Welcome to Hickstead, home to both Seven Oak Stables, and Blue Acre - two rival stables. Both offer opportunities for their clients to reach the highest level of excellence. Each stable differs from the other, so choose wisely and never forget, loyalty is everything... Meanwhile as the stables battle it out, there's trouble brewing at the university. Be careful, if you don't pick a side you may get caught in the cross-fire...
This is an chilled out rpg with a super friendly and relaxed atmosphere! Remember to sign up with your characters full name in all caps and don't forget to do your claims! Thank you and Welcome, we've been established since 10th March 2009 but unfortunately have had to close guest view of our boards due to multiple sites ripping off our hard work, such a shame! Come chat to us in Discord before joining if you like!.
“Wouldn’t you like to know? I’m probably the prettiest Dove you’ve seen in awhile!”
He watched her closely, ever curious, "Oh, oh no - you're not the prettiest thing I've seen. Not even remotely close to be honest."
“Why waste time when you can quickly get to the point?”
"Because I like to waste time, toy with my food as they say."
“Some people have learned to hide their inner ugliness though. It’s not easy but it can be done. What about ugliness? Can it be hidden?”
He pulled a smoke from the crumpled pack and with his other hand, lit it, "Ugliness is ugliness, beauty is subjective. Ugliness can be hidden, but it eventually seeps through. Beauty to you is different to me - yours, perfection, flawless, fancy clothes - mine, blood, dirt, smoke and tattered fabric."
He shrugged; he wasn't used to having such metaphorical talks.
“Making deals with the devil or any demon isn’t in my job description.”
He snorted, "Spare me, I see that it is. Don't lie. I witnessed what just went on Dove."
“What do I want? Well, there are a lot of things I want. I can’t tell you that. It’s a secret.”
At that he laughed, the sound almost manic, "Everyone has a price sweetheart, everyone does. Just a matter of waiting to reach out for it, but if you'd rather not on your head be it."
“What makes you think I’m running for someone? Is a woman not allowed to run for herself. If were running for someone, how would I know you wouldn’t just take the cut and run?”
He tilted his head, figuring it to be a valid question to have, "Because unlike a lot of the shits that play this game, I'm no backstabbing lying bastard. I run for many, I run solo. It depends in all reality. And to be frank, whomever you run for - I just have a feeling - is standing on a lot of toes. Territory already occupied. If you want to go on, unhindered, best make me an offer otherwise there will be people knocking."
"Who are you calling Dove? That's not a name I respond to."
Ruslan's smile turned slightly more wicked, "You, whom else. Dressed all pretty in a place like this - the Dove amongst Pigeons. Or are you just some dull and unruly Pigeon that's pretending to be a Dove? Hmm? Which are you?"
Looking at her, she was most certainly pretty in her own way - not the sort he could picture himself being around all that frequently; just a little speck of curiosity really.
"Some shady things a girl like me shouldn't be doing. Have you never seen a beautiful woman like me around these parts?" Kennedy turned around slowly and swung the bag over her shoulders, knowing it was pretty much impossible to hide the bag of money. "What do you want?"
"Ah, a straight talker. Interesting," he tilted his head, as she turned around - a little bit bolder than most, "Beauty is such a rare thing, and it's only on the surface. Many claim to be beautiful, but really, right under that lovely skin is every bit as ugly as the rest. That superficial beauty can be so easily removed, marred, taken away and tarnished. It can be arranged, truly it can."
He watched her, black eyes searching her face as he played with the knife, folding and unfolding it like a toy, a nervous tick. The blade was keen, glimmering even in the dim light.
"What I want? Who knows what I want really - it changes on a whim, never certain until I want it in the moment," he smirked, "You know, I've already thought of several things I could want from this, but see - even demons cut deals and I can see just enough to know that maybe, just maybe, we can cut deals hmm? You tell me what you want Dove, the one thing you really, truly want, and just maybe this demon can deliver it to you, hmm? Wouldn't that be fun?"
He shut the knife with a rough snap and shoved it into his back pocket and produced a pack of cigarettes, "I don't know whom you are running around for Dove, but I would see to it that they understand the score in these parts. There's a percentage cut and if they aren't careful, customers will be picked off, one by one."
It was one of those nights were things were going swimmingly. His deals were made, the profits were high and he was as calm as he could get with his latest fix. His smile was wide, almost too wide - unsettling, but he didn't care as he saw himself in the window of a side alley. It went with his whole vibe, that unsettling demonic factor - living up the expectations of the world. He was a monster and there was no light that would get through to him. At least, he didn't believe it could.
