HOME | DD

Description
Okaaaayyyyyyyyyy
So this is an updated ref for Poshley, with a more complete storyline and abilities list and shit.
Oh also HE HAS A WAY COOLER OUTFIT NOW eue
LOVE IT. LOOOOOVE IT
But anyway yeah here we go.
PREASE READ IT DESU THE WHOLE THING I KNOW IT'S LONG.

NAME: Poshley, just Poshley
AGE: about 54
HEIGHT: About 7’7”, including the top hat.
WEIGHT: Pretty much zero.
ALIGNMENT: Evil ish? I dunno he’s a mafia boss.
PERSONALITY: Poshley is super elegant and witty. He acts like a gentleman. He’s intelligent, and enjoys the finer things in life. He can be very sarcastic. He can also be a bit cruel at times. He’s very calm and collected.

PHYSICAL STATS (from 1-20 scale)
ATTACK: 13. He attacks usually by stretching his arms out, using the elongated limbs to strike, strangle, bind, or otherwise assault his target, though he can stretch any parts of his body with ease.
DEFENCE: it’s pretty high, unspecified though. The way to hurt him is to kind of scatter him around. He can pull himself back together, but it requires a lot of effort, and he can get exhausted and collapse.
SPEED: 17
STEALTH: 17, his movements are completely silent, unless he wants it to be otherwise. He can blend into shadows and dark places, eliminating the white outline that defines his shape.
MAGIC: while he is a magical being, he doesn’t really have any magical abilities, so I’m going to say 1. He can resist offensive magic to a reasonable extent, though.

LIKES: Anything expensive, champagne, fine wines in general, fine cigars, fine dining, being extremely classy, revenge, money, gambling, winning at gambling, poker, good company, good insults, killing members of the Redband Mafia (a rival gang), his Mafia officers, people who entertain him, a lot more.

DISLIKES: RED RED RED RED as in this guy [link]
People who are rude, people with no class, people who insult him without any class, bad insults in general, people who are pathetic, people who are dirty, unkempt things, members of the Redband Mafia, cigarettes, beer, and more.

STORY

Reginald Poshley’s life had always been one of luxury. He was born into a wealthy family, and was given only the best of everything. Early on, Reginald showed an aptitude for the world of business. Life went on, and eventually, he found himself a Ph. D. in Economics at the tender age of 18, having advanced significantly in his academics.

Reginald, with his family funds and knowledge of the business world behind him, started his own business. His success was instant, and significant. His company grew and grew, becoming a corporate giant known as MonoCorp. Soon, MonoCorp had holds in anything and everything business related. It was inevitable that MonoCorp would eventually join the endless ranks of corporations whose endeavors were not always as legal as they could have been. Over the long years, Reginald became a ruthless and ambitious businessman, and he soon found his corporation limited by the long arm of the law.

It was then that the Mafia came into his life, and changed everything.

The Redband Mafia was an undoubtedly formidable force. They had begun where all stereotypical, poorly researched mafias began: Sicily. The Redband Mafia had two major “branches”. One branch dealt mainly in Street Affairs, such as narcotics, prostitution, assassination, etc.. The other branch dealt with Corporate Affairs. This branch was significantly smaller, and much more careful. While Mafias do have power, challenging major businesses is never an easy thing. However, it was only a matter of time before the Redband Mafia paid MonoCorp a visit.

Reginald, in his eagerness to expand his business at any cost, agreed hastily to a meeting with some of the major corporate lawyers of the Redbands. Arrangements were made, and soon, Reginald found himself, completely alone, facing three of the most intelligent criminals in the world. Reginald kept this meeting a secret from everyone; nobody knew of it.

The Redband Mafia made Mr. Poshley an offer he couldn’t refuse, if you’ll pardon the cliche. An offer that Reginald refused. Haughtily, after refusing the offer, Reginald went on to threaten to use his corporate power to completely destroy the Redbands. They didn’t like this.

