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VAGO HISTORY IN THE EARLY SIXTIES THIRTEEN FRIENDS STARTED A MOTORCYCLE CLUB IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA. FOR YEARS MANY HAVE PASSED STORIES AROUND, THIS IS THE REAL STORY OF HOW THE VAGOS MOTORCYCLE CLUB WAS ORIGINATED FROM ONE OF THE LAST OF THE FIRST 13 ORIGINAL MEMBERS AND FOUNDERS. ON MAY 18TH ON THE CORNER OF EIGHTH AND DAVIDSON IN SAN BERNARDINO, CALIFORNIA A MOTORCYCLE CLUB WAS ORIGINATED. ORIGINALLY TWO OTHER NAMES WERE CONSIDERED, COFFIN DODGERS MC AND SATAN SAINTS MC THE NAME VAGOS MC WAS SUGGESTED BY VAGO PURO AND VOTED ON. THEN THE EMBLEM HAD TO BE CHOSEN. VAGO LUCKY WAS BROWSING THROUGH LIFE MAGAZINE AND FOUND A PICTURE OF A DEVIL COMING OUT OF THE GROUND SURROUNDED BY SMOKE, THE CAPTION READ “RETURN FROM HELL.” VAGOS ANIMAL AND LUCKY PRESENTED THE PICTURE TO THE OTHER MEMBERS FOR VOTE AND IT PASSED. THE COLORS WERE CHOSEN BY WHITEY AND PURO. THE COLOR CHOSEN WAS GREEN ON GREEN WITH THE DEVIL IN RED. AFTER THE VOTE, VAGO MOOSE WAS CHOSEN TO DRAW THE CENTER PIECE. ONE PERCENTER SCENE THE TRIANGULAR CENTER PATCH REINFORCED THE “V” OF VAGOS AND DEPICTED LOKI. THE NAME VAGOS, THOUGH SOUNDING VAGUELY HISPANIC, ACTUALLY STEMMED FROM THE WORD “VAGABOND” - MOVING AROUND - AND ITS MEMBERSHIP IS 70 PERCENT WHITE. OUTLAW BIKER GANGS PROUDLY FLY THEIR “CUTS”, DENIM OR LEATHER SLEEVELESS VESTS ADORNED WITH CODED PATCHES THAT SIGNIFIED A MEMBER’S CRIMINAL AND SEXUAL ACHIEVEMENTS. THEY WANTED THE PUBLIC TO KNOW THEY WERE OUTLAWS, SO-CALLED ONE PERCENTERS WHO REPRESENTED A MINORITY OF MOTORCYCLE ENTHUSIASTS RESPONSIBLE FOR COMMITTING 99 PERCENT OF ALL CRIME. VAGOS HAD BECOME THE LARGEST AND ONE OF THE MOST VIOLENT OF CALIFORNIA’S BIKER GANGS, A GRAB BAG OF WEEKEND REBELS, GEARHEADS, EX-CONS AND VIOLENT SOCIOPATHS ENGAGED IN A WHOLE LAUNDRY LIST OF CRIMINAL ACTIVITIES, FROM GUN AND DRUG TRAFFICKING TO ASSAULT AND MURDER. THEY WEAR A PATCH ON THEIR CUTS THAT PROCLAIMS WE GIVE WHAT WE GET. IN OTHER WORDS, GIVE US RESPECT AND RESPECT IS RETURNED. IF NOT, YOU’LL PAY THE PRICE. CRIMINAL RECORD “THE VAGOS ARE A RUTHLESS CRIMINAL BIKER GANG THAT VIRTUALLY HELD OUR COMMUNITIES HOSTAGE” BY DEALING IN “GUNS, DRUGS AND DEATH”, SAID JOHN TORRES, A SPECIAL AGENT IN CHARGE WITH THE ATF. “OPERATION 22 GREEN” AS IT WAS CALLED, TARGETED VAGOS ASSOCIATES IN FIVE SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA COUNTIES. GREEN IS THE CLUB’S CHOSEN COLOR AND 22 CORRESPONDS TO V, THE 22ND LETTER OF THE ALPHABET. MORE THAN 80 SEARCH AND ARREST WARRANTS WERE ISSUED AND 25 PEOPLE WERE TAKEN INTO CUSTODY ON FEDERAL OR STATE CHARGES THAT INCLUDED FIREARMS AND DRUG VIOLATIONS. IN THE MEDIA MARCH 5, 2010. A MEMBER OF THE HEMET GANG TASK FORCE RETURNS TO HIS UNMARKED POLICE CAR WHICH WAS PARKED OUTSIDE OF A CONVENIENCE STORE. HE DISCOVERS THAT THERE IS A HOMEMADE PIPE BOMB WHICH HAS BEEN HIDDEN UNDERNEATH THE CAR. AUGUST, 2011. VAGOS MOTORCYCLE CLUB ARE INVOLVED IN A SHOOTING WITH GALLOPING GOOSE MOTORCYCLE CLUB NEAR WAYNESVILLE, MISSOURI. THE FIGHT INVOLVED APPROXIMATELY 20 PEOPLE. 16 JUNE, 2017. 23 MEMBERS OF THE VAGOS MOTORCYCLE CLUB, INCLUDING SEVERAL HIGH-RANKING OFFICERS, ARE ARRESTED IN AN OPERATION THAT SPREAD ACROSS CALIFORNIA, HAWAII AND NEVADA AND ARE ACCUSED OF MURDER, RACKETEERING, KIDNAP, ASSAULT AND DRUG DEALING. 29 JULY, 2017. IN SANTA FE, NEW MEXICO, VAGOS MC MEMBER DAVID ANDREW CORDOVA AND HIS SON DAVID RAY CORDOVA FIRED OVER 20 SHOTS FROM A CAR AT A HOME OF A BANDIDOS MC MEMBER. DAVID ANDREW CORDOVA IS SHOT AND INJURED IN THE ARM DURING THE INCIDENT, HOWEVER, IT IS NOT CLEAR WHO FIRED THE SHOT THAT HIT HIM.

