Abandoned Hope, a DC Multiverse RPG
Search
Display results as :
Advanced Search
Important Links
Latest topics
Earth and Mars collideMon Oct 30, 2017 7:49 amBrion Markov
James MonroeMon Oct 09, 2017 7:32 amBrion Markov
The First HornsSun Oct 01, 2017 5:04 amDiana Of Themyscira
A Bat on the IceWed Sep 27, 2017 8:31 pmDiana Of Themyscira
Soooooo, now what?Fri Sep 15, 2017 10:48 pmOswald C. Cobblepot
Pamela IsleyMon Sep 11, 2017 12:27 amPoison Ivy
Hugo StrangeSun Sep 10, 2017 11:43 pmHugo Strange
Who is online?
In total there is 1 user online :: 0 Registered, 0 Hidden and 1 Guest

None

View the whole list

December 2017
MonTueWedThuFriSatSun
    123
45678910
11121314151617
18192021222324
25262728293031

Calendar

Statistics
We have 14 registered usersThe newest registered user is Zatanna Zatara Our users have posted a total of 31 messagesin 21 subjects
Social Media

Share
View previous topicGo downView next topic
avatar
Admin
Posts : 15
Points : 19
Reputation : 1
Join date : 2017-09-03
Age : 25
Location : Europe
View user profilehttp://abandoned-hope.forumotion.me

Oswald C. Cobblepot

on Mon Sep 11, 2017 12:50 am
Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot
a.k.a. The Penguin


Full Name: Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot
Age: 39
Sex: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Occupation: Businessman, Entrepreneur


Alignment: Villain/Anti-Hero
Affiliation: The Penguin Organization


Universe: Batman
Elseworld: Main Universe
Residence: Gotham City

Face Claim: Edward Norton


Player Name: Oswald C. Cobblepot




Biography:

Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot was born on September 3rd in Gotham City to William B. Cobbplepot and Laura D. Cobblepot, born Danielli. His mother was of Italian heritage and his father was a wealthy businessman with British roots. He is, supposedly, of noble heritage. His parents died when he was seven, leaving him a vast fortune that and a housekeeping service that took care of all his needs. He was educated in Gotham's finest schools before leaving to Harvard to study law. He specialised in Criminal Law and Criminal Procedure, obtaining a Masters Degree at the age of 23. While at Harvard, he had kept his background hidden so that people would not look at him the wrong way. After passing his bar exam, he went to Europe to obtain his PhD in Comparative Criminal Law. Having accomplished that, he took a year to see the world, visiting a large number of different countries. Upon returning to Gotham, he decided to redevelop his father's business, aware of the needs of modern people. He sold some of his production companies, using the money to develop a brand of luxury hotels named 'Iceberg'. Upon reaching success, he established himself in Gotham, opening several night clubs, casinos and the exclusive Iceberg Lounge, the most elite place in Gotham. Many of his assets are run under a false name to avoid publicity and he is, publicly at least, known solely as the owner of the Iceberg Lounge, where he can be seen from time to time. But, there is a dark side to Cobblepot's dealing, as some have suspected him of having ties in the criminal underworld or even being a leader of several criminal organisations. But, with his London manners, his clean visage and his charming posture, who could actually suspect Mr. Cobblepot being a criminal?



Characterization:

One would find himself in quite a deal of trouble wanting to adequately characterise Oswald Cobblepot. His public image is almost impeccable! A man of taste, style, good looks and wealth, he seems to have it all. His social skills are excellent - friendly, talkative and benevolent - quite like the common people he doesn't belong with. He is a man who donates considerable funds to charity and is currently funding a lot of urban projects within Gotham, aimed to help develop the city even further. When observing that, he seems to be perfect. But no one's perfect, right? A big trait of his was his secrecy. Even during his university days, Cobblepot has kept a big portion of his life to himself, not allowing his story and his wealth to influence his everyday life. Yet, he seems to be hiding more than he would want you to think, based on the rumors surrounding his illegal activities. According to a few rare (and mostly unreliable) witnesses, Cobblepot hides a brutal beast behind his always friendly demeanor, a psychopath who destroys his opponents with a smile on his face. He is not a brute nor has he ever been one, but there is something very strange about that, sometimes, cold and heartless look in his blue eyes. In the end, one can say that Cobblepot is a man with an obvious lust for power. Not that he ever took his situation for granted, he honestly did all of his work to reach where he is now, but even in that place, he wants more. The legal benefits money can give him just aren't enough and he craves for more. How far is he willing to go to gain that power? Only he himself knows...



