"I'm deeply disturbed,
And I'm deeply unhappy."
Basics
Name: Andrei Adamovich-Lucescu
Nickname: Enders
Age: 23
Nationality: Born in Kiev. It's unclear as to how he got from there to here, he's unlikely to discuss it. However, he will often reference 'the mountains' on his own.
Role: Citizen
Butcher, listener, small-time shop 'owner'.
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Physical
Hair: Andrei is strawberry blond, which is quite unusual for a Ukranian, especially considering his Romanian-Hungarian genetics. It's cut to be manageable, generally kept swept backwards. It's quite common for a few strands to fall over his face, but they're not long enough to reach farther than his brows.
Eyes: Fittingly enough, they're a cold gray. As a child, they were a much brighter blue- but age has taken the color from them since.
Phenotype: At six foot seven, Andrei is a monster. The irony is that all other members of the Lucescu family range mostly between five foot six and six foot one; he is to his siblings and uncle as a horse is to a dog. This comparison also lends itself well to describe his build, albeit he's more of an ox than a horse. Broad shouldered and well-muscled, with large hands and a strong foundation, he's all-in-all the kind of guy that looks like he should be permanently stationed at a farm somewhere with his overall rustic gigantism.
Facewise, he's got a fittingly square jaw and a half-developed beard to accompany it. While he does shave, it is with irregularity and often time is given by his forgetfulness by which his stubble begins to grow past 'acceptable' to 'moderately unacceptable'. He's got a nice smile and features as muted as his personality; His nose is straight and curved imperceptibly at the tip, which turns ruddy in the frost and in the presence of alcohol. His eyes are usually half lidded in a manner that is anything but cruel or disinterested, but rather in a very fitting position of calm humility. He doesn't bear any significant birthmarks or wrinkles, and in facial appearance is still quite youthful- however, there is a scar across one of his cheeks which he leaves mostly unexplained- similar to his period of transience between here and Kiev.
As for clothing, like many civilians he does not posses the money to be flashy- but flashiness wouldn't suit his character anyways. Dark pants, white shirts and suspenders are his everyday ideal, usually covered by a dirtied butcher's smock if he's in his own shop. He's very fond of watches, which he will wear more than one of frequently. Due to the necessity of good footwear he is also prone to heavy winter boots even in somewhat inappropriately warm weather.
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On the inside
Orientation: Sexually dispassionate. So far, girls are what he's most interested in. He doesn't seem partial.
Mortal pleasures:
- Alcohol is a big one. Andrei is easily convinced by the promise of alcohol and has a nice collection of flasks which he carries with him.
- Mice and rats. At first they were an annoyance in his shop, but he's come to like their company. He knows more about them than he does most things.
- Listening. Much like a bartender, he's got an open ear. Unlike a bartender, his pocket stays closed. He genuinely wants to know what's on your mind, and honestly doesn't care to extort you through generosity.
- He'll smoke, but not as liberally as some do. It's just stress relief for him.
Never ever:
- Secret police. If he knows you are one, well. With very few exceptions, his judgement of you will be swift and final. There's not much he can do legally, but he CAN choose to make a habit of distrusting you.
- Gossip, demeaning chitchat. One of the few things he's not keen on listening to.
- Flies, roaches and ants. He doesn't like insects which make a living by reproducing in his.
Personality:
"I am not a clever pony."
Enders isn't a very smart guy. That's partly why he's a butcher. He's not really good at numbers, and he's not really good at other languages, and he was equally sub-average in school. However, he is incredibly perceptive in social realms; for what he lacks in educational prowess, Andrei goes almost completely unchallenged in his ability to understand a person just by watching and listening, and his ability to survive in hostile environments is equally unparalleled. Like many animals, he's got an amazing sixth sense for a bad egg and can usually figure out if someone is lying or intends to do harm.
This being said, he's a generally relaxed guy. Though he is by no means care free, he says very little if not spoken to and doesn't make trouble for others. A uniquely industrial being, Andrei is an exceedingly hard worker and takes pride in doing what he does the right way. He genuinely loves his job, as tedious as it is, and is more than willing to help others out with manual labor for little or no pay. Part of it is living up to being the ideal citizen- ask no questions, do your duty to society. The rest of it is that, with few real friends and his family left behind in Ukraine, he's incredibly lonely. He takes solace from a job well done, and keeping busy is good for dulling his human need to care for something.
