DIR Return Create A Forum - Home
---------------------------------------------------------
The United Roleplayer's Guild
HTML https://unitedroleplayers.createaforum.com
---------------------------------------------------------
*****************************************************
DIR Return to: WIP Profile Section
*****************************************************
#Post#: 21097--------------------------------------------------
London/New Orleans WIP: Lorenzo DeSantis
DIR By: Raven Tepes
Date: June 5, 2026, 10:34 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
“Lorenzo DeSantis is the calm before the storm — quiet, steady,
unreadable — until the moment you threaten someone he loves.
Then the storm arrives all at once. I’ve seen him drink whiskey
with the patience of a saint and tear through enemies with the
fury of a god. People think he’s cold. They don’t understand: he
feels everything, he just refuses to waste it on anyone
unworthy.”
~ Alessandro about Lorenzo
“World War II wasn’t a battlefield. It was a mirror. It showed
men what they truly were when the world stripped away their
excuses. I saw cruelty dressed as duty, cowardice disguised as
loyalty… and every now and then, a spark of real courage. The
kind that made even a monster like me stop and reconsider which
side of the fire I stood on.”
~ Lorenzo DeSantis about WWII
“Working for Alessandro isn’t obedience. It’s alignment. The man
sees ten moves ahead, and he expects you to keep pace. Most
can’t. I can. He gives me purpose without chains, direction
without arrogance. And when he says ‘family,’ he means it.
That’s why I follow him — not because he commands me, but
because he’s one of the few men in this world worth drawing my
claws for.”
~ Lorenzo DeSantis about working for Alessandro
Marco: You’re reaching for the Scotch again. Didn’t peg you for
a creature of habit.
Lorenzo: It’s not habit. It’s standards. This one’s a 1926.
Smooth enough to make a grown man rethink his life choices.
Marco: We made the Santiago boys rethink theirs tonight.
Lorenzo smirks — barely, but it’s there. Lorenzo: They came into
our territory with six men and one plan. I admire the
confidence. Not the intelligence.
Marco: You broke the leader’s wrist before he finished his
sentence.
Lorenzo: He insulted Alessandro. I was being polite.
Marco laughs, low and warm, pulling a bottle from a higher
shelf. Marco: Polite. Right. That’s what we’re calling it now.
Lorenzo: What would you call it?
Marco: A warning shot with bones.
Lorenzo shrugs, inspecting the bottle he chose. Lorenzo: They’ll
think twice before trying again. Or once, if they’re smart.
Marco: The Santiagos aren’t smart.
Lorenzo: Then they’ll think once.
Marco leans against a barrel, watching Lorenzo with that amused,
older‑brother energy he only shows in private. Marco: You
know, you’re calm until someone threatens the family. Then you
go full thunderstorm.
Lorenzo: I don’t like people touching what’s mine to protect.
Marco: Alessandro said the same thing about you.
Lorenzo pauses, just long enough for Marco to notice. Lorenzo:
…He would.
Marco: So. Whiskey or Scotch?
Lorenzo holds up the bottle he’s been cradling like a secret.
Lorenzo: Scotch. Tonight calls for something refined.
Marco: After breaking a man’s wrist?
Lorenzo: Especially after breaking a man’s wrist.
Marco grins. Marco: Pour it, then. To the Moretti family.
Lorenzo uncorks the bottle with a soft pop. Lorenzo: To the
family. And to anyone foolish enough to test us again.
They clink glasses — amber liquid catching the cellar’s warm
light — and for a moment, the world outside the stone walls
doesn’t exist. Just two immortals, a bottle of fine Scotch, and
the quiet satisfaction of a night well handled.
Name: Lorenzo DeSantis
Aliases: Vitto DeMarco, Lorenzo Moretti, Vittorio DeLuca
Age: 257 years old
Species: Werepyre (Hybrid)
Gender: Male
Height: 6'7"
Weight: 213 lbs
Organization: Moretti Mafia
~ Rank: Third-in-Command/Prime Enforcer
Known Family and Friends:
~ Father: Lorenzo DeSantis (Deceased - Werepyre - Killed by
hunters)
~ Mother: Helena Moretti (Deceased - Werepyre - Killed by
hunters)
~ Friend/Boss: Alessandro Moretti
~ Friend/Coworker: Marco DeLuca
~ Friend: Serafina Moretti
Abilities:
Special Combat Techniques:
1. Shadowstrike Voltage
Lorenzo dissolves into a streak of darkness, reappearing behind
his target in a flash of amber lightning. The strike lands
before the enemy even registers movement.
2. Blackout Tempest
He summons a swirling dome of darkness that blinds enemies while
lightning arcs wildly inside it — he alone can see through the
void.
3. Thunderfang Laceration
His claws crackle with electricity as he slashes, each strike
sending razor‑thin lightning trails that cut through armor
and magical barriers.
4. Eclipse Surge
Lorenzo compresses darkness into his chest, then releases it in
a shockwave infused with lightning. The blast knocks back foes
and disrupts magical constructs.
5. Nightflash Step
A teleportation‑like dash: he becomes a streak of shadow,
then rematerializes in a burst of amber sparks that stuns nearby
enemies.
6. Stormveil Cloak
A defensive technique where darkness wraps around him like a
living cloak while lightning dances across its surface. It
absorbs physical attacks and shocks anyone who touches him.
7. Umbra Conductor Chains
He forms chains of solidified shadow that bind enemies. Once
restrained, he channels a bolt of lightning through the chains
for a devastating finishing strike.
8. Volt‑Howl Resonance
A hybrid werepyre howl infused with lightning. The sound
vibrates the air, stunning enemies, disrupting electronics, and
causing metal to spark violently.
