Description

✫ Full Name ✫
Arabella Putin [pronounced: R-UH-bella]

✫ Gender ✫
Female

✫ Age ✫
20

✫ Sex ✫
Female

✫ Sexuality ✫
Straight

✫ Job ✫
Stage Performer, who sells arms on the side.
On stage she's a Cabaret Singer one minute and a Burlesque Performer the next. But behind the scenes she's also very interested in maintaining and sometimes selling firearms.

✫ Place of Origin/Current Location ✫
Paradise/New Moscow

✫ Likes ✫

The Ocean
Burlesque/Performing
Nightime
Singing
Tai Chi/Yoga
Music
The Piano
Guitars
Dancing
Cigs & Booze
Food

✫ Dislikes ✫

Snobs
Bullies
Jerks
Judgmental people
Ignorant people
Racist
Bimbos
Meatheads
Pushy people
Nosy people

✫ Weight/Body-Type ✫
145lbs/Curvacious

✫ Height ✫
5'10

✫ Eyes ✫
Sky Blue

✫ Hair ✫
A very light blonde, thick, and reaches to the middle of her thighs when out straight.

✫ Body Art ✫
- A full back tattoo of a Geisha with a sword and a peacock by her side.

- Six lobe piercings and two cartilage piercings at the top in both ears, a BB piercing, and a tongue piercing.

✫ Personality ✫

Ara is a street savvy girl whose first concern is herself. With her family being inside Paradise she doesn't have any familial connections in New Moscow and doesn't trust people further than she can throw them.

Very coy Ara excels not only at her job as a performer but at conning men out of drinks and food, however no matter the temptation she has too much pride to take them for all their worth, and is a hard worker at the end of the day. She simply enjoys accepting drinks, food, and perhaps a cigarette or two from a nice gentleman every now and again.

Ara is friendly on the surface but is always suspicious of people she doesn't know, even children if they're above the age of 5. With the KGB and Russian Mafia mentality strong in her family's bloodline still to this day she learned as a child to trust no one completely except herself.

Unabashed by pretty much anything Ara is the type to change her clothes in front of a crowd then talk about a pornographic film in front of a minister as if it was nothing. To her lust, the human form, gore, and so on are all natural parts of life that are as easy to talk about as anything else.

✫ Bio ✫

The great grand-daughter of Russia's former president Vladimir Putin Arabella grew up within Paradise. What was left of her family was nowhere near as powerful as they once were a century ago, however when the governments of the world collapsed the underbelly of society, including the likes of the Russian Mafia, remained, and the Putin's quickly grabbed the reigns.
Wealthy by birth and a member of a family that had a lot of influence within Paradise Ara was destined for a wonderful life - without any fear of running out of money. However the one thing that always seems to come in-between family members reared it's head during Arabella's Junior year at Paradise High - teenage love.

Falling hard for a young boy from a good hardworking family Ara was introduced to a group of people who actually had to work for their stay in Paradise - something she never had to do. Their hard work and dedication to their son fascinated Ara, so much so she ended up spending more and more time over their house.
By her 18th birthday she decided she was going to move in with her boyfriends family, having grown tired of the thugs, crooks, and political hacks her family was riddled with. Her father, a very prideful man, was seething with anger from her decision but couldn't think of any way to stop her.....that is, until her boyfriend turned 18 a couple months later. As an adult her father saw the boy as fair game, and got the board he sat on to separate the boys lease to stay in Paradise from his parents instantly with no grace period.
Having just graduated high school, with no skill, Ara's boyfriend had no money of his own and wasn't aloud to take money from his family to pay for his stay within the city - something Arabella's father knew would happen. So when it came time for him to pay up the boy had nothing, but instead of throwing him out Ara's father offered them a deal - if they both agreed never to see one another again and she came back home to "take up the family business like a good daughter," in return her boyfriend would be aloud to stay with his family within Paradise - a deal he just knew the two couldn't refuse. However when faced with never seeing each other again and Ara being forced to live under her fathers thumb they chose freedom, and told her father that if he threw her boyfriend out she'd leave with him - calling her fathers bluff. Angered her father changed the plans, locked her up, and told the boy to pack his bags for the hovercraft - refusing to let his distraught parents leave with him.

