Backwater [OOC/Open]

[Sarejo]

OOC | IC

Co-OPs
None yet.

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A Pub Sponsored RP
Theme Song

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Frasier County, Alabama, 2012.

A body is discovered on the edge of a summer camp at Lake Omago, rattling the sleepy town of Metwood. However even a sleepy town has its share of nightmares, and Metwood is no exception.

You are a part of a task force from the Sheriff's Office investigating the murder, delving into the dark secrets that not even many locals know.

Backwater is a True Detective-inspired RP set in fictional Frasier County, Alabama, a county with a small population, mostly centered in the county seat of Metwood. A county known for its remote peacefulness, Frasier County is a place where everyone knows everyone else, and any secrets are very closely guarded from prying eyes. This is the first murder in the county in over thirty years, and in fact, there's little crime anywhere in the county, so much so that the Frasier County Sheriff's Office is the only law enforcement agency in the county, and many of its deputies are not used to the rigors of policing, used to just breaking up bar brawls and reprimanding teenagers who sneak alcohol or go joyriding in their dad's truck.

1: OP has final say. No exceptions. 2: OP reserves the right to deny any application deemed not acceptable. 3: No God-modding or Meta-gaming. 4: No directly controlling another player character or faction unless given permission to do so. You can freely control any and all NPC’s that are not central to any major plotline. 5: Posts must be a paragraph minimum. One-liners are highly discouraged. 6: Try to use correct grammar, and no walls of text that are not broken up into paragraphs. 7: Be courteous to one another in the OOC. Feel free to be as much of a dick in the IC as you desire. 8: Be active should you apply. No need to be online 24/7 (as I certainly will not be) but don’t go through the effort of joining and never post anything. If you will be gone for any significant amount of time please leave a message stating that you will be gone. Those who do not risk having their characters killed off. 9: You character cannot be overpowered. Your character can die and every challenge should be just that, a challenge. Any overpowered characters will bring forth the wrath of the OP in the form of even worse obstacles and outcomes. 10: Have fun.

Code: Select all [b]NS Nation Name:[/b] [b]Character Name:[/b] [b]Appearance (Direct Link Preferred):[/b] [b]Age:[/b] (Must be at least 21) [b]Sex:[/b] [b]Positive Traits:[/b] (Required) [b]Negative Traits:[/b] (Required, Must Balance Out Positive Traits) [b]Biography:[/b] (At least 2 good paragraphs) [b]RP Samples (2 Required or a good bio):[/b]

NS Nation Name: Sarejo Character Name: Paul Harrison Appearance (Direct Link Preferred): Paul Harrison Age: 53 Sex: Male Positive Traits: Smart, honest, caring. Negative Traits: Lack of self-confidence, aloof, pessimistic. Biography: Paul Harrison has been around for a long time, serving Frasier County as a peace officer for well over thirty years. He has been sheriff of the county for the past fourteen years, and is planning on running again for a final term in two years. Sheriff Harrison began his career as a lowly deputy, in 1980, and was quickly promoted to "detective" in the sheriff's office, although the job was more of a title then just as it is now, with the office only employing a total of eighteen deputies and a sheriff for the whole county. However, just two years after he joined the office, in the summer of 1982, Harrison got caught up in the whirlwind investigation of the death of two young women, Susan Harader and Louise Tanner. The two had just recently graduated high school and were going off to college in the fall. Their bodies were dismembered, found on the shore of Lake Omago, a popular swimming site in the county and the site of the county's only summer camp, and were displayed in an almost ritualistic pattern. Outside of both being prospective college freshmen, they had nothing in common. Different hair colors, eye colors, heights, interests, and even personalities, according to friends and family members. The two weren't even known as being friends or even acquaintances, and were both part of different social groups. Harrison, as the county's sole detective, was given the task of investigating the brutal murders, however the trail quickly ran cold due to a lack of clues or any distinguishable pattern, and his superiors seemed particularly interested in sweeping the whole thing under the rug, as was the rest of the county, it seemed. Harrison tried as best he could to build a case, but as quickly as the buzz had started, it ended within just weeks of the murders. Formerly cooperative interviewees refused to talk, and both families moved away within months of the murders. Eventually the case was labeled as "cold", and tucked into the depths of the archives, never to be opened again. Behind the scenes, the whole incident was scrubbed. Newspaper clippings disappeared, case files improperly stored to encourage damage or misplacement, and the whole county was encouraged to forget the incident, which they seemed all too happy to do. Harrison played along with his bosses, not let in on the secrets behind the scenes, but he always wondered about the truth. The older he's gotten, the more the unsolved murders haunt him, and he's taunted in his dreams by the bloodied and bruised faces of the two girls he's now convinced he failed, and because of this he has a severe lack of self-confidence, has drawn away from family and friends in recent years, and has maintained an air of skeptical pessimism in nearly every aspect of his work, which has now spilt over into his personal life. RP Samples: Fallout: The Mont; Lost Souls

[Sarejo]

Frasier County Sheriff's Office
Sheriff Paul Harrison - Sarejo
Chief Deputy Owen Eriksen - Recon
Deputy Jennifer Haley - The Knockout Gun Gals
Deputy Colton Bellamy - Rodez
Deputy Dale Karlsson - Darksworth

[Sarejo]

Reserved

[Cylarn]

I'll throw up an app. Are department transfers okay?

