Once Upon a Time in Oxbow Parish (OOC; NOW OPEN TO ALL)

[Ontorisa]

God Cy,

Lemme speak some French.

[Recon]

(HEBERT, E.T.)

+++Name: "My birth name is Eugene Thomas Hebert. Eugene after the four Popes and two Saints. Thomas after my Grandfather and Hebert? That’s just a piece of paper honestly. People here have called me a Bedard from birth. The name Hebert means little in Oxbow Parish, either you are a Bedard or a Faubert, so it may not be my name, but I am a Bedard. To my parents, uncles and grandmother, I am Eugene, to everyone else, I prefer Gene".

+++Age: "I turned 18 a few months past. I`m finally a man, even if everyone still treats me as a kid".

+++Gender: Male

+++Physical appearance: "About 180cm so not a giant, but still growing. I would say about 150-155 pounds, lean but i'm still in good shape from playing football. I really like my dark brown hair as it matches my eyes".

+++Identifying Marks: "A oxidised French silver medal, on which Saint Christopher is depicted on one side, carrying a child on his shoulder. On the other side is an inscription in French. I always wear it on a necklace".

+++Ethnicity: "Acadian not Cajun, I don’t really know the difference, but my Grandmother has always been certain about that".

+++Religion: "Roman Catholic. I was raised with the faith, studying the bible, Sunday school, altar boy, the works. It was inescapable, just part of routine life. After mother got shot, her faith grew and mine faded. Hearing at Mass, the regular teachings of forgiveness and turning the other cheek just seemed further and further from reality. At that stage, I was hoping for a little more old testament, fire and brimstone, instead we got words of forgiveness. Still, I always remember to wear the silver Saint Christopher’s medal, my mother bought it for me when I got my first car. It helps her sleep easier at night. On the medal is the saying, “Regarde St Christophe et va-t-en rassuré”.

+++Birthplace: "The Medical Centre in South Palmyra. My mother used to always mention it when we passed it by. It was annoying, just a little habit, a little game reminding me where I came from. I sort of miss it now. After the shooting, we tend not to speak of the Medical Centre, it brings up bad memories".

+++Criminal History: "No criminal record. I have been caught doing some childish stuff, breaking windows, filling my car up with gas without paying for it. I`m probably suspected of a bit more. The worst I have been caught for was driving a stolen car, but no charges were filed".

+++Military History: "None. I was lucky the draft ended well before I turned 18. I don’t know how my uncles did it. The structure, the orders, the boredom and having your life controlled? And what exactly are you risking your life for? There’s no way, I would follow in their footsteps, not willingly anyway".

+++Psychological analysis: “Family is important to me. We have always been close and still are. I always got on well with grand-pére and still do with grand-mére. I could never understand why my uncles abandoned the family. All I have is good memories as a kid, staying over at the big house, grand-mére baked Pets de sœur at Christmas, grand-pére Tom would teach me how to hunt, how to fish, how to survive out in the back woods. I miss him, a lot changed when he died. I get on with my parents probably a little better than the average kid. Both my parents know me well and know what works for me and what doesn’t. When I am working at the store, my pére is happy to let me get on with it, he doesn’t stand over my shoulder checking on me, he knows I work much better on my own. My mére and I always have had a good relationship, I was a shy child and I used to be almost mute, I wouldn’t speak to anyone I didn’t know, if I was going anywhere, I wanted my mére to come with me. As you grow up, you lose a bit of that closeness, but after she got shot, we stayed at the critical care center with her for days. Obviously that was a big moment, just with a phone call, all our lives were changed”.

“I am a pretty relaxed person; I try not to get too worked up over a problem. I try not to let anything or anyone matter to me too much. I try not to worry about the future. That’s why I tend to keep people at a bit of an arm’s reach, everyone is compartmentalised, my friends, my work, my family, I try not to mix them. I am a good person to meet, cheerful, positive, optimistic, but I keep you at a safe distance. I don’t open up to many people, perhaps only my parents honestly, and even to them I keep my secrets. Doesn’t everyone? Who wants to share everything? What’s the fun in that?”

"The other person I really trust is my cousin Diane May, who really is Ma Sœur. My parents basically treated her like the daughter they never had. Until my Uncle got married, I was the youngest Bedard for the longest time, the baby of the family. As an only child, it definitely got lonely, there were friends, but friends went home at night. After the shooting, I was left almost alone, no one wanted to expose their kids to that kind of environment. And it doesn’t matter how nice your parents are, you’ll get tired of them after a while. Diane was the only one, out of all the family, we saw regularly. She would come around for a meal, a night or even a few nights. Then she would be gone again, we wouldn’t see her for a while and then one morning, I would come down for breakfast and find her sitting at the kitchen table.

I was too little at the time to really understand what was going on. I just thought, I was special, that Diane came to visit me. I suppose it was true, wherever she went, she would always come back and after catching up with my mother, she would sit with me and tell me stories of what she had seen and done. It was always upbeat and positive, very different to my life back then. Diane always put on the best spin on things and always tried to make it exciting. I was an easy audience; I wasn’t enjoying school, so I would sit there hoping her stories would take me somewhere else. Everyone else moved away, they looked out for themselves. Diane didn’t, she kept coming back. Even when she went to college in New Orleans, she was home most weekends. She was the coolest person then, living in the big city, going to college and still remembered who I was".

"I was 13 when Diane returned from College. Old enough to begin noticing things. She was distracted, dark circles would appear under her eyes, sometimes she would grow quiet if I asked too many questions, we would just sit there chewing gum together. A couple of times, I wouldn’t see her for weeks at a time. Then she would reappear and be her old happy self again. I learned what worked and what didn’t, I learned not to interrupt and to just let her talk; I didn’t want her to disappear again, I wanted the old Diane back. My grandfather was already ill; my father was a wreck, so her stories and happiness were in dire need. From that point on, I was her shadow, listening to her wise cracks and weird jokes and following her all over the store. Over time, Diane grew further and further apart from what she once was, but I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t have too; there was always a flicker of her old self. Just enough to keep me believing that she would turn it all around. I still do."

“Speaking of secrets, the trips over to North Palmyra is probably still a secret. I think uncle Robert hasn’t told my parents, at least not yet. He probably doesn’t have the heart to disappoint my mother. Honestly I cannot stand doing nothing, I must keep myself busy. Diane would appear so alive when she spoke about her little adventures. I just wanted to feel a little of that. So on those nights the bridge is open, I love going over to the North side and causing problems. Nothing too major, just to keep myself amused. A bit of vandalism, burglaries and I’ve stolen a few cars, just for fun, a bit of excitement. Hoping you’d be chased, just for the thrill of it. I love seeing what I can get away with, what tales I can make of my own and to see just how far I can push it. Why be the petit-garçon of Tom Bedard, if you aren’t going to make use of it?”

"Finally, my mére has told me again and again, I am too stubborn. I just cannot stand someone trying to change me or trying to force my hand. The only part of High School I enjoyed was football. I couldn’t handle all the pointless repetitive drills. So perhaps with a little Bedard favouritism – I wasn’t the tallest or the strongest –I became the Quarterback. The coach sort of left me to it – again favouritism. But it was perfect for me, I enjoyed learning how to defeat the defence, I loved improvising, scrambling and holding onto the ball, risking a sack, just for a second longer to make the bigger play. But there were negatives, I was as stubborn then as I am now, so if the other team tried to take away the run, I`d keep handing the ball off, no matter what play the coach called. If they tried to take away a certain receiver, I would force him the ball. Why? Just to screw with them, I`d keep firing it in there. As you can guess, we didn’t win any championships”.

+++Alignment: "I am a Bedard through and through. As the son of Loic Hebert and Lily-Anne Bedard. The Grandson of Tom and Arlena Bedard. I can trace my line all the way back to France. I am not especially close with all the family, but I do look up to my cousin Diane, she’s pretty much my big sister at this point".

+++Occupation: "After I finished school, I just naturally started working at the store. My parents were not going to let me sit around and vegetate. I already spent enough evenings and weekends there, so we just made it official. I keep my father company, run errands and try to learn a bit about the business. My father is happy to have me there and it's easier than working at the Timber Mill".