Forever clever Arabella broke out of his prison and raced to the hovercraft she knew the board used to transport people in debt. She'd wait as the line of individuals being evicted were marched into the craft, and once she saw her boyfriend board she'd wait until the very last moment to jump on the closing ramp.
It would be too late to stop the ramp from closing, but not caring if another person wanted to leave the guards on the ground - not realizing it was Ara who had jumped aboard - let the craft take off as planned, and the guards inside - knowing whose daughter she was - simply believed her when she said she was there to personally escort a certain evicted citizen to a location in Valhalla.

When they landed Arabella was thrilled, because despite their forced relocation she would be with her high school sweetheart no matter what her father wanted. However they'd only make it to a transport depot a mile away from the craft before word got to the guards that Ara was fleeing with, as her father put it, an "armed and dangerous criminal."
Such a label caused the guards to grab their guns before chasing after the pair.

Noticing the group of armed men running towards them the young couple hijacked a snowmobile from the depot's guard and took off at full speed - but not before the guards got a shot off.....that pierced her HS love in the heart.

It's been over two years since she fled and she knew her controlling family would send bounty hunters to Valhalla, so instead she decided to go to New Moscow instead after burying her boyfriend - where her Russian would come in handy.
She's hasn't had a run in with a bounty hunter from Paradise since beginning her job at the local Saloon, but she's still incredibly paranoid, always on the look out for one......because while everyone else finds Paradise to be a dream, to her it's a nightmare.

✫ Skills ✫

- Speaks Russian, German, French, and English.

- Classically trained in Ballet within Paradise

- A brilliant performer, from singing to dancing.

- Gun fanatic and moderate expert on artillery. It's the one interest she got, and kept, from her father.

So begins...

Arabella Putin's Story

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The North

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#2013-12-05 03:28:49, as written by ~Lonesome Butterfly~

"Konets!" Ara said to bring the show to an end, before bowing along with two other women and one man who stood beside her on the Saloon's mediocre wooden stage.
Once the curtain fell the small group would disperse from area - all but Ara.
"I need a beer." she muttered, before falling to the floor - still completely dressed her outfit from the cabaret skit they had just performed.
"Beautiful, just beautiful! It is so much like the shows my aunt use to do from the mother country!" a familiar voice would suddenly say above her. Ara opened her eyes to find the Saloons 73 year old owner looking down at her - smoke from the cigar in his hand causing her to instantly pop to her feet and take a few steps backwards.

"Spasibo, bol'shoye spasibo."
She chose to thank him in his native tongue out of respect even though he insisted on using English just to show that he could.
The two would converse for a few minutes about random things before a bartender came up to the pair and informed them that there was a guest waiting for Ara at the bar. She'd attempt to catch a glance of the person across the room by peeking through he curtains, but the standing crowds leaving the stage area made seeing those sitting at the bar impossible.

"Fine fine I'll be there, just let me get comfortable."
As the two men turned to leave she'd remove the frilly sleeves and danglings on her top that she found annoying, revealing a plain white full coverage brassiere. A minute or so later Ara was sitting on an old stool, shoes off, fiddling with a cigarette. She'd take a few puffs before dropping the cancer stick into a nearby ash tray and pulling her headgear off.
"Cherry number 9..." she muttered - a reference to the color lipstick she was wearing - before wiping the make-up off and pulling her thick hair back into a ponytail.
After a few more puffs she'd slide off the stool and slowly make her way from backstage to in front of the main bar - barefoot.

Ara responded to the obnoxious jarring from a few men in the crowd with her usual brashness as she pushed threw them, an even kicked a few touchy feely types in the shins before locating the gent waiting for her - who was about as rough around the edges as they come.

"You requested me?"
"I did. May I have a private show? A firey one at that." he'd ask lightly in a rather emotionless manner.
Knowing what he wanted thanks to the code words used the towering blonde would smirk before picking up his glass and walking towards a storage room - beckoning him to follow.

Once inside the room she'd instruct him to close the door and then promptly take a sip of his Vodka before handing it back to him.
"Now exactly what type of show would you like? A semi-automatic show, or a more classical revolving show?"

Ever since a mob outside the Saloon stood up to a gang of thugs a couple months back Ara and her boss's side business has been a bit slow, so it was a much welcomed surprise to get a second customer in just three days.

The transaction was smooth, as always, and Ara would keep his drink and let him leave the room first - lingering behind for a few minutes before casually walking back up to the bar to inform her boss of their latest purchaser.