Skills: Aside from his obvious wealth, Penguin is a man who relies on his personal qualities to lead him to success. Very intelligent and knowledgeable in a variety of fields, Penguin doesn't hesitate in using his strengths to his own advantage. He is also a skilled marksman and an expert fencer, having been trained in those disciplines as a young man. He has some knowledge in the field of martial arts, bud seldom resorts to such form of combat. 

Weaknesses: There is little one can do to a man whose identity is unknown, right? Well, that secrecy it Penguin's biggest weakness. His desperate need to withhold his humanitarian and playboy facade causes him to be overly secretive and suspicious, thereby allowing people to easily detect his biggest weakness. Imagining the destruction of his facade is almost impossible for him and he takes extra precaution not to allow that to happen. There is also a story from his youth that can affect him, but that fact is practically unknown to anyone but him... and her.

Equipment:


Penguin's Umbrella

Penguin carries a specially crafter umbrella with a carved emperor penguin on the handle. The umbrella is extremely dangerous as it is equipped with a blade and can also serve as an extremely precise firearm. 






Audition Post:




Gotham City has died once, already. A city of such fame and elegance - dead. We have revived Her, but what for? It seems that the only reason behind Her revival was for her to be killed off again, this time - even more brutally than before. This wonderful city has once again plunged into darkness. Death and destruction around every street corner. Bodies appearing everywhere, victims of rape, violence, theft, all of them popping up like mushrooms after a rain shower and the police, more corrupt than the chimneys of the former industrial giants. This has to end. Gotham City has to survive. She deserves better. She deserves to shine. She deserves - me.






''Oswald, darling, how nice to see you'', a shrieking soprano burst into his ear, interrupting his stream of consciousness. He was in the Iceberg Lounge. The sound of live jazz music, the cacophony of human voices and laughter, the constant sound of footsteps and the irritating soprano of Chastity Wallace, one of the more respected socialites of Gotham City, in truth an old hag with bleached hair, too much make up and more plastic surgeries than there have been operations in Elliot’s surgical ward in Elliot Memorial; how loathsome.

''Good evening to you, too, Chastity. I trust you are having a swell evening?'', Oswald forced a smile upon his boyish face, hiding the darkness lurking inside his mind. He had to keep up appearances. That is why he attended the soirees in the Lounge every Wednesday and Saturday, when most people showed up. Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, one of Gotham’s foremost citizens, had to be seen, he had to keep a smile on his face and entertain all those idiots that helped the ruin of his beloved town. They were safe in the Lounge. Not even an armoured tank could penetrate it before being subdued in some way, but that was the exact point – all of the idiots were in one place, a safe place, whether it was a penthouse, a luxurious club or the Lounge – they were always safe. The people, on the other hand, exposed their lives in the streets, leaving the snobs to live their illusions of a safe and spotless City. Mrs. (or was it Miss? Did Wallace die already? Nah, who cares…) Wallace had kept on blabbering about something far beyond his comprehension, a somewhat abstract topic of interior decoration for a room specially crafted for a European poodle, which he could not follow so he just smiled and nodded, waiting for an opportunity to present itself. And it did.

He had unsuccessfully invited James Gordon, GCPD’s Commissioner, a long time ago and he was truly happy to see him attend one of his soirees. ''My dear Chastity, although your topic is vehemently appealing, I must leave you to your troubles, there is someone I need to greet. If you need anything, you know where to find me'', he said politely, almost too politely, smiled properly and left the old had, certain she had continued blabbering as if he had been there. ''I should have her killed. Just for the fun of it'', he hissed furiously, knowing that his comment would drown in the cacophony of similarly idiotic discussions. He pushed through the guests, nodding and smiling like a well-tempered machine, reaching Commissioner Gordon, standing there with his glass, a show of pure elegance and physical prime. ''Commissioner Gordon, I am so glad to be able to finally meet you in person. Oswald Cobblepot, the owner of this fine establishment!'', a sincere greeting, probably the first and only sincere emotion he is going to express throughout the whole evening, followed by a firm handshake; Gordon was strong, much stronger than the frail Cobblepot. ''I know you must be busy with your police work, but I am truly glad to have you here, even if it’s just for one night. Tell me, that report of yours, about the rising crime wave, is it really true? Is the city really in such a bad condition?'', he asked finally, eager to receive confirmation for what has been bothering him since the announcement on Boxing Day.




