Post by fagin on Feb 28, 2010 8:32:10 GMT -5
ooc: Due to the hecticness of putting on our production of 'Oliver!' this may take awhile to complete. But I had a little time on my hands so I thought I'd make a start. ^^
March 20th: Sorry it's taken so long but at last, 'tis complete! ^^ I hope its is to your satisfaction! C:
Hi, my name is Nessie and this is my first character. I found this site through an advertisement on fanfiction.net, where I reside as a fanatic author. Something you should know about me is I have just completeted my run playing Fagin in my school's production of 'Oliver!'.
Canon: Oliver Twist, by Charles Dickens
Custom Title: Reviewing The Situation
PHYSICAL
Age: Early fifties
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Height: Quite short and stooped in stature; standing at his full height he's about five feet, four inches tall.
Body: Fagin is as scrawny as they come, not only that but short to boot. He is not very well endowed in the muscle department either; a fact he is not particularly proud of, especially when confronted with his many adversaries.
Other distinguishing features: His tangle of matted greying ginger hair, his fingerless gloves, capacious green overcoat and broad brimmed hat
Wardrobe: Stylish isn’t a word one would use when describing Fagin’s usual attire. For one thing, his garments never match and were usually scrounged from a refuse bin or purchased as cheaply as possible from a thrift store. Because of this all his clothes are tattered and frayed; many of them clumsily patched, almost all of them stained. He is almost always never seen without a pair of fingerless gloves on his hands, although they do little to keep him warm and show his bitten fingernails. His most treasured item of clothing is his capacious green overcoat; it has lots of pockets sewn on the inside in which to stow stolen goods. [/ul]
Play By: Timothy Spall
PERSONALITY
General personality:
Fagin tends to be a bit befuddled when it comes to which side he's on. Yes, he lives his life on the wrong side of the law, but other than that he's an OK guy...isn't he? Can a fellow really be a villain all his life? Is it possible for him to change his ways? Dare he attempt it?
Fagin wasn't always the criminal he sees himself as now. He used to be a relativley respectable gent considering his class, working to inherit the family pawn shop when his father passed on. But the business didn't pay as well as he thought, and he turned to thieving in an attempt to support himself.
At first glance, one can tell that Fagin is a paranoid individual; a part of his personality that many take advantage of. He is almost always in a state of nervous anxiety, wringing his hands or drumming his fingers on whatever surface comes to hand, chewing on his lower lip as he does so. He’s constantly checking over his shoulder and his eyes dart about a lot, constantly on the lookout. He has a tendency to wring his hands, especially when agitated, and stammers and stutters a lot when he speaks. His voice in itself is very unusual; thin and reedy, with a slight gravelling undertone, as if he’s been eating sandpaper.
Fagin can be kind and friendly when he wants to be, if only to appease his betters. For the most part his kindness and generousity is a façade; he does not trust or make friends easily at all. However, underneath his shabby exterior, he really does have a heart of gold.
Quotes, frequently used expressions: Seems to call everyone 'my dear' whether they like it or not
Likes:
Dislikes:
Strengths: Pickpocketing, lying, coming up with so called ingenious schemes
Weaknesses: A degree of paranoia, weakness both physically and in relation to gin, easily swayed by money
BACKGROUND
Family:
Father: Elijah Fagin - Deceased
Mother: Olesya Fagin - Deceased
Younger Brother: Ezra Fagin - Died young
Education: Little to none; he can read and write but not very decentley, his writing looks similar to that of a five year old. Due to his time spent in New York his English far surpasses his Polish in terms of fluency and vocabulary, although he speaks with a slight accent
Occupation: Pawn shop owner/ex-pickpocket/fence
Worst past experience: The death of young Ezra, when he was just two years of age. Their part of the neighbourhood had been badly hit by the flu during the winter, and Ira's frail younger brother did not survive. Despite the fact there was nothing he could have done, Fagin was wracked with guilt and remains so when the painful memory resurfaces.
Best past experience: Fagin's best past experience was also tinged with sadness. It was the day he took over his father's business, Elijah having left it to him on his deathbed. Fagin was glad to at last be earning some money of his own and making his way in the world, though as it turned out things didn't go according to plan.
Image:
Those unaware of Fagin's criminality see him merely as a reserved and somewhat eccentric old man who makes his living in rather grim circumstances. He and his job are often frowned upon as many people choose to percieve him as exploiting others for a his own gain.
Those who do know of Fagin's pickpocketing ways know him better. Although paranoid, the man is still almost as cunning as a fox and has a few tricks up his tattered sleeve.
