Post by ~~*Buffy Bloom*~~ on Jan 18, 2007 20:57:59 GMT
Name: Rory Doran
Date of Birth and Age: 23/03/1638 Thirty-six
Nationality: Irish
Occupation/Status: Pirate Captain
Appearance: Colin Farrell
Rory has deep, dark eyes and has a robust figure. He’s tall and has shoulder-length brown hair and his skin is tanned from gallivanting in the sun. His facial hair adds to his rough, rugged yet so very handsome looks.
Personality: Rory is as rough as he looks. He tends to lack any impulse and would rather sit back and put his feet up. Procrastination is more than likely and he certainly likes his whiskey and fags. Drinks and punches all around, he hasn’t really grasped the idea of etiquette and enjoys his freedom. The only gentleman-like quality he has is that he is a gentleman o’ fortune.
History: Rory grew up in Charleville in the north of County Cork, in the province of Munster. His father Niall took part in the Irish Rebellion of 1641, more so against the colonisation of the country rather than religious beliefs. During the war in which Oliver Cromwell’s New Model Army defeated the Irish, Niall also perished. He was fifteen when civil war ended in Ireland, which has started when he was but three years old. It had resulted in the deaths of thousands of people and permanent exile for others...including Rory. Even after King Charles II’s efforts to conciliate the Irish Catholics with compensation and land grants, Rory did not return to Ireland, after having rebelled against government and monarchy, he was deemed an outlaw. And so his sea faring life began...
Roleplay sample: Rory was sat in Rye Tavern and nodded to the bartender as he received a frothy pint. “Cheers mate...” he took a large gulp and glanced out the window. The sun was high in the sky and the gusts were fairly strong, he set down his mug of beer and reached into his pocket to take out a cigarette, which he popped into his mouth and lit. Looking out again, this time his eyebrows didn’t just furrow due to the brightness of the sun...he stood up and walked onto the cobble path outside that led to the harbour. Squinting for a moment, he held his cigarette between his thumb and index finger and took a drag before realisation sunk in and he threw it to the ground and ran into a sprint, “Jaysus! She took me bl**din’ ship!”
Image:
Date of Birth and Age: 23/03/1638 Thirty-six
Nationality: Irish
Occupation/Status: Pirate Captain
Appearance: Colin Farrell
Rory has deep, dark eyes and has a robust figure. He’s tall and has shoulder-length brown hair and his skin is tanned from gallivanting in the sun. His facial hair adds to his rough, rugged yet so very handsome looks.
Personality: Rory is as rough as he looks. He tends to lack any impulse and would rather sit back and put his feet up. Procrastination is more than likely and he certainly likes his whiskey and fags. Drinks and punches all around, he hasn’t really grasped the idea of etiquette and enjoys his freedom. The only gentleman-like quality he has is that he is a gentleman o’ fortune.
History: Rory grew up in Charleville in the north of County Cork, in the province of Munster. His father Niall took part in the Irish Rebellion of 1641, more so against the colonisation of the country rather than religious beliefs. During the war in which Oliver Cromwell’s New Model Army defeated the Irish, Niall also perished. He was fifteen when civil war ended in Ireland, which has started when he was but three years old. It had resulted in the deaths of thousands of people and permanent exile for others...including Rory. Even after King Charles II’s efforts to conciliate the Irish Catholics with compensation and land grants, Rory did not return to Ireland, after having rebelled against government and monarchy, he was deemed an outlaw. And so his sea faring life began...
Roleplay sample: Rory was sat in Rye Tavern and nodded to the bartender as he received a frothy pint. “Cheers mate...” he took a large gulp and glanced out the window. The sun was high in the sky and the gusts were fairly strong, he set down his mug of beer and reached into his pocket to take out a cigarette, which he popped into his mouth and lit. Looking out again, this time his eyebrows didn’t just furrow due to the brightness of the sun...he stood up and walked onto the cobble path outside that led to the harbour. Squinting for a moment, he held his cigarette between his thumb and index finger and took a drag before realisation sunk in and he threw it to the ground and ran into a sprint, “Jaysus! She took me bl**din’ ship!”
Image: