Post by The Love Ballad on Feb 26, 2020 4:25:58 GMT -5
Other Names: Mag
Epithet: N/A
Height: 184cm
Build: 85kg - Muscled without Toning
Age: 25
Birthday: 23 May
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Occupation: Pirate/Thug/Brewer & Distiller
Bounty: Nil
Total X-Poinz: 894
Used X-Poinz: 325 + 125 Rebate XPz
- Underhand Overarm (D-Class FiSt, 200 XPz) (+125 Rebate XPz)
- Islay Skye (Rank 2, Underhand Overarm, 50XPz, 75 Rebate XPz)
- Two-Hander (Rank 1, Underhand Overarm, 75XPz, 50 Rebate XPz)
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Personality
"Ye' lookin' at me, ye' twice-damned cur?"
By all measures of the word, Mag is a loathsome individual. Selfish and without care for how others see him, he is bold, brash, and brazen. Nowhere is this more evident than in his manner of speaking, which is littered with expletives and countless boasts and unsubstantiated claims to fame. He treats others with a blatant disdain, unless of course they can offer him something of value. It's not that he isn't aware of how these actions make others perceive him, it's just that he doesn't care. Mag doesn't respect others, nor does he respect himself. His blatant misanthropy isn't a mask to hide a sensitive soul, it's a deeply ingrained part of his personality, so much so that it extends to himself. Mag holds a deep-sense of self-loathing, and such loathing is exhibited through his countless vices. Not the least of which is his love of the bottle, by any reasonable measure, Mag is a functional alcoholic. Prone to drink heavily, but not prone to bouts of drunkenness. He possesses within him, a mildly addictive personality, he too loves gambling and smoking, but believes that as long as he does not overdo it on any single occasion then he has outrun the devil of addiction.
Mag's entire personality, at its core, is driven by his unwavering ambition. Mag longs for wealth, power and glory beyond its wildest measure. As such, until this is within his grasp, he strains against himself and others in a near-impotent rage. Mag longs for victory, at any cost to himself or to those who surround him, and this one core desire shapes how he both views the world and how he interacts with it.
That isn't to say the Mag is entirely without virtue, nor is he a sociopath, he does care for his friends even if he struggles to articulate it. Despite all of his best efforts, he finds it near-impossible to betray and cheat people he genuinely cares about and is not a complete stranger to self-sacrifice. He does value camaraderie, to a certain extent, and as he is prone to do he won't sacrifice something he values for no gain.
If one were to summarise Mag, it would be as a ruthless man with little regard for civilised society.
Appearance
"Quit ye' damned starin'"
As far as build is concerned, Mag is fit and athletically above the average. He has a lithe, muscular physique built from days of hard work and fighting. His muscle definition is hidden under a layer of fat due to his consumption of alcohol, but to call him even chubby would be a stretch. His entire body is covered in coarse red hair, from head to toe. Nowhere is this more evident than upon his head, where he possesses a thick and untamed mane of wild red locks. Many of which are matted beyond any hope of repair. Concerning facial hair, he possess near constant stubble that runs down his neck and seamlessly melds with the hair on his chest.
His eyes are a muddy brown, and his nose is crooked from one too many breaks. A similar fate has befallen his mouth, wherein one of his front teeth has been clean knocked out and replaced with a metal substitute. His left ear is all but gone, the top half cleaved clean off. This all adds to a face that wasn't much to write home about before his adventures in banditry and drunken brawls. Mag is not an attractive man, and carries the aura of someone who shouldn't be met in a dark alley.
Clothing wise he is prone to simple and unassuming short sleeved shirts and long pants. Most of his wardrobe is in the colours of green and brown, with a smattering of white shirts. The one exception to this all, are his leather sandals which he near always wears.
Skills
"'Aint much better than a fine brew."
"'Aint much better than a fine brew."
Makin' Grog - Mag has a passion for brewing and distilling, mainly beer and whisky. Although he's yet to come anywhere near to perfecting a decent bottle of whisky, and normally settles for grain-based moonshine that is just as likely to strip paint as it is to be near-consumable. To call any of Mag's moonshine a "beverage" at this point is generous. On the other hand, he has developed a rather potent and tasty IPA, one that he is constantly looking on changing and improving during his free time aboard ships. He is by no means a master brewer, but as far as hobbyists go he is talented. Of course, given how much he drinks, one would hope so.
Traits
Lead Liver, Iron Stomach - Years of hard drinking have conditioned Mag's body to the point that he is not only an extreme heavy weight when it comes to holding his booze, but also his body has learned to process poisons quickly and efficiently out of his blood stream. Mag struggles to succumb to drunkenness, and he also is not as affected by food that would otherwise be dangerous to eat, including raw or off foods and is less susceptible to poison.