+++Biography: “Growing up in Oxbow Parish, it meant something to be Bedard. I didn’t know it as a child. I was as oblivious as any other. It was in school when I began to notice a difference. I wasn’t a Bedard by birth, but that was what I was called. In school there was a clear separation between North and South Palmyran kids. Not every child was involved, but enough were. Eventually I began to realise, I had a target on my back, because of my grandfather and his businesses. As I grew older, it led to more and more fights, more and more detentions, naturally I was going to stand up for my grandfather and my family.

None of it helped my love of learning. I began to dread Sunday evenings and the looming return of school. It didn’t help that I just hated the structure, the repetitiveness and the boredom. I would come up with illnesses, colds, aches and pains just to miss school. But always my mother knew and I would have the morning off and then have to return for the afternoon.

I was just getting back to elementary school after the summer of the Moon Landing, when Hurricane Camille hit. We all went up to the big house, hunkered down in the basement and waited it out. Grandfather Tom prepared well, he had lived through a few previous storms so he knew what to expect. All huddled together, we just had to sit there and wait it out, just listening to the radio and making up little games to pass the time. The house took a bit of a beating; I could feel it shaking in the wind. That next morning, when we all came out, it was a beautiful day; the sun was shining. One of the guest houses was flooded when the Bayou Laforge flooded much of the surrounding land. But no one was killed, none of the family anyway. My Grandfather started immediately on getting back to work and got a big chunk of state funds to profit off the rebuilding of the town. I got a extra week off school, so it wasn’t all bad.

I was ten when my mother got shot and I missed a lot of school then. My father and I stayed at the hospital, I didn’t want to leave and my father didn’t have the heart to tell me to go. My mother took it better than I did. She is a tough woman, it wasn’t immediate or easy but she learned how to adapt, how to prosper in her life. I didn’t. It just filled me with anger and rage. Instead of fighting when I had too, when I returned to school I went after the Faubert’s kids and those who worked for them. I didn’t win every fight, but it made me feel better to give a little back of what my mother had suffered. From that point on, I was just waiting for school to end. My parents still talk about College, like the fisherman wiggling his bait and waiting for a bite, but it doesn’t hold any allure for me.

The shooting changed my father too. Loic Hubert always had a big personality. Chair of the local Chamber of Commerce, layman at the church and a local celebrity. He was happy to raise money for anything, equipment for the school sports teams or whichever programs the priest was organising for that year. Basically any excuse to get in the newspaper or on TV. My father had to be part of it, he had an art for showmanship, and he built a giant sign for the store and claimed it was “Louisiana’s biggest”. It was all part of his act, as a salesman and as a man. Most nights he would be out drinking somewhere in Palmyra, North or South did not matter to him. He kept away from all the bad blood; he believed he was a businessman first and foremost, that a dollar was bigger than a little feuding. After the shooting that changed and he retreated into a shell. We only travelled across the bridge for Church. My father spent more time at home and became a quieter man; he doesn't even watch the news or read the local paper anymore. The sign has rusted over and he’s stepped down from the Chamber of Commerce, his life now is his family and the store. Anything outside of that, he doesn’t want to know.

It was around the time of the shooting, my uncles began to return, as if they had suddenly remembered they had a family. They returned as if nothing had changed. I heard about the Faubert girl, she got involved in some accident or so it was reported on the news. But I knew better, that was my family’s idea of justice, snatching up some girl and taking an eye for an eye. To me that was a start, but that is where it ended. My grandfather was a living legend, my uncle Roland there had always been rumours about his time over in Vietnam, what he was involved in. Yet despite all this, they stopped short. The men who had shot her? Nothing, I kept checking the news, but there was nothing. The whole family even my grandfather seemed to bury it and move on. I couldn’t let it go, all that talk about family, about hating the Faubert's and the men who had crippled my mother, they got to enjoy their lives?

So I got involved with a few minor incidents. You spend long enough in South Palmyra and you begin to think people in the North have a second head or something. There just is something different about those folks. As I got older, especially after the shooting, it began to escalate, throwing eggs at cars, petty vandalism, stealing gas from the Exxon station. I found I was good under pressure, in fact I enjoyed it. With a few friends from school we would wait outside the Tiger Club at closing time, when the drunks all staggered out, one of us would slip onto the back seat of a car. Lying there, desperately hoping to remain hidden. Suppressing your laughter, trying not to think about what you were going to do. You would wait until the car hit Main Street, as soon as the driver accelerated you would pop up in the back seat screaming. It would give those drunk guys a heart attack, the worst I saw, was a guy losing control and totalling his car into a brick wall. We would all be standing there laughing. We were nearly caught a few times, but we always made it across the bridge, back to safety.

After the North Palmyra police put a car on the bridge a few nights a week, I had to wait longer between my little trips. Then came my mistake I was taking a stolen car back to South Palmyra, speeding, trashing it, just for fun. I heard a cruiser behind me, flashing lights and everything. I pulled over, my uncle was Chief of Police, why wouldn’t I? Uncle Robert – another one who talks about family, but returned only after my mother’s shooting – tried to give me the speech about stealing being wrong. I had spent years working at my father’s store, I knew about the “deliveries” and where they really came from. When that didn’t work, he tried the old “Scared straight” method. First a few hours of sitting in the cells, then after being caught a few more times, it was a full night, but I was released early enough so I could make it home for breakfast. None of it worked, it just made me more determined to carry on, to prove nothing worked, if I stopped after one of my uncle’s interventions, it would just prove him right wouldn’t it?

I work full time at the store now. It isn’t demanding work. Two weeks after my 18th birthday, I took my car over to New Orleans and bought a handgun. It was the one time in my life, my birth name worked for me. Even in a city like New Orleans, in the right circles the name Bedard was known. But Hebert? It was one of the most common names in Louisiana. Eugene Thomas Hebert buying a gun? Didn’t raise even an eyebrow. Eugene Thomas Bedard may have. I brought it back and waited. I waited for one of my uncles or my parents to speak to me about it, they didn’t. My mother’s cousin Rick was there that night, but he would never tell me which of the Faubert’s did it. I was a kid then and to all of them, I still am. But I`ll find out, it’s a small town and people talk, when I know for sure, I`ll do what my family couldn’t. I`ve taken to leaving it on the seat next to me as I drive around North Palmyra some nights, just waiting for that perfect moment.

You might see me around town, I am pretty well known because I work in my father's store. I`m usually doing a few errands in a 1970, Chevy Nova four-door sedan, it was my mother’s and she passed it onto me. She’s couldn’t use it after the shooting, so it sat in a garage for years. My dad and I got it running again and now I use it as my own".

+++RP Sample:
The Benthic Zone
Trail to Hell: Perdition
Gotham Central

#ItWillBeDone (DO NOT REMOVE)

Location Application

• Name: Herbert’s Discount Center
  
• Location: South Palmyra.
  
• Type of Location: A old fashioned general store which has over time changed into a large discount store selling a variety of products. It is a rare bright spot for the locals, as frequently expensive products including jewellery, furniture and electronics are sold at deeply discounted prices. The locals are all too aware, that products purchased here are likely stolen, but as the South Palmyra police turn a blind eye, there is no chance of their purchases being seized. So it is always busy, when one of Loic Hebert's "deliveries" arrives. Its motto is “Herbert’s has that”.*
  
  The store has seen better days. It's giant elecronic sign, has long since rusted over. Loic is frequently asked, when he will modernise the store and repair the sign, but he always puts it off. The last thing he desires, is for the store or himself to attract any more attention.
  
  *The name was anglicised from Hebert’s to Herbert’s.
  
  
• Revenue: The store has operated as a legitimate business from the time of Loic and Lily-Anne's marriage. The business has a very profitable side-line in stolen goods. It provides a legal income for the family, legal employment, a business to launder dirty money through and a small bonus to the people of South Palmyra. After all who in Oxbow Parish has $800 spare to spend on a new VHS player?

[Hastur]

I'm waiting on Rud to post the head, but I'm probably going to attempt to get something up for the Fauberts.

[Kentucky Fried Land]

I'm the same, I've got a Bedard betraying the family coming up soon.

[Cylarn]

Welcome aboard, Recon!

[The Vaktovian Empire]

Always enjoy myself a good crime-induced Cy RP, props to you on this one my friend!

[Dahyan]

This looks amazing, definitely interested. Just wondering: are there any substantial difference between the families in terms of background, underlying philosophy or specific crime they dabble in?

[Cylarn]

This looks amazing, definitely interested. Just wondering: are there any substantial difference between the families in terms of background, underlying philosophy or specific crime they dabble in?