The Mongols Motorcycle club is a “one-percenter” motorcycle gang and alleged organized crime syndicate. The club was originally formed in Montebello, California by hispanic Vietnam-war veterans who were said to be refused entry into the Hells Angels due to their ethnicity. The Mongols Motorcycle Club is currently headquartered by their “mother chapter” in Southern California where their main presence is felt, and the club is still in active war with their notorious rivals, the Hells Angels. The club has chapters in fifteen states, as well as international charters in Mexico, Australia, Canada, Russia, Germany, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Indonesia, Switzerland and New Zealand. The Mongols started much like most clubs in the late sixties. A rowdy bunch of misfits, closely bonded by friendship, family, and brotherhood who enjoyed riding motorcycles, partying hard, and had a strong distaste for the views and ideologies of mainstream society. It didn’t stay that way for long. They eventually began pushing guns and narcotics, making a profit from anything they could, all while making their presence known. The Mongols are known for a broad spectrum of crime ranging from petty theft, to arms and narcotics trafficking, prostitution, robbery, and even murder. In the first five years after 1969, the club grew from the backstreets of East Los Angeles to establishing chapters in San Diego, Bakersfield, Long Beach, and also the San Gabriel and San Fernando Valleys (SGV/SFV). The club’s name is a tribute to the Mongol army of the legendary Genghis Khan, and their logo is a representation of Genghis, the founder of the empire, riding a motorcycle. The Mongols colors are black and white. The Mongols M.C. developed an immediate strong hold in the Southern California area. At the time and even now there were really no other 1%er clubs co-existing in these areas. During the early 1970’s the Mongols M.C. launched this new American biker movement into the West Coast area. This was a lifestyle, a culture, and a way of life for the brothers riding around on their chopped Harley Davidson motorcycles on the streets of East Los Angeles showing power and solidarity. The majority of new member were ex Vietnam veterans returning from the recent war. The brothers were accustomed to a strict disciplined, regimented program that was about honor, loyalty, respect, and camaraderie. This made them a force to be reckoned with. The Mongols name derived from the Mongol Empire that was led by Genghis Khan. The Mongols divided and conquered big countries throughout Eastern Europe in the early 1200’s. They were known to be highly disciplined, superbly coordinated and brilliant in tactics. The Mongols were fearless warriors on horseback. Yet small in numbers with a lot of heart they dominated and decimated their enemies; Hence the Mongols name that we now wear proudly on our backs, but the difference now is we ride iron horses. At the end of the day it’s about “Quality not Quantity!” - Lil' Dave (National President) It is our aim to create a realistic and enjoyable outlaw 1%er Motorcycle Club role-play environment, more specifically, a portrayal of the Mongols MC's Compton, East Los Angeles, Hollywood, and San Gabriel Valley Chapters. We strive to uphold our strict image of a primarily Hispanic motorcycle club and live up to the colloquial nickname of "cholos on wheels". Standing true to the stories of real life Mongols members and the club itself, many members here role-play as ex gangbangers from different Sureño sets, although this is not mandatory as Caucasian members are also welcomed, encouraged & accepted. Mongols MC chapters operate semi-independently of each other, so it's important to think about your character's portrayal and demographic when choosing a chapter to interact with. We recommend thinking about the local demographic of the area, the style of roleplay you'd like to be engaged in, and your character's future progression and growth. These things are all important to consider when starting out. You can find Mongols MC chapters in the following locations: DAVIS EAST L.S. VINEWOOD SAN CHIANSKI VALLEY Any questions, concerns, or other queries can be directed to @Psychedelic, or @CULTure. MONGOLS MC and the Mongols logo (R) are trademarks owned by the Mongols Nation Motorcycle Club, and full credit and respect is given to the club. Scenes, depictions, edited photographs and opinions associated with this faction on GTA:World are not necessarily the opinions of the real-life Mongols Nation Motorcycle Club.

This will follow the already started development of Victor "Midget" Cambeiro.

This thread follows the storyline of Floyd Waters, El Forastero MC member.

The story of Sully "Seer" Morgan. Early life: Born down south in Jackson, Mississippi in about 74'. Ol' man Sully "Seer", from a jobless mother and a father under the average wage, seeks to make his name shown in the world. As much as the boy, at that time, was concerned, in love with B.B. King's music back then in the tops, he was dreaming to one thing. Fame in the world of Blues. Hell..- at 14, from the little his father was bringing into the house, he got to see his first vintage bass guitar. He played the hell out of that guitar. Only his neighbours know how much he was stressing them with it. He grew up and joined the college. Ran with a barman part-time, but it wasn't enough. Poor boy Sully has the best idea in the world. "Momma, Imma gonna become rich. See my ass goin' blues". So he did . Every evening, he would grab his bass guitar out onto the town square streets, turning eyes everywhere. A somewhat deep, still a young boy's voice was bringing warm in the people's hearts. And it worked. He started to earn money. More money than his job could ever bring. As far as his life moved on, live and let live. He turns into a man..: Back in 1990, the boy was 20 something years young. He turned into a man now. The fame his bass brought him, wasn't exactly what he wished for. Rumours came to his ears about a club. What wanted to be a brotherhood, embracing the Sully's colour. A world he was totally foreigner to. But with a bit of luck and prayers to the God, the man finds his path riding onto a saddle. The saddle of a 90's Harley Davidson Road King Classic. Everything about that piece was bringing joy in Sully's heart. From the roar of its engine, to the sharpness of its handlebars. After 20 something years, he was feeling free. Nothing was bothering his mind but the road ahead of him. Wasn't long before he hears some nasty news though. One night, on his way back home, his father dropped with a few bullets in his back. All for fifteen bucks. That's how good men fall, no? Years are passing. His bike was getting dusty. He was breaking his bones for a few bucks a day, following his ol' man's path to keep his mother alive. But what you see? His ma' falls sick. She doesn't last too long before the good Lord takes her away from poor Sully. With nothing to stay for and with pain in his heart, once again, the man saddles up, but this time for good. Some money left after his mother's funeral, he had just enough to feed his bike all the way to the West. Destination? Anywhere. Where he got? Santa Barbara, right on the edge of the ocean. It was quite a new world. Different from what he grew up with. But, he was about to meet what was going to be his new family. Knowing that his colour would make it difficult to allow him join brothers on two wheels...- The key to a new life?: It is 2003. Sully is somewhere at 29 now. Mad man on two wheels, spots something he ain't seen, but heard before. Brothers of colour on two wheels. Little he knew that they were his key towards what would be known as Outcast MC. A Diamond Patch black-skinned motorcycle club, designed for those Harley lovers who would not fit in the "normal" MC society. As the years pass on, even though he wasn't fit for the Outlaw life, he was good as raising spirits. He climbs his way up into the club's chairs, riding with his brothers and telling himself "I have a family again!". He brings out a second family. He finds himself a woman and not long after, with the God's and the club's blessing, he makes her his ol' lady. They lived happily in this world for a few years but the luck, wasn't on his side. His woman, meets her faith falling in pain from cancer. She doesn't last too long and rips up the man's heart. Sully, loses one more family and as destroyed as he is, he drops in the sin of alcohol, that even Jesus told him once: "Stop drinking, you dirty bastard!". Years passed once more, and what became now an old man, got back on his feet for the last family he got left. The Outcasts. He's 48 now and with the little time he got left in his life, his path takes him over the border once more. Following his former VP and a bunch of brothers, they're brave enough to throw themselves in the cold world of Los Santos where they seek to create what is to become Outcast Motorcycle Club, the Los Santos charter. Only time can tell what is to become of them. Praise the lord! ((Finally had a good character start which I'm confident to turn into a character thread. I will be portraying his story through the life of Outcast MC. Only the time can tell how long this will last. If the club shuts down without taking his life too, he will find a way to off this thread. Enjoy))

THE STORY OF RYAN "WHEELER" WILDING Brotherhood; It's a funny thing. Reliant on another man to watch your back, sometimes in order to save your life. Though, it's addictive, the feeling of somebody there for you - A shoulder to cry on, someone to rant to, to fight by your side. There's no feeling quite like it. And ever since a young age, Ryan Wilding had experienced the thrill that brotherhood granted. In return? It dug its claws deep into his back and desire soon took over. But we'll get to that. CHILDHOOD You know in the movies when you see the suave house, the rich kids and their spineless, snobby parents that don't have the will to say no to their already spoilt-rotten children? Well, Ryan grew up in that environment. Except it wasn't he who was spoilt, but his siblings. That's not to say he was the proverbial 'Ugly Swan' among his siblings; No it was quite the opposite. Stellar grades, almost perfect, flawless report cards - A real honor-roll student, if there ever was to be one. But you know how it is being the middle-child. Stuck between the growing up of a first-born and the bringing up of the next; The attention isn't ever really on yourself. No spotlight, no appreciation, no gratitude. Yet the young lad still grafted. He'd stay up, assiduously studying; To improve with the mindset that, if and only if, he strives hard enough, worked long enough then perhaps one day the attention that he ever so desired would be bestowed upon him. It never was. ADOLESCENCE Now, this is where things began to get interesting for a youthful, teenage Wilding. Remember that perfect, flawless set of grades the young lad once had? Kiss them goodbye. Growing up in Scotland; There's nothing much to do as a teenager. Council estates filled with 'Youth Clubs', designed to keep the youth of today from being the criminals of tomorrow. What bullshit. Those clubs were the breeding ground for troublemakers; Arts and crafts? Coloring? What fucking young boy's interested in that? Boys fight. They scrap. They let skin meet skin. Drop the crayons, lift the fists. That's how it worked in Glasgow. You earned a reputation, you earned your respect. It didn't go both ways. You can kiss as much ass as you need - It wouldn't change a thing until you did something to prove yourself; And whilst Wilding's upbringing was much more privileged than most, the strenuous, constant, and rigorously tiring desire to be seen as the favorite child simply turned him away from his family. That 'Ugly Swan'? I suppose that's when that term would fit best. The scraps on the fields of Glasgow soon transitioned to those of the school playground. Quarrels that were simply pointless soon transitioned to many serious disputes. What once was a bit of fun grew with age, turning into rivalries. The Double-Edged Blade At the age of Fifteen, Ryan grasped the first make-shift blade. The teenager had always been interested in carpentry; How you can take an idea of something, something useful that could be helpful in everyday life and to materialize that idea? It inspired him. But inspiration can be dangerous. It was dependent on the craftsman's mindset, their mental stability. And for someone who looked at themselves as not good enough in any circumstance? Mental stability was more of a case of instability. Though, the hard work and determination of his earlier years had come second nature to him as he progressed through life; It was the very backbone of his characteristic. Excelling at whatever was on his mind; It really worked both ways - For the good and the bad. Nonetheless, back to Ryan with the blade. This wasn't just your regular kitchen-knife or make=shift shank. No. That'd be disappointing; It'd damage his morale. This was one of the slickest blades you'd lay your eyes on. Serrated edges, crafted by sheet-metal that he'd scrounged for at the local scrap-yards and trash-stations; Conjured within the four walls of the school's metal-work shop. Obviously, this wasn't a weapon's shop by any means, and so the proper equipment was lacking for the most point. Hours spent with numerous pieces of equipment: Blow-torches running on practically empty gas canisters, files that'd break after half an hour or so of constant filing but the belt grinder that the school had for woodwork? That was a plus. The whole process took him about