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Backstory of the spaneesh man! Cortezzz!
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Backstory of the spaneesh man! Cortezzz!
Raining like negus outside, nothing to do, lets come up with a backstory as we go.
For meh citizen RP char Cortez Cardenal.
Holy fuck Ive been writing for two hours.
Break time.
Continueing later.
And yes, Cortez is my blind char guy.
WHOOAAA COINCIDENCE.
For meh citizen RP char Cortez Cardenal.
- Spain:
- Spain. A country full of rich traditions and culture, and roots in all places of history. The Cardenal family (Pronounced Car-Den-ayl not car-den-ul the bird. Car-den-ayl cus hes fugging spanish!!!) just had their first child, and gave him the name Cortez. Cortez was named after one of his fathers friends, a strong and quiet seaman, always deep in thought. Cortez grew up with 1 brother, and 1 sister. Being the oldest, he could usually get away with many things, his parents never really had experience with children. His father, while a smart man, made any money could however he could. He worked at the docks a few miles from where Cortez lived, walking every morning, for the poor family didn't own a car. His job was unloaded imported goods and wares. He would steal pocketfulls of spices or a bag of fish, and even pickpocket the merchants coming to pick up their goods when given the chance. Father felt he should be rewarded for his 'hard work', therfore some of the money went to a drink or two. The rest would go to the familys food, and their education. Cortez's mother was very smart, a calm collective person. She stayed home and took care of the 3 children. When Cortez reached the age of eight, his parents decided it was time to send him to school. He didn't want to go, he loved helping his mother, and working with his dad at the docks, learning the ways of smart thievery. It was exciting to steal, and it felt good rather than bad; he knew he was helping his family. He was in bed one night, overhearing a conversation about what school to send him to. It turned into a loud fight about money. Cortez understood that only two of the children would ever be able to get a decent education. Learning all about life from his mother since he could speak, Cortez was smart for his age. He was a natural deep thinker, a wanderer, a dreamer. He wouldn't have his younger siblings miss education, he wanted them to be something. They wouldn't have to learn to steal like he did. And besides...Cortez, enjoyed stealing. Rich merchants would never miss something that could fit in his pocket. But he wouldn't tell his parents he planned to make a living by stealing. He had heard many things about a great nation far away called america. Where a giant green stone guardian protected all the ships in a place called New York, where the buildings broke through the clouds, and where everyone was rich and free. He wanted to go here, to see the sights, to become rich like everyone else, and send money back to his family. He would, he could. Cortez was independent, happy to be on his own. He proposed his wish to his family. At first they were shocked, and would never send him to such a place alone. Then his father thought, and said they should let Cortez follow what he wants, it would be good for all of us. Americans take care of children there. His mother protested the idea for quite some time, but finally gave in, knowing its what her son truly wanted, and to America he would go. As soon as he turned 12, that is.
- The Stone Guardian:
- He preferred the sea anyway. There wasn't money for a plane ticket- Good. Nothing beat the slow cool rolling winds, or the tangy smell of salt, or the endless blue waters, and the steady rocking back and forth so your never truly standing still. He was on a boat with many other children, most of them much older. 15,16, one was 18. They shared many of his dreams, to help their familys in this new land of greatness. They took Cortez as their little brother, one with spirit and courage, and admired him for how young he was and still leaving his family. Cortez wasn't entirely sure this trip to America was legal halfway through. The captain talked of "Making sure to arrive at night" and "Be ready to blow the lights out, they look for those." Then again, Cortez was used to 'Illegal.' The silence at sea was amazing. Watching the birds, seeing the schools of fish swim along the boat, it gave him time to just think. What was at the bottom of the sea? Why are fish the way they are? Why are some blue and others silver? Do they think as well? What do they see humans as? His mind was endlessly working. Then came the night the Captain ordered them to blow out all the candles burning on the ship. Complete darkness, the water was black, and the moon reflected on the glass waves. He saw lights ahead, orange, yellow, red, blue...some miles into the sky. In the distance, he saw the shadow of the "Green stone guardian", holding something high into the air, as if welcoming the small boat. The boat veered away from the statue, steering into an area with less lights. As they got closer, they approached a beach littered with trash. Clothes, plastic, rocky debrees, brown water, dead fish...what had happened here? The boat clunked onto the shore, and rocked in the calm water. The 6 children jumped down, and the captain walked to the front of the boat. "Here you are my friends, New York." Said the captain. "Remember your maps, and the names of your orphanages. I'm sorry it's time for us to split up, but your own your own now. Remember, Pablo, Sanje, and Alexander- Your heading to the Maryweather orphanage. Alexander, Cortez, and Francais; St. Heathers. Good luck, act your best so they believe you. And do not get caught! Push the boat back for me would you?" And so the six did, and the captain road along the beach into the night, waving goodbye, off to resupply probably. They looked at each other in the dark, and said their goodbyes. It was a shame they had to split up, but 6 very different looking orphans would be too unbelievable. The two groups set off in their own directions, swiftly into the night.