A well informed Redband agent confirmed that Mr. Poshley had not left any discoverable evidence or hints as to the fact that the meeting had ever took place. The Redband Underbosses agreed that Reginald Poshley had to be whacked.
And he was.

Mr. Poshley was returning from work to his private estate. He was going to review his Redband data, which included detailed accounts of all of the illegal activity he may have involved himself in. This data bank was found in one place and one place only: his personal computer.

As he was about to sit down, the power in his estate flickered on and off. As the power steadied again, some things had changed. The first thing that changed was the Redband data file. Note that the term “changed” may not be entirely appropriate. A better choice of words would be “disappeared permanently”. The second thing that changed was the security camera feed. A loop was played, displaying the same carfully selected image over and over to the security center of the estate.

At gunpoint, Reginald was taken to the roof of his estate. The escort in question was a trained hitman known on the street as Red, with expertise in avoiding suspicion. Red produced a bottle of extremely potent vodka from his coat. This particular type of vodka was Reginald’s favorite brand, one he drank regularly. Red forced Reginald to down half of the bottle. Reginald, who was a man who could handle his liquor, remained sober enough to guess as to what was going on.
He was wrong, however.

Red walked Reginald to the edge of the roof. He placed the bottle into Reginald’s hand, and with a final “Ciao, Mister P.” pushed him expertly off the roof. Reginald fell six stories, and smashed into the concrete at a fatal speed, killing him instantly.

Soon, the news had spread all around the world that the esteemed businessman, Richard F. Poshley, 53, had committed suicide by leaping from his roof, after consuming a heavy amount of alcohol. The Redbands, satisfied, bumped Red up a couple of Ranks, and proceeded to continue with their usual business.

Poshley was dead, that is true. He was not, however, gone.

Reginald awoke in what seemed to be utter dark. He couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t feel anything, hear anything, smell anything. It was as if his thoughts had been torn from his physical body and flung into a realm of utter nothing.
However, a small, white light appeared in the distance. It rushed closer and closer, gaining the shape of an orb, until it was what seemed to Poshley to be about ten feet away.

Poshley tried speaking, and found that he could. He asked the orb the only sensible thing that came into his mind:
“Where am I?”

The orb spoke then, in a voice that Poshley subconsciously thought as strangely unfitting for an entity encountered in the apparent afterlife.
“I dunno, kid. You tell me. No wait, don’t. Listen up. I’m gonna give ya a second chance up there. I’m fuckin’ bored here, I need somethin’ ta do. But hey, none o’ this human bullshit. See how far being a human got ya’ after that little trip. You may find yer new form a bit diff’rent. Tough shit, it’ll probably help ya out anyway. So yeah. You’re goin’ back to life, now.”
Poshley finally found the words to speak again.
“What do I do?”
The orb answered as follows:
“Whatever the fuck you wanna’ do, P. Whatever the fuck you wanna’ do.”
Poshley, confused, began to ascend, or perhaps the orb began to descend. At any rate, he felt that he was moving out of the darkness. Suddenly, he jerked to a stop.
“Waitwaitwaitwait.” The orb floated back over to his thought-being. “Let’s mix things up a little.” It sounded eager, almost sinister.
“For starters, you should fit your name. I dunno, with such a cliché name, you oughta match it. Yeah, that’ll do nicely.”
Poshley felt different somehow. Changed, mentally, though he was so detatched from any sense of reality that he really couldn’t tell what was different.
“Oh oh I know. New goals, new mindset, new body… it’s like you're a different person now! Have fun, bucko.”
Poshley could no longer speak. The orb seemed to give off the impression that it was waving at him, though Poshley could find no way that that would actually make sense.
Suddenly, everything blurred, until a fierce white light blinded him completely. All of his senses began to fade, until he effectively blacked out.

