Of Booze and Burlesque OOC

Setting: The city of Vangate in the small country of Cecreules was once a joyful city known for its large number of bars and brothels. Ruled by a heavily bureaucratic council, regulations and laws were rarely passed, meaning the majority of what was illegal in the surrounding countries was perfectly legal here. This quickly turned against the populace, luring criminals, con men and all sorts of unsavory characters. Realizing that anymore inaction would most likely result in dire consequences for their city and populace, a group of young, upstart council members quickly seized control of the government via a number of legal loopholes and military bribery. They’re aim was to outlaw everything that had once been legal. They outlawed everything from prostitution to over sugared sweets, hoping to discourage anymore hedonism and created multiple new agencies to enforce these new rules. Unfortunately, their new laws had the opposite effect, creating new organized crime rings in their cities that ruled in everything that the government had once profited from. Chief among these was the booze trade, with speakeasies and bootleggers cropping up all over the region.

Plot: It’s been 5 years since the change in policy, and the booze trade is chief of the illegal indulgences. Various organized crime groups control the trade and speakeasies throughout the city. Government response has been brutal, with investigation and revenue agencies cracking down, making it difficult to run booze without being a part of a larger organization. These mobs also take great offense to anyone muscling in on their profits, pushing out or eliminating any competition. Our group will be a few of these independent operators, banding together to resist the mobs and the government alike. Technology has advanced to a place where it is equal to tech in the 1920’s, and magic is quite common. Races are the same as your standard DnD layout.

Baddies:

The Civic Investigation Division (CID) - A department created for the set purpose of investigating crimes on the larger scale. Much of their activities consist of taking down gangs, preventing the trade of illegal drugs or alcohol, or serial killings. However, many heads of this division are corrupt and easily swayed by money or power; it is well known that some of them bend at the will of the larger gangs. Some of the lower ranking officers still believe in justice, though they have a huge turnover rate when officers who have been at the job long enough realize the scandals and bribery that occur behind-the-scene.

Mobs/Gangs

Bluebloods - One of the most powerful gangs with a bone to pick with just about everyone outside their circle. And when I say powerful, I mean because of their sheer size and aggressive attitude. They have a surprising range of ages involved, from young ones to older folk, which may explain how their influence can be seen in multiple pockets of the city. They usually use brute force to get others to join and pledge allegiance, however they make up for this with undying loyalty and care for its members (this may be why blood is referenced--as they treat their group much like a close family). They train their members in martial arts and weapons as soon as they join, such that the violence runs rampant wherever they are. The chaos makes it easier to get the feds off their backs, anyway.

Jade Snakes - A prominent gang warring with Bluebloods and the government. Many of their members are women, picked up off the streets or saved from the abuses of society. Oftentimes, they seem to collect them when they are young so they are conditioned to stay loyal to the gang. They are led by three of their founders and their actions are often decided by a democratic vote; however, when pressed they will let the original three make decisions. They tend to be quieter than Bluebloods, sticking to indirect methods and less violence to get their way. This makes the neighborhoods they control more in favor of their rule. They are thought to have more connections with the CID and other officials to get their way.

Roles:
• Logistics
• Bootlegger ringleader
• Bootlegger runners
• Speakeasy Muscle
o Bartenders
o Brewer

Bio Template:

Name: State name:  Henery Theadore Monro (Everybody calls him Monro)
-born Zinqen Danglebash
Age: I`m a say early to mid-twenties here because idk how half elve ageing works in this setting. A very young adult. Wet behind the ears.
Race:  Half Elve
Role: Former bartender towards runner, wannabe brewer.

Personality: Monro is, an emotionally scarred young man. He`s fond of thinking of his traumas as being jabby. States school was, of course, full of traumatized children but most of them had been abandoned, neglected, left behind after death, or taken from their parents at birth or soon after. Scaring, but in a serrated way, closure knowing the end. Probably dead, and dead hit very differently. He always somewhat envied them just feeling abandoned. To have that love, feel that bond and have that torn from you..it left a hole.

He can be full of charm and charisma when it suits him, a people person and a con man. His true self though is more broody, reserved, and melancholy. Walls built up high, and he struggles with any sort of bond or connection to people. Has a powerful thirst to prove himself as something beyond a Gardner and all that was drilled into him at the school. This can work in his favor hard work, never giving up, resilient, and etc. It can also lead to rash movements, pushing himself to far to fast, and other less helpful tendencies. Some obsessive tendencies adapt easily, high intelligent, inventive, and creative.