Generally, the differences are rather small to most who look in; two Bayou-based Cajun crime families, that dabble and compete in a lot of the same fields. Those specific fields pertain to things as mundane to crime as protection rackets and bootlegging, to niche things such as poaching and contract-killing. Running illegal entertainment venues, such as animal bouts or drink houses, would also be a profitable venue. I took some inspiration from the Dixie Mafia, as well as from general takes on organized crime.

When it comes to specific family influences, I wanted to have less of a general "this is what it is" background of the family, and really put it into the hands of the players. Rudaslavia should be completing his app for Old Man Faubert anytime now; he is known to go above and beyond with lore.

Philosophy-wise, the families at large seek to keep their businesses going, to maintain their hold on their respective towns, and to impede the other whenever possible. Of course, that is influenced heavily by the personal character and proclivities of the family members.

[Dahyan]

Thanks, I'll read up on the accepted applications so far and see where I could fit a character in. I'm probably going to wait and see Rudaslavia's Faubet patriarch before I decide on my application.

[The Vaktovian Empire]

(SWITZER, T.J)

+++Name: Thomas James Switzer, Nicknames include Tom, Tee, and Switz
+++Age:Twenty-Nine, DOB: August 21st, 1950
+++Gender: Male
+++Physical appearance: HT: 6’2” WT: 210 lbs | Thomas by physical standards is of the almost purely ideal body weight to height ratio, or BMI. He stands at an impressive six feet, two inches, more than four inches taller than the typical average American white male in 1980 (around 5’10”) He is slender, not incredibly bulky or large in terms of muscle size, but his muscle mass as well, proportionate to his body are ideal especially considering his career field.
+++Identifying Marks: There is a simple black heart tattooed on the dorsal side (rear) of his right wrist approximately 1 in. by 1 in. in addition to a rosary with cross tattooed on his left shoulder which takes up the majority of his arm central to his torso, if viewed from the left.

+++Ethnicity: Mother: Third generation Louisiana Frenchwoman originating out of Palmyra , Father: Austrian, Swiss, English (your ideal mutt) originating out of Pennsylvania.
+++Religion: Devout Roman Catholic
+++Birthplace: North Palmyra, Louisiana
+++Criminal History: No criminal background on file, although several trivial misdemeanor offences were admitted to by Thomas prior to receiving employment within the Orleans Parish Sheriff’s Office in 1972.
+++Military History:
1970-1971 United States Army | Despite having a valid deferment and studying in a field deemed “essential” which both would have made himself an exception to being drafted, decided to complete the required 1 year of service of any Vietnam-deployed draftee. Upon completing basic training with high praise from drill instructors and senior training staff, commissioned as a First Lieutenant within the United States Army Military Police due to already possessing an associate’s degree in the desired field of criminology
Honorably discharged September 1971 after multiple posts on base in Vietnam and seeing limited combat action in cases of invasion and outpost security.

+++Psychological analysis: “When my father backed the claimed that somehow, someway I could change the world when I was not nearly even in Secondary School, I never in a million years thought the two subjects in that sentence, ‘me’ and ‘the world’ would be thoroughly reversed.”

“I became a police officer because I wanted to make a difference for good and to protect and serve. Your typical gung-ho theatrics of wanting to have some sort of meaning in life. A purpose to be described. Growing up in Palmyra there were certainly a couple names I can think of, Officers who I looked up to. I thought all along that law enforcement would be such a black and white job. Hell that’s what you learned in post-secondary school, and the military training for MP, and gosh Police Academy for sure.”

“Now, my mind runs rampant. I can’t keep looking over my shoulder, but why should I? Ultimately, I started doing what they expected of me, rather than what I expected of myself. Never in a million years did I think things would've gotten this bad down here in the Parish. Not in a million years. Like I said, growing up the job seems so simple. It's anything but."

"But, I did as told. How couldn't I? Mom and Pop had done their best to get me a fresh start out of the Bayou, I was working in the upper regions of New Orleans, for the Sheriff's Office. You handled your own stock of shit and vile stench up there, and there were certainly hands that could've used washing no doubt. But never like this."

"I do what I do now, and with the Chief giving me high praise so often, for better or for worse. At this point, it seems trivial than to think of doing otherwise. I used to wear my heart on my sleeve, and with my badge firmly over my heart, as is its customary symbolism pinned on ones' own left breast pocket-area of their uniform. It's gotten so customary to me of doing what is expected of me, versus what I expect of myself, I don't even think of it anymore. Turn a blind eye here, harass an area where you know the Bedards' goons typically hang out in some of the more poorly lit areas of downtown."

"At the end of the day, I try and be as fair and just as possible. Whatever that definition could now be distinguished as, taking into account most parts of my job I have to weigh out how it will affect how the Chief sees me, as any good Police Officer does, but more so how the Fauberts and their top patsies will. Will I get a handshake and smile at Duvet's for busting that bookie that everybody's been complaining about, but facilitating up until he went South, literally and metaphorically speaking, or will I get disapproving glances in Church on Sunday cause I encouraged one of my guys to cite that speeder, only to find out he's somehow married into one of the Fauberts top enforcers."

"Either way, a couple things are clear to me at this point. I've gotten over the sense of watching my back on this job. I'm in the right 100% of the time to this point within North Palmyra, and I've gotten a good grasp on who I can actually do my job with, in terms of citizens, and who I should stay clear of levying any sort of citations or charges against. If it keeps me safe, my fiancee safe, and my family safe in town, I've rationalized certain more "morally questionable" acts and misdoings I've come to within my career thus far. The job does in some ways grant us diplomatic immunity between "jurisdictions" you could call it. I have no problem stopping in for a bite to eat at the Grill, wondering who's watching me and going to report on my actions. The badge gives me that extra sense of security, and I feel its extended to my family. As much as both Departments are thoroughly enveloped and engaged within all of the criminal acts occurring in Palmyra between the two families, one way or another. At the end of the day we're all Police Officers. Can't say I'm buddies with any of the guys on the other side of the bridge, but I also can't convince myself to say I'd help them in a life or death predicament, being a Bedard-backer or not."

"It's certainly got my head spinning still to this day. How I ended up here. How I threw half of my goals and aspirations to achieve true justice out the window. Certainly Nam wasn't doing justice for anyone. At the end of the day, what were we even doing over there? Stopping the spread of Communism? Some of the lesser well liked units and guys over there had done unspeakable things to some of the women. I can't say I would ever be able to look my beautiful honeybun the same coming home, if I had succumbed to doing the vile shit they dipped their hand in. Actually pulled a couple of guys out of some establishments and stuff before they could go that far. Those were the best times. Achieving true justice. Now, it's a see-saw and rollercoaster of emotion and trauma all wrapped up into one. You still have to worry about the common criminal who will gun you down if you catch him doing something that's more than your average petty crime. But then there's the fact these families downright want to kill eachother, although it's been that way for years. Like I said, never thought it'd get this bad, but I limit where I play my hand in it. I've played my hand in enough that when a couple of the older fellas went and collected their social security and retirement pensions, Chief saw fit to appoint me as Sergeant. We've got a more seasoned guy who runs things at night all by his lonesome. I'm constantly picking up wherever I want to pick up time served. That is one thing I will admit to, the Chief gets me overtime wherever I see fit to put pen to paper for it, in order to bulk my money. Got a baby on the way. I've got to do what's expected of me, maybe that's what truly I should've expected from myself this entire time. Fall in line. That's just what we were taught in Nam."

"I wouldn't call myself a sheep but I wouldn't call myself a leader either. I've been able to distinguish the two. The two other guys we've got are no more older than my youngest brother, and not even close to me in age. Couple of youngins. They know what's going on too. They're none-too innocent themselves in all of this. I can't rationalize to say that makes it morally right to dip my hand in the pot, as I've said I've done many a time now to have been able to achieve my rank in the pecking order, second only to the Chief of the North Palmyra Police Department, and his secretary-that-is, but if I can keep these boys from getting so tangled up in a mess they bark up the wrong tree with a Bedard, even if its in our territory, and make sure that by the time I'm ready to retire like the boys I replaced none-too-long ago, then that helps me sleep at night a little less restless than when I toss and turn from this stomach-wrenching stuff."

