Denmark [WIP it good!]

[Frannie]

You want to tell me what this is all about?

[VERY much a Work-In-Progress!]
(I'll be adding to this as I get time and think of things..)


Name: Mathias Johanssen (LIKE A BOSS)
Street Name: Denmark (I'll add more nicknames as he gets them)
Age: 22 (mebbe? )
Bitch or Homie: Bitch please! Watchoo think?
Where you from?: Copenhagen, Denmark

Whatchoo do?: (Occupation) - You mean I have to get a "real" job in this city?
(Owner/employee of a chop shop/Auto parts/motorcycle dealership )

Who you be reppin?: (Affiliation)
Gang Name: The Vikings
Colors: White w/ Red or Blue
Tat: Nordic Cross (sideways, unequal-armed cross)
Tags: Nordic crosses, skulls w/ crossed axes
Sign: ("V for Victory?" xDD)
Allies: (to be added later)
Enemies: (to be added later)
Front: (the cop shop)
Crime Market: Illegal auto parts dealership, custom vehicle mods + paint jobs, unregistered gun trades/deals, general trafficking and transport of illegals, the occasional side contract
Other: Members refer to each other as "family" and "brothers"


How you do: (Personality)

[/li][li] Strong, stubborn, tenacious, pig-headed, thick-skulled, thick-skinned, insensitive, but occasionally exceptionally brilliant
[/li][li]Thoughtless, bubble-brained, a "mimbo" - a male bimbo
[/li][li]Very comfortable with who he is, strong in his own opinions, very adamant about his own moral values
[/li][li]Can be controlling of others, attempt to use brute force to get what he wants, can be kind of scary when he gets out of hand (or really drunk)
[/li][li]Very close to his family and loyal to his crew, and won't hesitate to defend what he feels is just & deserved, but sometimes chooses to stay out of conflicts that don't seem worth the effort/too boring to Mathias

Your thing: (likes)

[/li][li]Hot bikes, fast cars, good music + blondes
[/li][li]Drinking, drinking with friends, trying new drinks, getting drunk
[/li][li]Sweet things, baked goods, fancy candies, cooking

Not your thing: (dislikes)

[/li][li]Thinking too hard, working too hard, when things are not fun, being bored
[/li][li]Insubordinate employees (minus himself), disloyal family members
[/li][li]Being put in his place, disrespected


What you been through: (History, at least 100 words)



Other shit:




Show us what you got: (RP sample)
300 words minimum

[Frannie]

Show us what you got: (RP sample)
300 words minimum


This is more fun than the blonde Nordic has had in ages, wrenching strange and vile creatures limb from limb through the strength of his own hand. Mathias muses to himself that it's rather easier to rip the arm off a zombie than a dragon or wyvern or any of the other mess of strange creatures that used to plague the Northern countrysides in more glorious days. "Tenacious little bastards..," he mutters with dark glee, throwing the loosed limb in his hand at another rotting corpse trying to close in on him just before the head gets shattered to a pulp right in front of his face. It's too close of a call for the Dane, even if he trusts Tino's skills as a sniper enough to not hit him. It's the blood that he's worried about - not so much because it is ruining the hem of his favoured coal-coloured trenchcoat - but because his Boss has told him to be careful when he's out hunting in the wilderness for hungry monsters. He isn't smart enough to comprehend the complicated science behind the logic, but Mathias is able to understand simple conclusions like "Don't get bit or scratched." So as glorious as it would be to keep trying to punch zombies in their rotting jaws to send them flying off into the air, the risks of close combat start to outweigh the desire to get his fists wet, so to speak.
With the front end of his ax thrust forward to keep the most energetic of the attackers at bay, Mathias
reaches a filth-flecked leather glove inside his jacket to extract a small handgun. "Let's see how you like eating lead," he snarls in the most clichéd of lines and pumps off a few bullets into the head cavities of two of the corpses, having them crumple to the ground. "I promise it's as sweet as Scandinavian steel." He gives them a taste of that, too, shoving the sharpened tip of his ax-end like a pike forward until he can hear ribs crack. Then retreats a few paces up the incline of the terrain with one arm locked in extension to shoot off a delaying burst and the other retrieving his weapon with an awful squelching and crunching sound on a trek for higher terrain.