[Sarejo]

I'll throw up an app. Are department transfers okay?

Sure, but part of the atmosphere of the RP is going to be "cops who never did more than escort a drunk guy home or reprimand a joyriding teenager are now supposed to investigate a copycat murder," so don't plan on being Sherlock Holmes.

[Rodez]

Tag. So you strictly want police officers or are other townspeople okay?

[Recon]

Tag.

[Sarejo]

Tag. So you strictly want police officers or are other townspeople okay?

Would be highly preferred that you're law enforcement, yes.

[Hashkin]

Tag

[Cylarn]

NS Nation Name: "No."
Character Name: "Name's Sam, Sam Baldwin. Actually, I'm Sam Baldwin Jr., but I don't use the 'JR' too often."
Appearance:
Age: "Just turned thirty-two, in fact."
Sex:

Positive Traits: (Required)
Negative Traits: (Required, Must Balance Out Positive Traits)

Biography:

Here in Frazier County, the name "Sam Baldwin," or that of any member of the Baldwin clan, is synonymous with the introduction of meth into south-central Alabama. My mom's family, the Clearies of the Blue Ridge, ain't much better. Hell, my mom and dad met when my dad was driving up his first batch to Ashe County, in North Carolina. I guess she liked bad boys, because he apparently drove up those mountains in a Trans-Am, with a Saturday Night Special tucked into his jeans and five grams of coke in the glove box. Both of 'em were addicts; still are, I guess. Wouldn't really know, given I burned bridges with them when I was sixteen.

I knew from an early age that I didn't much care for being like my parents, so I looked up to other people as parental figures. My parents were all about physical and mental abuse, especially if they were drunk or high. They cooked in the trailer we all lived in; thus, I was exposed to a lot of anhydrous ammonia that's caused me some problems here and there. Don't ask me how I don't have asthma, but the doc says that I should expect some serious stuff as I get older, especially if I don't drop smoking. Anyways, I learned not to hurry on home, and instead go to my grandfather's place, out on the swamp. Hunted, fished, listened to him play the guitar or talk about France, North Africa, or Korea. Also watched him brew his own shine, but...I can confirm that he's stopped it, considering he's dead.

There was also Paul - Sheriff Harrison. I knew him before he was the Sheriff, back when he was a detective focusing on kicking meth out of the county. I met him the first time in '96; he caught me swiping a forty-ounce from the corner store and spent ten minutes bringing forth the fury of God in order to scare me straight. Sure, he scared my ass good. Did I stop drinking, or smoking grass? Did I stop getting into fights, or stop stealing? Nope, nope, nope, and nope. However, after all was said, he drove me to my grandfather's, and we talked. What got me was that he listened. Most adults wouldn't listen to me, much less the cops. But Harrison, he listened.

The future Sheriff pushed me through school and made it a point to check in on me, make sure I was doing my work. I mean, who else would?
Anyways, it all paid off; I got accepted to Georgia Tech. To put more distance between myself and my family, I chose to go the Criminal Justice route; figured that by doing the opposite of my parents, I was doing right. In those four years - or the next eight - I didn't once set foot in Alabama. I lived in Atlanta and did quite well for myself. I wouldn't see Atlanta as a dark place until later, but during my college days, I had it all. Good professors who wanted me to succeed, girlfriends who happened to all be D-1 athletes, a bunch of friends who saw me as "the guy,"
and so much more.

Positive reinforcement is a powerful thing; I learned that early on from Paul Harrison. In a positive environment like Georgia Tech, I flourished.
I graduated in not four years, but three-point-five. A Bachelor's in Criminal Justice, with a Minor in Sociology. I wrote all my shit about the thing I knew best; childhoods in Meth Country. My thesis, in both of my final dissertations in CJ and Soc, was about how the opportunistic, dynamic,
violent drug culture of the Deep South would lead to a generation of young people affected heavily by the problems of drug use. A lot of the kids I went to school with have lost everything to something that you can pay - depending on who you talk to - $30 a gram. Not only that, but they've got legal problems and a plethora of mental health problems.

