Post by Deleted on Feb 9, 2013 9:44:39 GMT -8
| [rs=3][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 475px; padding: 10px, true][div style="border: 2px solid #ededed; width: 100px; height: 100px; background: url(http://i697.photobucket.com/albums/vv337/artisticmacabre/Hetalianess/Croatia/germanycroatia1-1-1.png);[/style"] | [cs=3] TOMISLAV DAMJANOVIĆ | |
Male | 30 | Flexible |
Croat | Back-Alley Arms Dealer | Lawless |
| [cs=5][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 475px; padding: 10px, true] APPEARANCE | ||
180.3 cm | 74 kg | Dark Brown |
Amber Hazel | Tanned | Lean |
| [cs=3][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,0,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=style, width: 475px; padding: 10px, true] PERSONAL | ||
| [cs=3] Personality | ||
| [cs=3] Polite. Tomis is unfailingly polite. He is always courteous, kind and generous—at least until its a Serb talking to him. Then all that charm and gentlemanly behavior goes out the window. Innovative. Tomis likes to tinker around a lot. He’s improved outdated weapons, fixed broken ones and even made a few special guns without any assistance. He’s made cell phone guns (which were hollowed out cell phones and didn’t functional at all, other than to shoot), and pen guns. Tomis hasn’t made any large or spectacular, but the few strange illegal weapons out in the world he can be proud to call his own. Trustworthy. Of those that know him, and he them, Tomis has never misplaced some one's trust in him before. He has never been known to back stab someone either. Although when it comes to sales, he doesn’t pick sides, but he would draw the line at age—no one under the age of eighteen can purchase a weapon from him. He may be an arms dealer, but he has his limits and morals. Charitable. Tomis always gives and he hardly ever takes. The money he makes from his work as a bartender goes to paying the bills and groceries, and occasionally buying a new article of clothing, but the rest of it, and the money, he makes off selling his weapons all go to churches or organizations as donations. He also volunteers a lot of his time on the weekends. He is never short of helping someone else in need. Caring. Despite his work and the fact he knows people are dying, he cares. He’s the kind of individual that has a nurturing side and spends a good deal of it worrying over the state of someone else. Tomis also purposefully avoids being mean or cruel to another being. He doesn’t gossip, he doesn’t bully and he certainly doesn’t encourage it either. It might be hypocritical with what he does, sure, but a long time ago, Tomis learned how to compartmentalize. He’s not torn over the fact he’s selling weapons. He’s torn over the fact that people feel the need to buy them for whatever their reason. Cynical. That said, Tomis rather cynical. He doubts other’s natures or their motives, goodness, or sincerity to others. The Croat wouldn’t say he is a realist, but most everyone else that talk the talk but don’t also do the walk, are not the sort he likes to fraternize with. Insecure. He would never admit it, but he feels horribly inadequate and inferior. It takes a lot of energy for him to bolster up enough resolve to pretend and act as if he is confident not just in his abilities but around others as well. Bitter. Tomis is bitter about many things. He is bitter about the loss of his childhood, the loss of his family, the war. He’s even bitter about having to emigrate from Croatia. He doesn’t talk about the memories that got deep beneath his skin and left festering wounds, but Tomis lives with them and he’s all the more resentful about that too. Head strong. The bad side of being absolutely tenacious; when Tomis sets his mind on something, it happens and it gets done regardless of who’s in his way. He is ceaselessly stubborn and willful. Intolerant Only towards Serbs and Serbians though, if that wasn't obvious already. He's really quite racist in that regard. Addictive. The worst of Tomis’ problems is his addictive personality—not that other people find it addictive, but he can easily become addicted to things. It’s part of the reason why he holds himself with such restraint, why he only drinks a certain number of drinks, why he doesn’t use drugs, why he doesn’t smoke. He’d already gone through a period of adrenaline seeking which resulted in the tattoo covering half of his upper body. | ||
Likes | Hates | Fears |
Eating and Food. There are only two things Tomislav loves and one of them is eating. For him, the heart of the home was in the kitchen. The entire family often spent time there and ate frequently. He is particularly fond of meats and bread, as well as fried dough and other desserts, but any kind of soup is his absolute favorite. He eats a little frequently through out the day and he also takes his time when eating so he never over eats either. Drinking and Alcohol. The third thing he is particularly fond of is drinking. Tomis does love his coffee, but he loves his rakja more. It’s his second indulgence in life and he will never say no to a drink, which in its own way can be risky. He does have his limits though: he never drinks before 5 PM, wherever he is and he never has more than five. Tomis doesn’t drink to get drunk, or to get buzzed.Coffee is also another favorite treat of his, especially Kava. Outdoors. Tomis adores the sun and anything it happens to touch. He is very much an