Post by The Mysterious Mr. Jameson Q. on Apr 6, 2010 15:04:51 GMT -5
Awaken Now My Son
[/b][/size][/center][/u]
Username: brezzen
Is This Character Canon?: Nawp!Link to Audition Thread: N/A
So That The Masses May Know Your Name
[/b][/size][/center][/u]
Name: Alabaster Gains
Race: Human
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Homeworld: Port Royal
So That They May See Your Face, And Hear Your Voice
[/b][/size][/center][/u][/b] Find Work.
Appearance: Alabaster's not fine-featured or fair. His skin is rough, and his face and arms are adorned with multiple cuts and scars. His hair rarely gets cut, and is the gray-blonde of dishwater, though if he were to wash it once in a while it might have a richer and redder color. The majority of the time he looks gaunt, and almost sickly with the dark crescents beneath his eyes, which is strangely offset by the exuberant persona and healthy body-type.
His posture and stance are flexible, but athletically as opposed to acrobatically. His muscle is plain to see, and his role as a brawler is hard to overlook. Still, he holds himself with a casual looseness, and has a whimsical tone of speaking; which could be called free-spirited if it weren't so vulgar.
His attire is the last thing from regal, and he looks like every other roustabout and roughneck hanging around the pubs and brothels of Port Royal. The leathery texture of his garb is all toughened by the salt-sea air, from bandana to boot heels. He's rather traditional in his style, with a faded orange bandana, and black eyepatch over his right eye. Slung across his torso is a worn brown shirt, and a leathery duster with the sleeves cut away just past the elbows. His slacks are an off-white color, and tucked into gray-brown knee-high boots, all of which are generally fit to his person.
Personality:•General Persona:
- He is vulgar.
- He is bloodthirsty.
- He is wanton.
- He is corrupt.
- He is indifferent.
- He is affable.
•Inner Thought Process: Most people detest the rat-race nature of life the moment it starts popping up. They hate the point A to point B goals, and the impermanence, and the lack of a real impact on the world. The Rat-Race is where Alabaster excels, and he loves it. He finds complacency in discovering a different route or venue to just get by, and garners a certain comfort from the unknown. He lives in freedom, but his freedom has a system.
2. Indulge Vices.
3. Repeat[/ul]
He has a love for munny, not because he's greedy or miserish, but because it facilitates his movement from point A to B. He has a love for such things as drinking, smoking, and women, not because they wrong or because he needs them, but more in the sense of idle hobbies to pass time enjoyably. In this way, he is always aware and comfortable with the possibility of death; spawned from this, perhaps, is his comfort with his freewheeling life style and his tendency not to tie himself down to any particular place or person. Feeling occupied moment to moment until the day he draws that last breath is his ultimate goal.
•Displeasures: Alabaster has no fears, per se. Only activities, circumstances, and so on that he is not particularly comfortable with. He dislikes ships and sailing, easily getting seasick. He dislikes idle moments, in which he is doing nothing, and thus is not an avid fan of prisons, hospitals, or the like. He finds no interest in technology or tools of convenience, much preferring to work and work hard.
•Pleasures: The things Alabaster takes pleasure in are many, and the amount of detail I'd like to put in is minimal. In the effort to save time and sanity, I'll give the general outline. Alabaster likes two things in life; partying and hard work. Both are fulfilling, and grant him ease. After a long day of grueling sweat, he'll settle in for a short night of liquor and tobacco, and whatever else happens his way in the time before unconsciousness. The best sensations in the world, working hard, getting paid your day's wage, relaxing well, waking up penniless, and doing it all again.
•Quirks: Alabaster is neither a bad person, nor a good person, sharing qualities associated with both. In general, he could be romanticized as a light heart gone astray, or denounced as a dark soul feigning an innocent facade. He claims to be neither, and simply goes where he's interested in going.
His sea-sickness could be described as a quirk, along with his one-eye, and hard-working yet apathetic nature; but in reality all of those are just natural aspects of him.
[/blockquote]
Make Your Deeds Known To Them, So They May Gasp In Awe
[/b][/size][/center][/u]
Character Class: N/A
Stats:
•Strength: 19
•Cunning: 1
•Agility: 10
Abilities: Right there :)
Weapons:
Weapons:
Primary Weapon Name: Final Riposte
Primary Weapon Type: Bladed- Rapier
Primary Weapon Description: A black rapier with a bright blue sheathe. A well crafted and eye-catching piece of work.