"I'm a Christian man, I'm a Catholic man, I'm a family man. I'm a police officer, a cop, a constable at heart. I've convinced myself that anything I do here that could be considered dereliction of duty in other departments can be morally abstained because of the risk I would take from not divulging in it. The only person who really gets it is my fiancee. I don't bother to tell mom and pop all the ins and outs of how hard the job is. Black and white. There was always a certain section about that grey area. In Palmyra, that grey area is a couple acres wide compared to the truck-length of that black and white. The thin blue line. Our courage and sacrifice to protect the American people. The line we walk so that others don't have to. In Palmyra, the two sides cross all the time and we're right there to divulge in both sides, those just and corrupt almost constantly.

+++Alignment: Faubert Family, they heavily influence and control the North Palmyra Police Department and as such, Thomas is one of the top Administrative pieces to the Department second the Chief, so he is exposed to and involved in like-it or not with a large portion of the corruption within the Police Department that the Fauberts have them play a hand in, as well as help to keep under wraps from Federal and State investigations.

+++Occupation: Sergeant, North Palmyra Police Department, while Thomas doesn't morally condone most of the operations he turns a blind eye to, or the tasks the Chief has him and his men undertake, such as any sort of raid or operation to eliminate Bedard influence in the Northern jurisdiction, he plays a signifigant hand in it and is directly involved in a large majority of the corruption surrounding the Police Department's role in keeping those criminally sanctioned in the North by and working for the Fauberts, and keeping those who would be allies of the Bedard's within eyes' reach.

+++Biography:
"Growing up in Palmyra, you knew who the rich kid in town was. Not having the luxury of being able to go to different schools, as there was the standard elementary school and then secondary school in Town. A lot of folk call Palmyra as a whole the "City" but that's really not the right terminology for lack of a better term. For an outsider I'm sure the size of Oxbow Parish throws them for a loop. We most certainly have a lot of dwellings, whether they be shacks and stilt houses on the shore-side, or very small homes on the more inland areas."

"Speaking of school, I was actually only a few grades behind Robert Yves Bedard himself, who know customarily wears the title of Police Chief of South Palmyra, which could be equivalent to 'Chief enforcer with a Badge for the Bedard family'. I didn't know him oh so well, but he came from the cream of the crop, one of the now only-two major timber companies in Oxbow Parish. He himself had been an officer in New Orleans from what I had heard over the years once I was back in Palmyra."

"Mom and Pop had Isabelle four years before me, and then David two years after me. Of course both of them never quite left Palmyra other than for school like I was able to, even if it was just for the year in Orleans Parish. Actually, not even a year. They laid me off due to budget cuts in November of 72' and I had gotten hired after attending the Academy in April. Isabelle is a waitress at Duvet's of course. Has been for the past four years now, she's still struggling to find her career, and I worry she never will, but the money definitely flows in on a night when there's entertainment at Duvet's, especially on the weekend. David, who fostered the name 'Jessie' by the end of the grammar school for whatever reason, did four years volunteer in the Marines. Psychologically I could to this day never explain to people how my kid brother had enlisted into the Marines just after his eighteenth birthday. I wouldn't say Jessie was a scholar, but he definitely held college-worthy marks in High School. In the end, I think it was partially him parrying off of me that lead him to that decision.

Mom and Pop were always the middle-class family that kept their nose out of trouble. In the past seventy years crime has admittedly run rampant in Oxbow Parish, although my parents had done good a job as any to make life seem normal. Like I said, I went to school with a Bedard, so life was anything but normal to me. I knew for a fact by the time I had graduated high school there was more to life than just simple trivial, customary living. Crime was fueling the place of which I had originated. I had never taken a liking to playing my hand in crime. Apart from a couple of petty thefts for frivolous items as a juvenile, of which I even had the decency to admit to when the detectives had interrogated me prior to hire in Orleans Parish, I was a clean slate. Few and far between, as I came to realize. Most of my buddies by twenty five had played their hand in some sort of criminal activity in Palmyra, and some had even gotten busted by the police. Up until my late teens I had always seen the police in North Palmyra, once it became divided from the South, as pure, kindhearted, honest individuals who upheld their oath to the Constitution. Once I graduated High School, I had become more and more desensitized, and the rumors and gossip you heard on some of even the most secret proceedings both elitist families were involved in were enough to tell me I needed to get the heck out of dodge for a while."

"My sister had attended Tulane, but I regarded it as far too local. I needed the ability to get out of town for a long while and as such opted to apply for Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge. Upon acceptance, I applied for a partial scholarship to which I was accepted, and granted $100 off of the grand total of my two year tuition costs; $265 and some odd for books among other entities. I had fashioned myself as a local rent-a-cop on campus, making some good side money in between full and part time statuses of enrollment between the years of 1968 and 1970. I had made a decent sum of money and met the love of my life, Rebecca Cumberbatch, who herself was much like my father; a mutt among those who were many still ethnically Southern-style. Maybe that was what of which had drawn me to her. Whatever the case was, we first started dating in the Summer of 69' and had moved into a small apartment in Baton Rouge by 1970 off campus. Upon completion of my Associate's Degree in Criminology and subsequent minor in Public Safety."

"In September of 1970, right as I was underway to go for a Bachelor's in Criminal Justice and Homeland Security, I received a draft notice, and rather than tip my cap for a deferment, and otherwise would have been excluded do to going into an essential service like law enforcement, I elected to accept the draft notice, and became a commissioned man due to the post-secondary credits and the Associates I had gained up to that point. I completed basic by October 1970 and achieved the rank of First Lieutenant with high praise from my drill instructors and subsequent trainers when I went to my trade school for Military Police. We shipped off to Nam by January, where I saw limited combat in mostly minor confrontations. I killed but a lone man in Vietnam, during a base defense of one of our outposts which one night during the hot summer months got ambushed. The weight I bared after that though, after taking a human life, sat with me for a long time. Even today I can think of the exact moment, gripping the M16 I had retrieved from the armory, being as how we only carried our sidearms on base, and firing three rounds one-by-one into the chest of the Vietcong soldier, who wasn't more than twenty-odd years old himself. I remember watching him die right in front of me. By the end of the war I wasn't really sure of why we had gone to Nam and fought that pointless war with them. So many good American men dead as well. In my eyes it seemed like it had been such a great loss of life without a clear and present purpose. They said 'peace, peace, peace' but when peace inevitably lost, the cries for protest following the war fell on def ears."

"When I returned home in September of 1971 after fulfilling my one year of required service for those who were drafted, my family threw me a party upon my return. My brother as I had learned from writing home every so often, had inevitably copied me, as he often had during our younger years; haircuts, interests, styles with clothes, by enlisting into the Marine Corps to fight over in Nam. I was so angry learning that, knowing he easily could've gotten a deferment for attending school, and then seeing some of the most unthinkable things in Nam and then rather hearing of even the more cruel and unusual ones. We had taken to arrest many of enlisted men in Nam for doing unthinkable things to some of the women over there. Some men in country even got into fights with locals, brutalized bars, or butchered men, women, and children alike during inspections, patrols, or city seizures. Nam had most certainly taken a toll on me, and I didn't want Jessie anywhere near it. He had enlisted shortly after I had, once he had turned 18, and then continued up until 1974, almost the end of the war. He completed two deployments to Nam with the Marines. He had come back and changed for the worst. The term jarhead never made so much sense to me after he returned, because he had been an incredibly bright, sophisticated intellectual growing up. By the time he got home, he was an able body with not much of an independent man's thought then to be told to see this, do that. He got into construction, and began working for a local handyman crew who went around building houses, and doing per diem work for businesses and fulfilling contracts for new housing projects."

"I sought employment outside of Palmyra, as I had no intention of going back to that polluted hellhole, much to the dismay and objection of both Mom and Pop. Isabelle I can remember had been doing a stint of administrative clerical work for the South Palmyra Medical Clinic at the time, and was still living at home. They wanted their firstborn son back, after not seeing him for almost four years. But in January of 1972 I set out to find work somewhere East, maybe even the New Orleans Police Department. Then reality hit me. I realized corruption ran rampant in every police department, even ones that weren't exclusively named Palmyra. Eventually I settled on the Orleans Parish Sheriff's Office, and completed their FTO phase after attending a general academy pre-hire just outside of New Orleans. My presence in the Military Police on my record did well for me going into the first few months on the job, and my first FTO was the gold standard of what I had envisioned myself to be as a police officer; fair, honest, impartial, truthful, consistent. Then came the FTOs to follow, many of which I even had witnessed would plant evidence on a stop depending on the demographic or the time of day, they'd entertain more presence in some areas than others, if only to get more favor from local shop owners who would give them "donations" and we would turn a blind eye to more than a handful of a number of different crimes. It was then I realized crime wasn't solely exclusive to Palmyra as I become opinionated over time it was such a terrible place to live, an exception to everywhere else. We had taken a stay in another mid-grade apartment, me and Becca, and were starting to save money in excess, me on the job in uniform, and her doing per diem nursing work, when I was laid off in Orleans."

