John Henry

Dendyne

Senior Member

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Name:


Henry/John


Epiphet:


N/A
Age:


31


Race:


Human


Sex:


Male


Height:


6' 2" (188cm)
Weight:


210lbs (95.3kgs)


Region of Origin:


Rocha Branca, A small island nation detailed by a dynamic landscape of volcanoes, mountais, glaciers, hot spings and lava fields. The frigid climate and high winds of the island is caused by colliding turbulant air pressure systems that draws down cold air from high above, though the surrounding waters and most low lying areas near the shore remain temperate due to geothermal heat from below. The coasts are filled in by coarse, black sand hidden between broken bits of shale and sea-smoothed stones broken up by deadly crags building into sheer face cliffs along the North and South-East coasts while small mountain ranges and domineering volcanoes ring the South, East and North coasts. Closer towards the interior the lands plateaus into lava fields, glaciers and sandy Earth.


Pela Baia is the Capital, a port city located on the Eastern coast where most of the major cities lie.


 


The culture of Rocha Branca is a harsh one that values strength and loyalty to one's family above all else, due to this it is not unlikely for a Brancan to go above and beyond for their loved ones at the drop of a hat. They do not, however, carry that loyalty beyond the ones they care for and distrust strangers greatly. Due to this the island's major tribes, the Caes de Guerra of the North, the Homem Sabio in the South-East, the Quebrado Alliance to the West and the Rico Diabo that run the Capital and surrounding lands are often at war with each other. In times of peace, the island nation comes alive with primal music, heavy with drum beats, and theatrical arts depicting epic tales of heros journeying across unexplored seas and fighting great beasts with the might of their strength and fiercness of will. Rocha Branca is most famed for it's spiced rum, black as night and smoother than the devil's silver tongue, brewed in coven houses run by 'Liquor Lords', Rich and powerful merchants that made their fortunes through pub sales and the export of alcohol. Alcohol itself is of cultural signifigance on Rocha Branca as well, most young boys are encouraged to begin indulging as early as 8 years old and it is considered unhealthy for someone to absolve from drinking any alcohol for too long.  


Position:


Cannoneer preferably 


Appearance:


A Fairly tall man with pale skin barely kissed by a tan, typically wears worn out woolen clothing compete with hooded coat of seal skin. Off of Rocha Branca, where the sun's embrace is strong and warm, John would abandon the coat and trade in his woolen clothes for a woolen vest and linen pantaloons. He carries 6 flintlock pistols and a sabre, 2 guns on the right hip while the rest lined either side of his rib cage, his sword dangles from the left hip should some poor sod want to get up close and personal.


John's hair is a short crop of walnut toned waves with a grungy spread of stubble across his pointed chin, his eyes would be chestnut most of the time but in time of great stress or high euphoria one would swear they took on an orange tinge.  


About:


John is a force of determination not to be taken lightly, built from the ashes of a frail child that was often picked on and left out, he is heavily equipped with an abundance of confidence bordering on arrogance that he developed along with skills as a sailor on fishing expeditions with his father. Though he can come across as a bit of a self-centered prick, he's loyal to those he cares about and places a great deal of faith in them, along with a sense of empathy that harkens back to what it was like to be that weak little boy everybody picked on. An empathy that rears it's head when it counts the most. John is also very pragmatic most of the time, knowing how easy it is to get burned if you let your guard down, he plays his cards close to his chest and does what he needs to do to achieve his goals.


Mostly, John is a strong, capable and occasionally quick-witted man with a mischievous, typically sarcastic sense of humor, a gift from his mother, that has been the cause of some of his greatest blunders and achievments alike. Despite the almost cruelly realistic view on life and the world in general John can be a bit of a dreamer when he lets his defense slip away, he believes greatness is meant for anyone with the willingness and perseverence to fight for it.   


Powers & Abilities:


Glib tongue, hardy consitution, sword play, politics to some degree, sense of honor, fair organisational skills, sailor, fisherman, survivalist and not a bad singer either.. little pitchy at times but he's got a good voice when he finds his range.