I got out and applied for the Atlanta PD, which unlike joining the Frasier County Sheriff's Office, was not controversial in the slightest. I was just one of about eighty recruits in my class. Training was tough; everything I did had to fall in line with the book verbatim, I had to work out every single day, and basically just go through "The Suck." Boy, did it suck? I tell you, the first day we hit the mats for combatives, I got my left arm dislocated when I tried to put our instructor in an arm bar. Yeah...don't pop a cop in the face. It took me some time to fall in line with the cop way of doing things, but after somewhere around eighteen or twenty-four weeks, I was a sworn Atlanta Police Officer.

Zone 1 was where I got put, and I guess it's a suitable place as any for a green patrolman to start out at. I learned quick from my FTO; I learned that the book's not always right. I learned that the only two things to trust out on the street were my gut and the guy backing me up. Now, I went in all "white knight" - for the first couple of weeks. I'd see guys dealing dope on the corner and pull up, get into a scuffle or a chase. At the time, I never realized how close I was to getting myself killed in a back alley somewhere. I came close; a bunch of knives and pieces got pulled on me, but with one thing or another, I came out on top and I'd kick back with the boys afterwards, sipping a beer and laughing about everything.

I stopped laughing at the close of my first year, when Officer Maliya Jackson bit the dust. She was a friend of mine from GT; we'd gone through the Academy together and we'd cut our teeth in Zone 1. Smart woman; she grew up around English Avenue and knew about every Joe on the corner by their first names. If she was on the scene, I knew to let her talk. Hell, we'd even started fucking about halfway through our FTO phase. So, you can guess how I felt when I heard "10-18; shots fired!" blaring through my radio, in her voice. It was dark that night, raining too,
but I was speeding down English, lights on and siren at full. Thirty minutes before my Watch ended. I saw her car, just parked on the side of the road with her lights on and driver-side door opened. Those were her numbers on the back; my heart dropped. I jumped out, M&P in my right hand,my flashlight in the other, and a bad feeling stirring in my chest.

I heard a loud crack as I was creeping over to her car, and it felt like getting hit with a ball-peen in the chest. Thank Jim Christ for vests; Ballistics dug out a .45 ACP slug from the plate. I fell and hit the ground hard, on my back, struggling to breathe, but despite that I was still able to recognize the two additional cracks as gunshots, and to notice them tear into the asphalt. I kept my pistol clutched tightly in my right hand, but I dropped my torch when I rolled for cover behind the front of Maliya's cruiser. Doctrine tells you that the engine block and wheel wells can stop a bullet better than about anything, so I wagered for that spot. I braved the water and laid down, seeing a collection of feet moving near me. There were more cracks, in quicker succession. The cruiser was getting eaten up; my torch got shot to pieces before I could even consider grabbing it. I held out my piece and blind-fired four rounds. I heard them scatter for cover.

I figured that they were gonna try and flank me, so I keyed my radio to ask for assistance. I heard no response back - didn't know at the time, but I had broken my radio when I hit the ground - but that was the least of my problems when I saw a bright-red streak shatter the driver-side door mirror. It was a tracer, but don't press me on how I was able to guestimate where the shooter was firing. I don't remember comprehending much as those bullets flew; I snapped in the direction of where that tracer was fired from, and just as three more slammed through the glass, I crouched up and fired four rounds, this time firing the gun like I was trained. I don't remember hearing a scream or anything, but I saw some shadows moving in my left peripheral. I snapped immediately, fired two more rounds, and I - without thinking much of it - broke from the car, firing four more times in transit before taking cover behind the brick wall of some Section 8 housing.

Their shadows moved, reflecting on the bright domes cast by the street lights and the building lights. I leaned out of cover, flagged my gun at the figures and the bright flashes that were centered on them, opened up with the rest of my mag. I threw myself back behind cover and hastily emptied the spent mag, dropped it, grabbed a fresh one, dropped it in the mud, picked it up, and charged it without cleaning it. Didn't matter much, I guess, because I found myself leaving cover and advancing forward when I heard more sirens coming. That gave me a real confidence boost, enough to charge out and start firing to disperse my attackers.

I caught one of them right off the bat. A tall Salvadorean motherfucker, dressed in a long white t-shirt and toting a cheap-ass Norinco AK ripoff. His body was diagonal; I mean his left shoulder was facing me, enough so that he was a thinner target. I squared up as I moved to put the cruiser between myself and the hoods, drifting to the left and passing by the passenger side as my knees stayed bent for a half-crouch. I popped off three rounds while I continued moving; my piece stayed leveled at the target, and my eyes focused on the fella. I saw him drop down, and I shifted targets.

