okay: starting. I'll go for Apathy, since it seems like no-one will choose it.
this WILL be unfinished for now, but think of it as my prototype.
this WILL be unfinished for now, but think of it as my prototype.
Name: Mr. James Arling, esquire
Age and DOB: 35, born October 1883, died January 1931
Gender:Male
Race and Background: part Anglo-Saxon, part Celtic. Born in London, child of Arthur and Eliza Arling. Grew up in a wealthy and influential family and had a happy-go-lucky, carefree attitude in his youth. At the age of 14, he fell into the wrong crowd and became a succesful career criminal with a disregard for his own life and not a care in the world apart from fun. He lived for the thrill of a robbery or hijacking, but his greatest pleasure was swindling folks out of their money. He had no care for the people who's lives he ruined. Not for the hard-working policemen he shot, not for the people who were forced onto the street, not for the friends he stabbed in the back to gain his empire. In 1914, the start of WWI, he fled to Australia to avoid conscription, losing a lot of his money and power.By this point he had become jaded, leading him to bigger, more audacious cons. He took to the needle and the bottle and aged quickly, still wealthy and succesful, but a life without moderation had taken it's toll. In April, 1920, he moved to America, hoping for one last chance at excitement as the owner of a speakeasy. There, he met a beautiful woman with long, red hair. He fell in love and called her his Little Irish Rose. For a time, he was happy. The liquor business was booming and, for the first time in his life, he had a care apart from his pwn pleasure. But, even then, pleasure was fleating. He lost all his interests, and much of his empire by 1926, at the height of Al Capone's power. He still loved his wife, but began to take her for granted. In 1927, she died and Arling realised he had no pleasures in life. He had no cares in the world and he had no true hapiness. He had lived his life in a carefree state and now his cares were catching up to him. He spent his last years on this earth drinking in his own pubs as his criminal empire collapsed around him until it finally came to an end in 1929, when a rival stormed his last speakeasy and shot him in the chest. For the next year, he drank in Capone's bars, never bothering to live his life. He had done it all, and he wasn't proud. Even at this point, he had no care for what he viewed as his underlings, he only cared about losing his senses, and where his next drink was coming from. In 1929, he collapsed into his first drink of the night. The bartender, concerned, had someone take him to hospital, where he lived the last month of his life in depression. He passed away at 10:00 PM, January 26, 1930, leaving behind nearly no worldly possesions, nor any significant mark.
Personality & Sin: Tired and lazy. Fights greedy and gluttonous urges, but remains apathetic.
Appearance in Purgatory:
How did you die?: Shot by an American Rumrunner in'29. Wound became infected, bedridden by Christmas 1930, comatose for the last two weeks of his life.
Age and DOB: 35, born October 1883, died January 1931
Gender:Male
Race and Background: part Anglo-Saxon, part Celtic. Born in London, child of Arthur and Eliza Arling. Grew up in a wealthy and influential family and had a happy-go-lucky, carefree attitude in his youth. At the age of 14, he fell into the wrong crowd and became a succesful career criminal with a disregard for his own life and not a care in the world apart from fun. He lived for the thrill of a robbery or hijacking, but his greatest pleasure was swindling folks out of their money. He had no care for the people who's lives he ruined. Not for the hard-working policemen he shot, not for the people who were forced onto the street, not for the friends he stabbed in the back to gain his empire. In 1914, the start of WWI, he fled to Australia to avoid conscription, losing a lot of his money and power.By this point he had become jaded, leading him to bigger, more audacious cons. He took to the needle and the bottle and aged quickly, still wealthy and succesful, but a life without moderation had taken it's toll. In April, 1920, he moved to America, hoping for one last chance at excitement as the owner of a speakeasy. There, he met a beautiful woman with long, red hair. He fell in love and called her his Little Irish Rose. For a time, he was happy. The liquor business was booming and, for the first time in his life, he had a care apart from his pwn pleasure. But, even then, pleasure was fleating. He lost all his interests, and much of his empire by 1926, at the height of Al Capone's power. He still loved his wife, but began to take her for granted. In 1927, she died and Arling realised he had no pleasures in life. He had no cares in the world and he had no true hapiness. He had lived his life in a carefree state and now his cares were catching up to him. He spent his last years on this earth drinking in his own pubs as his criminal empire collapsed around him until it finally came to an end in 1929, when a rival stormed his last speakeasy and shot him in the chest. For the next year, he drank in Capone's bars, never bothering to live his life. He had done it all, and he wasn't proud. Even at this point, he had no care for what he viewed as his underlings, he only cared about losing his senses, and where his next drink was coming from. In 1929, he collapsed into his first drink of the night. The bartender, concerned, had someone take him to hospital, where he lived the last month of his life in depression. He passed away at 10:00 PM, January 26, 1930, leaving behind nearly no worldly possesions, nor any significant mark.
Personality & Sin: Tired and lazy. Fights greedy and gluttonous urges, but remains apathetic.
Appearance in Purgatory:
How did you die?: Shot by an American Rumrunner in'29. Wound became infected, bedridden by Christmas 1930, comatose for the last two weeks of his life.
