Aydın Behram
Established
Roleplay posts: 10
Age: 34
Player's online availability : When I remember to post here.
Registered: Aug 7, 2017 9:42:44 GMT -8
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Post by Aydın Behram on Sept 18, 2017 17:41:55 GMT -8
Aydın regains his bearings as he witnesses the girl flee up the stairs. “Quickly, Hamit!" he shouts "Follow her!” The beast obeys his order, dashing up the staircase to chase after the young charlatan. Aydın, realizing that the scuffle had caught the attention of many of the patrons, attempts to explain the scenario. “Somebody call the guards! That wicked girl has cursed me and is trying to escape the law!”
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Caliban Corvus
New
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: 36
Physical Description: ****************
Standing almost six feet in height, this former adventurer still keeps himself almost fighting trim. Once, he had a head full of hair and a neatly trimmed beard, both points of pride from his corner of the world; for the last six years, he's since remained clean shaven, his hair shorn off completely.
A numer of scars marr his hands, forearms and face now, his voice a gruff rasp from an old injury at his throat mostly healed by magic. He always seems to keep a scarf about his neck or a neckcloth to hide it, leaving speculation around the guildhall quite rampant as to the nature of the injuries.
He moves with resltess energy, his eyes always flicking about, wary, cautious and with a slight hitch in his step.
Clothes and Equipment: ****************
He favors utility over fashion, rough wools for the chill autumn and winter, usually a vest of some sort over a tunic with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Sturdy boots that have long since formed to his feet. The only thing that stands out is the scarf about his neck, a tattered piece of crimson cloth that he prizes above all else.
The last time someone took it, he broke someone's nose and shattered a glass tankard on someone's face in a fit of rage.
Registered: Sept 9, 2017 12:42:31 GMT -8
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Post by Caliban Corvus on Sept 19, 2017 6:05:12 GMT -8
Guild business. It's what he kept telling himself it was. Just guild business.
His usual guild business tended towards grabbing supplies; food, cloth, new munitions and weapons, a couple of pieces of armor, maybe even livestock or some barrels of hops. He knew in his gut, though, this wasn't a supply run. The clues had been plenty clear.
Chiefly the fact that he didn't have a bloody list.
Still, they knew he was out of the game. The adventuring business. That wasn't his life anymore. Maybe they just needed someone to go forth and clean some inn's mugs or give some advice on brewing.
Sure. And I'm the Empress of Isra.
He ducked in through the doorway, and made his way towards the bar. First, to sample the wares. And not at all to ease his nerves.
"Cider, if you've got it. Rum if you don't," he said, his voice steadier than the nerves rattling in the back of his mind. He at least looked the part of hard-bitten adventurer, though he was lacking any evidence of a weapon on his person and his armor consisted of a thick coat. But the air was unmistakeable; he was dangerous.
Yet here you are, rattled as a maiden on her wedding night. You've killed bloody demons, for heavens sake.
The drink was served and he took a drink. It burned. A good rum it was, then. He turned his head slightly, feeling the pair of eye s gazing on him from the corner booth. Pale hair. Woman. Something familiar. Very familiar. But he couldn't quite tell what it was about the dame that tickled his memory so.
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Roxanne Fletcher
Main Character
Roleplay posts: 816
Age: 22
Physical Description: Roxanne is tall with white hair and a narrow, athletic build. She has a pleasant face and only a couple of scars.
Clothes and Equipment: Heavy armor, Elven bow (stolen), and a longsword.
Player's online availability : Early mornings and late evenings
Registered: Aug 2, 2015 8:58:10 GMT -8
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Post by Roxanne Fletcher on Sept 19, 2017 6:59:56 GMT -8
Roxanne glanced over at the man, wondering if he was the one she was looking for. Could it really be him? Was he the one she was looking for, or was it someone else? The man's eyes looked sharp, and he clearly had been around and seen quite a few things. Still, he looked younger than she'd expected. Perhaps the man just had a youthful face, though. Still...something about the way he held himself told her everything that she needed to know. Taking a gulp of her drink, she got up and headed over to sit down at his table. Glancing around to make sure nobody was looking, she smiled nervously and spoke quietly to him.
"I've heard stories of a man who can find anything and anyone. Someone who can be discreet in his inquiries, but always gets the job done. Would you happen to know anything about that?"
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Caliban Corvus
New
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: 36
Physical Description: ****************
Standing almost six feet in height, this former adventurer still keeps himself almost fighting trim. Once, he had a head full of hair and a neatly trimmed beard, both points of pride from his corner of the world; for the last six years, he's since remained clean shaven, his hair shorn off completely.
A numer of scars marr his hands, forearms and face now, his voice a gruff rasp from an old injury at his throat mostly healed by magic. He always seems to keep a scarf about his neck or a neckcloth to hide it, leaving speculation around the guildhall quite rampant as to the nature of the injuries.
He moves with resltess energy, his eyes always flicking about, wary, cautious and with a slight hitch in his step.
Clothes and Equipment: ****************
He favors utility over fashion, rough wools for the chill autumn and winter, usually a vest of some sort over a tunic with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Sturdy boots that have long since formed to his feet. The only thing that stands out is the scarf about his neck, a tattered piece of crimson cloth that he prizes above all else.
The last time someone took it, he broke someone's nose and shattered a glass tankard on someone's face in a fit of rage.
Registered: Sept 9, 2017 12:42:31 GMT -8
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Post by Caliban Corvus on Sept 20, 2017 7:13:21 GMT -8
He adjusted the old scarf about his neck, and froze when the woman approached. He was looking at the face of a dead woman and the scarf around his neck felt more like a noose. He swallowed, hard, suddenly feeling too hot, a chill racing down his spine.
But the features were wrong. The nose a little narrower, the hair not the right shade of blonde, a body that was more fit and less curved. He downed the glass of rum, his voice steadier than he felt by some leagues.