"After suffering on unemployment from November of 1972 to January of 1973, I returned home to Palmyra, where Mom and Pop had informed me a position had recently opened up in the North's Police Department. I applied, and not surprisingly was appointed, having already an Associates Degree in criminology, and MP experience, but also prior experience, if only for half a year in Orleans Parish. I knew going into the job the corruption that it would involve, and the influence the Flauberts as a family would ultimately have over me. I kept my head down, and admittedly in the first few months tried to keep my nose completely clean. Then I saw how inevitably I'd have to start playing the game, if nothing more than this was my dream job, in my hometown, and I now needed to provide for my new family; me and Rebecca, and keep Mom and Pop free of any danger or reason for either major family to do them any harm. My folks had always been locals, not anywhere to be considered in the top tier elite. My mom had met Pop when he had been an up-and-coming lawyer in New Orleans, taking on civil cases as a defense attorney. She herself had been attending Tulane for a degree in the pharmaceuticals industry, a venture that never was finished because they had Isabelle shortly thereafter following the wedding. Mom now got her income from the crops she sold, as we maintained around 1.5 acres on our property. Mom had turned in her dream of becoming a pharmacist to raise us, and in turn, found her passion and hobby simultaneously by maintaining a huge garden of crops which became an efficient side business. Pop on the other hand, after marrying her, returned back to her hometown with her after having Bell, and took up a job at North Palmyra First Savings & Loan. His knowledge of civil law would translate well into knowing the ins and outs of banking and finance, and Pop was one of the brightest men I had ever had the pleasure of knowing so it's no question as to why he's one of the best bankers of the group there. That was one reason I had gotten the job. As much as Pop never liked to admit he had married into living in a crime-ridden Bayou town, and had kept me honest his whole life, I was certain he saw a ton of dirty money come across his desk or at the very least past his gaze."

"Over the years I succumbed more and more to the pressures of putting my personal feelings and morals to the side, in order to please the senior officers on the payroll, and the Chief as well. After the departure of the Sergeant in 1978, the Chief saw fit to promote me to the role, rather than the last Senior Patrolman on the payroll. He wasn't cut out for the administrative side of the job, and as much as I did dip my hand in the pot every so often, as sometimes it ended up even favoring me in the long run, I wasn't just a goon with a gunbelt and a shiny badge. My ability to be able to have my morals in the back of my head simultaneously with staying in line aided me greatly. I could find ways to cite certain people, or even give verbals or written warnings, while also making sure my procedure with the common criminal who was unaligned, or the petty burglar was at a top-tier standard, and my reports and investigations, as few and far between as they came for we turned a blind eye to most family matters, at least for the Fauberts, never left a stone unturned. The Chief loved it because not only did he look like his department was meeting local and state regulations and expectations, it made it easier then for the other guys to slack off, and be more geared to aide in deliberate sabotage of family efforts against the Bedards. I started to play my hand in the matters more and more, albeit not in line with my morals and the character I attributed to myself of having, nor that which Pop had inspired me to have long ago as a boy, but as I said, my ability to conform and go along with the play-by-play in a lot of the deterring ultimately brought gain to me in ways I didn't necessarily see as ethically immoral or corrupt. I never tried to directly move money, or try my hand in anything that could have a paper trail. But I would enforce in areas where the Bedards were known to have operations on our side of the bridge. It paid off in ways that I could rationalize. I never took money, even if we got it off a perp or in any situation, although I'm sure after I bagged it up as evidence the Chief would then dip his hand and use it to try increase our lackluster budget, or use it to his own personal gain. Whatever the case, it got Rebecca her nursing job at the North Palmyra General Practice in North Palmyra in 1978."

"As of recently, my fiancee became pregnant as of November of this past year, and I proposed on the 1st of the new year at the start of the new decade. My Mom almost killed me realizing I had intercourse prior to marriage, as all three of us were raised as Devout Catholics. But Belle had already been thru so many boyfriends over the years, mom kind of needed to give up that tradition that had run in the family up until our generation. I continue to play my hand in the corruption that is Palmyra as a whole now, while continuing to try and find ways to better us as a Police Department in the North. There is certainly open hostilities between the two major families, and undoubtedly and unfortunately, many locals like Mom and Pop get caught in the crossfire, having to be able to prove allegiance to one side or the other at some point in their time alive in Palmyra. I continue everyday to suffer with the moral conflict, but there are added benefits to at the very least seeming like I go above and beyond to enforce whatever agenda the Fauberts have in mind for the people of the North, and their enemies when they travel across the bridge. With a child on the way I now have a full family to protect and keep safe, and that means at the end of the day I continue on that endlessly running sea-saw of emotion, and balancing doing my duty to the best of my ability and staying true to my morals not only as a person, but as the Police Officer I was trained to be, while simultaneously aiding to enforce the agenda and goals of the Fauberts in one way or another. There's one thing for sure, I'm comfortable right where I am, if I was the Chief, there'd be too much pressure to dive nose first into becoming a full fledged patsy of the Fauberts and conforming to the criminal underworld that essentially controls Palmyra. Sergeant is enough for me. At least I can at some point in my eight to nine hours of tossing and turning say I have room to have some sort of moral responsibility and character in at even the smallest declining of percentage of my job that serves true justice to the common local citizen. 90% of people aren't criminals, they're just good people who make mistakes. We learn this at the Academy. The problem is, I on occasion allow myself to be a card in the Faubert hand of the deck that is the crime that runs society inconspicuously in Palmyra, if nothing more than to allow myself to actually enforce justice and peace in that other 90%."


+++RP Sample: Can provide if necessary, although I do believe in the distant past we've frequented many-a-time roleplays, most of which either your character/s or collective nation/entities foiled 90% of my agendas, plans, or schemes, and for that I in the most sarcastic way, thank you for your service as the foiler of most P2TM RPs of which we've crossed paths.

#ItWillBeDone (DO NOT REMOVE)

[The Vaktovian Empire]

Location Application

• Name: Centerview Commune
• Location: North Palmyra, not too far from the main drag in town
• Type of Location: Small Two Acre Property with one, three-story apartment building. Apartment access is externally, much like a hotel would be, and the property itself is built on stilts due to proximity to one of the low spots of the Bayou being adjacent as part of a small creek that flows past the property. Not widely known as a super profitable area of town, one of the only urban residental areas other than different housing communities as of recent which have popped up. Residence of Thomas Switzer and his fiancee as of currently.
• Revenue: Extremely dirty in nature, although the locals who aren't particularly aligned with the Flaubert family have slowly come to realize that it is the residence of the Sergeant of the Police Department, so they know days and times they should versus shouldn't do their business there. It's well rumored both prostitution and drugs frequent the apartments, as there are approximately 30-35 units and some are either vacant or being rented out by a private owner. The entire establishment is owned by wealthy real estate venture capitalist Henry Portenstein, who is a good friend of many members of the Flaubert family. As such, Portenstein is a mostly out-of-towner who frequents exotic places elsewhere on the Louisiana coast but leaves the property maintained by shitty management purposely, so that the Flauberts are free to use it as grounds to deal drugs from, and utilize the units to funnel many of their services through.

Anything Rudaslavia needs me to edit I would be happy to.

[Rodez]

I'm working on an app for a lady thief, but I'll wait on Rud's Faubert app before I flesh out the bio.

[Cylarn]

Vak, you're accepted. One thing, though, you may be forced into the Chief role at my leisure, unless Rud has an idea for his vision of the North Palmyra Police Department.

[Of the Quendi]

Looks interesting. I will get to work on an app for a Faubert character (as they seem in short supply) once Rudaslavia puts up one for the family patriarch.

