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Made Men



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Ðari

Look at you, armor-less
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Beyond the Final Destination
Made Men
The 6 Death Gods
The Savage Executioners

"Once you've been given the order to kill, it cannot be revoked, refuted, or repealed. It is an absolute and if the target does not die, then you die. Failure is not acceptable in this new world." --The Laughing Man

inspired by Fight Club
Thy Kingdom Come
The American/Italian/Irish Mafia
WANTED
Trigun


Narrator's Monologue

Sometimes I talk to myself.

Remember when the world ended all those years ago. Remember when people died of starvation and lack of resources, when they'd loot the tattered buildings in the disaster area's wreaked upon by super storms. Civility became a thing of the past, and quickly we developed our savage instincts again. The animals were in even fewer numbers than human beings and we knew we had to eat and...I'm pretty sure you can imagine what we had to do...

First.

We were demi-gods. We weren't religious or some cult indulging in self-interest, we lied. Offering salvation by the only means we could, we put people out of their misery. The sad reality we attempt to shut ourselves out from is the facing the fact that the end can be wrought upon us at any moment. Disease has them all, wrapped under it's iron fist eroding away at your immune system while you whine and squeal to no one but the god that has abandoned you. You begin to see things, hallucinate, and through envisioning hope you become delirious and immediately join those crazies down the street from you.

Second.

Gaining notoriety, we became The Savage Executioners. Feared. Known as killing machines designed to survive even the harshest of elements. Funny how you never think of what you're capable of until it comes down through the wire. You later discover once you kill, that fear induced by your brain administering excessive levels of adrenaline triggering that fight or flight mode we humans are capable of. Some of us, more talented with that adrenaline, just born to eviscerate everything in our paths. Let me tell you, it is one hell of a feeling when you really get into it.

Third.

People had become to recognize the end, as food was running thin, and their fear became poisonous to their very mind. Can't say I blame them, to know that at any waking moment the grip of death could be right on their doorstep. I know this because we're responsible for putting these individuals out of their misery and harvesting them. We became Made Men, a term to acknowledge a fully recognized member of the American Mafia. We were sane, killing with a purposeful and righteous sense this was the what the people wanted. People didn't want to suffer, so we offer release through death, and they become what sustains our reign.

There are 6 of us and these are the rules of our syndicate.

1. You do not speak about the Made Men.
2. You do not speak about the Made Men.
3. Once given a target, that target must die, no exceptions.
4. If you fail to kill a target, then your death is in place of theirs.
5. There will be no more than six Made Men, and should one die they will not be replaced.
6. Should the population deplete entirely, then the remaining made men are to eliminate each other.
7. A woman with the gift may be allowed to join, as long as the threshold of six is not crossed.
8. Finally. Each made man's signature name will reflect gesture of some kind.

Oh did I forget to mention, we just got a new member. This person is new and have even fired a gun before, do you really think we care? Rule number 4 still applies, good luck rookie, just don't screw up we finally got six people.

~~~~~~~~

Details details.
Post-apocalyptic setting. A mafia of the six most talented killers all sharing the same gift of adrenaline acceleration.
You're heart rate accelerates, and movement slows down, you are endowed with superhuman reflexes, speed, and strength. Combined with weapons, you are the perfect executioners, there is nothing more you should fear than each other. And if you don't want to be killed by each other, you follow all 8 rules to the letter.

The rules are you will follow every thing that I tell you down to the letter. No exceptions.
Easy rule to follow, as all instruction will be provided. Disclaimer, I will do everything my power to disturb, disgust, and shock my cast, bare this is mind should you choose to participate.


Now for the Made Men


The Laughing Man/The Narrator | Myself
The Smiling Man | OmniChaos
The Humming Man | Professor Ven
The Frowning Man | Grace Falls
The Broken Man | megatron532
The Crying Man | sorafinalform



Simple template provided

"I am The __ Man"
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Personality: (be creative as possible here)
Appearance:
Weapon of Choice:
Secondary Weapon:
Why are you here:

Some time ago, it was brought to our attention rumors of other human's with our caliber. Instead of using their skills to stand against us, they have only the intention of avoiding our syndicate at every manner. Tim hasn't given any orders to pursue these people until the population has slowed down to a crawl. We may be the best of our breed, but others with our apparent skill upon birth are a jeopardy in which failure is very much alive. We've dubbed these individuals The Elusivists.

Targets that should we attempt to engage, their death is not one that we can immediately ensure without extended chase. Tim allows us the freedom to restrain from pursuit, for we cannot break the rule if it hurts our team. We've given these men and women classifications pertaining on their skills of Eluding. From what Tim says, these are completely random people and by chance encounters while not on assignment he's classed them by personality, using the nouns and adjectives to describe them.

now for The Elusivists

The Renegade/Betrayer | Sean
The Vagabond | Superb
The Escapist | Orion
The Blissful | Piercing Light
The Calm | Mistearea
The Believer | Kazem

"I am The ___."

Name:
Age:
Gender:
Personality: (be creative as possible here)
Appearance:
Weapon of Choice:
Secondary Weapon:
Why do you run: (also tell me what your escape from reality is mentally/emotionally)
 
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Orion

Prepared To Die
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I am The Escapist.

Name's Erik Weisz, but many just call me Houdini.
Age: Spry and supple at 23
Gender: I've got the dangling bits.

Personality: The world within my head is infinitely happier and more pleasant than thatwithout. On my good days, they bleed together, and all the downtrodden people wearing rags and frowns turn into finely-attired revelers grinning from ear to ear. Sometimes they smile a little too much, but I can always put a stop to that. My funny old brain's served me well over the years - times where I can't get away physically, I can depart mentally with ease. I've lost count of how many beatings have gone unnoticed.

But it makes it hard to know who to trust. The person before me, shaking my hand: Are they doing it outside my head, inside? Both? Maybe his right hand is shaking mine in my head, while outside his left hand reaches around with a knife. Trusting people quickly becomes overrated when they inevitably discover you're some form of basket-case and don't want to run the risk of you flipping out on them. I'm generally pretty calm about my episodes, but everyone has their own idea of a psycho they like to project onto me the moment they hear I'm a little funny.

But I can bring out a laugh quickly enough with some neat tricks. Double-jointed fingers bent all the way back here, a limb dislocated over there, folding up into a ball and rolling around. My expert contortions bring out mesmerised looks, part wonderment and part pained, and my dexterity even when tied up is to be marvelled at. At least the kids don't immediately think then that I'd be impossible to keep detained if ever I turned dangerous.

Appearance: I keep pretty well, lean and wiry-looking but with the strength and stamina of an athlete, and the flexibility of a gymnast. Above my roughly rectangular forehead sits a mess of wavy brown hair, intensely dark. I've got a pair of sharp, thin eyebrows demarcating the lowest point of my forehead, and beneath them are my twin hazel eyes. Between, a fairly plain straight-set nose, and somewhat-full lips settled into a natural slightly-puckered look below that. I'm a little on the pale side, but I generally wear clothe myself such that the outer halves of my limbs are covered.

Weapon of Choice: It's a funny old thing, I'm not quite sure what it's called. All I know is I got it during one of my episodes and it's a neat little thing. Not your ordinary knife, but with a circular hand-guard encompassing the handle. I nearly chopped off a finger when I pressed the button on the pommel: it responded by pushing out a little, meanwhile the seamless but thick blade at the top bloody splits apart into five other blades. Twist that nob at the bottom one way, they slide along the handguard to make a serrated weapon, while orienting it the other causes them to fan out, effectively making a claw. It's a wicked little thing, and a great way to surprise people.

Secondary Weapon: Pretty much everything else is what I come by, but usually I hang onto rope as much as I can, and we all know rope can be pretty deadly in the right hands. Guns are nice when you can come across the ammo for them.

Why do you run: Because my mind is always in the process of half-leaving the real, because my body is already suited to escaping any enclosure, why shouldn't I extend that further? I'm destined to escape, to break out, to be free. I will never be contained.
 
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Professor Ven

The Tin Man
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"I am The Humming Man, am I not? Or did you call for someone else?"

Name: "Ezekiel Orom - and don't worry, it'll be the last you hear of me!"
Age: "I'm enjoying the ripe age of 36, and you simply won't be. How tragic!"
Gender: "Male indeed, I do have the balls to make you crack into that falsetto again!"

Personality: "It's so hilarious, you see, this thing you want to call a personality! I go where my footsteps take me - what I do is all of my business, and none of yours. Is there a label that you can place upon mine, the most solid and yet twisting of heads? My feet go where the music goes, indubitably, even if it means taking this broken liquor bottle and stabbing you to pieces with it! Oh-can't you hear it- those sixteenth note taptaptaptaptaps as I stab you continously? No?"

"I find this end of the world, or otherwise apocalyptic phenomenon to be a load of bollocks. If it was the end I wouldn't be hearing these bloody orchestras in my head, would I? They sing and they drum, with their harps and pipes and bloody whistles. Funnily enough, they only stop once I've killed someone, and you're next, aren't you?"

"After all, the music just crescendos when you are near. Come closer, little turtledove - let me accent your life with a nice trill. . ."


Appearance: "You might say, oh, he's old and fat - never! Still in my prime, unlike half of you scummiewhats. Sure, I could blend in a crowd easily enough if I wanted - but a gentleman always dresses well for a funeral, and you can bet your bloody arse there's going to be one today. I've gotten this nice black suit - an astute old Victorian English style, by the way, stovepipe hat included - got a few nice rings, souvenirs of some old friends I had to bury, too. Simply can't be without this watch though - nice, antique pocket watch, pure silver if you'd dare believe me - though it's handy in other ways. Don't worry, I wear my professional Kevlar underneath, you ninny."

"Just because I'm an old topper doesn't mean tiddlywinks - I'm simply the Mr. Hyde to your putrid waste of an existence! Six foot four, strong as an ox, if I do say so myself, and stocky enough to boot. Eyes the color of the ocean, pretty girls tell me, and luscious brown locks of hair - no sooner than I drown the dear things or feed them to the dogs! Har!"


Weapon of Choice:"Can't go anywhere without my bloody cane. Completes the whole set, you know, and in my opinion, a good bit of what the world's been missing is a good dozen or so getting beaten bloody into the dirt by a gentleman such as I."

Secondary Weapon:"This handy ol' ballistic shield's kept me safe through thick and thin, especially when dealing with those sort who like to peep at you through iron sights. Crushed enough backs with it to nearly equal the graves I've had to dig."

Why are you here:"There is no end to the Eternal Music's grand design. I am merely an instrument, skipping along to re-purpose those that I require, or dispose of them. After all, many still wonder where the Smiling Man gained his tittering smirk."
 
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FairSovereign

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I'd like to get involved! I would like the Broken man the most.. If that's not available, then I'll go with the Frowning Man.
 
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SwagStarIV

I just logged in... And got so many trophies
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Well...

"I am The Crying Man"

Name: Blanco Kanashimi

Age: 21 (Its his birthday!)

Gender: Male

Personality: Blanco is a confused young man, searching to fill the path of his dead father. His young minded morales are biased and stink like those of a 16 year old boy. Blanco wants, more than anything, to become stronger, but he is inadequate, over emotional, and hates the smell and sight of blood. In truth he is a scared and lame excuse of a demi-god. A boy yearning for companionship only to save his own hide, while he obliviously throws himself into harms way, all for the praise of a forgotten memory. Did i mention he speaks to his father from time to time? None the less he has grown enough to hide this fact. His drive is derived from the harsh words of this lingering spirit that turmoils his soul. He would love to think he is maturing from being a scared boy, albeit the fact that he clings to the ankles of those he figures can save his soul from his undeniable fate.

Appearance:

Blanco
: Blanco stands about 5'11 with a slim physique. Though he isn't cut like most that strive to be his size, he is fit. His skin has a natural saturated tan. His face is usually hidden by the mask, but occasionally revealed while he is in private areas or around those he trust.

Weapon of Choice: Kings Gauntlet: A golden plated gauntlet which contains an extendable sword. The plating can reflect bullets and strike through flesh like a steak knife through paper.

Secondary Weapon: Dekatria: The gun his father carried and gave to him on the day of his death. He has never fired this weapon, but has used it in close combat. This gun can deflect bullets.

