Post by Ricter on May 6, 2009 11:31:29 GMT -5
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Player Information
Handle: ricter
Gender: Male
Contact Information: Mail- farmn2002@yahoo.com
Other Characters Here? None
Character Information
[/size][/b]Canon? No
Character Name: Ricter Niche
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Species/ Breed: Weasel
Current Occupation: Foundry Thug
Personality: They say that life is full of wonder and mystery. Ricter seems to have all but given up those illusions, lost the luster and awe that life could bring. This was not a sudden change, brought on by years of hardship, abuse, and depression shaped him into what some consider a soulless individual. His constant depression and lack of any form of self-preservation can be seen in his all-or-nothing way of doing things, his regular drinking and heavy smoking. It is safe to say that Ricter is never seen without at least one smoldering cigarette between his teeth. His usually cold demeanor is punctuated by either vicious aggression, stoic quiet, or venomous sarcasm. To see him actually smile when it isn't farce is unheard of.
Never one for schooling, Ricter isn't what one would call book smart, having a frighteningly hard time both reading and writing. However, what he lacks in formal education, he has a wealth of common sense and street smarts. One things he knows above all else, was those around him. A 'gift' so to speak he can read someone better than most can read a book, making it hard to try and trick him or lie to him without him being able to spot it. Outside of that, when performing his duties, Ricter is ruthless, a firm believer that the end will always justify the means.
However, a closely guarded secret, Ricter's heart isn't completely made of stone. When he is positive that no eyes are on him he shows a soft spot for orphans and other homeless children and those that have fallen on the hardest times. To most others that he has come to accept he shows a mostly tough form of tough love. Ironically, with his solitary and brooding nature, he fears being alone above all else with a close second being that he will lose those he comes to care. This mental paradox apparently keeps him from forming any lasting relationships.
Appearance: Standing just over six feet in height, nearing sickly thin, it paints the picture of a gaunt and foreboding figure. It doesn't help that his expression is usually fixed in a scowl. Overall, a scruffy look clings to him like plague, another feature adding to his rather unkempt appearance. Cold eyes of a golden, amber color peer out at the world, normally suspiciously narrowed though cigarette smoke. Sharp teeth are almost disgustingly yellowed and never without the filter of a cigarette clamped between them. On the corner of his right eye is a scar, running from just above it to below it about four inches down, narrow but ragged, having been hit with a piece of pipe in a street fight. In addition, most of his left ear is gone, a souvenir from a knife fight. His coloration is a dark gray, like the color of damp ashes.
His clothing is fairly simplistic, practical and rarely changes, mostly due to the fact he doesn't have a lot to change up. Shirts are some variant of neutral colored, long sleeved shirts that are loose and often well worn. Dark colored cargo pants are also worn with any assortment of odds and ends in the pockets, mostly anything he finds to be useful. A pair of black work boots are worn thin, almost all the way through the soles. To cover all this over he has a black, white and gray camouflage jacket, rather old and worn out though still warm. A little large for him, the collar is high and the hood is crumpled around his neck. The last thing Ricter wears that rarely ever comes off is a faded, gray, driver hat. There is a hole in the left side, kind of ragged.
Backround: Ricter was the unfortunate product of a drunken fling that took an unfortunate turn when it turned to pregnancy. His father, Crain Niche married his mother Vilet Morgan merely for the sake of their own little mistake. Needless to say, Ricter's childhood wasn't the nice stuff that a childhood should be, mostly neglected to his mother, a binge drinker and drug addict. he didn't see too much of his father, an industrial worker that labored night and day because he believed it would keep his son fed though it mostly kept his wife high. When Ricter came to the age of five he would regularly skip school to go pick pockets and steal so that he might feed himself, often fearing to come home because his mother would beat him. Despite his father never being around he didn't resent him, as when his father was home, though drunk, he made an effort to be a father.
Once again, things took a turn for the worst when his father died in an accident, leaving Ricter, only seven, and his mother alone in the filth hole they called an apartment. His mother dipped to an all time low, beginning into prostitution to keep up with her growing drug habit while young Ricter began to steal for both his meals and his mothers. That all came to a crumbling end when Ricter's mother took his father's old revolver and shot herself in a drug induced fit of rage when Ricter was but eleven years old. Not able to pay the bills, too inexperienced for a job and still not finished his schooling, Ricter hit the streets. It wasn't until he was fourteen that he finally stopped going to school, realizing that he couldn't put enough time of day into finding shelter and food.
It was only a short time later he came upon a small opportunity, running packages for various shady figures. He didn't mind, they gave him a place to stay and something to eat, so he just did as he was told, moving envelopes or boxes from one place to the next and doing it all over again. When he was sixteen he had figured out that it was organized crime that he had gotten himself into. However, he was reluctant to leave because he didn't have any way out. Slowly he moved up in the organization, still running packages and messages but also collecting from the pimps and dealers for the underbosses, sometimes even accompanying them as muscle.
For quite some time he has been considering the notion that the current social structure has been the source of many of his past problems. Not willing to talk to his boss, considering the simple fact that it wouldn't be dealt with because there was no profit involved, he decided to take his leave from the life of shady dealings, only to get into more, just for a better cause. He sought out to become part of the foundry, his knowledge in weaponry and how to get his paws on it a probably useful talent.
Password: Dragon (I guess?)
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