[Rudaslavia]

Appreciate y'all being so patient (my character's voice has been ringing in my head all day, and I'm actually starting to find words/phrases like "y'all," "cher," and "my dear" somewhat fun to use). I just finished my bio, so all I have left to complete is the personality section. Expect my app to be up by 9PM EST tonight, promise.

[Of the Quendi]

Appreciate y'all being so patient (my character's voice has been ringing in my head all day, and I'm actually starting to find words/phrases like "y'all," "cher," and "my dear" somewhat fun to use). I just finished my bio, so all I have left to complete is the personality section. Expect my app to be up by 9PM EST tonight, promise.

Great, looking forward to it.

[Rudaslavia]

I've decided to rewrite my biography, as there are several point which I think need to be added to further justify the personality I'd like old Jules to embody. But this is my work-in-progress. I'll post the biography and personality up tomorrow.

FAUBERT, J.

+++Name: "My, oh, my, you are direct. My name is Jules Faubert. But in formal settings, I'm addressed by my full birth name and title: Marie-Joseph Hercule Beausoleil Jules Faubert, Esquire. My cher, your brow has furrowed. I suppose long names such as mine have gone out of fashion. But they was commonplace, once upon a time, especially among people of my family's standing: l'aristocratie acadienne, as my daddy called it. Truth be told, I've always loved my name...excessive and outdated as it may be. It's full of culture. Full of history. Marie-Joseph, after the carpenter's folks -- 'cause unlike myself, my momma was a pious soul. Hercule, after my granddaddy -- and what a Hercules he was. Beausoleil, after the ol' Cajun folk hero -- from whom my momma claimed descent. And, of course, Jules, after the greatest of Caesars...though I hope not to die at the hands of a Brutus.

+++Age: "My cher, I'm even older than the roads you travel. This heart of mine's been beatin' for ninety-one years. And you best believe it's still beatin' strong."

+++Gender: "I admit to takin' some offense to this question. I'm a Southern man and what's more, a Southern gentleman."

+++Physical appearance: "I was a taller man, once. Six feet. Now, I'm five-nine. Age is a strange thing. It's as if time crushes you into an old, wrinkly diamond. But I supposed I've aged okay, all things considered. My hair's receded some and gone white as snow, but for the most part, it's still there. Had intraocular lenses implanted in '75, so I can see quite well. I still got a nice smile; haven't lost a single tooth. Course, sixty-plus years of pipe smoking has left them stained. And somehow, against all odds, I can still hear clear as day.

"My body's wearin' down, though. Can't hardly walk without a cane; been using my granddaddy's ol' Victorian walkin' stick since I was sixty-seven. It's my left leg, see. Guess my war wound never healed proper. Hurts like the devil, especially during winter months. Then there's my back; there's a slight hunch when I stand. Dowager's hump. Ain't too noticeable, but the discomfort is persistent as all hell. My knuckles is swelled up with arthritis, especially my right hand. That's the worst pain of all. Can't even shoot guns no more.

"But I'm still strong for an ol' bastard. Beat a man half to death with my cane a few years back. Granted, it was over a week 'fore I could use my hand again, but I still cracked that little shit's skull like an eggshell. Made me miss bein' a young 'un. Ah, well."

+++Identifying Marks: "Got me three nasty scars from Meuse-Argonne. Kraut machine-gunner hit me three times in a diagonal pattern: once in the right shoulder, once in the left abdomen, and once in the left leg. Surgeon said it was a miracle I survived. He said God was watching over me. I said I survived 'cause God was too afraid to meet me face-to-face. The surgeon didn't laugh.

"I developed trench foot 'round the same time I got shot. Left my feet mangled and ugly as sin. Luckily, they don't hurt no more...or perhaps the pain in my hands blinds me to the pain in my feet."

* * *

+++Ethnicity: "Cajun, Acadian, Louisiana Creole -- the semantics don't matter. I'm a Frenchman of the bayou. We Fauberts have lived in these marshes almost as long as the gators. My daddy said we were the first to settle these parts; said the Bedards stole half our land, and that's what started this whole feud. But who really cares? At this point in the game, the details of history don't matter. Our war is a war of hate. The Fauberts and the Bedards been fightin' so long that the hate's gotten into our blood. And you know what? I like it."

+++Religion: "I was raised Catholic, like the rest of my family. But I'm no believer. Religion is a scared man's game. Folk find themselves up shit creek without a paddle, they pray. And when their pleas for help fall on deaf ears, they pray again. Not me. 'Cause I learned some time ago that it's quicker to fix things yourself than to wait for help that ain't comin'.

"Now, I ain't sayin' there's no God. I'm just sayin' that I don't care. We're either alone, or we ain't. And if we ain't...well, it makes no difference to me. If there's a God, he's a petty and apathetic tyrant. I suppose I am, too. Maybe that's why I can't bring myself to bend the knee; I understand the game he's playin'. And I must say, he ain't playin' that game too well. Dumbass gave men free will and then demanded they submit. A design like that don't deserve respect. And it certainly don't deserve worship."

+++Birthplace: "Mine was an old-fashioned birth in the big house, right here in North Palmyra. My momma's midwife was a former slave. Different times, cher."

+++Criminal History: "I do declare, my cher, you are bold as can be. Well, I ain't never been brought up on no charges, if that's what you're askin'."

+++Military History: "As a young 'un, I'd hoped to build myself an officer's career. See, at that time, I wasn't yet my daddy's heir. Ain't nobody thought I'd one day take the throne, so the second-best option was the military. I graduated from The Citadel in 1911, and got myself assigned as a second lieutenant with the Louisiana National Guard, 141st Field Artillery Regiment. Clawed my way up to captain's commission by '16, and there was talk of placin' me in command of a new cavalry unit. Course, that never came to fruition. When the US entered the war in '17, officers like myself were transferred to the AEF, and I was shipped to France with the 360th Infantry. Hell on earth. Changed who I was. Made me hate the service. After a bout of trench foot, three Kraut bullets, and a life-and-death wrestlin' match with the Spanish flu, I decided to give up my commission in '21. I was happy to escape the Army...but I was never quite able to escape the trenches. For better or for worse, they became a part of me."

+++Psychological analysis: WIP

* * *

+++Alignment: "Been at the helm of the Faubert clan for nigh on sixty years. This family's all that matters in my world. I'll kill any folk needs killin' for my kin to thrive -- be them folk men, women, or children. The blood runs thicker than water, see. But make no mistake: if one of my blood so much as thinks 'bout acting against me, that blood we share will become less than water. Their blood will become trash. And I am a Southern gentleman; ain't no place for trash in my beloved family."

+++Occupation: "All that I do and have ever done has been in service to my one true occupation: the Faubert family's boss. It's my duty to guide and protect my kin. To help them flourish. The means by which I've reached that end have varied immensely over the years. I've been a soldier; a planter; a logger; a bootlegger; a smuggler; a real estate mogul; a pimp; a lawyer; an investor; a banker; a loanshark; a casino kingpin; even a pornographer. But on paper, I'm just an ol' plantation feudalist with a fancy law degree. And hell, that's all good folk really need to know."

* * *

+++Biography: WIP

+++RP Sample: Nah, man. Nah.

#ItWillBeDone

[Cylarn]

Just get it in, but aside from that, it looks pretty hot. I like Jules!

In any case, our prospective Fauberts should get to reading and writing. I will work on some filler family bios, based up what Norv and Rid have given. Good work, fellas!

[The Vaktovian Empire]

Very, very excited for this one. It's got an incredible amount of potential!

I will say while I wouldn't mind being forced into the role of Chief, I feel I could play the role of a NPC Chief above me forcing me to do whatever Rud's agendas are at the time in a better capacity than being thrown right into the hot seat as Chief. I'm open to whatever the both of you decide.

[Dahyan]

Loving the Jules Faubert application so far. I think I'll be putting up a bayou dweller in service of the Faubert clan soon.

[Costa Fierro]

(Godreau, J. M. E)

+++Name: Jacques "Jack" Godreau
+++Age: 57
+++Gender: Male
+++Physical appearance: 5'10, 225 lbs.
+++Identifying Marks: Jack has two gunshot wounds in his lower abdomen from his military service, received during Operation Varsity in 1944, and another gunshot wound on his upper left shoulder from being shot as a sherriff's deputy in 1967.

