Post by John Sterling on May 2, 2009 9:06:10 GMT
Just The Facts:
- Mounted Police Officer.
- 27.
- 5’11”
- Calm and easygoing.
[/size]Suspect: STERLING, JOHN MITCHELL
WARNING: This suspect owns an alcoholic horse.
Basic Stats:
Name: John Mitchell Sterling
Known Aliases: A few nicknames like Jack, Johnny, and whatnot. He’s also colloquially known as ‘the cigarette guy’ to a few for his habit of offering free smokes to everyone. There are also a few not so nice ones, such as ‘rube’.
Gender: Male
Age: 27. Born September 30, 1899
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Nationality: American
Physical Description:
Mug shot: Matthew Settle
Height: 5’11”
Build: Average. Some muscle tone due to basic exercises and horse riding.
Hair Colour: Brown.
Eye Colour: Hazel.
Known Disguises: Three words: Casual, simple, practical. He has a total of two good suits, because there’s not much use in fine wear when you’re just going to sully it up in a stable. His clothing needs a good ironing and is worn somewhat rumpled, but he tries to keep himself looking as neat and clean as he can despite the dust that tends to build up on the bottom of his trousers.
Distinguishing Marks: John has one of those familiar faces you could swear you’ve seen before somewhere. It makes him stand out in a crowd but he’s easily forgotten afterwards. Otherwise, he has a fairly square face with bright eyes and a prominent jaw and brow. He’s managed to keep himself out of trouble so the only scars he’s acquired are just the odd nick and scrape here and there.
Psychological Report:
||Yeah, boo hiss, sorry guys. I know it’s vague, but I suck at writing personalities until I’ve RPed the character a bit and got a feel for them.||[/blockquote]Self Image: John doesn’t hate himself but he’s no narcissist either. He can get a bit insecure and self-deprecating at times, but he just has to remind himself now and then to be realistic about his self perception. He knows (all too well) he’s got flaws that need working on, but hey, he has positives (here and there) to even it out.
To the Outward Eye: His exterior depends a lot on where he’s at. On the job and around the horses he’s focused and serious, keeping his mind on task, but when hanging around in his spare time he can have a joke and a laugh as well as anyone.
Social Status: John floats around the middle. He has a number of friends in and around the force and tends to pick up new ones quickly, but it’s up to the other person to take the initiative to stay in touch so his personal relationships fluctuate a little.
Religion: Protestant.
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual.
Fears: Running out of money, car accidents, getting shot, something happening to his horse.
Quirks/Habits: Whistles while working, cracks his knuckles when nervous, has to pack away all his horses equipment in a certain order, OCD about things having to be stored neatly, and has to finish whatever he’s started reading (even if it’s boring as hell), and really doesn't like cars.
Likes: Cigarettes, horses, girls, guns and beer. He’s a typical southerner, really.
Dislikes: Cigarettes, mobsters, Prohibition, cars, hardcore city-slickers, people touching his stuff (just don’t do it),
Detailed Report: On the plus side, he’s practical, dependable, confident, hard working, determined, brave, focused, loyal, caring and empathetic.
On the minus side, his morals can be somewhat dubious (policeman in speakeasies, wut?), he lacks drive for the future, indecisive, easily lead astray, quickly gets complacent, a little narrow-minded, has black & white way of viewing life, and is suspicious towards strangers,
John has, perhaps, too much of a weak spot as far as friends go. He’d bend over backwards for them and they’re allowed to practically walk all over him. He suspects his friend Ryan McArthur is involved with something less than legal for the Irish Mafia but he can’t bring himself to investigate, instead deliberately turning a blind eye.
He’s rather disillusioned with the police force as a whole because all their ‘living to serve’ mantra, more than half of them are corrupt and crime is up more than ever no thanks to the Prohibition. He’s sort of given up with humanity as a whole.
Other: Picked up smoking a few years back which made him unusually depressed, stressed and panicky from nicotine withdrawals. His new police horse, Nix, got extremely agitated around cigarette smoke so he cut back on the habit, which lead him to discover what it was doing to his psyche.
John is now trying to quit completely, but even though he’s smoking less than before he can’t quite break the habit. Whenever he’s around people he’ll distribute all his cigarettes to everyone out of guilt so he doesn’t end up smoking them all himself, but, sure enough, he always ends up buying another pack.