Swift as a Coursing River - Mag is quick, especially in a fight. Years of constant brawls and fights have led to him relying on his speed in battle above all other factors. And whilst this does mean that he is quicker moving, his real strength lies in his ability to quickly switch between techniques, allowing him to choreograph a blow and change the direction of impact exceptionally quickly.
Thug's Grit - Mag has been in a number of scrapes over the years, from drunken bar brawls to proper boarding battles, both on the receiving end from marines and the giving end against merchant trawlers. During those fights, he has taken more than his fair share of beatings. As such, he has developed the ability to stay standing and fighting through blows that would incapacitate the average human.
Fighting Styles
Name: Underhand Overarm
Focus: Knives, Thrown Projectiles, Backstabbing
Class: D
Description: Underhand Overarm is a fighting style built on two aspects, knives and dirty-fighting. Ultimately, the style encapsulates two types of techniques, either knives thrown from a distance or quick closing in moves that result in knives being stabbed into the opponent in their blind spots. The style is focused heavily on keeping one's distance until it is time to strike and defence is built around dodging.
Aspects:
- Shifting Trajectory - The utilisation of ever-so-subtle wrist and hand movements, while a weapon is thrown, allow for said thrown projectiles to seemingly curve and change course mid-flight. The shift in direction can range in scope, from an arcing movement to seemingly shocking angular shifts. Although the latter requires taking advantage of the weight balance, or lack there of, of a particular item. Top-heavy, or bottom-heavy, weapons are much easier to get to drastically change mid-flight, as the spin of the weapon is already off-centred.
Techniques
Name: Islay Skye
Rank: 2
Description: The user rapidly throws knives, often taking them from their stationary position such as upon a bandolier or belt and releasing them from their hand in one swift movement. The result is a rapid-fire release of projectiles, with the time between drawing and release almost non-existent.
Name: Speyside Fiddich
Rank: 2
Aspect: Shifting Trajectory
Description: The user throws a series of knives in varying arcs and directions, some of the projectiles will slowly arc back towards the opponent whilst others will more dramatically change their angle to suddenly swing in. Once these weapons are thrown, the wielder too will launch towards the opponent, effectively creating a multi-direction ed attack from which one cannot be sure from where the most lethal blow will come.
Background
"Who the feck do ye' think I be?"
Mag is from a backward part of the North Blue, just another island among a sea of near-similar islands. He was raised by a single father, his mother having died in childbirth, on your run-of-the-mill sheep farm. That remained the status quo for his first ten years of life, until it all changed when a plague struck the small village in which he grew up. Within a single season, the entire herd were struck down by the pestilence. Without profit, the bank foreclosed on the farm and Mag and his father, Maguire Sr., were forced to move to the big city for work. Mag's father got a job on the dock, and was out of the house for near all of his time. Mag, bored out of his mind and not wishing to follow in his father's footsteps, allowed for his path to sway from the straight and narrow. He would run with the usual juvenile delinquent gangs, drink heavily with his friends, and get involved with near constant street fights. By all means, his father did not approve, but he lacked the will to bring his wayward son into line, the tragedies of his life had broken him.
By the time Mag was 17, his father was but a shell of a man, and Mag was increasingly restless. One summer night, while attempting to steal bottles of whisky from the local pub, he was caught and thrown into the town's meagre jail for a couple of weeks as punishment. When he came out, his father seemed to have grown a backbone overnight and forced the wayward lad to come to work with him on the dock. For a near six-months, Mag would toil away to make a living, and he loathed every minute of it. The sole respite he gained from the arduous work was the drunken revelry and brawls that would come with his fellow workers after shifts. The greatest thing he gained from the experience, however, would be the uneasy respect garneredd for his father and his efforts to raise him.
Life would change for Mag when an obvious pirate crew pulled into their backward island for repairs. They did not fly the black flag, but their behaviour and mannerisms made it obvious who they were. Without a word, Mag would slip away with them in the night, promising to work their deck in exchange for passage. A single note detailing a simple apology he would leave his father, before he slipped from his hometown with naught a second thought.
From there, Mag would jump between crews for the next seven years, across all four blues, and under a number of different captains, of different styles and temperaments. He learned the basics of how a ship functions, but through it all he would not change as a man. He spent most of his so-called learning experience, drinking and fighting. To the point that he spent two years with a no-name crew in the North Blue, just to learn how to brew the perfect barrel of ale whilst sailing the seas.
Now, Mag sets out on his true mission. To obtain fame and wealth beyond any of his wildest imaginations.
Adventure Log
"Moi tales will wow an' shock."
"Moi tales will wow an' shock."
Prologue - Adrift in the Orient