Davenport
10-11-11, 03:15 AM
Name – Richard Davenport
Age – 29
Gender – Male
Height – 6’ 3”
Weight – 185 lbs
Eyes – brown
Hair – almost black
Occupation – nothing
Language – common
Personality – He’ll never hurt an animal he isn’t going to eat, unless it is life or death. Humans are different; he doesn’t care about hurting them. Stealing to get what he needs has become commonplace. Remorse isn’t something he tends to feel, but he’ll pretend if it makes you feel better. Due to a somewhat fuzzy memory, he doesn’t remember if he likes certain countries or people or not, doesn’t matter in the end though. Fighting isn’t his thing, or at least he doesn’t think it was (is), but what he does remember is a little training at least.
He’s got a type of retrograde amnesia, but it isn’t everything that he can’t seem to remember. Richard can’t figure out why he knows what he does, but can’t remember where he was before he woke up. His personality has been affected in an odd way. It could be that if he took a blow to the head it caused his outlook to change, but it could as easily be just that he was carefree about everything in life since his old life. Who knows?
Appearance – He’s not a big guy, he’s not particularly muscular and the picture of marble statue, he’s really not even that impressive or outstanding in any way. Most people wouldn’t guess he was in his later 20’s, but people normally don’t have much of a reason to wonder about it either. His hair is mostly straight, but likes to do whatever it wants and is about down to his ears. His face is average, except for an angular nose and sharp eyes. He wears a white blouse with almost foppish sleeves, a tight brown sleeveless leather vest, and a pair of tight white wool pants tucked into worn brown leather boots (strapped halfway up the shin). He has a belt holding up his pants as well as his sheathes and small bags.
Skills –
He can cook pretty well, but it’s more or less simple foods.
He can use a bow and arrow rather well. He doesn’t know why he knows how to use them, just remembers the proper function.
A short sword and bucklers flitter in the back of his mind, perhaps it was something he trained with or saw a lot, he can’t remember. Either way, there is a little skill with the two.
Knives have always been his best friend – at least since the start of his new memories. He can use them to an extent, but uses them most for cooking purposes. If necessary, a chef or butchers knife could of course be pretty damned intimidating.
Abilities –
Lack thereof, no abilities to speak of.
Equipment –
A dagger that’s pretty worn, made of steel with a horn handle. It was on his person when he woke up. Worth about 5 gold to a blind merchant.
His clothing, including his light leather vest which in some way could possibly be considered a really pathetic form of armor? Not really worth much, altogether maybe 10 gold if he needed that and didn't mind being naked.
History –
It is kinda hard for me to really vest any truth to questions about my past. Honestly, I don’t know what happened or where I’m from. As far as I know this is the first day of my life, but without that gross birthing mess or screaming children. For that matter, without anything attributed to hospitals and celebrations. The first day of my life is pretty bad. I can tell you one thing though; waking up with a splitting headache that could make a charging warhorse stop in his tracks is the worst! Well, second worst. The fact that I was laying on a scummy stone floor, the scent of decaying fish coming through the window, and a rat staring at me… that is the worst to wake up to.
Who am I? No. Really. Who am I, do you have any clue? I have no clue, and for whatever reason I feel like I’ve done something wrong, but sitting up and calling for a guard to find out… the thought of it makes me want to throw up. If I could just get the sun out of my eyes without having to move that would be – oh, look at that, a nice cloud to slowly drift across the sky. Maybe my day is starting to look up?
“Is this the one?” To open my eyes and find out what assumingly illiterate and thoroughly pathetic piece of society said that or not? He sounded big, and close, but the light just left and the darkness behind my eyelids is so nice. Just five more minutes mother, I promise I will be up in five more minutes. Do we have any milk? I would like eggs for breakfast. “You. Stop sleeping you bastard, I know you’re awake.”
How could he tell! I thought I was doing so well too.
“Yes?” Unassuming, demure, perhaps even a slightly suggestive undertone to tickle his fancy. Maybe that will make him not want to bother me anymore. Perhaps that could be the key to answers. Play it cool, calm, collected. “Since yer here, and I really really didn’t want to get up anyway. What’s going on? Why am I lying on this fetid floor and would you mind telling me my name?”
“Dick, if you don’t get up in two seconds I’m going to bust you up worse than when we found you.” Dick, perhaps a colloquial insult to further reduce my already shattered resolve (woe is me!), or my name. I doubt it is my name, that seems obvious. However, my resolve is hardly shattered, I am actually far more curious than anything. Richard, that’s what Dick is a shortened version of right? My name therefore must be Richard. “One…”
“Please don’t use up all of the numbers you can count to just for little ol’ me.” Sarcasm was as prevalent on my tongue as sweat stains under the guard’s armpits. It was a disgusting sight, but somehow it just fit in so well with my surroundings and his overweight figure. If one could paint a picture that encompassed the grime of a city, added in a dash of mistreatment of its citizens, a hint of a poor man’s misfortune, and do it all as shit faced as possible they would arrive at a perfect representation of my exact situation… (T.B.C.)