Poshley awoke on the street in front of a warehouse somewhere close to the city limits. He rose up, groggily, until his thoughts suddenly snapped to the fact that what seemed to be one second ago, he had been falling from his mansion and about to hit the ground at a speed that he was sure would have killed him. Then he remembered: it did.
Poshley felt different. He glanced down, and noticed two things. One: He was wearing a sort of elegant black trenchcoat. Two: He was a silhouette outlined in white.
Rather than recoiling, or shouting out in surprise or astonishment, as a normal human would have done, he simply chuckled. His voice sounded different; slightly older, and more sophisticated. It had a nice sort of elegant charm to it. He assessed that for a bit, and then realized that he wasn’t himself anymore. He was somebody new. He liked that feeling; he seemed extremely refined. He stooped in front of a pool of water to examine himself more closely.
He was tall, he could tell that much. He wore an enormous sort of top hat, as well as a cracked monocle. The monocle shone with a piercing white glare. All in all, he looked rather dashing, if he did say so himself. He flexed, experimentally. His movements felt and appeared fluid and easy.

It was then that he heard a noise from the warehouse. A loud crash, as if something big had fallen, followed by a stream of extremely obscene cursing. Curious, Poshley walked closer. He snuck a glance from around a corner.
There were two men sitting down in chairs that looked like they had previously stood under a large metal table, said table now lying on the floor along with a scattering of cards and dollar bills.
“You dumb shit, you want someone to hear us? This is private property, you fuck!” The speaker seemed young, in his twenties perhaps. He wore a red bandana around his neck, signifying him as an officer of the Redband Mafia.
“Sorry Red, Jesus, don’t get so pissed, man!”
Something about that name and the mafia seemed to click in his mind: These people killed him. They ruined his business empire and shoved him off of the roof of his own home. Poshley quickly ducked behind the wall of the warehouse. He wanted to learn more, to hear more…
He found that the white outline had disappeared from his body. He switched it experimentally on and off, finding that he could turn himself into shadow, into complete dark. He changed back to his shadow form, and found that he could slide along the ground and walls, just as a normal shadow did.
He slid inside the warehouse, carefully, avoiding detection.
“Damn, Red, ever since that promotion, you’ve really been an asshole.”
“Shut the fuck up, Steve. I earned this bandana, and the respect it commands.”
“Yeah, yeah….”
Red slammed his fist down on the table, quickly and angrily. “Don’t ‘Yeah, yeah’ me! I killed Poshley, you fuck! I did the family a major favor!”
The other man, as if coming to a realization, replaced his sheepish, sullen demeanor with one of admiration. “How’d ya do it, Red? I heard that guy had top security.”
Red went on to describe, with relish, the way he snuck past the security center, dragged the ‘helpless old jerk’ to the top of the roof, then threw him off, making it look like a suicide.
Poshley’s careful demeanor slid away, leaving behind a burning anger. He began to slide along the floor, slowly, towards the back of Red’s chair. He reached the chair, then rose up out of the ground, looming behind Red. His monocle flashed, and the white outlines were back.
“Holy shit!” the other man exclaimed. Instinctively, without thought, Poshley’s arm shot up and out. Red, who was extremely well trained in the art of combat, managed to duck, as Poshley’s arm flew over his head, stretching out, before slamming straight through the other man. The force of the attack sent the man smashing against the wall of the small warehouse, causing it to collapse on top of them. Poshley, disoriented, rose out of the wreckage, looking from side to side for Red. The dust that had been stirred up from the collapse obscured his vision, however, and by the time it settled, Red was nowhere to be found.
The previous Poshley, the one who had lived before the assassination, would have screamed in pure, unadulterated anger. However, the new Poshley simply tutted, as if the whole thing were nothing but a minor inconvenience.

It is here that I would like to announce the fact that I cannot possibly go on writing this story so in depth anymore because I am a lazy fuck.

OKAY important things that I don’t want to write out:
Poshley has become the leader of his own mafia through various thing stuffs. They deal mainly in gambling and shipping, as well as some narcotics. Poshley rules from behind, he has someone to act as Don for him. Because obviously a lot of people would be freaked the fuck out by him. So yeah.