+++Ethnicity: Caucasian. The Godreau family themselves are descended from those forced out of French Canada after the Seven Years War.
+++Religion: Catholic.
+++Birthplace: North Palmyra.
+++Criminal History: Nothing
+++Military History: Godreau enlisted at age 20 to become a paratrooper and was sent to Camp Claiborne in Forest Hill, Louisiana, before being transferred to the 507th Parachute Infantry Regiment at Fort Benning, Georgia. He served too late to take part in the operations over Sicily, and after his training, was sent to the United Kingdom to participate in preparations for Operation Neptune, as part of the invasion over Normandy. Godreau was simply trained as a paratrooper, however his fluency in French was of particular use when the 82nd parachuted into northern France, where he began his campaign by being suspended from a tree, until cut down by members of another platoon from the same company. Godreau participated in the Battle of Graignes and managed to survive that campaign without incident.

The 507th was transferred back to the United Kingdom in July 1944 and remained there until December that year for retraining and refitting. The unit was transferred back to France, and utilised in counter attacks against German positions in January and February 1945. By this stage, Godreau had been promoted to the rank of sergeant.

Godreau made his last combat jump in March 1945, landing near Wessel, Germany, as part of Operation Varsity, the aerial crossing of the Rhine. During an attack on a German machine gun nest, Godreau was wounded in the stomach, shot twice from a machine gun sweep. Despite this he kept himself on the front line, and was only withdrawn after the attack had concluded. Godreau was taken to a field hospital in Belgium, and transferred back to the United States in April 1945.

Unlike most volunteers, Godreau stayed on in as a paratrooper, this time transferring to the 506th Airborne Infantry Regiment where he would serve until 1959, finishing his 16 year military career with the rank of Sergeant Major training recruits. Godreau finished career having been awarded a Purple Heart for being wounded in combat in Germany, the Army Good Conduct Medal, received not long after he was awarded his Purple Heart.

+++Psychological analysis: Godreau was shaped by his experiences in the US Army during the Second World War, and applied these experiences to how he ran his life, from his work to his family. Godreau is considered to be strict, authoritarian, and not above violence to achieve goals and objectives. Godreau has an overriding sense of duty when it comes to his role as a sherriff, which is a byproduct of his time in the military.

Godreau commands loyalty and respect from those around him, and this loyalty is also rewarded with his own. He recognises that he has limitations when it comes to providing law and order in his parish, and accepts that sometimes bad things have to happen in order for good things to come.

Godreau is a family man. He has a profound sense of love and duty for his wife and his family, and will do everything in his power to provide the best life for them, as well as to protect them. In doing so, he also has strict expectations of conduct and behaviour from his children, especially his sons.

Because of his military training, Godreau is calm in high-stress situations. However, he does suffer from certain problems deriving from his service, including a fear of fireworks and is emotionally distant. His command of loyalty and authoritarianism have also meant that he is reluctant to accept criticism, and perceives those who offer criticism as threats. He also is feeling an increasing exasperation and an sense of inadequacy at being unable to fully uphold the law in his parish, and properly render justice.
+++Alignment: As the parish sheriff, Godreau has had encounters with both families and their dealings. He is more or less forced to tolerate much of the illicit activities that go on inside the parish, but makes arrests and seizures where possible.
+++Occupation: Sheriff of Oxbow Parish.
+++Biography: Jacques Martin Emile Godreau, known to everyone around him as Jack, was born into the old money Godreau family on June 1, 1923. The Godreau family have as much wealth as the Bedards and the Fauberts, but lack the influence, owing to their relative willingness to avoid conflict and astute political and business acumen. His father, Martin Godreau, had inherited the family fortune, which had been saved throughout the Reconstruction period by venturing out beyond the growing of cotton into a number of business interests, although the family still lived on the antebellum plantation north of the twin cities.

Godreau attended private school, and wasn't considered to be especially notable student, merely fitting. He graduated high school, and instead of attending university, went against the grade and worked at a greengrocers in North Palmyra before enlisting with the United States Army in 1943. Godreau served in the Normandy campaign and in Operation Varsity before being injured in combat. After the war he continued to serve in the United States Army, before retiring from the service in 1959.

He moved back to North Palmyra in 1960, and joined the parish sheriff's department as a deputy, being officially deputised in January 1961. He would serve on the department with dilligence and integrity, making himself a name in the twin cities before being shot during a gunfight with a suspect alleged to have been running moonshine into the parish. He went on to make a full recovery, and returned to service in 1969.

Godreau quickly learned throughout his service about how law enforcement worked in Oxbow Parish, with his predecessor George Gamelin being known for his hilariously corrupt nature. Although he had raised concerns with other deputies, he learned quickly to keep his head down and do his job to the best of his capacity. Accepting the corruption was among one of the harder aspects of his job he had to do, and one that he did begrudgingly, realising it was better to work with, rather than against, his superiors and coworkers. This would be reflected in the increasing trust and responsibility placed upon him towards the end of the 1970's, as Godreau ended up in a position to directly succeed Gamelin should anything happen. Which it did on New Year's Eve, 1980. Gamelin died of a heart attack.

Godreau now faces his role as Acting Sheriff in the face of a department whose sworn officers are used to collecting bribes rather than citations, and a political system designed to benefit either of the major families in the county. Two corrupt police forces, two political forces happy to kill or maim to get what they want. Godreau had a fight on his hands, but one in which he was prepared for.
+++RP Sample: Haha what are those.
#ItWillBeDone (DO NOT REMOVE)

[Of the Quendi]

Jack Godreau for governor y'all!

Faubert, C. J.

(Image go here, optional, you can also use Appearance below instead if you want, recommend a pic less than 500 pixels wide or tall)

+++Name: Coraline Josette Faubert aka Caroline Fairbanks. Formerly Coraline Josette LeBlanc. Known as Cora, Joe. Josie or Jo.
+++Age: 47
+++Gender: Female
+++Physical appearance: "Handsome Luce's" daughter was in her youth a very pretty southern belle. Now at middle age she is a dignified looking dame.
+++Identifying Marks: None

+++Ethnicity: Cajun
+++Religion: Roman Catholic
+++Birthplace: North Palmyra
+++Criminal History: None
+++Military History: None

+++Psychological analysis: Joe's troubled drug-induced alcoholized past in Hollywood and Las Vegas is behind her. She has grown to be calming and moderating influence on the hotheads of her family. She values family (though considering hers sometimes more in the abstract than in actual practice) very highly. Beyond her almost excessive love for her only son she is a maternal and caring figure for many of her relatives. Since her father's death she has been very close to her distraught mother and assumed a maternal role towards her siblings and half-siblings, or even some of her younger cousins. This role to some extent extends beyond her close relatives. While having mixed feelings towards her uncle Jules (to put it mildly) Joe consider it an obligation to look after her ninety year old uncle and make sure he eat properly and doesn't overexert himself. Joe may not be destroyed when her uncle dies but until that happens she considers it her duty to look after him. She is a frequent churchgoer and encourage her family to join her. While not exactly devout Joe reckons that if anyone needs god in their lives it's her family.

Despite the traditional conservative family values Joe had acquired in middle age she is more than just a matron and homemaker and the unofficial First Lady of the Faubert family. She very much enjoys her career as a casino operator and entrepreneur and despite her very limited education (a sore topic for her) is adept at it. Though her involvement in the family business is indirect at best she is nevertheless something of an unofficial advisor to top brass on money laundering and financial matters. She has an acute sense for when to make herself scarce when "the men" need to discuss matters of the family business that Joe very much doesn't want to know about.

Joe's hobbies are largely musical. Though she doesn't sing professionally anymore she enjoys listening to music and plays several instruments ably. She is active in her community and known for her parties and celebrations at her private home which are well attended by what passes for high society in Palmyra.
+++Alignment: Faubert family. Coraline Josette is the daughter of Lucien Faubert.
+++Occupation: Socialite, actress/singer/dancer/model/showgirl (formerly), casino operator and money launderer
+++Biography: Coraline Josette Faubert was born to Lucien Faubert and his long sufferingwife in 1933 in their family home in North Palmyra. Her father Lucien was at the time beginning to rise in the Faubert family organization after the death of his older brothers Claude and Ross two years before. When she was very young Joe saw her father with one of his mistresses. While she has no recollection of the event it tainted her relationship with her father and growing up she became a willful and rebellious daughter. Sent to a fancy boarding school (catholic, run by nuns) Joe was raised conservatively to be a proper Acadian southern belle. She didn't much care for it. She rebelled in numerous ways, including by fooling around with a Bedard man and flirting with the colored help.