"Fellow you're looking for died some time ago. Can point you to some young fellows what can get the job done. I'm out of that business," he replied coldly, feeling his gut wrench. Maybe if he didn't find out her name, maybe if she wasn't who he thought she was, he could delude his conscience into some degree of lassitude for the rest of his days.
Fat chance. Fate has a wicked sense of humour.
He put the glass down and looked away from the woman. But Roxanne would know this was the man she was looking for. It was one of her mother's scarves he wore after all. Old, tattered, faded and torn, but hers all the same.
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Roxanne Fletcher
Main Character
Roleplay posts: 816
Age: 22
Physical Description: Roxanne is tall with white hair and a narrow, athletic build. She has a pleasant face and only a couple of scars.
Clothes and Equipment: Heavy armor, Elven bow (stolen), and a longsword.
Player's online availability : Early mornings and late evenings
Registered: Aug 2, 2015 8:58:10 GMT -8
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Post by Roxanne Fletcher on Sept 20, 2017 12:50:09 GMT -8
Roxanne frowned, and sat down at the table despite the man's dismissive attitude. Something about his protests didn't add up, and there was something that scarf that seemed familiar. She wasn't sure where to place it, but she was certain that she'd seen it before...or at least, something like it. Still, she was here for the man, not the scarf.
"I don't know about that. I'm looking for someone with experience, someone who knows what they're doing. More importantly, I need someone who can keep their mouths shut. I've heard tales about you, you know. The manhunter who gets the job done and vanishes into the darkness as soon as he's finished. I have the gold to pay, plenty of it. Please, I need your help."
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Caliban Corvus
New
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: 36
Physical Description: ****************
Standing almost six feet in height, this former adventurer still keeps himself almost fighting trim. Once, he had a head full of hair and a neatly trimmed beard, both points of pride from his corner of the world; for the last six years, he's since remained clean shaven, his hair shorn off completely.
A numer of scars marr his hands, forearms and face now, his voice a gruff rasp from an old injury at his throat mostly healed by magic. He always seems to keep a scarf about his neck or a neckcloth to hide it, leaving speculation around the guildhall quite rampant as to the nature of the injuries.
He moves with resltess energy, his eyes always flicking about, wary, cautious and with a slight hitch in his step.
Clothes and Equipment: ****************
He favors utility over fashion, rough wools for the chill autumn and winter, usually a vest of some sort over a tunic with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Sturdy boots that have long since formed to his feet. The only thing that stands out is the scarf about his neck, a tattered piece of crimson cloth that he prizes above all else.
The last time someone took it, he broke someone's nose and shattered a glass tankard on someone's face in a fit of rage.
Registered: Sept 9, 2017 12:42:31 GMT -8
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Post by Caliban Corvus on Sept 22, 2017 5:47:25 GMT -8
Those last words were the knife that slipped passed his guard and cut him deep. Say what you will about any monster that roams this world or the next, but there is nothing more deadly than a dame asking for help.
"Well, if you want answers, can't exactly do it with my mouth shut now can I?" he replied dryly and after a moment, he leaned over slightly. "It's a joke. I know you want someone who can keep quiet. Discretion's key, Blondie. Especially in your line of work. I'll answer some questions for you, but I'm out of the game."
That much help was like pulling teeth. No. No, he was not going out there again. He was done with that life.
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Roxanne Fletcher
Main Character
Roleplay posts: 816
Age: 22
Physical Description: Roxanne is tall with white hair and a narrow, athletic build. She has a pleasant face and only a couple of scars.
Clothes and Equipment: Heavy armor, Elven bow (stolen), and a longsword.
Player's online availability : Early mornings and late evenings
Registered: Aug 2, 2015 8:58:10 GMT -8
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Post by Roxanne Fletcher on Sept 22, 2017 10:05:50 GMT -8
Roxanne's knuckles whitened as her grip clenched tight on her mug. Why did everyone feel the need to give her nicknames? It was always the same thing, too. Blondie, usually. Sometimes they called her Lollipop, if she happened to be sucking on one at the time. She'd always hated being called Blondie.
"It's Roxanne. Not Blondie. And I think you can help me a lot more than that, but we can start with questions. For starters...what name do you go by nowadays? I've heard quite a few, and I don't know that any of them are actually correct."
She squinted at the scarf, wondering exactly why it seemed so familiar. Hadn't her mother had a scarf like that? That must be it, but it had to be a coincidence. Surely the pattern wasn't as rare as all that...but she'd never seen anyone else with a scarf like that before.
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Caliban Corvus
New
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: 36
Physical Description: ****************
Standing almost six feet in height, this former adventurer still keeps himself almost fighting trim. Once, he had a head full of hair and a neatly trimmed beard, both points of pride from his corner of the world; for the last six years, he's since remained clean shaven, his hair shorn off completely.
A numer of scars marr his hands, forearms and face now, his voice a gruff rasp from an old injury at his throat mostly healed by magic. He always seems to keep a scarf about his neck or a neckcloth to hide it, leaving speculation around the guildhall quite rampant as to the nature of the injuries.
He moves with resltess energy, his eyes always flicking about, wary, cautious and with a slight hitch in his step.
Clothes and Equipment: ****************
He favors utility over fashion, rough wools for the chill autumn and winter, usually a vest of some sort over a tunic with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Sturdy boots that have long since formed to his feet. The only thing that stands out is the scarf about his neck, a tattered piece of crimson cloth that he prizes above all else.
The last time someone took it, he broke someone's nose and shattered a glass tankard on someone's face in a fit of rage.
Registered: Sept 9, 2017 12:42:31 GMT -8
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Post by Caliban Corvus on Sept 25, 2017 6:24:07 GMT -8
He sipped more of his drink, forestalling the inevitable as much as he could.
