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Mar. 2nd, 2013 06:44 pmName: Tim
DW username: N/A
E-Mail: MatrixxH@gmail.com
IM: Total Rix
Other Characters: Chihiro Fujisaki![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
petabytes
Character Name: Roark "Rocky" Rickaby
Series: Lackadaisy
Timeline: Not long after his appearance in "Lackadaisy Homestead"
Canon Resource Link: lackadaisycats.com
Character Background: Jazz violinist, rum runner, escape artist, errant vagabond, amateur poet, and professional troublemaker, Roark "Rocky" Rickaby has acquired as many dubiously honorable titles as he has self-inflicted injuries. Since departing his home due to a turbulent family situation (which he had a not insignificant part in causing), Rocky has done everything he could to make ends meet, bouncing from city to city and job to job.
His most recent and steady line of work has been as a violinist in a jazz band employed by the Lackadaisy, a once-popular St. Louis speakeasy built in the limestone caves running underneath the business's scrupulous-looking front, the Little Daisy Cafe. Once the premier destination for drink in a nation sucked dry by the eighteenth amendment, the Lackadaisy fell on hard times with the suspicious death of founder Atlas May, losing much of its clientele and more of its crew. Now under the employ of Mitzi May, Atlas's widow and Rocky's combination muse and patron, Rocky graduated from mere band member to "runner", taking it upon himself to retrieve precious libations from their many distribution channels and deliver the precious cargo in once piece to be purchased and enjoyed by the Lackadaisy's few remaining regulars.
Despite his enthusiasm and willingness to do anything to please Mitzi, his "Lady Dionysus", Rocky proves to be rather ineffectual at keeping his cargo and his own body well-defended, losing his shipment to a group of rowdy pig farmers and nearly getting run over by a train for his trouble. Narrowly escaping with his life, his plans only further backfire when his vengeance-fueled arson of the pig farmers' home and private still cause them to come seeking comeuppance, suspiciously well-equipped with automatic firearms.
The ensuing scuffle puts a few holes in the Lackadaisy's disgruntled bartender and breaks up a potentially lucrative gathering of would-be investors, further cementing Rocky's failure at doing his sworn duty. Eager to make up for his mistakes, Rocky conscripts his soft spoken, wide-eyed cousin, Calvin "Freckle" McMurray, to join them as his "hired muscle", after he displayed his prowess with firearms and hidden enthusiasm for slaughter during the raid.
In defiance of his many failures and shortcomings, Rocky retains a sing-song demeanor and bottomless enthusiasm, tempered with a mixture of genius and idiocy that can't be well explained, much less understood. His literate, poetic locutions provides contrast to his blatant disregard for his own well-being and inability to plan more than a short time ahead, but through a combination of gumption, luck, improvisation, and a desperate need for approval, Rocky still draws breath and manages to accomplish something resembling his goals a good portion of the time.
Abilities/Special Powers: Rocky doesn't have any abnormal abilities beyond his ability to improvise, his high pain tolerance, and the luck bestowed upon him by his "lucky tie". He has a wide variety of skills from his various professions, but should not be trusted with firearms, as the hole in his earlobe will indicate.
Third-Person Sample: Rocky breathes deeply, a toothy smile soon spreading over his face. It's a crisp spring evening in St. Louis, the kind of evening that's perfect for getting out of the "house" (or car, as it were), stretching one's limbs, and going for a stroll along the banks of the old Mississippi River. As many euphemisms are tossed around in reference to the elixir that the fine establishment he calls his workplace peddles to the needy public, sometimes it takes the vapors coming off some good, old-fashioned literal river water to really clear one's head.
Coming across a lonely, abandoned pier, long forgotten by some nondescript mariners of the past, Rocky seems himself drawn to traverse the rickety planks, listening to the grumbled tales of ships past that the salty planks creaked out to him beneath his feet. Stepping up to perch atop a pillar, he casts his gaze across the river's surface, seeing the light of the moon play across the rippling water - it's enough to make him want wax poetic to nobody in particular.
First things first, however - seeing that the next pillar down the pier is not an unreasonable distance away, Rocky is immediately struck by the need to test his reflexes by nimbly leaping from pillar to pillar - a test that he immediately fails, a failure marked by a loud splash sprinkled with bouts of embarrassed laughter.
First-Person Sample: Ah, well, you see, it's not so much that I've resigned myself to counting out the rest of my numbered days here in this realm - I see it more as just another leg of that great Odyssey called life! You have to admit, there's something, ah, particularly Homeric about the whole situation, isn't there? The way I understand it, we even have our own Scylla and/or Charybdis acting as our oceanic gatekeeper! I don't know what sacred cows I slaughtered to wind up here, but needless to say, I don't intend to spend whatever time I'll be ensnared by our mutual Calypso just sulking about!
