THE TREASURE HUNTERS ( Post Character Description Here)

CAPTAIN RAIDER OF BRIGANTINE THE BILL OF RIGHT (PC-PLAYER CHARACTER)

Privateer / Buccaneer with long sun and sea bleached brown hair and dark eyes, a "P" branded on his left bicep, a tattoo on his right forearm and silver and ebony bracelets on is wrist. On his right hand are two silver rings, a white gold hoop ear ring hangs from his left ear. Symbolizing the circumnavigation of the world. He wears a black leather jacket with silver piping over his bare chest. A cutlass of silver and silver, sapphire and emerald hilted silver bladed Norseman's broadsword hang at his side, a gift from a grateful Viking King and two cap and ball pistols are stuffed in his belt. Walks into the tavern and to a table at the back, sits down removing his two pistols and lays them on the table in front of him. He looks at the woman who had obviously been fight He thought to himself ... "Yes that is who I thought it was, who else."



“BILL OF RIGHTS”

THE CREW

Captain Raider - Captain & Master
Jimmy - The Cabin Boy
Mister O’Hara - First Mate
Rahoul - Master At Arms
Matty - The Power Monkey
Captain Billy Bones - Raiders Monkey
Ishta - First Gunner
“Cooky” -The cook
Patrick “Bones” McCarthy - Ship’s Surgeon

The Brigantine "BILL OF RIGHTS" is a two-hundred and twenty-five foot, 335 ton "BRIGANTINE". With eighteen 6 pounder guns and several swivel guns. She has a beam of 30.5 feet on the gun deck . She is a notoriously fast blockade runner with hidden holds for smuggling cargo. She holds the record for circumnavigation of the world. Some of the islanders of the Caribbean call her "The Barracuda" .

Captain Raiders crew serve aboard of their own free will and share in all bounty and payments for their services. Although discipline is strict it is nor harsh and flogging is unheard of aboard. A mutual respect is the law aboard "Bill Of Rights" as its name implies. So a fierce loyalty abounds from the Captain to the cabin boy "Jimmy". And many a slave owes their freedom to the Captain and his crew. For it is raiders belief that imposed slavery is an abomination. And the torture, abuse, bondage and/or ownership of his fellow man or woman is an unforgivable sin. As is the forcing of another's beliefs upon another. For it is RAIDER's belief that FREEDOM is a GOD given right to all of the planet's creatures.

NAME: Erwin von Halde

AGE: 32

APPEARANCE: Dressed in the clothes of a well-off gentleman, the pale and bespectacled von Halde looks like someone who spends a lot of time at a desk rather than traipsing the countryside. His slim body receives little exercise beyond walks on his secluded country estate. He stands 5’ 10” and composes himself with tidy exactness, though without any particular regard for the latest fashions. His brown hair suffers from an unfortunate haircut, and his brown eyes tend to wear a look of vague distraction, except when he is talking about gemology, whereupon they often acquire a fervor made all the more intense by the magnifying quality of his round spectacles.

OCCUPATION/SKILLS/STORY: Von Halde owns a small estate, inherited from his deceased father, which provides his income and comfortable lifestyle. The estate is fairly secluded and not so wealthy that he can afford lavish expenses. He lives there alone with his servants, spending most of his time in his study and library, where he carries out gemological research. He is also a skilled gem cutter, which he practices purely as a hobby, having no need to work for a living. He is a member of the World Gemological Society and, more interestingly, is the world’s foremost (known) amarite scholar.

Amarite gems are so rare as to be legendary: a luminescent rose-colored stone mythologized as having life-extending properties, perhaps even the power to grant immortality to those exposed to the supposed "Amarite Pits" where the crystals are believed to form. But Mr. von Halde has little interest in such poppycock. While certainly familiar with the abounding legends about amarite, he is more interested in collecting the gems for classification and study. Harder even than diamond, very few people are capable of cutting amarite gems, though von Halde managed to create special files and saws bladed with the useless fragments of Amarite he collected over the years—necessary to brute and cut actual amarite gems. He is in the process of developing a personalized hardness-scale for judging the durability of gemstones, and a special luminosity-scale for judging amarites in particular. The latter is a difficult task, though, as he has only TWO proper amarite gems in possession (an ancient 5.2 carat gem, and a 3.8 carat specimen he cut himself).

These priceless gems might be quite a tempting target for a thief, if not for one other important aspect of amarite lore: Despite the magical “immorality” properties of Amarite Pits, the gems themselves allegedly carry a horrible curse. The dark tales of misfortune that befall those who own the gems are usually enough to steer most collectors away from the gemstones. Though again, as far as Mr. von Halde is concerned, these stories are a bunch of rubbish. However, he doesn’t mind perpetuating the rumor of amarite’s cursed properties—the better to collect specimens for his own use.

His greatest desire is to collect amarite gems. To help him on this quest, he has little besides his comfortable income and his determination. In other words, he is a civilian with no practical combat skills or magical talents.

NAME: Brynhilde “Bryn”

RACE: Human (?)

APPEARANCE: Bryn stands a full 6 feet tall. She has a slim build but there’s no mistaking she’s female. She has red hair always worn pulled back at the base of her neck and piercing, green eyes. She always wears leather trousers and either a matching leather halter like top or cotton tunic. Always strapped to her side is her blade and she carries a dagger in her left boot shaft.

STORY:
Bryn is a swordswoman trained in the art of blade and physical combat. Her origins are a mystery. The only thing people know about her is that she serves a Lord, but she never mentions his name. Not even when asked who her Lord is.

Truth be told, Brynhilde is a Valkyrie in human form - unbeknownst to her companions. Exactly what she’s doing here and why she was told to watch over Erwin remains a mystery. As the journey continues, perhaps her presence will be explained, but until then, she remains close to Erwin while trying to remind herself she is not human and allowing herself to become in human things is not a good idea.

Bryn tells her story of how she became a swords woman to Erwin von Halde, the man her Lord asked her to watch over:
“It was born out of necessity, actually. Times were difficult and many of the men had taken up arms to defend what was rightfully theirs. That, of course, meant there were times their homes were left unprotected. Someone had to make sure they had a home to come back to when they had a reprieve from fighting. While making sure they were taken care of and had plenty to eat and drink at the same time.”

“With all the men gone, that left a handful of women. We decided to teach ourselves the art of swordsmanship. With the men being gone, we had no other choice. And we became very good at our newly discovered abilities so good in fact, when the men came back and discovered how good we really were, they banished those of us who were without families of our own and forbid their wives and mothers to take up arms again for fear we would be the leaders and not them.”

“Those of us who were banished roamed the countryside for many months. The weather was harsh and some of us succumbed to that harshness. Others of us found the nomadic, solitary life was too much for them to handle and went back to their families, abandoning their weapons and knowledge. By the time we met our Lord, there were but three of us left.”

“We were exhausted, half starved to death and in dire need of new clothing when he found us. Seeing we were braver than most men he had encountered, even in our bedraggled state, he saw the rare gems he stumbled across, literally, and realized we were just what he was looking for. He took us into his home, helped us regain our strength, become even better warriors and when the time was right, made us a part of his family. He treats us as though we are his own daughters and all he asks for us in return is that we find those worthy of his graciousness. So now, in honor of him, I travel the vast countryside, like my sisters do as well, and from time to time I find those he would find an honor to invite to his home.”

[size=18]
Name: Meaghan (Meggie) MacKellar
Age: 25
Race:Human
Height: 5' 4"
Eyes: color of spring grass (light green)
Hair: waist length, thick, wavy, soft, color is auburn
Skin: Golden tanned
Body: curvy, well toned
Face: high cheekbones, pert nose, eyes are tilted up at the corners, giving her an exotic look.
Clothes: animal skins, pretty much like the picture at the beginning of the profile.

Meggie's mother had died when she was just 10 years old, leaving her survivalist father and servants to raise the young girl. Even though her father taught her everything he knew about survival, he also was very protective over his only child and daughter to boot, keeping her very sheltered on the estate, not allowing any beaus or for her to attend balls, teas, or parties.

Meggie was 15 years old when her father took her on trip to some islands, but wouldn't tell her exactly where, saying it was a surprise for her 15th birthday. That was the last time she saw her father.

The storm came up suddenly, the waves battering the ship, 'The Maryanne' named for the captain's daughter back home. The ship was breaking apart and the captain had called for abandon ship. Meggie and her father scrambled to the life boats, her father keeping a tight grip on her.

Meggie doesn't remember what happened, but one minute she was in her father's grip as he was putting her into the lifeboat, and the next she was in the cold water, holding tight to a large plank of wood as she watched the ship sink with her father on it.

The next thing she remembers is waking up on a beach on a deserted island. Luckily, her father was a survivallist and had taught Meggie what he knew. She used that knowledge now in order to survive.

She had waited the first three years for rescue before giving up hope. After four years, a ship did come and Meggie thought she was rescued, It was not to be. They were pirates, and not honorable ones. They had captives with them, 2 women from a ship they'd taken, and they brought them to shore. Meggie, feeling that something was not right, stayed back and watched as the men had their way with the women, killing them once they were done. Once they had restocked and went back to their ship, Meggie buried the broken bodies of the two women on the other side of the island. Two more ships came and went in the years following, but Meggie had learned her lesson well. Stay away from anyone, especially men, that came from a ship.



size]

Meaghan (Meggie) MacKellar is approved

Welcome to the adventure

Captain Anne Bonney

APPEARANCE: 5'8" in height, 150 lbs., dark blue eyes, light brown hair, curvy in all the right places.

A female pirate captain of the galleon ship She Wolf. At one time she was Raiders lover but Raider, being the true seaman he was, couldn't resist the call of the sea and left her as she slept beside him one night. Leaving no word of where he was going or when he would be back, Anne became very bitter and swore to seek Raider to the ends of the earth and make sure he couldn't find pleasure with ANY woman ever again.

For two years she's searched the seas for him. Gaining a reputation for being blood thirsty and merciless, she channels all of her anger for Raider into her pirating. Killing any survivors of the ships she attacks, she takes their cargo and provisions for her self and burns their ships letting the sea give it a permanent home at the bottom of the worlds oceans.


WEAPONS: Twin Flint lock pistols, rapier, numerous daggers. Can throw as good a punch as any man.

Aye, ...Captain Anne Bonney APPROVED

For Consideration:

Name: Christopher "Babe" Kelly

Physical description: Babe Kelly is an Irish giant of a man, he stands at over six feet tall and is pushing 250 pounds, he has the arms of an Olympic muscle man and the belly of Santa Clause. Babe is bald and tan, he wears a long mustache and a short beard, he has a lot of tattoos on his arms, back and chest. Babe is a man in his early 50s he is an experienced seaman and a great bare knuckle fighter. Babe has a gold tooth in his upper jaw etched with the letter B clearly visible. Babe's mother was Spanish and his father was an Irish sailor, Babe has darkish skin and black whiskers.

Background: Babe is the Man At Arms aboard the She Wolf, he has traveled with Captain Anne for some time and serves her loyally. Babe has no romantic leanings toward Captain Anne but does care for her and will follow her orders for the most part without question. Babe is older than Anne but has no problem serving under her aboard the She Wolf. Babe is good with guns, knives and swords and not that she really needs it but on occasion Babe has served as Captain Anne's bodyguard and security escort. Babe is young at heart and is known to laugh and chuckle at inappropriate times like during bloody battles and on deck in a storm.

Babe's favorite weapons are two long and broad short swords/daggers with studded knuckle guards. He wears them in his belt front and center, he likes them because they are designed to cut and punch.

O, yeh scrappers theez blades o'mine will sure give yeh the business!...

Christopher "Babe" Kelly



Welcome aboard

SubBear wrote:

For Consideration:

Name: Christopher "Babe" Kelly


O, yeh scrappers theez blades o'mine will sure give yeh the business!...

Avast ye land lubbers....da crew of da She Wolf be a growlin' at yer door....


ROTFL...

Damn good t'have ya aboard, Bear...and I LOVE the character...he will be PERFECT balance for Anne

YO HO!..It's the sailor's life for me!

The tavern's lanterns shone through the smoky air like miniature beacons aglow in a treacherous night mist; their light steering unwary patrons of the tavern through its shadowy perils. The Selkie's Tale, was well known for its scallywags and cutthroats, but the popularity of its whores and fine brew lured many a gold pocketed moth to its flame.

Amidst the roar of a lively crew and the laughter of whores a young sailor slept, his long unruly locks spilling over the tankard that supported his head. Passed out drunk from his spent winnings in a game of hazard, he was easy pickings for the thieving hand of the young tooler creeping under the table toward the man's purse. The skilled pick pocket, deftly opened the man's purse, but even before he laid a finger on his money, the boy felt the cold steel of a blade at his throat.

"Keep your tongue, or you'll lose it, boy!" Whispered a voice through a crack in the table. It bore a heavy accent, French the boy believed and looking up he was alarmed to see an eye staring at him through a knot-hole in the table. "Aller, aller! Get out of here, boy!"

The boy scampered off, and the men standing by the bar were none the wiser. They had been watching the passed out sailor for some time, making sure there was no fight left in the lad before they struck. The two thugs anxiously fingered their blades, awaiting their master to cut their tethers while he patiently drank down his grog.

"He's a fast one boys." The old man told them, noting their impatience.

The thugs all but ignored the man's words but acknowledged that at last he seemed to be loosening his grasp on their leashes. All they could see was a stoned drunk man and was never going to wake up. A single slice across his throat would see to that.

"Whas' this man's name anyhow, Cap'n?" Asked one of the henchmen and received a good knock on the back of his head from his mate. "Don't you listen, Chance? He's a traitor he is. The sole survivor o' the Black Sun. An informing rat!" he spat, "They calls him 'Raynurd', they do."

