Neria Collins
Rookie
Posts : 19
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Join date : 2013-01-09
Location : Florence, Italy
Character Sheet
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Game Related Information:
Nom de Guerre:
 |  Subject: Neria Collins Sun Jan 13, 2013 9:21 pm | |
| I have read the manga Hellsing by Kouta Hirano inside and out, forwards and backwards. The full 10 volume set is always at my side for reference, and I have just recently finished watching all 10 of the OVA episodes, and have previously fully viewed the original TV series, but do not count the latter as canon.
Name: Neria Collins
Age: 27 years
Gender: Female
Physical appearance: Neria is a medium sized woman, relatively unintimidating on the outside. Her maximum height is recorded around 5’6”, and her weight fluxuates between fat, muscle and water percentages, the average being around 140 pounds. Overall, Neria has fair skin and a clean complexion, save for a number of small scars scattered about her arms and legs, particularly around her elbows and knees.. Her hair is cut short and dark auburn red, often dyed in the summertime to keep it from getting lighter in value. She keeps it trimmed throughout the year, and often has small pony tails at the nape of her neck when her do is in its longer stages.
Underneath her mop of hair, Neria’s face is oval in shape with a narrow chin. Her eyes are hazel in color, and sit deep in their sockets, darkly shadowed about her eyelids. She has a small nose and a medium sized mouth, both ears hidden behind her hair and her eye sockets lined by thin eyebrows. She generally doesn’t wear any makeup, often going au naturale, but does tend to hide her eyes behind sunglasses.
Clothing of choice: Neria’s outfit varies, often depending on the weather and her intentions with the outside world. Being a thief and professional go-getter, Neria’s code of dress is often fitted and lightweight, and relatively easy to move around in. Most of her clothes are relatively average for a woman her age, often as casual as a t-shirt with a sweater jacket, jeans and black leather boots and a scarf around her neck. When pulling a heist, she wears clothes that cover her fully, even donning wraps under her clothes to make herself appear more androgynous than female, and mostly in black or equally dark colors to blend more easily into shadow.
When pickpocketing, she dresses more like the crowds of Italy, creating identities for herself of characters that appear to be the least likely to pick someone’s pocket, but still tight enough to allow her to move seamlessly through seas of people. Within the confines of her jacket are her weapons, concealed completely from the public. Typically, Neria is also a fan of light accessorizing. Around her neck is a small cross necklace--a momento of her mother left when she and Neria’s father left for Istanbul, and around both middle fingers are knuckle rings.
Weaponry of choice: Neria’s choice of weaponry mostly revolves around firearms, both compact and automatic. She has an assortment of guns laying about her apartment, but only carries a maximum of two pistols with her at all times, a Jericho 941, and a smaller SR22 pistol. Her third weapon is an M-16, kept safely hidden away in a case, and rarely used. It’s kept in the house in case of emergency in the home, and is rarely, if ever, removed from the premises. Along with her pistols, she always carries a silencer.
Aside from her guns, should Neria ever run out of ammo, she’ll often turn to melee and makeshift weapons to fight or defend herself with. She is, however, not entirely weapon proficient, and will resort to improvisation when fighting against a tougher enemy without the use of her guns. Should these weapons fail her (as they sometimes do), Neria will often resort to fleeing the scene.
Race: Human
Abilities: Neria has a wide range of skills pertaining to her profession. The most basic of these skills is the ability to blend in with crowd and shadow to remain unseen. She’s stealthy as a fox, and quick to boot. She places patience and concentration within every step and move she makes if moving about with the shadows, and can disappear in the crowd after pickpocketing someone without raising suspicion. To go along with this, Neria can climb and roof-hop, and free-run when she needs to. Thanks to Vincenzo’s guidance, Neria is skilled in marksmanship, and can shoot and reload pistols and assault rifles. She has a preference for pistols, and only use assault rifles in times of emergency. Such a time, however, has yet to come. Other such skills that come with her profession is lockpicking, pickpocketing, safecracking, and the ability to sabotage alarms and other such security equipment such as cameras and motion sensors.
Organization: Herself. (N/A)
Personality: Neria is a young woman with a mostly bitter personality. She keeps it partially buried under quiet stoicism, often greeting new people with indifference and an obvious lack of interest in character. It takes few kinds to pique her interest, and should she find any, she’ll pursue it. In a country of a relatively friendly and outgoing people, Neria is one of the few that appear to be aloof and less than welcoming. Her overall demeanor is fairly icy. There are certain types of people she doesn’t care for and has a hard time hiding her disdain for them. The church and its clergy are among the list of those she doesn’t like, as well as cops, bourgeois and other rivaling thieves. Needless to say, Neria’s circle of friends is fairly small.
What few friends Neria has, however, are allies until they prove otherwise, as some of them have, rendering it difficult for others to gain Neria’s trust immediately. Those who manage to gain it, don’t have it for life. Neria is less of a scoundrel than most of her bandit brethren, but will take bond breaking steps to further her own ends, or even prevent the betrayal of others to her should she catch wind of them. People who manage to gain and keep her trust are kept as close contacts, people she can rely on for information or assistance, and are willing to accept the same from her. She may not treat them like best-friend-forevers, but she will show them due friendliness and utmost respect.
Those who she deems as enemies receive the brunt of her rage where it usually hurts them most, be it physically or mentally. Any of those who she deems as an enemy that causes her trouble will find themselves getting sabotaged or even killed. If neither can be accomplished, a good cussing match will suit Neria’s needs.
Regarding enemies that are really just obstacles to overcome, such as guards and cops, Neria has a strict no-kill policy when on the job or even when in flight from confrontation. While she has no qualms with ending the lives of those that aim to stop her, Neria doesn’t want a body count to compromise her anonymity, and prefers to keep bloodshed to an absolute minimum. She’s out to take trinkets, not lives, and will only put someone of that category down if she absolutely has to. If she chooses to actively engage these types in combat, she’ll work to knock them out rather than kill them, using blunt force using the butts of her guns or other such makeshift weapon.
In terms of combat with actual foes, Neria will turn first and foremost to tactics utilizing firearms and cover from return fire. She aims for vital points on the body and tries to conserve her shots for when they matter the most, not wanting to just spray bullets in the hopes that she hits something and wasting precious firepower. When she eventually does run out of ammo, however, she’ll resort to melee tactics, using her guns as melee weapons or finding other weapons and makeshift weapons such as knives or crowbars respectively. If it all comes down to fists, then Neria will try to pummel her foe until they drop, but chances are if it comes to fists then she’ll high tail it out of the situation.
If pitted in combat against a larger opponent--one that actually scares her--Neria will do anything to keep any blows from landing. She’s not the greatest when it comes to melee combat, and it will definitely show no matter what situation she finds herself in. She’s quick on her feet and can get herself to make split-second decisions once she gets past the horror of an opponent she can’t beat, and will often be found scrambling out of harm’s way like an injured insect.
Rank: N/A
Biography: Neria Durer was born to two loving missionary parents while on the road, while setting sail homeward bound to Germany from eastern Africa. Neria’s mother was a young woman hailing from Norway, and her father a native of Berlin; they were a young couple of God that met in Spain some years before the birth of their daughter on mission trips. The first few months of Neria’s life were spent in Berlin, until the three of them packed up and headed off for Italy for a trip to the Vatican and a visit to a family friend in Florence. While in Florence, little Neria came down with a sickness, making it unsafe for her to travel with her parents to their next destination.
With her parents unable to remain in Italy and wait for her illness to subside, they left her in the care of their family friend, Adriana Sforza, an Tuscan, androgynous woman who owned an antique shop in the middle of the city. Neria’s parents left, with plans to return for their baby as soon as they could. Unfortunately for Neria, her parents would never return to Italy, or even be heard from again. Nothing is known about her parents’ disappearance, only that they were in Istanbul, Turkey when they dropped off the map. Rather than reuniting with her parents, Neria would be adopted by Adriana and her last name, and grew up under her care to her teen years.