Timeline:


3112 - John is born, a small and frail child in the small port town of Escravo on the Western coasts, South of Pela Baia.


3118 - Asherah, John's younger sister is born..


3120 - John begins sailing with his father on fishing expeditions.


3128 - John's mother leaves in the night after getting fed up with her hate/love relationship with his father.


3129 - Asherah forces John to bring her along when he leaves Escravo and heads for Pela Baia to make a name for himself as a tournament fisherman.


3130 - After a year without much success or fortune, the sibling duo falls into destitution and while John works odd jobs for whatever Merit he can get, Asherah thieves cargo and food from docked ships at the port. Unfortunately she is caught stealing from a rebel crew's ship known as 'St. Augustine's Church' and is forced to serve the ship as a deckhand for until next they docked as her punishment but after catching word of this, John successfully convinces the rebel captain, Davey Morgan, to trade his service for her freedom. Asherah stows away on the ship anyway.


3133 - John becomes the captain of the rebel crew with Asherah as his first mate after Captain Morgan is gunned down in a battle with a Horus Society ship.


3139 - John is marooned on an umarked, deserted island while Asherah is kidnapped the crew after John is accussed of skimming off the top of the loot in a swift coup.


3141 - John escapes the island and after making landfall, begins travelling Meerba in search of his sister and mutinous crew.


3143 - John runs down the last of his leads and decides that he may need to change his tactics, so he sets about finding a more permanent crew to help make a name for himself while he continues his search, in hopes that if Asherah was still alive she would eventually come to learn of his own survival and try to find him as well.
 
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Okayyy, I read it through, and I have some questions/concerns:


1st: I understand he is arrogant and has issues connecting with others. That's something we can work with, I suppose, though I need you to ensure that you can logically be part of our group. Which brings me to...


2nd: If he is so driven by strength, and persues it, too, then I find it difficult to see him join. We're going to be strong (I hope) but we won't be the kings of the world right off the bat.


3rd: The combination of tragic backstory (dead sister, probably dead mom through suicide + strength-boner + arrogance make him seem a little cookie cutter edgelord, mostly because nothing in this sheet gives him personality beyond those things. People are usually more than just driven by one emotion. Like, I think he needs to be more fleshed out, as a human being, you know?


4th. If he's gonna have a fruit, I need to have some info on why. How did he find it? They're SUPER rare, remember that.
 
Mmmmkay, I think I getcha bud, i'll scrub some of that edgelord out, make him a little more personable, little human and figure something out for the fruit if I keep it.. got some good already I think!
 
That looks much better, good job, mi amigo! Okay, tiny few notions on my end:


There's been quite a few typos, which I know happen easily when you revise a text while changing large parts of it as well. The only reason I mention it, is so you know to look out for that when it comes to roleplaying.


Also, and this is not really a critique so much as it is informing you: If Henry's former ship were actually headed for the World Beyond North, they'd have to either extremely powerful, or extremely stupid! xD That means they'll either definitely die (and, if his sister is on board with them, she'll too.) or they are so absurdly powerful that Horus would likely send their strongest agents after them. That means they're in extreme danger, and, of course, Henry wouldn't really have any value to them, and both he and his sister would've gotten just killed off (unless they're actually nice guys?) So, just logically, they would have to be stupid to assume they'd make it in the World Beyond North. Which is fine, but I want you to know that, if Asherah is still on that ship, she's in superb danger. Just so you can form your own arc how you wish it to play out.


