The Hotsy Totsy Twenties

Jadeling Hawkins · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Jadeling Hawkins** on Fri Nov 23, 2007 12:46 am

Allright, kids, here's the deal. This is an rp that takes place in the Roaring Twenties (the 1920's) in New York, New York, America. Whether you're trying to sell Hooch (bootleg liquor) or trying to go from a piker (a loser/coward) to an egg (someone living the rich life), there's plenty of action to be had. And come on, 1920's slang is the best.
If you want to play, I have merely three big rules:
Follow general etiquette (no godmoding, behaving like immature children, etc.)
Try to be at least vaguely literate. NO txt-tlk. NONE.
PM with your character description before leaping in, please.

If you manage to speak in flowing twenties dialect...you get bonus points and brownies.
In case you were curious...here is a website with a list of 20's slang

http://local.aaca.org/bntc/slang/slang.htm

NOW then! In your character description, you may want to include these facts:
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Physical Appearance:
Profession: (Gangster, Bootlegger, Fruit cart runner, etc.)
Brief bio:

My character:
Name: Fiona Muirenn
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Blond hair to her shoulders, blue eyes and short of stature.
Profession: Gangster, a member and possible heir of an up-and-coming Irish Gang, four generations in the making.
Brief bio: Fi grew up attending brewery meetings and the occasional execution of those that could not pay for protection. Therefore, she finds her current life of running around and checking up on family colleagues, dodging nosy Investigators and collecting fees relatively normal. She has become a decent shot with a pistol, but it's hard to practice when every time you use it, you have to toss it in the nearest body of water. At this point in her life, she is merely waiting for an ailing uncle to fade so she can step up into a higher position on the chain. Still, spending all day bouncing from bar to bar has its perks.

Mega Man · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Mega Man** on Sun Nov 25, 2007 1:26 am

Name: Gerald ‘The Anvil’ Keep
Age: Forties (exact age unknown)
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Gerald is a handsome man who is about 6 foot 5, and is extremely broad and muscular. He has neatly cut blonde hair, green eyes, a pointed nose and jutting square-like chin.
Profession: Gangster
Brief bio: Gerald was born in New York in the late eighteen hundreds, to a young teenage couple. The pair quickly dumped the baby on the doorstep of the local orphanage. After ten years spent in an orphanage, he was adopted by a farmer who lived in the next town over. The farmer forced the boy to work in the fields, nearly to death and with little food. It was here that he built up his body and became so strong. At the age of eighteen, he prepared to leave the farmer, but the farmer wouldn’t allow it; consequently there was a struggle, but Gerald came out on top. After retuning to New York City, he earned a career fighting; it wasn’t long before someone offered him a large sum of money to ‘take out’ a business client. He went through with the hit, and was initiated into the world of organized crime. He was named ‘The Anvil’ because people claimed when they hit him it was like punching an anvil, and when he punched people it was like being hit by an anvil. Up until 1920 he had been in organized crime for about decade, and in the last year or so had been taking an interest in bootlegging alcohol…

Jadeling Hawkins · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Jadeling Hawkins** on Mon Nov 26, 2007 11:19 pm

((ooc: Alright, we're going to get going here, and anyway that wants to join, just PM me with your character sheet for the okay, then jump in

))

Fiona sauntered her way into the salon. She had received a summons from her father, requesting a private meeting. It wasn't likely to be a highly important meeting, but a summons was a summons.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" She spoke properly, having had a great deal of money spent on education, but with a heavy Irish accent that was worn with great pride in her family.
"Yes, yes, come in." Her father was twisting the over sized ring he wore around and around on his thumb. It had been taken from a rival back when he was around her own age, just beginning his trek in the family business.
She brushed a bit of what might have been lint from her sleeve, sliding into one of the over stuffed chairs and waiting for him to speak. Blue eyes she had inherited from her mother alight with keen interest. It was fake interest, but faked well.
"You'll be going around and checking up on a few of Uncle Bradan's friends today," He slid a sheet with a list of names and sums across the table towards her. She picked it up with light fingers, scanning the list quickly, then folding it and tucking it into her jacket pocket.
"Make sure they all still know that we consider them family," He advised in his own thick Irish accent, leaning back into his chair and continuing to twist his ring. "Take the Anvil with you. I get the feeling he's growing bored."
Her eyes snapped up, her lips twitched as though she was going to complain, but she held her tongue. "Done."
As she left, she tugged at a few of the strands of blond hair that brushed down around her collar. Another gift from her mother. It wasn't so much that she disliked Anvil. No, that wasn't the problem. She simply did not like feeling babysat. Allowing herself a brief, mutinous "Tch," she entered the lobby filled with family agents, all waiting for or resting after a job.
"Anvil. Get those dogs up, you and me are going for a ride." She retrieved her hat from the stand in the corner, trying to relax the muscles in her face while still feeling just the tiniest nudge of resentment. The last time she had gone out alone, she had ended up needing to shoot some piker with flapping gums, and this small amount of trouble had earned her a constant guard by her side when she made rounds. It irritated her to no end.

