[hider=Brass]
[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/f2ffd336-a306-46b3-9aa2-b5858ef43138.jpg[/img]

NAME: Brass Roseblood
HAIR COLOR: Brown, which is honestly quite boring, when you think about it.
EYE COLOR: Green, though what shade, changes with the light,
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES: It isn't really a 'feature', but he always has his sword with him.
SCARS AND BIRTHMARKS: None to speak of.

DESCRIBE A STRANGER'S FIRST IMPRESSION UPON MEETING THEM.
Brass, to those who haven't quite met him yet, could easily come off as arrogant, or a troublemaker. However, on appearances alone, he could appear to be a well-worn traveller, despite his youth, what with his leather coat and boots both being weathered by the road.

WHO ARE THEIR FRIENDS AND FAMILY? WHAT SORT OF PEOPLE DO THEY SURROUND THEMSELVES WITH?
None to speak of, I'm afraid. He's been alone in the world for a long time. The only one who [i]might[/i] be alive is his father, but Brass never knew the man, nor will he. Don't worry about it, though - he isn't lonely, not at all. There're a few innkeepers who know him by name - probably take pity on him, to be honest - and he can well afford to pay them for bed and board, maybe for a few nights at a time before he moves on. He wouldn't exactly call the people who played him in cards friends, though. Enemies, more like - he's been in enough scraps in the aftermath to know that some dice rollers don't take kindly to his 'luck'.

WHERE WERE THEY BORN? WHERE HAVE THEY LIVED SINCE THEN? WHERE IS HOME?
Brass was born inland, in a small town. He doesn't tell people where - because to him, it's a grave. He may as well have buried the whole town, as well as his mother.  Now, he's mostly looking for a new home - and he's always been drawn to the sea.

WHERE DO THEY GO WHEN THEY'RE ANGRY?
Angry isn't something you'll see Brass be. He doesn't need to go anywhere. He's fine, honestly. If he feels any 'angry' coming on, he buries it, deep down, where he's determined to let it stay.

WHAT IS THEIR BIGGEST FEAR? WHO HAVE THEY TOLD ABOUT IT? WHO WOULD THEY NEVER TELL?
Strangely enough, for his lifestyle, his greatest fear is dying. Dying alone and forgotten. But he isn't dying today. No, siree. He's not going to tell you about this, either. It's... it's not something you can easily confess.

DO THEY HAVE A SECRET?
Other than the ones you already know? No, he doesn't have many secrets to keep. But if you trust him with one, he'll be sure to add it to the list of ones he does.

WHAT MAKES THEM LAUGH OUT LOUD?
Now, that depends. What do you consider to be a loud laugh out? A joke? That'll earn you a smile or a chuckle. Losing to him in a game of cards? Perhaps a little more. You'd probably need to [i]really[/i] amuse him to get the full-blown belly laugh you're asking for, though.

HAVE THEY EVER BEEN IN LOVE?
One, once... but other than that, no. He's had his dalliances, from time to time. Women, men, both, neither - didn't matter. None of them were serious. He might give someone a second look, but no, no long-term crushes or relationships. That doesn't mean he'll never fall prey to it, however.

DESCRIBE THE THINGS THAT WOULD BE HARD FOR THEM TO PART WITH.
He doesn't really have that many material possessions - though, of the ones he does have, a good number of them are irreplaceable. His sword, his ring, and his jacket. The ring he wears is a memento of his mother - it was her signet ring, and even if it came down to selling it or starve, he'd go without food. His sword also came from her - though, it never belonged to her. It was a gift, for his last birthday with her. He might be more willing to sell that. And as for his jacket... well, it's a good jacket! He's had it for a while, and he's probably going to have it for a good while more.

LOOK DOWN AT THEIR FEET. DESCRIBE WHAT YOU SEE.
Well, his feet are in his boots, for one. About knee-high, good leather, that sort of thing. A flagstone floor - standard, for this establishment, if it's not wooden boards instead. Wooden table legs, chair legs. Yep, this is an inn. And he's sitting at a table. There's some golden light coming in through a window, somewhere - so it's either dawn or dusk. Probably dusk.

WHEN THEY THINK OF THEIR CHILDHOOD KITCHEN, WHAT SMELL DO THEY ASSOCIATE WITH IT? WHY DOES IT RESONATE?
Good smells. Puffy rice... and mince, maybe? A stew? He can't quite tell. And... a warm, nice smell. Mother. She was a good cook. Always making good food. He helped, from time to time. It certainly made it easier on her.

DESCRIBE ONE STRONG MEMORY THAT HAS STUCK WITH THEM FROM CHILDHOOD.
A memory? Hmm... it's probably... the girl. Brass was sitting up in a tree, in the garden, when he saw her across the way. She had golden hair, and it fell down over her shoulder in a long braid. She had just picked a flower - a lily? A rose? And when she smelled its perfume... the most beautiful of smiles lit her face. It wasn't a grin or a smirk, and she didn't bare her teeth... but, it was beautiful nonetheless.

WHAT DO THEY WANT MOST OF ALL?
Honestly... he doesn't know himself. I suppose that's what he's trying to find.

RIGHT NOW, IN THE FIRST MOMENT OF OUR STORY, WHAT IS THEIR BIGGEST PROBLEM?
The guy sitting across from him. They're playing a game of cards and dice, and both of them have placed large bets. The man across from him is a thug. Bullied his coin out of others, probably. And he's getting increasingly frustrated by his poor luck. Brass has been playing the game for what, an hour, now? The man'll probably accuse him of cheating, and normally, he might be right. Who doesn't? But this time, there's not a single card in his sleeve, nor a loaded dice. Just Lady Luck. And clearly she favours Brass in this case. Let's just hope the guy doesn't try to start anything, shall we? He might not look that pretty, but Brass would hate to ruin what little he already has.
[/hider]