Post by elysiumfields on Mar 1, 2011 0:16:37 GMT -5
Several years back a Schooner, Tymora's Purse trading goods out of Mulmaster, was waylaid by a pirate Sloop; Beshaba's Bobblers.
The ship was undoubtedly lost but one man fought to protect his Captain from certain death. It was Henry Cockburn, a young ship hand who fought with cunning skill and stylish repose against a ruffain horde of burly cut throats. The pirate Captain boarded, having been impressed by his show of defiance, having watched him skewer four salt stained scurvy dogs and offered to spare his life should he use those skills under her service and command.
Now, a life on board ship of ill repute is always preferable to spending the rest of your days underwater and sinking fast and the choice was easily made. One can escape a boat given the right circumstance, though escaping tea and biscuits with Tymora is an entirely different prospect.
His surname, as comical as it may appear is pronounced Coburn. The nickname, Cock, used by his Captain from that day is in reference to how he signed his name into her service.
The young fellow proved to be hard working and charismatic and adjusted to the life of a buccaneer with considerable ease. Instead of looking for a way to escape, the thrill of life on board Beshaba's Bobblers caught his fancy and he decided it was the life for him.
Used to talking the garters from the stockings of honest women in any given port, Henry applied his vocal temerity in the skills of high seas diplomacy... with the aid of a rapier and several large, brutish deck hands, naturally.
After proving himself time and time again by rapier and persuasion in her service, he became the Captain's right hand man, ensuring her will be done by whatever means seen fit at the time of choosing.
Why he is land locked and not taking plunder and parting captains from bullion is as big a mystery as to why he isn't disguising his obvious trade. This, dear reader, is what we shall find out elsewhere in time, though I am sure an account of deeds done will appear here in good time as he progresses in the land of Cormyr.
Standing at a fairly average five feet eleven, the man before you cuts a stylish pose.
His clothes are loose and casual, clearly in the style of a man used to life at sea. His leather boots have a permanent salt stain about them turning the deep black leather a grimy grey in places. Two pendants hang from a silver roped chain. One clearly that of Tymora and the other, should it be recognised, is that of Valkur.
His shiny black hair is swept back into a nonchalant pony tail that lets the occasional straggling lock fall free to hang at his face like a black rope hanging from a mast.
The man's voice is approaching deep and is gravelled by years of laughing in the face of tempests and rough storm breakers. His laugh cuts through the air like a lewd and suggestive look and the smile and knowing gaze of grey blue eyes that accompany it do nothing to dampen its lilting appeal.
The man certainly has a swagger in his stride and as he leans on whatever is close enough to support his weighht you get a feeling that gambling with him might not be the most profitable endeavour.
The particulars:
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 155lbs
Hair: black
Eyes: light watery blue
Age: mid to late 20's, though a life at sea with an unforgiving sea may add to his true age.
The ship was undoubtedly lost but one man fought to protect his Captain from certain death. It was Henry Cockburn, a young ship hand who fought with cunning skill and stylish repose against a ruffain horde of burly cut throats. The pirate Captain boarded, having been impressed by his show of defiance, having watched him skewer four salt stained scurvy dogs and offered to spare his life should he use those skills under her service and command.
Now, a life on board ship of ill repute is always preferable to spending the rest of your days underwater and sinking fast and the choice was easily made. One can escape a boat given the right circumstance, though escaping tea and biscuits with Tymora is an entirely different prospect.
His surname, as comical as it may appear is pronounced Coburn. The nickname, Cock, used by his Captain from that day is in reference to how he signed his name into her service.
The young fellow proved to be hard working and charismatic and adjusted to the life of a buccaneer with considerable ease. Instead of looking for a way to escape, the thrill of life on board Beshaba's Bobblers caught his fancy and he decided it was the life for him.
Used to talking the garters from the stockings of honest women in any given port, Henry applied his vocal temerity in the skills of high seas diplomacy... with the aid of a rapier and several large, brutish deck hands, naturally.
After proving himself time and time again by rapier and persuasion in her service, he became the Captain's right hand man, ensuring her will be done by whatever means seen fit at the time of choosing.
Why he is land locked and not taking plunder and parting captains from bullion is as big a mystery as to why he isn't disguising his obvious trade. This, dear reader, is what we shall find out elsewhere in time, though I am sure an account of deeds done will appear here in good time as he progresses in the land of Cormyr.
Standing at a fairly average five feet eleven, the man before you cuts a stylish pose.
His clothes are loose and casual, clearly in the style of a man used to life at sea. His leather boots have a permanent salt stain about them turning the deep black leather a grimy grey in places. Two pendants hang from a silver roped chain. One clearly that of Tymora and the other, should it be recognised, is that of Valkur.
His shiny black hair is swept back into a nonchalant pony tail that lets the occasional straggling lock fall free to hang at his face like a black rope hanging from a mast.
The man's voice is approaching deep and is gravelled by years of laughing in the face of tempests and rough storm breakers. His laugh cuts through the air like a lewd and suggestive look and the smile and knowing gaze of grey blue eyes that accompany it do nothing to dampen its lilting appeal.
The man certainly has a swagger in his stride and as he leans on whatever is close enough to support his weighht you get a feeling that gambling with him might not be the most profitable endeavour.
The particulars:
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 155lbs
Hair: black
Eyes: light watery blue
Age: mid to late 20's, though a life at sea with an unforgiving sea may add to his true age.
