Post by Arthur Kirkland on Dec 23, 2010 12:38:28 GMT -5
Name: Arthur Kirkland
Country/Code Name: England
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Affiliation: Pirate
----If not Civilian: The HMS Britannia/Queen’s Ransom
Ship Positions: Captain
Likes:
-Tea; Earl Grey is his favourite, though he also loves the blacker spice blends of the Orient, and firmly believes that a perfect cup can only be brewed with appropriate effort, timing and care.
-Feeling challenged; he enjoys mental puzzles as a result, mainly chess or any game where he feels like he is being challenged. This is also true of the people that he encounters – England is more likely to be intrigued by individuals that offer him difficulty, or a mystery about themselves to be unraveled. Even if he behaves outwardly frustrated, inside he’s gleeful at the prospect of something holding his interest.
-Leather-bound books; he has a chest specifically to stow his collection and instructions that those treasured belongings be saved first in emergencies.
-The colour red; whether it is in the crisp red of an apple, a glass of wine, an English rose in full bloom, or the oftentimes unavoidable spill of an opponent’s blood, the colour is much beloved by England. It is his banner and there is never a time when England is seen without some touch of it on his person – if not his coat, then through a folded handkerchief, ruby brooch for his cravat or some other subtle touch.
-Cooking; though he hardly ever gets the opportunity to make anything food-related with his busy schedule, England enjoys the satisfaction and calm that comes with baking. His crew loves his food. Though this is probably because they have no choice in the matter and are too afraid to speak up about it.
-Vices; England enjoys his bad habits, mainly drinking, though he also tends not to turn down experiences with other sinful pleasures. Fortunately, his schedule doesn’t leave him with too much time to indulge his vices, and England’s strength of will prevents him from getting too wrapped up into most addictions.
Dislikes:
-Laziness; England considers himself a hard worker, running a successful ship and pirate ‘trade’. He expects his crew to work just as much so that the benefits are earned and not taken advantage of. He has gone through crewmen in the past that did not carry their weight.
-Stupidity; While ignorance is a perfectly understandable trait amongst the usually uneducated pirate circuit, England has a stern intolerance for those who deliberately turn away from opportunities to expand their knowledge.
-Coffee; Something about the beverage turns his stomach, finding the smell acrid and cloying, the taste a mingled mix of something dirty and rotten. There’s no real source to his distaste of it, it’s just something that he’s always loathed. If he had only the choice of drinking coffee or nothing at all, England would rather go thirsty.
-Boredom; The Englishman is at his most dangerous when he is suffering from ennui. It makes him restless and more likely to seek out occupations that are usually at the expense of other people or their ships. Boredom is something that is nearly an affliction for him that he’s been suffering most of his life.
-Disrespect; being insulted drives England nutters, especially when it concerns his looks – more specifically his eyebrows, or when someone dares to question his intelligence. He considers himself a gentleman above all aside from his salty language, but can become quickly temperamental in situations where he feels that he is not being regarded properly. Considering the reputation and success that he has worked so hard to earn, England expects it to come with the respect that he deserves.
Job Skills: [eg. carpentry, navigation training, mechanic skills.]
-Negotiation; a strong head for business transactions (even legitimate ones), as well as an attention to detail that make him a skilled negotiator for contracts/terms. Arthur does not bind himself to things that might come back to bite him later.
-Business Sense/Economics; thanks to consistent training by his father, Arthur has an incredible grasp on the inner workings of business dealings, economic investments, etc. He has used this skill to procure several successful business ventures within Londinium, and has an instinct on when certain markets will garner higher returns for him or not. Arthur has invested his funds into several different fields as a result, and could live quite comfortably off his reputable income.
-Embroidery; while being able to sew rips and tears in his clothes is not exactly something that benefits his ship, repairing torn sails has saved him considerable time and money from hiring outside help to get it done. This also extends over to the many times that he has to patch either himself or one of his crew up from injuries sustained in battle or accidents, since Arthur can sew up a wound with minimal scarring.
-Leadership; this is not really a learnt skill, though it has certainly been sharpened over time through experience. Arthur sets the example for his crew by keeping his wits in tense situations, commanding with a practical, levelheaded sensibility that has led him to many successful victories against his enemies. In meetings with the Captains of other vessels, Arthur will often take over lead of the proceedings unless there is someone else with an equally strong personality to keep things on schedule.
-Weapon Skills; both a skilled swordsman and excellent marksman, Arthur has become quite adept at fighting in battle though he does everything in his power to keep a battle from escalating to the point of his ship being boarded. He knows how to use his body in a fight; despite being compact and a little shorter than others his fighting prowess is wielded with cunning rather than brute force.