The next round I caught that night unfortunately didn't catch my vest. I felt a hard blow on my left shoulder. It was a 7.62 Russian - thank Jim Christ that I didn't take a hollowpoint. I still feel that after-burn - I'd call them "body echoes" - in my shoulder from time to time. My body twisted back and I dropped to my right knee. I didn't feel any pain; it's not odd for the body to move its blood inward, so that trauma is mitigated. Couple that with adrenaline and outrage and fear and testosterone making me drunk for violence, so I was good. The immediate area lit up bright with flashing red and blood. Even with my ears ringing from a shit-ton of deafening gunfire, I could hear the sirens roaring when the hoods got surrounded by three cruisers. The Cavalry rode into the fray.

What happened to Maliya? They found her laying out in an abandoned, overgrown lot, with the top of her head blown clean-off by a shotgun. I took it hard, harder than I should've. It turned out that she was roped into some bad shit, like "taking crack from the lockup and selling it on the streets" - bad. I didn't know if she had done this out of coercion, or to make money for her folks. Maybe she was just another opportunist out there on the street. Point is, though, I stopped getting cocky. I walked out of a shootout alive, with one hood dead and two others hospitalized;
one of those guys is paralyzed from the neck-down. Fucker deserved it, for all I care. They gave me a Bravery Citation and a police-equivalent of the Purple Heart.

Yeah, so I finished up that year with Patrol and copped my entry into a multi-agency task force running interdiction on I-85. It was us, the Sheriffs, Troopers. We stayed in close contact with the DEA and ATF, as well as the Troopers in North and South Carolina. Interdiction sounds like a cool gig, right? Tense traffic stops and car chases 24/7. Personally, I found I-85 to be more hospitable than Zone 1. I got to drive around, listen to Outlaw Country, and - of course - play it like a Trooper and pull people over for minor offenses. I looked for out-of-state plates heading north, specifically anything north of Georgia. Guns were heading north, and drugs were heading south. I did good with presence; not being a hardass unless someone gave me a reason. Voluntary consents are how I got most of my seizures. I never busted anything more than fifteen pounds of heroin or twenty select-fire AKs. Had some car chases, a standoff or two, but that came with the job.

Now, you might be wanting to know how an up-and-coming Atlanta cop found himself back in his hometown, a place that he considers to be beneath him. It all goes back to my grandfather, who was still living in that same farmhouse in the same swampy bughole that he'd been raised in. I got word from Ashley. She's one of the nurses in town; someone I knew from high school, someone I knew I could trust. Besides, I hadn't talked to anyone from home in quite a few years. I was young and ready to leave Metwood and Frasier County, too impatient to think about the few people I trusted there. Ashley was the first person to tell me that my grandfather had passed away. He had a stroke while driving down the road, crashed his old '70 Chevy into a telephone pole.

I took that news hard, hard enough to get kicked out of a bar the night I found out. My vacation time got pulled so that I could be there for the funeral. I knew the faces I'd see when I got home, and how I'd have to deal with the barrage of shit that would surely be launched at me. The day of the funeral, I saw my parents and made damn sure to stay away from them. We traded glares all through the service, up until I was the only one left in the whole church, save for my grandfather. I took a few minutes to say some private words and then I left the undertakers to do their job. I wasn't but halfway out the door when another familiar face stopped me.

Sheriff Harrison and I were nowhere near the gaggle of meth-heads standing outside the church. It was truly good to see him. We shook hands,
I caught him up to speed on what was going on in my life, and we joked on about some of the folks from back in the day. Things hardly change in Frasier - except for the fact that Harrison was short a deputy. One of the "dinosaurs" had retired, and he was having trouble filling the spot.
Paul never said it outright, but I caught on that he hoped I'd make an inquiry. I didn't - not until I found out that my dearly departed grandfather had bequeathed me his old farmhouse, and sixty acres of prime land among the infertile swamp. Not only that, but aside from a few war buddies and close friends, I was the only Baldwin to receive anything from Tommy Baldwin.

I fought myself that night; the decision had to be made. Ultimately, I chose the family homestead over Atlanta. I put in my notice to the PD and asked for a lateral transfer to the Frasier County Sheriff's Office. Harrison called me hours later to confirm that he had received my records from Atlanta, and that I had the job. He gave me two weeks to settle my accounts and move back to Metwood. The guys threw me a farewell party, one that I can hardly remember. It really, really sucked to leave Atlanta, but in the end, I found myself immersed in fixing up my new property. So far, I've got an acre-sized field for growing blackberries. Primarily, I'm growing fruit. I sell it to a distributor for some health food stores, that market "eco-friendly" fruit. It's given me a new hobby, and put more cash in my wallet.

RP Samples:

Still being worked on.