History:
Ira Fagin was born and raised in Warsaw, where his parents worked full time running a small but profitable book stall. Unfortunatley the business fell on hard times, and his parents resolved to leave Poland with what money they had and start anew in New York; to live the American Dream.
Things did not go as well as they had hoped, and the three soon found themselves running not a bookshop as they once had done, but a small pawnshop in a very run down and grimy part of the city. It was just around the time the new business was getting underway that Ezra was born. His mother had her hands full looking after him and so Ira worked alongside his father learning the tricks of the trade. They lived quite comfortably on what little they could get for a couple of years until one winter their neighbourhood suffered greatly as a result of the flu. Young Ezra did not live to see his third birthday. Only a few months after Ezra's death his mother also passed away, suppossedly of grief for her son and the family's declining fortunes. This in turn changed Elijah's outlook on life; he had seen so many years of hardship that it became increasingly difficult for him to cope, life became a great struggle for him. Ira helped his father as much as he could, practically running the business himself by the time Elijah passed away just a year shy of seventy.
Fagin, alone in the world, managed to content himself for awhile with simply running the business as he had done for the past few years and simply live out life as best he could. But what little money he gained from his line of work wasn't enough to satisfy him; he wanted to do something more than run this business till he died. However he didn't want to simply abadon the shop; it held too many memories and experiences for him to simply throw it aside, even if selling the place would get him money.
Seeing no other way to bring in some cash, Fagin tried his hand at picking pockets. He'd seen lads at it on many an occassion on his street a lone but had soon learnt it wise not to try and stop them. Now he was becoming one of them...walking on the wrong side of the law.
It was an unusual position, having been a relativley good citezen for the majority of his life. But as time passed Fagin came to delight in his pickpocketing ways, although which every purse pilched from his paranoia increased; the police were much better at their jobs now than they had been in previous years.
Despite the enjoyment he got out of picking pockets, Fagin knew it couldn't last. He was becoming far too obvious at his age. It was at this point in his life that he set up his fencing business in the back room of the pawn shop; he recieved stolen goods and sold them off, splitting the profits between himself and his clients, albiet very unfairly. This landed him in a few sticky situations, which he somehow managed to worm his way out of. He soon built up a vast network of criminal acquaintances spanning the length and breadth of the city; if you need to find someone to do your dirty work Fagin will most likely know the person in question and their current location.
At present Fagin continues his double life; 'respectable' citezen by day and fence by night. Yet on many an occassion he's considered giving up his criminality but always returns to the same conclusion; once a villian you're a villian to the end.
THE SAMPLE
In Character Sample:
It was a slow day. There'd been hardly anyone in the shop at all, save for a very shifty looking bloke who seemed very anxious to deposit what appeared to be a diamond engagement ring. Fagin had to admit he was curious but decided to to pursue the matter; more often than not his customers weren't willing to share their stories and grew suspicious of him when he asked.
The neccessary transactions being completed and the man gone, Fagin turned his attention to his kettle, a battered plastic affair which had seen better days, whistling irritably to indicate the water for his tea had been boiled. Extracting a somewhat dusty teabag from his desk drawer, Fagin placed it into his usual mug and poured in the water, wincing a little as some of the boiling liquid decided to head for his hand and not the mug as it ought to.
'This is actually quite pleasant,' Fagin thought to himself as he took a sip, nearly scalding his tongue but thinking little of it as it always seemed to happen. 'Just sitting here with my tea and my thoughtsm watching the world go by...'
In truth it was hard to watch the world go by when the windows of his shop were caked in a thin layer of dust and grime. Fagin figured he should get round to washing them, but at that point he was simply content to sit and attempt to discern the outside world through the dirt.
Outside the streets were relativley busy as pedestrians and motorists alike clogged the roads and pavements on their way to work. But inside the pawnshop it was as though the outside world didn't exist; a shabby, dusty, quiet room, with just the steady ticking of a clock to indicate the passage of time in a place which seemed immobilized.
Having contented himself with his brief period of people watching, Fagin drained the rest of his mug, set it down, and pulled out a box from beneath the desk; a wobegone and tattered cardboard affair which contained his few treasured possessions. He often spent a few minutes of his day examining these particullarly special wares, for reasons he still was unsure of after all these years.
Just as he'd pulled the box from its hiding place the door to the shop was flung open, and in hurried a young couple, the woman looking to be on the verge of tears. Fagin hurriedly replaced the box and stood up to meet them, wincing at little as he attempted to straighten his hunched posture.
"Good day, my dears," he said cordially. "And what might I be able to do for you?"