a month. Making and tossing several mid-tier finished products; Determined to have the perfect piece. Soon that piece came. You're probably wondering, what would a privileged lad like Ryan want with a dangerous weapon like that, right? I mean, the world was his oyster and he hadn't even realized it! With the ability to surpass the hardest of tests threw in his way, a mathematical genius and such skills in literacy that'd make Shakespeare blush; But his desires were not found in the textbooks or the knowledge that the educational system offered. Pete Thompson - An old friend of Ryan's, a friendship turned sour over the one thing that young boys thrived over as they grew through the adolescent stages of their life; Girls. It was simple really, Wilding desired this one lass. Let's call her Becky. Becky was the prettiest, finest girl in the school in that lad's eyes. Sure enough, the man was no Romeo, but the feelings were mutual between the duo. Butterflies, blushing, and more; The innocent-mindset of experimentation being shared between them as they grew closer over the year until turning Sixteen. Their relationship was well-established within their School. It was a case of the other's 'Wanting a relationship just like theirs'. That was until Pete had transitioned from Edinburgh's All Boys School. Imagine that? A school filled with testosterone and no women? Torture. Pete immediately set his eyes on Becky; And Becky fell for the bad-boy nature that Thompson had portrayed - That Summer, just before everyone left School to go to college, to get their apprenticeships or part-time jobs; That was the first time Ryan put that double-edged blade to use. It's like yesterday; Behind the bleacher's on the School's Football Pitch. And word traveled quickly; Especially to a young man like Wilding. A close nit group of friends like his own? The grapevine was endless, and the word was, Pete was fixin' to get it on with Ryan's bird. Four-Thirty P.M. An hour and fifteen minutes after the bell rang to signal the end of a School Year - The final year for Ryan's group, Becky and Pete included. What way to celebrate other than gettin' it on behind the bleachers? That must've been what they'd thought. But there Ryan waited. Back turned, a sigh escaping his mouth as he shook his head in disappointment at the approaching footsteps. Sure as shit, Becky was more than shocked to see the lad waiting there. A black hoodie on, right hand in the front pocket; Grasping the handle of the make-shift, stellar blade. Turning at once, there was a blankness in his eyes. A darkness, even, as if an endless portal to the void of his first heartbreak was in his gaze. A single tear rolled down the man's hairless cheek as that gaze soon turned to one of pure anger. Running towards Pete, who had already made it clear that it didn't have to end in any fighting. Swearing they could talk it out, man-to-man. Speaking to the extent of anybody that valued their life and well-being. But d'you know how hard it is to talk with a throat-full of steel? I'd tell you to ask Pete, but.. He's not exactly around anymore. On The Run That blood-curdling scream that escaped his former girlfriend's lips was one he'd never forget. The look in her eyes that once held amorous intent; Love and lust for one another, fading away and being replaced by one of fear of the monstrosity that the boy she once loved had become. Yet she was just as much to blame as the man that lay on the floor, gurgling and gagging, choking to death on the blood that spurted from the perfect gauging hole in his throat. And at that moment, Ryan set off running. Sprinting. Hastily bolting it out of the school gates; The School that held memories that'd all be a faint memory in the shadow of the crime scene, for what would be the final time. It wasn't long before loud sirens, blue flashing lights could be seen. Though Ryan was smart, you know this. Around fifteen minutes away from the school was a discreet little forest. It'd be where the boy often hung out when feeling low, when in need of some alone time. It was there that a backpack was stashed. Fresh clothes to replace his now blood-soaked set. Stripping off and changing rapidly, Ryan grabbed his lighter - That's right, you wouldn't have guessed, but the rebellious boy? He smoked. Sheesh. Dousing his clothing with a small bottle of petrol that he'd smartly siphoned from his Father's 527 Horse Power Bentley Continental R; Dousing his clothing in the flammable fluids before setting them alight. Looking down at the bloodied blade that he'd worked on