Post by cedarhanover on Oct 27, 2013 19:48:16 GMT -5
Name: Cedar Hanover
Nickname(s): None
Played by: LeasCelyn
Age: 46
Date of Birth: September 17th
Sexuality: Straight
Practice: Mercenary Sailor
Abilities: Water shaman. Some water and ice magic granted to him by his sword, but...
Artifact: A short sword with a gold hilt emblazoned with the title Atlantis. It grants him some magic ability but is under a curse lasting the duration of his lifetime that causes extreme poor luck in the area of sword play. If tossed aside it will inevitably find it's way back into his possession as part of the curse.
Loyalty: None
Status/Occupation: Rogue
Appearance: Reasonably tall and muscular but grizzled with the wear of age. His once bushy black hair is now grey and balding; he wears a bandana with a pin made out of fishbones to cover it up. Years of alcholism and substance abuse have rotted out most of his yellow teeth and his face is sullen and sunken in. He is covered in scars inflicted either by his own sword or in bar scuffles; the most noticeable is the loss of a large chunk of his right hand, including his index, middle and pinky finger.
Personality: Genuinely soft-hearted, but the struggles he's experienced have left him deeply troubled and he doesn't go out of his way to get to know others. He is stubborn, and will go to great lengths to do whatever is asked of him by those which he considers his superiors, even if it is something he considers amoral. Though naturally a kind person, when under the influence of alcohol he can very easily fly into violent rages, often ending with injury for one or more parties. Unfortunately he is very most definitely an alcoholic, often taking part of his payment in whiskey, rum and cigars.
History: Cedar was born on terra firma, but from the age of ten on he was more often then not at sea with his father Lachlan, a trade ship captain. He was a curious and active child who spent most of his days playing in the ship's rigging; but one thing entranced him more then any other, and that was the idea of inheriting the Hanover family heirloom, a short sword named Atlantis. He often trained with wooden toys, and despite being somewhat clumsy with determination and practice he showed promise as a swordsman.
But by the time he was 17 and a full fledged member of the crew, trouble was brewing in the human kingdom. Usurpers threatened to overthrow the current royal family, and one night a few of Lachlan's crew members who had pledged loyalty to these rebels announced mutiny. Lachlan himself was quickly captured and hung from the ship's mast, and so Cedar did the only thing he could do- he took up his father's sword himself to join the fight. But he was quickly overpowered and thrown off the side of the ship, into the freezing water below. As it was considered bad luck among sailors, he was a poor swimmer and quickly began to drown. As he let go of Atlantis, he used his last moments of consciousness to plea for his life to any god who would listen.
When he awoke on the morning, he was on a sandy beach. He quickly discovered that the sword was somehow strapped to his back despite his memory of letting go of it. As time went on, the new properties of Atlantis slowly revealed themselves- not only could he no longer rid himself of it, but it had become imbued with mysterious powers of ice and water. At the same time, his own capacity to utilize it waned and became dismal, and he more often then not seemed to injure himself in combat. Poorer then ever, he settled into a difficult adult life as a mercenary sailor and picked up habits such as drinking and gambling to drown his sorrows...
Roleplay Sample:
The large, intimidating man strode along the docs, going mostly wherever he wanted without being questioned. He had just landed after his last commission, and reached into a satchel at his side to pull out a cheap cigar from the pack he'd received. He sat on a wooden post for a moment to rest and to light up, sea salt clinging to his weeks unwashed whiskers. He could take a moment to himself for now, but soon he would have to put up with another crew.
He cracked a hoarse smile at the thought of another monotonous journey, but what else was there to do? He'd considered retiring, but had no other way to support himself. In the end he figured he was doomed to die at sea somewhere, and that he might as well continue on until that day came.
Nickname(s): None
Played by: LeasCelyn
Age: 46
Date of Birth: September 17th
Sexuality: Straight
Practice: Mercenary Sailor
Abilities: Water shaman. Some water and ice magic granted to him by his sword, but...
Artifact: A short sword with a gold hilt emblazoned with the title Atlantis. It grants him some magic ability but is under a curse lasting the duration of his lifetime that causes extreme poor luck in the area of sword play. If tossed aside it will inevitably find it's way back into his possession as part of the curse.
Loyalty: None
Status/Occupation: Rogue
Appearance: Reasonably tall and muscular but grizzled with the wear of age. His once bushy black hair is now grey and balding; he wears a bandana with a pin made out of fishbones to cover it up. Years of alcholism and substance abuse have rotted out most of his yellow teeth and his face is sullen and sunken in. He is covered in scars inflicted either by his own sword or in bar scuffles; the most noticeable is the loss of a large chunk of his right hand, including his index, middle and pinky finger.
Personality: Genuinely soft-hearted, but the struggles he's experienced have left him deeply troubled and he doesn't go out of his way to get to know others. He is stubborn, and will go to great lengths to do whatever is asked of him by those which he considers his superiors, even if it is something he considers amoral. Though naturally a kind person, when under the influence of alcohol he can very easily fly into violent rages, often ending with injury for one or more parties. Unfortunately he is very most definitely an alcoholic, often taking part of his payment in whiskey, rum and cigars.
History: Cedar was born on terra firma, but from the age of ten on he was more often then not at sea with his father Lachlan, a trade ship captain. He was a curious and active child who spent most of his days playing in the ship's rigging; but one thing entranced him more then any other, and that was the idea of inheriting the Hanover family heirloom, a short sword named Atlantis. He often trained with wooden toys, and despite being somewhat clumsy with determination and practice he showed promise as a swordsman.
But by the time he was 17 and a full fledged member of the crew, trouble was brewing in the human kingdom. Usurpers threatened to overthrow the current royal family, and one night a few of Lachlan's crew members who had pledged loyalty to these rebels announced mutiny. Lachlan himself was quickly captured and hung from the ship's mast, and so Cedar did the only thing he could do- he took up his father's sword himself to join the fight. But he was quickly overpowered and thrown off the side of the ship, into the freezing water below. As it was considered bad luck among sailors, he was a poor swimmer and quickly began to drown. As he let go of Atlantis, he used his last moments of consciousness to plea for his life to any god who would listen.
When he awoke on the morning, he was on a sandy beach. He quickly discovered that the sword was somehow strapped to his back despite his memory of letting go of it. As time went on, the new properties of Atlantis slowly revealed themselves- not only could he no longer rid himself of it, but it had become imbued with mysterious powers of ice and water. At the same time, his own capacity to utilize it waned and became dismal, and he more often then not seemed to injure himself in combat. Poorer then ever, he settled into a difficult adult life as a mercenary sailor and picked up habits such as drinking and gambling to drown his sorrows...
Roleplay Sample:
The large, intimidating man strode along the docs, going mostly wherever he wanted without being questioned. He had just landed after his last commission, and reached into a satchel at his side to pull out a cheap cigar from the pack he'd received. He sat on a wooden post for a moment to rest and to light up, sea salt clinging to his weeks unwashed whiskers. He could take a moment to himself for now, but soon he would have to put up with another crew.
He cracked a hoarse smile at the thought of another monotonous journey, but what else was there to do? He'd considered retiring, but had no other way to support himself. In the end he figured he was doomed to die at sea somewhere, and that he might as well continue on until that day came.