Mega Man · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Mega Man** on Tue Nov 27, 2007 4:35 am

Anvil had waited long enough outside the building for Fiona. Well, he hadn’t really, but he wasn’t a patient man. He preferred doing things his way; and he preferred doing them fast. He clenched his fist and watched the knuckles pop out with pride. His strength was legendary and he wasn’t being shallow. Not many people could compare to him when it came to muscle. He hadn’t earned the nickname Anvil for picking flowers.

He pulled at his confining suit as he walked inside the building and saw Fiona by the hatstand. “Come on Fiona let’s ankle. I may be a bimbo but I’m no lollygagger. And don’t get all balled up about your Father sending me with you,” he said, his voice more soft and calm then his size may’ve revealed…

OOC: I agree...20s slang rocks!!!!!!!

Jadeling Hawkins · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Jadeling Hawkins** on Tue Nov 27, 2007 1:10 pm

Fiona's eyes narrowed, just the slightest bit. Oh, this was just going to be a blast. Tucking her newest gun into the side holster hidden by her jacket, she stepped out into the fading sun. Evening was beginning, the perfect time for business.
"Oh, dry up, Anvil." She snapped, buttoning herself up. "You can beat your gums all you want, but the sooner we leave the sooner we're done."
Once she was out of earshot of her father, or indeed anyone who had had a hand in polishing her mind, the flowery language melted away.
Sliding into the passenger's seat, she casually folded her legs and withdrew the list, waiting while the Anvil got the car moving. "We'll be visiting Nicky's first," She announced cooly. "That bluenose is still clutching at a two month late agreement. If he's still begging for time, tonight's it."

Mega Man · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Mega Man** on Wed Nov 28, 2007 12:21 am

Anvil twisted the steering wheel to the left, and the car followed suit and turned around the corner. Although he was a good driver, he stilled like to pay attention to the road. He didn’t have any intention of ever paying to get a car repaired. He knew that the price would be through the roof. He put his foot on the brake and slowed down before a crossing, letting a group of children and their teacher pass. While the car was not moving he turned to look at Fiona.

“You are surely a moll. How ‘bout this, if it makes you feel better you can be the gangster and do the talking. I’ll just be the big six fire extinguisher,” Anvil said cheerfully, patting Fi on the leg. When the crowd passed he turned his attentions back to driving.

Jadeling Hawkins · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Jadeling Hawkins** on Wed Nov 28, 2007 12:55 am

Fiona chuckled a bit, tucking a bit of hair back behind her ear. "Sounds ducky, Anvil."
For a hired bimbo, the Anvil could be an enjoyable presence.
As they pulled into what appeared to be a flower shop, she tilted her hat on her head, covering her left eye. It was the underground symbol used at this particular juice joint that the hat wearer was not, in fact, here for flowers. Though her face was probably known, it was still a necessary symbol, in case she had...company.
The tiny bell jingled as the door opened, and Fiona stepped into the dimly lit shop and the heavy scent of flora.
"Well, welcome! We're havin' a special on....Oh, Fi!" The dark haired girl behind the counter slumped back in her seat, biting her lip. "Ah...you're here...early.."
"Nice to see you too, Sabrina. Your da here?" Fiona smiled cooly, hands in her pockets.
'Sabrina,' as the girl was named, glanced out the window, just to be sure, then quick-stepped over to a wall, lifting a potted plant and pushing a button it concealed. The wall seemed to relax, allowing Sabrina to push it back so Fiona and her muscled companion could enter.
Down a dark, leaky hall, into a barely lit room, and past that into a lavishly decorated bar. The carpet was green felt, the walls were papered neatly, and the spacious room filled with tables, stools, and chairs. What it seemed to be lacking, however, was customers.
With a sigh, Fiona reached into her pocket, withdrawing a golden watch. Checking the time, she straightened her jacket and nodded to the Anvil, making her way into the office in the back. There, she found Nicholas, the balding owner of the speakeasy, and a shameless debtor.
"Good evening, Nicky." She slid herself into the chair across from him. "Third of the month, like we agreed." She pulled out her folded paper, scanning it for a moment, then looking up. "I'm on a schedule, so let's make this quick, shall we?"
Nicholas fidgeted, one hand running over his shining head. "W...w-well, Fi-Miss Fiona, er..."
Fiona's eyes narrowed slowly.
"T-the thing is...I got the money, see, I got the money for sure..I, I just need..." The man cleared his throat, a high pitched sound, "I just need...a couple more days, right? Just a-a couple...a-and..." His voice trailed off with the look she gave him.
"You've had your days and your weeks, Nicky. My Uncle is getting impatient." With a sigh, she sat back, massaging the bridge of her nose. "Look, Nicky. You've been working under my family's wing for a long time now-"
"Right! Right, I have, an' I always come through, d-don't I?" Beady black eyes looked imploringly to the Anvil, "Don't I?"
"..For a long time," Fiona continued, clearly irked, "but I can only do so much. If you don't pay, you don't play. We don't have time to wait for you to get tired of wasting your clams at the derby."
Nicholas began shrinking back into his seat, eyes widening with every word Fiona uttered.
"I've got a lot to do today, so I'm going to be lenient. But this is the last time, Nicky. Next time I come and I end up being left holding the bag, this place will burn down. With you in it."
This said, she stood, sighing a bit as she adjusted her hat. "Break his thumbs," She added to the Anvil as she passed.

