Post by Olive on Mar 19, 2009 18:33:08 GMT -5
.xWanted Dead Or Alivex.
Paint your name in Blood
Name: Olive McQuiggin
Age: 19
Rank: Gunner
Personality: Olive is a lass who immediately comes off as cold as ice and heartless, for her face always fixated in a emotionless stare and she never speaks more then a couple of sentences- each word carefully mulled over before passing her lips. Which is, for the most part, true. Olive is quite content roaming the cobblestone streets for days or spending months on a ship with a rowdy crew as long as she has her musketoon by her side and a warm meal now and then. Without these two things, Olive would be nothing but an empty shell with no purpose.
However, just because the smell of gunpowder and food are the only things that can get visible excitement out of her, this doesn’t mean that she has no regard for other blokes what-so-ever. Olive has a strong sense of loyalty and family to her. Thus, meaning that if someone has earned her respect, she would do almost anything to ensure his or her safety. Mind you, her respect isn’t the kind that is obvious. She won’t offer hugs or words of encouragement. Instead, she sits on the sidelines and only offers assistance if desperately needed; she offers a shoulder and silence until the tears run dry, and she would be the one who would stand guard in during the night if she felt those who are dear to her were in danger.
History: Olive’s past is nothing too extravagant. She was born as the only child of her McQuiggin family, her mother too ill to leave bed and her father consumed with work to pay for the medication. This small reality of her existence had little effect on her, for this lifestyle was all that she knew. Perhaps this is why Olive joined her father in the craft of gun making when she was of age- the undetermined need to continue the pattern of the life that consumed her every day. Between helping her father at work and taking care of her mother’s health, Olive learned to give up things like playing with friends, finer clothing and food. As time went by, she also felt no need for excessive talking, thus, she grew quiet while her spirit grew strong.
It was when she was the age of sixteen that her life started to get into motion. Olive had a reputation in her father’s craft now. She would often get compliments at her fine detail and polite personality when dealing with customers. Although she didn’t care whether or not her work was liked, she would always feel a faint smile appear on her lips when she noticed her father’s chest swell from the corner of her eye. He was the only reason why she continued working so diligently. If she could only make her father smile for once a day, she could live a happy lifestyle. Unfortunately, that wish wouldn’t come true. It was a rainy day and Olive was tucked away in her bed with a cold when her father died. It seemed that one of the canons that he was crafting overheated during a test run and exploded, taking his life with it. Not that his death was anything surprising. Canons had a tendency to do so and they were both well aware of the risk with meddling with such things. Yet, Olive felt the weight of his absence all the same.
Since the accident, Olive started to wither away from depression. Her mother, whose death day was predicated to be at any moment, saw this disturbing shift in her daughter and sent her out of the house. “Leave my side and don’t return until you’ve conquered your demon.”
Being the kind of daughter that she was, Olive did nothing but that. It took her awhile to figure out how to feel comfortable with guns again- the town she was living was hardly the kind where swinging pistols were shot and dodging bullets was necessary. When near the docks, Olive discovered what she needed to do to fulfill her mother’s wishes: She had to join a ship. The glistening rows of canons on each side of the wooden vessel terrified her and empowered her at the same time. Slowly, she began to gain her courage back. She went from a terrified lass who couldn’t shoot an anchored barrel to a terrifying sea woman with an eye almost as sharp and accurate as any other gunner. Yet, this was still not enough. Although she had battled her demon, she still had yet to gain anything to prove her success. That’s when she heard whispers of RavenHeart’s treasure….
Thus, our little lass is looking for a ship that wishes to find the treasure as desperately as she does. Only then, would she be able to return home with her head held high.
Weapons: Innocence: Her musketoon she crafted with her father when she hit her peak of the business. She tampered with the rigging so that it can fire three shots until it needs to be reloaded. Most of it is polished metal except for the handle that that is wood. Carved into the wood is a carving of a little angel that is pressed into the palm of her hand when wielding the weapon.
Sinner: A simple dagger that is anything but high quality. Though well-kept, it is hardly used. It is usually looked upon with disgust because it was a sign that she failed to kill off her enemy with the weapon of her trade. In fact, she would rather try to hit the enemy in the face with the handle of her gun rather then take out her blade.