Additional Information:
Occupation: Mounted Patrol Officer for the St. Louis Metropolitan Police Department.
Socioeconomic Status: Lower Middle Class.
Education: High School Graduate.
Weapon of Choice: Police issue Smith and Wesson .38 M10 Police Revolver.
Car/Vehicle/Mode of Transport: His horse, preferably (see Pets). When he’s off duty, John makes do with public transport or grabs lifts from people.
Special Skills: Misc police related skills and a few horse ones. He knows enough about veterinary medicine to look after his horse if it gets injured in the line of duty, and his father taught him to do horseshoeing. He also has a good eye for suspicious type folks.
Languages Spoken: English, with a Georgian accent. That's 'southern', not 'redneck'.
Known Accomplices:
Blood Relatives:
MOTHER – Edith Martha Sterling née Bishop
FATHER – Robert Elijah Sterling
ELDEST BROTHER – Nathan Sterling. Killed in Action.
OLDER BROTHER – Henry Sterling
YOUNGER BROTHER – Daniel Sterling
YOUNGEST SISTER – Lily Sterling
Romantic Partner: Julia Macy Sterling née Bradford – Deceased.
Other:
FRIEND - Ryan Charlie McArthur (See file 561868; MCARTHUR, RYAN CHARLIE)
Ryan and John have maintained a friendship since school days. Ryan’s the one in charge of the two and John tends to get swept up in his whirlwind. They get on well enough, but John’s not really sure why they’re still friends because they live such radically different lives. The fact Ryan might only keep in touch with him for his ties to the police is a thought John tries to keep out of his mind.
Pets: Nix, his issued police mount for the last four months. He’s a five year old gelding, bay in colour, standing at 16hh and is a thoroughbred ex-racehorse just out of police training.
John suspects that Nix was at one point owned by an alcoholic, seeing as every time there’s a raid on a speakeasy the horse tries to drink from the smashed barrels. He’ll also pick up any alcohol bottle you leave near him, but he has a certain liking for a brand of whiskey called 'Vat 69' and can recognise it by sight.
Past Offences:
Birth Place: Georgia, U.S.A
History: John was born and raised in a rural property in the northeast of Georgia. Big sprawling land, about 10 miles to the nearest hint of civilisation and dotted with horses, sheep, and the occasional chicken to that got out of the coop.
There wasn’t much to note about John’s childhood. He lived in a large family, his two older brothers went to fight in WW1 but only one made it back. He stayed home to help at the farm and insisted on completing his education. When Prohibition hit, John’s alcohol-loving father started making a tidy little profit running moonshine out of the barn with John assisting with the bootlegging. It would go a bit to explain why he’s so lax about Prohibition these days and considers it a lost cause.
He was married off at just 19 to an equally young, pretty girl named Julia Bradford. He and his wife lived a cosy little life together for three years until they went into the city to visit friends and she was killed in a car crash. She was eight months pregnant. John still gets nervous when he has to get into a car. Unable to live in the same house with so many memories, John left everything behind and moved to St. Louis. Julia always wanted to go to St. Louis...
Still, what did some country idiot know about life in the city? John knew two things: guns and horses, so ending up in the mounted police was a lucky break for him. At least there he could put his skills to some use, even if he tends to overlook more than he should. He’s not a terrible cop by any means, he just needs to lay off having mobsters as friends.
RP Sample:
The sky was dreary and overcast, hinting at more incoming rain later in the evening, but that was just a small detail against what had otherwise been a productive day. 100 proof ‘coffee’ in the morning, a business deal after breakfast, successful cargo load arriving in the afternoon with only a minor hiccup, and Silas had even managed to get his groceries done. Mob Bosses still needed to eat, even if all he bought was canned food these days.
Oh, and there was a body in the car; the aforementioned ‘hiccup’. Couldn’t go forgetting about that one.
Hey, it wasn’t his fault if some railway worker was daft enough to actually open one of the boxes of cargo to check if they really carried oranges and not, say, imported rum from Boston. He didn’t force the railway worker to try and tell all of his superiors either, or to turn down a decent sum to shut the fuck up. He must have been a new guy. In any case, Silas had been quick to let Ed nip that one in the bud, so problem solved. He’d even allowed Ed go home after that, how nice was he?