''My dear, that is truly horrendous. I suppose something will have to be done?'', Oswald asked, observing Sergey’s gorilla-like appearance several meters behind Gordon, sticking out like a bull in a china shop. ''I am truly sorry, Commissioner, but one of my staff seems to have something important to tell me. He would not have come otherwise. I do hope we shall have the opportunity to discuss this further. I might be able to help. Please, except my apologies once more and have a nice evening'', he said. He shook the Commissioner’s hand once more and then went with Sergey to his office, located on the top floor, directly above the stage where the band was.

The Iceberg Lounge was conveniently located in Diamond District, not far from the exquisitely modern Wayne Towers building, in the most elite part of the city. The look from Oswald’s office was luminous, to say the least, showing the false shine of Gotham’s elite in its fool bloom, perfectly covering the swampy background of the abyss. ''
Sergey, I trust this is important enough to have called me in here?'', Oswald asked, taking a seat behind his desk. ''Sir, it is the Organization'', the Russian said with a strong accent, accentuating the letters 'r' and 'z'. Oswald met Sergey back in Moscow, where they became close friends after the Russian had saved Oswald’s life in a traffic accident, jumping and pushing him out of the trajectory of a speeding Volvo. As a token of his gratitude and knowing very well of the famous Russian loyalty, Oswald decided to bring Sergey back to Gotham, where the Russian became his right-hand man. He had a sense for business and was a very organised and orderly man; the only thing was his English, which sounded funny no matter how hard he tried. ''The Organisation? Pray tell'', Oswald leaned back into his chair.

''You remember Moroni, sir? Giulio Moroni?'', asked the Russian. ''Moroni? The hideous Italian piece of lard that thinks he’s racketeering those two coffee shops down in Otisburg? Don’t tell me it’s him who’s causing trouble?'', Oswald asked rather appalled, envisioning the greasy figure of Moroni, known to be always having some piece of crap in his mouth, whatever the occasion. Oswald loathed the man, but he was a source of income to the Organisation and he had to be kept in line. ''Unfortunately'', Sergey nodded. ''Oh… fuck it! Send that… hideous thing… and the kid, that crazy little Oliver Twist… Napier, right? Let them scare the living daylights out of that idiot. He’s really crossed the line this time'', Oswald said with determination. ''Napier and… The Lizard?'', Sergey asked, confused. ''Yes, no… Reptile, wasn’t it? Whatever… the hideous mutant… you know who he is. Pay them the usual and give them something extra, depending on how well they do the job. But don’t let them kill him, for the love of it. Imagine another idiot replacing him? Ghastly! Was that all?'', Oswald asked. ''There is the matter of James Simmons. He still hasn’t payed his debt. We have informations that he has gone into hiding and we cannot find him at the moment'', the Russian added. ''Really? That’s bold. Wouldn’t have expected Simmons to be that bold. This looks like a job for Black Orchid. Send her the info. Let her extract the necessary information and get us that money'', Oswald said. ''And then?'', Sergey asked. ''Sorry? Oh, let her have her fun with him'', he said with a smile.

Seconds later, there was a knock on the front door. There entered one of his hostesses, one of the new ones, rather timidly, walking slowly towards his desk. ''Yes, my dear? How may we help you?'', Oswald asked in a friendly manner, which seemed to calm down the girl just a little. ''Sir, I apologize for the intrusion, but there is a mister… Henry Ducard… or Henri… asking to speak to you. In private. He said it was a matter of business'', she said, still insecure. ''Henri Ducard? Never heard of him'', Oswald said, looking at Sergey, who was equally baffled. ''Well, Sergey, it seems that we shall have to meet our new guest. Business is business, after all. Please, my dear, fetch our guest something to drink and escort him to the meeting room. Tell him I’ll be there in a moment'', Oswald smiled and turned to Sergey, as the girl was exiting the office. ''Look, I presume he’s mostly harmless, he wouldn’t have passed through security otherwise, but keep close just in case. You never know in Gotham who wants to do business with you. Oh, this reminds me. Please, tell Stacy to send out an invitation to Bruce Wayne for Saturday evening. A VIP ticket for four. I’d like to speak to the young man. We might be able to see eye to eye'', Oswald said.

As the two friends parted, each with their own tasks, Oswald took the long way to the meeting room, deciding to grab a few extra seconds of solitude before, once more, playing the part of socialite. When is this night going to end? The door soon appeared in front of him and he opened it with the grace of a perfect host, observing the stern man in front of him. He forced another smile. ''Mr. Ducard, I presume? My name is Oswald Cobblepot. I was told you wanted to speak to me?'', he asked, offering his hand to his guest.                                                                                                                                                    


View previous topicBack to topView next topic
Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum