Post by azmoham on Apr 17, 2020 11:55:43 GMT -8
Bartholomew Bentham Crocker
Resolve level: 0
-Appearance
Age: 33
Sex: Male
Physical Description:
Around five feet, five inches tall, weighing around 160 pounds or so, with ruddy, weather-beaten skin turned a brownish tan from years in the sun. His face is squat and sharp, with a square chin and angular cheekbones beneath his squinty, blue-grey eyes. He has dark chair that has been hacked off roughly just a couple inches above his chin and a swathe of dark stubble seems to perpetually carpet his face. He has thick eyebrows and sideburns, and a long jagged scar traces its way across one cheek, skips across his eye socket and continues up the middle of his forehead. His nose is large and crooked, bending haphazardly to the left after being broken and set many-a-time. He is well-muscled, and his body is criss-crossed with half-a-dozen scars. His hands are thickly calloused and his fingers are thick and strong.
Attire:
Bart, as he prefers to be known, typically wears a rough-spun tunic dyed dark red along with simple cloth paths of a drab greenish olive color tucked in calf-high leather boots. Typically he also wears a short (elbow length) mantle with a hood made of a thick cloth. On one hip he carries a chipped short-sword as well as a simple cudgel, and on the other hangs a battered flintlock pistol. In colder times he also wears thick leather gloves that go half-way up his forearm and flair out and the end.
-Biography
Quirks:
Mankind Hater+ “Who cares about the bleedin’ villagers? To Hell wit’ th’ lot o’ em’!”
On Guard+ One must always watch their back in a town full of monsters.
Hamlet Native(Bartholomew takes 10% less stress and deals 5% more damage while inside the town and takes 10% MORE stress and deals 5% LESS damage while outside of it)+- “I know these streets like the back o’ my hand!”
Fear of Unholy- ”I ain’t one for churchin’, but I know there’s things we’re not meant to screw wit’”
Mercurial- Frequent drunkenness and the hardships of everyday life here combine to make this man rather...temperamental.
Tippler- ”Rather a bottle in front o’ me than a frontal lobotomy!”
Backstory Synopsis:
Bartholomew Bentham Crocker was born in the Hamlet, his life was unremarkable for his surroundings, raised by two poor peasants who toiled for their lord, the illustrious owned of the grand estate on which they eaked out a meager existence. He played and tumbled and fought (especially fought) with the other children of The Hamlet, flitting ignorantly through the darkness which grew to consume and hang over their home like a funeral shroud. AS he grew older his propensity for women and wine and cards increased but his means did not, and so he sought out what he thought would be a fitting employment: enlisting in the watch. It was a simple job at first, cuffing the vagabonds he had once roamed with on the ear when they were caught stealing, shooing beggars away from the ‘respectable’ part of town, listening to the dull villagers moan about their dull neighbors and all their supposed offenses. Things changed with the opening of the road, the return of the Heir to claim his glorious property, and the hoard of mercenaries he dragged with him to do the job. Half of them were insane to start, the other half got their pretty quick on their own by Bart’s reckoning, and he watched as band after band of clueless blue-bloods and greenhorns and soldiers of all stripes came marching in and throwing themselves heedlessly into the maw of the great murk that encircled them. He saw them come shambling back in, typically a few men, and a few limbs, shorter, gibbering madly and crying for their mothers, begging for death. All he could do was drink and watch and be thankful, thankful it wasn’t him going into those dank abysses which lay on the outskirts of town...
Full Backstory:
Misc. Notes: (Special items, notable scars, scents, how they walk, or talk, etc.)
-Skills & Equipment
Weapons: A simple wooden cudgel, a chipped (though still sharp) short-sword, an unreliable flintlock pistol.
Armor: (Rarely worn) A simple metal skullcap with a nose-ridge, thick leather gloves, a thick leather shirt, a well-worn gambeson.
Other gear: A lantern, a whistle, a map of The Hamlet, a drinking flask, a clay pipe, flint-and-steel.
Strengths: Bartholmew knows the town very well and can reliably find his way from any point in the Hamlet to any other point, even in the dark of night. He is a reasonably competent fighter, and not prone to panicking.
Weaknesses: Bartholomew is selfish and won’t fight unless he sees a direct benefit or a strong need to. He is rather apathetic to the actual town and especially the mercenaries, and so doesn’t try to do his job very well, and spends more time drinking, smoking and whoring than he does on patrol.
