I myself prefer the trail of a navigator or an educated fellow, also I find the life of a drifter to be rather nice, it gives you the option of diverse interaction, and be I may a pirate, that does not mean I must be cruelKnight Captain Kerr wrote:I wonder if anyone else will join as a crew member of a ship as opposed to a Captain. Also interesting how we only have one person so far who is an official pirate.
Basically the same as he was, but tweaked and altered only in the slightest
:
Name: Don León
Sex: Male
Age: 47
Physical description: He is rather tall for a Spaniard. He sports black hair that has been braided to a length. He often has a beard in the mist of growing, but only that of his chin seems to be lush. His eyes are brown but can be described as a hollow sight. His figure is rather skinny compared to others, but he is far from frail. One would not guess how athletic such a sickly fellow can be. He seems to have a few occasion scars, but many seem to vanish without a trace. He has tribal tattoos upon his body, the most notable one is under his right eye.
Personality: He is very friendly and always honorable to his word. Others could very well describe him as unusually comical and yet simply over joyed just to be alive. He seems to have a charm that wins over others with kindness, always being the first to lift up others gloomy natures. In reality though, he fights sever depression and has a very grim past, one he is not fond of sharing. he has suffered from isolation and rejection, truly facing the worst the world has. He believes that with his help, others may not fall into the same fate as he. Though he is willing to fight, he is very hesitant and would prefer more peaceful means. One would never expect him to be a pirate, seeing as he has no desire for wealth or greed but for the sake of adventure.
Weapons and related skills: Using a tool from a more elegant time, he wields a rapier of superb quality. He is more than capable of adapting his swordsmanship when needed. On him he carried two flintlock pistols, but finds them less appealing but is adept none the less. He is fond of carrying a boarding hook that is wrapped around his waist and tucked to his right. It is shaped to resemble a claw, offering it a blunt backhand and a grip that can tear wood. On the opposing end piece is a small steel ball bounded that offers a counter weight or blunt weapon. Though less skilled when used for combat, it serves a more practical intent. He also carries a flask full of salt water, but most consider this a joke.
Apparel: He wears on his head two bandanas, red over white. He has been known for wearing hats, but seems to keep losing them. He wears a black leather jerkin paired with a white doublet and black breeches. Keeps a sash around his waist under his dark leather belt. Near his left side rests a scabbard. Across his torso rests a leather strap with a buckle, he is fond of storing flintlocks across it's front, it aids in supporting his belt and securing his gear. Hanging across his waist are 5 leather straps fixed to his jerkin, underneath they studded with steel. He sports tall boots made of rough leather, upon the toes it is cased in steel tip.
A weird keepsake of his, he had bound a carved human skull near his belt. Unbeknownst to many, it is a cursed tool. Only those of the undead or dark powers can hear it's whispers, it hold secrets that are invaluable but rarely relevant.
Backstory: Once a man known for his skills, he was a conquistador for the Spanish Crown. His name achievements were to be known in history, but none so like his dream. He searched all he could through the the New World, but no signs were ever found of his goal. His skills of exploring only fueled his desire, but some in his crew grew tired of his dreams. Upon the year of 1521, he set upon land again, only to be attacked by the natives. Only a few were harmed but doomed by the poison inflicted upon them. A mutiny was avoided, but grim it was, their captain laid dieing on the beach as his crew set sail. Word had spread of his demise, but no word was given about his body. Rather than face disgrace, an empty grave was made to hide their lies from history.
