Post by redwing on Nov 26, 2007 14:14:45 GMT -5
Your Name: Redwing
Character's Name: Alwyn Fletcher (goes by "Fletcher")
Age and Birthday: 41, March 12
Race: Tortallan
Social Standing: Commoner, lower class
Profession: Dog (Night Watch), assigned to Lower City
Place of Residence: At present, rents rooms in Lower City, Stormwing Street
Magic (if applicable): None. Fletcher dislikes what he sees as a tendency for mages to become arrogant with regards to their powers. However, he will reserve judgment on individual mages, until he has seen how useful/dangerous they can be. This does not apply to more academic mages, whom he views as useless.
Family: Has a sister in Patten District, employed as a weaver. She is married, with several children. Fletcher visits them on the holidays. He also has an illegitimate son, Jak, aged 20, currently a rusher with the Court of the Rogue. Fletcher was not the most responsible of fathers; after his son was about two, they no longer lived in the same house. When he was in sober, more responsible periods, Fletcher visited regularly, and helped pay for food and clothing for Jak. When he was back to drinking, he visited irregularly, and after Jak was about 12, usually ended up taking him to taverns. Fletcher would have liked his son to be a soldier or a Dog, but feels he could have made worse choices than the Rogue. Fletcher is no longer close to Jak's mother, although they were together for several years. At the moment, Fletcher is single, although he is engaged in an ongoing flirtation with a Lower City shopkeeper (who admits to having terrible taste in men).
Physical Description: Average height, rather scrawny, although stronger than he looks. He has dark hair, going gray, which he wears to his shoulders, and usually sports several days worth of stubble. When not in uniform, he favors plain, somewhat worn shirts and breeches. Fletcher has a number of scars, most notably one on his left cheek and temple. His nose has clearly been broken several times, and he is missing several teeth.
Personality: Fletcher is a cynic, above all. Nearly two decades as a Dog have confirmed his initial suspicions that people are not, as a rule, good. One of the things he likes about being a Dog is that the job gives him ample opportunity to beat up those who truly deserve it. He believes that those problems that can't be solved by the baton can be solved by the bottle. Fletcher is incapable of settling down; he moves from one set of rooms to another frequently, and while he is fond enough of his son, he played a very small role in his upbringing.
History: Fletcher might be held up as the epitome of the crooked Dog. He cheats at cards and dice, enjoys his bribes, and has nearly as many friends on the wrong side of the law as he does on the right. His price is fairly low, and applies broadly; he will look away from most petty crimes, and all theft. He is inclined to give his son even more leeway in criminal activity, although this situation has yet to come up (right now, Jak would rather not rely on one of the most unreliable Dogs). He stays a Dog out of some sense of duty that he can’t quite fathom, but has been permanently assigned to Night Watch, as a result of his drinking. His drinking has yet to get anyone killed, but it has complicated a few things. Since he attempts to stay sober on duty, he hasn't been pushed out of the Dogs, but since he periodically fails in this endeavor, he remains on Night Watch.
Fletcher is the illegitimate son of a soldier and a maid. Initially, he followed his father into soldiering, but was soon drummed out of the ranks for disorderly conduct. He spent several years drinking in the Lower City, before deciding to turn his life around and become a Dog. He has since relapsed into many of his old habits. He is partnered with Callum Larkin (“Larkin”), another old-timer, who while not as crooked as Fletcher is just as world-weary.
Role Play Sample: Fletcher slouched into the Kennel at the end of his shift. He and Larkin seemed to be the last of Night Watch to return; the sun was fairly high in the sky, and most of Day Watch had already gone on duty. Those who remained raised eyebrows and wrinkled noses as the two passed. Fletcher scowled. He knew perfectly well that he reeked of garbage. The scummerknobs had thrown him onto the pile in mid-fight. He smirked at the memory. He may have smelled of garbage, but his arm wasn’t broken. Nor was his leg or skull. Fletcher did love the weight of a good baton.
In the mostly deserted changing room, Fletcher grabbed his uniform bag, and pulled out a bottle of ale, which he half drained. He sighed. That felt better. Now, off to get cleaned up, and mayhap sleep a bit.
Leaving the kennel, Larkin saluted him, and walked off towards his home. Fletcher didn’t have any sort of bath in the rooms he rented these days. Instead, shading his eyes from the sun, he made for the Dog’s bathouse on the corner.