[Recon]

NS Nation Name: Recon
Character Name: Owen Eriksen
Appearance:

Age: 44
Sex: Male
Positive Traits: Friendly, hard worker and team orientated.
Negative Traits: Emotional, unimaginative and looking forward to retirement.

Biography: Owen Eriksen has lived in Fraiser Country for much of his life. He was raised not in Metwood but down by Lake Omago. His father was a fisherman – mostly bass- and that’s what Owen grew up doing and he developed a love for it. He attended the local high school, played on the sports teams, but he never shined. The Football team needed a kicker, he would do it, and he also played a little tight end. He just enjoyed the comradery of it, the togetherness of the team, but there was no future in it.

If he wasn’t playing for one team or another, he spent the rest of his summers –and most of his weekends - helping his father down at the lake and a few other fishing spots. The business made a profit, but much of that was eaten up by Owen and his siblings. He is the second of five. So money was always tight. When it came time to graduate, he had not put too much thought into what career he wanted. He had no burning ambition to be a lawyer or doctor. He expected he would go into the family business and help out as he had done before. But being a second son, there wasn’t space for him in the business. Owen took it well, he understood. His eldest brother James, was already helping out as were the younger ones.

So he looked further afield. Unsurprisingly there were not many opportunities in Fraiser County, some restaurant or bar work in the summer, but otherwise it was dull, low skilled work. It was the thought of spending the next forty years working in a factory, which spurred him to join the army. He signed up at 19. He was eventually assigned to the 82nd Airborne, army life suited him. He got to see a bit of the world, he was well looked after. He had a purpose in life. He served in Panama and Iraq, but if you are looking for heroics and medals, then Owen isn’t your man. He did his part, but there was no glory, no commendations. In fact, if you were to ask Owen about his service, he would probably fondly bring up being part of the clean up after Hurricane Andrew, he is more proud of that, helping people in South Florida than anything he did in battle. Oh and his wife got him a skydiving trip for his 40th, so that was a nice reminder of the old days.

Speaking about his wife, there was a girl – there always is – Lillian. He had been much too shy to date her in high school but they reconnected when he was in the army. Everyone else had a sweetheart, so he had lied and without her knowing it, a friendly pen pal had become a girlfriend. Lillian in fact helped him get this job. It was in one of their regular letters than she mentioned the sheriff’s department were planning on hiring. The news came at a good time for Owen. It was the mid-1990s and the army was downsizing, so he served to the end of his enlistment and came out. Fraiser County hadn’t changed much in those six years, Lillian had. She had graduated from Alabama State and was a teacher at the high school, she still is. They got together then. His military service was a definite plus for the local department, so in the space of a year or so, he had a wife, a house and a career.

The next chapter of his life has been much less exciting but happier for Owen. The job is dependable and it was a boon when he was told that the State of Alabama counted his military service as qualifying years to his pension. He has a daughter, Amelia who attends the high school and he and Lillian already have plans for her to go off to college, after she graduates. So what to say of life now? He has served nearly eighteen years in the department, add that to his six in the army and he is getting close to his twenty five. So he has security at least.

His brother (not James, one of the younger ones) has a successful bait shop. So his mind has been turning towards, doing a few more years in the force then retiring. He has always enjoyed going out on the lake. Owen thinks it could be something of a working retirement, helping out in the bait shop or showing tourists around on the lake. He is happy to take anyone out on the lake if they show an interest. The work isn’t bad. He gets on well with his fellow deputies and he knows pretty much everyone in town, through his job, the high school or the church. He tries to keep on good terms with everyone, if someone hasn’t paid their child support or has drank a little too much, he will try to pass on a word of warning. If you need a favour or want to borrow his boat? No problem. He likes to look after the people in his town and that is how he sees the role of the police. Community policing, you would think if you watched TV they had forgotten all about it. The Community part anyway, but Owen hasn’t and he tries to treat people with respect. If someone needed a lift from the bus stop at night, they need some medications delivered or perhaps they were going out of town for a few weeks then Owen would promise to check in on the house from time to time. To him policing is a job, whatever he has seen that day, a bad car accident, a suicide; he tries his best to forget it at the end of the day. As he tells himself, there are only a few more years to go.

RP Samples: Game of Thrones;
Gotham Central

[Rodez]

NS Nation Name: Rodez
Character Name: Colton Bellamy
Appearance (Direct Link Preferred): Colton
Age: 29
Sex: Male

Positive Traits: Thorough, Hardworking, Adaptable
Negative Traits: Abrasive/ill-tempered, Paranoid

Biography: Colton was born in Dunlap, Tennessee, in 1983, the third of four children. His father was a history teacher at the local high school and his mother, a homemaker and part-time nurse. The Bellamy family was a stable one and Colton was raised in a happy household by parents who encouraged him to meet his full potential. Although he was only ever a B student, Colton shined on the baseball diamond and stayed out of serious trouble.

