Post by lawrence elliot dalgliesh on Oct 31, 2009 21:12:42 GMT -5
Lawrence Elliot Dalgliesh
27 . U.S. Marine . Steadfast
27 . U.S. Marine . Steadfast
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character name - - -[/size][/color] [/blockquote] [/blockquote]Lawrence Elliot Dalgliesh
character nicknames - - -[/size][/color] [/blockquote] [/blockquote]Law; Elli
character age - - -[/size][/color] [/blockquote] [/blockquote]twenty-seven
character personality - - -[/size][/color] [/blockquote] [/blockquote]easy going, charming, loyal, sophisticated, street-wise, humorous, unstable, volatile, detached.
character history - - -[/size][/color] [/blockquote] [/blockquote]Lawrence lives a simple life despite having not been wanted as a child; abandoned at the emergency exit at Lincoln Hospital - Bronx, NY. It had never turned sour for Lawrence since then though, and the truth was, was that Lawrence knew nothing of such happenings due to being an infant. He had been taken in and cared for by the day and night staff, but moreso by one in particular; Eulogia Benabe-Dalgliesh.
Born and raised in the South Bronx, Lawrence lived by with the necessities given by his foster-mother and father - Eulogia and Percy. He had been taken in by Eulogia and treated as she might her own. Truth be told, she was his mother; not biologically, of course. Yet, Lawrence would not have replaced her for the world. Yet, despite having what a child may need, Lawrence had a peculiar time attempting to find himself. Especially more so as a young adult until the age of eighteen.
There's only so many things one could do with schooling and living a life of dead ends. Lawrence worked small tasks and odd jobs within his community; assisting with events and at local merchantiles. Except these were only minor footnotes within his life; something that he was nigh willing to forget then and there. It had taken only a few days to decide what he had wanted to do.
Lawrence made a decision that will forever mark and change him as he joined the United States Marine Corps. During a state of panic of terrorism Lawrence was one of the first sent to the Middle East. Upon his return things changed. As for what?
Lawrence doesn't say.
Returning with a detached demeanor and quiet look about him, Lawrence now looks onto the city with a mixed gaze full of hope and wonder. He now attempts to find himself again and find a semblance of normalcy within his once unsettling world.
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all about you - - -[/size][/color] [/blockquote] [/blockquote]
ooc name: Andre
pb being used: Henry Cavill
years of experience: 7
membergroup: citizen
average post, must exceed 450-500 words to be accepted, and that is on an average. no pictures, just the words.
Role Play Sample :: He had nigh forgotten that he had been laying on the sidewalk sprawled there. He could taste blood in his mouth and pain blooming at the back of his head. His hair was wet not only with pale ale but blood. His hand releases the cameo hanging from his neck only to smooth backward and through his hair to touch upon that sore patch of offended flesh. He manages to simultaneously pull his legs up and under him before sitting backward and onto his haunches to regain his composure. After his head finally stops swimming, Julian manages to get himself onto his feet whilst his ears thrum with the sound of slurred words and the utterings of people around him.
It had been ages since he had last stepped into the ring...
..."I want you to dance around him and then bury him!"...
Julian had always been fast on his feet. It's why his face still looked clean and pretty. Although, to be fair, it's his money maker, or so he'd tell others with an amusing glint to his eyes. Still, Julian was nigh untouchable. In fact, he's moving to and fro with ease upon the toes of his feet and swinging past wayward haymakers and hooks thrown by his opponent, and all the while he's moving closer and closer; drawing near until...
One-Two-Three.
Two left jabs followed by a right straight was enough to break his opponent's nose and leave the man falling to the sidewalk until the back of his head struck cement. It's sound was a crunch reminiscent to bones breaking. It's enough to leave Julian staring at the man laying there still and twitching. He didn't wnat to fight. Julian never did. Why would he? He had nothing to prove and he knew his own power; he knew his own strengths.
Julian was a speed fighter with a proper punching technique and magnificent angles that would leave any other fighter feeling trapped and slow. He could beat anyone to the punch, and truth be told, the only harsh hits he had ever taken in life had been ones he had allowed...like this one. It's why his mouth tastes of blood from having bitten his tongue. Perhaps Julian should have learned by now. Yet, then again, he was still a man first, no? This was the way of life. It was the base instinct of any man -- any human.
His hands fall away from his boxer's stance as a quiet fell over the corner of that block. It's then that the lights of the Sherwood flicker overhead only to illuminate the lax figure laying there with a puddle of blood marring the cement beneath his feet. He sidles away and pushes through the thick crowd that had grown over the time of the fight, and within an instant, Julian found himself leaving the scene.
