Post by katie on Oct 7, 2007 15:04:55 GMT 10
Name: Maverickson Felicity Iocundus
Nicknames: Mav, Crazy Mav, The Generally Agreeable Gypsy (GAG)
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Allegiance: Drifter.
Weapons of Choice: Double umbrellas. Both of them were gifted to her by a friend, Zan'si Blackthorn, and they have been lovingly nicknamed 'The Double Entendre'. Their individual names are 'Erstwhile' and 'Deuce', and they are reinforced with metal, bayonets lining the tips for nifty stabbing abilities. ^~
Pet: She has a rock named Miffles. It's supposedly a good luck charm, but seriously, who knows. She's probably just weird.
Inn: N/A
Ship: N/A
Wings: N/A
Appearance: Mav's a tall, borderline-curvy gal with flame-orange hair and tanned skin, black lines and curls tattooed all over her body. Her eyes are a bright, joyful blue, and her teeth are overly sharp-- almost feline.
Clothing:
Mav wears a lavender-blue bustier and a dark purple skirt that ends at her knees, slitted up both sides. Underneath that skirt are a pair of long black leggings that come to below her knees, and she has boots that lace up to her kneecaps. Both her skirt and bustier are adorned with a peculiar sigil of a golden eye-- the Eye of Tallus, the god she worships.
Around her waist is a belt with pockets overflowing it (sort of like a peculiar utility belt). The pockets range in size and shape and there are quite a few nifty things inside-- usually silly little trinkets and things that would come in handy in obscure situations. (lockpick, ball of string, etc)
Personality: Mav's a lighthearted sort of gypsy. She enjoys pulling pranks on people, doing random good deeds and standing on her head when the weather allows for it. She has always been bound in service to her god Tallus (a minor deity, patron god of Gypsies where she comes from) and as such has a lot of almost stoic faith in the world.
Style of fighting: Mav absolutely detests modern weaponry. Her umbrellas are all she needs-- she can flick them open to be used as shields, or she can close them so they're like spears. They can be used to club people's heads in, or hook their ankles up and trip 'em. When you think about it, they're the perfect weapon!
Strengths: Mav is extremely fast. Hideously fast. What she lacks in strength she makes up for with her almost catlike speed. On top of that she is very nimble, on level with a gymnast- backrolls, handsprings, that sort of thing come easily to her within reason.
Weaknesses: Mav has very little actual body strength. If someone were to crush her or hold her down, she'd have little ability to defend herself.
She is also dead afraid of fish and small animals. The fuzzier and cuter the animal, the more Mav will flee in fear.
Likes: Warm fireplaces, hot cocoa, marshmallows, pulling pranks, making people happy, baked goods, presents, fireflies.
Dislikes: Rain, intense cold, serious people, people with no sense of humor and large egoes, military men (her favourite targets. >D)
Other: Mav speaks with a mix of strange accents. Whether they came from the local lands or are made up, it is hard to discern. OOCly, the closest comparison is probably French/German/London Cockney.
Role-Play Sample: [This is from a live RP, but... I guess it'll do as a roleplay post, I hope?]
Maverickson sits at the edge of the balcony of the tavern, about twenty feet up from those chatting below. Giving a devious grin-- absolutely wicked-- she tugs her orange hair over one shoulder and waits for a swell in the conversation, giving her enough time to hoist her bucket up with both hands wrapped securely around the handle. It takes all of her strength to get it up with her as she steps onto the balcony's edge and balances there precariously.
'Thanks," says the tavernkeeper. "Those mangy sellswords been cloggin' up my tavernfront wiv' their loud talk an' loud women all evening."
"Z'at is z'e least I kin do fuhr you, monsieur," she replies to him with a wry smirk, at last taking careful aim and upending the bucket of freezing cold water. Little chunks of ice are even floating in it.
a moment passes in which the water makes its slow-- or rather, not so slow-- descent towards the men grouped below. But then it splashes all over them. There is a moment of complete silence, and then...
"EY! WENCH! GIT YER PRETTY FACE O'ER HERE S'WE KIN TAN YER HIDE!"
Mav sticks out her tongue, crosses her eyes and pokes her thumbs into her ears, waggling all her fingers. "Z'EN COME UND GET MEY!" she shouts right back, and then makes for the roof. "I weel be back at z'eh taveurn lateur on to-nite, monsieur keeper!" she calls as she flits over the top of it, umbrellas clinking at her sides as she begins skirting from rooftop to rooftop, the thugs giving chase in the streets below. And with that, the tavern doors are cleared!