- All is well, for now.:
- The orphanage was run by a very old religious lady, and her few helpers. She was kind and caring, and always attempted to set her children on the right path. She took the story of the three, their parents were murdered in the slums of some place called "Harlem", and they were sent here. She didn't question them about it. The group lived in Manhatten, with several other children from all around this place. Some were black, others white, a few even Spanish, and others mexican. Cortez stuck to his two friends from the boat mostly. There was some sort of feud between the white children and the black, but he never understood it. Life was excellent in the city. He didn't have to go to school, for the orphanage was required to provide 'education', nothing more than a few math lessons a day and the religious lady reading a few books. Cortez spent most of his time with Alex and Francais, getting into trouble in the city. They would make smart plans to steal what they needed to. Francais would approach a hotdog vendor from behind, ask directions for a building, while cortez and alex took as many things they could from the vendors cart and hid them in their backpacks. Other times they would pickpocket those with big coats called "Trenchcoats", very easy to steal from. And America had huge stores were no one watched what people were doing called "Malls". They simply walked into a clothes store, went into a changing room, put their clothes into their backpacks, put the store clothes on, and left. They made so much money, were never hungry or cold, and were good at all the thieving they did. It was great here. And when cortez had a little extra, he could mail some back to his family, and they'd write back, saying his siblings were doing well in school and everything was fine. But it wouldn't be fine forever. Cortez reached the age of 15, and Alex 18. Alex was forced to leave the orphanage because of his age. Neither Sanje or Cortez felt like splitting up again. They had to decide. Alex encouraged them to stay, make the most of the safety of the place. But It would only be another year until Sanje had to leave, and three for Cortez. They would go with him. They made no attempt to sneak out, simply picked up their belongings and left, before anyone knew the were gone. Alex thanked them for their loyalty. Sanje said only together would life be okay here, Cortez agreed. Alex had heard from local thugs in manhatten that life was easy in Harlem for those smart enough. Money to be made in drugs. Gangs with guns with people even younger than Cortez, who protected their members. The idea appealed to the older two, but Cortez felt this was wrong. The 'gangs' here seemed different...violent. But he wouldn't speak against the older two, and on foot to Manhatten with their suitcased they went.
