a vantage point on the bar's entrance, just in case trouble walked in. He'd noticed the young woman entering almost immediately because in a sea of regular faces, hers was new. Then she smiled and confirmed his suspicions - she was an outsider for sure.

Everyone in Rosedale knew who Damian was, and their smiles reflected that. Some were nervous quirks of the lips, betraying their fear of him - either from direct experience or reputation. Or it was the overly forced smiles of the girls who hung around the clubs at the outskirts of town, knowing the benefits that came with association with the family's resident princeling. All of these smiles meant they wanted something from him, that there was some wheedling request for drugs or money at the other end of those veneered teeth and filled lips.

The look she gave him was different enough to give him pause, because it was a smile completely without artifice. Damian lifted his beer in a salute to her attention, then nodded the waitress over - she dropped everything to attend to him first. "Ruby, get her whatever she wants. Put it on my tab. And send over a bottle of Dom. 2013, or whatever you have," he told her, slipping a bill into her front apron pocket. Ruby nodded eagerly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before she went back to do as he'd asked. He watched her pull out the bottle of bubbly, popping the cork with an expert twist of her hand. "This is from him," she murmured, nodding down the bar at Damian as she poured the golden liquid into a glass and slid it across the bar toward Bri. The opened bottle, she set in front of her - a sign he'd bought the bottle, not just a glass. "He told me to put it on his tab."


⠀

---- SECTION 4 END ----


---- RIGHT COLUMN END ----

 
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LEON YOUNGBLOOD; "THE GOOD SOLDIER"

Age: 32
Height: 6'2
Build: Athletic and wiry, all lean muscle from a lifetime of running and fighting
Hair: constantly changing. some days it's dark, sometimes blonde, depending on who he needs to be or what he's doing. It's naturally a light brown
Distinguishing features: a constellation of scars on his chest, one thin nick on his left eyebrow

Gender: cis male
Sexuality: pansexual
Origin: unknown
Allegiance: the Rebel Alliance; more specifically Saw Gerrera's rebels

Personality:
true believer: Leon is both willing and fully prepared to die for the rebellion, and by extension, for his fellow rebels. He holds others to the same high standards - questioning orders is not acceptable, and neither is complaining. You get the job done, or die trying. He's been trained since childhood to understand how little his life matters. Only the rebellion matters.

on the job: outside of his work for the rebellion, he doesn't know much about himself. Who he is, who he would be without that fight…Leon doesn't know. He's afraid of pulling at that thread for fear of finding out just how hollow his existence is

the ends justify the means: there is no act against the empire that he would consider too far. He's seen what they do to innocents every day. As far as he's concerned, one dead imperial officer saves a hell of a lot of lives in the future.

Background:

Leon never had a mother, because he was created in a test tube by his father, Dr. Atlas Youngblood, a former imperial scientist turned rebel. He considered it his atonement for a lifetime of creating clone soldiers for the empire, a gift for the then-fledgling rebellion.

He created the perfect rebel agent, right down to his genetic code. It was a massive risk, but at the time he knew he was terminally ill and would not live for much longer.

The baby was given over to Saw Gerrera to raise and train. He was 12 years old when he went on his first mission. 5 when he first held a blaster. There were no soft childhood memories for Leon - he was always a soldier. His education had been focused on subjects that would help him - language, hacking, hand to hand combat, marksmanship, piloting.

Throughout his life, he's chosen the rebellion over his happiness - including a relationship with a woman he'd once considered running away with. Friends that either quit or died on missions. He tries not to make any significant relationships now if he can help it.

It's been over 20 years since he's started this crusade, one he didn't choose for himself. Leon can feel himself growing jaded and bitter, colder with each passing year and each violent encounter. He doesn't like the person he's grown up to be, but it's all worth it for a higher cause. Or so he's believed all his life .
 
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