"Let's just go with the least insulting and call me Caliban, aye?" he replied to her before running a hand across his face with a heavy sigh before very slowly turning towards her in his seat. Both calloused hands were folded over each other on the table; it was easier to keep them there so he wouldn't have the urge to strangle himself with his own scarf for being an idiot.
"So what is it you need from me...Roxanne?" The words were reeled out of him like a struggling fish, the awkward struggle of his desire to help and to rid himself of her flopping around quietly on the table between them in the silence that stretched.
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Roxanne Fletcher
Main Character
Roleplay posts: 816
Age: 22
Physical Description: Roxanne is tall with white hair and a narrow, athletic build. She has a pleasant face and only a couple of scars.
Clothes and Equipment: Heavy armor, Elven bow (stolen), and a longsword.
Player's online availability : Early mornings and late evenings
Registered: Aug 2, 2015 8:58:10 GMT -8
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Post by Roxanne Fletcher on Sept 25, 2017 7:39:45 GMT -8
"Caliban? Alright..."
Roxanne hesitated, reluctant to tell her tale. It got quite personal, after all, and this Caliban was still a stranger...still, he was the best there was. She bit her lip hesitantly, an oddly cute habit that stood out from her otherwise businesslike manner. It would also be very reminiscent of her mother, and would be apparent to anyone who had spent any significant amount of time around Ingrid.
"Well...my, uh, friend has gone missing. His name is Ezra, he's a lollipop seller from Isra. I don't know where he's gone, his lollipop stand is still there but there's nobody running it. He wouldn't just leave like that, I know he wouldn't...but nobody's seen him for a week. I've asked around, nobody knows what happened, but they all agreed that nothing seemed strange before he just...disappeared. I...I'd heard that you can find anything and anyone, Caliban. Please, will you help me find Ezra?"
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Penny Royalty
Established
On the Rise
Roleplay posts: 33
Age: 19
Physical Description: A young girl with green hair tied back in two ponytails. Amber Eyes.
Get Lucky's description: A pair of fuzzy dice with an eye on each 1 face. Each die has a pair of wings on the 4 face: one angelic, one demonic. The dice are connected by an umbilical chord through the center dot of each 3 face.
Clothes and Equipment: A small red hat with a black bow, Red corset, white blouse, Red skirt with white frills, Striped black leggings with white bell bottoms attached form the shin down, black shoes.
Registered: May 4, 2016 19:05:08 GMT -8
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Post by Penny Royalty on Sept 27, 2017 17:48:27 GMT -8
Aydın regains his bearings as he witnesses the girl flee up the stairs. “Quickly, Hamit!" he shouts "Follow her!” The beast obeys his order, dashing up the staircase to chase after the young charlatan. Aydın, realizing that the scuffle had caught the attention of many of the patrons, attempts to explain the scenario. “Somebody call the guards! That wicked girl has cursed me and is trying to escape the law!” Penny tries to open a door to one of the rooms. Since her arms don't work she had to improvise with the rest of her body, rubbing up against the doorknob. TkqufUpP1-6-jiggle-jiggle- The first door wasn't unlocked, she had a little time to go to the next door and tried to open THAT one. 1-6-jiggle-jiggle- Unlucky! She manages to turn that doorknob further than the last but she didn't have enough time. Penny thought her luck was coming back, but the amount she stole from Aydın Behram simply wasn't enough. She'd gotten cocky and now she had to sleep in the bed she'd made. IF ONLY SHE COULD USE HER HANDS! She falls to her knees, realizing she's not going to get away. 1-6·1-6
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Brighton Anderson
New
Roleplay posts: 6
Physical Description: Brighton has a bizarre height for a human. Being at 10 feet / 300 inches in height and 209 pounds in weight. His body looks like it’s stretching, having long legs, long body and big feet. But is little around the belly when he is sitting. His hair is natural vivacious red and a beard that reaches to his chest. His eye color is brown.
Clothes and Equipment: He wears big and baggy grey pants, with big long black boots, white and loose shirt and a big red captain jacket. His back is most of the time hunched over as he's trying to take the weight of his leg.
Player's online availability : Evenings, +0 GMT zone
Registered: Oct 29, 2017 7:02:16 GMT -8
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Post by Brighton Anderson on Oct 31, 2017 9:25:50 GMT -8
It's time for new beginnings in a old sea town. A new name, a new crew and it was all going to start here in this town, Port Silverion. A location that he set on posters all over the place. However, it did take away all his money, as it was expensive to do, which was not surprising. Though it was most certainly going to be worth it in the end, once he got a crew together and starts robbing again. He would get all his money worth. This man was a man named Brighton Anderson, a giant of a men, standing 10 feet tall over everyone he met. His red, bright and long beard reaching to his stomach. His giant axe glancing against the stone roads from him using it as a cane. The guards at the port watched in awe at the size of a mere human getting out of his ship alone. The townspeople whispered and stared at the monstrosity before them as it walked down town. Stopping at a local in called "Stark's Inn." He was going to stay here for a while to wait for people to join his crew, to come for an exclusive interview with him. He was most certainly excited meeting his new crew members, if they weren't disappointing that is. As he ignores all the folk who were in the far and goes into one of the corners of the inn, taking a seat onto the floor, crossed legged. His face of excitement struggling to keep it straight for a reason only known to him. He now waited, he was ready to get some good folk. Who was willing to join him?
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Henry "Drake" Drake
New
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: 17
Physical Description: His skin tanned after years at sea, Henry has the looks of a nimble man light on his feat. Crows feet due to his time exposed to the sun nestle on the edges of his pale jade green eyes.
His auburn hair long enough for a fringe in front, and to cover part of his ears on the side.
His teeth, all still present, but with a shade of green to them due to the herb he's grown used to chewing on called Qat.