A storm's coming, don'cha know. ;D
Nicknames: Mav, Crazy Mav, The Generally Agreeable Gypsy (GAG)
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Allegiance: Drifter.
Weapons of Choice: Double umbrellas. Both of them were gifted to her by a friend, Zan'si Blackthorn, and they have been lovingly nicknamed 'The Double Entendre'. Their individual names are 'Erstwhile' and 'Deuce', and they are reinforced with metal, bayonets lining the tips for nifty stabbing abilities. ^~
Pet: She has a rock named Miffles. It's supposedly a good luck charm, but seriously, who knows. She's probably just weird.
Inn: N/A
Ship: N/A
Wings: N/A
Appearance: Mav's a tall, borderline-curvy gal with flame-orange hair and tanned skin, black lines and curls tattooed all over her body. Her eyes are a bright, joyful blue, and her teeth are overly sharp-- almost feline.
Clothing:
Mav wears a lavender-blue bustier and a dark purple skirt that ends at her knees, slitted up both sides. Underneath that skirt are a pair of long black leggings that come to below her knees, and she has boots that lace up to her kneecaps. Both her skirt and bustier are adorned with a peculiar sigil of a golden eye-- the Eye of Tallus, the god she worships.
Around her waist is a belt with pockets overflowing it (sort of like a peculiar utility belt). The pockets range in size and shape and there are quite a few nifty things inside-- usually silly little trinkets and things that would come in handy in obscure situations. (lockpick, ball of string, etc)
Personality: Mav's a lighthearted sort of gypsy. She enjoys pulling pranks on people, doing random good deeds and standing on her head when the weather allows for it. She has always been bound in service to her god Tallus (a minor deity, patron god of Gypsies where she comes from) and as such has a lot of almost stoic faith in the world.
Style of fighting: Mav absolutely detests modern weaponry. Her umbrellas are all she needs-- she can flick them open to be used as shields, or she can close them so they're like spears. They can be used to club people's heads in, or hook their ankles up and trip 'em. When you think about it, they're the perfect weapon!
Strengths: Mav is extremely fast. Hideously fast. What she lacks in strength she makes up for with her almost catlike speed. On top of that she is very nimble, on level with a gymnast- backrolls, handsprings, that sort of thing come easily to her within reason.
Weaknesses: Mav has very little actual body strength. If someone were to crush her or hold her down, she'd have little ability to defend herself.
She is also dead afraid of fish and small animals. The fuzzier and cuter the animal, the more Mav will flee in fear.
Likes: Warm fireplaces, hot cocoa, marshmallows, pulling pranks, making people happy, baked goods, presents, fireflies.
Dislikes: Rain, intense cold, serious people, people with no sense of humor and large egoes, military men (her favourite targets. >D)
Other: Mav speaks with a mix of strange accents. Whether they came from the local lands or are made up, it is hard to discern. OOCly, the closest comparison is probably French/German/London Cockney.
Role-Play Sample: [This is from a live RP, but... I guess it'll do as a roleplay post, I hope?]
Maverickson sits at the edge of the balcony of the tavern, about twenty feet up from those chatting below. Giving a devious grin-- absolutely wicked-- she tugs her orange hair over one shoulder and waits for a swell in the conversation, giving her enough time to hoist her bucket up with both hands wrapped securely around the handle. It takes all of her strength to get it up with her as she steps onto the balcony's edge and balances there precariously.
'Thanks," says the tavernkeeper. "Those mangy sellswords been cloggin' up my tavernfront wiv' their loud talk an' loud women all evening."
"Z'at is z'e least I kin do fuhr you, monsieur," she replies to him with a wry smirk, at last taking careful aim and upending the bucket of freezing cold water. Little chunks of ice are even floating in it.
a moment passes in which the water makes its slow-- or rather, not so slow-- descent towards the men grouped below. But then it splashes all over them. There is a moment of complete silence, and then...
"EY! WENCH! GIT YER PRETTY FACE O'ER HERE S'WE KIN TAN YER HIDE!"
Mav sticks out her tongue, crosses her eyes and pokes her thumbs into her ears, waggling all her fingers. "Z'EN COME UND GET MEY!" she shouts right back, and then makes for the roof. "I weel be back at z'eh taveurn lateur on to-nite, monsieur keeper!" she calls as she flits over the top of it, umbrellas clinking at her sides as she begins skirting from rooftop to rooftop, the thugs giving chase in the streets below. And with that, the tavern doors are cleared!
A storm's coming, don'cha know. ;D