OKAY WOW THAT TOOK A LONG TIME

Poshley, Red, Redband Mafia, etc. © Milesmagnificent
Art © Milesmagnificent
Story © Milesmagnificent

MINE MINE MINE

Description
Okaaaayyyyyyyyyy
So this is an updated ref for Poshley, with a more complete storyline and abilities list and shit.
Oh also HE HAS A WAY COOLER OUTFIT NOW eue
LOVE IT. LOOOOOVE IT
But anyway yeah here we go.
PREASE READ IT DESU THE WHOLE THING I KNOW IT'S LONG.

NAME: Poshley, just Poshley
AGE: about 54
HEIGHT: About 7’7”, including the top hat.
WEIGHT: Pretty much zero.
ALIGNMENT: Evil ish? I dunno he’s a mafia boss.
PERSONALITY: Poshley is super elegant and witty. He acts like a gentleman. He’s intelligent, and enjoys the finer things in life. He can be very sarcastic. He can also be a bit cruel at times. He’s very calm and collected.

PHYSICAL STATS (from 1-20 scale)
ATTACK: 13. He attacks usually by stretching his arms out, using the elongated limbs to strike, strangle, bind, or otherwise assault his target, though he can stretch any parts of his body with ease.
DEFENCE: it’s pretty high, unspecified though. The way to hurt him is to kind of scatter him around. He can pull himself back together, but it requires a lot of effort, and he can get exhausted and collapse.
SPEED: 17
STEALTH: 17, his movements are completely silent, unless he wants it to be otherwise. He can blend into shadows and dark places, eliminating the white outline that defines his shape.
MAGIC: while he is a magical being, he doesn’t really have any magical abilities, so I’m going to say 1. He can resist offensive magic to a reasonable extent, though.

LIKES: Anything expensive, champagne, fine wines in general, fine cigars, fine dining, being extremely classy, revenge, money, gambling, winning at gambling, poker, good company, good insults, killing members of the Redband Mafia (a rival gang), his Mafia officers, people who entertain him, a lot more.

DISLIKES: RED RED RED RED as in this guy [link]
People who are rude, people with no class, people who insult him without any class, bad insults in general, people who are pathetic, people who are dirty, unkempt things, members of the Redband Mafia, cigarettes, beer, and more.

STORY

Reginald Poshley’s life had always been one of luxury. He was born into a wealthy family, and was given only the best of everything. Early on, Reginald showed an aptitude for the world of business. Life went on, and eventually, he found himself a Ph. D. in Economics at the tender age of 18, having advanced significantly in his academics.

Reginald, with his family funds and knowledge of the business world behind him, started his own business. His success was instant, and significant. His company grew and grew, becoming a corporate giant known as MonoCorp. Soon, MonoCorp had holds in anything and everything business related. It was inevitable that MonoCorp would eventually join the endless ranks of corporations whose endeavors were not always as legal as they could have been. Over the long years, Reginald became a ruthless and ambitious businessman, and he soon found his corporation limited by the long arm of the law.

It was then that the Mafia came into his life, and changed everything.

The Redband Mafia was an undoubtedly formidable force. They had begun where all stereotypical, poorly researched mafias began: Sicily. The Redband Mafia had two major “branches”. One branch dealt mainly in Street Affairs, such as narcotics, prostitution, assassination, etc.. The other branch dealt with Corporate Affairs. This branch was significantly smaller, and much more careful. While Mafias do have power, challenging major businesses is never an easy thing. However, it was only a matter of time before the Redband Mafia paid MonoCorp a visit.

Reginald, in his eagerness to expand his business at any cost, agreed hastily to a meeting with some of the major corporate lawyers of the Redbands. Arrangements were made, and soon, Reginald found himself, completely alone, facing three of the most intelligent criminals in the world. Reginald kept this meeting a secret from everyone; nobody knew of it.

The Redband Mafia made Mr. Poshley an offer he couldn’t refuse, if you’ll pardon the cliche. An offer that Reginald refused. Haughtily, after refusing the offer, Reginald went on to threaten to use his corporate power to completely destroy the Redbands. They didn’t like this.

A well informed Redband agent confirmed that Mr. Poshley had not left any discoverable evidence or hints as to the fact that the meeting had ever took place. The Redband Underbosses agreed that Reginald Poshley had to be whacked.
And he was.