On the note of his need for affection, Andrei is capable of being a deeply loving individual. He's the kind of guy who brings in stray dogs and cats, feeds them the unmarketable parts of butchered livestock and then cries for a week when the succumb to some sort of disease they caught out on the street. If you get to know him well enough, and he really trusts you, if you ask him what he wants most to be he will readily say 'a father'. Comradery also comes natural to him, and he is intensely loyal to his country. On a deeper level, his dedication extends to friends and actual family without question.
Making Andrei angry is a terrible idea. This is partially because it would take an exceedingly large amount of effort (and dear god you'd have no life if you were just sitting around trying to irritate him) and partially because he'd crush you like the flies he despises so. He does not seem to know his strength, and despite being your typical gentle giant will not be thinking about how badly he might injure you with his great meaty shovel hands when you make the bad decision of sassing him. Having established this, Andrei does not have a good perception of sarcasm, and his sense of humor is restricted to how much of the joke he understands. He'll still laugh to fit in, though.
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HistoryBorn in Kiev to a half-Romanian family, Andrei was the least bright of seven children. In his earliest youth, he did well enough in school. That was, of course, back in the grades where hard work could sometimes make up for a lack of cognitive abilities- and work hard he did. There was nothing else he was particularly good at academically, anyways. However, once he hit grade 8, he was no longer able to make up for his natural dimness by way of hours of studying. His family, having already gone through the effort of putting four sons through college, didn't have the funds or the energy to attempt to salvage him with a tutor; the logical decision was to pull him out of school and train him to help them with their pharmacy.
Andrei left one day. Why isn't certain, not even to him. Often, if this part crops up conversationally, he will simply smile and shrug and say: "Because. I left because." Cropping up one day, he made a life for himself in his new home by partnering up with one of his cousins, Constantine Lucescu, who ran a grocery store with his uncle's help. He was employed as a store butcher and as a part-time janitor, quickly learning to do both things as well as one possibly could. The store profited from his ability to finely cut meat and ensure that as much as was edible could be used efficiently while preserving quality. Compared to his cousin's intrinsic laziness and general shortcomings, he became the favorite within only a few years. Eventually, Constantine left without warning the same way Andrei abandoned home, and his uncle's health began to ail. The man died, of course, leaving the young Andrei to take on the role of taking care of the grocer's, which was small enough for him to handle both as a space and as a financial asset.
Nowadays, the guy more or less just runs the entire twenty-by-twenty foot shop from behind the meat counter and can always be seen either chopping a loin of some sort into thin, aesthetically pleasant slices or sitting behind it with a cigarette half out his mouth, listening to one fellow citizen or another's life story.
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Extra:Theme/s:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=woAcXSMyCEw I've seen the butcher by Deftones
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"Only dead men know what it's like to be saved."
"Your eyes will be blacker than my heart
when I'm through with you"
BasicsName: Nicolae 'Bigsby' DeMorgan
(Nih-Kuh-Lie/Nikolai)Nickname: Nicu, Nick, 'Delhi's Tiger'
(Knee-coo/Nick-oo)Age: 23
Nationality: Romanian
Role: Secret police, former student, presently 'working' as a bartender at the Nag's Den speakeasy as well as a worker at the local copper ore refinery
soldier, observer, the black-hearted ______________
PhysicalNicolae measures in at about five feet, eleven inches; this puts him on the shorter side, especially by Indian standards. Despite his stature the fellow retains a rather graceful leanness, however, gained by years of combat and similar physical activities. This Greco-Roman body type of his, which is comfortably between muscular and lithe, leaves him extremely easy on the eyes when coupled up with his face and dark complexion.
In further detail, Nicolae has all the standard traits of a young man born of Mediterranean heritage; His eyes are a deep, almost black brown with darker colors towards the pupil. His hair is nearly black, with a gentle wave to it which leaves the bangs swept to one side of his face slightly elevated and prone to curling softly with the humidity. Perhaps with these two qualities alone he could be mistaken for a man of the far Western north, however his skin is a deal breaker; when exposed to sun- which India has quite a lot of- it darkens up substantially, leaving him a healthy, warm tan. Two beauty marks, only a fraction of the number which dot his body, are located on his face: one below the lip and one on the same side's cheek. Without them he'd look quite different.
Wardrobe-wise, Nick is a man of little variation- mostly due to a very empty pocket. He is commonly found either in vests and white collared shirts, the uniform of the speakeasy, or a worn gray-brown jacket coupled with dark pants and t-shrits ranging in shades of gray and black. His shoes are without exception dark blue-gray combat boots, but they're most often than not covered by the cuffs of his pants.
Weapon of Choice: Steel gurj, barbed. Gauntlet Bagh Nakh, retractable. Nicolae cannot accurately wield a handgun, his sight has begun to fail him and as the years go by he loses more and more visual ground to senseless blurs. He lacks the money or the prescription to get corrective lenses despite badly wanting them.
