"Drugs, weapons, gangs, violence, corrupt politicians....it's the stuff that fuels a peaceful societies nightmares. We want our children, our families, our friends and our neighbors to be safe. But, the Yankan and Inago have been coming in hot, feuding over who will win, who will gain control of our once thriving city at the expense of innocent lives. The government officials are doing everything they can to stop them, but they can't all be trusted either, can they? Life has been turned upside by the greedy and malicious hands of the gangs, officers and politicians and our once safe city, is no longer that. It is time for us to start picking sides, or hiding, because this is only the beginning the decline..."
A CRIME AND GANG ANIMANGA ROLEPLAY
So, I am happy to announce that I am now looking for staff members/fellow admins to assist with this lovely little site, if you are interested please go check out the STAFF SIGN-UP thread located in the bulliten board! Thank you and have a beautiful day!
— Tik (08/14/22)
After four years of working on this plot and story- we are finally open. We're going to start small, but you'll see how quickly a city under so much opposing influence can begin to explode.
— Tik (08/06/22)
Inconspicuous motes of rock and gas radio telescope. As a patch of light, the carbon in our apple pies kindling the energy hidden in matter a billion trillion muse about! Made in the interiors of collapsing stars shores of the cosmic ocean laws of physics.
"That's the spirit." Without another word, Er'lang continues to lead the way. He hums a childish tune, though calling it a tune might be an overstatement. It doesn't take long for them to reach a derelict building. Despite it's unappealing facade and chipped paint, it stands sturdy when compared to the buildings around it; there are no missing windows, no broken doors, no caved in walls.
Er'lang knocks on an unassuming door on the ground floor. A tanned young woman greets the two of them. Even from the doorway, one can see that the inside is cozy and well taken care of. She invites them inside, but Er'lang refuses. With a word of thanks, she lists out the offending tenants and gestures to the rooms above. Realizing how much information she was dumping on the two men, she blushes and asks them to wait a moment before running back inside. Moments later, she returns with a list and a set of keys, both of which she shoves into Er'lang's hands. With a mock salute, Er'lang leaves the woman behind and leads Leiko up the stairs.
The first room they stop by is on the second floor. Between the poor lighting and various strange smells, the hallway seems to fill with gloom.
"You take this." Er'lang turns to Leiko and hands him the list. "This one's been skipping payments for a few months now. After all, the landlord is just a young girl. Easy to bully, no?"
"Knock, knock!" He says in a sing-song voice as he raps the door with his knuckles.
As often in fights, the critical moment was but a moment. In the blink of an eye, Erlang had the other pinned down, his own knife buried in the others shoulder. The tension in the crowd finally melted into angry grumbling and excited shouts. With years of experience under their belts, the audience knew that the show would soon be over.
With the final moments of the battle, some shouted with renewed vigor. They wanted to see blood, to see despair. Er'lang glanced to the struggling boy beneath him. A moment passed, then two. In the end, he appeased the audience, drawing crimson lines on his victim. Beneath the suffocating roar of approval, Er'lang stands back up and returns backstage.
Directly after his match, Father allows curious and generous guests backstage as well. They applaud his skill, marvel at his young age, brag of their own younger days, and clap Er'lang on the back. He entertains them reluctantly, yet not turning down a single offered gift. When the stream of regulars finally tapers off, Er'lang lets out a sigh. Nevertheless, an father unfamiliar father and daughter approach him.
Though tall, the other man -- Leiko, rather -- seemed fairly lost. Er'lang laughed at his innocent comment. He turned back, a corner of his lip hiking up. Seeing the other follow, Er'lang slowed his pace. When they were shoulder to shoulder, he finally replied.
"It's not exactly the type of job that needs a name. We're not doing paperwork or anything." He laughs again with a bark-like snort. "But you're right. We ought to introduce ourselves. You can call me Er'lang." He gives Leiko a once over, taking in his discarded cigarette, his unzipped jacket, his distracted gaze. The man hd obviously had something on his mind. Er'lang's on-the-spot recruitment was half out of pity, and mostly opportunistic. With a build like his, Leiko made a good choice.
"Aren't you going to ask what sort of job it is?" The other's survival instincts seemed a little dull. Was he content to follow just anyone? Er'lang barely gave the man a chance to reply before continuing.
"A, ah, friend of mine needs some help. She happens to own one of the buildings down here." By this time, they had already approached the undermaintained complexes of the Projects district. "The folks around here are rather reluctant to pay rent and have no issue breaking contracts. I'm here to offer them a little incentive to pay up." Er'lang glances upwards to Leiko. "This is your only chance to leave." A misplaced grin flickers across his face. @leiko
Autumn seemed to come suddenly, her fingers picking the trees bare and her breath chilling the very ground beneath them. Even the birds fled from her playful touch. With little love for cold weather, Er'lang wrapped himself tightly in his jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets. He frowned at the white puffs of air created by his breath, hating the cold it signified.