He has a sarcastic and irreverent sense of humor mostly made up of inside jokes with himself.

Prone to vices hookers and cigarettes mostly.

Practices mediation daily, and some minor aspects of an old elven religion. Not devout or even all that spiritual but some superstitious rituals that comfort him.

Appearance: Monro is tall, lanky, rather average build for a half elve. Tanned skin, piercing elmerard green eyes, messy wavy brown hair, and of course the signature half elve ears pointed at the top, slightly rounded towards the bottom. Scars on his back from the lashing wounds as a child, various other minor scars around his body from minor scrapes.

Normally wears rather simple cloths, with a brown overcoat, some cheap jewelry on his fingers that turns his fingers green. A rather lavish pendant, he keeps tucked under his shirt, real gold chain, a family crest engraved on the front and a picture of a smiling mixed-race couple inside. Never lets it out of his sight. Almost always has a cigarette in his mouth, sliver lighter with the same family symbol on it carried in his pocket.

History:
Charles Von Danglebash came from a wealthy noble family, born with a poets heart and eyes. A gentle soul who saw beauty and meaning in everything he saw, obsessed with literature, music, art, and the existential questions of the world. His powerful merchant family may have even grown tired of these tendencies but they let them be once he also took a shine to a rather specific trade. An innate talent for the great art of alchemy. In his studies, he made various colleagues and friends of various stripes. Including a beautiful, gentle, and kind-hearted elven herbalist, who captured his mind, heart, and imagination. The way he saw the world, and his soft and gentle musings pulled her in and her calm and serene way of just accepting and feeling the things around her captivated the poet. They swiftly and secretly fell in love resulting in a boy baring both his family name and a name of Elvish origin.

Zinqen was the greatest joy either of his parents had ever known, a young boy smothered in love, and treated with a gentleness unlike any other. Raised in secret for a while, and even once things leaked out as things often do neither would abandon the boy or each other. Charles would read and sing to him every night, and spend the days showing him all he could at his alchemy tables. His mother would sit with him in love and meditation, teaching him how to feel and connect with the world and nature around him as well as how to use it.

It was idyllic.

For a time.

The family was of course never going to allow one of there most promising sons to live in squaller and foolishness tarnishing their name. They managed to call him away one day under the guise of a dying mentor only to forcibly drag Charles aboard a vessel bound for another land. “For his own good” of course. Leaving the boy with only his mother..

For a while.

She found herself fallen quite chronically ill, not many resources available to her kind in the city she had to languish in it. Following his mothers guidance and some of what his father had left behind Zinquin managed to help and care for her creating poultices and such to manage her pain. Until one day somehow the state caught wind, and interveined. Not to help her of course, but to relocate the child for his "betterment"...no matter how hard he screamed…

Mother Ulstra`s State School, that is where he was sent. A dreary and damp building, full of half-elves and other urchins who were there to be raised “acceptably”.  His hair was cut short, and he was renamed “properly” as Henery David Monroe. The adjustment was not easy, every child there took there lashings but Zinquin..or the one formerly known as...took the record until he learned how to fly under the radar and adhere to there system. As well as how to skirt around it. Taught decourmin and the proper structure of things, and how to behave within it. Or as he tended to take the lessons on how to maneuver in and around it. His school records do note his high level of intelligence and communication skills, as well as his talents in alchemy, herbalism, and magic. However, these records also state that while he posses these talents and traits that they are “highly inappropriate" for one of his "stature”  The records instead suggest that given his standing his greatest potential is that of a master gardener. So that's what they taught him….horticulture...and how to be a servant.

In that they succeded, the elite of the city may not be able to tell you what his eyes look like but they will tell you how great he makes their petunias look. However they did not succeed in breaking him, or his independence streak. To much time spent with the parents, I suppose. Choosing to go by Monro rather then Henrey, and doing things in his own way. Working and overseeing landscaping and gardening for multiple estates throughout the city, flitting back and forth between working on contract. Spending most of his free time and taking up residency in various taverns and brothels throughout the city.  Running side business, selling simple blams and tonics for various minor things mostly to those on the lower side of society, doesn`t make much money of it but that nots the point of it.

