Author Topic: Marc Cooper  (Read 435 times)

Offline diplo

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Marc Cooper
« on: November 28, 2017, 04:36:32 PM »

Name: Marc Cooper
Date of birth: 11/03/1880, appears 34.
Place of birth: Seattle, Washington.

Nature: Competitor

The Competitor takes great excitement in the pursuit of victory. To the Competitor, every task is a new challenge to meet and a new contest to win. Indeed, the Competitor sees all interactions as some sort of opportunity for her to be the best — the best leader, the most productive, the most valuable, or whatever. Corporate raiders, professional athletes, and impassioned researchers are all examples of Competitor Archetypes. Kindred Competitors have any number of resources and accomplishments over which to assert themselves, from mortal herds and creature comforts to titles and prestige in Kindred society.

Ethnicity: Caucasian
Race: Vampire
Affiliation: Camarilla
Clan: Brujah


[ooo] - Enemy/Despise: Distrust, hate.
[ooo] - Dislike: Distant, avoiding.
[ooo] - Neutral: No judgement yet, just met, no thoughts about person.
[ooo] - Good opinion: Appreciation, like.
[ooo] - Friendly: Sympathetic, valuing.
[ooo] - Close friends: Admiring, deep appreciation, would die for.


Spoiler for Story:
Reims, France. 1918.

A glorious time where you wake up to fight wars for your country. Woken up by mortar trembles than alarm clocks. The U.S. Military setup camp near the French town of Reims on their purge into the German hold. It was the last major German offensive on the Western Front during the First World War. Under the strict commands to initiate a direct counterattack with the French, I woke to an honourable day. A day that lead to the Armistice of Compeigne, an agreement that ended the fighting on the Western Front. Paris played witness to the first Great War, the war that was intended to end all wars between the counties. The French just wanted the Germans out of their county and us, the U.S.A benefits from everything we can pitch our capitalist minds into. A win with the French can reap many grains and that was the underlying motives behind our president of the time, Woordrow Wilson. The division I was leading had two squadrons, one being the vehicular and the other was on foot. Being on foot in a battleground demands a great pair of balls between those legs and the men I had with me on that weekend were the bravest of them all. Wars are won by blood, sweat and competitive edges. “When your enemy charges forward, you hit them from the side and you hit them hard!” is what I used to say to the valiant soldiers. I still remember the first message I received on the radio, “Sergeant Cooper, we are a go on Romeo Four.” I got word that the Captain had strategized the situation and it was time for us to deliver the strike. 

Gathering up at base camp, four miles out the Cathedrale Notre-Dame de Reims, a grand cathedral known for its beauty and richness in ancient portraits was right beside a German campsite where they were preparing to march towards Verdun, along the banks of River Meuse. We strapped into our gear with prayers in our mind and hope to return back in one piece or die honourably for our countries. As a Sergeant, I needed to pose as the role model for these younger soldiers and so I did, reaching for my rifle as he sang the national anthem in preparation for a camp siege. The French came shortly after and we prepared formation with our tanks, the French brought a hundred of them at the very least.

The Relentless Allied Advance, 18th July.

As we got closer, the first canons were fired against the rival vehicles, one by one the shells dropped onto the meadows. The smell of gunpowder basking under the early rays of sun. A planned major counteroffensive against the Germans. American troops of 92nd and 93rd Infantry, my infantry. The Germans returned fire and the field turned quickly into a battlefront, a battle between the allied countries against them. I commanded the troops and we were able to destroy the recently formed German salient with our tanks and soldiers. A battle that lasted all day till the 20th before the Germans ordered a retreat and were forced back to the positions from which they had started their spring offensives. A strong strike against the right flank, crippling them into a corner where they had no other option but to retreat. We lost many soldiers but the enemy count were double, at the least. It was an important victory for the Allied forces for we had taken almost thirty thousand prisoners, and inflicted a hundred seventy thousand casualties. It was the strategic gains on the Marne that marked the end of a string of German victories and the new dawn of a series of Allied victories that was a domino which brought the German army to its knees within the next four months. 

Returning to the Cathedral few days later to the aftermath of an Allied victory, I drove with a private to spend a few moments in prayer to my families and my country. I opened the doors to the great hall, enjoying the magnificent view of the paintings and large glass sheets as windows inside the walls. A fragrance of dust caught my nose as the trembling earth had shaken up the pillars yet the foundation stood strong. The benches were out of order and there were no priests. A great hall to myself whilst the private excused himself for a cigarettes by the doors, refraining from entering with it. My boots echoed through as I laid gaze onto the altar and proceeded in a normal pace. The bloodshed on my palms had taken its toll on my conscience and I was beginning to turn to my darker side as the wars waged on, as any soldier’s thoughts surround him with the memories of war. I got ahead of the benches where I found a bible flipped over, I reached for it and read the first verse my eyes fell upon.