outdoorsman, and he likes to keep plants and gardens so he can bring nature to himself if he can’t always get out to the parks, lakes or mountains. His home was very beautiful, especially its mountains, beaches and forests. In summer or in winter, he loved it, and when he came to England, it was a culture shock to see a place lack so many spaces. Culture. Specifically, Tomislav likes the Slavic and Germanic cultures. Primarily speaking, that would be art, music, theatre, dance, literature and everything else that would fall under the category of “culture”. He’s not one for pop culture, however, if he had to pick, he’d pick his native one over the English one he’s surrounded by. Sports. There isn’t a sport that the Croat doesn’t like. Perhaps it is the only saving grace London has, but its only just. Tomis rather prefers to participate in the sport rather than watch it, and there is a serious lack of other sports to participate in, such as sailing or hiking through thick forested mountains, something he is used to. Although, cricket isn’t terribly bad, rugby is a bit exciting and at the very least they still do have tennis and swimming. Socializing. Communicating and mingling with other people is something Tomis like to partake in frequently. He is the individual who’ll gladly sit on a plane and start talking to the person next to him. Parties are something he always looks forward to—any type of celebration really, and he takes great offense if he isn’t invited to one. | Impatience. There is nothing more grating then someone impatient. Not only is it bad for business, any kind of business, but it puts him in a sour mood as well. Granted it was the English bourgeoisie who coined the phrase, “time is money”, but there’s more to life than just money. Poverty. On the subject of money, Tomis can’t stand to see other people in need. It eats away at him inside to know there are homeless families in the world, people starving and not having a warm place to sleep. He can’t sleep at night with those thoughts on his mind. Disrepair. Like poverty, seeing things in disrepair, are broken or are abandoned. It reminds him far too much of a childhood for comfort, so he always avoids the streets that look as though a war raged through them. Pushiness. Most of his siblings were the type to be very loud-mouthed forceful individuals, and Tomis can’t stand it when someone diligently keeps pushing his buttons to get him to do something because they’re absolutely determined to get it done. There is no difference between assertiveness and aggressiveness in his opinion. Serbs and Serbians. They’re barbaric, controlling, land-hungry, violent, cruel, murderous, dirty people—but not Serbian Croats. They’re perfectly fine. Rain. England has too much of it. Perhaps not even rain, but the fog and the clouds! Oh, Tomis hates it, more for the fact he’s starting to look a little sickly without abundant sun to bask in. Not to mention, he's pretty certain it's starting to make him depressed. | Death. Tomis fears death. He’s seen too much of it in his life, he perpetuates it with the weapons he sells, and he reads about it in all the papers. He really fears the day he’ll die, regardless of whether or not he’ll go to heaven or hell as per his beliefs, he just doesn’t want to have that moment of finally departing from the world of the living. Injury. Along with death, he fears injury too. The war left him with rather troubling memories of people getting hurt, people being tortured. It created a very deep sense of self-preservation in Tomis, and a desire to defend himself at all costs. It's what drove him to start fixing and improving weapons he found lying around in the streets. Isolation. Tomis doesn't mind being alone. He doesn't mind living alone, working alone, eating alone. He's pretty self-sufficient and independent. However, isolation is something else entirely and it is a crippling fear he has to deal with every day. He doesn't have a support network, he doesn't have people he can really call friends that will have his back. Tomis doesn't mind the loneliness. It's just the lack of having anyone there he can turn to that terrifies him. |
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| [cs=3] History |
| [cs=3] When Tomislav was born, his family lived in a country called Yugoslavia. His parents were of the working class, devout Roman Catholics, and loved their children fiercely—although perhaps a little too fiercely because being hit by a wooden spoon hurt. He was the youngest of five children in a family of seven, although he had so many aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, and great relatives that his family seemed a lot larger than it actually was. Not that he had the chance to meet most of those relatives either, well he did, but he couldn’t remember meeting them as he was only a few months old. A year later, when he was still a baby, the country he should have grown up knowing began to splinter. War soon broke out and the happy home and family Tomis should have grown up with vanished before he even had a chance to make memories. In fact, most of his memories were built around moving from home to home, practicing drills for air raids, wearing his older sibling’s clothes, walking over rubble and stumbling upon dead bodies (after the first one, the rest become old hat). He lived in a world ravaged by war for the first four years of his life and was no stranger to night terrors, scuffling with the other children and finding abandoned weapons and shrapnel from bombs. He was also quite aware, even if he didn’t understand it entirely, that his home was in the state it was, because of the rest of Yugoslavia, especially the Serbians and Serbs, who did not want Croatia to separate. Tomis listened to his parents talk, his siblings, his remaining relatives, and came to associate anyone from Serbian, at least who wasn’t a Croat, as the monster under his bed and in his closet and outside his window at night. While he was really too young to do anything about this confusing anger and hate towards a rather faceless group of people—because really, they looked just like him and his family—he did grow up knowing what to do. The war ended, with the victory in Croatia’s favor, when he was about four, but it didn’t prevent or stop the next one between another succeeding country of Yugoslavia—Bosnia. However, by then, the damage was already done and Tomis’ family finally found a new place to live that hadn’t been so badly ravaged by the Yugoslavian Army. Life became simpler, but not any easier. While neither of his parents had been killed, and he still had a grandparent or two left, there was very little work to be found that any of them could do, and so Tomis spent the rest of his childhood only aware of the fact his family didn’t have much money, but there was never an issue of food, for there were plenty of other people willing to share in the building. This in itself created for the little Croat a new family to replace the old one he had lost. It did not however, replace the memories of vivid warfare. As Tomis grew older, he began pressing for more information, curious about the state of his early memories that vexed him so terribly. Eventually he was given part or at least half of the story, and became angered by what he heard. As far as he was concerned, the war wouldn’t have happened if the people in Belgrade had just let Croatia separate, and the Serbs in Croatia left. Nor would it have spiraled so badly out of control if the Croatian military had had better equipment and more people to fight with in the beginning. Unfortunately, what was done was done (as his parents repeated several times) and no more thoughts should have been given to the matter because Croatia was now an independent country. Tomis had no other choice but to listen to his elders, and gave it no more thought. It however, didn’t stop him from collecting debris and shrapnel from the sites of battles, and whatever else he could get his little hands on. Otherwise, Tomis grew up as a rather well-mannered, mindful child, who was also very passionate about his faith. When it came to secondary education, Tomis attended a technology vocational school where he learned the skills to both work with machinery and manufacture objects. With these skills, he began to fiddle around with the pieces he had collected at home and became adept at using his hands to repair and improve the simplest of objects. Gradually, that ability extended to anything with mechanical parts, no matter how rudimentary. He began to apply those skills to small things around the apartment building, doing good deeds for his neighbors. However, this was noticed by a couple of extreme nationalists in the neighborhood, who began to bring him more things to fix—namely rifles and other guns. Tomis questioned why once, but his answer came in the form of a long tirade of how the people of Croatia needed the guns to defend themselves in case the Serbian military decided to return. He never raised the issue again and before he knew it, not only was he enlisted to repair and improve the weapons brought to him, but also to sell them. He did so for years, earned himself a small reputation for taking requests and earned a nice pay check for it, which he used to purchase more supplies if the individuals in question didn’t bring him anything to work with. His reputation only existed in the city he lived in and a few of the smaller surrounding towns, but he was by no means infamous or well-known to other traffickers. He was beneath the radar for a very long time at least until the other dealers discovered he wasn’t working by their rules. They couldn’t abide by his freelancing and Tomis shortly found himself harassed and threatened and occasionally beat up by thugs. It only escalated and became a problem when they visited his home. No one died, thankfully, but Tomis suddenly had a lovely addition of broken windows and bullet-riddled walls. Not wanting to risk his family, who had no idea what he was doing for a living, Tomis left the country and immigrated (illegally) to London, England. Once in London, Tomis sought out a place to work and found a little pub willing to pay him under the table. He started work out as a server until he learned the skills to bartend and went from serving to bartending. However, he found his hands too idle and with a small portion of his paycheck, began to purchase weapons once more. When asked, if asked, he would coolly state that it was just a hobby of his, and it was, until others began to ask him if he was willing to sell what he made. So began his second round of being a back-alley arms dealer. As for his family back in Croatia, he doesn’t keep in contact with them and would rather have them assume he was dead. |
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