Together with calloused hands, cuts and scars sprinkled all over his body, he looks like a mixture of a child too young to be at sea, and a sailor who has seen far too much.
Clothes and Equipment: On a normal day you'd see him fashioned with loose garments mixing a short-neck shirt with flowing leather vests. Thin linen pants, rolled up to his knees, strapped by a thick leather belt with a heavy metal buckle. Strong enough to hold his rapier and daggers.
At sea he wears a tricorne hat to cover from the sun and rain, as well as a length of rope on his lower back for emergencies.
Besides his weapons, he has three small pouches. Coin, Qat, and a third one he rarely uses. And a thin looking glass, foggy and rusted.
Registered: Oct 30, 2017 5:18:07 GMT -8
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Post by Henry "Drake" Drake on Nov 1, 2017 8:10:16 GMT -8
A contrast between utter boredom and looking Death itself in the eyes. That is how Henry Drake would describe his life, if anyone dared to ask. He enjoyed the pause, the wait, the time between depressing contemplation and the unexpected turn of events soon after. Always looking for the next break, when the world around him would fall into chaos. But this time, it had been far too long.
After a couple of day's staying at this Inn, the stench of ale and piss drying and filtering into the wooden floorboards had almost faded. The common room bustled with laughter, rejoicing, and here and there some sobbing. "There must be no other place to drink in this port" - Henry considered for a second as he moved towards an empty seat by the wall. A perfect place for someone who wished to have a clear eyes on the door, but none on their backs.
Out from under his vest he pulled two rolled up parchments. One, an old crumbling piece, covered in jottings and marks as obscure as they had been the first time Henry lied his eyes on it. With a conceding sigh he tucked it away again. The second, was a more recent piece, some sort of notice.
"Redbeard." - Henry thought - "What a cliche name". He had to admit, it definitely peaked his interest, spreading notices around the port, asking for an interview. It had to be one of bravest, or most stupid, ways of trying to get people to join you. It could be some sort of trap, a new strategy of the Isranian Guard to capture free people, so Henry kept his eyes peeled and his ears on the ground.
The Hunger had been tearing at him all morning, and he had to ration the remaining Qat in his pouch. At least until he had a chance to hit the market, maybe after checking this bearded pirate out. Until then he just had to eat, or he would die. For starters, an order of dry, cold leftover roasted bird of some kind, with three loafs of bread and spiced tea to wash it down. "This guy better show up soon" - Henry looked at his plate, jingle his pouch of coin, and hoped he had enough to last him a few more days.
In through the door came one of the most breathtaking sights in Henry's life. A literal giant with a long red beard, and a axe large enough to carve a house in two. "Talk about being on the nose" - Henry chuckled at the thought. This had to be the guy from the notice, and by the looks of it, it didn't feel like a trap. He felt sorry for the guy, someone looking as threatening as him, looking to start trouble with the law, he was bound to get arrested.
Looking at this man sitting on the floor, still taller than many near him, Henry was beginning to doubt the guards would be able to do anything if they did try.
A smirk came across his face - "Now this is an unexpected turn of events."
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Windfeld 'Sea-shrieker'
Established
Roleplay posts: 43
Age: 48
Physical Description: Standing about 1.75 m tall, Windfeld is neither tall nor very muscular, though rugged and whether bitten are words that describe him well. Windfeld has a large, brown full beard and two eyes of different color each. His right is brown and the left is light blue and mostly kept behind a black patch.
Clothes and Equipment: Windfeld wears black boots, a large worn blue coat with a hat to match. Besides various exotic jewelry on his fingers, he wears a distinct necklace with a four leaf clover pendant with black gemstones and an carved ivory skull in the middle.
Registered: Nov 1, 2017 10:14:38 GMT -8
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Post by Windfeld 'Sea-shrieker' on Nov 1, 2017 10:43:21 GMT -8
"There's not much to mistake here. Brighton Anderson. Or do you prefer being called 'Red Beard'?" Windfeld asked with a smirk as he dropped one of the rolled up posters on the table in front of the gigantic human being. Whether it was one or the other name, Windfeld didn't care. He had waited for such an opportunity and immediately walked over to the pirate. "I am known as 'Windfeld Sea-shrieker' to those that sail the nights without flags..." he said with a croaky voice as he rolled out the poster revealing a dead squirrel inside it. "I found this!" he said almost enthusiastic and grinned revealing his brown stained teeth.
"At the age of 48 harsh winters I am no longer young, and I'm sure you're probably looking for youngsters willing to go into their deaths for you. But I'd wager you'd need one to march them there..." he said and paused before continuing as his grin widened. "... And one to whip them back up and march on after that!" he said and grabbed his amulet chanting a few dark words as the obviously dead squirrel started squeaking and moving again before he plunged his dagger through its body effectively nailing it to the table, the squirrel relentlessly trying to move though still pinned. "This one won't be much of an asset on deck, but I think you can imagine what this kind of tenacity will do to the enemy's will to fight if it was a full grown pirate!". he said and laughed with his salty voice. "And I've got a few other tricks up my sleeve too... So can I call you 'captain'?" he said and politely tipped his hat with a wry smile.
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Brighton Anderson
New
Roleplay posts: 6
Physical Description: Brighton has a bizarre height for a human. Being at 10 feet / 300 inches in height and 209 pounds in weight. His body looks like it’s stretching, having long legs, long body and big feet. But is little around the belly when he is sitting. His hair is natural vivacious red and a beard that reaches to his chest. His eye color is brown.
Clothes and Equipment: He wears big and baggy grey pants, with big long black boots, white and loose shirt and a big red captain jacket. His back is most of the time hunched over as he's trying to take the weight of his leg.