Character's Name: Alwyn Fletcher (goes by "Fletcher")
Age and Birthday: 41, March 12
Race: Tortallan
Social Standing: Commoner, lower class
Profession: Dog (Night Watch), assigned to Lower City
Place of Residence: At present, rents rooms in Lower City, Stormwing Street
Magic (if applicable): None. Fletcher dislikes what he sees as a tendency for mages to become arrogant with regards to their powers. However, he will reserve judgment on individual mages, until he has seen how useful/dangerous they can be. This does not apply to more academic mages, whom he views as useless.
Family: Has a sister in Patten District, employed as a weaver. She is married, with several children. Fletcher visits them on the holidays. He also has an illegitimate son, Jak, aged 20, currently a rusher with the Court of the Rogue. Fletcher was not the most responsible of fathers; after his son was about two, they no longer lived in the same house. When he was in sober, more responsible periods, Fletcher visited regularly, and helped pay for food and clothing for Jak. When he was back to drinking, he visited irregularly, and after Jak was about 12, usually ended up taking him to taverns. Fletcher would have liked his son to be a soldier or a Dog, but feels he could have made worse choices than the Rogue. Fletcher is no longer close to Jak's mother, although they were together for several years. At the moment, Fletcher is single, although he is engaged in an ongoing flirtation with a Lower City shopkeeper (who admits to having terrible taste in men).
Physical Description: Average height, rather scrawny, although stronger than he looks. He has dark hair, going gray, which he wears to his shoulders, and usually sports several days worth of stubble. When not in uniform, he favors plain, somewhat worn shirts and breeches. Fletcher has a number of scars, most notably one on his left cheek and temple. His nose has clearly been broken several times, and he is missing several teeth.
Personality: Fletcher is a cynic, above all. Nearly two decades as a Dog have confirmed his initial suspicions that people are not, as a rule, good. One of the things he likes about being a Dog is that the job gives him ample opportunity to beat up those who truly deserve it. He believes that those problems that can't be solved by the baton can be solved by the bottle. Fletcher is incapable of settling down; he moves from one set of rooms to another frequently, and while he is fond enough of his son, he played a very small role in his upbringing.
History: Fletcher might be held up as the epitome of the crooked Dog. He cheats at cards and dice, enjoys his bribes, and has nearly as many friends on the wrong side of the law as he does on the right. His price is fairly low, and applies broadly; he will look away from most petty crimes, and all theft. He is inclined to give his son even more leeway in criminal activity, although this situation has yet to come up (right now, Jak would rather not rely on one of the most unreliable Dogs). He stays a Dog out of some sense of duty that he can’t quite fathom, but has been permanently assigned to Night Watch, as a result of his drinking. His drinking has yet to get anyone killed, but it has complicated a few things. Since he attempts to stay sober on duty, he hasn't been pushed out of the Dogs, but since he periodically fails in this endeavor, he remains on Night Watch.
Fletcher is the illegitimate son of a soldier and a maid. Initially, he followed his father into soldiering, but was soon drummed out of the ranks for disorderly conduct. He spent several years drinking in the Lower City, before deciding to turn his life around and become a Dog. He has since relapsed into many of his old habits. He is partnered with Callum Larkin (“Larkin”), another old-timer, who while not as crooked as Fletcher is just as world-weary.
Role Play Sample: Fletcher slouched into the Kennel at the end of his shift. He and Larkin seemed to be the last of Night Watch to return; the sun was fairly high in the sky, and most of Day Watch had already gone on duty. Those who remained raised eyebrows and wrinkled noses as the two passed. Fletcher scowled. He knew perfectly well that he reeked of garbage. The scummerknobs had thrown him onto the pile in mid-fight. He smirked at the memory. He may have smelled of garbage, but his arm wasn’t broken. Nor was his leg or skull. Fletcher did love the weight of a good baton.
In the mostly deserted changing room, Fletcher grabbed his uniform bag, and pulled out a bottle of ale, which he half drained. He sighed. That felt better. Now, off to get cleaned up, and mayhap sleep a bit.
Leaving the kennel, Larkin saluted him, and walked off towards his home. Fletcher didn’t have any sort of bath in the rooms he rented these days. Instead, shading his eyes from the sun, he made for the Dog’s bathouse on the corner.