tirelessly; Ryan nodded before stepping forward with his right leg, throwing it as far as he could into the wooded environment before grabbing the backpack; Filled with snacks, drinks, and enough cash to skip town if needed. He had it all planned out, right? So you'd think. As the boy began to set off sprinting once more, he'd stupidly went back the same way that he'd come from. And just like that; The boy was behind bars for the foreseeable future, tarnishing his family's name. That first visit, his Mother didn't come. She couldn't bear to look the young man in his eyes; Though his Father did. And that hour? It was spent degrading Ryan. Telling him he'd never amount to anything in his life. That he was what he'd always feared - A disappointment to his family. Ryan needed to set the record straight; He was no disappointment - So he decided to do whatever it took to prove that, at any means necessary. With him only being Sixteen, he'd been placed in a juvenile prison; And with three months under his belt without any acting up, a meeting had been called. Wilding was completely in the dark with this one; Clueless to as what was about to go down. As he entered a room, shackled to a table, a Staff Sergeant would move into the room. Taking a seat in front of the Scottish native, his eyes, worn from the sights of war and all its contents would trace over Ryan. He was a fairly lanky lad but had made up for it in height. It was on that day that God had seemingly decided to give the dark-haired teenager a chance; You either continue on this path and find yourself rotting in a prison cell or - A chance to enroll in the army and to prove to your family and friends that he wasn't what he'd been labeled as, a disappointment. That was a chance that he'd take. Bang-Bang Nine Years. That's how long Wilding would do in the Military. At first, it was horrible. Being away from home, a home that, whilst he knew he wasn't welcome back to, nor did he ever truly feel welcome too in the first place; Was a place which he still saw as home. It was clear to see he didn't have the pride in himself, though held the determination to want to change and be seen as somebody to not be reckoned with - Early on, his Drill Sergeant spotted how easy it was to light a fire under his ass by making mock-full comments. Especially those around the subject of disappointment. As soon as the young adult was compared to that of someone not worthy to be on God's Green Earth? All the records were overtaken. At the range, Ryan spent hours upon hours perfecting his aim. Three shots to the body - One shot to the head. Each target. Repeatedly. Until soon enough, every fresh target began to look like the one used prior. Eagle-eyed and strong-willed, they'd make a man out of him. And that they did. In the army, the sense of brotherhood was truly there. You were side by side with your brother's in arms, shipped out by air or sea on operations that you weren't entirely sure you'd ever come out alive; It's in those moments that you bond with them. You get to know each and every one of them - Some more than others. But in the end, you realize that, whether or not you truly like them, you're stuck with them. They're with you for the long haul, and that's a given. For a lad who once felt like he didn't belong, the Military gave him a purpose. It gave him a reason to breathe, to fight on, and to battle his mental tolls, all the while his brothers in arms battled them alongside him. Ryan Wilding had fought as infantry in both the Sierra Leone Civil War as well as Afghanistan, earning several medals including the Operational Service Medal for his time served in Afghanistan. Leaving his service in 2009 due to physical concerns from the Medical Militant Professionals, Ryan had to slowly adjust to normal life again. Though, the brotherhood and the feeling of belonging remained in the Army - A place he could no longer be. And while he returned home seemingly a changed man to the civilians of Britain, he returned without a home to go to; Shunned and disowned by his family. It was there yet another choice was given to Ryan; Stay and suffer from the constant loneliness, working a dead-end Nine-to-Five Job until it all got too much, or to do something meaningful with his life. And so he did. Packing up his bags with all the belongings that mattered, amongst them, the medals earned through service; Family photos from a simpler time and the cash earned thus far in life; Purchasing a one-way ticket to Los Santos in hopes of change. Would he find it? Who knew. I guess we'll find out together.