Why are you here: Blanco is here to first fulfill the wishes of his father. In this sense, his main mission is to make his dad proud. His father died holding up the rubble of a building, so that Blanco and his mother may escape the danger. While traveling to his present destination, Blanco's father had trusted Blanco with the duty of carrying their belongings. This was just to toughen Blanco up, or so it says in his fathers diary, and also is how he obtained his fathers gun. Blanco also as a burning rage to avenge his mother. A few weeks before Blanco arrived where he stands today, he awoke to his mother, or at least what he thinks was his mother, laying in a secluded alley. She had been stripped, beaten, and whoever the culprit was had also began to use her as their means of sustaining life on this putrid planet. Blanco ran, tearful, as usual, swearing that he would find who did that when he became stronger and leave them in the same way she was left. Thirdly, his purpose of being here was to rid the world of tears. Starting with himself.
 

megatron532

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Jackson, NJ
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"I am The Broken Man"

Name: Jacob Asbury

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Personality: As his title implies, he is a broken man, having watched his parents burn alive in a house fire at twelve and his older sister get stabbed to death at age nineteen he has given up on the world. He doesn't believe in having friends, for they will only leave him in the end. He is an empty husk of the energetic youth he once was, prepared to die at any given moment. To most situations he responds apathetically, not caring one way or the other. He used to cry a lot, but now he feels nothing. He would give anything to feel again and has resorted to cutting himself to feel anything at all. Watching others suffer is one of the few things that brightens his day, he enjoys dealing out punishment to a world that had abused him from an early age.

Appearance:
Noah_Maxwell

He has wavy dark brown hair that comes down to about midway down his neck. He has fair skin and dark eyes, standing at about six feet tall. He has a bit of a stubble going on, and has a lean physical build.

Weapon of Choice: SOG Fusion Jungle Primitive Knife
http://www.knife-depot.com/knife-56623.html

Secondary Weapon: Mossberg Tactical Shotgun

Why are you here: He wants to punish the world that beat him up and abused him for so long. Jacob wants to make others suffer the way he did for so long. He's one of those people who just wants to watch the world burn, and if he can feel something again doing it, that's a plus.
 
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Ðari

Look at you, armor-less
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All six positions have been reserved and/or taken.

By November 28, I will edit the Opening Post with a new faction. The Elusivists.

I only ask that when I provide a template, and description that my cast consider this.
Unlike Made Men you will have no existing knowledge or history of the other men/women in your faction whatsoever, and the chance encounters of you have will be orchestrated by your host.
 

OmniChaos

The Smiling Man
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"I am the Smiling Man. Aye, that I am."

Name:
Glenn I. Mathis​

Age:
26​

Gender:
Male​

Personality:
Though originally a sound-minded man with a righteous goal, Glenn's mind has slowly decayed--and with it, all sense of morals--from living in what was left of their world, subtly going mad. He has found joy and glee in the suffering of others, which has physically manifested as a seemingly-permanent, warm--albeit creepy and psychotic--smile, hinse his namesake. Glenn has become twisted and demented, torturing his victims physically, mentally, and sexually before ending their life, savoring--or so he says--the thrill of the chase and cries of the prey. Despite it all, Glenn has kept his insanity under wraps around his fellow men, but it still manages to seep out from time to time, often in the form of repeated rambles.​

Appearance:
Glenn stands a tall, lengthy man with only a slight build. His hair, a raven-black color, extends to his neck in the back and curves forward at the sides. His eyes are a deep brown--nearly black--and stare out from behind a pair of silver-framed, black-lens glasses. Around his waist he wears a gold-coated chain, which he uses at times to choke people.​

Weapon of Choice:
Glenn uses an assortment of knives, for, or so he claims, it allows him to truly get to know a person before he kills them, as well as offer a quieter approach. Among his arsenal he uses a varity of throwing knives, a small butterfly knife, and, his signature Broker Applegate-Fairbairn A-F 11 Dagger, his preference for slitting necks. His increased reflexes and elevated senses makes Glenn especially lethal in close-quarter combat.​

Secondary Weapon:
Though it is kept solely as a last resort option, Glenn has a Smith & Wesson Govenor revolver. He has yet to use it.​

Why are you here:
Though originally a man whose purpose was to free mankind from what it had become, a fated encounter with a mysterious stranger left Glenn a psychotic and deranged mess. What is left of Glenn, the man who refers to himself as the Smiling Man, now kills for his own twisted amusement.​
 
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Ðari

Look at you, armor-less
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"I am The Laughing Man"

Name
: Tim Reins | The Narrator
Age: Twenty-Eight | Twenty-Eight
Gender: Male | Male
Personality:

The ordinary man that dares to be bold, I would like to think that's how I'd identify myself. Before the fold of the new world came upon us. I was pretty materialistic, and the reckoning which blew my apartment to bite the dust from a bomb placed there. Now I have nothing, now I don't know who I am. Tim Reins, he's kind of like the only real friend I have, but he can't stop laughing except to silence himself or to be purposeful with quiet. When I woke up to the new world I realized this is what me and Tim wanted. I'm the chicken shit and he's the nihilistic anarchist that wants us to go out and kill these people.

