KINGSTON, Valor Rogue

[Deleted]

VALOR ROGUE KINGSTON

FULL NAME: valor, rogue, kingston.
NICKNAMES: Swift
AGE: Twenty-Seven
GENDER: Male
SEXUALITY: Straight
STATUS: Single
GROUP: Citizen
GRADE: N/A
MAJOR: N/A
JOB OCCUPATION: Bar Staff – Font Bar

HAIR: Dark brown, Ratty/Messy, Often greasy and unkempt
EYES: Blue
SCARS/BIRTHMARKS: Lots of scars, primarily tracks, covering his arms, hands, neck and feet
TATTOOS: Many, mostly skulls and are usually covered unless nude. More prominent ones include and upside down cross beneath his left eye and sparrow on the left side of his neck
PIERCINGS: none
PLAY-BY: ash stymest

LIKES: Tea, Alcohol, “Recreational” Street Drugs, Nature, Dogs, Climbing Trees, Drawing, Tattoos, Cigarettes, Reptiles, Cats, Small Critters, Writing, Music, Children
DISLIKES: Television, Internet, Most Electronics, Police Officers, Nosey People, Animal Abuse, Pollution, Religion, Superiority complexes, Loud noises, sweets, crackers, peanut butter
FEARS: Shark Attacks, Drowning, Dying Alone
SECRETS: He secretly desires a family with proper parental units, structured family life, and a wife and kids of his own.
PERSONALITY: Valor Rogue Kingston is not a personable human, he does not care for the company of many people. He doesn't believe he needs friends nor does he believe he deserves them. He's rude and reckless not caring how his decisions effect others around him and those who might care about him. Valor won't crack under pressure, he's a disorganized packrat, and can be cruel towards fellow humans. Valor is not all bad, no one can be. Valor has a lot of compassion for animals, especially his best friend Barbossa. He is anti-war and follows Native American spirituality. There are many layers to Valor, uncovering them is quite an adventure.

• Rude - often snarky and snippy for no reason
• Reckless - participates in illegal activities that alter his mind and destroy his body
• Disorganized - very messy, often losing things
• Flaky- not good for being on time or keeping meetings
• Compassionate toward animals
• Anti-war - despite his general distaste in humans he is anti-war
• Sarcastic - it's hard to draw a straight answer from him
• Active - often on his feet, moving and on the run
• Adventurous - likes to explore both within and outside the city limits
• Creative - what he lacks for in smarts he makes up for in creativity
• Suspicious of people - is not quick to trust anyone
• Self-Loathing - thinks poorly of himself and the value of his life
• Sweet- Once you break through his shell he's a sweet guy
• Excitable - quick to be excited over even minor things
• Forgetful
• Self-Indulgent
• Paranoid - Often fearful that people are using him

MOTHER: Summer-Breeze Kingston, 52
FATHER: Justice Kingston, 54
SIBLINGS: None
OTHERS: None
PETS: Barbossa, Belgian Shepherd Mix, Dog
HOMETOWN: Cambridge, North Carolina
HISTORY: Deciding what to name your children is a complicated situation for many parents. It can cause fights between both parties and their families. When you're born, you are given this name. This name identifies a specific unique and identifiable individual, you. Your surname identifies you to your family; it's a clan name, in many ways. His was odd, Valor Rogue Kingston. Valor Kingston had a birthday of 22 April, 1987, making him nearing twenty-seven by this date. Valor started out in an awkward position, he was born to a street walker and a drug monger only to be sold to a young hippie couple for a quick buck. Summer-Breeze and Justice took him in and cared well for him. They taught him their way of life, their love of nature and Earth and their general disdain for government. Justice and Summer weren’t any sort of proper parent, they gave him freedom to do as he pleased but they made sure he was safe and had what he needed to survive. They did their best with him, but their lax in judgement didn't keep him out of the bad crowds. At sixteen, an addict of three years and horribly strung out he left high school and hoped a train across the country. He rode the trains, constantly on the move and never settling down. At twenty-five he hopped a train to New York City. He stayed there for some reason. Something about the Big Apple captivated him and he was here to stay for now. When he first got here, he ran into a German/Belgian Shepherd mix living in Central Park. Valor called him Barbossa and when he moved into a trashy apartment, he brought Barbossa with him. While staying in NYC and still carrying an active addiction he managed to find a job by some miracle, that job is enabling him to keep his trashy apartment and keep Barbossa fed and cared for and that's all that really matters to him these days.