March 20th: Sorry it's taken so long but at last, 'tis complete! ^^ I hope its is to your satisfaction! C:
Hi, my name is Nessie and this is my first character. I found this site through an advertisement on fanfiction.net, where I reside as a fanatic author. Something you should know about me is I have just completeted my run playing Fagin in my school's production of 'Oliver!'.
Ira Fagin
Low Class
Low Class
Canon: Oliver Twist, by Charles Dickens
Custom Title: Reviewing The Situation
PHYSICAL
Age: Early fifties
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Height: Quite short and stooped in stature; standing at his full height he's about five feet, four inches tall.
Body: Fagin is as scrawny as they come, not only that but short to boot. He is not very well endowed in the muscle department either; a fact he is not particularly proud of, especially when confronted with his many adversaries.
Other distinguishing features: His tangle of matted greying ginger hair, his fingerless gloves, capacious green overcoat and broad brimmed hat
Wardrobe: Stylish isn’t a word one would use when describing Fagin’s usual attire. For one thing, his garments never match and were usually scrounged from a refuse bin or purchased as cheaply as possible from a thrift store. Because of this all his clothes are tattered and frayed; many of them clumsily patched, almost all of them stained. He is almost always never seen without a pair of fingerless gloves on his hands, although they do little to keep him warm and show his bitten fingernails. His most treasured item of clothing is his capacious green overcoat; it has lots of pockets sewn on the inside in which to stow stolen goods. [/ul]
Play By: Timothy Spall
PERSONALITY
General personality:
Fagin tends to be a bit befuddled when it comes to which side he's on. Yes, he lives his life on the wrong side of the law, but other than that he's an OK guy...isn't he? Can a fellow really be a villain all his life? Is it possible for him to change his ways? Dare he attempt it?
Fagin wasn't always the criminal he sees himself as now. He used to be a relativley respectable gent considering his class, working to inherit the family pawn shop when his father passed on. But the business didn't pay as well as he thought, and he turned to thieving in an attempt to support himself.
At first glance, one can tell that Fagin is a paranoid individual; a part of his personality that many take advantage of. He is almost always in a state of nervous anxiety, wringing his hands or drumming his fingers on whatever surface comes to hand, chewing on his lower lip as he does so. He’s constantly checking over his shoulder and his eyes dart about a lot, constantly on the lookout. He has a tendency to wring his hands, especially when agitated, and stammers and stutters a lot when he speaks. His voice in itself is very unusual; thin and reedy, with a slight gravelling undertone, as if he’s been eating sandpaper.
Fagin can be kind and friendly when he wants to be, if only to appease his betters. For the most part his kindness and generousity is a façade; he does not trust or make friends easily at all. However, underneath his shabby exterior, he really does have a heart of gold.
Quotes, frequently used expressions: Seems to call everyone 'my dear' whether they like it or not
Likes:
- The acquisition of money (and keeping it to himself)
- Gin
- Shiny objects
- Staying out of trouble
- Relative peace and quiet
Dislikes:
- The police
- Violence/fighting of any kind
- The social hierarchy (that or his place on it)
- Winter
- Having his plans fail
Strengths: Pickpocketing, lying, coming up with so called ingenious schemes
Weaknesses: A degree of paranoia, weakness both physically and in relation to gin, easily swayed by money
BACKGROUND
Family:
Father: Elijah Fagin - Deceased
Mother: Olesya Fagin - Deceased
Younger Brother: Ezra Fagin - Died young
Education: Little to none; he can read and write but not very decentley, his writing looks similar to that of a five year old. Due to his time spent in New York his English far surpasses his Polish in terms of fluency and vocabulary, although he speaks with a slight accent
Occupation: Pawn shop owner/ex-pickpocket/fence
Worst past experience: The death of young Ezra, when he was just two years of age. Their part of the neighbourhood had been badly hit by the flu during the winter, and Ira's frail younger brother did not survive. Despite the fact there was nothing he could have done, Fagin was wracked with guilt and remains so when the painful memory resurfaces.
Best past experience: Fagin's best past experience was also tinged with sadness. It was the day he took over his father's business, Elijah having left it to him on his deathbed. Fagin was glad to at last be earning some money of his own and making his way in the world, though as it turned out things didn't go according to plan.
Image:
Those unaware of Fagin's criminality see him merely as a reserved and somewhat eccentric old man who makes his living in rather grim circumstances. He and his job are often frowned upon as many people choose to percieve him as exploiting others for a his own gain.
Those who do know of Fagin's pickpocketing ways know him better. Although paranoid, the man is still almost as cunning as a fox and has a few tricks up his tattered sleeve.
