Quirky's Peoples :D

[Quirk]

I usually don't have many distinct character profiles due to the fact that I like mixing, matching, male, female, and almost all types of roleplays. @_@ Yeah, I know...

But for here, I'll just list what I can think of. If you'd like to roleplay with any of them, just give me a holler (or pm, or whatever), and if I'm free I'll go for it.

Just...keep in mind that I can be a tad slow at replying. ;D

[Quirk]

Common Theme: Medieval/Fantasy
Name: Jack Sharpe

Gender: Male

Age: 19

Appearance: Frankly speaking, Jack is on his way to becoming a giant. Perhaps not in girth, but in terms of height he is hard to surpass. Standing tall at six feet and seven inches of lean-muscled and broad-shouldered human, he might be comparable to a somewhat limber stone wall, complete with a white smile that contrasts strikingly with a light sailor's tan. A pair of clean-cut scars runs on a slight tilt down his countenance from the left of his forehead, the lower scar disappearing somewhere around his eye and the upper fading away at the left line of his jaw. The area where the lower scar should cross his eye hidden is by a sloppily folded sash that serves as a diagonally drooping headband and eye patch, well secured at the back of his head with pins, knives, knots, and whatever else he has handy. He himself has never bothered to get a decent eye patch. Whether that eye is actually gone or not is a mystery to most. What lies beneath the dark green cloth is seldom shown, conceivably due to his ability to find amusement in other people's apparent interest or frustration with the concealment.

The other eye is unhidden, a soft shade hovering between blue and gray that damages the gaunt pirate-like effect of the rest of him.

Two small identical hoop earrings hang from Jack's right earlobe, twinkles of gold and minute red in his (poorly) self-hacked, wire-straight, black hair. His hair is partially tamed by the sash round his head, but most of it still maintains the tendency to stick out in sheaves a couple of inches in whichever direction it pleases. Other than the earrings, He adorns himself with a slender golden cross, letting it dangle out as a temptation to thieves in fouler violence-seeking moods and beside his heart at calmer times.

As rank, and occupation hamper the way to a decent tailor's measuring tape, most of the clothing Jack wears is loose, originally made for men much rounder than him. They were also made for men much richer than himself, and he flaunts the ornately garish colors with amusement at times, making a strange sight to behold. Beneath whatever else clothes him, he usually dons a high-necked shirt of black, tied firmly over faded tan breeches with a black cloth belt that lacks a buckle. A machete hangs at his left hip in a leather sheath, always honed to a sharp edge. At his waist also hangs another larger sheath from which the extremely battered hilt of a broadsword protrudes. One of the few garments that fit him properly are his dark boots, which are thoroughly scuffed and in need of a polish.
Although Jack's clothing was never meant to come into the hands of a criminal, he has customized them so that they may as well be. The cloth of his outfit masks hidden pockets and knife-holding straps; slim daggers dwell in a nearly invisible place near his ankles, and a thin, hidden, and hinged band of tungsten steel wraps around his neck, removable with a twist of a tiny knob that few are able to reach, compliments of his height and maneuverability.

Personality: Jack has approximately zero religious beliefs, excluding his favored Lady Luck. Rather, he scorns most religions with a rise of temper drawn from a deep well of memory. Being a seasoned vagabond and rogue, he is no stranger to obscene language, death, and in general, the world's vulgar side. From this he has drawn several important conclusions that have shaped to fit into his mental rules of conduct, among them being the abhorrence of loneliness and the lust for gold - or coinage, gems, and baubles of the sort. He has also learned the advantages of retaining a mild persona.

A rather distant character, Jack has a habit of staring off into the distance, lost in his thoughts. When prompted his adamance and vivacity are ignited, but on occasion he entirely forgets the use of words. However, when those rough edges are filed down a warmer side is found. Those he truly trusts he treats like a sibling, loyal but lightly stern.

Past: Jack is a seldom used name, rarely would a mother choose it for her son. Judging from his descent, "Jack" might not even be Jack's name. The truth of it is confined to his thoughts alone.

Before he acquired a knack and love of traveling, he had a past, just as every other does and every other creates. Born to a priest and nurse, Jack was a penniless but happy babe until his father was lynched during a raid for protecting his church. His mother died of a broken neck from a suicidal leap, leaving nothing but the earrings that she wore for her son. At the age of five, when he could just barely remember the ends of his parents?lives, he was taken in by an orphanage run by nuns. There, a kindly middle-aged woman by the name of Catherine mothered him for four years until she was knifed for the gold cross that always hung round her neck. A grief-stricken month passed and a murder took place within its lingering days; the killer of Sister Catherine was found on the thirty-first of January, a penknife in his Adam's apple. Jack left then with naught but an odd facial wound and the three pieces of jewelry worn by his former guardians.

Out on the road of life, the young boy traveled for a grand total of two weeks until one of the more kindly bands of highwaymen picked him up in an act of good cheer, taking well-timed pity on the nine-year-old who walked the dusty roads alone. Not having much choice or reason to reject the offer put upon him, Jack joined the group of outlaws and journeyed in a four-year zigzag to the southern coast of his country and left them there with several sad but ever-boisterous farewells.

Now at the beginning of an endless blue, he took on the salty life of an ocean-sprayed sailor. Never bothering to achieve a status anywhere near first or second mate, he settled for lookout, finding amusement in climbing rigging and spinning in the crow's nest on the whaling ship he harbored in. Later finding himself horrified and disgusted by the prospect of great bloody animals, the newly appointed sailor edged off the vessel a year after he had left land, wishing to never see the boat or its fresh cargo again. Jack stole around the city he had reached and took flight once more, heading vaguely in the direction of his birthplace. Attaining his destination by foot and several stolen mounts, he at last came home to {insert whatever city), slipping thoughtlessly into thievery to make a living.

-

Jack's scorn for religion was brought about by his life. His parents died by the way of throat and creed; he has no intention of going in the same manner. Of present, three things that symbolize this hang about his person:

a band of tungsten for the throat, hammered from a pampered horse's shoe to serve as protection,

a golden cross for the heart from Sister Catherine, an ironic message,

and a pair of golden hoop earrings, each with a single ruby set into its metal: for memory.

((A teensy bit over-dramatized...but it'll do. ))