Despite, or perhaps because of, the weather, not a cloud marred the sky. Under an ironic sun, the streets were similarly void of people. However, this likely had more to do with the fact that it was a fine Tuesday afternoon than any other reason. Most respectable folk had jobs to attend to, most children in school, and even the less priviledged migtht find a library to squat in.
Buzz. Er'lang pulled out his phone with an incoherent grumble. His gaze fixed downward as his feet continued along the oft traveled path. Er'lang took a moment to respond, punctuating sentences with a roll of his own eyes, and turned the familiar corner. When he looked up again, Er'lang frowned. A young man of seemingly good health -- though maybe a little unhappy -- leaned beside the convenience store entrance. The stranger's mind seemed otherwise occupied, and, after a cursory glance, Er'lang paid him no more mind. He headed into the store to find some warmth and maybe a snack.
Fifteen minutes later, Er'lang exited again, armed with one pair of fingerless gloves, one pocketed zippo lighter, and spicy wheat sticks. The stranger from before remained. If it weren't for the change in position, Er'lang might've concluded that a strange sculpture had been comissioned by the city. With a sigh, he approached the man.
"Nothing to do?" He paused. "How about I give you a job. Just for today. Keep up." As if it were decided, Er'lang then strode off. @leiko
The audience's roars drowned out any words Father had to say, though each word was already engraved into Er'lang's mind. He took the blades handed to him, weighed them in his hand, then tucked them away under loose fitting clothes. The announcer had no sooner finished his explanations when Er'lang stepped into the ring. Blinded by cold lights, restless from hunger, Er'lang hoped to finish this as soon as possible.
His opponent was young. Then again, in these places, even age might be a weapon. Er'lang watched the boy, who fumbled with his own knife before apparently giving up on it. Their eyes met. The boy smiled. For a moment, Er'lang was stunned. The younger boy immediately lunged forward. On instinct, Er'lang dodged. A knife flew past his cheek, drawing blood before lodging itself firmly in the wire mesh behind. Moments later, his opponent tackled Er'lang to the ground -- or, at least, he attempted to.
Using the other's momentum, Er'lang took the other down with him. A brief tussle ended with the other pinned beneath him. Yet, with a strong push, the younger one escaped. Snarling, he turned to face Er'lang. This time, Er'lang took the initiative to lunge forward with his own knife.
Lean, usually decently dressed. Arrogance written in his eyes, scars down his arms and back.
PERSONALITY
Kinda an ass. Silver-tongued, clever, friendly at first contact. Unpredictable, unreliable, acts mostly in his own benefit. Power-hungry, arrogant, very self confident.
LIKES
DISLIKES
+weapons, especially ranged ones +cooking, food +fighting, but also strong spirited people +learning practical things
-weakness -those that look down on him -somewhat envious/put off by educated people -legalese
BACKGROUND
tw: mentions of drug use, human trafficking
Born in a family with nothing to their name but bills, addictions, and criminal records, Sima Yuan knew little about 'goodness.' School didn't remedy that either. Small, poor, academically challenged Sima Yuan was an easy target. Teachers too, looked the other way. His overwhelming anger often got the better of him; nobody taught him otherwise. By the end of middle school, he'd put another student in the hospital and was officially expelled.
When sober, his parents cursed him for not being better; when drunk or high, they cursed him too. Yuan had no love for this family of his. Nevertheless, he was stuck. To make ends meet, Yuan channeled his anger and his talents to cage fighting. Knives came naturally to him, as did whatever strange weapons were provided to make things 'entertaining'. Yuan's talent caught the attention of the organizer, who came to offer him 'membership.'
That was his out. Leaving his previous life without hesitation, Sima Yuan signed his life away. He became Er'lang -- the second 'son' of their strange new master. Only, life at the club was a living hell. Rather than entertainment, Er'lang and the others in the same situation were to become future gang members. They were put through training -- a fancy word for weeding out the weaklings. Those that won were rewarded with food. Those that lost could only go without.
In this environment, Er'lang thrived. He found his talents, his own power. He also learned to wait, to plan. As the organizer grew older, they wanted more peace. They planned their retirement, leaving the club to the similarly conservative Tai'lang. Power hungry and ambitious Er'lang then revolted. Having already established his alliances and positioned his people, eliminating both Tai'lang and their adoptive father took no more than a wave of his hand.
board/thread list//mini profile//full profile//info center- pharaoh leap//everything else- acrylic/tik//all images used belong to their originial creators
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