Post by Jake Cicero on Apr 10, 2012 19:35:11 GMT -5
[style=text-transform: uppercase; text-align: center; font-size: 40px; font-family: georgia; text-shadow: #cfaf7d 2px 2px 2px; font-weight: bold; color: #000000; line-height: 23px; padding-top: 10px;]WANTED
• DEAD OR ALIVE •
JASON CICERO
"I WAS ALWAYS QUICK TO STRIKE, HAD EVERYTHING I OWN IN THE SADDLES ON MY BACK"
[style=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;]NAME • Jason Denali Cicero
NICKNAME • Jake
AGE • 25
GENDER • Male
SEXUALITY • Straight
OCCUPATION • Rogue/Drifter
CLASS • High
FACE CLAIM • Taylor Kitsch
[/style]NICKNAME • Jake
AGE • 25
GENDER • Male
SEXUALITY • Straight
OCCUPATION • Rogue/Drifter
CLASS • High
FACE CLAIM • Taylor Kitsch
"Hand upon a deadman's gun, and you're looking down the sights,"
[style=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;]APPEARANCE •
EYE COLOR • Hazel
HEIGHT • 5’11’’
WEIGHT • 185
BUILD • Muscled
SCARS? • Knife scars on his hands, bullet scar on his side where he was grazed in battle.
UNIQUE CHARACTERISTIC • He’s sense of fashion; nothing to outrageous, dirty, cheap, or expensive depending on his moods.
[/style]Standing at five eleven he’s a rather average height for a guy his age. His body is still well tones after his many years in the army and he maintains that level of fitness if nothing else. His brown hair if normally curled over his collar as he can’t be bothered to have it cut; besides it’s more dashing that way. He usually has stubble across his chin and cheeks, another matter of laziness and misguided sex appeal. His lips are generally upturned in a smirk of amusement or a sneer if you mentioned politics; he really hates politicians. His eyes are a surprisingly gentle green given all the other hard angles to him you’d think his eyes could get with the program as well.
EYE COLOR • Hazel
HEIGHT • 5’11’’
WEIGHT • 185
BUILD • Muscled
SCARS? • Knife scars on his hands, bullet scar on his side where he was grazed in battle.
UNIQUE CHARACTERISTIC • He’s sense of fashion; nothing to outrageous, dirty, cheap, or expensive depending on his moods.
"Your heart is worn, and the seams are torn,"
[style=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;]PERSONALITY •
LIKES •
DISLIKES •
WEAKNESSES •
STRENGTHS •
FEARS •
[/style]The army taught him discipline, organization, and order. Now a days he goes out of his way to make his life as hectic, messy, and chaotic as possible. A real sucker for the non-conformist ideals. He loves nothing more than having the ability to pack up his things, slap them onto his horse and ride off into the next sunrise. That kind of freedom had never been available to him before but he rarely ever decides to put any feelings behind his actions. He spends his time seeing what he can see and doing whatever he wants to do; be those things morally good or bad. That’s not to say he doesn’t have his own twisted honor code but well, it’s twisted. He tends to take a flippant attitude with everything around him which can often get him in trouble. Bar brawls, stand offs, shoot outs; it never mattered to him. He’s never gotten into anything he couldn’t handle, always leaving a sour taste in the back of his mouth. Why did the army teach him how to protect and serve when he couldn’t even protect those that mattered most? Those are thoughts best left in the dark box he’s buried them in under the gambling, women, and alcohol.
LIKES •
travelling; There’s a reason he’s a drifter and not holed up in some fancy hotel in Amarillo. He likes what he does and will continue to do it for as long as he pleases.
revolvers; Nothing better than the weight of a pair of revolvers slung around his hips.
gambling; Where’s the fun in having your dead families fortune unless you blow a little of it on irresponsible things?
DISLIKES •
loud mouths; If you have something useful to say than say it, if not shut your damn mouth and crawl back in the sewer you came from.
uppity prostitutes; Who wants to pay a prostitute that thinks she’s too good for her work?
liars; Two-faced back-stabbing double-crossing jackasses should know their place at the bottom of the food chain.
WEAKNESSES •
cards; What hot-blooded American can resist a good game a cards? Doesn’t matter the game, as long as there’s money involved.
expensive liquor; You gotta be made of sterner stuff than Jake here if you’re gonna walk away from an expensive bottle of whiskey.
weaklings; Just can’t help but root for the underdog, and he occasionally gets into trouble defending said underdog; he’d blame it on the booze.
STRENGTHS •
gunmanship; Serving in the army in the past he was a sure win for a higher rank due to his uncanny accuracy with his revolvers.
intelligence; Despite appearances and his unconventional way of thinking he was actually applauded for his intelligence and cool head in any kind of fix.
FEARS •
christianity winning; Where would all the prostitutes go? And the gambling? And the booze for God’s sake? Who wants to live in a world like that?
northerners; If they win the next thing you know everyone’ll be walkin’ around in white wigs and toupee’s, calling prostitutes ladies and drunks gentlemen.
"And they've given you a reason to fight."
