- Posting Speed
- One post per week
- Online Availability
- 5-11 EST weekdays, anytime weekends.
- Writing Levels
- Give-No-Fucks
- Adept
- Advanced
- Douche
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Female
- Genres
- Superhero, urban fantasy, space opera, crime thriller, supernatural
Main Base: The Land
Name: Alphonse (‘Alfie’) Langretta
Nicknames: Jackdaw
Role: Criminal
Character Pitch: Alfie Langretta is a self-professed ‘thief-connoisseur’ - a snatcher of things aplenty. His distinguishing between the term and any regular thief: that he steals for pleasure, rather than necessity. Or so he claims.
A poor boy from the parish, the eldest son of a pair of paupers, abandoned; the theory was that, as the eldest son, he stood the greatest chance of survival on his lonesome. Working, for a time, as a coal-miner, he did indeed survive, through the sweltering heat of the Underground, and the smog of the Land. It was his desire, however, to do more than to simply slave in pursuit of survival.
His salvation was thievery. Not to sell, or wrangle off in exchange for food. To keep. To serve as trophies, inscribed with their own declaration; that Alphonse Langretta existed for more than just bleak, rout survival. He stole shoddy talismen from the Rats, worth little more outside of sentimentality - but sentimentality tantalized him. Parts and trinkets from the tinkers and merchants. And the rare moments a Floater and their various baubles came into his reach were precious ones indeed.
His feats of thievery transformed him in the eyes of others. Alfie’s ‘calling card’ of sorts was to rip a piece of fabric from all his marks, and adorn them upon himself, stitched unto his garb like patchwork. Over the years, this bit of symbolism - of a man whose apparel was stitched with sweat and craft - won him repute as one of the Golden City’s colorful cast of criminals.
Smog-sick, frail, and perhaps doomed to die young, Alfie self-professes as a fatalist with delusions of romanticism, desperately clinging to chances for brief glory. There can be no question that he has always attempted to distance himself from the coal-miner’s persona - he has made a habit of adorning his chalked, gravely worker’s voice with the affectations of the various marks he’s overheard in conversation; the charismatic menace of the crime-lord, the practiced mannerisms of the merchants, the vocabulary of the bookish. Fragments of personas to incorporate into his own, like the stitched patchwork of his garb.
The above is an unblemished depiction of Alphonse, pale and weak-featured, almost waifish. Years of working amongst the coals has caked his face with charcoal black.
Written Appearance: The Jackdaw is, somehow, distressingly pretty. His features are soft yet narrow and lean, and his visage would be noticeably pale were it not for the patches of heat-burns and charcoal black that litter his face in permanence. Standing at 5’9”, his form is waifish and fragile, concealing a deceptive vestige of strength within.
His outfit screams out in its incongruence - the peaked cap of a Floater, a miner’s favorite boot, the heel of a merchant lady. The myriad patches of cloth taken from his numerous marks form a mosaic with some degree of rhyme or reason - the most colorful pieces have been patched on closer towards his outer extremities. He dons a representation of his namesake, ‘Jackdaw’; a beaked visor shoddily crafted from the remains of shattered porcelain.
Edit Log: Added Written Appearance with Nemo's approval!
Name: Alphonse (‘Alfie’) Langretta
Nicknames: Jackdaw
Role: Criminal
Character Pitch: Alfie Langretta is a self-professed ‘thief-connoisseur’ - a snatcher of things aplenty. His distinguishing between the term and any regular thief: that he steals for pleasure, rather than necessity. Or so he claims.
A poor boy from the parish, the eldest son of a pair of paupers, abandoned; the theory was that, as the eldest son, he stood the greatest chance of survival on his lonesome. Working, for a time, as a coal-miner, he did indeed survive, through the sweltering heat of the Underground, and the smog of the Land. It was his desire, however, to do more than to simply slave in pursuit of survival.
His salvation was thievery. Not to sell, or wrangle off in exchange for food. To keep. To serve as trophies, inscribed with their own declaration; that Alphonse Langretta existed for more than just bleak, rout survival. He stole shoddy talismen from the Rats, worth little more outside of sentimentality - but sentimentality tantalized him. Parts and trinkets from the tinkers and merchants. And the rare moments a Floater and their various baubles came into his reach were precious ones indeed.
His feats of thievery transformed him in the eyes of others. Alfie’s ‘calling card’ of sorts was to rip a piece of fabric from all his marks, and adorn them upon himself, stitched unto his garb like patchwork. Over the years, this bit of symbolism - of a man whose apparel was stitched with sweat and craft - won him repute as one of the Golden City’s colorful cast of criminals.
Smog-sick, frail, and perhaps doomed to die young, Alfie self-professes as a fatalist with delusions of romanticism, desperately clinging to chances for brief glory. There can be no question that he has always attempted to distance himself from the coal-miner’s persona - he has made a habit of adorning his chalked, gravely worker’s voice with the affectations of the various marks he’s overheard in conversation; the charismatic menace of the crime-lord, the practiced mannerisms of the merchants, the vocabulary of the bookish. Fragments of personas to incorporate into his own, like the stitched patchwork of his garb.
Written Appearance: The Jackdaw is, somehow, distressingly pretty. His features are soft yet narrow and lean, and his visage would be noticeably pale were it not for the patches of heat-burns and charcoal black that litter his face in permanence. Standing at 5’9”, his form is waifish and fragile, concealing a deceptive vestige of strength within.
His outfit screams out in its incongruence - the peaked cap of a Floater, a miner’s favorite boot, the heel of a merchant lady. The myriad patches of cloth taken from his numerous marks form a mosaic with some degree of rhyme or reason - the most colorful pieces have been patched on closer towards his outer extremities. He dons a representation of his namesake, ‘Jackdaw’; a beaked visor shoddily crafted from the remains of shattered porcelain.
Edit Log: Added Written Appearance with Nemo's approval!
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