Silas continued to drive further into Laclede’s Landing and a familiar old brick warehouse came into view. It wasn’t the most attractive or populated of locations, but that was why it suited so well. Silas could hardly finish off a round of grocery shopping without chucking in some bootleg liquor next to the tinned peaches, and there in the Still Water Gang’s storage warehouse he could get a crate of the stuff for free. Some of the ‘pedestrians’ – enforcers stuck with the banal job of guard duty – stiffened as they heard the car approach. The sight of Abraham Grey’s familiar Hudson Essex arriving made them relax again. Abe mustn’t have reported it stolen yet.
Yes, Silas had made off with Abe’s car. What? He had an excuse! His own vehicle was still getting the bullet holes in the door fixed, and if Abe was silly enough to leave his keys lying around, Silas wasn’t going to be held accountable. Wasn’t a bad ride actually; the engine had a good amount of kick. The only nitpick was it lacked a trunk1, so the corpse in the back was just rolling around on the floor. Eh, who was going to look? He’d thrown a blanket over it, that would do.
Silas signalled and one of the men quickly scurried to get the nearest warehouse door open. The car dove in slowly, and Silas leaned forwards to inspect the piles of wooden boxes for the ones he was after. The small crates he wanted seemed to have been stacked near the front, so Silas pulled the car up along beside it. After putting it into park he hopped out to investigate, slamming the door shut behind him a little too hard. There had better be something strong to be found around there. The last import of Pale Ale had been nothing short of pathetic.
The smell of the warehouse hit him and Silas wrinkled his nose disapprovingly. Soaked wood and moisture. To be expected seeing as the last shipment had come in drenched with water, but that didn’t mean he had to appreciate it. Probably a dead rat in there too somewhere, you could never tell with what came in from the Mississippi.
Now, where the fuck was the whiskey?
From Borrowed Without Permission on Meet Me In St. Louis.
Oh, and there was a body in the car; the aforementioned ‘hiccup’. Couldn’t go forgetting about that one.
Hey, it wasn’t his fault if some railway worker was daft enough to actually open one of the boxes of cargo to check if they really carried oranges and not, say, imported rum from Boston. He didn’t force the railway worker to try and tell all of his superiors either, or to turn down a decent sum to shut the fuck up. He must have been a new guy. In any case, Silas had been quick to let Ed nip that one in the bud, so problem solved. He’d even allowed Ed go home after that, how nice was he?
Silas continued to drive further into Laclede’s Landing and a familiar old brick warehouse came into view. It wasn’t the most attractive or populated of locations, but that was why it suited so well. Silas could hardly finish off a round of grocery shopping without chucking in some bootleg liquor next to the tinned peaches, and there in the Still Water Gang’s storage warehouse he could get a crate of the stuff for free. Some of the ‘pedestrians’ – enforcers stuck with the banal job of guard duty – stiffened as they heard the car approach. The sight of Abraham Grey’s familiar Hudson Essex arriving made them relax again. Abe mustn’t have reported it stolen yet.
Yes, Silas had made off with Abe’s car. What? He had an excuse! His own vehicle was still getting the bullet holes in the door fixed, and if Abe was silly enough to leave his keys lying around, Silas wasn’t going to be held accountable. Wasn’t a bad ride actually; the engine had a good amount of kick. The only nitpick was it lacked a trunk1, so the corpse in the back was just rolling around on the floor. Eh, who was going to look? He’d thrown a blanket over it, that would do.
Silas signalled and one of the men quickly scurried to get the nearest warehouse door open. The car dove in slowly, and Silas leaned forwards to inspect the piles of wooden boxes for the ones he was after. The small crates he wanted seemed to have been stacked near the front, so Silas pulled the car up along beside it. After putting it into park he hopped out to investigate, slamming the door shut behind him a little too hard. There had better be something strong to be found around there. The last import of Pale Ale had been nothing short of pathetic.
The smell of the warehouse hit him and Silas wrinkled his nose disapprovingly. Soaked wood and moisture. To be expected seeing as the last shipment had come in drenched with water, but that didn’t mean he had to appreciate it. Probably a dead rat in there too somewhere, you could never tell with what came in from the Mississippi.
Now, where the fuck was the whiskey?
From Borrowed Without Permission on Meet Me In St. Louis.
Suspect Affiliation:
Out of Character Information[/b]
Name: Illu
Age: 18
Other Characters: Silas Moran, Vivian Nazarova[/font][/font][/blockquote]