While growing up with Adriana, Neria became increasingly interested in everything old and valuable. Living in an antique shop gave her explicit access to old objects and ancient artifacts, fascinations of the grimoire and old history books. Even more than her academic studies, Neria focused on what was around her all the time. From Adriana, she learned to identify and appraise objects, to carefully discern how much a certain object would be worth, and how much it would take for an object to be repaired and restored. She learned all about history, mostly revolving the objects in the store and what was exhibited in the books she had at her disposal.
As she grew in Adriana’s care, Neria began to question about her parents, not having remembered them from when she was an infant. It was then she learned about who they were and what they did, as well as their apparent fate. As a young girl who didn’t hold much affiliation with the church, the revelation of her parents’ livelihoods and their disappearance lead her to hold minor disdain for the Church and its practices, feeling as though God’s call to action had lead her parents to their apparent demise. Pushing this to the back of her mind, Neria continued to learn from Adriana until she fell fatally ill and died during a cold Florentine winter.
With this new loss of a guardian and a loving adopted mother, Neria was moved into a boarding home for teenagers. She fell into a deep depression, and began collecting items to cope with her loss. This gathering of items soon became a habit that lead to stealing, which got her into trouble on more than one occasion. As punishment by the matron of the boarding house, everything that she had gathered and stolen was trashed. When it soon became apparent that Neria’s issue ran deeper than a simple greed for worldly possessions, the matron of the house sent her to see a counselor, who, over a span of a year or so, taught her to cope with her issues in loss and possession.
When Neria was able to cope in a manner that wasn’t dangerous to her health, she reflected on her stealing, and recalled the fleeting thrill that accompanied the soothing relief of acquirement she experienced. A few months after closing her appointment time with the counselor, Neria returned to thievery, and turned it into a hobby. As a young girl in the streets of Florence, she taught herself how to pick pockets and locks, as well as make small uplifts from food stands in crowded and busy marketplaces. While she became exceptionally good at it, she was by no means an expert, and was caught several times, bringing about the attention of the police force on both herself and the boarding house she lived in.
With these offenses serving as the straw that broke the camel’s back, Neria was threatened to be kicked out of the boarding house should she commit one last offense. While Neria certainly didn't care for living in the boarding house, she didn’t find the idea of not having a place to sleep at night very attractive. She also didn’t want to stop stealing, either. Instead of simply stopping altogether, Neria sought out ways to become stealthier in her pursuits, seeking out possible teachers on the streets that would help her become a better thief. Neria’s hobby in stealing was soon becoming a career.
Over the course of a few weeks, Neria spent her time seeking for a teacher. She had little success, but by the fourth week, she was put on the trail of a seemingly invisible name named Vincenzo. Vincenzo happened upon her while she was on her search, and offered her training in exchange for euros--that she had to pickpocket herself. Neria agreed to this, and went to work getting enough euros from peoples’ wallets to pay him. Once she gathered enough euros for him, Vincenzo taught and trained her to be stealthier and sneakier on the streets.
Around the age of 18, Neria was eventually kicked out of the boarding house, but was offered a place to stay by Vincenzo, who owned a small, hidden plot in Tuscany. There, she lived as his protege, using her extensive knowledge granted by Adriana to appraise appropriated objects and sell them for top dollar. Over the next few years, she created a business partnership with Vincenzo, moving on up from pickpocketing and petty thievery to extensive appropriation jobs for secular clients, easily evading notice of the authorities by keeping her execution quiet. From her twenties on, Neria lived a fair and eventful life alongside Vincenzo, until he up and moved away to Russia.
The separation was under mutual agreement, and Vincenzo left his property to her before heading Northeast. At that point in time, Neria changed her last name from Sforza to Collins--a name she found in some of Vincenzo’s documents and found appealing to her current surname--finally removing herself from the late Adriana and her troubled childhood. Instead of staying in Vincenzo’s property, Neria sold it, and took what belongings she kept from it to a new apartment place in Florence, taking extra funds to indulge herself: taking in a new feline companion, a black domestic, to keep herself from getting lonely. She named the cat Mezzanotte, or Midnight in Italian. With her new pet and in her new apartment, Neria continued her life of quiet crime and fishy business of appropriation with selective clientele.