In a nut-shell, I have an imaginary friend, likely recognized in medical science as a dissociated identity disorder. Tim talks to me, thinks like me, but unlike me Tim is very sporadic and unpredictable and can always counter what I say. Though I'm no saint, I have just as much a hand in tormenting these perfect killing machines as he does. In reality, I'm just some adult that has lost everything and easily is passed off a schizophrenic and with the paranoia that this man Tim, is real.

Tim could easily be described is a very out there kind of guy. When I first met him, he would tell me things that at first I didn't understand but they were interesting. His brash nature, and his perception of god were all things I admired, but he can be a bit overwhelming. His attitude can really put people on edge, even when he's just getting warmed up. He boasts several years in psychology, but he said that degree was just to entertain what he already knew about the brain. Called his own father a number of times, though lost, he still wasn't really ready to serve or had yet to find any satisfaction in his life. So decided to do the people a favor and he and I started the Made Men, now here we are. Crazy bastard.


Appearance:

I'd say about Five feet and nine ten inches in height. A man with the spur of an insomniac, and an expression of constant absenteeism. A face some color still remains, with very set and complementing features. At times, stoic, at every other fleshed and alive as a laugh ensues. Tends to dress appropriately, in drama, one wears a mask, his is as to laugh.

He has stunning grey colored eyes. A short hair, that of a brunette's. His build is average, and the his skin pigmentation of a peach persuasion. He has a preference of jeans, and a plain white shirt, though its often subject to change naturally to accommodate his location. With a wide grin, his pearly whites can be seen, and he has the voice of a timid man, but when he speak it changes and sounds far less stagnant.


Weapon of Choice
:

My weapon of choice is a Barrett M82, semi-automatic sniper rifle. I have talent for bending the trajectory of my bullets to fly both through and around material. The shells of choice of mine are custom made, with the make up and ejection complex to allow me to shoot from my own living space over an insane range.

Secondary Weapon
:

My secondary, is a Italy's own rendition of a Beretta 92FS. Their standard handgun, which fire 9 millimeter rounds, semi-automatic fire. Use in close encounters, even more definitive examples of how my gun skills come into play are used here.

Why are you here
:

I am merely fulfilling what it is that I want in this new world, I don't own or take credit for the demolition of man, its about setting the people free from denial and cradling them in the harsh reality that the end is near. No soft lies anywhere in sight, but the hardest truth and acceptance imaginable, I'm just adding the incentive via execution.
 

Orion

Prepared To Die
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I don't suppose reservations can be broken if someone puts forth a superior character? I can appreciate the simplicity behind a first-come first-served basis, but if I make something up and post it before the roleplay begins, might it still be considered? Or are there options for third-party characters outside of the Made Men?
 

megatron532

New member
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All six positions have been reserved and/or taken.

By November 28, I will edit the Opening Post with a new faction. The Elusivists.

I only ask that when I provide a template, and description that my cast consider this.
Unlike Made Men you will have no existing knowledge or history of the other men/women in your faction whatsoever, and the chance encounters of you have will be orchestrated by your host.

So there will be a chance to make other characters, Orion.
 

Ðari

Look at you, armor-less
Staff member
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Beyond the Final Destination
I've updated the first post with the information regarding the new faction. These are the counter-pick 6 positions against the made men. Your job will be a simple one, I will inform you of more details and your importance in your struggle upon the RP's launch.

Happy template construction.

-voice
 

Lumine

When your Mask falls, what will you see.
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Truth
Dibs on the Vagabond, s'il vous plait.

Edit:

As it appears, I won't be able to keep that Reservation. So the character slot for 'The Vagabond' is still open for any of you who wants it. Best of luck everyone =).
 
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Ðari

Look at you, armor-less
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That's 11 positions dearest roleplayers.
The Vagabond reservation was cancelled.

One week from today, is the deadline to have your templates completed.

If you have never roleplayed with me before as your host, I promise you its going to be fun.
Because I have intention of tormenting both factions with my narration style, be prepared lol.

I also want to point out, the reason I didn't include or force anyone to write biographies, is because I am going to be in control of your most recent history and events. So positioning you all will be my responsibility. I can only move the characters when necessary, I can't impose your actual actions merely suggest them. Its a story combined with a game of chess.
 
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Sean

Ehhhhhh
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I also want to point out, the reason I didn't include or force anyone to write biographies, is because I am going to be in control of your most recent history and events. So positioning you all will be my responsibility. I can only move the characters when necessary, I can't impose your actual actions merely suggest them. Its a story combined with a game of chess.

Is the biography gonna be controlled enough to the point where it dictates where my character comes from geographically?
 
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