-Duplicity; maintaining two different lives is a challenge that Arthur enjoys, and he has gotten very good at it. He has become skilled at masking his true nature in the public view while also weaving a very complicated web to keep his cover preserved in the face of the Military’s watch. Though Arthur has often had a scrape or two when his business dealings became too risky, so far he has managed to fool almost everyone into believing that he is something he is not.
Personality and short background:
Arthur Kirkland was born and raised in Londinium. His parents were hardworking middle class citizens; father was a merchant with a small business that operated at the Docks, mother was a seamstress who took commissions from out of their small home. Their lifestyle was simple and lacked the fanciful possessions of other households. Arthur was raised on business, living it daily through assisting his father and learning the art of how commerce worked. Sometimes he would even help his mother, learning how to weave an artful stitch into fabrics more delicate and fancier than anything he knew. It was probably due to consistent exposure to the difficult French clients of his parents that Arthur himself developed a distaste towards them that remains with him to this day.
It was best for him to keep busy, because during those idle times when left with nothing to do, Arthur was a child that suffered from a terrible affliction: boredom. He was quickly jaded in his boyhood by the early realization that his lifestyle was unsatisfying to him -- there was no challenge to be found in his common life and Arthur was the sort of creature that wanted desperately to find something that would satisfy his need for something greater. Quite often when he was at the Docks with his father, Arthur would watch the passage of the grand airships sailing in and out of Londinium with a sense of longing in his heart for the potential that they promised.
When the time came that he was old enough to create his own fortunes, Arthur left his life behind. He boarded the first merchant vessel that he could find passage on. This allowed him to learn what life was like on an Airship and for the first time in his life Arthur felt the stirring of excitement as his future opened up before him. His shrewd senses and sharp wit had the Englishman quickly climbing the ladder of positions on the crew, until Arthur became one of the youngest Quartermasters on an active vessel at the tender age of eighteen years.
An opportunity presented itself when the merchant ship was attacked by pirates while flying through open skies and though their ship was released once the thieves had taken all the valuables offered, Arthur made a bold request to join their crew instead. It was a wise move. Piracy offered him precisely what he had been seeking, providing the thrill that had been lacking in his life. While it took time for him to adjust to the harsher environment of living amongst pirates, Arthur learnt to fight, how to use his cunning to make friends and thwart potential enemies. He found that his simple, practical childhood had left him imprinted with an ability to be ruthless when needed and even a detachment from the burden of morality that plagued simpler people.
He became quickly favoured by the ship’s Captain considering the potential that Arthur demonstrated and within a couple of years apprenticing the seasoned elder, Arthur was offered to helm another ship in the pirate’s fleet – the Queen’s Ransom, though it known as the HMS Britannia for those not familiar with the ship’s true reputation and practices. He took on the crew as well as the responsibilities of being Captain as easily as he had the other obstacles of his past. In no time at all Captain Arthur Kirkland – known to all others as England -- had settled into his new role as if he had always been in it.
As a testament to his capabilities, Arthur’s ship is the last one standing in the old fleet. While the seasoned Captain that he had learnt from had lost his airship in an unlucky bet with an American, the Queen’s Ransom has seen prosperous times as the competition in the sky becomes less heavy thanks to the intervention of the military and the rivalries that eventually drive ships to battle and collapse. Arthur knows how to stack the deck in his favour, and always waits to play his hand until just the right moment.
Among his fellow pirates, Arthur’s reputation for success is also matched by his penchant to be something of a bully. There are a few specific ships that he likes to target over others. Some fellow pirates, merchants – and a few military crafts, are often toyed with by the Queen’s Ransom. This is surely an unwelcome nuisance to them but at the same time it is the highest compliment that Arthur pays anyone, because it means that he sees them as interesting enough to hold his attentions for more than one encounter.
His life and experiences so far have crafted his personality into what it is today. Though there is a certain duality to the Englishman since he has to balance living the life of a pirate and masking his identity as a pirate when in public view.
Arthur has built a small empire of thriving businesses in Londinium, as well as owning rental properties that he earns income from. He conducts himself as an established, respectable businessman in Londinium society, and is known both by his wealth and success as well as his reputation as a leading philanthropist. Arthur so far has managed to keep his two lives carefully separate to avoid being caught. Though his dual identity is known about by one particular Finnish gunsmith that Arthur/England has dealings with on a regular basis.
Personality – A reputable gentleman pirate, he is above all things a natural strategist. This means that he knows when to be persuasive, when to be ruthless, and when it is best just to retreat. England is charismatic as all leaders can be, though he is quite reserved and guards his emotions close. There are no known individuals that England trusts, cautious by nature and regarding the world with emerald eyes that are constantly searching, always calculating.
He can be temperamental in the wrong circumstances and that usually ends badly for the other party. Despite his stoic, gruff outward demeanor, England is an excellent man to seek a good time with when it comes to drinking in pubs or raising similar kinds of hell. Whenever he gets thoroughly drunk, it is clear to see that more depth to his personality comes out, something softer and more golden – a fleeting preview of who he might have become if he had chosen a different life.
In the view of the Londinium public, Arthur is polite if withdrawn. He has no close ties with anyone on a social level and remains a mystery to many, though others easily dismiss it as him just being an incredibly private individual. Arthur has heard a variety of rumours speculating why an eligible young businessman like himself remains unmarried and unattached to anyone in the public eye – and they amuse him greatly. The few times that England has given in to more physical urges (usually after imbibing alcohol), things have rarely turned out well -- especially one particular occasion with a French pirate that nearly ended in violence. While the Frenchman enjoys occasionally reminding him of the event, England prefers to treat it as an aberration and pretends that it never happened.
Other: Despite having grown up in a world that heavily embraces technology, Arthur has a strong preference to do things ‘the old-fashioned’ way. This might also be due to the fact that he tends to break things that are complicated.
England’s Pirate Lair: When conducting business aboard the Queen’s Ransom is too risky, the pirate captain holds court with his fellow pirates through a secret pantry door in the back of an old, elegant teahouse in the middle of Londinium’s downtown district. The staff on hand are in the Captain’s employ (though they are unaware of their employer’s true profession), and are responsible for screening people that wish to speak with the owner of the establishment.
RP sample: ( verse-specific is preferable but you may provide a sample from other AUs. Try for a combination of action, thought and dialogue)
London’s Last Gate Thread from Zombietalia
Arthur was in conference with his fellow nations when one of his assistants delivered the alarming news.
The elegant old Bentley had barely slowed to a crawl, its brakes squealing, as the Englishman went charging out through the door without so much as a glance to his stunned driver. He could focus on nothing except for the wooden structure of stairs sprawling up the entire height of the towering wall of stone ahead of him. Those stairs were a temporary fixture; they’d been erected only as an access point to the peak of the walls as a means for the work crews to finish construction on the last massive gate. Arthur ran up them as fast as he could, feet barely touching the steps on his way up.
His heart was lurching a terribly fast rhythm in his chest already. He felt it twist painfully in warning that his exertions were too much, too soon, but Arthur’s indomitable will was greater than the pounding ache in his ribcage and the Englishman forced himself onward and up despite it. Not even halfway up the maze of stairs, he could already hear the sounds of alarm from the other side of the wall, building like a wave of noise that was gaining in strength. Some of his men were running in opposite directions, a few even rushing down past him in an effort to flee. Arthur could not fault them for their terror.
The last gate stood open, spanning an entire block’s width. Arthur’s eyes flickered up briefly to the massive iron construct of chains, levers, and pulleys. It was the last and final vulnerable point into the heart of London. The raised gate’s shadow darkened several of the buildings on the interior of the walls, that metal grating creating a weave pattern from where the sunlight filtered through its wire mesh. Arthur propelled himself up the last flight of stairs, ignoring the sweat that had coated his brow and dampened his suit as he forced himself that last bit of distance to the peak of the wall.
Calm. He needed to be calm. More than ever before, he could not give in to panic despite the fact that his people were battering at him with that very emotion in droves. Arthur tried to fight off the heavy weight of their fear pressing against him. He steadied himself by grasping hold of the sturdy stone. Out of the corner of his eye, the Englishman glimpsed one of the workers rushing over to him, having to shout over the growing level of the crowd on the outside. “Sir! Thank God. We were told that we couldn’t act until your order.”
“What’s the situation?” Arthur panted out. He held his hand out for the binoculars that were clenched by the human male, lifting them immediately up in front of his eyes once they had been handed over. The island nation straightened from where the lack of air had doubled him in half so that Arthur could pan those viewers across the open fields just outside the walls. Then Arthur’s fingers clamped down hard on the binoculars at the vision that greeted him.
A mass of survivors was still outside of the barrier. They had to keep the process of getting people into the city; all of these had cleared the outer checkpoint. Arthur could not even begin to estimate how many there were. From this high up, all of them were a cluster of colors, blurred faces and roving bodies. The sheer numbers of people were not what alarmed him. It was the sight of the other masses closing in on them.
The Undead were racing across the open green fields – his broad, emerald earth – in pursuit of the waiting meal that had drawn them across Arthur’s land clear to his capital. They came pouring over the fields, a horrid menace bearing down closer and closer. Arthur’s eyes blinked behind the lenses of the binoculars as he watched them pouring over the hills. He was reminded of older times, dark times, when raiders would come charging in just such a manner, driven by their blood-thirst and desire for conquest; those ancient times when a young Albion barely tall enough to string a bow fired volley after volley into that oncoming menace in an effort to protect his fledgling land and people.
Now, across all that span of time, Arthur could only stand there as a helpless witness to what was about to occur.
He slowly lowered the binoculars down from his face, green eyes grim as they watched unaided as the first of the Undead struck. Those moving bodies far below began to shift, a massive wave that rippled from the back of the masses on its way to the front. The survivors knew what was happening. Arthur could see as they began to charge forward through the mouth of the Gate. Those at the rear were already being overwhelmed as the waves of Undead clashed into their midst. Even without the binoculars to augment his vision, Arthur could see where they were getting cut down.
“S-sir?!”
Arthur’s head turned slowly to the man beside him. He had not even been aware that the man was talking to him until the fellow took hold of his arm in a firm grasp. Arthur stared at him blankly, questioning him with his silence.
“They’ll reach the city soon. Are we going to send out any military forces or not? Sir!”
The Englishman’s gaze dropped to the horrors taking place below. He held the binoculars out at the other man. “Drop the Gate.”
“Sir?” Blinking, the other man seemed to disbelieve the words that had been spoken. “Drop the Gate? What about the people outside? Or those still coming through the entrance? If we drop it now – they’ll be crushed!”
Arthur’s face hardened subtly, composed into an enigmatic mask. He reached his hand over to seize hold of his subject by the front of the man’s jumper as the Englishman repeated himself in a firm voice. “Drop it. Now. Or I shall do it myself.” There must have been some sort of menace in his eyes. As soon as he released the man, the human went hurrying off to comply with the order.
In under a few minutes, the entire city of London could hear the sudden metallic groan of that towering Gate as it began to turn. Arthur could feel the wall rumbling. The barrier had been constructed with the intent of these devices lowering a slow, steady speed to the ground. This haste was something that the structure was not entirely prepared for. Arthur watched as the massive chains went spinning quickly in a ripple of shining metal, the shadow that was cast upon London dropping down with alarming quickness as the Gate went rushing down to the ground below.
He could hear the screams of those outside. He could hear the screams of those who were still streaming underneath the falling Gate. Arthur heard the barrier smashing to the ground below and had to clutch onto a chunk of stone to keep it from pitching him over as the entire thing shook in response to the force. He was still kneeling there even after the shaking had stopped. There was no threat of him being thrown off the wall now to keep him sagged in place like that, yet for some odd reason it felt close to impossible to get back up onto his feet at that time.
Hours later, Arthur sat alone in his study. The paperwork was piling up on his desk. He stared at it as the thought dimly crossed his mind that he really ought to stop neglecting it. His teacup was balanced delicately on an upturned palm, though the steam that had been rising out of it when he’d first received it had long faded. He glanced up from his cold tea and stack of papers as the door swung quietly open. Arthur blinked languidly at the young man in military uniform who stood waiting for his acknowledgement. “Report.”
“Sir. The numbers that you requested…”
“Yes? Ah, the casualties. Well? Spit it out.”
The soldier nodded tersely and slid a clipboard up in front of him, flipping through a few papers. “Based on the reports from the last Checkpoint, an estimated three hundred had been crossing to the Gate when the attack took place. Between those who had gone through since the last report from the Checkpoint Guard, and taking the expected flow of arrivals in mind – we believe that it may have been somewhere within the five hundred mark.”
“Right. Five hundred.” Arthur blinked. Five hundred poor souls locked on the outside of the wall or crushed under the massive weight of the Gate. A handful, really, compared to the much larger number within the city now. Five hundred minor sacrifices made for the greater good. “File it, then. They’ll want the numbers in the Situation Room, I would imagine.”
His man saluted him, palm out and stiff. Arthur almost returned the gesture out of sheer habit. Only the fact that he still had his teacup pinched in his fingers prevented it. The Englishman watched him depart, the door to his study shutting quietly, politely. Arthur stared at the wood, considering it, before focusing back on the surface of his tea.
It had gone cold. Arthur wagered that it would taste horrid. How unfortunate. He absolutely hated to waste a good cup of tea. There was a ripple on the surface of the liquid, a faint sound of porcelain clattering together as Arthur’s hand was shaken by a slight tremor. Deciding that it would be best not to risk shattering or dropping the delicate pieces, Arthur placed the saucer down on his desk.
OOC Information
Name: Hat
Timezone: Pacific Standard Time(US)/GMT -8
Aim/msn/skype/email: flycanadafly – AIM
AT!England’s Soundtrack:
Evil and a Heathen – Franz Ferdinand (England’s pirate anthem)
Thieving Magpie Overture – Rossini (Pirate attack theme!)
Minuet – Luigi Boccherini (England’s teashop theme)