Part of crew or owner of the ship: Part of a crew…yet to have found one, however
Weapons/Powers: All she has is her skill and experience
Custom Title: none
Face Claim:
Family:
Father: Deceased
Mother: Assumed dead, however, Olive doesn’t wish to remove al doubt until she finds the treasure
Sample RP:
Deep green eyes strained in the shadow of night to read what was being written. Pressed against the wall of she ship, Olive tried her best to collect whatever moonlight that gleamed through her dirty window onto her blank page. Her writing appeared messy, the loops and dots drooping and rising with the waves as she tried her best to form sentences that actually appeared legible as possible. The letter to her mom was a pitiful sight to see. Ink spots decorated the page, covering from letters to full words, water got to the edges of the sheets, making the corners curl and tear easily. Many a times Olive almost gave into the temptation of crumpling up the whole attempt and tossing out the window. Yet, every time she was about to close her fist around the parchment, her heart would twinge and she found herself dipping the quill in the ink once more.
It wasn’t until the morning’s glow started to colour the sky that Olive stopped the etching sound of pen on paper. Cupping her chin in her hand, she sat curled in her hammock and watched the waves dance upon the horizon and felt the warmth of the day to come in her mind. She sat peacefully like that for a moment or two until rolling off of her netted bed and tucked her finished letter away with all the other ones just like it that she has refuse to send over the years. Wiping off the excess ink that covered her fingers onto her pants, she scurried upstairs as quietly as she could, not wanted to disturb the memorizing peace that surrounded her all morning.
A fellow crewmate found her a few minutes later cleaning the canon: a rag in one hand and repair tools by her side. “You’re either a fool or a better sea man then I. Did you not clean those yester mornin’?”
A silence filled the air before Olive spoke, her rhythmic polishing never hesitant as she thought over her words. “Aye, I did. However, the day I do not do them will be the day that a brother dies.” Her words were cool and sharp. A type of logic twisted in them that appeared menacing if not taken seriously. Taking a pause to look at the gent’s reaction, Olive noticed the small sense of fear that flickered in the corners of his eyes and she was satisfied. Giving a small nod, her crewmate left and Olive continued on with her repairs as if the conversation never happened. “There’s a screw loose here,” she tsked silently, “that won’t do.”
How did you find us: Another rpg site….I can’t recall which one at the moment
Password: Rum soaked
Paint your name in Blood
Name: Olive McQuiggin
Age: 19
Rank: Gunner
Personality: Olive is a lass who immediately comes off as cold as ice and heartless, for her face always fixated in a emotionless stare and she never speaks more then a couple of sentences- each word carefully mulled over before passing her lips. Which is, for the most part, true. Olive is quite content roaming the cobblestone streets for days or spending months on a ship with a rowdy crew as long as she has her musketoon by her side and a warm meal now and then. Without these two things, Olive would be nothing but an empty shell with no purpose.
However, just because the smell of gunpowder and food are the only things that can get visible excitement out of her, this doesn’t mean that she has no regard for other blokes what-so-ever. Olive has a strong sense of loyalty and family to her. Thus, meaning that if someone has earned her respect, she would do almost anything to ensure his or her safety. Mind you, her respect isn’t the kind that is obvious. She won’t offer hugs or words of encouragement. Instead, she sits on the sidelines and only offers assistance if desperately needed; she offers a shoulder and silence until the tears run dry, and she would be the one who would stand guard in during the night if she felt those who are dear to her were in danger.
History: Olive’s past is nothing too extravagant. She was born as the only child of her McQuiggin family, her mother too ill to leave bed and her father consumed with work to pay for the medication. This small reality of her existence had little effect on her, for this lifestyle was all that she knew. Perhaps this is why Olive joined her father in the craft of gun making when she was of age- the undetermined need to continue the pattern of the life that consumed her every day. Between helping her father at work and taking care of her mother’s health, Olive learned to give up things like playing with friends, finer clothing and food. As time went by, she also felt no need for excessive talking, thus, she grew quiet while her spirit grew strong.
It was when she was the age of sixteen that her life started to get into motion. Olive had a reputation in her father’s craft now. She would often get compliments at her fine detail and polite personality when dealing with customers. Although she didn’t care whether or not her work was liked, she would always feel a faint smile appear on her lips when she noticed her father’s chest swell from the corner of her eye. He was the only reason why she continued working so diligently. If she could only make her father smile for once a day, she could live a happy lifestyle. Unfortunately, that wish wouldn’t come true. It was a rainy day and Olive was tucked away in her bed with a cold when her father died. It seemed that one of the canons that he was crafting overheated during a test run and exploded, taking his life with it. Not that his death was anything surprising. Canons had a tendency to do so and they were both well aware of the risk with meddling with such things. Yet, Olive felt the weight of his absence all the same.