RP sample:
Florence never seemed to change. All of Italy, in fact, seemed to stagnate as the world turned. It seemed all the same no matter what happened outside of its borders, the arrangements and events all occurring same place, same time, with little interruption from the dramas in central and northern Europe. It wasn’t as if Neria gave a shit or two about the conflicts of other nations. She cared little for the news and what it brought; it wasn’t her place to do so. Her priority was Florence, her clientele, and her own personal business. She had bills to pay and a tiny mouth to feed besides her own, and crises in neighboring countries wouldn’t deter her from that.
Even as the world around them seemed to burn with the embers of their own folly, Florence stood pretty under the grace of the afternoon sun. Blue skies were whipped with white and grey clouds, hardly any reason for gloom and doom. The crowds that meandered through over cobblestone roads barely even noticed the darkened lining, and while she took notice, she paid no further mind. Her thoughts were on other things, such as the client she was waiting on. She stood with her back against one of the many stony outside surfaces of the Duomo, planted in the northern district of the city and standing tall just as it did centuries before. The earthen-hued dome welcomed the rays of the sun, its structure showing no signs of deterioration in pride or integrity. The tower stood beside it, a silent sentinel of the colorful colossus.
Neria’s eyes trailed the road, watching as shadow recorded a train of footsteps from natives and tourists alike. It wasn’t too long before her man came running up to her, gasping for breath and unleashing upon her a long string of apologetics in both English and Italian. She lowered her arms once crossed about her chest, and looked on up at the nervous individual. She would not unleash any godly wrath upon him for being later than he said he’d be. She wasn’t a tyrant. He had money and was more than willing to pay her for her services. Only when he didn’t pay would he incur her wrath.
“Enough of your babbling,” she said, voice cold but smooth, showing no indication of shear disdain, “Just tell me what you want and how much you’re willing to pay. Walk with me, this way.” She nodded her head towards her right, prompting him to follow, and follow he did. “Why not here where I said to meet?” he asked.
“I won’t risk any assignment befalling the ears of any other,” she said, paying him a glance, “It’s a dangerous business. If we’re caught, both of us are in deep shit. Now shut up and tell me what you need.”
“Oh... R-right then,” he said, catching up to her. “There’s a man in Bologna. Rich, old fuck. Goes by the name of Giovanni Morino. He was once a family friend when he lived in Venezia. But then, once my father died--”
Neria shot him a dangerous glance, “I don’t care about your familial politics.” Her voice was sharp, forcing him to a quick stop, “Tell me what you want, where I can find it, what I should expect, and how much you’re willing to pay. You keep your dramas to yourself. If it doesn’t help me, then it won’t help you.”
He stared at her, face pale and eyes wide, “Ah--si, si! I’m sorry! Mis dispiace, signora! I--um, well, see--He owns this amulet. It’s... nothing too special. But it belonged to my grandmother. It was on my father’s person when he died... and the bastardo took it. Right from his corpse! I want it back. I have a picture of it.” He reached into the pocket of his coat and handed it to her, and she slowed her pace, looking it over, taking it in. It was a beautiful piece, only fit to be worn by the noblest of ladies. The necklace itself was shiny silver, as was the decorative base and lining around the turquoise gemstone in the middle.
“I need it back,” the man said, “No matter what it takes, how much money it takes. I’ll pay you everything that I have.”
Neria’s brow twitched. Personally, she hated that phrase and everything it implied. It implied that her given task was an impossible one, for one thing, and another, it told her the client was certain that he wouldn’t have to pay a dime in the end, whether she died trying or not. “We will settle on a price when I return to you with this amulet of yours,” she said, sneaking him a hard look, “And it will be a digit that’s worth this thing’s weight in gold, and how hard it was for me to retrieve. Now, details. Details on this place in Bologna.”
The man gave an uneasy nod, detailing her on the structure of the place. It was sounding more and more like a palazzo than a simple residence. He detailed access points, entryways into the house, and the target’s daily and nightly routines and rituals. From that, she would be able to formulate a plan--a nightly venture into the man’s house through the cellar, easily accessible via the back of the estate.
“Meet me back at the Duomo when I return. I will give you a ring on your phone. Do not be late next time,” she said as she walked away.
Battle Post
The man’s description of the house was spot on. Picking the lock on the cellar behind the house took her little time, and if the man was right about this old guy’s ritualistic behaviors, then he should be sound asleep and ready for her to pilfer his little treasure box of the otherwise fairly worthless amulet. Perhaps this amulet wouldn’t get her as many euros as she had originally hoped. Getting into the house was fairly easy enough, and she took it to mind to perhaps take more than just the targeted necklace, to sell for extra chump change.
For lack of a better term, the guy was loaded. Every corner of his house was littered with precious trinkets and pieces of art. Most of them were simple decorative knickknacks, but every wall and nook had at least one precious gem that she could drool over. The man was truly a collector of culture, and Neria envied the vastness of his gathering. Either way, she had no time to gawk. Her first priority was the amulet, and once she had it in her grasp, she would be able to peruse the house for other valuables. She would leave her mark on this estate.
Sneaking into the man’s bedroom was easy enough. Picking the lock on the treasure box was tricky, but once it was open, she had the amulet in hand. She paid the man sleeping in his bed a glance. It was odd, his entire body was covered, not even his face or the top of his head showing. She paid him a moment of a stare before turning and leaving the bedroom. She could swear whatever was laying underneath that blanket wasn’t even moving. Perhaps the man was dead--having passed in his sleep. Either way, it wasn’t her business, as she preferred it.
Now, it was time to grab some extra pieces and leave. It was a flawless break in. She reached for a golden gravy boat, and found herself hauled away from it, her vision blurring before her back slammed into what felt like an armoire. The noise was deafening; the entire piece of furniture collapsed from the force of her impact, all the breakables shattering around her and against her. “Che diavolo,” she said breathlessly, struggling to see the invisible attacker--a huge black shadow as he was in the darkness. She moved away from the impact sight, hearing loud footsteps coming towards her--large, heavy footsteps.
She was grabbed again and tossed onto a counter, landing against a mirror, shattering and cutting the back of her head on impact, “Merda!!” Her hand slammed down onto her leg, feeling around for her holster. Once she found it, she pulled her gun, just as she was being grabbed again. Her free hand grabbed whatever it was that was grabbing her--a buff arm it felt like, covered in what felt like a thick sweater, and rose her other hand, smacking the butt of her pistol towards the hopefully would-be face of her attacker.
She was tossed again, as if her attack had little effect on whoever it was that continuously grabbed and threw her. When she landed, she scrambled back to her feet, using what little light she had to find her way out. She scrambled as fast as she could, hearing the tromping of the beast that attacked her just inches away from her. She dropped down into the cellar, rolling forward before leaping towards another ladder, which lead to the surface outside the house. She burst out of the cellar, fleeing into the green fields around the estate. With the light of the moon bearing down on them, Neria turned to face what it was that was chasing her.
It was a large man, a large beast of a man, covered in black clothing, including his face. Was this man another burglar? A body guard? Her client said nothing of any sort of attack dog that guarded the place. Perhaps he was a burglar like she was, but really stupid about his job. Doesn’t he know that that ruckus could wake the old man up? It made no sense to her, so perhaps him being a guard was more likely.
Regardless, he was barreling towards her, and she fled, holding her gun back and firing at him, hoping to hit his vitals before she tripped or ran out of energy. She couldn’t get caught by this guy. She couldn’t fight him, either. She had to run or die, with the dying hopes that he would lose interest or drop dead, either by bullet or exhaustion. She looked back over her shoulder, seeing he was straggling behind. He soon dropped, disappearing into the grass. Neria gave a breath, but didn’t stop her run. She fled from the area, making way towards the central of the capital. That slimy little bastard was indeed going to give her all he had, if she had anything to say about it. | |
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