[style=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;]FAMILY • Mother- Dana Cicero, father- Daniel Cicero, sister- Natalie Cicero. All deceased.
PETS • Val- Palomino stallion full name is ‘Valor’s Last Stand’
HISTORY •
[/style]PETS • Val- Palomino stallion full name is ‘Valor’s Last Stand’
HISTORY •
Daniel Cicero was a hard man to grow up with as a father. He had served in the military like his father before him and his father before him. It was only assumed that Jason would take his rightful place in the long line of Cicero males that had served their country proudly. Jason was almost trained from the cradle to expect what the life of a soldier would be like for him. And indeed he did follow in the footsteps left behind for him by his forefathers and joined the army in Fort Stockton. He served from the youngest age they would accept recruits and rose quickly in the ranks. A mixture of his father’s training and his own natural talent proved him to be an innate leader, highly intelligent, cool headed, and a dead shot. Qualities that promised only to take him to the very top of the army’s rungs of power.
But life doesn’t always follow the path and take the turns you want it too. On the eve of his promotion ceremony his family was late. To many this would seem a small thing really but Jake knew his dad better than he knew himself. Daniel had retired not long ago but the thought of being late to any event would horrify the man, he’d rather cut off one of his own limbs than break his word. After the ceremony was over Jake saddled up one of the army mounts and headed home as he’d been given leave to discover what had held up his family. They knew as well as he did that something had to be wrong. He found them not three days later, mugged and left to hang on the side of the road. His mother and little sister’s bodies having been violated and strung up like common criminals.
Filled with rage Jake worked for months on their cases, exhausting all his resources in the army until eventually they told him to quit. To hand the case over to someone else, someone lower in station that had time to work on this like this. Something inside Jake snapped at that, all the self-control, all the discipline he’d been taught from the cradle dissolved in one blinding moment of rage. Uncontrollable rage at not only the murders that had killed his family and his superiors but even his father. The man that had shackled his true feelings, wants, and desires behind an impenetrable wall of expectations and rules. Needless to say Jake quit not long after, although depending on who you talk the story could have been that he was discharged for fighting. He became no better than a drifter, albeit a wealthy one. Generations of penny pinchers and his own funds from his time in the army added up to a tidy fund. Not that anyone would know that by looking at his appearance or way of speech.
"And you're not going to take what they've got to give,"
[style=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;]ROLEPLAY SAMPLE •
[/style]What a bitch. The slightly drunk thought bounced around in Jake’s head, so much in fact he wasn’t sure if he was thinking it or saying it at this point. Stumbling over a precariously placed rock, ripe curses split the air as he flailed his arms in a sloppy attempt to catch himself. This time it worked, as he righted himself on his feet and swiped impatiently at his hat. Stuffy hat this one is, not like the hats they make you wear in the army. Thoughts of the army almost always soured a good drunken rant so he skipped happily over this one and continued his amble to where he’s left his horse. Good horse that one, really good horse. Why I couldn’t have asked for a better horse if I’d bent my head and asked God all-mighty himself. Which according to that frigid nun I should have asked for his forgiveness a long time ago. The merriment that last thought caused him spilled from his lips in a full bodied laugh; an ill-tempered smirk formed next with a glint in his eyes any could recognize as unholy hell bent on destruction.
As far as he was concerned God should bend his head to him an apologize for all the shit he’d thrown his way. Wasn’t enough to have an asshole as a father but he had to lose the son-of-a-bitch to gang wars before he could tell him what he really thought about him. Jake spit the bitter taste coating his tongue onto the ground. He should have known better than to get drunk tonight. He had already felt the thoughts of his family floating on the surface of his thoughts before he’d picked up that bottle. Then again maybe that was why he’d picked up the bottle to begin with. Jake knew his moods better now after living with only himself to answer to and he had known, from experience, that picking up that bottle would only allow the stopper he’d put on his families murders to slip. The dark place he’d sealed them all up in only cracked when he’d already almost been thinking about it and then started drinking to make it worse.
He normally had his guard up, Jake sighed tiredly as his little camp came into view with Valor standing calmly munching on the surrounding grass. Good thing I laid the bedroll out already, was Jake’s last thought as another precariously placed rock appeared right before he could kneel down into his bead. Wheeling his arms again in a valiant, if desperate, attempt to catch himself this time he failed. Flopping face first into his bed roll Jake gave up and succumbed to sleep. The only place he could escape from the thoughts of what he’d lost whenever he was drunk. Valor glanced over at the sleeping human as his snores rose to epic proportions due to the way he was sleeping and snorted. One could almost say in derision.
"And you're not going to let them take your will to live"
[style=text-align: left; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; padding-top: 10px; padding-left: 10px; padding-bottom: 10px;]IF FOUND, PLEASE NOTIFY STARRI IMMEDIATELY. THEY HAVE BEEN SEARCHING TWENTY YEARS FOR THIS INDIVIDUAL. PLEASE MEET AT THE SHERIFF'S OFFICE, AND RECITE "WOULD YOU OM MY NOM?" IN ORDER TO RECEIVE YOUR REWARD.
this table was created by grey, and is to be used nowhere else.
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