Hidden behind all of that though is what he considers his real career, his best chance towards anything close to glory. Before he was fully cemented as a Gardner he made coin in other ways. Ran assorted scams and cons all through his youth and around 18 or 19 got work as a bartender at one of the groups speakeasies, before forcing his way up to runner.

Now believing his unique background makes him well suited he`s set his sights on a new position, as a brewer. You're either moving up or you're a failure as he tells himself. Not quite sure how he`s gonna get there yet but he`s been tinkering with some setups of his own hidden away.

Skills:
Street smarts: Grew up and thrives on the streets, knows the ins and outs of the city street lives, and how to maneuver.

Connections and access: Has servants access to various estates and buildings, friends with many of the working and servents classes that he can use as contacts, cover as a gardener helps with move shipments without notice (something about a wagon full of organic fertilizer makes the guards not want to dig through it), greenhouses that the nobles love to brag about but never set to far into full of hideyholes, and etc.

Nature Magic: Can control plant life to a certain degree, communicate to it, sense things amiss in nature, summon strong winds, and manipulate growing environments.

Herbalism and horticulture: He knows his plants.

Alchemy: Not fully trained but some skill and knowledge from his father.

Minor healing magic: Just enough healing power for minor wounds.

Poltices: Can mix up poltices and remedies for certain ailments. No miracle cures and not quite full-on medicine, mostly symptom relief.

Creative and experimental: Allways trying and working on new ideas

Can read and write some Elvish tongue.  

Other: Carrys two daggers on him for weapons.

Name: Belwar “Gramps” Nackle of clan Shelfcleaner
Age: 230
Race: Deep Gnome
Role: Brewer
Personality: Gramps is the kind of eccentric you only get from living long enough to have ran out of fucks to give a quarter of a century ago. He is brimming with confidence and will speak his mind loudly about anything and everything whether he asked to or not. He has a peculiar way of speaking full of metaphors, obscure references, and stories that go nowhere. He has a handful of odd habits and unconventional methods. He ignores any doubts or criticisms with impunity.
Appearance: Gramps is rather slender for a deep gnome resembling a covered halfling more than a deep gnome. Being shorter lived than the surface gnomes, Gramps is approaching the end of his life, made evident by the many deep wrinkles in his hands and face. He has a long white beard and mustache, both curled upwards into neat points. In contrast his head is smooth and shiny. Despite shunning technology in general, saying that good things take time-or magic, he has taken a liking to modern fashion. He wears suspenders and vest over a button-down shirt with slacks. He is shoes are polished to a shine, just like his glorious bald scalp. He prefers synesthetic mass-produced fabrics, but will ignore anyone who points out this hypocrisy.
History: Gramp’s family was one of the many dark clans that moved to the surface after a booming surface economy increased demand for precious gems, metals, and those with the talent to work them. Being out competed by dwarves and other skilled craftsman he and others turned their keen minds to herbology and magic.

Over time Gramp’s became one of the most renowned brew masters in the area. His distillieries provided for all the largest bars and noble houses.  Refusing to scale down operations and go into hiding, his outfit was one of the first to be shutdown by the new government regulations. His bull headedness and idiosyncrasies had lead larger gangs to avoid businesses with him in favor of partnerships with brewers who produce larger and “safer” batches of what Gramp’s emphatically refers to as “low grade swill for blathering simpletons with no sense of taste or adventure”  

Skills: Gramp’s is (in his own opinion) and unapparelled brew master. Not only will his drinks get you black out drunk, but they come packed full of various magical properties which are at times, questionable, but never unintended.

He is also, less famously, a powerful wizard. While years of testing his own creations has taken a toll on his memory, limiting the number of spells he can prepare he has an impressive spell book, and claims (often truthfully) that for any problem “there’s a spell for that.” His expertise is in transmutation magic with a fair dabbling in illusion, and of course he knows fireball, because what self respecting wizard doesn't.

As a deep gnome he has superior Darkvision, which is like the dark vision many subterranean races have, but superior.

Other: Gramps has distilling barrels made of sapient pear wood. They move on tiny little caterpillar legs, have mouths for lids, are bigger on the inside than the outside, and stupid resilient to damage. This is a shameless rip off of the luggage in Discworld.

