Robert "Robbie" Evenwood's page

Robbie wakes up smiling. It is the first day he's really felt good about since his incarceration. He washes his face with the amenities provided and even straightens up his goatee (provided they permit him a razor to do so with). As he gets dressed, he opens and closes his left hand, still feeling sore from his injury along his left bicep, but he is glad to have his full range of motion back without being reduced to tears.

A whistles to himself as he makes his preparations, mentally running all the information that he will need to present at the trial. He waits for the guards to come and take him to court.

Robbie grunts and shoves the youth down to the tile floor, shaking his head disapprovingly at the boy as he clutches at his own wound, noticing the blood beginning to well up.

"G%&~@#mit, kid. You f@#*ed up good. Real good. I ain't gonna kill ya, but I bet the Yardies will. Maybe the wardens'll be nice and lock you up in solitary to keep ya safe. 'Course, this here's an attempted murder charge. Whatever you were in for probably wasn't gonna keep you here long. That just changed, kid."

Robbie gives the kid a condescending smirk, steps back inside the shelter of the cubicle and waits for the guards to arrive.

Robbie winces, then snarls before stepping forward and delivering a powerful punch to his assailant's face. He favors his uninjured side, presenting a profile to his attacker that displays his obvious proficiency in combat.

STR + Brawl - 1 Defense (4 dice): 8, 6, 10, 5. '10 again': 8. 3 successes, 3 bashing damage. Also, please visit the discussion thread. I have many questions waiting to be addressed. :)

"You don't even know me, kid. I'm giving you the chance to run."

Full defensive this round, doubling my Defense. If he tries to stick me again, I'm kicking his ass. :D

Oh, I just caught that you wanted me to roll my own dice here. Sorry for that. In the "door kicking" action described above, do we want to call that STR + Brawl? STR + Athletics? This is part of the reason, especially for WoD, that I prefer one person handling all the rolls. I'm going to assume STR + Brawl and add my 3 bonus dice from the Willpower point here. If there are any equipment bonuses (which I kinda doubt), you can tack them on later...

STR + Brawl + 3: 8d10 » + 2 + 2 + 6 + 2 + 10 + 1 + 4 + 3. '10 again:' 6. 1 success. Somewhat less than stunning, but hopefully enough, given the somewhat flimsy doors.

Do I correctly presume that my pants are currently around my ankles or have I finished and am about to leave? If my pants are still down, can I pull them up and take an action in the same round? If I'm finished, then my action will be as follows:

Robbie listens carefully for his attacker's approach. As soon as the attacker was just outside the cubicle, Robbie surges forward and attempts to kick the door right off it's hinges and into his attacker's face.

I will spend a point of Willpower to add 3 dice to the roll needed to pull this one off. It's a life or death kinda deal. If my pants are still down, I will pull them up before attempting the action above (if possible). Otherwise, I'll just shoulder charge the door with my pants down. The objective is the same.

Fatespinner, I seem to have hit a bit of a block thinking how to proceed. I wanted to have an ambush scenario, and a combat scene. I just can't rightly figure out how to do that fairly, if I am rolling the dice for you. I will be back on track soon, but still have no real idea how to get to where I want to be from where we are. Sorry for the delay. I need a bit of time for my subconscious to hand me the keys.

Don't obsess too much over being "fair." If the story demands that I receive an ass-whupping, don't be afraid to hand it out. If the dice deal me some serious injuries, I can cope. If you want me to, I could handle the rolling for any combat scenes if you think it's necessary or preferrable. Just let me know. I'm interested in continuing the story.

Time to get proactive: What is your plan for surviving the next week? feel free to create a plan, without confirming the details. What rules will Robbie follow to get through this safely? I will need you to provide more of the impetus for the game. At the moment, you are reacting to what is happening, but I feel like I am prompting you. Please start to give me more to work with. Outline plans, and don't sweat the small stuff. I need to know. Ask questions if you need to, but ask them all at once. What do you need to know?

You are acting Robbie well, and I know he is in a place that limits his freedoms. Don't let the prison setting intimidate you too much. Get creative.

Robbie is playing it 100% safe in the new cell block. At his earliest convenience, he will attempt to retrieve his shiv from the Visitor's Center, but he'll leave the stash there for now in case someone comes looking for it. He backs down from conflict and does his best to look like someone who has given up hope. Obviously, if his life is threatened directly (i.e. he is attacked with potentially lethal force), he'll defend himself, but the death of his sister has dealt him a pretty heavy blow and he doesn't have a lot of the fire he used to. He just wants to get out and start getting back at the people who have hurt him. He'll stick close with the Jesus freaks, probably even join them in a lot of their religious events (being a somewhat repentant Baptist himself). When the Yardies start sniffing around or feel like they're getting too close, he'll confront them and ask them "nicely" to back off. Mostly, though, he keeps to himself and doesn't talk a whole lot for the rest of his time. He's putting on his best "goody two-shoes" act for the guards this week. The last thing he wants is something to keep him from getting out when he's this close to freedom.

Robbie's lip curled in a slight smirk and he raised his hand, shaking his head. "No worries, Dougie. Ain't nobody here on the inside I got beef with. I just wanna do my time an' get out. We all gots problems, man. I ain't lookin' to make more of 'em. You're cool, man. You're cool."

Robbie, having been raised in a Baptist family, goes through the routine with all due reverence, even if he's not especially pious. He is pleased with the fact that he seems to have found some men who won't seek to take advantage of him, but are also probably not the best allies in a fight. Still, it was a start, and he had to start somewhere.

After the prayer, Robbie takes a sip from his cup of water and nods in thanks to his tablemates. "Thanks for the invite, fellas. It's never fun to try to find yer footin' in a new cell block. I appreciate it."

Robbie hesitates for a moment, looking from the older man to the large one. He then nods, slowly picking up his tray.

"Nice t'meet ya," he says in parting to the large black man as he moved to follow the older man's guidance. He heaves a sigh of mixed relief and disappointment, but is pleased to have found someone else who seems genuinely helpful.

"Thanks fer that," Robbie says to the older man as they leave the black con's presence. "I'm new to this cell block, but I'm sure you already knew that. Name's Robbie." Robbie smiles as he states this, shifting the weight of the tray to one hand and extending the other to shake.

Robbie looks around the room in a daze. His mind is clouded and weary with the whirlwind of thoughts going through his head. He sees the Aryans, but dismisses them. He looks around, seeing all the others, and finally settles on the large black man in shackles. Being cuffed as well, Robbie smirks to himself and makes his way to the big man's table, setting his tray down across from him and flashing a smile.

"Eatin' alone ain't no fun," he says, picking up his utencils with his cuffed hands. "I'm Robbie. Just transferred from C Block. You'self?"

He knows its a bold move, but it was a risk worth taking. If this man was truly feared, then becoming his friend would be of great benefit. If this guy was affiliated with the Yardies, then he was as good as dead. Without his sister, though, Robbie feels that he has little left to live for save vengeance, so it was a calculated risk. The worst that could happen is that he gets killed. The Yardies were like as not to try that anyway, so what harm was there?

The news was old by now, but it still stung. Robbie feels the sadness welling up within him as the Warden informs him of what he already knew. He hangs his head and nods.

"Yeah... yeah, I'd like to have some time in the chapel. You can bring me the papers when I come out. I just wanna get this all done with."

His voice was solemn and dejected. This was a man who truly had nothing left to live for but vengeance. That time would come soon enough, he knew. Best to play it safe for now.

"If I get you out of here, will you make it your job to find out?"

Robbie snorts through his tear-streaked face. "S*!*, you'd have to kill me to stop me. Get me outta here, Carl. Do it and you have my word."

Robbie's jaw slackens and the cigarette falls from his lips. He cannot believe what he is hearing. His fists clench tightly and he hangs his head. Disbelief, at first, then rage.