9. Midnight Thunderfall
Lorenzo leaps high into the air, wings unfurled, gathering
lightning between his palms. He dive‑bombs the
battlefield, releasing a vertical column of
shadow‑lightning that fractures the ground.
10. Oblivion Arc
His ultimate technique. Lorenzo summons a blade of pure darkness
wrapped in spiraling lightning. When he swings it, the attack
carves a crescent‑shaped rift that erases shadows and
electrifies everything in its path. He uses it only when
absolutely necessary.
Finishing Moves:
Lorenzo DeSantis’ Signature Finishing Move: “L’Occhio del
Temporale” — The Eye of the Storm
Concise essence:
Lorenzo traps his enemy inside a sphere of collapsing darkness,
then strikes with a single bolt of amber lightning so precise
and devastating it leaves no trace but a scorch mark shaped like
a wolf’s eye.
🌑 Phase I — The Silence of the Void
Lorenzo snaps his fingers, and the battlefield goes unnaturally
quiet.
Shadows ripple outward from his feet, forming a perfect sphere
of darkness around him and his target. Inside it:
Sound dies
Light collapses
Time feels thick, heavy, wrong
Only Lorenzo’s amber eyes glow through the void.
This is the moment enemies realize they’re already dead.
⚡ Phase II — The Lightning Conductor
He raises one hand, palm open.
Darkness coils upward like smoke, forming a spiraling helix
around his arm.
Lightning threads through it — thin at first, then brighter,
hotter, sharper.
The shadows act as a conductor, compressing the electricity
until it becomes a needle of pure amber voltage.
The air vibrates.
The sphere trembles.
The enemy can’t move — the darkness holds them in place like a
vice.
🐺 Phase III — The Wolf’s Eye
Lorenzo whispers: “Guarda il temporale.” (Look at the storm.)
The lightning collapses inward, then fires outward in a single,
surgical strike.
No explosion.
No gore.
Just a flash of amber light — and the enemy is erased, leaving
behind a wolf‑eye sigil burned into the ground, glowing
faintly before fading into smoke.
The darkness dissolves.
The world returns.
Lorenzo adjusts his suit cuff like nothing happened.
Weaknesses:
Background:
Operation Night Harrow — One of Lorenzo’s WWII Missions
Naples, Winter 1944. The city was a maze of rubble, starving
civilians, and soldiers who no longer believed in the cause they
were dying for. The Axis command, desperate and paranoid, turned
to darker assets — including the immortal predator they called
Lupo Nero.
Lorenzo DeSantis.
He didn’t care about their war. But he cared about the hunt, and
the chaos of WWII gave him endless shadows to stalk.
The Assignment
Lorenzo was ordered to eliminate a group of Allied operatives
rumored to be hiding in the Quartieri Spagnoli, using the
civilians as cover. The Axis believed these operatives were
coordinating supply drops and sabotage missions.
But the truth was more complicated.
Among those operatives was a young Italian resistance leader —
Alessandro Morreti, though Lorenzo didn’t know the name yet.
Lorenzo accepted the mission with his usual cold efficiency.
He didn’t ask why.
He didn’t ask who.
He simply moved.
The Hunt Through Naples
Night fell like a shroud.
The city’s blackout rules turned every street into a tunnel of
darkness.
Lorenzo moved across rooftops, boots silent, amber eyes glowing
faintly.
He could smell fear.
He could smell blood.
He could smell lies.
He found the operatives in an abandoned wine cellar beneath a
collapsed trattoria. But something was wrong.
They weren’t soldiers.
They were civilians — medics, smugglers, resistance fighters
trying to get children out of the city before the next bombing
run.
And standing between them and the door was a man with dark hair,
a pistol, and the calmest heartbeat Lorenzo had ever heard.
Alessandro.
The Confrontation
Lorenzo stepped into the cellar, claws half‑extended.
“You’re in my way,” he said.
Alessandro didn’t flinch.
“Then you’ll have to move me.”
Lorenzo lunged.
Alessandro blocked.
The two immortals crashed through stone walls, sending dust and
wine barrels exploding around them.
But as they fought, Lorenzo noticed something:
Alessandro wasn’t protecting soldiers.
He was protecting children.
And when Axis troops arrived outside — far earlier than expected
— Alessandro didn’t run. He stood his ground, buying time for
the civilians to escape through a hidden tunnel.
Lorenzo paused.
For the first time in decades, he hesitated.
The Choice
The Axis commander shouted from outside:
“DeSantis! Kill them all!”
Lorenzo looked at Alessandro — bruised, bleeding, but unbroken.
Then he looked at the terrified children behind him.
Something ancient stirred in Lorenzo’s chest.
Not mercy.
Not morality.
But respect.
He turned toward the door.
And slaughtered the Axis squad instead.
Not graphically — just decisively, efficiently, with the cold
precision of a creature who had killed for centuries.
When the dust settled, Alessandro stared at him, stunned.
“Why?” he asked.
Lorenzo shrugged.
“They lied to me. I don’t like being lied to.”
The Aftermath
Alessandro led the civilians to safety.
Lorenzo vanished into the night.
But the next evening, Alessandro found him sitting on a rooftop
overlooking the harbor, watching the Allied ships approach.
“You could have left,” Alessandro said.
“I did,” Lorenzo replied. “But I came back.”
That was the beginning.
The war would end soon.
But their partnership — the bond between Alessandro Morreti and
Lorenzo DeSantis — would shape the next century of the Italian
underworld.
*****************************************************
Page 1 of 1