- Gang Land:
They set foot onto a very old street, the yellow dividing spray paint faded in patches, cracks and bumps littered the empty street. Cars were line up by the sidewalks, some with cracked windows, some had spraypainted things on them. The sidewalks were full of weeds, and connected to the small patches of grass meant to be yards in the small brick houses lined in rows. Hooded figures watched the three move along the street with their suitcases from their porches. They were being watched by what seemed like hundreds of eyes. Police sirens whaled in the distance. They got to the corner of the street, simply looking around for something to do, somewehre to go. Cortez was lagging behind the older two, not by much, but he liked to look at everything. Every car, every bump, crack, face, house. He was very observant. The older two turned the corner of the street, moments later, he heard a man shout in a hissing voice. He peeked around the corner of a building. A young white man, in his 20's maybe, wearing a black hood with a brown beard was aiming a small shiny black object at them. "Drop the bags! Now you greasy fucks!" he hissed. The two took their time, some to stare at him, and slowly began to set them down. Cortez had a different plan. He dove behind the endless wall of parked cars, and slid his way around the corner...closer to the man...closer. He heard the gun click. "OPEN 'EM UP!" he ordered. Cortez opened something up behind the car. Not a bag, oh no, a shiny clean pocket knife with a wooden handle. It flipped open. It shined in the sun. He was warned about this. Gang members. Thugs. Robbers. Could he actually kill someone? This would be huge. But it was that man, or his two only friends. Cortez decided. He slid out in front of one of the cars, quietly, approaching the man. He raised his knife, grasped in his right hand. Sanjes eyes met Cortez's. The man must have noticed the look over his shoulder. The man turned around, pointing the gun as the Knife came down. Alex fixed Sanjes error- he kicked the mans foot out from under him, he lost his footing, the gun fired upward, the man fell straight back, and down the knife plunged.
Cortez hadn't meant for it to go in his throat.
But it did.
He sputterd and cough and let blood out from his mouth, writhing and twisting. Cortez wiped the bloody knife on the mans black coat, instinctively. What had he just done? He was shaking. He wobbled to a stand, watched Alex and Sanje close their bags. Alex took the mans gun. "Jesus Cortez" Alex whispered...a mix of fright and pride.
"You actually did it...we...we need to go. We can talk later, we have to get away from him!" Alex explained.
They moved, ran, only 1 block away before someone stopped them. A skinny short spanish man with a black moustache. "Ey...you three, in here! C'mon!" He said, loudly yet...kindly?
They didn't want another murder, they listened.
"One of us saw that, kid. Brutal, crazy...amazing. Clean kill, too. Police don't even know yet, nothing left behind. Good shit." the man mumured. They walked into a dark alley, two large brick buildings on each side, where they got to a stareway that led down. The man opened a steel door, held it open as the three entred, and shut it. The place smelled of cigars and alcohol. They walked through a room full of metal shelves and boxes, and into a wooden bar room. Seated at a circular table were about 8 men, All dark skinned, spanish or mexican, they all looked up, some with snarling smiles, some with dissapointment, one with a crooked interested look.
"The fuck Oslo, bringin' us kids now?" One joked.
"This is the one 'Stello saw. Who killed the cream puff just now. Says sirens just started up." preached 'Oslo' Proudly.
"So...you're a lit'l killer ain'tcha' boy?" another man said.
Cortez stared. He was scared, but didn't show it. Never show it.
"You'll fit riiiiiight in kid...whats your name?" Said Cuchillo, the leader.
- Invasion:
The three joined a war held inside a city. A racial fight, and a fight for profit. The gang they had joined was named "Sangre Denero". Blood Money. They fought a gang of white men, called Green Rift. They both marketed drugs. The Denero's got theirs from personal friends in mexico. They fought for their little chunk of harlem, with guns, knives, whatever they had. The three were in this gang for 3 years. Cortez was 18, Sanje 19, and Alex 21. Cortez learned the city, the slangs, the streets. His natural thieving was valued highly. He made alot of money for the gang, always avoided police. He was talented with a rifle he had 'Earned' from one of the green rift members. Memberes came and went, most going through death. Friends were temporary in the gang, but with the added 3, the Sangre Denero seemed to be winning. Life was once again whole, The streets of new york were a play ground, Green Rift members targets for the taking. All the while, money still going to his family. But nothing well lasts forever. The change everyone would know, something that even cortez couldnt outsmart.
A warehouse raid was scheduled for today. Green Rift stockpiled about 200 Pounds of Majuana in an old auto industry warehouse. Sange Denero would make sure it never left. The gang took places. Cortez climbed a fire escape to the top of an old brick building. One with a chimeny and a door that led to the roof. He looked through the black scope of his wooden rifle, an M14. Two members of the other gang smoked cigarettes by a big garage door, one in a black beanie, the other with his hood up. Their heads made a perfect circle around the center of his crosshair. But they weren't his job. He saw Alex peer around the corner of the building down below. He twirled a knife in his gloved hand, and through it. Down went beanie head. The hooden man reached for his waist, then sprang in Chuchillo with a black blade in his hand. Down goes hood man. They dragged the two into darkness. A flip phone in Cortez's pocket buzzed. "Alright Carterista (Cortez's gang name, it meant pickpocket) see anything?" Cuchillo whispered.
"No Chillo, go ahead. It's clear." Said Cortez.
They hung up.
The garage door slowly began to grind open. It would never open all the way, though.
Cortez wasn't watching the sky, he didn't think he'd have to.
For the oddest reason, his hears started whistling. Everything was becoming blue.
What was going on? "I've been around the drugs too long..." He thought.
He blinked hard, again, shaked his head, opened his eyes to...
The warehouse was rubble. A thundering echoing crash shook him. He fell to his side, his rifle smacked against the brick building and fell by him. Blue orbs of light, falling from the sky, all over, down...again...again...crash...boom...the building he was on shook. He needed to get down. Quick. He bolted down the firescape, rifle in hand, clang clang clang. He stayed in the alleys, looking at the warehouse. No bodies. The rubble was smoking, blue pools of...something...sizzled. He looked up. Brown things carrying black containers...bugs? Flying in the sky? What was happening? He had to get back to the hideout. Sanje was there, Alex...maybe he...escaped. He ran, past people running down the street, he saw corpses, buildings were breaking off parts, fences were being ripped apart...
He ripped open the metal door and slammed it shut. Everyone was ripping at the shelves, pulling out guns. His eyes spotted Sanje, his face was pale.
"Chuchillo...A-alex..." Panted Cortez.
Everyone stopped, looked.
"Their...dead...n-nothing left."
The room paused, other than the shaking ground.
"Not in vein, then." A member said.
"We don't even know whats happening?! Aren't we safe here?" One protested.
"No. It's the Government. Or the russians. Somethings happening, we are going to fight it."
The rest agreed, they cleaned out the shelves, and dove back outside. Out in the street was chaos. Police cruisers were slammed into houses, officers were firing at...3 legged things...and soldiers with blue uniforms, bulky and tall. The gang members fired at anything they couldn't recognise. Back and forth the fire flew. They were being shot at by blue bullets, they melted away the walls they struck behind the gang. They tried to hide behind cars and rubble, the large soldiers refused to fall, the three legged creature jumped and tackled someone. One soldier dead, 3 gang members...2...6...4..8...whos-
And Sanje fell backward. Cortez stopped. Looked.
Aimed.
Through the scope, the crosshair was on the eye of a soldier, and the soldier pointed a black gun at him. Its gun hissed, loudly, a yellow ball flew at Cortez, blindingly bright, he saw it through his scope, his eyes snapped shut and he fired. He heard a hissing noise,a beeping...something about a signal getting lost...he couldn't open his eyes. Darkness, silence...
Nothing.
Holy fuck Ive been writing for two hours.
Break time.
Continueing later.
And yes, Cortez is my blind char guy.
WHOOAAA COINCIDENCE.
Last edited by Noobstrike on Sun Dec 01, 2013 9:41 pm; edited 1 time in total
Noobstrike- Super Admin
- Posts : 624
Join date : 2012-08-20
Age : 26
Location : In a size 8976394379209 shoebox.
Re: Backstory of the spaneesh man! Cortezzz!
Thee guys must have crappy guns, or bad shootin skeelz if they cant take down just one OWS trololol.
Either way kick ass backstory.
I WAN MOAR
Either way kick ass backstory.
I WAN MOAR
Jaquecz- Posts : 494
Join date : 2013-01-09
Age : 26
Location : CANADA
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