Not that he wanted saving. He knew he couldn't be. It was simple. Even still, he now had to get out of town and get back to work helping to set plans in motion for further destabilization of various gangs that were trying to move on each other and those that wanted slices of Hickstead. He was so intent on going home he almost didn't stop, but he frowned and moved back to the alley way he'd passed by and looked into it with raised brows. A pretty girl with her back to him... what was a dove doing in such a dingy area?
Slowly he made his way over, curious like a shark investigating a possible meal. He didn't know what she had, but he was curious enough that he pulled the butterfly knife from his back pocket and pressed it to her back - hard enough she could feel it, but not enough to damage her clothes.
"Don't go panicking sweet heart," he purred, "Because if you scream, I'll make sure it's the last sound you make. Now tell me Dove, what's a pretty little thing like you doing in a dark and dingy place like this? Hmm?"
full name • Ruslan Lochlan Wilder nicknames • Loche age • Twenty-two birthday • October 13th occupation • Drug runner, Homeless gender • Male sexuality • Questioning
the appearance
face claim• Ethan Bramble
identifying features• A handsome face covered in ink and piercings, the eyes also tattooed.
the personality
likes • Singing, Parkour, Horses, Cold Weather, , Drugs dislikes • Bullies, Alcoholics, Lazing about, Cats, Carnavals/Circus's strengths • Keen people skills, Quick-Witted weaknesses • Lacks understanding of space, can't help being weird dreams • Unknown - maybe one day get his ink removed? fears • Being alone overall personality • Loche is a roulette table - his personality is an ever changing gamble based on the day and what he's up to. He can be chilled and fine one moment, and then raging and fixing to brutalize the next person to call him a waste of space. Deep down underneath his facade, Loche is just lonely and doesn't like it; he is also childish and even impulsive. But he is clever and cunning when his brain isn't addled, playing all sides of the field and trading in information. He's pretty good at what he does.
the history
father • Unknown - Likes to Proclaim he's the Devil's son. mother • Sabrina Wilder, 44, Escort siblings • None important people • -- hometown • Doesn't Recall - Somewhere in England overall history • Loche was an accidental child from one of his mother's brief clients, and despite her efforts to rectify the situation, Loche was just lucky or perhaps unlucky from the outset.
Sabrina couldn't have cared less for her son, often referring to him as a mistake, a waste, and even the worst decision of her life, but a toddler could never understand those words. He was left in the care of whomever she could get, and tended to avoid him when she was around. He was often hungry which led to many tears and many a frightening screaming session from his mother. He was neglected and left to his own devices in hotel rooms when his mother was working. With time, a frightened child turned into a silent, self-sufficient being that never asked his mother for anything. When he attended school - when his mother bothered to send him - he was bullied for his untidy appearance and lack of shiny new things that they had. He picked fights, got suspended often or did in school detentions, and at times his teachers caught him crying in out of bounds areas as he coped with less than ideal conditions.
He watched the other kids with their parents and could only wish that those affections were his - a dad who knew his name and mother that would give him a hug his biggest desires in his young life. By the time he reached his teens, his life further declined. His mother, getting older, took to getting hooked on alcohol and various drugs - using her money to feed herself and not her son. She remarked how fat he was, body shaming him despite how skinny he was to begin with. He tried to care about her, leaving his portion of food out for her instead of eating, tried to keep hotel rooms clean but it was never enough. Some nights Sabrina was a particularly nasty drunk - either with her words, or with her fists, giving Ruslan every bit of her mind about him. He was fifteen when her attacks drew blood, and on that night after she passed out in the bathroom, he left her behind - taking her drugs, cigarettes and remaining cash as a huge middle finger.
Nursing his wounds, Ruslan was picked up eventually by local police after locals reported him for odd behavior in the street. He was high on some random cocktail, and was simply curled up in the middle of the street screaming and crying. They let him off with a warning and tried to convince him to go home, but he refused and continued on his way. He later fell in with a local drug gang. He grew more and more tattooed with time. He ran drugs from one place to another, being a reliable runner with his gang. With the money he made, he paid to get his eyes specially modded to add to his appearance. He moved away from the lower grade gangs when he was twenty, and moved over the last two years through gangs, making his way to Hickstead where he resides currently. He speaks little of his past, and often times can be found spaced out in side lane ways or in the gutters at night. He has no home, a street kid through and through. And when he's of a clearer mindset, he can be found among the local riff-raff stirring troubles with other street kids and business owners.
the role player
alias • BlackJack, Jac age • Mid 20s other characters • Too Many XD