"F%$%!" he slams his left fist against the cold stone wall. It hurts, and will likely bruise, but he feels nothing. "What the f#*+?! Why was she even there?! Who the f*@& did this? Do you know? WHO THE F&$$ WAS IT?! I want a g*+&@+n name!"

Robbie was up from his seat, grabbing the lawyer by his collar and tie. His other hand was clenched in rage, but he did not appear about to strike. He had the presence of mind to appreciate that this was not Carl's fault. He was merely the messenger.

Tears came. Robbie's face twisted from anger to sadness, the blood rushing forth to redden his face. He sniffed as he released the vice grip on Carl's shirt. "F!++... f+~$... she was all I had, man. What the f##@? This is so f*~&ed up... I don't even understand..."

Robbie seats himself with a thud and buries his head in his hands, weeping.

Robbie's features build with excitement as Carl outlines the specifics of the plan. Yeah, the dude was obviously coked, but he seemed to know his game pretty well. When the papers were laid out before him, Robbie did exactly as he was told and read over the papers in careful detail if for no other reason than to buy himself some more time out of the cell.

After concluding that the claim was legitimate, Robbie simply nods and smiles. "Sounds groovy, man. Got a pen?"

Robbie signs the documents with no hesitation.

Time to make your plans.

What are you going to try?

My plans depend on the results of the meeting with the lawyer. If you mean immediate plans, Robbie simply spends his time alone in solitary, avoiding any contact with others. He doesn't expect anyone to try to break into his cell and kill him the very next night.

Robbie hesitates a moment before answering. "Yeah... things are okay. They've been better, for sure, but it ain't so bad. I'm headin' to solitary tonight. Wardens found my stash. Got a group o' thugs in here what wants to roll me. That ain't nothin' new though."

Robbie smirks, looking towards the floor. He was genuinely concerned for his safety now that his supply had been cut off. How was he going to pay the Panthers? The yardies were sure to gang up on him... and it would not go well.

He raises his head again, producing a defeated smile. "I'm glad things are good wit' you. I'm glad you're happy. Sounds like you got a great life, sis. Ain't all f%+%ed up like mine, eh?" He tries to laugh at himself, but can't.

Robbie analyzes the man for a moment, but can't help but smile when he sees the message on his sister's hand. He nods to the man. "O' course, mister. We can chat."

After seeing the man step away from the window, he leans a bit closer to the glass, trying to conceal his obvious mirth from the screws. "So sis, what's new with you? Job goin' good?"

"S*&$ warden, I ain't got enough money to keep a steady supply of cigarettes much less tippin' off wardens. I deal in small time stuff. Hell, your average greaser prolly has more smack in his garage than I've had the whole time I's been here. I think you been lied to, warden, and it ain't by me."

Robbie sniffed, smirking a little bit and shifting his weight to the other foot. "An' I tol' you already, I ain't got the slightest idea who it is what's helpin' me out. Maybe the Good Lord hisself is lookin' out for me in here."

Robbie adopted his most winning smile. He knew that particular statement would not go over well with the Warden.

Robbie's shoulders relax a bit. It was clear that he was relieved at the fact that he wasn't going to have to fight tooth and nail. He was caught red-handed with nothing to hide behind. Nothing but the truth, and they couldn't well punish him for that.

"Truthfully, sir, I don't pay him nothin'. I got friends outside what wanna make sure my time here goes easy like and they's the ones what's doin' it. I don' even know which friends they is. You's gonna get more outta the warden then you get outta me, and I ain't bullsh-" he swallowed, glancing at the guard nearby, "I ain't lyin' to ya, boss."

Despite the obviously grave situation he was in, Robbie smiles and allows the wardens to take him without a fight. "Aw s!$#, gents. Did you find that nudie mag I had? I swear it weren't the one with yer sister in it, warden. Honest."

His snide remark earns him a jab in the ribs, but Robbie just coughs and remains silent the rest of the way. To himself, he wonders if the yardies had found out about his stash and pulled their own strings to get him on the ropes. He would find out very soon, provided he could talk his way out of this mess...