Age – 29
Gender – Male
Height – 6’ 3”
Weight – 185 lbs
Eyes – brown
Hair – almost black
Occupation – nothing
Language – common
Personality – He’ll never hurt an animal he isn’t going to eat, unless it is life or death. Humans are different; he doesn’t care about hurting them. Stealing to get what he needs has become commonplace. Remorse isn’t something he tends to feel, but he’ll pretend if it makes you feel better. Due to a somewhat fuzzy memory, he doesn’t remember if he likes certain countries or people or not, doesn’t matter in the end though. Fighting isn’t his thing, or at least he doesn’t think it was (is), but what he does remember is a little training at least.
He’s got a type of retrograde amnesia, but it isn’t everything that he can’t seem to remember. Richard can’t figure out why he knows what he does, but can’t remember where he was before he woke up. His personality has been affected in an odd way. It could be that if he took a blow to the head it caused his outlook to change, but it could as easily be just that he was carefree about everything in life since his old life. Who knows?
Appearance – He’s not a big guy, he’s not particularly muscular and the picture of marble statue, he’s really not even that impressive or outstanding in any way. Most people wouldn’t guess he was in his later 20’s, but people normally don’t have much of a reason to wonder about it either. His hair is mostly straight, but likes to do whatever it wants and is about down to his ears. His face is average, except for an angular nose and sharp eyes. He wears a white blouse with almost foppish sleeves, a tight brown sleeveless leather vest, and a pair of tight white wool pants tucked into worn brown leather boots (strapped halfway up the shin). He has a belt holding up his pants as well as his sheathes and small bags.
Skills –
He can cook pretty well, but it’s more or less simple foods.
He can use a bow and arrow rather well. He doesn’t know why he knows how to use them, just remembers the proper function.
A short sword and bucklers flitter in the back of his mind, perhaps it was something he trained with or saw a lot, he can’t remember. Either way, there is a little skill with the two.
Knives have always been his best friend – at least since the start of his new memories. He can use them to an extent, but uses them most for cooking purposes. If necessary, a chef or butchers knife could of course be pretty damned intimidating.
Abilities –
Lack thereof, no abilities to speak of.
Equipment –
A dagger that’s pretty worn, made of steel with a horn handle. It was on his person when he woke up. Worth about 5 gold to a blind merchant.
His clothing, including his light leather vest which in some way could possibly be considered a really pathetic form of armor? Not really worth much, altogether maybe 10 gold if he needed that and didn't mind being naked.
History –
It is kinda hard for me to really vest any truth to questions about my past. Honestly, I don’t know what happened or where I’m from. As far as I know this is the first day of my life, but without that gross birthing mess or screaming children. For that matter, without anything attributed to hospitals and celebrations. The first day of my life is pretty bad. I can tell you one thing though; waking up with a splitting headache that could make a charging warhorse stop in his tracks is the worst! Well, second worst. The fact that I was laying on a scummy stone floor, the scent of decaying fish coming through the window, and a rat staring at me… that is the worst to wake up to.
Who am I? No. Really. Who am I, do you have any clue? I have no clue, and for whatever reason I feel like I’ve done something wrong, but sitting up and calling for a guard to find out… the thought of it makes me want to throw up. If I could just get the sun out of my eyes without having to move that would be – oh, look at that, a nice cloud to slowly drift across the sky. Maybe my day is starting to look up?
“Is this the one?” To open my eyes and find out what assumingly illiterate and thoroughly pathetic piece of society said that or not? He sounded big, and close, but the light just left and the darkness behind my eyelids is so nice. Just five more minutes mother, I promise I will be up in five more minutes. Do we have any milk? I would like eggs for breakfast. “You. Stop sleeping you bastard, I know you’re awake.”
How could he tell! I thought I was doing so well too.
“Yes?” Unassuming, demure, perhaps even a slightly suggestive undertone to tickle his fancy. Maybe that will make him not want to bother me anymore. Perhaps that could be the key to answers. Play it cool, calm, collected. “Since yer here, and I really really didn’t want to get up anyway. What’s going on? Why am I lying on this fetid floor and would you mind telling me my name?”
“Dick, if you don’t get up in two seconds I’m going to bust you up worse than when we found you.” Dick, perhaps a colloquial insult to further reduce my already shattered resolve (woe is me!), or my name. I doubt it is my name, that seems obvious. However, my resolve is hardly shattered, I am actually far more curious than anything. Richard, that’s what Dick is a shortened version of right? My name therefore must be Richard. “One…”
“Please don’t use up all of the numbers you can count to just for little ol’ me.” Sarcasm was as prevalent on my tongue as sweat stains under the guard’s armpits. It was a disgusting sight, but somehow it just fit in so well with my surroundings and his overweight figure. If one could paint a picture that encompassed the grime of a city, added in a dash of mistreatment of its citizens, a hint of a poor man’s misfortune, and do it all as shit faced as possible they would arrive at a perfect representation of my exact situation… (T.B.C.)