Axle · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Axle** on Wed Nov 28, 2007 5:16 pm

OOC: Thank you for the chance to play this game J, I hope to be an entertaining and valuable asset

.

Name: Johnny Duvick
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Johnny has dark brown hair which is of a moderate length, growing just down past his ears and just below his eyebrows. He has dark green eyes, a gift of his Irish heritage. He's well muscled, though he's not a bruiser with a large or thick frame. He's sporting dark brown, well worn trousers, a wife beater and an off-white long sleeve button up shirt over that, with the sleeves rolled up. He also wears a plaid, white and brown 'cow-pie' or drivers cap, made of cotton or felt material.
Profession: Courier and Fruit Stand guy.
Brief bio: Johnny came to America through Ellis Island at the age of Eight. His parents had come with him, but didn't survive the journey over, due to sickness. John was placed in an orphanage, but left when he was fifteen, and has lived on the streets of New York ever since. He mostly runs letters and packages for a quick buck, and also has a small fruitstand in a ghetto neighborhood. Him and his group of friends can be tough guys, and they don't people that make trouble for them and their business, so Johnny's accustomed to the unsavory life. Though he has no family connections to any mafias or crime familys, Johnny wouldn't mind taking a job as a soldier; it'd defineatly pay better than what he's doing now.

IC: The night was clearly overtaking the day now, the sun setting behind the tall buildings of New York, and eventually dipping below the horizon. Johnny and his long time friend, Trevor, were covering the various bins on the fruitstand and closing it up for the night. "C'mon you lollygager," Johnny said, as Trevor was struggling to untangle a difficult tarp, "We don't got all night! We gotta meet up with Adrian to get that hooch! Hopefully this time, it's better than before.." Trevor finally mangled the tarp flat, and covered the last of the stand. "Yeah, this time Adrian says it's the cat's pajamas, none of that watered down whiskey from last time." Johnny closed the ply-wood shutter, and locked it as he said, "It better be, or we'll be hittin' the hood that sold him the stuff in the kisser. I wanna get a good edge tonight, been a long week ya know?" Johnny and Trevor started walking down the street, and Trevor replied, "Yeah, has been a long week. Not in the mood for no baloney tonight."

They walked a couple blocks, and as they spotted Adrian on the corner of the next block up, Johnny couldn't help but notice two beautiful girls walking towards them. "Eh buddy, look at them dames!" Johnny said, nudging Trevor. Trevor whistled quietly and said, "Damn, the blonde one's got some good gams!" Johnny grinned, and as they walked past them he said, "Hey girls, cash or check? I gotta take you out first or what?" They both just glared at them, and the red-head girl said, "Pipe down you owl, we aint no pushovers!" Johnny just laughed as they continued on, and Adrian was just rolling his eyes as they approached. "Boy Johnny, you never lay up on the dames do ya?" Johnny just grinned as he said, "Nope, not a chance. So where's the hooch ya shifty bird?" Adrian just leaned back against the pole and said, "Dunno, supposed to wait here. Said he'd meet me outside this butcher at Nine Thirty. It's just past nine now, so it won't be long." Johnny just sighed and said, "Well shoot, this better be the bee's knees or we're gonna have to take care of business this time. Seems like none of these hoods got any respect around here, selling whiskey watered down with apple juice, that's bull." Adrian sighed as he brought out a ciggy and said, "And how, I got my shiv with me tonight, 'cause if that is the case.." Adrian made a cutting motion with his thumb across his neck. Johnny smiled then said, "Yo, butt me Adrian! You owe me from the other day." Adrian handed Johnny one, and gave one to Trevor as well. Johnny lit him and Trevor up with a match, then they stood there, waiting for the bootlegger to show up.