Setting

The North

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Character Portrait: Samantha Maria DiCaprio

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#2013-12-06 16:03:36, as written by Robbhus

When the toxic cigar was burned out, Samantha stepped in the door and picked up an ashtray standing by the window and stumped it, rubbing the filter down into the blue glass. There were about twenty other stumped cigarettes of about the same length. It wasn't cheap, tobacco wasn't found all too commonly and filter-smoke was even more uncommon. However, with money, one could buy anything after all. Love, power, longer life, protection. It didn't bother her wallet too much that she could stroll through a 20-pack in a day, not at all. If she ran out of money, she'd simply have to get more, not more complicated than that.

After returning the ashtray to its spot in the windowsill, Samantha hung up the "Back soon" note on the door before walking into the house, up to the third floor. The three-shot rifle was still there, along with the military blade. There was one more box of 50. Caliber shots as well. The shotgun was under the barbench, but it was already loaded and had two more boxes filled with slugs for the weapon. The rifle however, it was hard to get ammunition for because of the high caliber. Most hunting rifles were 31. Cal. because it was liter and more commonly found, plus the bang from the gun wasn't as loud, making hunting easier. It was only the ones that hunted the really big prey that would carry the heavy, long and unpractical 50. caliber rifle, and those hunters barely ever caught anything in a month, but when they first caught anything, they had money for a long time. While she didn't hunt for animals, or maybe she did. Could humans be counted as animals really? Regardless, the rifle either tore off an arm or a leg, or instantly killed the victim, which was the sheer beauty of it.

Before throwing the beautiful, modified gun over her shoulder, she picked up a longer coat, a black one that reached her down to her knees, as well as a fedora in a similar color. As well as that, she switched over to a pair of jeans with a woolen inside she got sewed by a fellow soldier from Paradise. It had been his trick for managing the cold temperatures, and it was hers as well now. Having the handicap of not having bodies created for the cold, other techniques naturally had to be made to not die instantly.

It was colder outside than it had been when she was smoking, or maybe it was just the cigarette that had been heating her. Regardless, it was cold now while it had been warm then, which was a terrible feeling really. The rifle was nearly touching the ground as she walked, due to the long barrel length. However, it didn't touch it, which was the most important after all. Her hands hid in the pockets of the black coat for the heat they provided, though that wasn't a lot.

She quickly made her way through the city and found the place she was looking for. While she really despised saloons in general, she wasn't there for seeing half-naked girls dancing or to get drunk. If I wanted to get drunk I could just get drunk at home and if I wanted to see half naked girls, a quick stroll in what could be counted as the red light district of New Moscow (Without the red lights of course) would have given the same thing.

Samantha entered the room and see at least one half-naked girl, or a Cabaret dancer would probably be a more correct term, by the barbench of the place. It was almost embarrassing to encounter the girl, but then again, there wasn't much else to do. She was after all the only arms dealer she knew of in the city, and despite never having contacted her, she had seen pictures of the girl, and a rough sketch decent enough to tell that it was the correct person. And as well as that, she knew the codeword as well. It'd feel really dumb asking for a private show seeing that they both were females, but there wasn't much else to do really.

"Care for a private show?" She asked with her wallet drawn out, pulling out a bit of "Small change". In other words, it wasn't exactly small bills she was holding in her hand. She put them back in the wallet though and put it aside, looking at the girl with a pretty dead look really, there was practically no emotions in it whatsoever, though that was her real self after all.

Setting

The North

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#2013-12-12 00:50:27, as written by ~Lonesome Butterfly~

A hour or so later there were more regulars than stragglers, an outside of the music and joyful dancing of a few couples the atmosphere was calm enough that Ara would prop herself up on a stool and begin to read an old story her boss, Boris, kept insisting was a classic - Anna Karenina.

"Women...." Ara muttered with a soft laugh as she reached the end of a chapter and closed the book, when she looked up she'd see a group of men dancing to the Traditional Russian tune Boris and a couple others were playing on the small stage. She couldn't help but laugh at the mens horrible attempt at dancing.

"You should take lessons from your wife and son!" she'd shout out to one of the men before pointing to his young child and Wife, who were right in step with the tempo. Someone suggested putting the boy up on the table so all could see, and within seconds the table was rocking back and forth with the boys movements until the song was over, and applause came from nearly everyone watching.

As a new song started up Ara hopped off her stool and poured herself a glass of Vodka - minus the ice. Outside of a few bad drunks and the large crowds that sometimes got a little rowdy she really enjoyed the often jubilant people and hardworking families that frequented the Saloon, it had become like a new family to her, one that she preferred much more than her biological relatives.

"Ey!" one of the other dancers said to her, dropping the "H" off her greeting like most of Russian decent did, as she made her way behind the bar dressed in pair of leggings and a white fitted sweater that matched her furry boots.
"Aren't you suppose to be off now?" the girl asked as she began to search the shelves for something a customer requested.
"Yes, but it's just boring in that empty dark thing I call a home. However I do have some delicious Salmon waiting for me at Hilbito's...."

After finding what she was looking for the girl scurried over to the table she was servicing and Ara made her way back stage, where she'd slide on a pair of jeans, back knee-high boots, and the thick winter coat she brought along with her from Paradise.

"Poka!!" she'd call out to the crowd when she walked from backstage, and the people quickly yelled bye back before she disappeared behind the counter one last time, in a bid to find her backpack.

As she was knelt down Ara heard the door open, and after she grabbed her bag she'd stand to sling it over her shoulder - where she'd come face to face with the bar's latest customer - someone she didn't recognize, but she would still give a slight nod of acknowledgement to the girl before zipping up her coat.

Ara wouldn't take more than two steps to leave before the woman now sitting in front of her muttered "Care for a private show?"

An expression of puzzlement deliberately made it's way on Ara's face as she flipped up her hood. Each customer had their own way of asking for what they wanted but the woman before her was missing a word, which might be acceptable from someone she's familiar with but since the woman wasn't a familiar customer Ara's natural lack of trust kicked in.
"A private show, from a woman?!" she asked with a small smirk. "I'm sorry, you've got the wrong kind of establishment. I can offer you a drink though if you wish. If not, there's a shop with some food that has my name written all over it."
As Ara fiddled with her coats buttons a young teenager came over and asked for a set of napkins, which she gladly handed over. However when he stepped back from the counter his eyes would widen as he looked down.
"Nice! What is that, a shotgun or a rifle?" he'd say, before his date called him back to their table.

Interest peaked Ara would hop up on her stool and peer over the counter.
"Now what is a pretty young woman doing with such a weapon?" she asked as she sat up from the counter. "Never mind don't answer that, innocent faces can be deceiving I suppose....."

There was no one else at the bar at the moment so she felt there was no issue in talking rather bluntly.
"Okay so tell me, what exactly are you looking to do with that?"

Setting

The North

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#2013-12-12 14:17:54, as written by Robbhus

"A private show, for a woman?!" The woman wasn't half bad, at the very least, she had a functioning tongue. First impressions were important after all, though the dancer apparently took it quite serious. Either that, or she was drunk, either worked. The words hit pretty hard and it made Samantha bite her lip in anger, though she calmed herself down rather quickly and decided to not make a big fuzz out of it and pull the woman by her shirt over the barbench. It was almost too tempting, but she managed to calm down.

"Now now, I thought prostitutes worked for those who payed, but I was apparently wrong"

She sighed and rested her elbows on the barbench, leaning forward, her fingers intertwining, letting the girl continue. "I'm sorry, you've got the wrong kind of establishment. I can offer you a drink though if you wish. If not, there's a shop with some food that has my name written all over it" Samantha sighed once again, annoyed. She didn't have all day, she wasn't one for the bullshit and would much rather cut past the idioticy and get to the point.

Good grief, even some damned kid came and bothered her, she was really close to losing her temper and slapping the girl in front of her. However, it would be taking a hasty decision, there was probably some logical explanation as to why she had gotten the reaction she got. It was the right person, no doubts. However, what she started doubting had to be the words she had used. However, she could just recall that she was told to request a private show. It didn't matter though as people soon started leaving. Samantha closed her eyes and sighed one last time before starting to talk again.

"You're lucky I was in a good mood today, it would have been a pity if such a pretty dancer suddenly had a couple dislocated bones. I'm not here for any sort of fucking show, I'm not by far interested in dancing in general. I'm here because of this" She put a sarcastic pressure on the word "Pretty" as one last form of mockery before getting serious again.

She pulled the rifle off her shoulder and put it on top of the counter. There was no visible magazine input upon first look, which was weird in one way since the base of the rifle was a semi-automatic rifle. Samantha put her hand on the rather small pull and pushed it up before then pushing it forward, down, and then back. There came a click sound from the rifle and she pulled out the three-shot circular magazine, loaded. She flipped it around and pulled out the bullets from it, holding them in her hand to let the girl see.