Sadly, the same could not be said of his older brother Kenneth. The older Bellamy brother was into drugs from junior high on, and was a full participant in the 1990's crime wave. With poor grades and poorer employment prospects, Kenneth entered a downward spiral which ended when he attached himself to a local drug-running gang in Eastern Tennessee.

However, Kenneth's undoing was also his family's doom. It was not long, perhaps only a year, before Kenneth was not only a wanted man, known to the police, but also seriously in debt to his criminal partners. He fled back to Dunlap and was able to convince Mr. and Mrs. Bellamy that he was done with "that life" and was turning a new leaf. They agreed to let him stay for a week, at most. After that he was on his own again.

But it only took a week for Kenneth's enemies to track him down. On Saturday, August 2nd, 1997, at approximately 7:15 PM, two shooters opened up on the Bellamy household while they were sitting down for dinner. Kenneth and Colton's older sister Erica were both killed. Colton himself, along with his mother, were both seriously injured in the shooting. Only last-minute hospital procedures saved their lives.

That day shattered Colton's family and changed his trajectory forever. The Bellamys sent their surviving children, Colton and Kaitlyn, away south to Frasier County, where they would live with their Uncle Terry, the town doctor, and Aunt Julia. Colton would finish his last three years of high school in Metwood, and seemed to do better with a clean slate and new faces. And yet Colton had changed. Gone was the happy-go-lucky boy who ran around with girls in the north Alabama woods. Afterwards he was guarded, harshly critical, and sometimes borderline hostile for apparently little reason.

He continued to star in baseball, and earned a full ride scholarship to Auburn his senior year. At one time he had wanted to be a lawyer, or even see how far his skill as a pitcher might take him, but by the time he graduated high school his path was set: Colton would be a police officer. He never, ever wanted to have to face something like what happened in 1997 again, and swore to himself that he would place himself on the side of the law.

And yet . . after graduating Auburn with a degree in Criminal Justice, his instructors at Alabama Law Enforcement would privately remark that Colton seemed to want to be a police officer for the wrong reasons: to hurt bad people who did bad things, rather than necessarily uphold the law. But Colton passed through training with admirable enough marks that he was commissioned as a State Trooper in 2005.

It's not as if that was that was the end of things. One of Colton's first assignments was as part of an anti-gang task force in Birmingham. Colton was put under the now-infamous Detective Brett McEwan.

When questions started to be asked regarding McEwan's extremely deliberate pace, Colton did some casual investigating of his own and discovered that his immediate superior was, of all things, actually on the take of the very gangs they were supposed to be cracking down on. A dirty cop.

So perhaps it was no surprise that Colton found himself caught in a vicious ambush mere days after relaying the disturbing evidence to authorities in Birmingham. Gunman opened fire from three positions while Colton and his partner Deputy Charlie Carpenter were out on patrol. The gunfight lasted approximately three minutes before backup arrived; when the smoke clea[url][/url]red, Carpenter and four gangsters were dead. Police promptly apprehended McEwan, who was convicted and sits in prison to this day.

But for a newly minted officer fresh out of the academy, the whole experience was a little too much. Colton retreated further into his abrasive personality and developed moderate paranoia as a result of the incident. A few months later, he found himself walking out on the State Troopers. For about a year, Colton was either waiting tables, working gas stations, or doing other assorted odd jobs around Metwood and Frasier County. But soon enough, his Uncle Terry reminded him of the promise he had made; and Colton applied for a job at the county's Deputy office. Soon enough he was recredentialed, recycled through training and commissioned as a Frasier County Deputy. He has been on the job for the past four years, but often struggles to build trust with his coworkers or the townspeople because of his personality and reputation. Still, despite himself, Colton wants to keep Frasier County safe.

RP Samples: Elder Scrolls: Aftermath
Sol 2250

[Sarejo]

NS Nation Name: Recon
Character Name: Owen Eriksen
Appearance:

(Image)

Age: 44
Sex: Male
Positive Traits: Friendly, hard worker and team orientated.
Negative Traits: Emotional, unimaginative and looking forward to retirement.

Biography: Owen Eriksen has lived in Fraiser Country for much of his life. He was raised not in Metwood but down by Lake Omago. His father was a fisherman – mostly bass- and that’s what Owen grew up doing and he developed a love for it. He attended the local high school, played on the sports teams, but he never shined. The Football team needed a kicker, he would do it, and he also played a little tight end. He just enjoyed the comradery of it, the togetherness of the team, but there was no future in it.