Matthew 26:52;
Then Jesus said to him, “Put your sword back into its place. For all who take the sword will perish by the sword.”

As soon as my lips finished the sentence, I felt something that resembled a cold wind by the doorway. The lights in the hall had a glint and the darkness grew with the setting sun. I paid meagre attention to it and sat down, laying the bible beside me atop the bench whilst I took a moment to recollect the horrors I’ve strategized. The doors creaked open once again and I overheard similar footsteps to my boot approaching. My private took his time to finish his cigarette, I opened my eyes as the echoes approached. Looking up to my right shoulder to see if hes finally here and to my surprise, a pale figure glared at me saying once “Hello, Sergeant Cooper.” Before I could reach for my weapon, I was struck with an emotional override where I felt comfort in her presence. I remained in my seat and all of a sudden, I was in a safe space within the church where I felt long lost states of comfort for a few moments. I wondered my private had gone off to and stood up as she glared into my eyes and uttered a single word, “Follow.” At the time I couldn’t explain why I was able to confide in her, perhaps I wasn’t able to resist because I was at a downhill of my mental state after my conscience rolled through the war’s moments like a picture reel, I was caught on a vulnerable side, just as I lead the Allies to strike against Germany’s vulnerability. I was caught by her appearance and followed her to the entrance of the doors, I stored undoubted confidence in her for reasons unknown and as I stepped outside, I saw my private holding onto the cigarette with a broken neck. The cigarette had almost burned out and he sat lifeless on the driver seat. She intended me to leave in another vehicle and like a lamb, I followed the shepherd.

Cuffs restrains my wrists tightly as I was unwillingly thrown into the vehicle by her, she possessed much more strength than her appearance and the whole situation was boggling my mind. What was happening? She has a French accent. Is this a test? I had so many questions to which she answered before I even made the will to ask, “Do not worry Sergeant Cooper, you are going to a safe place.” The journey lasted a while and the darkness had fully set in, I had a bag thrown over my head and taken into some sort of tunnel, I could make out because of the echoing noises. I was this close to reaching for my knife but the handcuffs restrained my movement. My will was beginning to claw into my head and I began to shake myself out of my state, to my surprise, I was quickly taken hold off and held down with immense grips from both my sides, forcing me to kneel. My weaponry were taken away and I began to resist heavily, as much as I could, it was starting to budge from my continuous efforts but that was the moment it happened. It was almost as if they knew I was a fighter and that I would resist. I could get a scent of her as her hands held my head in place, tilting it to the side lightly, I asked out in a muffled tone “You don’t want to do this, you don’t know who I am.” To which she chuckled softly under her breath with a followed response, “Your reputation is what that has brought you here, Cooper. Now, shut up and enjoy this, you’ll only get to do it once.” Is what I could remember before her lips laid against my neck and I entered a state of trance, overwhelmed with euphoria like I’ve never experienced before. It was killing me, I was getting powerless but I didn’t resist, the sensation was worth dying for. Slowly, I let go as my head felt lighter and I soon started to fade off into my own darkness. I was given a part of her, which made me who I am today. I groaned in pain and agony, my high wore off quicker than I thought and my low were at an all time, I felt an alien sensation I couldn’t describe and my whole body was burning from the inside, My hands were tied and I couldn’t see but all I could recall were the bad things I’ve done and all the people I’ve killed in the name of my country. But hours later, I came to my senses that I wasn’t dead, just thirsty. A thirst that has followed me for over a century, a thirst that has made me stronger and better in every way, a thirst that had led me to become who I am, a thirst that has given me fame and a thirst that drives me to power, a thirst, that changed my life forever. This is my story, it’s time to hear yours. And I hope you better make it quick, we’re almost at the airport.
« Last Edit: December 03, 2017, 10:41:49 AM by diplo »

Offline Smoke

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Re: Marc Cooper
« Reply #1 on: November 28, 2017, 04:51:04 PM »

Offline Skeeper0

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Re: Marc Cooper
« Reply #2 on: November 28, 2017, 04:54:12 PM »
i liek

Offline Mr.death

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Re: Marc Cooper
« Reply #3 on: November 28, 2017, 05:01:15 PM »
For now it looks nice :)

Offline Alexis_Alves

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Re: Marc Cooper
« Reply #4 on: November 28, 2017, 05:14:53 PM »
fuck off Diplo with ur Brujah :P

║┗┛║┗━╣┃║┃║ 0 0 ║

Offline Carl

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Re: Marc Cooper
« Reply #5 on: November 29, 2017, 09:21:34 PM »
Diplo having a Brujah...

Good luck mate, nice character profile over here.
Some people are simply blessed with the gift of good taste, and Carl is one of those cases.

- Wait, who's Carl?
- Better know him by his second name...!

Offline Lock

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Re: Marc Cooper
« Reply #6 on: December 06, 2017, 04:15:29 PM »
thiccck beard