Unknown to the outsiders, the natives claimed their kill for their own. In honor of their victory, his body was placed upon an alter, a man of great promise who met his own fate. His body laid upon the stone pillar, but fate was cruel, for under him stood the very goal he sought. It was not wealth or gold, but the very waters of Youth. In the year of 1539, another group of adventurers set off, a party lead by Hernando de Soto. Among him were 50 slaves, but very much a shaman was among them. Fate had plans in store, and the shaman listened for his instructions. He bid his time till the voices of spirits could be heard, he managed escape his captures only to stumble upon a ruin alter laying among a fountain of water. Resting upon it was a skeleton, a man who's soul was never at rest. None will know why, but the shaman preformed a ritual, completing what should of been by ages past. Drawing forth the soul, he bounded it to it's corpse and cursed it with life. Fate was unkind, and the shaman bid farewell to his deed. Left alone with his new life, he was unable to cope with his fate. The very waters he searched were now flowing around him, but he was now a deadman. Irony had struck him, and even his savior was ultimately his tormentor. The very water turned him to bones, he could not drink it's power. Immortality has already been granted, but false and twisted it was.
Over the eras he had wandered, searching for a reason to move. He could not fit among the living without being shunned and death was denied for him. To deny his "gift" was to be hell itself. Even the local tribes grew to fear him, but were not so rash to torment him. For many years he even spent in idle at the bottom of the sea, already lost in time. Fate had struck him again, and a whisper called forth to him. A cursed skull was found among a ruined ship, telling him what it was he wanted to hear. It is here he found new hope, a reason to live. Not for dreams, but to see to for others. Taking the name Don Leon, he faced the harsh reality of the world and braved the bitter winds.
He drifted from ships to crews, never managing to stay in place. Sometimes alone on a scrap of wood, others among friends, and often among mates who in the end feared the discovery of his curse like an omen. It did not take long for rumors to spread, accounting a deadman whom drifted and brought misfortune. He had earned the tale of Dead Drift, but those who told the story he seemed to always outlive. He tried ever harder to gain acceptance from society, growing humorous and filling his void with music. But to him all was a grim tale that seemed to have only started the day before.
His tale grew to be more of a legend, drifting from voyager to voyager, never bound to one. He also has tales of many, some of courageous men and women and their deeds. He was fortunate to meet a few, but he still dwells on thoughts on how they be faring, though some have been lost in the age of time.
Nearing the current times, Don Leon was once again stranded in open waters upon a raft. He was marooned on an island, just like many before. Though this time it was not by man, but nature. A storm had ravaged the waters, and he alone was a survivor from an unlucky vessel. With the drift wood he was able to craft his escape from isolation, and off to the open sea. If luck had favored him, a ship would surely rescue him before he sinks.
Allegiance: Pirate
Position that you desire: Navigator
Ships type/size, Description, Name: Temporary in design, it is nothing more a boat but rather a linear raft. It is made of out of scrap wood from a destroyed vessel, using the ropes to bind it together. It is rather small but allows protection from the water. It has an attempt at a mast, but is nothing but a stick with a torn sail. He has also placed a Jolly Roger flag at the top, but mistakenly is upside down. Only thing at hand upon the raft is an old oar, whether used for transport or catching his next flying meal.
Pirate's Code: Despite shifting to various crews, he still upholds his own code; Prosperity over Greed
Language: Due to his many years he has learned many of the major languages of his fellow Europeans, but his true skill comes from non-verbal translation. Something he picked up from interacting with natives, he now has a means to communicate with local tribes and even understand some of their speech. He does however forget which dialect he speaks, and thus is more of an impulse. His most dominate speech is his heritage, Spanish.
Sex: Male
Age: 47
Physical description: He is rather tall for a Spaniard. He sports black hair that has been braided to a length. He often has a beard in the mist of growing, but only that of his chin seems to be lush. His eyes are brown but can be described as a hollow sight. His figure is rather skinny compared to others, but he is far from frail. One would not guess how athletic such a sickly fellow can be. He seems to have a few occasion scars, but many seem to vanish without a trace. He has tribal tattoos upon his body, the most notable one is under his right eye.