YOUR ALIAS: Riley
RULE WORDS: kidnappedbykim
WHERE YOU FOUND US: Proboards Support
SAMPLE:

Recollecting on previous thoughts, past declines and further more his reckless behavior. He couldn't shake the thoughts recently, of the crime he'd pulled off not so long ago. His head hurt, and he just needed to clear it. Where better to clear your head then the lake? Vincenzo closed his blue eyes beneath those brand name sunglasses. Chances are they were his girlfriends sunglasses at one point, but whatever, he took them. He wore a white button up shirt, a black tie and a black vest. Black dress pants and shiny black dress shoes completed his outfit. All of this indicated the lightly tanned boy in mostly black, had money. If he didn't then someone close to the twenty-one year old did.

That much was true, the twenty-one year old Italian man, Vincenzo, was son to the owner of a massive vineyard back in Italy. Vince gave a soft sigh and sat on a rock near the lake. Blue eyes peering through the sunglasses coldly. The angry stare watched the water. It's not that he was angry with anyone...He was angry with himself, sort of. He felt remorse, but where he was standing with his family, he wasn't supposed to. He knew, that if something had happened to Romeo, like what had happened to that little boy, he'd go insane looking for the killer. It was days like these Vincenzo wished he could just go back, find the boys mom, and tell her he was the one responsible. The thing was though, it wasn't an accident. There was plot behind it.

Vince looked into the water. Yeah, both of them were gunned down and given no mercy and who to lead the pack in on them other then Vincenzo, who'd thrown two clean shots and hit both males. The pack really wasn't needed and the boy could have been spared, but he didn't need the boy spilling the beans and he needed his pack for backup. Living the life of a mobster surely sucked, especially in such a small town. Sometimes he missed living in Italy, but really his being here was all a plot, not that he'd tell anyone about it. Things here were always going to be different for Vincenzo, people drove on the wrong side of the road, they did some of the strangest things, and at restaurants, it was like they had no manners. Vincenzo thought it evenly through, whether being here was worth it or not, in the coin toss, Deadwood had proved itself worthy.

Even in the heat of the day, Vince couldn't be bothered to roll up the sleeves on his long sleeve white button up shirt. Picking up on a noise, of water being moved, he looked up. A boy was there washing his leg. His eyes scanned the banks of the lake, a girl was here too. Maybe he should leave? The back of his hair was spiked in a purposely messy fashion, and the front and sides lay flat, covering a portion of his tanned Italian face. Facial piercings and the way his hair was styled kind of made people shrug off the idea of a mobster, which was good, because then he wouldn't have anyone on his back, asking him all sorts of lame questions and such.

Vincenzo looked at the lake water. His fine Italian clothing wasn't to get dirty, or wet from this lake, he wouldn't have any of that mess. Then why wear such fine clothing? Well it was all he really owned. He bought his clothes from Italian shoppes, meaning online or over the phone, or his sisters and grandfather shipped it to him. They were good to him, really they were. Fine Italian clothing, he'd grown up in it, with The Don for a grandfather, you had anything he wanted to give you. Life was good.

Blue eyes weren't common in Italians, that most people thought. Little did they know, that Northern Italians were blond haired and blue eyed. Sicilians though, they were the dark haired and dark eyes, their olive skin pigment was darker too. Olive, yes, that was the skin tone they classified under. He laughed when people called him tanned, but it's true, to the folks around here he was really tanned. That's what you get for living and being raised in Italia. Being here in America was great too, he supposed, he just got frustrated when people couldn't understand him through his thick accent. Sure it was hard to grasp, but really, what was so hard about listening? If you listened and had the tolerance you could understand him just fine.

It wasn't so much that they didn't listen around here that bothered him so much, no, Vincenzo could careless as long as he wasn't being annoyed. It was that they discriminated him so quickly. Sure, he WAS a mobster, but that didn't mean people should take one look and just assume he was. Wasn't that like, racist? Did he just pull the racist card? Oh how he hated that card. It was a cop out that told people you couldn't take their words and really it wasn't that Vincenzo could not take their words and their discrimination, it was he just didn't like the flat off assumption.

Mob work was hard undercover. In Italy, people knew, but they didn't seem to do anything, they knew by your last name where you were going to be, well, okay with Vincenzo it was difficult because it was his mother's side of the family that was the mob crew, not his fathers. So Vassalo, was the mob, Geravoni was unknowingly to the world around them, affiliated by marriage. This Geravoni though, had planned on changing his last name back to Vassalo, but it wasn't worth the risk of being caught up with the police force here in America for.

[kim]