If he wasn’t playing for one team or another, he spent the rest of his summers –and most of his weekends - helping his father down at the lake and a few other fishing spots. The business made a profit, but much of that was eaten up by Owen and his siblings. He is the second of five. So money was always tight. When it came time to graduate, he had not put too much thought into what career he wanted. He had no burning ambition to be a lawyer or doctor. He expected he would go into the family business and help out as he had done before. But being a second son, there wasn’t space for him in the business. Owen took it well, he understood. His eldest brother James, was already helping out as were the younger ones.

So he looked further afield. Unsurprisingly there were not many opportunities in Fraiser County, some restaurant or bar work in the summer, but otherwise it was dull, low skilled work. It was the thought of spending the next forty years working in a factory, which spurred him to join the army. He signed up at 19. He was eventually assigned to the 82nd Airborne, army life suited him. He got to see a bit of the world, he was well looked after. He had a purpose in life. He served in Panama and Iraq, but if you are looking for heroics and medals, then Owen isn’t your man. He did his part, but there was no glory, no commendations. In fact, if you were to ask Owen about his service, he would probably fondly bring up being part of the clean up after Hurricane Andrew, he is more proud of that, helping people in South Florida than anything he did in battle. Oh and his wife got him a skydiving trip for his 40th, so that was a nice reminder of the old days.

Speaking about his wife, there was a girl – there always is – Lillian. He had been much too shy to date her in high school but they reconnected when he was in the army. Everyone else had a sweetheart, so he had lied and without her knowing it, a friendly pen pal had become a girlfriend. Lillian in fact helped him get this job. It was in one of their regular letters than she mentioned the sheriff’s department were planning on hiring. The news came at a good time for Owen. It was the mid-1990s and the army was downsizing, so he served to the end of his enlistment and came out. Fraiser County hadn’t changed much in those six years, Lillian had. She had graduated from Alabama State and was a teacher at the high school, she still is. They got together then. His military service was a definite plus for the local department, so in the space of a year or so, he had a wife, a house and a career.

The next chapter of his life has been much less exciting but happier for Owen. The job is dependable and it was a boon when he was told that the State of Alabama counted his military service as qualifying years to his pension. He has a daughter, Amelia who attends the high school and he and Lillian already have plans for her to go off to college, after she graduates. So what to say of life now? He has served nearly eighteen years in the department, add that to his six in the army and he is getting close to his twenty five. So he has security at least.

His brother (not James, one of the younger ones) has a successful bait shop. So his mind has been turning towards, doing a few more years in the force then retiring. He has always enjoyed going out on the lake. Owen thinks it could be something of a working retirement, helping out in the bait shop or showing tourists around on the lake. He is happy to take anyone out on the lake if they show an interest. The work isn’t bad. He gets on well with his fellow deputies and he knows pretty much everyone in town, through his job, the high school or the church. He tries to keep on good terms with everyone, if someone hasn’t paid their child support or has drank a little too much, he will try to pass on a word of warning. If you need a favour or want to borrow his boat? No problem. He likes to look after the people in his town and that is how he sees the role of the police. Community policing, you would think if you watched TV they had forgotten all about it. The Community part anyway, but Owen hasn’t and he tries to treat people with respect. If someone needed a lift from the bus stop at night, they need some medications delivered or perhaps they were going out of town for a few weeks then Owen would promise to check in on the house from time to time. To him policing is a job, whatever he has seen that day, a bad car accident, a suicide; he tries his best to forget it at the end of the day. As he tells himself, there are only a few more years to go.

RP Samples: Game of Thrones;
Gotham Central

Accepted.

[The Knockout Gun Gals]

I don't see why no tag of me.

[The Knockout Gun Gals]

NS Nation Name: The Knockout Gun Gals
Character Name: Jennifer Haley
Appearance (Direct Link Preferred):

Age: 28
Sex: Female

Positive Traits: Idealist, determined, and loyal.
Negative Traits: Naïve, obsessive.

Biography:

Born in Fraiser County, Jennifer's family has been in the county for generations, though basically it boiled down from 1930s. Her great-grandfather was an Army officer, and although military is generally speaking not part of Fraiser County since its small size, it was a kind of thing they had as a family. Her grandfather died young, though he already bore her father, died of a drunk accident. Her father, meanwhile, was an entrepreneur of some kind, invested and worked on electronic-based businesses. Fraiser County was far too small for his businesses, so when Jennifer was 10, her father went to Los Angeles to expanded his businesses. Los Angeles was unkind to him, but he prevailed, though it took a while for him to prevailed and grew successfully.