Personality: He is very friendly and always honorable to his word. Others could very well describe him as unusually comical and yet simply over joyed just to be alive. He seems to have a charm that wins over others with kindness, always being the first to lift up others gloomy natures. In reality though, he fights sever depression and has a very grim past, one he is not fond of sharing. he has suffered from isolation and rejection, truly facing the worst the world has. He believes that with his help, others may not fall into the same fate as he. Though he is willing to fight, he is very hesitant and would prefer more peaceful means. One would never expect him to be a pirate, seeing as he has no desire for wealth or greed but for the sake of adventure.
Weapons and related skills: Using a tool from a more elegant time, he wields a rapier of superb quality. He is more than capable of adapting his swordsmanship when needed. On him he carried two flintlock pistols, but finds them less appealing but is adept none the less. He is fond of carrying a boarding hook that is wrapped around his waist and tucked to his right. It is shaped to resemble a claw, offering it a blunt backhand and a grip that can tear wood. On the opposing end piece is a small steel ball bounded that offers a counter weight or blunt weapon. Though less skilled when used for combat, it serves a more practical intent. He also carries a flask full of salt water, but most consider this a joke.
Apparel: He wears on his head two bandanas, red over white. He has been known for wearing hats, but seems to keep losing them. He wears a black leather jerkin paired with a white doublet and black breeches. Keeps a sash around his waist under his dark leather belt. Near his left side rests a scabbard. Across his torso rests a leather strap with a buckle, he is fond of storing flintlocks across it's front, it aids in supporting his belt and securing his gear. Hanging across his waist are 5 leather straps fixed to his jerkin, underneath they studded with steel. He sports tall boots made of rough leather, upon the toes it is cased in steel tip.
A weird keepsake of his, he had bound a carved human skull near his belt. Unbeknownst to many, it is a cursed tool. Only those of the undead or dark powers can hear it's whispers, it hold secrets that are invaluable but rarely relevant.
Backstory: Once a man known for his skills, he was a conquistador for the Spanish Crown. His name achievements were to be known in history, but none so like his dream. He searched all he could through the the New World, but no signs were ever found of his goal. His skills of exploring only fueled his desire, but some in his crew grew tired of his dreams. Upon the year of 1521, he set upon land again, only to be attacked by the natives. Only a few were harmed but doomed by the poison inflicted upon them. A mutiny was avoided, but grim it was, their captain laid dieing on the beach as his crew set sail. Word had spread of his demise, but no word was given about his body. Rather than face disgrace, an empty grave was made to hide their lies from history.
Unknown to the outsiders, the natives claimed their kill for their own. In honor of their victory, his body was placed upon an alter, a man of great promise who met his own fate. His body laid upon the stone pillar, but fate was cruel, for under him stood the very goal he sought. It was not wealth or gold, but the very waters of Youth. In the year of 1539, another group of adventurers set off, a party lead by Hernando de Soto. Among him were 50 slaves, but very much a shaman was among them. Fate had plans in store, and the shaman listened for his instructions. He bid his time till the voices of spirits could be heard, he managed escape his captures only to stumble upon a ruin alter laying among a fountain of water. Resting upon it was a skeleton, a man who's soul was never at rest. None will know why, but the shaman preformed a ritual, completing what should of been by ages past. Drawing forth the soul, he bounded it to it's corpse and cursed it with life. Fate was unkind, and the shaman bid farewell to his deed. Left alone with his new life, he was unable to cope with his fate. The very waters he searched were now flowing around him, but he was now a deadman. Irony had struck him, and even his savior was ultimately his tormentor. The very water turned him to bones, he could not drink it's power. Immortality has already been granted, but false and twisted it was.
Over the eras he had wandered, searching for a reason to move. He could not fit among the living without being shunned and death was denied for him. To deny his "gift" was to be hell itself. Even the local tribes grew to fear him, but were not so rash to torment him. For many years he even spent in idle at the bottom of the sea, already lost in time. Fate had struck him again, and a whisper called forth to him. A cursed skull was found among a ruined ship, telling him what it was he wanted to hear. It is here he found new hope, a reason to live. Not for dreams, but to see to for others. Taking the name Don Leon, he faced the harsh reality of the world and braved the bitter winds.