Mr. Poshley was returning from work to his private estate. He was going to review his Redband data, which included detailed accounts of all of the illegal activity he may have involved himself in. This data bank was found in one place and one place only: his personal computer.

As he was about to sit down, the power in his estate flickered on and off. As the power steadied again, some things had changed. The first thing that changed was the Redband data file. Note that the term “changed” may not be entirely appropriate. A better choice of words would be “disappeared permanently”. The second thing that changed was the security camera feed. A loop was played, displaying the same carfully selected image over and over to the security center of the estate.

At gunpoint, Reginald was taken to the roof of his estate. The escort in question was a trained hitman known on the street as Red, with expertise in avoiding suspicion. Red produced a bottle of extremely potent vodka from his coat. This particular type of vodka was Reginald’s favorite brand, one he drank regularly. Red forced Reginald to down half of the bottle. Reginald, who was a man who could handle his liquor, remained sober enough to guess as to what was going on.
He was wrong, however.

Red walked Reginald to the edge of the roof. He placed the bottle into Reginald’s hand, and with a final “Ciao, Mister P.” pushed him expertly off the roof. Reginald fell six stories, and smashed into the concrete at a fatal speed, killing him instantly.

Soon, the news had spread all around the world that the esteemed businessman, Richard F. Poshley, 53, had committed suicide by leaping from his roof, after consuming a heavy amount of alcohol. The Redbands, satisfied, bumped Red up a couple of Ranks, and proceeded to continue with their usual business.

Poshley was dead, that is true. He was not, however, gone.

Reginald awoke in what seemed to be utter dark. He couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t feel anything, hear anything, smell anything. It was as if his thoughts had been torn from his physical body and flung into a realm of utter nothing.
However, a small, white light appeared in the distance. It rushed closer and closer, gaining the shape of an orb, until it was what seemed to Poshley to be about ten feet away.

Poshley tried speaking, and found that he could. He asked the orb the only sensible thing that came into his mind:
“Where am I?”

The orb spoke then, in a voice that Poshley subconsciously thought as strangely unfitting for an entity encountered in the apparent afterlife.
“I dunno, kid. You tell me. No wait, don’t. Listen up. I’m gonna give ya a second chance up there. I’m fuckin’ bored here, I need somethin’ ta do. But hey, none o’ this human bullshit. See how far being a human got ya’ after that little trip. You may find yer new form a bit diff’rent. Tough shit, it’ll probably help ya out anyway. So yeah. You’re goin’ back to life, now.”
Poshley finally found the words to speak again.
“What do I do?”
The orb answered as follows:
“Whatever the fuck you wanna’ do, P. Whatever the fuck you wanna’ do.”
Poshley, confused, began to ascend, or perhaps the orb began to descend. At any rate, he felt that he was moving out of the darkness. Suddenly, he jerked to a stop.
“Waitwaitwaitwait.” The orb floated back over to his thought-being. “Let’s mix things up a little.” It sounded eager, almost sinister.
“For starters, you should fit your name. I dunno, with such a cliché name, you oughta match it. Yeah, that’ll do nicely.”
Poshley felt different somehow. Changed, mentally, though he was so detatched from any sense of reality that he really couldn’t tell what was different.
“Oh oh I know. New goals, new mindset, new body… it’s like you're a different person now! Have fun, bucko.”
Poshley could no longer speak. The orb seemed to give off the impression that it was waving at him, though Poshley could find no way that that would actually make sense.
Suddenly, everything blurred, until a fierce white light blinded him completely. All of his senses began to fade, until he effectively blacked out.