At sixteen she took her rebelliousness a step further and ran away to Hollywood to be "a big star". Good at both acting and singing (but perhaps not great at either) and beautiful she spent a few years on the fringe of Hollywood before gaining a contract with Howard Hughes' RKO Pictures and getting some minor roles in movies that generally failed. In 1958 Joe, nearing twenty five, realized a great break as an actress was not forthcoming and left the flailing Hughes operation and Hollywood moving to the booming casino city of Las Vegas. There she became a showgirl and singer at Binion's Gambling Hall and Hotel. It was there she meet Michael LeBlanc, a dubious casino owner more than twice her age. She became his mistress and the main singer at his seedy casino and hotel The Trojan. After LeBlanc's wife died he married Joe.

The marriage proved unhappy. LeBlanc demanded that Joe abandoned her singing career and become a homemaker, he also continued his practice of being unfaithful to his wife and was emotionally abusive. LeBlanc was also proving an incapable administrator of The Trojan which netted only a small profit, not nearly enough to sustain the lavish lifestyle LeBlanc required for himself. As business turned bad, LeBlanc turned on his wife and the marriage became increasingly toxic. Nevertheless in 1960 Joe became pregnant. LeBlanc believed (perhaps not without reason) that he was not the father and became for the first time in their life physical abusive towards his wife, raping and beating her, after being told of the coming child. A desperate Joe reached out to her mother for the first time in over a decade having a tearful phone conversation with her.

One week later LeBlanc was in a very serious car accident. He never touched his wife again. After LeBlanc's accident the fortunes of The Trojan turned around miraculously almost overnight. While the relationship between the spouses was cold, LeBlanc refused to acknowledge his son whom a defiant Joe gave the surname Faubert, Joe blossomed in those years. She saw little of her husband who stayed more or less permanently with various mistresses but devoted herself to her son and became a more calm and harmonious person than she had ever been. Her musical career, which she resumed, also took of when she abandoned modernist musical styles (at which she had never excelled) and started singing country music at which she was more successful. Joe was quite happy with her life. In 1967 Michael LeBlanc died of a heart attack induced by excess drinking in the bed of his mistress at the time. Joe took his death in good strides. Expecting to inherit a large fortune Joe was shocked to learn that the reversal of the fortunes of The Trojan had been not due to better management by her husband (in fact he had all but abandoned running his casino and had turned ever more profligate with age) but due to the influx of large sums of money from Oxbow Parish. The Trojan had become a money laundering scheme for the Faubert family. With LeBlanc's death this presented a problem for Joe. On paper she was a millionaire heiress, in actual practice the money had by some opaque measure found its way into her family's hands. This Joe could hardly tell LeBlanc's silent partners, debtors or the IRS. To cover all claims against her husband's deeply indebted estate she had to engage in some very creative accounting and promise her father to carry on laundering money through The Trojan.

For the next two years Joe ran The Trojan. Though she had never been in charge of anything before she proved a dramatic improvement over her husband. Joe had no expensive mistresses and after her husband's death she stopped drinking. She lived reasonably frugally and devoted much time and effort to running the casino. With the protection of her family the criminal elements in Las Vegas largely left her alone. The Trojan tried.

In 1969 Joe sold off most of The Trojan to the Faubert family, keeping a relatively small share for herself. With her son she then moved back to Palmyra. There she bought a house for herself and established a riverboat casino the Cajun Queen as well as helping the Chitimacha tribe establish, and become a silent partner, in their tribal casino. Reconciling with her family Joe became a somewhat reluctant money launderer for the family. Her lack of a criminal record, significant administrative talents and personal wealth made her very suitable for the task and soon very significant sums of Faubert money moved through her various enterprises.

In 1974 Lucien Faubert died under mysterious circumstances. Despite an often fraught relationship relationship Joe was devastated, and frightened. She suspected foul play by the new leader of the Bedard family, a by all account vicious monster of a man who had maimed another Faubert relative a few years before. Joe grew increasingly eager to turn legitimate. Unlike her husband she had no trouble making legal profits from her casino business and other enterprises and didn't need her family's more dubious money. Telling her uncle Jules that she wasn't going to launder his money was of course not an option but as the man grow older Joe is beginning to seek greater independence to ensure that in the event of the man's death if she can't convince the family as a whole to go legit at least she will be able to extricate herself from them.

Ironically this scheme is being frustrated by none other than Joe's son. While she has great ambitions for his life, wanting him to go to law school and become a politician, her son has shown a great interest in the Faubert family business and works as a soldier under Old Man Faubert. Joe is furious with her son for choosing such a life for himself and is trying to get him to turn away from crime. Thus far with no success. Joe now wonders if she should accept her son's decision and start working not to extricate herself from the family but help her son climb the ladder.
+++RP Sample: https://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?p=36544155#p36544155
#ItWillBeDone (DO NOT REMOVE)

Location Application

• Name: The Trojan
• Location: Las Vegas, Nevada
• Type of Location: Casino and hotel
• Revenue: The Trojan, owned mostly by the Faubert family through various fronts, still launders some money for the family.

Location Application

• Name: The Cajun Queen
• Location: Palmyra
• Type of Location: Riverboat casino
• Revenue: The Cajun Queen launders a lot of money for the Faubert family while also bringing in a lot of legitimate revenue for Coraline Josette Faubert.

Location Application

• Name: Chitimacha Tribal Casino
• Location: Louisiana
• Type of Location: Casino and hotel
• Revenue: The Chitimacha Tribal Casino launders a lot of money for the Faubert family and provides some legitimate revenue for the Chitimacha tribe and for Coraline Josette Faubert.

[Cylarn]

On the subject of Sheriff Goudreau, I do have some concerns. My original intention was for the office of Sheriff to be particularly stunted when compared to other Sheriff's Offices elsewhere in the South. They'd take on a much heavier civil and political role while being outweighed in preventative police activities by the municipal departments.

However, I am willing to make a compromise. Instead of heading back to Palmyra after his military service, he takes on a successful career with the Louisiana State Police. Eventually, he returns to Palmyra to take up the mantle of Chief Deputy in an office tainted by corruption. Fights the system until New Years Day of1980, when the Sheriff dies of a heart attack, leaving Goudreau as the Acting Sheriff until an election. He would start the RP with a greatly diminished office, and the sequence of events would serve to balance the two things that I see at conflict: the power of the two families who can make or break whomever they please, versus a Sheriff who is professedly anti-crime.

[Rudaslavia]

-Coraline Josette Faubert-

I should say (for the sake of those writing Jules into their bios before I post my completed app later today) that Jules has never been married and does not have any children of his own. He does, however, have many nieces and nephews who are descended from his brothers.

Jules's parents, Etienne (1858-1921) and Delphine (1865-1919), had five children in total. All boys. They were:

• Germaine Faubert (1886-1919): Germaine was Eitenne's intended heir. However, he died childless in 1919 due to the outbreak of the Spanish flu in the Palmyra locality. The epidemic also claimed the life of the family's matriarch, Delphine (which indirectly contributed to Etienne's fatal heart attack in 1921).
  
• Jules Faubert (1889-): As I said, never married, never had children.
  
• Claude Faubert (1891-1931): Claude was a "wild child." He was extremely close with his younger brother Ross, who almost always took part in Claude's antics while growing up on the Faubert homestead. Claude and Ross were both killed by a Bedard car bomb in 1931 during the so-called "Oxbow Shine War" (1928-1932). Claude was, however, survived by several children (and later on, grandchildren).
  
• Rosaire "Ross" Faubert (1895-1931): As I said, killed alongside Claude by a Bedard car bomb in '31. Like Claude, Ross was also survived by children (and future grandchildren) of his own.
  
• Lucien Faubert (1898-1974): Also known as "Handsome Luce," Lucien was the womanizer of his generation. He kept his distance from the Faubert family's criminal activities until his elder brothers were slain by the Bedards. Afterward, he assumed a far more active role in Jules's operation and eventually became his elder brother's underboss. I'm thinking the niece Roland had maimed might have been Lucien's daughter or granddaughter. He died of mysterious causes in 1974. Also survived by many children and grandchildren.

All of this will be better explained in my bio.

[Rudaslavia]

But I plan on being generally vague in terms of who the brothers' wives and children were. Leave that for you guys to decide, should you choose to play as one of their descendants.