Secondary Weapon Name: Parting Shot
Secondary Weapon Type: Ranged- Pistol
Secondary Weapon Description: A finely carved and beautifully engraved flintlock pistol. Double-barreled for extra death-dealing potential.
Tertiary Weapon Name: Objective Knuckle & Denial Cuff
Tertiary Weapon Type: Unarmed- Leather Gloves
Tertiary Weapon Description: Intimidating works of leather. There are small copper rings at the tip of each knuckle for that satisfying crunch.
Items:
•
•
•
•
[/blockquote]
Tell Them Your Story, Now They Will Listen
[/b][/size][/center][/u]History:
Alabaster's history isn't exactly the most interesting tale, nor the longest, and it's hardly even the epic woeful ballad you'd come to expect. No, it's plain and simple.
In one of the mainland's cities, Alabaster was born to humble parentage. He lived with his father and uncle (who were in business together), and his mother and two sisters. The family business was acclaimed to a small extent as an ironworks. His uncle managed the crafting, and his father the business, and together they made a fair profit, filling all a manner of orders for a wide clientele. His mother was often busy baking, for his two elder sisters to sell pastries and attract customers, adding to their business.
And Alabaster's job was delivery boy. He got to see the city, which served him well enough. Watching and interacting with all the individuals during their daily lives, asking them harmless questions about what they did, and he learned. Their jobs didn't seem especially hard at all, some of them in fact, looked quite easy, and he decided he could be anyone.
So as he grew older, the world called to him more and more. At the ripe old age of fifteen, and looking at least seventeen, he told his father he was going to enlist in the Royal Navy to fight the pirate scourge. He'd always fantasized about the uniforms, the action, the excitement, the adventure on the high seas. He felt it was something he'd be good at, and it would give the family a sense of pride. His father, open to the idea of the boy earning a real wage, consented hesitantly after a long discussion with his missus. They waved the boy off when he marched to the Royal Naval Academy, teary-eyed but happy.
It was several years that passed, and he was apt at his job. He learned to follow orders, shooting, swordsmanship, and sailing. He visited all sorts of places, and as a sailor, and a half-attractive one at that, whenever the ship came to port he was right down on the town. He was seventeen and in the prime of his life.
That was when he received a letter from back home. It was from his father. The ink was hardly legible, and teardrops splattered in several corners of the letter, but the boy knew his father's handwriting from all those years delivering to wrong addresses, and announcing the lord's name incorrectly. That summer, while his father had been reviewing their annual statistics, the rest of his family was enjoying their vacation in the gorge, a place several days trip away where they owned a summer home. The rains that year had been heavy, leaving the soil too soft, or mostly eroded away, and it only took one small storm to send a rockslide down upon the small house in the gorge.
The family had died instantly, it went on to say, god bless them. A tragic, freak accident, but at the very least they had not suffered. Their funeral would be held in several months, and Alabaster requested shore leave for the date. It was granted, but the months between now and then were harsh. His depression pervaded every day of his working life, storms pounded the ship as if brought on by the youth's mood, and on one particularly unfortunate day, a rope snapped. The rope was thick and hefty, and although Alabaster had done what he could to secure it, it wasn't enough. The cord swung back with a crack and dashed him in the eye, leaving it permanently blinded.
He lay in bed until the day of the funeral, and with each passing moment he grew to hate the sea. With his weakened depth perception, and his strengthening consciousness, his stomach began to boil over with anxiety. Eating became difficult.
The funeral was slow and painful, the bodies were covered because of the severity of disfigurement, and the priest turned the event of their lives into a sermon on the topic of resisting temptation. For once in his life, Alabaster left church halfway through. He offered to help his father continue the family business, but the man was too much of a drunken mess at this point. He could hardly hold down the temporary position as a clerk. So the old store was closed quietly, and Alabaster was left by the wayside.
Given a choice, he decided to just leave, venturing overland deep and deeper still to escape the reaches of the law, which followed him for deserting the navy. He never stayed in a place long, and eventually his grief left him, giving him a new life. Eventually he arrived in Port Royal, and has been there for the better part of year.
[/size]
