IC Blog for the character Connor Worthshire. Tailor, "Cleaner", and Painfully Polite Gentleman. Read More at your own risk- Dark Themes. FC: Gaspard Ulliel
What are the hardest things about criminal rp in your opinion?
Criminal RPers. Criminal RP would be really great if people didn’t actively shout on the roof tops that they commit crimes then denounce consequences for their actions. It would also be great if criminal rpers couldn’t suddenly shit out fireballs.
What would be the best thing however, is metagaming not being used as a tactic to try and oust other criminal guilds.
It would also be nice for Non-Criminal Rpers to not go on this weird crusade to claim every criminal RPer is some sociopathic serial killer out of character. That would be nice too.
There’s a lot of things wrong with Criminal RP. There’s a lot of things wrong with the roleplay community in WoW in general.
I just live by this:
1) I don’t approach people other than friends unless I am approached first
2) I do all criminal dealings/discussions in party and emote that I am speaking under my breath
3) Keep Receipts. Every single RP I have/OOC conversation is kept in elephant and saved on my computer. I ain’t playing that ‘he said she said’ game, I’ll drop it out for everyone to see.
The actor who played Luca Brasi in the Godfather was actually a member of the Colombo crime family sent to monitor the set. Coppola cast him, but due to his nerves, he kept making mistakes and repeating his lines to himself. This was then incorporated into the film as a character trait.
Michael Colm was exhausted. New laws regarding the Realty within the city was taxing to say the least, bureaucracy at its most potent- and most useless. The new license prices were infeasible, and he dreaded the next morning where he would have to tell his wife that his business would need to be sold. The streets were devoid of people- expected when they were kept at an unreasonable hour, but it was nice to be able to walk without bumping into a refugee, an urchin, or someone trying to make a cheap silver in a bad con.
Stepping up to the door to his shop, the keys rattled against the oak and he’d push it open with a yawn, rubbing his face as he adjusted the level of the oil lamp. Setting down the briefcase and hanging the cloak up, he paused when he looked through the reflection of the small mirror placed against the wall.
A well-dressed man with a cold stare sat in the chair, Michael Colm’s newborn child resting lightly in his lap. Michael whipped around, fumbling to try and reach for his gun, however the man’s voice rang out.
“Please sit, Mister Colm.” The tone was calm, yet there was a certain level of coldness that caused the hair on the back of the Realtor’s neck to stand. His temper was flaring, who the hell did the man think he was, yet there was also a budding, instinctual fear as well, from a place within that he really couldn’t comprehend. Frowning deeply, he moved to sit down across from the man.
“I’d like to sit in my own chair.”
“I think I’ll stay sitting here, this chair is far more comfortable” A cold smile was offered, before he would adjust himself gently so that the child remained asleep.
“What do you want, and what are you doing with my child?” Michael’s voice was calm, however the twinge of irritation and uncertainty was growing apparent with each word spoken. Connor clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he leaned back into the leather plush.
“Don’t be rude,” the tailor chided, finally lifting his hand from underneath the desk, and in turn, the pistol that was in his hand was revealed. Michael Colm’s irritation melted almost immediately into frigid, numbing fear. How long had he had his weapon out with his child nearby? What was he planning?
Connor, however, cleared his throat. “Now, according to your very lovely secretary, she’s stated that you are in possession of two deeds that I have my eyes on, and I must say I am incredibly concerned with the methods you use to garner the prices.” He stated simply. “Are you well aware you are charging almost twice the amount of the actual property worth?” Colm’s mouth opened to protest, but Connor continued to speak. “But I also notice as well that you have given a rather concerning deal to a few less than reputable groups that make themselves known in the city.” He paused for a moment, those steel grey eyes locking upon the man as he opened up the man’s own ledger and black book. “Shop fronts, store fronts, residential areas- yet those who aren’t involved with these certain groups are treated less than acceptably- do you agree, Mister Colm?”
Michael wrinkled his nose, opening his mouth to retort. “Are you stating that I am involved in less than savory business practices-” His breath caught in his throat, the moment the man’s wrist twisted the barrel of the gun under the chin of the infant. He felt everything within his soul collapse down towards his feet, and he grew lightheaded. As his vision swam, all he could focus upon was the barrel of that gun and his child- who lifted his hand sleepily to wrap his fingers around the cold metal.
“What I am saying, Mister Colm, is that such practices tend to hurt the ones we love most. Sometimes in small ways, other times in irreparable ways. Surely you would agree, yes?”
Connor’s gaze bored into him, and when Michael’s gaze finally met his, he nodded weakly.
“Y-yes sir I agree-” he rasped, clearing his throat after his words caught into it. His hand would shakily reach up to pat the desk. “Whatever you want. What- whatever you want. You have it. Anything and everything.” He has seen the blustering of other criminals, other gang-related individuals who swaggered into his shop as if they owned the place. He knew how to talk to them, he knew how to shoo them away and make them think they got what they wanted. He never had one sit in his chair with his infant, threatening the unthinkable without any hint of conscience within his demeanor.
Connor smiled, offering a nod, and gently the barrel of the pistol shifted so that it was no longer directly aligned with the child’s face. “I knew you would see my point of view, Mister Colm. Now, there are two deeds that I wish for you to look into and secure for me- and, I’m sure my employer would greatly appreciate your cooperation with any future endeavors.” He dipped his head lightly. “And, contrary to your current impression, you’ll find that a partnership will be incredibly lucrative.”