Robbie smiles and nods. "Yea... yea, we can deal. I got no beef with you. I'll tell ya though, I'll give you prime cuts, but you ain't my only customers. I can't be givin' this stuff out like it grows on trees... heh, I guess it kinda does though, huh? I can get you a blunt a day and maybe a gram of smack a week. My supply isn't always regular, but I've got enough to keep you covered. Whatcha think?"

Absolutely perfect. Fantastic work. It opens up a lot of things for us.

Just noticed a mistake I made. In this paragraph:

The state-appointed defense attorney played well upon the history of abuse Robbie and his sister had suffered and was able to convince the jury that it was simply a case of aggravated self-defense. Still a minor (though barely), Robbie served 2 months in juvenile hall and was released on his 18th birthday into his sister's care. His sister and a few of the gang-bangers he had hooked up with in school. Providing for her brother was more difficult than Marlene could have imagined, and Robbie helped her in whatever ways he could to pay the bills, often taking temporary jobs with local garages or simply stealing and pawning valuables when times were especially rough.

The bolded sentence shouldn't be in there. That was part of something else that I was going to write in but decided against it. Evidently, I didn't quite delete all of it. Robbie did not move in with his sister and a bunch of gang-bangers. Just his sister. :)

Robbie takes note of the scene, giving a friendly wave back to the men he'd eaten with.

"I want you with me," Robbie says gravely. "You up for a game of hoops, Skinny?" Robbie looks over his shoulder as he says this, flashing a smile and nodding his head in the direction of Mr. Johnson and his crew.

As the pair makes their way to the court, Robbie notes the yardies and their positions. As he draws near to the men who waved him over, he smiles and extends his hand to shake. "Thanks for the invite, fellas. I gotta tell ya, I ain't much good at hoops but you gents seem like a good sort to hang out with." Robbie winks at this last statement. He knows they're aware of what's going on, and he knows that they're no friends of the yardies.

Brief History. Let me know if there's any issues with it.

Born on March 18th, 1951 to Carl and Marilyn Evenwood in Fayetteville, NC, Robert Evenwood was the youngest of three children. His family owned a small plot of farmland just outside of town upon which his father grew a substantial tobacco crop that provided for the family's wellbeing after Carl returned from his service in the U.S. Military during WWII in 1942. Robert was raised well, helping his father with farmwork and learning about engines and machines from his older brother Thomas, who was aspiring to be a helicopter pilot in the Army. Though his family was attentive to his needs, Thomas was both the oldest and favored child. He took to his schooling with exceptional skill and consistantly performed above and beyond his classmates, graduating with honors and entering officer's training for the U.S. Military in 1962. When the Vietnam conflict erupted in 1964, Thomas was sent off to war and died from a Vietnamese grenade in Summer of 1966. He was only 22 years old.

Robbie's parents were devastated when the news reached them. His mother committed suicide only a few days later, further damaging his father's emotional state. Depression caused Carl to turn to drinking, eventually selling off the farm to settle his debts in winter of 1967 and moving himself and two children to New York City where he intended to live off of his Army pension for the rest of his life. He abused his children, chastising Robbie frequently because he never performed as well as his older brother in school and often beating him for petty offenses. His sister began working as a prostitute to escape the abuse, shacking up with a pimp by the name of Joey Simone. She worked the streets during the prime of her life, preferring the company of strangers to that of her own family. Robbie, however, had no alternatives. He began hanging out with a group of misfits at school, getting indoctrinated into the world of drugs and alcohol at a young age. Soon, he became involved in the local street gangs, eventually working up the strength to murder his own father in January of 1969, only 2 months before his 18th birthday.

The state-appointed defense attorney played well upon the history of abuse Robbie and his sister had suffered and was able to convince the jury that it was simply a case of aggravated self-defense. Still a minor (though barely), Robbie served 2 months in juvenile hall and was released on his 18th birthday into his sister's care. His sister and a few of the gang-bangers he had hooked up with in school. Providing for her brother was more difficult than Marlene could have imagined, and Robbie helped her in whatever ways he could to pay the bills, often taking temporary jobs with local garages or simply stealing and pawning valuables when times were especially rough.