Poshley awoke on the street in front of a warehouse somewhere close to the city limits. He rose up, groggily, until his thoughts suddenly snapped to the fact that what seemed to be one second ago, he had been falling from his mansion and about to hit the ground at a speed that he was sure would have killed him. Then he remembered: it did.
Poshley felt different. He glanced down, and noticed two things. One: He was wearing a sort of elegant black trenchcoat. Two: He was a silhouette outlined in white.
Rather than recoiling, or shouting out in surprise or astonishment, as a normal human would have done, he simply chuckled. His voice sounded different; slightly older, and more sophisticated. It had a nice sort of elegant charm to it. He assessed that for a bit, and then realized that he wasn’t himself anymore. He was somebody new. He liked that feeling; he seemed extremely refined. He stooped in front of a pool of water to examine himself more closely.
He was tall, he could tell that much. He wore an enormous sort of top hat, as well as a cracked monocle. The monocle shone with a piercing white glare. All in all, he looked rather dashing, if he did say so himself. He flexed, experimentally. His movements felt and appeared fluid and easy.

It was then that he heard a noise from the warehouse. A loud crash, as if something big had fallen, followed by a stream of extremely obscene cursing. Curious, Poshley walked closer. He snuck a glance from around a corner.
There were two men sitting down in chairs that looked like they had previously stood under a large metal table, said table now lying on the floor along with a scattering of cards and dollar bills.
“You dumb shit, you want someone to hear us? This is private property, you fuck!” The speaker seemed young, in his twenties perhaps. He wore a red bandana around his neck, signifying him as an officer of the Redband Mafia.
“Sorry Red, Jesus, don’t get so pissed, man!”
Something about that name and the mafia seemed to click in his mind: These people killed him. They ruined his business empire and shoved him off of the roof of his own home. Poshley quickly ducked behind the wall of the warehouse. He wanted to learn more, to hear more…
He found that the white outline had disappeared from his body. He switched it experimentally on and off, finding that he could turn himself into shadow, into complete dark. He changed back to his shadow form, and found that he could slide along the ground and walls, just as a normal shadow did.
He slid inside the warehouse, carefully, avoiding detection.
“Damn, Red, ever since that promotion, you’ve really been an asshole.”
“Shut the fuck up, Steve. I earned this bandana, and the respect it commands.”
“Yeah, yeah….”
Red slammed his fist down on the table, quickly and angrily. “Don’t ‘Yeah, yeah’ me! I killed Poshley, you fuck! I did the family a major favor!”
The other man, as if coming to a realization, replaced his sheepish, sullen demeanor with one of admiration. “How’d ya do it, Red? I heard that guy had top security.”
Red went on to describe, with relish, the way he snuck past the security center, dragged the ‘helpless old jerk’ to the top of the roof, then threw him off, making it look like a suicide.
Poshley’s careful demeanor slid away, leaving behind a burning anger. He began to slide along the floor, slowly, towards the back of Red’s chair. He reached the chair, then rose up out of the ground, looming behind Red. His monocle flashed, and the white outlines were back.
“Holy shit!” the other man exclaimed. Instinctively, without thought, Poshley’s arm shot up and out. Red, who was extremely well trained in the art of combat, managed to duck, as Poshley’s arm flew over his head, stretching out, before slamming straight through the other man. The force of the attack sent the man smashing against the wall of the small warehouse, causing it to collapse on top of them. Poshley, disoriented, rose out of the wreckage, looking from side to side for Red. The dust that had been stirred up from the collapse obscured his vision, however, and by the time it settled, Red was nowhere to be found.
The previous Poshley, the one who had lived before the assassination, would have screamed in pure, unadulterated anger. However, the new Poshley simply tutted, as if the whole thing were nothing but a minor inconvenience.

It is here that I would like to announce the fact that I cannot possibly go on writing this story so in depth anymore because I am a lazy fuck.

OKAY important things that I don’t want to write out:
Poshley has become the leader of his own mafia through various thing stuffs. They deal mainly in gambling and shipping, as well as some narcotics. Poshley rules from behind, he has someone to act as Don for him. Because obviously a lot of people would be freaked the fuck out by him. So yeah.

OKAY WOW THAT TOOK A LONG TIME

Poshley, Red, Redband Mafia, etc. © Milesmagnificent
Art © Milesmagnificent
Story © Milesmagnificent

MINE MINE MINE