Player's online availability : Evenings, +0 GMT zone
Registered: Oct 29, 2017 7:02:16 GMT -8
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Post by Brighton Anderson on Nov 1, 2017 12:13:11 GMT -8
A contrast between utter boredom and looking Death itself in the eyes. That is how Henry Drake would describe his life, if anyone dared to ask. He enjoyed the pause, the wait, the time between depressing contemplation and the unexpected turn of events soon after. Always looking for the next break, when the world around him would fall into chaos. But this time, it had been far too long. After a couple of day's staying at this Inn, the stench of ale and piss drying and filtering into the wooden floorboards had almost faded. The common room bustled with laughter, rejoicing, and here and there some sobbing. " There must be no other place to drink in this port" - Henry considered for a second as he moved towards an empty seat by the wall. A perfect place for someone who wished to have a clear eyes on the door, but none on their backs. Out from under his vest he pulled two rolled up parchments. One, an old crumbling piece, covered in jottings and marks as obscure as they had been the first time Henry lied his eyes on it. With a conceding sigh he tucked it away again. The second, was a more recent piece, some sort of notice. "Redbeard." - Henry thought - " What a cliche name". He had to admit, it definitely peaked his interest, spreading notices around the port, asking for an interview. It had to be one of bravest, or most stupid, ways of trying to get people to join you. It could be some sort of trap, a new strategy of the Isranian Guard to capture free people, so Henry kept his eyes peeled and his ears on the ground. The Hunger had been tearing at him all morning, and he had to ration the remaining Qat in his pouch. At least until he had a chance to hit the market, maybe after checking this bearded pirate out. Until then he just had to eat, or he would die. For starters, an order of dry, cold leftover roasted bird of some kind, with three loafs of bread and spiced tea to wash it down. " This guy better show up soon" - Henry looked at his plate, jingle his pouch of coin, and hoped he had enough to last him a few more days. In through the door came one of the most breathtaking sights in Henry's life. A literal giant with a long red beard, and a axe large enough to carve a house in two. " Talk about being on the nose" - Henry chuckled at the thought. This had to be the guy from the notice, and by the looks of it, it didn't feel like a trap. He felt sorry for the guy, someone looking as threatening as him, looking to start trouble with the law, he was bound to get arrested. Looking at this man sitting on the floor, still taller than many near him, Henry was beginning to doubt the guards would be able to do anything if they did try. A smirk came across his face - " Now this is an unexpected turn of events."It was most certainly a sight to behold. The wonders of the human body and what it can become and what it shouldn't become. At first glance you see his size, at a second glance you see his tired and old face, like he has never rested well his whole life. But still, his expressions held of confidence and pride. Like what a captain should have for his crew, such a face could go a long way to bring a crew from morale crisis. As he sits on the floor with his legs crossed, he places his axe down, making it stand straight up, standing by his side. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out with a heavy sigh. Now waiting for people to join his crew. He looked around the bar as he placed his heavy hands onto the table. They were so heavy in fact, you could hear the table creaking and about to break from the sheer weight of his force. As he waited, he looked around before pointing towards his table. "How about bringing me a keg of some good beer!" He shouted with an excited but old and deep voice. Almost hard to hear what he said properly if he weren't so loud. As he now waits for his beer, he strokes his big beard, closing his eyes and waits with patience.
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Brighton Anderson
New
Roleplay posts: 6
Physical Description: Brighton has a bizarre height for a human. Being at 10 feet / 300 inches in height and 209 pounds in weight. His body looks like it’s stretching, having long legs, long body and big feet. But is little around the belly when he is sitting. His hair is natural vivacious red and a beard that reaches to his chest. His eye color is brown.
Clothes and Equipment: He wears big and baggy grey pants, with big long black boots, white and loose shirt and a big red captain jacket. His back is most of the time hunched over as he's trying to take the weight of his leg.
Player's online availability : Evenings, +0 GMT zone
Registered: Oct 29, 2017 7:02:16 GMT -8
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Post by Brighton Anderson on Nov 1, 2017 12:57:14 GMT -8
"There's not much to mistake here. Brighton Anderson. Or do you prefer being called 'Red Beard'?" Windfeld asked with a smirk as he dropped one of the rolled up posters on the table in front of the gigantic human being. Whether it was one or the other name, Windfeld didn't care. He had waited for such an opportunity and immediately walked over to the pirate. "I am known as 'Windfeld Sea-shrieker' to those that sail the nights without flags..." he said with a croaky voice as he rolled out the poster revealing a dead squirrel inside it. "I found this!" he said almost enthusiastic and grinned revealing his brown stained teeth. "At the age of 48 harsh winters I am no longer young, and I'm sure you're probably looking for youngsters willing to go into their deaths for you. But I'd wager you'd need one to march them there..." he said and paused before continuing as his grin widened. "... And one to whip them back up and march on after that!" he said and grabbed his amulet chanting a few dark words as the obviously dead squirrel started squeaking and moving again before he plunged his dagger through its body effectively nailing it to the table, the squirrel relentlessly trying to move though still pinned. "This one won't be much of an asset on deck, but I think you can imagine what this kind of tenacity will do to the enemy's will to fight if it was a full grown pirate!". he said and laughed with his salty voice. "And I've got a few other tricks up my sleeve too... So can I call you 'captain'?" he said and politely tipped his hat with a wry smile. "Aye, that's me." He replied with a curious tone. Opening his eyes and looks down at the man before him. Seems there was someone new who wanted to join his crew, finally. This man seemed most certainly interesting by the looks of it. It helped that he brought a dead squirrel before him like it was a mere toy to play and mutilate. He waited patiently and listened to the man's introduction. Fixing himself as he gives him a raised eyebrow, grunting a little bit as he moved himself into a better position after sitting so long in one spot. He breaths heavily as smirks wide, showing his yellow teeth. Seems they had something in common, that's for sure. "Bahaha!" He laughs out as his smirk turned into a smile. Watching as Windfeld revived the squirrel before him. So he was a necromancer who had nothing better to do. He gives a small chuckle as he rests his hands onto the table as he looks down at him. Taking the knife off the squirrel and grabbing it before it could escape. He placed it on his hand and started to turn it slowly into a fist, locking it into place. As he took a deep breath and spoke. "Age does not matter, as long as you know how to hold weapon, know what ye are getting into than you have a high change of getting accepted into the crew." He says as he presses harder on the squirrel, making it unable to move and harder for it to breath. His smile turning back into a menacing grin. "I bet ye have some tricks up her sleeves. But first; Some questions." He says as he now completely closes his fist, crushing the squirrel, as blood starts to run down his hand and onto the table. "Tell me. What does it mean to ya to be pirate?" He starts off at first as he waits for his answer before giving him another question. "What is a captain to ya?" He asks, waiting once more before giving him one last question. "Any other reason why I should pick ya out of everyone else?"