The hand with the pistol lifted up, and he pressed down against an envelope, sliding it towards Michael. As the Realtor grasped it and opened it up, his eyes widened and his gaze snapped up to meet Connor’s once more. A License, paid for for the next ten years. The tailor nodded once, and as Michael closed the envelope, he shakily stood up to offer his hand to the man.
“We have an accord.”
The tailor smiled, standing up and holstering the pistol whilst he adjusted the infant in his arms tenderly. He shook the man’s hand, and in turn, offered for the Realtor to take his son, which he had done quickly.
“I’m pleased to hear this, Mister Colm. Now please, take your seat, I would like to discuss the properties I am interested in.”
Now this is a good criminal character. Watched you RP for a bit, and it wasn't 'hurr durr I murder folk'. I really hope more people take a leaf out of your book, we desperately need good criminal rp.
Aw thank you! And yeah, my whole outlook on crime rp is the moment you begin announcing things like that in public is the moment you prove that consequences for your actions and admissions aren’t really a thing.
The point of criminal RP is the tension of getting caught and doing things right- not playing billy bad-ass.
With that said however, I fully intend to take consequences if they come, and they are not spurned by metagaming and underhanded OOC tactics. I have no patience for that crap.
OMG you're back! People were saying you died or something
That would have benefitted them. Why would I want to do that? :3
In all seriousness though, I’m okay. Took a long break and am shaking off the dust. Not sure if people would be happy about it, but oh well. I don’t live for them. And I don’t wish them any ill will neither.
Selection: His gaze snaps to seemingly look in the eyes of the selector, before offering a smirk.
Class: Rogue
Weapons: Two pistols, a Garrote, Three specialized blades
AI Behavior: He will stealth and go further ahead, taking down minor and moderate enemies to clear a path. Up to 4 enemies can be slain before he must return.
In combat, he is vicious and does not hold any regard for his opponent’s life. He is not swayed by pleading or begging, and will dispatch individuals who surrender in a specialized cutscene.
Party’s ability to persuade and bribe individuals is strongly buffed. Intimidation is moderately buffed.
HE WILL KILL THE MOST CUMBERSOME OF THE PARTY. That means, if one character is increasingly making things hard for the group, they will be attacked.
[Battle Music]
Battle Lines:
"Absolutely inexcusable.” - Usually a finisher, when he’s dispatched them rather quickly.
“Your form leaves much to be desired.”
"Is that it?”
"It would have been easier to simply step aside.”
Cooldowns
"I’ve had just about enough of these games.” It can usually be heard, coupled with the sound of tearing clothes and a lupine snarl.
The sound of two clips being put in place and then a hail of pistol fire.
“It looks like your neckline needs a trim.” If he is behind a boss, he will pull his garrote and effectively silence/interrupt them, as well as stun them for up to 30 seconds as he strangles the life out of them.
KO:
"This wasn’t according to plan.”
“This is what happens when I don’t vet the hiring party.”
Resurrected:
"At least you know how to do something correct.” -Used when his death could have been avoided.
"Well, at least the suit repairs won’t be strenuous.”
Allegretto - Pristine. Poised. Premeditated. The footsteps were cat-like, quiet in ever manner, predatory in every manner. The spider silk and steel wire was pulled taut betwixt gloved fingertips. His grip on the ironwood handle was so tight he could feel his pulse. Two steps. Three more. He was behind him now. His hands lifted and twisted in a violent motion. He heard the man’s wheeze, and the intimacy of their closeness would have been romantic if it weren’t so tragic. He smelled nice, of roses. He was well dressed as well. The man struggled, then silence.
Gangster’s Paradise - His father stood before him, dressed in his finest suit- he recognized it from their time in Gilneas. Still well-pressed despite it all, albeit a bit older. Connor’s fingers tightened around the grip of his pistol, his hand hidden by the suit jacket. His father held the same stance, a smirk upon his lips. With a dip of his head, they bowed in unison and drew their firearms. Another dance, a different victor.
Confess - The confessional was quiet, dark, the cedar was stained dark with the lacquer used. The priest that sat down on the other side of the sliding frame. His expression remained serene, however, his knowledge of the crimes the man had committed boiled deep in his core. “What is your confession, my child?” His hand slipped upon the stiletto inside his suit jacket, drawing it quietly from the scabbard. He anchored his hand against one of the embossed openings of the wall, driving it forward and up. The bishop always leaned into the wall, and it was his death tonight. “I came to kill a pimp.”
Lone Digger - The drink splashed, the blade was drawn, but Connor was like lightning. Swinging his hand up to block the arm holding the blade with his forearm, he’d bare his teeth and swing his free hand to smash into the man’s face. The assailant fell back, toppling over the table, and the tailor lifted his hands to adjust his jacket before his friend attempted to kick him. He twirled around on a heel, offering a swift backhand. He’d lick the inside of his cheek, tilting his head. “That was bad form.”
Fur Elise - “They told me they needed me for a very particular, very sensitive mission.” He stated simply. “The name on the card was Marcus.” His gaze flicked up, and he smirked. “Marcus Worthshire.”
No Category 4 storm has made landfall in this part of Gulf
If you have been ordered to evacuate, Evacuate. DO NOT leave your animals behind, or if you have no choice, give them ample ability to escape. Do not tie them to trees, leave them in Kennels, etc.
THIS SITE will aid you in preparations before, during, and after the storm.
"I often wondered if you were the once estranged son of Braxton Hudson or that you are a clandestine underboss. You certainly hold the unsettling aura of one."
“Underboss? Oh you must mean Walking Boss- While I’m utterly flattered you think so, I am a simple tailor. What good businessman would give the tailor such control of the company?”
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