Otherwise I'm cool with the sheet. Acceptance goes in two parts, more or less. If you're ready to go on your end, I'd like you to write out the day before Henry and the others meet. Basically, the way it goes is that our crew hasn't yet formed properly. We'll all come together on an island called Shear, which is a rather quiet and idylic little hotspot for people looking to relax. Now, I'd like you to write out (like a roleplay post) how you got there, and perhaps how you react to the island upon arriving. This is so I can gauge your grasping of the setting a little further, and to gauge writing style, since sometimes those things are sort of incomptable. After that, John Henry is also set to go! owob
 
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[[ Oh that ol' thing? lol thanks dude, I am pretty happy with how it turned out [/proudface] and after fixing it so it doesn't physcically hurt me to read(and making some minute changes) I think I can totes mcgoats call that a finished CS! ]]


The sun bared down from it's perch, high in the sky. Beating down on the dull, golden sand of the beach and exposed bits of flesh on John's lower legs that had slid out of the shaded cover of the palms above. The cuffs of his dirty linen pants were rolled up just above his knees, cutting into the meat of his thighs gingerly as the gentle ocean breeze rippled through the fabric rousing the man they belonged to from his unscheduled slumber. John opened his eyes gently, cautiously in the face of the noon-hour light and sniffed the crisp, saltiness on the air and let out a staccato of short, sharp sneezes that were nearly ritualistic in his morning routine.


~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~




John had come into port late in the day, the day before, with a crew he had been traveling with for the last several months on a ship called the 'Black Hound' that had less of a hand in piracy and a much bigger part to play in rum-running. They had come in to port refill their liquor stocks but John elected to stay behind as he had heard rumours from several different taverns on at least two seperate island nations that a woman bearing the same birthmark as his little sister, Asherah. A faint buttonhook shaped scarring high on the left cheekbone. Could be seen working in a small brotherl somewhere in the island's interior but after a late night of questioning tavern keepers, servers and patrons, as well as the majority of the tramps and harlots John had come up frusterated yet again with no leads to show for it. Not bothering to rent out a room on such a pleasantly balmy night, John spent the last of his Merit on a bottle of rum from one of the few places still open and found a spot on the beach that he relax at while he sat and watched the waves rise and crash across the blackened sea. He drank his rum, blacker still, and drifted away into the sweet embrace of unconciousness as the early morning hours crepy by unnoticed.


~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~


 


The gentle surge of the tide rolled in wearing a white, foam cap, crashing gently on the shore and lapping at the line between the dampened shore and bone dry sand just out of reach of the sea. John watched the perpetual battle of land and sea with a mesmerized interest, tide rolled in and broke on the implacable beach in a primal rythme, the soothing caress of the ebb and flow seemed to ease the dull throbbing in John's head. Not by much but still.


The swash also conjured up images of his father in John's mind, a hard man that favored candor over compassion in raising his eldest, but John could only see the stoic, god-of-a-man that most every son saw in his father. He thought about a remark his father had made many times while they were out on bay with their nets out and little to do but nap and talk. John had a deep love for those moments of serenity, he spent a lot of time listening to the tales his father would spin. For everything that he was, John loved the man dearly.


A dull thud to his left drew John out of his thoughts aprubtly, a hand slipped under his linens and gripped the warm, smooth handle of a pistol as he spied the offender. A large coconut coated with a short, brown fuzz squatted on a bowl of sand not four feet away.


"Oi! I dinn't conk ya one di I?" A voice, thick with an accent John couldn't quite place, sounded off from somewhere up above, He looked up to see an olive skinned man almost as skinny as the palm he was straddling. The man smilled amiably and unwrapped an arm so he could give a short wave.


"Naw.." John began, then cleared his throat and spat a dime-sized ball of phlegm out at the sea, "You're good, mate.. I should be making tracks by now anyway,"


John threw a look down the beach, towards the town and drew his legs up underneath him and pushed himself up onto his feet, rising against his protesting body.


"Well yu have yaself a foine day, sur," The man called down before the audibly shuffle of his descent picked up.


"You too, friendo." John quipped back as he stretched out his back, with a gentle crasking and popping he finally felt awake. Well, awake enough to function at any rate. Then began his short journey back into town, contemplating his next step from here. This had been the last credible lead he had to follow, there had been stirrings and rumors of course. So long as there were Merit in his purse here would be no shortage of information, the credibility of said information was less than ideal.


"No.. I think I need to come at this from a different angle.." He murmed to himself, not even aware he had vocalized his thoughts.


"First thing's first, I need something to eat.."
 
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