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Windfeld 'Sea-shrieker'
Established
Roleplay posts: 43
Age: 48
Physical Description: Standing about 1.75 m tall, Windfeld is neither tall nor very muscular, though rugged and whether bitten are words that describe him well. Windfeld has a large, brown full beard and two eyes of different color each. His right is brown and the left is light blue and mostly kept behind a black patch.
Clothes and Equipment: Windfeld wears black boots, a large worn blue coat with a hat to match. Besides various exotic jewelry on his fingers, he wears a distinct necklace with a four leaf clover pendant with black gemstones and an carved ivory skull in the middle.
Registered: Nov 1, 2017 10:14:38 GMT -8
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Post by Windfeld 'Sea-shrieker' on Nov 1, 2017 13:54:33 GMT -8
Windfeld looked at the squirrel as Red Beard squashed it with incredible ease. His smile waned a bit hearing that his little show wasn't enough, but feeling like the guy in front of him was in a playful mood too, he decided it could do no harm.
"You're looking for answers why I'd go on a boat with you and plunder places? I suppose you're the guy who likes to pick your own privileges. Me on the other hand just like to explore and see the world! It's like an inner journey of peace." he said keeping a plain face before bursting into a rusty laughter slamming his palms into the table. "Haha! I bet you're not fooled that easily huh? Well have a look at this... but please don't paint the table with its entrails..." Windfeld said as he reached down and opened a bird's cage, as a parrot promptly flew up and landed on his left shoulder. "It's eyes are dull and its feathers tattered by years without nourishment. His name is Aberu and he's a bit special in his own way, but that's a another thing altogether." he said and stroked its lifeless body. "I like finding things, killing it, and then see if I can make it move again. Squirrels aren't really that interesting, but in other regions there are creatures that really pique my interest. In fact I find many things interesting that other people find repulsive, why this way of living is what I chose. Thus I am not interested in your part of the treasure or your ship, although I know my way around such a pram having sailed since I was seven years old." he said and grinned. "Do you find my ways repulsive Mr. Anderson?" he asked with a wry smile.
"More questions still? I am too old to sit here and lick your salty boots by telling you how highly I value you as a captain." Windfeld said slightly displeased. "A captain is merely the one who sets the course on the big boat and claims most of the treasure while never sweeping the deck. Good enough for me though..!" he said and chuckled. "But forget about picking me as one of your deck rats. I'm to old and grumpy for that, you'd serve me to the sharks in no time." he said and leaned back in the chair. "I propose you make me first mate instead. My experience in sailing far outweighs the strength I can put into manual labor anyway. Also I give slackers a pretty damn nasty gaze if I have to!" he said and pushed his eye patch to away revealing an ice blue left eye that seemed almost otherworldly in its hue. "Most of all though, you should hire me because I'd make an excellent figurehead with my winning smile!" he said and grinned wide again.
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Henry "Drake" Drake
New
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: 17
Physical Description: His skin tanned after years at sea, Henry has the looks of a nimble man light on his feat. Crows feet due to his time exposed to the sun nestle on the edges of his pale jade green eyes.
His auburn hair long enough for a fringe in front, and to cover part of his ears on the side.
His teeth, all still present, but with a shade of green to them due to the herb he's grown used to chewing on called Qat.
Together with calloused hands, cuts and scars sprinkled all over his body, he looks like a mixture of a child too young to be at sea, and a sailor who has seen far too much.
Clothes and Equipment: On a normal day you'd see him fashioned with loose garments mixing a short-neck shirt with flowing leather vests. Thin linen pants, rolled up to his knees, strapped by a thick leather belt with a heavy metal buckle. Strong enough to hold his rapier and daggers.
At sea he wears a tricorne hat to cover from the sun and rain, as well as a length of rope on his lower back for emergencies.
Besides his weapons, he has three small pouches. Coin, Qat, and a third one he rarely uses. And a thin looking glass, foggy and rusted.
Registered: Oct 30, 2017 5:18:07 GMT -8
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Post by Henry "Drake" Drake on Nov 1, 2017 16:40:53 GMT -8
This giant's sheer presence had everyone on edge. Everyone kept an eye on him, another on his axe on the floor. The poor serving wenches, pretending they couldn't seem him, just scurried about the room trying to get some distance. His bellow, impossibly loud, brought all eyes on him.
A man came in, walked straight to him with purpose, and began chatting. "Must be one of his mates" - Henry thought, until he pulled a squirrel out of nowhere and stabbed it against the table. "What are they doing? I need to get closer." - with that, Henry quickly stood up, with a flourish he took an empty stein from the hands of a frozen waitress, and kicked a rundlet free from a barrel stand, pushing and rolling it under legs and tables. He was almost invisible with all eyes stuck on the two men on the edge of the room.