History:
Ira Fagin was born and raised in Warsaw, where his parents worked full time running a small but profitable book stall. Unfortunatley the business fell on hard times, and his parents resolved to leave Poland with what money they had and start anew in New York; to live the American Dream.
Things did not go as well as they had hoped, and the three soon found themselves running not a bookshop as they once had done, but a small pawnshop in a very run down and grimy part of the city. It was just around the time the new business was getting underway that Ezra was born. His mother had her hands full looking after him and so Ira worked alongside his father learning the tricks of the trade. They lived quite comfortably on what little they could get for a couple of years until one winter their neighbourhood suffered greatly as a result of the flu. Young Ezra did not live to see his third birthday. Only a few months after Ezra's death his mother also passed away, suppossedly of grief for her son and the family's declining fortunes. This in turn changed Elijah's outlook on life; he had seen so many years of hardship that it became increasingly difficult for him to cope, life became a great struggle for him. Ira helped his father as much as he could, practically running the business himself by the time Elijah passed away just a year shy of seventy.
Fagin, alone in the world, managed to content himself for awhile with simply running the business as he had done for the past few years and simply live out life as best he could. But what little money he gained from his line of work wasn't enough to satisfy him; he wanted to do something more than run this business till he died. However he didn't want to simply abadon the shop; it held too many memories and experiences for him to simply throw it aside, even if selling the place would get him money.
Seeing no other way to bring in some cash, Fagin tried his hand at picking pockets. He'd seen lads at it on many an occassion on his street a lone but had soon learnt it wise not to try and stop them. Now he was becoming one of them...walking on the wrong side of the law.
It was an unusual position, having been a relativley good citezen for the majority of his life. But as time passed Fagin came to delight in his pickpocketing ways, although which every purse pilched from his paranoia increased; the police were much better at their jobs now than they had been in previous years.
Despite the enjoyment he got out of picking pockets, Fagin knew it couldn't last. He was becoming far too obvious at his age. It was at this point in his life that he set up his fencing business in the back room of the pawn shop; he recieved stolen goods and sold them off, splitting the profits between himself and his clients, albiet very unfairly. This landed him in a few sticky situations, which he somehow managed to worm his way out of. He soon built up a vast network of criminal acquaintances spanning the length and breadth of the city; if you need to find someone to do your dirty work Fagin will most likely know the person in question and their current location.
At present Fagin continues his double life; 'respectable' citezen by day and fence by night. Yet on many an occassion he's considered giving up his criminality but always returns to the same conclusion; once a villian you're a villian to the end.
THE SAMPLE
In Character Sample:
It was a slow day. There'd been hardly anyone in the shop at all, save for a very shifty looking bloke who seemed very anxious to deposit what appeared to be a diamond engagement ring. Fagin had to admit he was curious but decided to to pursue the matter; more often than not his customers weren't willing to share their stories and grew suspicious of him when he asked.
The neccessary transactions being completed and the man gone, Fagin turned his attention to his kettle, a battered plastic affair which had seen better days, whistling irritably to indicate the water for his tea had been boiled. Extracting a somewhat dusty teabag from his desk drawer, Fagin placed it into his usual mug and poured in the water, wincing a little as some of the boiling liquid decided to head for his hand and not the mug as it ought to.
'This is actually quite pleasant,' Fagin thought to himself as he took a sip, nearly scalding his tongue but thinking little of it as it always seemed to happen. 'Just sitting here with my tea and my thoughtsm watching the world go by...'
In truth it was hard to watch the world go by when the windows of his shop were caked in a thin layer of dust and grime. Fagin figured he should get round to washing them, but at that point he was simply content to sit and attempt to discern the outside world through the dirt.
Outside the streets were relativley busy as pedestrians and motorists alike clogged the roads and pavements on their way to work. But inside the pawnshop it was as though the outside world didn't exist; a shabby, dusty, quiet room, with just the steady ticking of a clock to indicate the passage of time in a place which seemed immobilized.
Having contented himself with his brief period of people watching, Fagin drained the rest of his mug, set it down, and pulled out a box from beneath the desk; a wobegone and tattered cardboard affair which contained his few treasured possessions. He often spent a few minutes of his day examining these particullarly special wares, for reasons he still was unsure of after all these years.
Just as he'd pulled the box from its hiding place the door to the shop was flung open, and in hurried a young couple, the woman looking to be on the verge of tears. Fagin hurriedly replaced the box and stood up to meet them, wincing at little as he attempted to straighten his hunched posture.
"Good day, my dears," he said cordially. "And what might I be able to do for you?"
) You should at least have an avatar.