WHO ARE THE SONS? Based out of Colorado, and controlling much of the Southwest and Rocky Mountain States, the Sons of Silence Motorcycle Club boasts 30 chapters across the United States and five splinter clubs in Germany. Altogether, the SOSMC is between 200 - 500 members strong. Founded in the town of Niwot, Colorado in the 1960s, the Sons of Silence have been engaged in a long turf war with rivals like the Outlaws since the beginning. In 1999, a huge multi-state raid of Sons of Silence clubhouses in Kansas, Colorado and Arizona uncovered enough weapons to run a small army. Among the confiscated ordnance were dozens of machine guns, pipe bombs and even hand grenades. The club knows how to intimidate. The Sons of Silence's logo – an American eagle superimposed over the letter "A" – is similar to, and taken from, the Anheuser-Busch logo. Their motto, incorrectly translated into Latin in their colors, is "Until Death Separates Us". The Sons of Silence are designated an outlaw motorcycle gang by the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) and U.S. Department of Justice (DOJ), and at one point were considered one of the "big five" motorcycle gangs along with the Bandidos, Hells Angels, Outlaws and Pagans. Members have been implicated in numerous criminal activities, including murder, assault, drug trafficking, intimidation, extortion, prostitution operations, money laundering, weapons trafficking, and motorcycle and motorcycle parts theft. QUICK FACTS: Established: 1966 in Niwot, Colorado, United States Years active: 1966-present Territory: Midwestern and Southern United States, and Southern Germany Ethnicity: White Membership: 250-500 full-patch members Criminal activities: Drug trafficking, arms dealing, extortion, prostitution and money laundering Allies: Mongols MC, Highwaymen, Pagans MC, Warlocks and the Aryan Brotherhood Rivals: Bandidos, Hells Angels MC and Outlaws THE SONS IN SAN ANDREAS In September of 2020, a call was put out by the Sons of Silence mother-charter for those interested in aiding the club with starting a new charter on the West Coast, namely - San Andreas. At this time, San Andreas was like a modern day gold rush for the Outlaw Biker culture. New clubs came and went almost daily. Drugs, weapons, women - it poured out of San Andreas like a bustling river. The Sons of Silence wanted their fair share. After three longs weeks - 10 SONS from around the United States went Nomad and hit the open road, heading for San Andreas. Upon arriving, the Sons of Silence members set up shop in Los Santos and began looking for a place to call home. In October of 2020, the Sons of Silence finally formed their first West Coast charter - settling on the Blaine County area as their home. The founding members of the Sons of Silence: Blaine County charter were: President Arlow "Silky" Randall Vice President Jeffrey "Jeff" Halprin Secretary Roland "Moose" Brigman Treasurer Jasper "Birch" Burchell Sergeant at Arms Luka "Lucky" Holzer Brody "Lake" Lochlan Bjorn "Tyr" Eriksson Bruce "Muttons" Webber Josiah "JJ" Hexel Ray "Crow" Crawford With the new charter set up, the Sons of Silence began making connections with other clubs in the state. Their first goal; secure a pipeline for the distribution of weapons in the state of San Andreas. MEMBERSHIP & OOC INFO Joining the Sons of Silence is done entirely in-character. It doesn't matter if you're family OOCly - everyone who wants to join the Sons of Silence will have to start from the bottom. Not only is this fair to everyone involved - but it also produces a more cohesive story line for the faction and will be more rewarding for both the faction and you in the long run. Find us ICly and give us a reason to want to interact with you. Be forewarned, you'll probably be told to piss-off quite a few times - but just keep at it and show us what you got. If you're interested in joining the Sons of Silence, there are a few things to note: All characters must be White (icly) While female characters are unable to be "patched" members, we encourage female characters to still hang around and RP with the club. Our aim is to provide equal opportunities for RP to everyone involved, regardless of your character's sex. The Sons of Silence is less about running around, doing drugs and shooting our rivals - and more about the story and realistically portraying a brotherhood. Shootouts, drug/gun deals and so on will obviously happen as the story of the club progresses. However, it's not our main focus. We care about quality over quantity. We'd rather have a core group of 6 - 8 members that are reliable and have high-quality roleplay standards, than 20 members that are "meh". It's this reason that recruitment is done entirely IC, and that the hang around -> prospect > patched phase can easily take up to two months, depending on your roleplay quality. Before joining, you should do research on both the Outlaw Motorcycle Club scene, and the Sons of Silence. Below, we've gathered a bunch of helpful videos for those interested. Discord is a key factor when it comes to communication. We use Discord to stay up to date with eachother. It helps us connect and ensures our in-game activity remains up to GTA:W standards. If you are interested in joining the Sons of Silence, it's suggested (but not mandatory) that you join our Discord server. It helps us see your interest and determination in joining the faction from an OOC perspective. Discord: https://discord.gg/uMwpkc4sU8 It should also be noted that once you become a Prospect, faction leadership reserves the right to CK your character. All Prospects+ are required to file a CK agreement on our Discord server. For any questions or concerns, feel free to PM @Fergie on the forums. RESEARCH Below are a bunch of videos and links that we've compiled to aid both current and prospective members in their understanding of not only the Sons of Silence, but the Outlaw MC culture as a whole. LINKS: The Sons of Silence: Everything You Need To Know Sons Of Silence MC (Motorcycle Club) - One Percenter Bikers

This will follow the life & development of Robert Merrill A.K.A Buddha.