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Nazareth Awakened [Mage: The Awakening] [OOC]
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<blockquote data-quote="Mosier" data-source="post: 6300547" data-attributes="member: 6776381"><p>Orlando Raleigh wasn't much in his previous life. "I'm at the top of the bottom," he liked to joke. His self-depreciating, friendly humor put people at ease. Opened the door, so to speak. Once that door was opened, that one little creak, that one small, tiny opportunity was all he needed. </p><p></p><p>Orlando knew exactly what he was doing. He knew that normal people would call it theft, or at least a scam. He didn't see it that way, though. He saw it as survival of the fittest. The strong devouring the weak. The circle of life. </p><p></p><p>Orlando made his living in the Vegas casinos, where the most desperately hopeful, vulnerable people lurked. Through his cleverness, he could make a convincing lie to these people. The lie was that Orlando could help them win. In their hearts, every person sees himself as smarter, more clever, more destined for greatness than their fellows. Orlando simply urged and nurtured that feeling in others, until they honestly believed that they could beat the casino by using his system. Some of them won, and happily gave Orlando a cut. Most of them lost, and never saw the con-man again.</p><p></p><p>What Orlando didn't count on was just how weak his own character was. The dope sellers have a motto, "never use your own product," but it applied to Orlando's chosen profession every bit as strongly as to the drug trade. Orlando started to gamble his own money. A lot. He knew god-damned well that he couldn't win honestly. Hell, it was his JOB to know that, yet he did it anyway, like a compulsion. </p><p></p><p>Orlando Raleigh's story ended in handcuffs, in a dingy back room in the depths of a Vegas casino. </p><p></p><p>"We recording?" the gruff voice of a man in an expensive suit asked. </p><p></p><p>"Yeah," a security guard replied.</p><p></p><p>"Too bad." The gruff man cracked his knuckles as he leaned forward. "You're not welcome here, pal. If it weren't for effort involved, I'd call every one of them mopes you robbed, and I bet at least one'd be willing to press charges. That's how new Vegas works. Lucky for you, I'm <em>old</em> Vegas. I ever see your goddamn face in this town again, the camera <em>won't</em> be recording. Understand?"</p><p></p><p>"Sure," Orlando said. </p><p></p><p>And he meant it.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Mosier, post: 6300547, member: 6776381"] Orlando Raleigh wasn't much in his previous life. "I'm at the top of the bottom," he liked to joke. His self-depreciating, friendly humor put people at ease. Opened the door, so to speak. Once that door was opened, that one little creak, that one small, tiny opportunity was all he needed. Orlando knew exactly what he was doing. He knew that normal people would call it theft, or at least a scam. He didn't see it that way, though. He saw it as survival of the fittest. The strong devouring the weak. The circle of life. Orlando made his living in the Vegas casinos, where the most desperately hopeful, vulnerable people lurked. Through his cleverness, he could make a convincing lie to these people. The lie was that Orlando could help them win. In their hearts, every person sees himself as smarter, more clever, more destined for greatness than their fellows. Orlando simply urged and nurtured that feeling in others, until they honestly believed that they could beat the casino by using his system. Some of them won, and happily gave Orlando a cut. Most of them lost, and never saw the con-man again. What Orlando didn't count on was just how weak his own character was. The dope sellers have a motto, "never use your own product," but it applied to Orlando's chosen profession every bit as strongly as to the drug trade. Orlando started to gamble his own money. A lot. He knew god-damned well that he couldn't win honestly. Hell, it was his JOB to know that, yet he did it anyway, like a compulsion. Orlando Raleigh's story ended in handcuffs, in a dingy back room in the depths of a Vegas casino. "We recording?" the gruff voice of a man in an expensive suit asked. "Yeah," a security guard replied. "Too bad." The gruff man cracked his knuckles as he leaned forward. "You're not welcome here, pal. If it weren't for effort involved, I'd call every one of them mopes you robbed, and I bet at least one'd be willing to press charges. That's how new Vegas works. Lucky for you, I'm [I]old[/I] Vegas. I ever see your goddamn face in this town again, the camera [I]won't[/I] be recording. Understand?" "Sure," Orlando said. And he meant it. [/QUOTE]
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