"It isn't exactly unknown what puts some extra cash in your wallet you know. Even if this shit-hole closed down, you'd still make a living, wouldn't you?"

Samantha smiled before loading the magazine again and placing it back, and pulling the locking mechanism back into place so the magazine was locked. "I came here wanting bullets, but since you're apparently not interested, I'll just leave. It would be fun if this place suddenly couldn't get any more alcohol either, wouldn't it? You might not know it, but alcohol isn't as easy to get anymore. There is less to find, and those who have the money rule the market. I hope you're happy" Samantha said with a smile before throwing the rifle back up on her shoulder. "There's a dealer down the road as well, right? Hopefully that one got some respect for others" It was pretty apparent that she was just teasing her. Samantha didn't show any signs of getting ready to leave, and the rifle was only back on her shoulder to avoid taking up the bar bench. "Now, you have some toys for me or not?" Samantha finished, smiling.

Setting

The North

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#2013-12-12 23:27:26, as written by bfb_monster

As usual Nikolai was walking in his own thoughts, mostly about how the hell he would get a new scope. The rifle he had used today was one of the smaller calibers, so the other scopes he owned wouldn't fit it. He had another low-powered rifle, but he only used that to get parts for the one that was slung over his back, so it had no scope. "Chyort voz'mi" Nikolai mumbled in Russian, should charged the blue punk for some god damn money! Too late for that now. How the hell will I get a scope?

He could go to one of the arms-dealers, but they usually just sold complete weapons or ammunition. It was self explaining that a complete rifle would be much more expensive, not that Nikolai was short on money, far from it, but he didn't want to spend more than he needed to. But he didn't really have a choice either. He needed a new scope, simple as that.

It would take time to talk to all of the arms dealers in New Moscow, time he didn't really have. "Hey Nikolai!"
Seemed like today was his lucky day. The answer to his problem came walking straight up to him. "Morning" He replied while he turned around and waited for her to catch up. A small curve on his lips that was the closest he would ever get to a smile, but the scars made it seem more like a snare than anything else. "you have any meet left?" Lorlei asked.

It wasn't the first time they had met. Nikolai had traded meat with her before. "Meat? yeah I got a few pounds Fräulain" Nikolai said. The last word was more or less a joke, but he didn't really care. He really liked the German language, he just never had the time to learn it. "I can spare one and a half pound" he said and took the backpack of his shoulder to get the meat "Do me a favor and its yours" Nikolai spoke while he pulled out two bloody chunks of meat and offered them to her. "Ask ms.Putin at the saloon if she have a rifle scope that would fit a 308., just the scope. You know the procedure right? Come to me if she have one" Nikolai was talking about the rifle on his back, but he didn't expect her to know which caliber it was. The remaining two Arms dealers he knew about he would check himself. But they had never been as well-stocked as ms.Putin.

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#2013-12-17 07:11:43, as written by Elyon

Lore repeated his words out loud, committing them to memory, "A rifle scope that will fit a 308, got it." As a second thought, she thought to add, "Would you mind holding on to it for me? I think I'll make it a surprise for my mutter. Don't bother looking for me. I'll find you." She accentuated the last statement with a goofy wink. With an exaggerated salute and a large grin, she began her trek to the parlor of the best dancer in town, Arabella.

Finding people is a talent that Lorelei had developed and usually, her kind face could get her just about anywhere. Today though, her baby face was working against her as the bouncers of the saloon were hesitant to let her in. "Guys, I'm just here to deliver a message. That's my job, I'm a messenger. Fred!" She spun to face the larger of the two men, "you know me! I just delivered a message to your mother last week! If you'd like to come between me and a nice juicy piece of meat, you are welcome to continue wasting my time." She only realized later the naughty connotations of her words.

With a sigh of indignation, she finally relented. She had tried to convince these numbskulls, but it was obvious that they tuned her out. "Could you just ask Arabella Putin to come out here then? My business is with her."

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Arabella Putin

0 · 433 views · located in The North

a character in “Project Paradise”, as played by ~Lonesome Butterfly~

Description

So begins...

Arabella Putin's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Setting

Characters Present

Setting

Characters Present

Setting

Characters Present

Setting

Characters Present

Setting

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