Post by RHYS SPRINTER on Mar 30, 2010 16:07:36 GMT -5
...Rhys Jamal Sprinter*
*Run, run run, as fast as you can...*
[/size]*Run, run run, as fast as you can...*
*THESE PICTURES MUST FIT SIDE BY SIDE
...basics*
name Rhyss Jamal Sprinter
nickname None
age Twenty-seven
gender male
grade Not Applicable
hometown Kissimmee, Florida
sexuality Straight
personification The Gingerbread Man
...appearance*
hair color Dark Brown
eye color Blue
build Slightly Muscular
height 6"4
clothing style Casual, even for business
distinctive traits None
...personal*
personality Rhys is of two minds about himself. Sometimes he can be pretty sweet, outgoing and caring, but sometimes someone else takes over, and he turns into a bit of a jerk. Not by much, mind you, but he can take a sudden interest in reeking havoc and being particularly mischievous.
He can also be incredibly stubborn, and when he gets like that its better to leave him be, and let him back himself into a corner. Usually then, he's pretty amenable to any help he can get.
Rhys is pretty competitive, and he doesn't like losing. He's not really a sore loser, but its close. He's involved in alot of sports, and takes them very seriously. Rhys is slightly obsessed with winning, also, something that leaked over to his business side and helped it flourish.
past Kissimmee was the home Rhys and his father shared till he was about 20 years old. His old man had owned and operated a well known bakery for as long as Rhys could remember. They lived in the apartment over the shop, and from his bedroom window Rhys could see the distant shiny buildings of businessmen, and knew he wanted one. He grew up learning and working in the place, and at seven years old sold his very first ware: a sheet of gingerbread. Everyone insisted it was the best, and that he had his father's talent for baking, but Rhys paid no attention to no one's praise but his dad's.
Elementary and high schools were pretty straight forward. Rhys was an ok student, but threw himself into every sport he came across. He was, and still is, addicted to winning. This obsession did not, to his father's mystification, translate over to his studies, as Rhys was perfectly content to scribble down answers to homework ten minutes before it was due.
On the morning of his eighteenth birthday, Rhys went down to the store to set up, not knowing that that day would not be like any other. Half an hour before the store was set to open, he went back up to check on his dad, and what he found nearly broke him. In a daze, he'd called an ambulance, closed the store and gathered all the pertinent papers and such. Two hours later he was arranging for his father's burial. It was a sad, sad July morning.
For weeks Rhys worked in the store, nearly blind to the frequent well wishers that popped in on him. Another week later and he'd found out just how much his dad's business had been worth, and then Rhys woke up. Well, not exactly. He just threw himself into furthering his dad's company's hold on the economic world with a fire that was slightly frightening. But after a few weeks, he calmed down. Stopped going days without sleep and a coffee cup glued to his lips. He laughed more. His neighbours saw him out and about more, and assumed he'd finally grieved for his old man. And they were right. But only a little.
That October saw brand new staff in Gingey's Sweet Meats of Kissimmee, Florida, and two new locations, one in Miami and another in Allendale, New Jersey. December brought Gingey's to Avon, NJ, and Atlanta, Georgia. By the next May, Rhys was sitting on an empire.
present Now Rhys resides in New York, where he has his very own tall, shiny building. His baking empire, now consisting of some three hundred storefronts and twelve production factories, was doing pretty well, if he said so himself. He's pretty shrewd when it comes to business, and he doesn't think its bragging to say so; he had built a multi-million dollar empire in under ten years.
He spends his free time, the little that he has, baking, though he doesn't have to. Even though he's filthy rich and doesn't have to do more than get up and breathe in the morning, he still finds it more than peaceful to whip up a batch of crepe's when he's bored or can't sleep. Nothing he makes goes to waste, either; he contributes it to the small catering services Gingey's provides.
He's currently voluteering at Baum Academy, since he's such a sports buff. In truth, he was supposed to the volunteer business lecturer or something, but he saw the pitiful track team and forgot all about it.
family Eric Jamaal Sprinter, dad
he never knew his mum, go figure.
likes SPORTS
winning
girls
skirts
girls in skirts
icing
gingerbread
baking
dislikes Idiots
rules (outside of sports)
answering machines
someone messing up his food
problems at any of his bakeries
stripes
other notes None that I can think of.....
...literature*
book title The Gingerbread Man
backstory In the 1875 St. Nicholas tale, a childless old woman bakes a gingerbread boy who leaps from her oven and runs away. The woman and her husband give chase but fail to catch him. The gingerbread boy then outruns several farm workers and farm animals while taunting them with the phrase:
I've run away from a little old woman,
A little old man,
And I can run away from you, I can!
The tale ends with a fox catching and eating the gingerbread boy who cries as he's devoured, "I'm quarter gone...I'm half gone...I'm three-quarters gone...I'm all gone!" - a detail often omitted in subsequent versions.[1]
In some retellings, The Gingerbread Boy taunts his pursuers with:
Run, run as fast as you can;
You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man.[1]
Thank you, Wikipedia!
...roleplayer*
name Trey
age old enuff
gender she
rp experience Almost three years
how you found ouacI own it's mommy
rp sample It's a little known fact, but Mack had a sweet tooth. It was even lesser known that said sweet tooth could easily dwarf the taller buildings in Manhattan. But it was Saturday, Emily had a thing, Cory was avoiding her, and Mack needed the sugar.
Thus, the bakery.
Now, while most people preferred chocolates and candies, Mack's weakness was baked goods: Muffins and cupcakes and cakes, tarts, pastries, cookies, that sort of thing. On average, she could spend more than an hour and more than two weeks of lunch money in this place, which was why she limited herself to visiting once a month.
Months were very, very long.....
Heaving a giant sigh, Mack hugged her coat closer to her and pushed the door to the bakery open. Instantly warm air and sweet scents slammed into her, and already her blood started to pump joyfully through her. Walking up to the counter, Mack could barely suppress her giddiness, and could only settle for staring at all the sweets lined out before her in unmitigated glee. Chocolate and chocolate chocolate chip cookies, Cupcakes of all sizes, blueberry muffins and mounds upon mounds of icing....Mack was pretty sure she was in heaven....
"Hey, miss, can I help you?"
Mack blinked, unaccustomed t such rude behaviour when in this place. The boy, young and covered with freckles and pimples was new. Mack frowned. She hated new people. Especially ones that tried to be rude.
"I'll let you know when I'm good and ready, thank you. I do, after all have to peruse your fair before I purchase it, do I not?" she snapped acidly. Normally, Mack was absolutely mild tempered, but anyone trying to get in the way of her sugar haze had better back down. And do it quickly.