Jennifer was 17 when she graduated from the high school, a year younger but considering she entered high school at a younger age it's a justified reason. Looking back at the businesses of her father who was acquired by Apple, though it gave her father more money for the family. Her father ended up opening a restaurant, seafood-style. Jobs in the County aren't necessarily exciting, mostly day-to-day jobs. Law enforcement seems to be the best next opportunity, but with Fraiser County's small size, it seemed it wasn't the best for her start. She got the job once finished the state law enforcement academy, in Alabama Department of Public Safety. Though she worked at the state, her performances has been indicated as rather average. She's definitely flawed in her obsessive thirst in investigation, no matter how good her determination is. Drive License Examination was her division and even she declared it was pretty much a fill-in for her experiences.

She was 26 when she returned to Fraiser County, her background as an officer in Alabama state proved to be a problem since the sheriff department has that mixed feelings on her. On one hand, few younger officers are eager and willing to work with someone with a background in the state law enforcement, but some other thought she is too uptight and cocky because of that same background. Nevertheless, she stood it all, and in two years most negative receptions had been extinguished except for some.
RP Samples (2 Required or a good bio):

viewtopic.php?p=32666520#p32666520
viewtopic.php?p=32649511#p32649511

[The Valyria Empire]

Tag, I think I’ll go with the “fresh out of the academy” character. That way we have a character with little to no experience.

[The Knockout Gun Gals]

App finished, pending review.

[Sarejo]

NS Nation Name: The Knockout Gun Gals
Character Name: Jennifer Haley
Appearance (Direct Link Preferred):

(Image)

Age: 28
Sex: Female

Positive Traits: Idealist, determined, and loyal.
Negative Traits: Naïve, obsessive.

Biography:

Born in Fraiser County, Jennifer's family has been in the county for generations, though basically it boiled down from 1930s. Her great-grandfather was an Army officer, and although military is generally speaking not part of Fraiser County since its small size, it was a kind of thing they had as a family. Her grandfather died young, though he already bore her father, died of a drunk accident. Her father, meanwhile, was an entrepreneur of some kind, invested and worked on electronic-based businesses. Fraiser County was far too small for his businesses, so when Jennifer was 10, her father went to Los Angeles to expanded his businesses. Los Angeles was unkind to him, but he prevailed, though it took a while for him to prevailed and grew successfully.

Jennifer was 17 when she graduated from the high school, a year younger but considering she entered high school at a younger age it's a justified reason. Looking back at the businesses of her father who was acquired by Apple, though it gave her father more money for the family. Her father ended up opening a restaurant, seafood-style. Jobs in the County aren't necessarily exciting, mostly day-to-day jobs. Law enforcement seems to be the best next opportunity, but with Fraiser County's small size, it seemed it wasn't the best for her start. She got the job once finished the state law enforcement academy, in Alabama Department of Public Safety. Though she worked at the state, her performances has been indicated as rather average. She's definitely flawed in her obsessive thirst in investigation, no matter how good her determination is. Drive License Examination was her division and even she declared it was pretty much a fill-in for her experiences.

She was 26 when she returned to Fraiser County, her background as an officer in Alabama state proved to be a problem since the sheriff department has that mixed feelings on her. On one hand, few younger officers are eager and willing to work with someone with a background in the state law enforcement, but some other thought she is too uptight and cocky because of that same background. Nevertheless, she stood it all, and in two years most negative receptions had been extinguished except for some.
RP Samples (2 Required or a good bio):

viewtopic.php?p=32666520#p32666520
viewtopic.php?p=32649511#p32649511

Acceptado. Would like if everyone else tagging/posting WiP apps would, ya know, finish them

[Recon]

[color=#red]Acceptado[/color]. Would like if everyone else tagging/posting WiP apps would, ya know, finish them

So when Sam Baldwin, Colton Bellamy and Valyira’s character are all completed, we can start! I love the premise. It sounds very interesting, so I am looking forward to it!

[Sarejo]

[color=#red]Acceptado[/color]. Would like if everyone else tagging/posting WiP apps would, ya know, finish them

So when Sam Baldwin, Colton Bellamy and Valyira’s character are all completed, we can start! I love the premise. It sounds very interesting, so I am looking forward to it!

Would be nice! I've had this on the burner for a while, developing it, so I hope it doesn't crash and burn immediately

[Recon]

So when Sam Baldwin, Colton Bellamy and Valyira’s character are all completed, we can start! I love the premise. It sounds very interesting, so I am looking forward to it!

Would be nice! I've had this on the burner for a while, developing it, so I hope it doesn't crash and burn immediately

I am sure it won't! Too many great ideas get lots of initial enthusiasm and then fade away. So with your commitment and ours, this should be a long term thread!

[Sarejo]

We get one or two more apps, I'll put up the IC.

[The Valyria Empire]

We get one or two more apps, I'll put up the IC.

Been busy lately, I’ll try to have it either tonight or tomorrow.

[Rodez]

edit: done and awaiting review

[Talchyon]

Tag. Looks very interesting.