Difference between revisions of "Furze"
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| archetype = <!--character archetype--> | | archetype = <!--character archetype--> | ||
| − | | hair_colour = | + | | hair_colour = Aged Red <!--hair colour--> |
| − | | eye_colour = | + | | eye_colour = Black <!--eye colour--> |
| − | | height = | + | | height = 5'9 <!--height in feet and inches--> |
| − | | build = | + | | build = Stocky <!--build - slender/skinny/stocky/muscular/fat/etc--> |
| features = <!--notable features - tattoos/scars/birthmarks/mutations/etc--> | | features = <!--notable features - tattoos/scars/birthmarks/mutations/etc--> | ||
| birth_date = <!--date of birth--> | | birth_date = <!--date of birth--> | ||
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| children = | | children = | ||
| profession = <!--profession(s)--> | | profession = <!--profession(s)--> | ||
| − | | religion = | + | | religion = Unknown <!--espoused religion--> |
| image = | | image = | ||
}} | }} | ||
==Appearance== | ==Appearance== | ||
| + | You can tell that he did his best to blend in. A lot of what he wears, a lot of his appearance, does not look out of place. I have no questions that this is entirely his intent. At first glance he looks like any townsman, be he from the docks or the surrounding countryside. An average height, perhaps a little taller, but well within accepted ranges. Well-muscled with work, like a farmer or stevedore, and in fact this is what he told me he had been doing, paying for his passage about the Yards by means of ship-work when he wished to move docks. His hair is an odd sort of peppered red, and likely had been much brighter in his youth, before age had tempered it some; what beard he had was kept trimmed and sparse and was far more grey and white than colored. His skin is rough, darkened by the sun, but even so I got the impression that he would be several shades paler than most were he not at such hard work. His eyes are dark, so dark as to be almost black. | ||
| + | There are other things about him that caught my eye - or, rather, my ear - but his dress, though correct, is not entirely on the mark. I first met him on a unreasonably hot, summer's evening, in a crowded pub down on one of the docks. He wore no shoes, standing bare-footed in the rushes. Later, he reassured me that his shoes were quite safe, tucked out of sight near the grunged foyer under a multitude of coats. And though his own coat hung on the racks there, he still wore a fringed scarf around his neck. Neither had he removed his hat, a round and small-brimmed affair he called a ''bombin''. | ||
==Background== | ==Background== | ||
| − | + | ||
| + | What had initially attracted my attention was his accent. It was like nothing I had ever heard before, a sort of pastiche of harbor-slang and the accents of languages I recognized and some I did not. | ||
| + | |||
| + | |||
Latest revision as of 00:39, 25 July 2019
| Information | |
|---|---|
| Hair Colour | Aged Red |
| Eye Colour | Black |
| Height | 5'9 |
| Build | Stocky |
| Religion | Unknown |
Appearance
You can tell that he did his best to blend in. A lot of what he wears, a lot of his appearance, does not look out of place. I have no questions that this is entirely his intent. At first glance he looks like any townsman, be he from the docks or the surrounding countryside. An average height, perhaps a little taller, but well within accepted ranges. Well-muscled with work, like a farmer or stevedore, and in fact this is what he told me he had been doing, paying for his passage about the Yards by means of ship-work when he wished to move docks. His hair is an odd sort of peppered red, and likely had been much brighter in his youth, before age had tempered it some; what beard he had was kept trimmed and sparse and was far more grey and white than colored. His skin is rough, darkened by the sun, but even so I got the impression that he would be several shades paler than most were he not at such hard work. His eyes are dark, so dark as to be almost black.
There are other things about him that caught my eye - or, rather, my ear - but his dress, though correct, is not entirely on the mark. I first met him on a unreasonably hot, summer's evening, in a crowded pub down on one of the docks. He wore no shoes, standing bare-footed in the rushes. Later, he reassured me that his shoes were quite safe, tucked out of sight near the grunged foyer under a multitude of coats. And though his own coat hung on the racks there, he still wore a fringed scarf around his neck. Neither had he removed his hat, a round and small-brimmed affair he called a bombin.
Background
What had initially attracted my attention was his accent. It was like nothing I had ever heard before, a sort of pastiche of harbor-slang and the accents of languages I recognized and some I did not.