Walter Barrecks · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Walter Barrecks** on Thu Nov 29, 2007 12:34 am

Name: Remy Bruyere. Also know as Frenchie, Cajun, or Drunk by some.
Age: 22
Gender:Male
Physical Appearance: Tall, skinny, and a little muscular. Fit enough to keep up with the mob. Short Brown Har, down to his eyebrows, and a little messy. His eyes switch from ranges of brown to ranges of green. He leaves stubble of facial hair uncut. Usually looks like an insomiac.
Equip: Grey Trench Coat, many pockets. Grey Fedora, black cloth wrapped around it for the ring just above the rim. Pocket watch, notepad, pencil.
Profession: Ace Detective...
Brief bio: Remy came up from the south to spead his Cajun knowledge with New York, after all, they had a crime problem. Remy is brillant, and always figures out the case, however, he knows turing in the mob right off the bat would get him killed faster, so he helps the cops slowly catch the criminals of the streets. He also has a rather frowned upon love, booze.

Mega Man · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Mega Man** on Thu Nov 29, 2007 5:43 am

Anvil just hummed idly, waiting for Fiona to finish her business. He looked around the flower shop; not a particularly exciting place, but then again flowers were definitely not his interest. He watched the florist try top go calmly about her business. But it didn’t take a genius to know that it was forced. She would often make an improper cut on a flower due to trebling hands. He didn’t blame her. With a man as big as Anvil standing around, even the bravest of men would cower.

When she came out and ordered him to break the man’s thumbs, Anvil was all too happy to comply. The man sat down unsurely, watching Anvil with distrust. The gangster calmly bent down grabbing both of the florist owner’s hands with immense strength. Anvil slowly slid his hands in such a way that he was only hanging on to the thumbs; then with a massive crack, he jerked the thumbs backwards, their cracking chilling. Now content, Anvil strolled back outside, with a nod to the lady as she rushed past to check one her screaming boss.

Opening the passenger seat door for Fi, he asked “Where to now?”

Jadeling Hawkins · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Jadeling Hawkins** on Thu Nov 29, 2007 11:13 am

Fiona slid into her seat, legs folding almost gracefully. Just another day at the office.
Withdrawing her list, she examined it, using a ballpoint pen to jot down the events at Nicky's.
Payment in two days, reprimanded

"It looks like we're headed to the Fading Blossoms." She couldn't help but grin. It was one of the best juice joints on the list, run by some Asian folk, disguised as a restaurant. They had never once been late or short in a payment.

Walter Barrecks · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Walter Barrecks** on Thu Nov 29, 2007 4:57 pm

Remy laid back in his chair, sipping a cup of "tea", and looking at his notepad. Fadin' Blossoms.....Well, I heard dis place was sellin' moi favorite drinks, but I didn' know dey was givin' jacq ta da gangsters..... He sipped his tea again, which to any joe there with half a brain could smell the booze in the cup. He was sucking something strong. He read the last part of his notes from his work. I suppos' I just have ta wait....

Jadeling Hawkins · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Jadeling Hawkins** on Thu Nov 29, 2007 5:58 pm

As they pulled into the the dingy parking lot, Fiona tucked a flower she had borrowed from the shop into her hat. Another signal.
As they entered the dismally lit shop, they were greeted by an old, wrinkled fellow, bent almost in double and shuffling his feet.
"You hungry?" The man asked in a loud, chinese accent.
"Always." Fiona examined her pocket watch.
"We no have much food tonight, no good business this week." The man's dark brown eyes flicked to the side. Fiona followed the hint...and took in a messy man with a tea cup. He looked like he might have crawled out of garbage bin...at least compared to the neatly suited Anvil and Fiona. Still...he had a notepad. And notepads usually meant one thing, and one thing only.
"Gerald, dear, will you take my jacket?" Fiona shrugged the garment off and held it out for Anvil, who only became 'Gerald' in the presence of lawyers, lawmen, and police.

