Post by Antonio Carriedo on Jun 3, 2011 18:55:15 GMT -5
i said, no ball and chain
[/b][/center][/font][/size][/color]Full Name: Antonio Fernandez Carriedo
Aliases: Toni/o
Country of Origin: Spain - San Sebastian
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance:
With eyes so green they make trees jealous, an unruly mop of long brown hair, and that seemingly permament smile, Antonio paints quite the picture. Although relaxed in posture and in gait, he is no slob - in fact, he's usually quite sharply dressed; his rich red duster is a must, but under this can be layered any number of bold colors, from deep blues and greens to bright whites and flashing yellows. His boots, although sturdy, are well-worn and scuffed.
His face shines with happiness and he's rarely seen without a laugh on his lips, even when he's about to run someone through - in fact, that may be when he smiles the brightest. Physically, he stands at an average height, still strung with muscle from his previous life and because, as they say, if you're gonna be dumb, you gotta be tough. He also has a rather voluptuous derrière.
Job:
Although he captains his own boat, Antonio isn't exactly what one would call... good at what he does. Yes, he's a skilled combatant, but he's frequently taken advantage of by his own crew without even realizing what's happening.
Personality:
There really isn't a more apt description for Toni than 'big dumb puppy'. He's happy, all the time, even in the face of potentially deadly enemies. Life is a giant rainbow of happiness to him - what's the point of living if you're not enjoying yourself, having fun? To Toni, there isn't a point. He's oblivious to a fault, failing to notice even even the most obvious things from hints and clues, to social cues, to outright sexual molestation; or perhaps he simply chooses not to notice them.
He's talkative, constantly joking, and- as if it was possible- he's an even happier drunk, spontaneously erupting into song or trying to dance with any willing partner, even if that partner ends up being a barstool. Everything he does is undertaken with passion and dedication, from relationships to cooking to the simple act of living life.
Antonio also has a serious bloodlust, however, and if you toy with the people he's close to, you're apt to wake the sleeping bear. When someone he cares about is being threatened, or he catches sight or scent of blood, he becomes a cold, cruel, analytical machine; rage incarnate; a tornado. It's almost as if he's a completely different person. His cheerful demeanor slips away, and he no longer cares about his own personal safety - he just starts killing, recklessly, with abandon.
It's curious to wonder if his carefree persona is just a way of appearing innocent; if behind those twinkling jade eyes there lays in constant wait a demon, watching and listening.
History:
The only surviving child of four in the costal Spanish town of San Sebastian, Toni led a relatively quiet childhood. Born to a fishing family, he was familiar with boats, helping his father to bring in the catch almost as soon as he could walk. It was then that he began to catch stories, of this boat belonging to pirates, that boat being boarded; his father had told him hundreds of stories about these pirates that ran amok on the high seas, much to the chagrin of decent seafaring folk. He became fascinated with the very idea of pirates, despite the fact that his father reassured him that they were very nasty folk.
Early on in his life he discovered a love of greenery; of growth; and began to tend his own small vegetable patch. He grew mostly tomatoes, enchanted by their smooth, flawless skin and almost unnatural red glow, and developed a knack for cooking them into just about any conceivable variety of food.
When he hit his teens, Toni began to venture out on his own to fish. It was on one of these expeditions that he first caught sight of real pirates. Although he was oddly attracted to the ship, eventually his brain kicked in and he hightailed it back to port just as quickly as he could. However, an impression had been made - one that would alter the course of his life.
He spent the rest of his teenage years working up money for a ship of his own. He even got his father to contribute somewhat, under the guise that it was "a fishing ship", which wasn't entirely a lie - you could fish from it, after all. After much hard labor and a ridiculous amount of fishing trips, he finally managed to procure a decent sized - although questionably seaworthy - vessel, and recruited a small crew.
He left his family under cover of night, and he hasn't looked back since. Today, he spends his time hopping from small port town to smaller port town, lounging about in bars or in markets, taking a ship only when the urge strikes him or he notices his coffers getting unusually low (although, he could swear he didn't spend that much.)
nor prison shall keep
[/b][/center][/font][/size][/color]Roleplay Sample:
It wasn't necessarily a bad night, but it wasn't a good one, either. It was cold for a summer's night in Spain, but not unusually so, and clouds above obscured the stars and cast odd shadows across the harbor. Ships rested at port like slumbering beasts, the occasional groan of timber splitting the humid air. The only real light came from a row of taverns facing the surf, each rotting apart from the salty sea air and shabbier than the one before it. Boisturous voices could be heard, and occassionaly a fight was literally thrown out the door, much to the delight of the patrons within.
In the darkest, smallest tavern, set the farthest away from the harbor, a certain Spaniard had set up his camp for the night. It was quiet, but the people within where that particular tone of seedy that could turn even their own kind away. It was a great way for him to get away from his crew, for not even they would follow him here, not into this dank place where smoke hung thick in the air and the only light was a dwindling fire.
There was little talking in the bar, and the Nation revelled in the silence, savoring the incredibly salty alchohol he had been served in a barely-clean tankard. With his customary red jacket draped carefully over the back of his chair, and his hat perched on the table, he was the picture of relaxation. Yes, Toni was quite content with the way things were at that moment in time, until something snapped in the atmosphere and he looked up from his seat in the back of the bar.
"I said, yew drank mah drank!" A burley man, easily three times the Spaniard's size, was confronting a smaller pirate who resembled a tall rat. He slammed a ham-shoulder fist on the bar and pushed into his face, his features contored into a sneer.
"I did nothing!" squawed the smaller pirate, leaning back. Suddenly he was launched into a table, the rotting wood splintering underthe force. The man stood from his crash and was promblty smashed in the face. Blood began to pour down from a wound on his head. Spain blinked then, and leaned forward, his normally cheery eyes seeming to grow cold, almost calculating. The beefier man was hauling back for round two when Antonio placed a hand atopt his shoulder.
"You know," Spain hissed, face twisting into a devious smile, "You should really pay more attention to your grog, si?" The man spun with a roar, but Toni dropped, the punch missing him by centimeters. He popped back up a second later, pulling a face at the giant and quickly taking a nimble leap back when he tried for a second punch. All muscle, no skill - Antonio was familiar with the type.
Well, this would be boring.
_____
OOC:
Name/Nickname: Jill
Age: 17
Time Zone: Eastern (DST right now, though)
Contact info: PM me for MSN, otherwise you can email me at licoricelobsterATliveDOTcom
we're the rebels of the scared heart
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