Name: Goes by “Ifa”
Age: 29 years
Race: Human witch (specializing in illusions and enchantments)
Role: Bootlegger
Personality: Ifa isn’t a huge people person--she’s quiet and low energy, tending to stick to the background. She internalizes her opinions and thoughts, only speaking up if a matter is very important to her. She doesn’t quite find it easy to place trust in others unless they’ve shown a good amount of loyalty and unconditional support, which is difficult to find in a chaotic city like Vangate. However, this doesn’t mean she is easy to manipulate or soft; rather, she’s very stubborn and doesn’t take shit from anyone, all taught by living on the street for some time. She’s particularly sensitive if someone comments on her exterior (anywhere from clothes or her body) and is prone to snapping when comments come about.
Appearance: She stands at 5’4” with a curvy yet athletic body (you would probably say she has an hourglass shape). In the easiest terms to explain it, she looks like the average human who takes very good care of how she looks. Ifa has a honey-gold complexion, thicker angled eyebrows above round, brown eyes, a small button nose (pierced on the right with a gold hoop), and full, round lips. She’s hardly ever seen without some sort of makeup on, but when pressed for time she still needs to do a perfectly lined cat eye. Her dark brown hair is layered and cut just below her shoulders, slightly wavy and coarse in texture. Much of her style is modest, covering her back, chest, and arms with cotton shirts that allow her to move easily. She usually gravitates towards full-length pants but if need be she wears shorts (but nothing above thigh high). Ifa never goes out without wearing gloves that cover her whole hand.
History: Not much is known about her background. She was an orphan, eventually became a dancer to get money, left, then ended up bootlegging. Ifa doesn’t really like to talk about it, but it’s pretty well known that people from her social class are abused by people higher up on the food chain. Her loyalty doesn’t lie with the group but rather, she gets paid by CID for information she gathers from gangs or bootleggers.
Skills:
-Spells: Most of her magic involves creating illusions and casting enchantments (enchantment meaning allure-- getting attention and attracting others, or even repelling attention in some cases). The enchantments could be on herself, others, or objects; she particularly used this while dancing to get more tips. The illusion magic she learned more recently. She can only hold 2 enchantments at a time or 2 illusions; she cannot easily do both yet. Her enchantments vary in how long they last depending on what they are, but they typically last an 1 hour or until she stops it. Illusions can last up to 30 minutes depending on their size.
-Combat: She’s learned streetfighting and striking; she is best at striking with elbows or knees. But if up against a trained professional she probably would rather not square up against them. She’d probably rather use a gun.
-Other: She’s great at makeup, dancing, blending into a crowd.

Name: Jolene

Age: 24

Race: Human

Role: Bartender

Personality: She has been trained to be charming. She puts people at ease with the slightest smile, disarming them and lowering their guard. She may use this to her advantage, either to get information or materials she needs. She’s intuitive and reads body language as easily as if they spoke their thoughts.
She seems to have some maternal instinct, and will generally reach out to those she thinks are emotionally wounded. She acts older than her age, possibly due to her extensive training.

Appearance: Her beauty is beyond compare, with flaming locks of auburn hair. Her skin is ivory and eyes are emerald green. When she smiles, it’s like the breath of spring. Her voice is soft like the summer rain. Truly, it is hard to compete with Jolene.

Usually, she is dressed in stereotypical bartender garb. She wears a black shirt with a deep V, trimmed with black lace. The design is meant to be alluring and tempting without being too over the top. Like most people in the business, she keeps a revolver strapped to her hip.

History:

Spoiler:

Skills:

Bilingual – Can fluently speak in the two most commonly used languages in the area.

Decent shot – Is relatively accurate with a gun, although handguns within 15ft are her best bet

Allure & Charm – Has a way with words and gets people talking.

The Arts – Was taught different artistic abilities. These include piano, vocals and dance

Extensive anatomy knowledge – Knows the human body very well. Also knows pressure points and other ways to incapacitate someone

Basic poison and traps – Can identify and set up some basic traps

Throwing daggers – Efficient at throwing daggers

Name: Martin ‘Marty’ Lewis

Age: 32

Race: Human

Role: Speakeasy Muscle

Personality: Marty has two mindsets: Business and Pleasure. When he’s working the door, watching the bar, or otherwise playing his part as the tough guy of the group, he’s stern, serious, and takes no shit from anyone. But when he’s not in the public eye of anyone outside the group, the stiff bouncer facade peels away to reveal a man who loves his friends, his drinks, and a good game of cards. He doesn't like to talk about himself, however, and the fastest way to piss him off is to pester him about his personal life.

Appearance: Average height and of a fit build, Marty keeps in good physical shape to help keep out the troublemakers. His hair is a short cut and scraggly brown, and he shaves daily as a leftover habit from his army days. His nose is a bit crooked from having been broken and reset at least once, and his left pinkie finger bends at an odd angle compared to the other.

Outfit-wise, he generally sticks to an odd mix of professional and gruff styles. A white buttoned shirt and black slacks, with a matching black tie and vest, but also some fingerless gloves with tough steel studs on the knuckles, and knee-high leather jackboots. The right boot has a knife holster built in, with the vest having a concealed holster for a holdout semi-auto pistol on the inside, just over his heart.

History: Marty doesn’t talk much about his past. He’s mentioned fighting in the Great War, and that he’d done some generic thug work for a friend of a friend before hooking up with the rest of the current group, but not much more than that. Before the war, he was “A nobody from a whole family of nobodies, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Skills:  Marty can kick you around with just about anything. His fists, a table leg, that sawed-off double-barrel under the second drawer down on the far left. Roughing people up, or even killing them, is just about the only thing he’s good at anymore, and he’s damn fine at it too.

Other: He keeps in close contact with a couple friends from his time in the army, though he refuses to name any names. One supplies him with the myriad of guns he keeps tucked away in any nook and cranny he can in the bar, and the other has hookups with an out-of-town undertaker that’s great at cleaning up ‘accidents’

Name: “Name’s Kinleth. No ah don’t much care te give a surname. Ye’ve got an issue with that? That’s a dem shame.”

Age: “Never ask a lady her age, lad. Unless ye enjoy the taste o’ yer own teeth. Free bit of advice for ya. But since ye’ve gone te the trouble o’ askin’: younger ‘n 30, older than 25. That answer yer question? No? I dun care. Feck off.”

Race: “I’m a person. Like you. Like him. Like….ok not that lad over there. That’s an orc.”
(Kinleth is a tibbit. Tibbits are undistinguishable as such unless they are in cat form *and* someone is albe to see their true nature. Otherwise they look like halflings, or in Kinleth’s case, very short humans.)

Role: Bootlegger Ringleader

Personality: Kinleth is incredibly laid back. While not the most chatty, she carries herself with a confidence born of training. This confidence carries into everything she does, from fighting, to healing her team member, and to just serving drinks at the bar. For being so laid back tho, her temper is a thing of whispered legend. Kinleth’s capacity for revenge is terrifying. If you hurt one of her runners, there is no power on earth that will save you from eating the curb. She’s also been known to give particularly foolhardy coworkers a healthy dressing down. Needless to say, it’s wise not to cross her if it can be helped.

Appearance: A small woman with a strange accent and a shock of curly red hair, Kinleth is 4’ 6” of coiled muscle ready to spring. More lithe than bulky, she generally is seen wearing black slacks with a white blouse and black vest. She’s been seen wearing a dress on occasion, though none are brave enough to bring that up around her. In rare or particularly stressful circumstances, she might even be seen smoking, though this is hardly a regular occurance.

Known History: “Ah’m hardly itchin’ te tell ye mah life story ahm ah? But fine. Feckin’ curious lil’ begger.”

Kinleth seems to have a different story every time someone asks about her past.

“Ah was in te army fer a couple years as a surgeon. Saw a lotta good folks die. Patched em up as best ah could. Thought that after ah came back life would go back te’ normal. Course it didn’t. Some shite even ah can’t heal. So instead started patchin’ folk up on te lowdown. Started to figure out that all that anatomical knowhow were just a’ good fer takin’ folks down as it were fer patchin’ em back up. Joined a couple o’ underground rings, won a few fights, made more n’ a few enemies. Decided a new city were a better idea n’ just sittin like a fool surrounded by folks what didn’t like me. Now ah’m here.”

“Ah was a lady o’ the night fer all o’ 2 hours. Decided that ah didn’t like what my customers thought they was entitled to. Made aboot 10 dollars from what dropped from mah first client’s wallet when he stumbled away clutchin’ ‘is jaw. Some fella nearby decided I’d make a much better bouncer than a whore an offered me a job. Ah took it obviously, cause how else ye get inta this here industry than wit’ a couple o’ underground connections. Jump a couple o’ years, now we here.”