DW username: N/A
E-Mail: MatrixxH@gmail.com
IM: Total Rix
Other Characters: Chihiro Fujisaki
petabytes Character Name: Roark "Rocky" Rickaby
Series: Lackadaisy
Timeline: Not long after his appearance in "Lackadaisy Homestead"
Canon Resource Link: lackadaisycats.com
Character Background: Jazz violinist, rum runner, escape artist, errant vagabond, amateur poet, and professional troublemaker, Roark "Rocky" Rickaby has acquired as many dubiously honorable titles as he has self-inflicted injuries. Since departing his home due to a turbulent family situation (which he had a not insignificant part in causing), Rocky has done everything he could to make ends meet, bouncing from city to city and job to job.
His most recent and steady line of work has been as a violinist in a jazz band employed by the Lackadaisy, a once-popular St. Louis speakeasy built in the limestone caves running underneath the business's scrupulous-looking front, the Little Daisy Cafe. Once the premier destination for drink in a nation sucked dry by the eighteenth amendment, the Lackadaisy fell on hard times with the suspicious death of founder Atlas May, losing much of its clientele and more of its crew. Now under the employ of Mitzi May, Atlas's widow and Rocky's combination muse and patron, Rocky graduated from mere band member to "runner", taking it upon himself to retrieve precious libations from their many distribution channels and deliver the precious cargo in once piece to be purchased and enjoyed by the Lackadaisy's few remaining regulars.
Despite his enthusiasm and willingness to do anything to please Mitzi, his "Lady Dionysus", Rocky proves to be rather ineffectual at keeping his cargo and his own body well-defended, losing his shipment to a group of rowdy pig farmers and nearly getting run over by a train for his trouble. Narrowly escaping with his life, his plans only further backfire when his vengeance-fueled arson of the pig farmers' home and private still cause them to come seeking comeuppance, suspiciously well-equipped with automatic firearms.
The ensuing scuffle puts a few holes in the Lackadaisy's disgruntled bartender and breaks up a potentially lucrative gathering of would-be investors, further cementing Rocky's failure at doing his sworn duty. Eager to make up for his mistakes, Rocky conscripts his soft spoken, wide-eyed cousin, Calvin "Freckle" McMurray, to join them as his "hired muscle", after he displayed his prowess with firearms and hidden enthusiasm for slaughter during the raid.
In defiance of his many failures and shortcomings, Rocky retains a sing-song demeanor and bottomless enthusiasm, tempered with a mixture of genius and idiocy that can't be well explained, much less understood. His literate, poetic locutions provides contrast to his blatant disregard for his own well-being and inability to plan more than a short time ahead, but through a combination of gumption, luck, improvisation, and a desperate need for approval, Rocky still draws breath and manages to accomplish something resembling his goals a good portion of the time.
Abilities/Special Powers: Rocky doesn't have any abnormal abilities beyond his ability to improvise, his high pain tolerance, and the luck bestowed upon him by his "lucky tie". He has a wide variety of skills from his various professions, but should not be trusted with firearms, as the hole in his earlobe will indicate.
Third-Person Sample: Rocky breathes deeply, a toothy smile soon spreading over his face. It's a crisp spring evening in St. Louis, the kind of evening that's perfect for getting out of the "house" (or car, as it were), stretching one's limbs, and going for a stroll along the banks of the old Mississippi River. As many euphemisms are tossed around in reference to the elixir that the fine establishment he calls his workplace peddles to the needy public, sometimes it takes the vapors coming off some good, old-fashioned literal river water to really clear one's head.
Coming across a lonely, abandoned pier, long forgotten by some nondescript mariners of the past, Rocky seems himself drawn to traverse the rickety planks, listening to the grumbled tales of ships past that the salty planks creaked out to him beneath his feet. Stepping up to perch atop a pillar, he casts his gaze across the river's surface, seeing the light of the moon play across the rippling water - it's enough to make him want wax poetic to nobody in particular.
First things first, however - seeing that the next pillar down the pier is not an unreasonable distance away, Rocky is immediately struck by the need to test his reflexes by nimbly leaping from pillar to pillar - a test that he immediately fails, a failure marked by a loud splash sprinkled with bouts of embarrassed laughter.
First-Person Sample: Ah, well, you see, it's not so much that I've resigned myself to counting out the rest of my numbered days here in this realm - I see it more as just another leg of that great Odyssey called life! You have to admit, there's something, ah, particularly Homeric about the whole situation, isn't there? The way I understand it, we even have our own Scylla and/or Charybdis acting as our oceanic gatekeeper! I don't know what sacred cows I slaughtered to wind up here, but needless to say, I don't intend to spend whatever time I'll be ensnared by our mutual Calypso just sulking about!