He drifted from ships to crews, never managing to stay in place. Sometimes alone on a scrap of wood, others among friends, and often among mates who in the end feared the discovery of his curse like an omen. It did not take long for rumors to spread, accounting a deadman whom drifted and brought misfortune. He had earned the tale of Dead Drift, but those who told the story he seemed to always outlive. He tried ever harder to gain acceptance from society, growing humorous and filling his void with music. But to him all was a grim tale that seemed to have only started the day before.
His tale grew to be more of a legend, drifting from voyager to voyager, never bound to one. He also has tales of many, some of courageous men and women and their deeds. He was fortunate to meet a few, but he still dwells on thoughts on how they be faring, though some have been lost in the age of time.
Nearing the current times, Don Leon was once again stranded in open waters upon a raft. He was marooned on an island, just like many before. Though this time it was not by man, but nature. A storm had ravaged the waters, and he alone was a survivor from an unlucky vessel. With the drift wood he was able to craft his escape from isolation, and off to the open sea. If luck had favored him, a ship would surely rescue him before he sinks.
Allegiance: Pirate
Position that you desire: Navigator
Ships type/size, Description, Name: Temporary in design, it is nothing more a boat but rather a linear raft. It is made of out of scrap wood from a destroyed vessel, using the ropes to bind it together. It is rather small but allows protection from the water. It has an attempt at a mast, but is nothing but a stick with a torn sail. He has also placed a Jolly Roger flag at the top, but mistakenly is upside down. Only thing at hand upon the raft is an old oar, whether used for transport or catching his next flying meal.
Pirate's Code: Despite shifting to various crews, he still upholds his own code; Prosperity over Greed
Language: Due to his many years he has learned many of the major languages of his fellow Europeans, but his true skill comes from non-verbal translation. Something he picked up from interacting with natives, he now has a means to communicate with local tribes and even understand some of their speech. He does however forget which dialect he speaks, and thus is more of an impulse. His most dominate speech is his heritage, Spanish.
Spoiler:
Abilities: He is trapped in an undead state, his soul bounded to his corpse. When touched by the sea or rain his body shall turns to bones, a living skeleton is he. If he is cast overboard, not even Davy Jones will claim him, and so he will sink. The sea shall mend his broken body, for that is when the curse is at it's strongest. Upon land he can mimic the living, but retains a more vulnerable state. If he dies like a mortal, he will return to that of a corpse, but his soul is forever forced to be trapped in it's prison. Only in death is he truly immortal but a curse it is, not a blessing. He has learned to make the best of it, for what it's worth.
Other: ~He has a grand instinct for exploration, going so far to excel at navigation. Even in this age, he has learned to rely more on skill than simple tools.
~Later in life, he has filled his void with the love of music and humor. His instrument of choice is the violin, but finds it hard to find one ever in good condition.
~As he is the product of dark arts, forms of magic have a unique effect on him, he is no different than a spirit. A deadman he is, however his curse is absolute. An irony of his undeath, he seems to forget the passing of time and views the past as more recent than in reality.
~Rumors persist that when caught in the gaze of a full moon his curse is at it's weakest, but to what results is unknown.
Other: ~He has a grand instinct for exploration, going so far to excel at navigation. Even in this age, he has learned to rely more on skill than simple tools.
~Later in life, he has filled his void with the love of music and humor. His instrument of choice is the violin, but finds it hard to find one ever in good condition.
~As he is the product of dark arts, forms of magic have a unique effect on him, he is no different than a spirit. A deadman he is, however his curse is absolute. An irony of his undeath, he seems to forget the passing of time and views the past as more recent than in reality.
~Rumors persist that when caught in the gaze of a full moon his curse is at it's weakest, but to what results is unknown.