Since the accident, Olive started to wither away from depression. Her mother, whose death day was predicated to be at any moment, saw this disturbing shift in her daughter and sent her out of the house. “Leave my side and don’t return until you’ve conquered your demon.”
Being the kind of daughter that she was, Olive did nothing but that. It took her awhile to figure out how to feel comfortable with guns again- the town she was living was hardly the kind where swinging pistols were shot and dodging bullets was necessary. When near the docks, Olive discovered what she needed to do to fulfill her mother’s wishes: She had to join a ship. The glistening rows of canons on each side of the wooden vessel terrified her and empowered her at the same time. Slowly, she began to gain her courage back. She went from a terrified lass who couldn’t shoot an anchored barrel to a terrifying sea woman with an eye almost as sharp and accurate as any other gunner. Yet, this was still not enough. Although she had battled her demon, she still had yet to gain anything to prove her success. That’s when she heard whispers of RavenHeart’s treasure….
Thus, our little lass is looking for a ship that wishes to find the treasure as desperately as she does. Only then, would she be able to return home with her head held high.
Weapons: Innocence: Her musketoon she crafted with her father when she hit her peak of the business. She tampered with the rigging so that it can fire three shots until it needs to be reloaded. Most of it is polished metal except for the handle that that is wood. Carved into the wood is a carving of a little angel that is pressed into the palm of her hand when wielding the weapon.
Sinner: A simple dagger that is anything but high quality. Though well-kept, it is hardly used. It is usually looked upon with disgust because it was a sign that she failed to kill off her enemy with the weapon of her trade. In fact, she would rather try to hit the enemy in the face with the handle of her gun rather then take out her blade.
Part of crew or owner of the ship: Part of a crew…yet to have found one, however
Weapons/Powers: All she has is her skill and experience
Custom Title: none
Face Claim:
Amatsuki-KuchihaFamily:
Father: Deceased
Mother: Assumed dead, however, Olive doesn’t wish to remove al doubt until she finds the treasure
Sample RP:
Deep green eyes strained in the shadow of night to read what was being written. Pressed against the wall of she ship, Olive tried her best to collect whatever moonlight that gleamed through her dirty window onto her blank page. Her writing appeared messy, the loops and dots drooping and rising with the waves as she tried her best to form sentences that actually appeared legible as possible. The letter to her mom was a pitiful sight to see. Ink spots decorated the page, covering from letters to full words, water got to the edges of the sheets, making the corners curl and tear easily. Many a times Olive almost gave into the temptation of crumpling up the whole attempt and tossing out the window. Yet, every time she was about to close her fist around the parchment, her heart would twinge and she found herself dipping the quill in the ink once more.
It wasn’t until the morning’s glow started to colour the sky that Olive stopped the etching sound of pen on paper. Cupping her chin in her hand, she sat curled in her hammock and watched the waves dance upon the horizon and felt the warmth of the day to come in her mind. She sat peacefully like that for a moment or two until rolling off of her netted bed and tucked her finished letter away with all the other ones just like it that she has refuse to send over the years. Wiping off the excess ink that covered her fingers onto her pants, she scurried upstairs as quietly as she could, not wanted to disturb the memorizing peace that surrounded her all morning.
A fellow crewmate found her a few minutes later cleaning the canon: a rag in one hand and repair tools by her side. “You’re either a fool or a better sea man then I. Did you not clean those yester mornin’?”
A silence filled the air before Olive spoke, her rhythmic polishing never hesitant as she thought over her words. “Aye, I did. However, the day I do not do them will be the day that a brother dies.” Her words were cool and sharp. A type of logic twisted in them that appeared menacing if not taken seriously. Taking a pause to look at the gent’s reaction, Olive noticed the small sense of fear that flickered in the corners of his eyes and she was satisfied. Giving a small nod, her crewmate left and Olive continued on with her repairs as if the conversation never happened. “There’s a screw loose here,” she tsked silently, “that won’t do.”
How did you find us: Another rpg site….I can’t recall which one at the moment
Password: Rum soaked