Henry caught just the last bit of the long spiel of the older man, and with a burst of strength lifted the small barrel onto the table and slammed the stein next to where the squirrel had been. "Apologies for interrupting gentleman" - Henry began, up close the giant man stood almost twice his height, overwhelming to say the least. And the older man, he had a different sort of presence, terrifying, but different. - "I heard a drink was in order!" - with nimble fingers, Henry pulled a dagger from his belt, flipped it in the air, and shoved it twice on the head of the barrel. With gritted teeth, he lifted the rundlet, and let the smooth fermented yellow liquid pour into the stein.
"And of course! For us!" - Henry addressed the older man, as he turned into a couple of customers behind him, took two of their mugs and dropped their contents on the floor. Slamming both cups on the table. - "There's so such thing as a dry introduction, is there?"
Henry studied the men for a second, both of them standing taller than him. The older one looked feeble, but just standing near him was enough to make your skin crawl.
"Name's Drake." - Henry said addressing Redbeard - "I'm your new Navigator."
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Brighton Anderson
New
Roleplay posts: 6
Physical Description: Brighton has a bizarre height for a human. Being at 10 feet / 300 inches in height and 209 pounds in weight. His body looks like it’s stretching, having long legs, long body and big feet. But is little around the belly when he is sitting. His hair is natural vivacious red and a beard that reaches to his chest. His eye color is brown.
Clothes and Equipment: He wears big and baggy grey pants, with big long black boots, white and loose shirt and a big red captain jacket. His back is most of the time hunched over as he's trying to take the weight of his leg.
Player's online availability : Evenings, +0 GMT zone
Registered: Oct 29, 2017 7:02:16 GMT -8
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Post by Brighton Anderson on Nov 2, 2017 16:23:59 GMT -8
Windfeld looked at the squirrel as Red Beard squashed it with incredible ease. His smile waned a bit hearing that his little show wasn't enough, but feeling like the guy in front of him was in a playful mood too, he decided it could do no harm. "You're looking for answers why I'd go on a boat with you and plunder places? I suppose you're the guy who likes to pick your own privileges. Me on the other hand just like to explore and see the world! It's like an inner journey of peace." he said keeping a plain face before bursting into a rusty laughter slamming his palms into the table. "Haha! I bet you're not fooled that easily huh? Well have a look at this... but please don't paint the table with its entrails..." Windfeld said as he reached down and opened a bird's cage, as a parrot promptly flew up and landed on his left shoulder. "It's eyes are dull and its feathers tattered by years without nourishment. His name is Aberu and he's a bit special in his own way, but that's a another thing altogether." he said and stroked its lifeless body. "I like finding things, killing it, and then see if I can make it move again. Squirrels aren't really that interesting, but in other regions there are creatures that really pique my interest. In fact I find many things interesting that other people find repulsive, why this way of living is what I chose. Thus I am not interested in your part of the treasure or your ship, although I know my way around such a pram having sailed since I was seven years old." he said and grinned. "Do you find my ways repulsive Mr. Anderson?" he asked with a wry smile. "More questions still? I am too old to sit here and lick your salty boots by telling you how highly I value you as a captain." Windfeld said slightly displeased. "A captain is merely the one who sets the course on the big boat and claims most of the treasure while never sweeping the deck. Good enough for me though..!" he said and chuckled. "But forget about picking me as one of your deck rats. I'm to old and grumpy for that, you'd serve me to the sharks in no time." he said and leaned back in the chair. "I propose you make me first mate instead. My experience in sailing far outweighs the strength I can put into manual labor anyway. Also I give slackers a pretty damn nasty gaze if I have to!" he said and pushed his eye patch to away revealing an ice blue left eye that seemed almost otherworldly in its hue. "Most of all though, you should hire me because I'd make an excellent figurehead with my winning smile!" he said and grinned wide again. He chuckles as he shakes his head. "Of course I do not mind at all." He says as he drops the dead and squished squirrel onto the table placing it so it laid on it's back. Looking at the dead parrot and chuckles at the sight. "I can admire an explorer. Specially someone who is a murderer. Can have never enough of those!" He explained and looks back to him, showing annoyance in his eyes when he hears his answer. Gritting his teeth together. "Yer are wrong. A captain is not merely someone who points in a direction. The captain is the head of the body that is the ship. And the crew are all part of the body." he explained with a calm voice as he pressed his finger onto the dead squirrel, making it's intestines and blood go everywhere on the table. "Without the body parts, the head is nothing." He continued as he looked down at the squirrel and then back to Windfeld. "And without the head, the body is nothing. So we are all equal and have to work together. But everyone listens to the head because it knows what it's suppose to do and gives the other a purpose." He continues to explain as he presses his fingers and move the body off the table and down onto the floor. Making a loud splat as it landed. He slowly looks back to Windfield and leans towards him. Saying to him calmly. "Ya will get first mate when ye prove yourself. Why should I give the highest position to someone who just joined when I have a whole crew of men who have been with me for ages. But no worries, ya don't have to start scrubbing the floors. Surely ya can't wait to prove yerself worthy, eh?" But before he could continue, a person entered the conversation... This giant's sheer presence had everyone on edge. Everyone kept an eye on him, another on his axe on the floor. The poor serving wenches, pretending they couldn't seem him, just scurried about the room trying to get some distance. His bellow, impossibly loud, brought all eyes on him. A man came in, walked straight to him with purpose, and began chatting. " Must be one of his mates" - Henry thought, until he pulled a squirrel out of nowhere and stabbed it against the table. " What are they doing? I need to get closer." - with that, Henry quickly stood up, with a flourish he took an empty stein from the hands of a frozen waitress, and kicked a rundlet free from a barrel stand, pushing and rolling it under legs