[hider=Jymson Fletcher] [center][b][i]Name :[/i][/b] Jymson Fletcher [b][i]Nicknames :[/i][/b] Jim, Sonny [b][i]Gender :[/i][/b] Male [i][b]Age and birthday :[/b][/i] 58, Summer 1244 [i][b]Origin :[/b][/i] A commoner, born of a mother who failed as a street peddler, and an unknown soldier. Has lived in Deliar his whole life, and has never ventured beyond the city's bounds. [i][b]Length and build :[/b][/i] Tall, around 6’1, broadened shoulders and muscular forearms. Legs appear less developed in terms of muscle than they should be, giving him an apparent top-heavy build. [i][b]Weight :[/b][/i] Very round around the midsection, with a flabby chest. 19 stone, coldly put. [i][b]Sexuality :[/b][/i] Straight as an arrow, but his interest in the womenfolk has gone down hill rapidly owing to his advanced age. ------------------------ [i][b]Appearances :[/b][/i] (I can find a picture, if needs be, but I prefer text to piffling someone else’s work) Tall, wide and ugly. These three words sum up Jymson Fletcher immaculately. He keeps his head shaven, but allows his heavily greying beard to grow as far as his chest. His nose is misshapen, owing to several bar brawls of which he is often the worse off for. His skin is pale beyond his neck and forearms, but the flesh that is usually on display has a tanned quality. His left eye is clouded over, owing to a drunken soldier’s reluctance to pay his tab. His right eye is a light blue, in homage to his once thick blonde hair. ------------------------ [i][b]Occupation :[/b][/i] Tavern Keeper ([b]The Boot Buckle[/b]) [i][b]Favorite phrase/saying :[/b][/i] “A drink, a drink, my Kingdom for a drink!” – Sarcastic response when dealing with frustrating people. “Noxios’s bowels!” – His favourite curse in dire situations. “You look like my ale tanks,” – When telling someone they look worse for wear. [i][b]Favorite Food :[/b][/i] Meat, meat and more meat. Poultry or cattle. Cheese too. [b][i]Favorite Weather and Season :[/i][/b] Winter. Jymson hates the heat, and hates working in it even more. [i][b]Patron God/Goddess :[/b][/i] Noxious – although his prayers and curses are almost always blasphemous. ----------------------- [i][b]Personality :[/b][/i] Jymson, for all of his flaws, is generally a very nice fellow. Common spoken, he melds well with the working classes that frequent his meager tavern. He is loyal to his peers, and holds the law in high regard – when it suits his life expectancy, that is. He treats women as if they were men, and men as if they were children, owing to his advanced age and long established indifference to the gender of his customers. [i][b]History :[/b][/i] Jymson Fletcher was born into a harsh world. As many like him. His mother, a seller of a local baker’s wears, hooked herself up with an Imperial soldier one fateful night. Nine months later, another child was born without a father. Jymson does not hold her lack of foresight against her memory, but is bitter on the subject of children, and does not wish to have any a result. At the age of 8, Jymson’s mother died of a pox. Not willing to enter the orphanages of the Holymen, he turned to the rough and dicey life of a street urchin until he was chanced upon by a local inn keeper. From the ages of 10 to 43, Jymson worked hard as a barkeep, and both his body and mentality reflect a lifetime spent in that environment. He is well versed in the brewing of ale, but has always steered clear of wine, believing it to be the foods of his social superiors. Over the course of his almost permanent internship, he won several local awards for the ales he brewed, which often brought him into conflict with the more established ale houses and breweries. Some of these conflicts were almost fatal to him, and so towards the end of his years, he has scaled back his operation and uses products manufactured by others. When the owner of the tavern passed, from natural causes no less, Jymson bought the place for everything he owned plus a small loan from the Imperial Bank – a loan he has struggled to pay back. Though business is theoretically booming, and he gets through enough ale and meat to astound other local establishments, the climbing interest rates the bank have placed upon him are becoming steeper to scale. He feels they’re doing this on purpose, to clear him out and put someone else in his place; though why he has no idea. Still, it has earned him a deep mistrust of the Imperial establishment – something he is not afraid to share with the loose mouths of his patrons. [i][b]Theme song :[/b][/i] This is new to me. [url=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jjbfW1xIV8]Whiskey in the Jar (Instrumental)[/url]. May be a bit too upbeat though, I’ll likely revise this at a future date if I find something a bit more sobering. --------------------- [i][b]Clothing and/or armor :[/b][/i] Usually found wearing a grimy white apron, with a bright green undershirt and black woollen trousers. He wears shin-high brown leather boots, full of holes and stories of a modest life. [i][b][u]Tools and weapons :[/u][/b][/i] ======= [b][u]Name :[/u][/b] Peace Keeper/Tax Collector [u][b]Description :[/b][/u] Jymson uses it to settle unruly customers, or to convince his debtors to pay their tabs. Keeps it under the bar, but sometimes has it hooked around his waist if he’s making a show of force. [i][b]Appearance :[/b][/i] A wide black frying pan, bigger than the average man’s head, it shows signs of heavy use, both from actual frying and metal-to-flesh contact. The handle is encased in wood. ======= [b][u]Name :[/u][/b] Father’s Conquest [u][b]Description :[/b][/u] Reminds Jymson that his life had no value to begin with, so why waste time valuing it now? [i][b]Appearance :[/b][/i] A soldier’s boot buckle, inscribed with the Legion and Cohort number of his father. ======= [b][u]Name :[/u][/b] Pewter Tankard with a sealable lid. [u][b]Description :[/b][/u] Jymson carries this everywhere. One can never tell where the next ale will come from. Of all his possessions, this is probably the most valuable – aside from his tavern. [i][b]Appearance :[/b][/i] A simple pewter tankard, that can be sealed to keep the beverage fresh and secure. ======= --------------------------------------- [b][u]Skill/Abilities :[/u][/b] Brew Master – Knows his way around fermentation. Seasoned Cook - His food wouldn't fit well in a royal court, but give him some rabbit breast and some grass, and you'll get something bearable and safe. Well Read – Can read well, and knows bits and pieces of other languages – dead, forgotten or very much alive. Natural Peace Keeper – A life spent in and running a tavern has given this oaf a few pointers at how to make enemies amicable to each other. Usually accomplished by adding good ale. Strong as an Ox – Though untrained with the use of a weapon, Jymson can swing anything with tremendous force, even at his advanced age. --------------------------------------- [i][b][u]Traits[/u][/b][/i] Physically Able - Despite being 58, a feat by any standards, let alone a lowly commoner, Jymson has kept much of his strength from his better years. However, the body being what it is, he tires quicker than his younger fellows, and there is no telling what shape his heart is in after over half a century of neglect. Friendly – Is warm to everyone, unless they prove to be rather nasty individuals or beyond reason. Sympathetic Understanding – Has time for troubled people, as he knows the realities of life are sometimes not down to those experiencing them. Drinks Like a Fish – Loves his ale, and has reached a stage of functioning alcoholism. Eats Like a Horse – Loves his meat and cheese. Very much so. [/center] [center][b][u] [i]I pledge loyalty and honor to the High Ruler of the Empire.[/i][/u][/b][/center] [/hider]