A World Time Forgot (interest check, looks for a few more male characters)

Started by IrishWolf, March 20, 2015, 05:56:21 PM

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GnothiSeauton

Name:  Beatrice “Betty” Cartwright
Age:  Twenty six years old.
Nationality:  American, half French on her mother's side.
Gender:  Female
Rank or profession:  Dancer
Sexuality:  Heterosexual (Bi-Curious)
Appearance: At a height of five foot six, Betty is light on her feet.  Her natural brown hair is usually kept short, but there have been more than a few times when she's changed it up with dies, wigs, and the like.  Devoid of tattoos and other markings.  She is rather petite, and in shape, keeping herself as limber and steady as she can in her profession and talent.
Weapons: Unarmed.
Personal effects:  Two trunks of clothes, hair pieces, make up, jewelry (mostly costume, some real), a few books, shoes, etc.
Special talents:  Singer.  Dancer.  Speaks some French.
History:  From a modest upbringing, Betty has pushed herself to be a good dancer like her mother was before her death.  It's become her passion, and has pushed herself to do her best each and every time.  Finding some slight success in various speakeasies and establishments, she is traveling to Havana in the hopes of finding better pay and a better life than traveling around constantly.
Sexual ons:  As a character, she is somewhat plain and vanilla.  I am open to her exploring more of her sexually adventurous side, but she's not into a great deal of things.
Sexual offs:   Scat, Body Mutilation, Vomit, and the like are hard offs for me.
If I can't have you, my love...  I'll destroy you
~World Building Workshop ~ Current Ideas and Requests  ~
~ Preferences ~ Status  ~ Nightmares and Inspirations~
~Gnothi's Stories Without Homes~
A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies... The man who never reads lives only one.

Seeking New Stories

IrishWolf

Awwww, the poor thing, thrown into the bestial wildness. Betty is accepted!

GnothiSeauton

Told you I'd finally get around to doing a character sheet, haha...
If I can't have you, my love...  I'll destroy you
~World Building Workshop ~ Current Ideas and Requests  ~
~ Preferences ~ Status  ~ Nightmares and Inspirations~
~Gnothi's Stories Without Homes~
A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies... The man who never reads lives only one.

Seeking New Stories

Lustful Bride

I just realized this rp really reminds me of a new game coming out called "Clockwork Empires" About colonists trying to settle a new land in the 16/1700s, only to be beset on all sides by Eldritch creatures.

Saying that I think we need Lovecraftian stuff, because that always adds some fun stuff.  :-)

IrishWolf

Alright folks, as always, accepting new characters and looking for male crew or male natives!

Belisuavious

I forgot this was re-activated, would you still accept
Robert Lee?
Quote from: Jecter on March 23, 2015, 12:53:04 AM
Name: Robert Lee
Age:18
Nationality: Canadian
Gender: Male
Rank or profession: Seaman
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Appearance:
Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide

Robert is a tall young man, standing just over six feet in is bare feet. Boots add a bit more, and while he has some filling out to do, he's broad enough across the shoulders that he certainly makes an imposing figure. Of course he lacks his full growth, the scars and the general "look" that his fellow crew mates have to truly complete the look.

Weapons: Pistol and rifle, both from the ship. He's a good shot with the rifle, having grown up on a farm and regularly hunted. The pistol, not so
much. He is also quite strong, again due to his farm upbringing and the few years he spent becoming a smuggler honed that raw strength into something approaching talent. He's not the most skilled hand to hand fighter, but he's strong and rather quick, all he's lacking is experience.

Personal effects: Literally the clothes on his back, having signed on in a hurry. He's got a bit of cash in his pocket but other than that, all he has is is clothes.

Special talents: He has deft hands and learns quickly, but other than being able to fight a bit better than most his age, he's a rather blank slate.

History: Robert, named for his grandfather and not the famed American, was the youngest of six children on a farm in southern Ontario. His father, a veteran of the Boer War, filled his head with stories from a young age. Were he to look back, he could probably point at those moments as the birth of a feeling of wanderlust that gripped him. It got worse when his oldest brother, born 7 years earlier, managed to lie his way into the army to participate in the dying days of the war at 16. When he came home, Robert was just 9 years old and full of envy, wanting to have adventures like his older brother. Of course, he didn't see what happened later that night, as his oldest brother and his father shared their other, darker memories of their wars. All Robert knew the next morning was the two of them had a headache and his father's prized bottle of whiskey was empty. Maybe if he had heard these stories he wouldn't have left.

Of course, he hadn't, and one the feelings did not diminish with time but grew stronger, and he spent his days wondering if he would spend the rest of his life staring at the same fields and tress and crops, and a trip to the city would be excitement enough for half a year. So, when he was 16, the same age his oldest brother had left, he left a note for his parents and slipped away in the night, determined to have himself a "proper adventure", and headed to Toronto.

That soured rather quickly. He was quite naive, and what little money he had managed to bring was gone far faster than he had thought. While work wasn't exactly difficult to find he still clung to the desire for excitement. That both stopped him from going back home, and drove him eventually to a group of whiskey smugglers. It was a chance encounter, Robert bumped into another young man, words were exchanged and a few minutes later the young man was alid out on the ground. The next thing Robert knew a few of the other man's associates arrived, and very pointedly told him that he had just knocked out their lookout. While it was currently his only option, Robert immediately volunteered to replace him.

Whatever was happening didn't concern Robert, not at the time anyway. He was paid (and quite a lot, compared to other jobs he had done in the past six months) to watch a certain direction and shoot off a flare if he saw anyone coming. Nobody came, and the next morning Robert was paid off, and offered another job. Of course, he immediately accepted.

One thing led to another, and the next year and a half saw the young farm boy grow up rather quickly. He was, for all intents and purposes, a gofer for the smugglers. One job would have him as a lookout, the next wold have him packing barrels and yet another had him work as security around a warehouse or get into a brawl with another group. They all sort of blended together in his mind, but the one that stick out is the first time he saw a murder. He supposed word had gotten around that he was a steady and reliable kid, because the next time he was brought along he was there as a fourth gun. Not that they handed him a weapon, but he was still brought into the room and saw a man get shot to death. He kept himself together until the job was done, but threw up as soon as he was alone.  After that, he supposed he was held in even higher esteem, and accompanied the actual smuggling itself. This was where things began to unravel.

It was a big job, this last one. Robert was a last minute replacement for a man who had gotten sick. Despite the size of the shipment, it was supposed to be relatively easy. Just go with the liquor across the lake, meet their contact, get paid and come back. It fell apart almost as soon as they reached the American shore. Another gang had gotten wind of the drop, and as the whiskey was being unloaded they ambushed the contact. It was a clusterfuck, to put it mildly. Robert and his two partners survived but the Americans did not. The man with the money had been shot so many times his torso looked like it had been shredded, and there was barely any money that wasn't shot up or bloodstained. What they did find was a note in the mans pocket, containing the name and address of the man the whiskey would eventually be sold to. A plan was formed then to continue loading the whiskey onto the truck, which had somehow escaped damage, and bring it straight to the buyer. One of them would go back to tell their boss the new plan, and while Robert was originally chosen for that, he couldn't manage the boat and so he found himself on the way to New York.

While the trip there was uneventful it was just the calm before the storm. The buyer, which they had trouble even contacting, didn't believe their story, and accused them of being cops. This led to another shootout and it was here that Robert first killed a man. Then he killed some more, and this time he had no time to feel horrified or sick, all he could do was keep his head down and keep firing. Finally, the shooting stopped. Roberts partner was bleeding out, and he heard more men coming, and it wasn't likely to be the police. So he ran, and finding himself near the docks, fell in with the first crew that would have him.

Sexual ons: Robert is rather inexperienced, aside from a few tumbles with a whore after some of his fellows found out he was a virgin.
Sexual offs: Gore, vore, scat and toilet play.

IrishWolf