and tables. He was almost invisible with all eyes stuck on the two men on the edge of the room. Henry caught just the last bit of the long spiel of the older man, and with a burst of strength lifted the small barrel onto the table and slammed the stein next to where the squirrel had been. "Apologies for interrupting gentleman" - Henry began, up close the giant man stood almost twice his height, overwhelming to say the least. And the older man, he had a different sort of presence, terrifying, but different. - "I heard a drink was in order!" - with nimble fingers, Henry pulled a dagger from his belt, flipped it in the air, and shoved it twice on the head of the barrel. With gritted teeth, he lifted the rundlet, and let the smooth fermented yellow liquid pour into the stein. "And of course! For us!" - Henry addressed the older man, as he turned into a couple of customers behind him, took two of their mugs and dropped their contents on the floor. Slamming both cups on the table. - "There's so such thing as a dry introduction, is there?" Henry studied the men for a second, both of them standing taller than him. The older one looked feeble, but just standing near him was enough to make your skin crawl. "Name's Drake." - Henry said addressing Redbeard - "I'm your new Navigator." ....He stared at him for a moment, blinking with a stone cold face. Before letting out his laugh and slams his fist onto the table. " Bahaha! I like this kid! Bold and funny!" He exclaimed as he wraps his big arm around the barrel of beer and pulls it towards him before pushing away the stein of beer that was for him. Smirking as he explains in his deep cold voice. "That pathetic mug can't even fill my thirst! There is a reason I ordered a whole barrel of beer and not some tiny mug. This whole barrel isin't enough to make me drunk!" He explained proudly and laughs once more as he lifts up the barrel, drinking from the hole Drake made, chucking for a whole minute without a pause. Once he was done, he took a breather and stroked the foam away from his mouth. "Yer are right about that for sure, kid." He starts off with and leans forward, breathing heavily as he looks him dead in the eyes. "But ya are going to have to answer my questions and prove yerself before ye get a position. Is that clear?"
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Windfeld 'Sea-shrieker'
Established
Roleplay posts: 43
Age: 48
Physical Description: Standing about 1.75 m tall, Windfeld is neither tall nor very muscular, though rugged and whether bitten are words that describe him well. Windfeld has a large, brown full beard and two eyes of different color each. His right is brown and the left is light blue and mostly kept behind a black patch.
Clothes and Equipment: Windfeld wears black boots, a large worn blue coat with a hat to match. Besides various exotic jewelry on his fingers, he wears a distinct necklace with a four leaf clover pendant with black gemstones and an carved ivory skull in the middle.
Registered: Nov 1, 2017 10:14:38 GMT -8
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Post by Windfeld 'Sea-shrieker' on Nov 2, 2017 23:40:00 GMT -8
"Well it is true that you cannot separate the head from the body without some... serious consequences!" Windfeld chuckled thinking back of one of his many experiments. As Red Beard leaned forward in all his intimidating presence, Windfeld felt a certain joy sensing the pure malice of the guy which made him flash a broad grin. "I love it!" he said joyfully. "If a captain wasn't able to put a guy like me in his place, the ship would be better off being run by a flesh walker." he said and smirked, of course referring to state of being after he raises the dead. "But you have my respect captain, and you're absolutely right. I can't wait to get going..." Windfeld said before another guy came to the table and he added muted. "Oh... there's a young one to start with..." he said and observed the boy placing the large beer keg on the table. "But then again the dead don't bring beer on their own accord and I'm very much thirsty!" he said and filled his mug before emptying it faster than you'd think such a guy was able to.
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Henry "Drake" Drake
New
Roleplay posts: 6
Age: 17
Physical Description: His skin tanned after years at sea, Henry has the looks of a nimble man light on his feat. Crows feet due to his time exposed to the sun nestle on the edges of his pale jade green eyes.
His auburn hair long enough for a fringe in front, and to cover part of his ears on the side.
His teeth, all still present, but with a shade of green to them due to the herb he's grown used to chewing on called Qat.
Together with calloused hands, cuts and scars sprinkled all over his body, he looks like a mixture of a child too young to be at sea, and a sailor who has seen far too much.
Clothes and Equipment: On a normal day you'd see him fashioned with loose garments mixing a short-neck shirt with flowing leather vests. Thin linen pants, rolled up to his knees, strapped by a thick leather belt with a heavy metal buckle. Strong enough to hold his rapier and daggers.
At sea he wears a tricorne hat to cover from the sun and rain, as well as a length of rope on his lower back for emergencies.
Besides his weapons, he has three small pouches. Coin, Qat, and a third one he rarely uses. And a thin looking glass, foggy and rusted.
Registered: Oct 30, 2017 5:18:07 GMT -8
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Post by Henry "Drake" Drake on Nov 3, 2017 6:50:16 GMT -8
"Yes...sir." - Henry tried to sound confident, but his voice betrayed him. The proximity came with a smell, maybe it was the red beard or just the breath, but something stank of all hell. A combination of rotting food and wet dog.
Henry took a step back to position himself - "I'll answer any questions you have! What do you want to know? Have I sailed? For close to a decade now! Do I know how to read a map? As good as any pirate! Have I killed?" - his own question made him hesitate, he had killed plenty of times, but for some reason, the question brought him back to the first time blood had stained his fingers - "I have." - he finished.
Reaching for his cup, he added - "The reason you'd want me as your navigator, over just any limp dick with too much salt in their eyes, is that I have a...let's call it a cheat." - realizing most people were listening in he lowered his voice - "A sense you could say, about the weather, and the currents." - he let that sink in, as he took a large gulp of the beer on his mug.
He had grown used to the bland taste of any liquid he put in his mouth. Like clear water that never quenched your thirst. A tingle brushed his lips, he took comfort in that. Any day food or drink gave made him feel anything besides hunger, was a great day.
"So what is it you want to know, oh Captain? I have nothing to hide." - he lied.
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