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On the inside
Personality: "My thoughts are the cold kind."
Nicolae is gifted with incredible intelligence, but is crippled with a marked lack of education. He picks up information quickly and has an extraordinary reservoir of
useless knowledge from outlandish places, having been deprived of proper schooling and denied access to most literature. With a deep love for information (particularly that which is found in books) and a memory suited to such librophilia, it comes as a surprise to no one that Nicolae keeps both a stash of old novels, magazines and manuscripts in a hole in his mattress as well as a single bound 'journal' bound with sowing string and comprised of worn printer paper which has mostly been scribbled in with no apparent thought process behind the thought-drabbling.
Predisposed by genetics to individualism, Nicolae's nature as a deeply emphatic and self assured individual have left him more or less completely destroyed by government procedures. Everything that could have left him psychologically unstable when subjected to re-education processes was present in him when he first began
training, to call him 'mad' would be a massive understatement. His empathy has become spotty at best, occasionally transforming in a Mr.Hyde-esque manner into volatile sadism. His self confidence has been well transformed and redirected into unquestioning, unfailing, hound-like loyalty. A nagging conscience, an under-stimulated mind and the persistent suspicion that he has been disloyal to his own being has driven Nicolae to chainsmoking and alcoholism, depressants being his only way of remaining docile and reasonable enough for human interaction.The conflicting and mostly splintered parts of Nicolae's fore-conscious act as a septic rot to his sanity, something which both he and his employers are aware of and which both know must eventually be dealt with; All mad dogs are eventually put down.
Orientation: Go awayMortal pleasures: - Dancing
-Good books, of which most have been burned
- Clove cigarettes
-Iced tea
-Mint flavored oreos
- The color red.
Never ever:-Being demeaned or insulted
-Being told he's wrong about something
-Pudding cups
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History
Born to a single mother, Nicolae was not predestined to be part of the Gestapo as the vast majority of men and women involved are; as a child out of wedlock he was naturally under immediate examination by the government which, as is well known, has always labeled such an event very illegal and very inconvenient in terms of their pursuit of genetic perfection. A child without a father was inherently a half mystery, an amalgam of known and unknown chromosomes; the result was to be largely spurned by the government up until the eventual disappearance of his mother.
A uniquely intelligent (far more so than her son without a doubt), it was never clear whether Nicolae's conception was a small act of rebellion on her part or the result of her gentle heart being used and abandoned; for what little time the boy remained with her, she did what she could to found in him a sense of morality and responsibility. It's always been known that a restricted family breeds close respect and affection under the right conditions; By the time Ms.DeMorgan simply vanished off the face of the earth Nicolae was more or less unconsciously acting on the motives of self preservation, self education and moral integrity, and by the time he left the government home he found himself in those traits were fault lines in a young and already unstable mind.
His time under public care was short lived; one of several cases of similar but rare natures, Nicolae was determined to have agreeable genetic traits and a predisposition to loyalty that would have made him ideal for use in the secret police. Re-education was in order.
Whatever happened between ages seven and eighteen must have been something extreme, because the quietly clever boy that went into the system left a steaming wreck, not entirely dissimilar to what happens when one stuffs a large pile of meat into a wood chipper. With a persistent thirst for power and success, Nicolae was capable of meeting and exceeding expectations in training, his native wit kept him both amusing by way of humor and seemingly obedient by way of impassioned oaths to the government and 'the greater good'; He might have been capable of gaining the status he was so desperately encouraged to obtain if only it weren't for the continued fraying of his psyche. For all his apathy and apparent devotion to the government, absolute insanity and independent drive was doubly created and stuffed into the deeper crevices of his mind. As the government took note of his increasingly violent tendencies it became very obvious that he was simply not meant for display or control, the decision to leave the young man far away from the light of day seemed the only rational one; Having him working constantly on a farm, in the barracks or among factory workers would be asking for a massacre. The Nag's den ended up being his near-permanent home, situated on the bottom level of a refinery. The speakeasy provided a steady stream of undesirable citizens seeking a safe place to speak, drink, smoke and brawl while only channeling a limited number of pedestrians at any given time. Over time they seemed to simply forget him there, allowing Nicolae to persist as the working barman, supervised only by the disinterested son of a local governor who served little purpose other than to sit casually at the back of the bar and cast an occasional glance to make sure no one's been drowned in a bowl of peanuts.__________________________
Extra:Theme/s:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3HcESERdGG4 Black Eyes by Radical Face