Walter Barrecks · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Walter Barrecks** on Fri Nov 30, 2007 10:41 pm

Remy saw the blode walk in, followed by a big man. Dose mus' be da collectors...dey look too rizty ta be in dis joint. "Hey Garzon, more "tea". Giv' it some "edge" sil vous plait? " Remy took in what he was hearing and seeing. Hmm...whata doll. Shame I might have ta send her up da river.... I hav' two problems facin' moi doh... Dat guy could probalbly beat moi inta da ground. Dat thug is hard-boiled. I can't put up a good fight with 'im... And second, dat dame ain't no dumb dora if she is workin' in da payment branch. I can't jus' screw 'er for information on the gang and pinch 'er da next day like dem Molls dat would fall for da drugstore cowboys. She goin' be harder ta crack for info dan dem. Remy jumped out of his seat, and approached the blone. He bowed in front of her. "Bonjour Madame. Excusez-moi, but may I ask you why you come to a joint like dis when you look like you could go somewhere better?"

Mega Man · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Mega Man** on Sat Dec 01, 2007 6:06 am

Anvil took the jacket with a large smile on his face, and said in a clear un-accented voice voice, “Of course Miss Muirenn.” Saying Anvil’s real name, Gerald, was also another way to say watch out of danger. Anvil hoisted the garment over his shoulder, and stood patiently behind Fi, and waited. He looked at the older man, Anvil’s stare penetrating and intimidating.

Jadeling Hawkins · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Jadeling Hawkins** on Sat Dec 01, 2007 11:37 am

Fiona paused, eyes slowly moving onto the Frenchman. Cold as any ice.
"I hardly consider it any of your business, but I come here for the atmosphere. Quiet and out of the way, I find it easier to relax when I'm not pestered."
With this, she stuck her chin out and turned back away from the man, back to the proprietor. "My usual table, Shin."
The old man, bowed feebly, then bowed again, this time to Remy, and hobbled off, leading the two gangsters to a table on the other side of the room.

Walter Barrecks · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Walter Barrecks** on Mon Dec 03, 2007 12:38 pm

Remy followed them, he needed to just get one thing to slip. "You say admosphere, but for some reason, I tink you also come for a cup of Shin's "tea". " He said as he was handed a new cup by a waiter. "Merci" He lifted it to his mouth, and drank it within seconds. "Dere's sometin' screwy wit' dis tea, sometin' ....I can't tink of a word for it...ah..." He spun the cup on his finger, his other hand on his chin, tapping his lip. " I would say illegal, but I can't prove dat now can I...or at leas' if I could, Zherald migh' hav' moi neck in 'is hands." He pointed at the man.

Jadeling Hawkins · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Jadeling Hawkins** on Mon Dec 03, 2007 1:10 pm

Fiona paused in buttoning a cuff that had come loose, offering Remy a smile as sweet as any mountain lion. "Why, Gerald is nothing but a harmless teddy bear, ain't that right, dear?" She patted Anvil's large shoulder.
"Big boned, certainly, but that's no reason to fear him." Anvil's suit held what must have been truly odd shaped bones. "And as far as the tea.." She slid into her seat, plucking the flower from her hat and offering it to the ancient waiter, "You may not have heard, but Prohibition is still in effect. Thank you, Shin," She accepted a crinkly menu and opened it with dainty hands, once more ignoring the Frenchman.

Mega Man · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Mega Man** on Tue Dec 04, 2007 2:51 am

Anvil took a seat, despite it being a bit too small for his massive body. It was uncomfortable but he would live. “That’s right a teddy bear…A teddy bear that could really go for a drink,” he replied to both Fi and the Frenchman. He looked at the man, and said, “What do you have to drink?” Anvil then turned his attentions to a menu being held out to him by the Frenchman. There wasn’t anything particularly appetising he thought. “Fi, I’ll just have whatever your having.”

OOC: OMG!!! Sorry I didn't post sooner

Jadeling Hawkins · **Tips:** 0.00 INK by **Jadeling Hawkins** on Tue Dec 04, 2007 3:28 am

((ooc: Don't worry about it, Mega

We're happy with whatever we get!))

Fiona scanned the menu, highly uninterested. She wanted to make her way to the underground juice joint...but the French detective was a true stumbling block to this goal. She wasn't new to this game. Clearly, neither was he. And the aloof, classy act was not working to deter him. Time to switch tactics. With a sigh, she set the menu down, turning once more to face him.
"Look, baby, here's the deal: The bank's closed, so get a wiggle on. Or, if you're just going to stand there all night, at least make yourself useful and hang up my hat."
With this, she took the soft fedora from her head and flicked it at the man, turning her attention back to the asian waiter.
"We'll take two javas and a plate of your best rolls."
Shin bowed repeatedly, backing away from the table with his wrinkled hands clasped as if in prayer. He was clearly attempting to hide a smile.

The Hotsy Totsy Twenties

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The Hotsy Totsy Twenties

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