Skills:
Kinleth is a Healer of moderate skills. She’s not a top surgeon by any means, but she can set all but the most severe broken bones and always seems to have somethin’ good for what ails you. Unless it’s a disease. She won’t touch illnesses.

Kinleth also is a fearsome street brawler. While she doesn’t have any martial art skills, her fighting style incorporates the same ideas, using the weak points of the body to take an opponent down to her size.

And don’t let her street brawling skill fool you, she’s also a pretty terrifying shot with a rifle, and her handgun prowess is nothing to sneeze at either. She much prefers rifles though, if she has to shoot.

She’s also an impressive bartender, though she only gets behind the bar if it’s truly needed. She enjoys making new drinks if she gets the opportunity and the alone time.

Abilities:
Kinleth’s healing seems to work a little better than that of most doctors of her skill. It’s not impossible to believe that she’s got some sort of latent healing ability, only activated when she works on people. This may also explain some of her resilience in fights against folks larger than her, taking hits that would lay a girl of her size out and then retaliating while the opponent is off-balance.

And of course, as a Tibbit, she can turn into a cat. Not many folks know that, and she mostly uses it to keep an eye on her runners, showing up like a miracle if they get into trouble that's too far over their heads.

Ok a few things. First we're moving bars right off the bat. Some guidance for your posts:

THere's a trapdoor in the back of the bar beneath a pile of empty crates. A ladder leads down it and if you follow the tunnels it will lead you to a backalley two buildings over from the bar. There's a generic empty warehouse where we've all agreed to meet up if things went screwy.

Right now from what I've gathered, everybody is in the bar except Drummy, who is probably in the separate basement hidey hole which is just a stairs decent separate from the main bar.

Our next speakeasy is going to be inside a library. I'll try to get a bio up tonight.

Name: Allen Greene
Age: 30
Race: Human

Role: Logistics

Personality: Allen is a fairly likeable man. He cares for his coworkers and subordinates and looks out for everyone he works with. Allen is a big believer in pulling your own weight and has little patience for free loaders. He's hardworking, loyal and dedicated to those he holds close. However, Allen has become significantly jaded with anything involving the government and authority in general. This often leaves him to being a rebel without a cause, and it’s proven his downfall in the past, naively dedicating himself to a cause that used him and his skills without being true to his morals.

Appearance: Allen is an average height, with a lean, slightly muscular build. His skin is fair, with wrinkles and a slight haggardness that gives him an experienced and handsome face. Allen keeps his face clean shaven, and his dark brown hair faded on the sides of his head, with the top slicked back with some sort of pomade, or a dry comb if all else fails. His eyes are a light green, resting beneath dark, neat eyebrows and above a slightly crooked nose. He usually dresses in a rumpled suit jacket or trench coat, with solid color button up shirts, simple pants and sometimes a tie. His shoes can range from leather boots to felt dress shoes. He usually adorns his head with some sort of hat, usually a stylish fedora. Allen walk with a noticeable limp as a result of one of many plane crashes during the Great War and has the puckered shrapnel scars to prove it. For weaponry, he often carries some sort of pistol on a shoulder holster, ranging from a semiautomatic to a sawed off shotgun.

History: Allen grew up in a well to do family on the east coast. His father was a politician, and his mother was a home maker. Growing up, he hated the stuffy functions and forced relations his parents made him be a part of and quickly grew to hate the high-class society and authority in general. Around the age of 13 he manifested magical talent and his parents enrolled him one of the best Magical Education Primary schools in the country. Unfortunately for Allen, he only had any luck with teleportation. Even though the school was one of the best in the country, the study of teleportation had received little study over the years because of the difficulty of the discipline. He often times could not meet the standards of his teachers because of his lack of natural aptitude, which made him the target for both his parents’ and his teachers’ wrath. At the age of 18 he ran away and found success working labor jobs in various cities. At the start of the Great War he enlisted to fight, having just been laid off from a factory due to a labor strike. Given his background of high education was made an officer and sent to boot camp with the rest of the recruits.