"Raynurd?" Repeated Chance, "Whas that mean?" he inquired recalling that the man was foreign.

The other henchman shrugged his burly shoulders. "Dun know. I think maybe it's Spanish for rat."

The Captain rolled his eyes and slightly shook his head at the two imbeciles that worked for him. The fools wouldn't know German from Italian, let alone a word of French. How he loathed their company, but at last came the time for them to part company. The men that had been sitting at the table next to Reynard were leaving and the opportunity was at hand to finish him off once and for all. The Captain darted his eyes toward the henchmen, motioning toward the table with his grizzled beard and the two men slowly walked toward the passed out sailor.

Reynard, sober and alert, tightened his grip on dirk and cutlas hidden from sight by the table. As the men cautiously approached, his thoughts drifted back to how this part of his life had begun and he recalled that ill fated day when Le Soleil Noir was ambushed by a Naval vessel, called the Albion.

Lothair de Baptiste was at the helm, maintaining a stead course around a group of islands. They were in uncharted waters, and he had plotted a course the previous night to ensure that they didn't run a ground in the shallows. It was his third year as pilot, and Captain Maurice Camponeault trusted him with the ship and often let him chart their course and captain the ship through the night when the moon was bright. Sailing the black sea could be treacherous, but Lothair, also known as Reynard, or the 'Fox', could sail blind folded.

There was a strong wind, and they were making good time. Lothair checked his bearing, and content looped off the wheel and walked a stern to watch the ships foaming wake fade into the dark. That was when he heard the pop of the distant cannon fire, followed by the whistle of the oncoming cannon balls. The first one struck the water at the bow, but those that followed compromised the port side and sheered off the foresail. Then panic ensued as fire reputed in the galley.

"La vache!" Lothair exclaimed as he swung the ship away from the attacking vessel that had emerged from behind a small island.

As another long range volley smashed into the slow turning ship, the Captain emerged on deck, shouting orders and trying to maintain order, but the men were already hysterical and some were attempting to launch the rafts. The Captain, however, would not tolerate desertion when the battle had not yet even begun and shot one of the men dead while gutting the other to make his point, but even though Lothaire agreed with Camponeault, he knew that they could not win this fight.

The naval ship was fleet, and eventually caught up to the crippled Soleil Noir and riddle her bones one last time before they grappled and boarded. The pirates fought like the cornered animals that they were, but they were out numbered. As they fell, no man was spared and became apparent there would be no arresting this night, they were being exterminated like the vermin that they were. Lothair had been stuck by shrapnel but he could still wield a sword and prepared to die at the side of his Captain, but Camponeault it seemed had other plans for him. He looked upon the young man as a son, and now in the face of death, he could not bear to see him fall and so when Lothaire's back was turned the Captain waylaid him. He then lashed him to a barrel and sent him over the rail, where he drifted into the sea and was caught in a current that would take him to the islands they had been navigating around.

Lothaire washed up on the beach and would have perished if not for the kind help of savages indigenous to the island. They nursed him back to health and allowed him to live among them for a year until he was strong and able enough to begin his journey home by the use of one of their study sea canoes.

When he returned, no one believed his story. As the sole survivor of Le Soleil Noir, people believed that he must have been the one that betrayed them. The very people that his Captain had enthralled him with amazing swashbuckling tales marked him for death, but his demise would prove to be no easy task. As the most promising student of Camponeault, he could learned the art of swordsmanship and when all else failed he could scamper up the rigging like a monkey. He was renown for his quickness and it had kept him alive thus far.

Reynard remained motionless, leaving the two henchmen to believe him to be passed out until the moment they were about to strike. He could hear one of the men stop in front of the table while the other walked round behind him. The sound of a dagger sliding from its sheath, drowned out all other sounds around him and as he felt his would be killer's hand touch the hairs at the top of his head, Reynard struck. With lightning quickness, the passed out man leapt out of his seat and through his body into the man behind him, simultaneously driving his dirk into the man's ribs as the top of his head cracked the bridge of his nose.

Chance, his eyes wide with both fear and rage, threw the table aside and reached for his sword, but before he could draw it, a cutlass slashed threw his throat. A crimson spray erupted and painted the walls as Reynard spun around and sunk his blade into the first attacker's neck and kicked him to the floor.

Reynard looked to the bar, but the henchman's employer was long gone. He cleaned his blades on one of the bodies, relieved them of their few coins and left the establishment with his weapons drawn. Only when he was well away from the tavern did he sheath his weapons as he vanished into the night.

Lothair de Baptiste - Reynard



Welcome aboard