Post by yhposolihp on Feb 10, 2011 18:22:48 GMT -5
-From the Diary of James "Jimmy" St. Bell-
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I never thought I'd see him again.
The elf, cloaked all over in red, brought with him flashbacks of years gone by. We stood there a moment, not quite recognizing each other at first due to the darkness all around and years of turmoil aging our faces some. Shadows bounced off of his face from the dim light emanating from the dying torch on the cold, stone wall mixed with the concealment of the red hood hiding the top half of his head, and although his was hidden under it, I knew it was him even after all these years. Only he would carry the red cloak like the burden that it had brought him - brought us - after all that had happened as a result of it. It was just like him to do such a thing; just as I'd remembered him.
“Help you?”
His gruff voice spoke sternly, his eyes shooting a look of warning my way as if the rattling the tail of a snake. My eyes shot down instinctively to see him already grasping the hilt of a long, slender blade sheathed at his side. That was a pretty clear indication to me that while I recognized him in the dim light, under a red-dyed hood, the same couldn’t be said about me. He’d once told me that humans, though coming in all shapes and sizes, looked all the same in his eyes barring any sort of glaring features that might set them apart from a crowd. I’d forgotten that statement up until that very moment, but the situation of hostility helped jog my memory.
“I can only think of one person that would wear something like that in a place like this,” I spoke as straightforward as possible, trying not to place too friendly of a tone in my voice as to avoid raising suspicion from the skeptical elf, before changing my tone to a more familiar one. “Honestly, I’m offended that you don’t recognize me! After all of those times I saved your skin in Tethyr, you’d think I would have left a bit of an impact.”
This jogged his memory. He replaced his hand away from the blade and folded both arms across his chest. His disposition more relaxed now, I saw his head tilt to one side as he gave a small chuckle that caused his shoulders and chest to jolt slightly. Good news.
“Jimmy, I always took you for someone that likes to stretch the truth every now and then, but outright lying? To my face? Looks like you’re not the only one here that should be offended.”
“Then we’re even again,” I replied smarmily, mostly relieved to know that I wasn’t about to have a four-and-a-half-foot long piece of steel lodged into my gullet any time in the near future. “Next time I tell a lie to you, I’ll be sure to do it when your back’s turned.”
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History
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Despite carrying a lot of roguish personality traits with him to this day, James St. Bell openly admits that it's a life that he has left behind. He hails from Tethyr (so he claims), where he acted as a hired-sword for some and a sticky-finger for himself. One thing did eventually lead to another, though, as events caught up with James; not necessarily with the law, but with his own moral conscience. While how he did not regret on any decision he had made on his own, acts that he had accepted coin for led him to seek redemption. Feeling as though any peaceful god of Faerun wouldn't turn a blind eye to him, he sought a more militant god for forgiveness (although when usually approached, he would only say it is "someone you probably haven't heard of.") [Note: this is a deity selectable from the list on non-Faerunian gods at the outset of the game. I'm currently at work typing this up and, embarrassingly, I've forgotten the name.
I'll edit this with the name when I get home]. Whether he has received his forgiveness or not, James is able to draw blessing from who he worships to aid him in battle, both quenching his thirst for adventure and pleasing who he worships in the heat of combat. Today, he travels as a mercenary, and has reached Cormyr's town of Greatgaunt in his journeys. A chance encounter with an old "friend" of his is causing him to stay a little longer than he had anticipated, however.
Appearance
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James stands at just about 6'1" off of the ground, weighing in at a good 180 lbs. His blond hair is just long enough to cover a good portion of his brow, but kept enough as to not be a distraction. He's got strong features with a bit of a boyish face; wide, brown eyes and a smirking mouth compliment his defined jaw and developed structure. While certainly a good-looking man by any account and having a very social personality, he's got a bit of an arrogant, sarcastic air about him along with a sense of impatient straightforwardness that can be a turn-off for some people.
[Will be edited as the character develops]
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I never thought I'd see him again.
The elf, cloaked all over in red, brought with him flashbacks of years gone by. We stood there a moment, not quite recognizing each other at first due to the darkness all around and years of turmoil aging our faces some. Shadows bounced off of his face from the dim light emanating from the dying torch on the cold, stone wall mixed with the concealment of the red hood hiding the top half of his head, and although his was hidden under it, I knew it was him even after all these years. Only he would carry the red cloak like the burden that it had brought him - brought us - after all that had happened as a result of it. It was just like him to do such a thing; just as I'd remembered him.
“Help you?”
His gruff voice spoke sternly, his eyes shooting a look of warning my way as if the rattling the tail of a snake. My eyes shot down instinctively to see him already grasping the hilt of a long, slender blade sheathed at his side. That was a pretty clear indication to me that while I recognized him in the dim light, under a red-dyed hood, the same couldn’t be said about me. He’d once told me that humans, though coming in all shapes and sizes, looked all the same in his eyes barring any sort of glaring features that might set them apart from a crowd. I’d forgotten that statement up until that very moment, but the situation of hostility helped jog my memory.
“I can only think of one person that would wear something like that in a place like this,” I spoke as straightforward as possible, trying not to place too friendly of a tone in my voice as to avoid raising suspicion from the skeptical elf, before changing my tone to a more familiar one. “Honestly, I’m offended that you don’t recognize me! After all of those times I saved your skin in Tethyr, you’d think I would have left a bit of an impact.”
This jogged his memory. He replaced his hand away from the blade and folded both arms across his chest. His disposition more relaxed now, I saw his head tilt to one side as he gave a small chuckle that caused his shoulders and chest to jolt slightly. Good news.
“Jimmy, I always took you for someone that likes to stretch the truth every now and then, but outright lying? To my face? Looks like you’re not the only one here that should be offended.”
“Then we’re even again,” I replied smarmily, mostly relieved to know that I wasn’t about to have a four-and-a-half-foot long piece of steel lodged into my gullet any time in the near future. “Next time I tell a lie to you, I’ll be sure to do it when your back’s turned.”
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History
---------
Despite carrying a lot of roguish personality traits with him to this day, James St. Bell openly admits that it's a life that he has left behind. He hails from Tethyr (so he claims), where he acted as a hired-sword for some and a sticky-finger for himself. One thing did eventually lead to another, though, as events caught up with James; not necessarily with the law, but with his own moral conscience. While how he did not regret on any decision he had made on his own, acts that he had accepted coin for led him to seek redemption. Feeling as though any peaceful god of Faerun wouldn't turn a blind eye to him, he sought a more militant god for forgiveness (although when usually approached, he would only say it is "someone you probably haven't heard of.") [Note: this is a deity selectable from the list on non-Faerunian gods at the outset of the game. I'm currently at work typing this up and, embarrassingly, I've forgotten the name.
I'll edit this with the name when I get home]. Whether he has received his forgiveness or not, James is able to draw blessing from who he worships to aid him in battle, both quenching his thirst for adventure and pleasing who he worships in the heat of combat. Today, he travels as a mercenary, and has reached Cormyr's town of Greatgaunt in his journeys. A chance encounter with an old "friend" of his is causing him to stay a little longer than he had anticipated, however.Appearance
---------------
James stands at just about 6'1" off of the ground, weighing in at a good 180 lbs. His blond hair is just long enough to cover a good portion of his brow, but kept enough as to not be a distraction. He's got strong features with a bit of a boyish face; wide, brown eyes and a smirking mouth compliment his defined jaw and developed structure. While certainly a good-looking man by any account and having a very social personality, he's got a bit of an arrogant, sarcastic air about him along with a sense of impatient straightforwardness that can be a turn-off for some people.
[Will be edited as the character develops]
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