During the War, Allen served first as leader of a platoon element, before volunteering for the newly formed Air Corp of the main army. He was taught to fly and given a plane, which he flew for the majority wars, being shot down many times and shooting down just as many enemy combatants. Allen was eventually arrested by Military Police after his last crash, which also resulted in the loss of mobility in his leg. Allen was declared MIA after this crash, as two bodies were found but they were indistinguishable, both missing their dog tags. He was court marshalled posthumously on charges of smuggling rationed goods to soldiers, primarily things like cigarettes, extra ammo and candy. The charges against him were eventually dropped and the dead Allen received a general discharge from the Army. Having taken another soldier's identity who had perished in his place in the crash, he served until the end of the war and received an honorable discharge, eventually finding a home in Vangate, just before the Great Reform. Seeing his chance to make a living again and stick it to a puritan government, he began running booze and supplies for various speakeasies, before they were all shut down by the bigger mobs. He worked as a bartender for a small independent speakeasy after the smuggling business dried up, before that place was shut down as well because it couldn’t afford the high protection payments of the mob. Now he runs logistics for the rag tag group, mapping out routes for runners and finding places to set up business. He also handles the money and everyone’s cut, as he is one of the few not in it for the dough. He will often also help out the bartenders if it is a busy night, as he quite likes working the bar and mixing drinks.

Skills: Allen is an extremely skilled pilot and driver. He is also handy with a pistol, thanks to his combat experience during the War. He’s a charming people person as well, especially to those he likes or takes a liking to. He’s well-spoken and educated, even though he tries to hide it when presented with some of the rougher company that frequents his places. Allen has contacts within many government agencies from his smuggling and Army days and can use these to the advantage of the group. From his days working in automobile factories and as a handyman in said factories, Allen is familiar with complex machinery and the inner workings of automobile engines. However, his main talent lies with teleportation. Allen may be one of the most accurate teleporters of this era, and if he has enough magical augmentation behind him can often brute force his way through common wards that are placed that make less skilled teleporters unable to perform the art.

Other: Allen plays a mean harmonica and Spanish guitar, has a lovely baritone and knows many folks songs and drinking songs of the local populace.

The name of the war is "Big Wham Bam Slam Jam"

Posting a screenshot from the discord chat with context about the Great War

Made a sort of DND sheet for Monro

Will update as things go on. Chaotic good bard.

Map of the Bar rn IC wise, since Aro gets lost easily

There is no fire.

There is. You hush

Elvish things I`ve pilfered from maybe not legit web sources used.

Hahlorkh – ‘Butchers’ (UnElf-like Brutes and Savages)

Sal sal have mertel oh O'Si forgive tel'quiet=I I have killed oh mother forgive me

Will probelly just came back here and edit as I use it for those chars who know the knife ear tongue..

Elvish translation:

"Whatever happened, it was not your fault. The world changes and us along with it. We all have our roles to play, and sometimes they are frightful ones. But we still have each other, my friend. Let us see this scene til the end."

Stolen mostly from funtranslations.com/elvish and filled in with some mumbo jumbo that the translator didn't translate.

The post is up after puttering at it all day. It`s not great but its not terrible. Noticing I have Monro sigh and roll his shoulders a lot IDK why he carries a lot of tension there it. Joellen should use her body language skills and call him out on it at some point though.

 The elvish is I Love her from the lingo jam translator but before the ships get sailing it spat this out at me:Sal aestar (romantic) / thiramen (soulmate) / quarlani'har (platonic) siin


 He used the platonic one. The method I mentioned Monro trying to do was this: He was using it to mediate in my first post. It`s a method I use in my everyday life.

Isn't Monroe's Elvish crap, would he really know the difference?

I'm debating if its going to set off Gramp's flashbacks or not.

Listen Drum Listen....

You think to much....


I`m saying he knows the plutonic one and the soulmate one, as he probably heard both those said as a child. Thinking on it which of the three would a mother say to there child? Probably the last one, so he for sure heard that.

And his Elvish isn`t quite crap per say but it`s not formally learned and trained like Jolene. He heard it around the home conversationally, and his mother may have taught him some of it. Though he lost that environment at a young age. Though younger children do absorb language better so...

The orphanage probably didn`t teach him anymore but there were other half elves/elves even that he may have spoken it with.

Is anyone planning to continue with this? I can crank out a post in the next couple days if people will respond afterwords.