Resolve level: 0
-Appearance
Age: 33
Sex: Male
Physical Description:
Around five feet, five inches tall, weighing around 160 pounds or so, with ruddy, weather-beaten skin turned a brownish tan from years in the sun. His face is squat and sharp, with a square chin and angular cheekbones beneath his squinty, blue-grey eyes. He has dark chair that has been hacked off roughly just a couple inches above his chin and a swathe of dark stubble seems to perpetually carpet his face. He has thick eyebrows and sideburns, and a long jagged scar traces its way across one cheek, skips across his eye socket and continues up the middle of his forehead. His nose is large and crooked, bending haphazardly to the left after being broken and set many-a-time. He is well-muscled, and his body is criss-crossed with half-a-dozen scars. His hands are thickly calloused and his fingers are thick and strong.
Attire:
Bart, as he prefers to be known, typically wears a rough-spun tunic dyed dark red along with simple cloth paths of a drab greenish olive color tucked in calf-high leather boots. Typically he also wears a short (elbow length) mantle with a hood made of a thick cloth. On one hip he carries a chipped short-sword as well as a simple cudgel, and on the other hangs a battered flintlock pistol. In colder times he also wears thick leather gloves that go half-way up his forearm and flair out and the end.
-Biography
Quirks:
Mankind Hater+ “Who cares about the bleedin’ villagers? To Hell wit’ th’ lot o’ em’!”
On Guard+ One must always watch their back in a town full of monsters.
Hamlet Native(Bartholomew takes 10% less stress and deals 5% more damage while inside the town and takes 10% MORE stress and deals 5% LESS damage while outside of it)+- “I know these streets like the back o’ my hand!”
Fear of Unholy- ”I ain’t one for churchin’, but I know there’s things we’re not meant to screw wit’”
Mercurial- Frequent drunkenness and the hardships of everyday life here combine to make this man rather...temperamental.
Tippler- ”Rather a bottle in front o’ me than a frontal lobotomy!”
Backstory Synopsis:
Bartholomew Bentham Crocker was born in the Hamlet, his life was unremarkable for his surroundings, raised by two poor peasants who toiled for their lord, the illustrious owned of the grand estate on which they eaked out a meager existence. He played and tumbled and fought (especially fought) with the other children of The Hamlet, flitting ignorantly through the darkness which grew to consume and hang over their home like a funeral shroud. AS he grew older his propensity for women and wine and cards increased but his means did not, and so he sought out what he thought would be a fitting employment: enlisting in the watch. It was a simple job at first, cuffing the vagabonds he had once roamed with on the ear when they were caught stealing, shooing beggars away from the ‘respectable’ part of town, listening to the dull villagers moan about their dull neighbors and all their supposed offenses. Things changed with the opening of the road, the return of the Heir to claim his glorious property, and the hoard of mercenaries he dragged with him to do the job. Half of them were insane to start, the other half got their pretty quick on their own by Bart’s reckoning, and he watched as band after band of clueless blue-bloods and greenhorns and soldiers of all stripes came marching in and throwing themselves heedlessly into the maw of the great murk that encircled them. He saw them come shambling back in, typically a few men, and a few limbs, shorter, gibbering madly and crying for their mothers, begging for death. All he could do was drink and watch and be thankful, thankful it wasn’t him going into those dank abysses which lay on the outskirts of town...
Full Backstory:
Misc. Notes: (Special items, notable scars, scents, how they walk, or talk, etc.)
-Skills & Equipment
Weapons: A simple wooden cudgel, a chipped (though still sharp) short-sword, an unreliable flintlock pistol.
Armor: (Rarely worn) A simple metal skullcap with a nose-ridge, thick leather gloves, a thick leather shirt, a well-worn gambeson.
Other gear: A lantern, a whistle, a map of The Hamlet, a drinking flask, a clay pipe, flint-and-steel.
Strengths: Bartholmew knows the town very well and can reliably find his way from any point in the Hamlet to any other point, even in the dark of night. He is a reasonably competent fighter, and not prone to panicking.
Weaknesses: Bartholomew is selfish and won’t fight unless he sees a direct benefit or a strong need to. He is rather apathetic to the actual town and especially the mercenaries, and so doesn’t try to do his job very well, and spends more time drinking, smoking and whoring than he does on patrol.