Marlene finally hit it off with a member of the Gambino crew who was pleased with her services and offered to "buy her freedom" by offing her pimp for her if she would marry him. She agreed and the job was done. The man, now her husband, was one of the Gambino underbosses by the name of Anthony and he learned about Robbie's aptitude for crime from Marlene. He was especially interested in the young thief, taking him in and teaching him "the ropes" of the business and got him a few connections to get him started. Marlene, meanwhile, lived the easy life for several years as the wife of a wealthy crime boss. That all came to a tragic end in 1972, however, when a rival gang shot Anthony and several of his closest affiliates to death at a nightclub. Having suffered far too many violent tragedies in her life, Marlene decided once and for all that she was done with crime and secured herself a position with the New York DA's office. Robbie, however, had made a name for himself with the Gambinos due to his connection with Anthony and he wasn't about to give up the fast track to criminal success. A few years of fast jobs and dirty money had Robbie well-established but always looking for another score. One job went south, however, and the rest is history...

Robbie gives a defeated smile to the warden. "Thanks, warden." He makes his way over to the blacks' table and takes the seat, nodding curtly to the men.

"Mornin' gents," Robbie smiles. "I ain't had a steak in a good long time. How 'bout you?"

As he was sitting, Robbie's eyes sweep over the men. Even if these guys were in with the Jamaicans, surely they wouldn't be bold enough to attack him right in the breakfast hall? Robbie glances over his shoulder, nodding to Woody and Skinny after he had taken his seat.

Present tense is very awkward for me. It feels forced. I will try to accomodate, but it is not my natural style of prose, as my other PbPs can show you.

Robbie's eyes coolly surveyed the scene, never lingering long, but touching upon each and every one of the individuals who had it out for him. The list was not short, but it did indeed look suspiciously calm today. That did very little to set his mind at ease.

When Skinny spoke, it snapped him out of the pensive survey and he swallowed a bit to clear his throat before speaking. "Yeah. I ain't scared of 'em. If they roll me," Robbie shrugged. "I'll heal. If they kill me... s$*&, if they kill me then it don't much matter, do it?" He flashed a smirk at Skinny, then looked at Woody. "Play it cool, Woody. Yeah, my sis is comin' in. I'm hopin' to see her while I still got all my teeth in my head. I'll take my ass-kickin' afterwards."

The rhythmic breathing below suggested that his cellmate was still asleep. Robbie moaned softly as a yawn rose up to take him, stretching his arms out before rubbing his eyes. He'd been dreaming again. Dreaming of walking along the docks in the rain. It was a frequent dream he'd been having lately, though he had no idea what it could mean if it meant anything at all. Maybe it was just a dream of freedom? It certainly wouldn't be out of sorts for someone in his position to desire such things.

The soft clack of the warden's shoes grew closer to Robbie's cell and he tilted his head up to look through the bars.

Filled out the address book. Hopefully it works for what you have in mind. Also, I did some additional tweaking. I decided to get 1 Legal Ally and 1 Criminal Ally, so that refunded 2 xp back to me, which I combined with the 1 I already had and bought my Drive Specialty back.

I've tweaked a few things. Changed the Allies from Criminal to Legal, moved the specialty from Drive to Subterfuge. The new specialty is 'Denial' which I take it to mean whenever he's confronted with a situation in which he stands accused of something, he is able to deny it with a straight face, regardless of whether or not he actually did it.

I was not planning on having any of my "tools of the trade" in the box, but you mentioned "having a few things outside in storage." I'm wondering what kinds of things you're talking about here? Could I have a car in storage? Or is that something of too high a value? I'm trying to get a feel for what value these outside items can have before I decide on them.

Here's what I've got so far. Check the profile. Everything is, of course, completely mutable pending the answers to the above questions.