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Garry Crowe

A tall, skinny man with black pony-tailed hair and trimmed beard, pale skin, and a knee-length black overcoat.

0 · 276 views · located in The Infinite Void

a character in “The Multiverse”, originally authored by eljacko, as played by RolePlayGateway

Description

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"That little tool? He owes me money."
- Big Todd

Garry Crowe is tall and skinny in stature. His skin is pallid and sickly, and his eyes are a dull, gunmetal gray. His hair is black, and he wears it in a short ponytail. His face is thin, and his chin is pointed and protruding. He has a short, closely-trimmed beard. His nose is short, sharp, and tilts down. His face holds a night constant glare of impatience and irritation. He dresses in a knee-length black overcoat, a gray turtleneck, white slacks, and black wingtip shoes. Sometimes he also indulges in a bowler hat or driver's cap. On occasion, he stuffs an unlit cigarette into his mouth to avoid having to render his mouth in graphical form.

He has a reputation among friends and employers for unbelievable rudeness, poor common sense, and pretentious taste in drinks. He owes money to a lot of people, and consequently is paranoid and defensive. Nonetheless, he answers questions freely, though frequently dishonestly. Indeed, Garry Crowe is a skilled liar and deceiver, frequently misleading others for absolutely no reason at all. His skill in lying is so advanced that he once succeeded in convincing an aged schoolmarm to walk off of a pier in pursuit of a completely fictionalized truant shark. He then proceeded to raid the tiny rural schoolhouse for office supplies and gold stars.

He flits between jobs constantly, unable to hold down a single job, but easily able to lie his way into a new one at a moment's notice. Some of his "careers": traveling car salesman, advertising copywriter, insurance attorney, defense attorney, drug inspector, drug dealer, drug addict, bartender, innkeeper, landlord, landlady, assassin, mercenary, baron, cashier, professional football players, Elvis impersonator, private investigator, valet, author, soldier, prisoner of war, bicycle messenger.

Garry carries a large messenger bag on his person at all times, which contains a myriad variety of universally useless objects. As for useful objects, he has two handguns hidden in his coat, a hunting knife the size of a forearm strapped to his right leg, several smaller hunting knives on his belt, and more than five flasks, each containing a unique poison, all about his form. He uses these useful objects to avoid the menagerie of debt collectors pursuing him at all times, with varying degrees of success.

So begins...

Garry Crowe's Story

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Character Portrait: Garry Crowe

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#, as written by eljacko
Hmm. What...what am I doing in here? How much did I drink last night?

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Character Portrait: Garry Crowe

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#, as written by eljacko
Garry Crowe takes stock of the room.

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Character Portrait: Garry Crowe

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#, as written by eljacko
No. No, this certainly will not do.

The setting changes from syndicate-hq-hub-room-2nd-floor to Gambit's Bar

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Character Portrait: Garry Crowe

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#, as written by eljacko
Garry Crowe steps into the bar and stands in front of the door for a moment before walking up to the bar and taking a seat on a stool.

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Character Portrait: Garry Crowe

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#, as written by eljacko
Garry Crowe recovers from his momentary shock at having been so rudely circumvented by the Admiral-looking fellow and takes three steps forwards towards the bar before tripping on his coat and landing on his face.

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Character Portrait: Garry Crowe

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#, as written by eljacko
"Bartender!" Garry growls. "I request and require your worst bottle of absinthe. Just something really awful that looks and sounds better than it is."

When he receives the drink, he pays the bartender and sets the glass in front of him, not drinking it.

"Also, a martini, please."

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Character Portrait: Garry Crowe

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#, as written by eljacko
"You call this a martini!? Because I call this a glass of water!"

Garry storms out of the bar, leaving a half-drunk martini and an untouched absinthe on the counter, along with the vague smell of fear and loathing.

((I completely forgot what time it was, and must be going.))