~General Information~Name Jeremiah Ludwig Blake
Gender male
Age 33
Member titleI'm not a fighter, I'm a bleeder.
FamilyMathias Blake // 67 // old git of a father
Lucinda Blake // 64 // Annoying nag of a mother
Peter Blake // 37 // Gods gift of a brother apparently
Moira Blake // 24 // Sweet but annoying sister
DescriptionEye color brown
Hair Color Brown
Height/Weight 6,1, 12st
Body Type normal
Other details he has a constantly tired look on his face
Celeb Claim Dylan Moran
Physical Description 
PersonalityDescription:: Jermiah feels thwarted in his own existance, he wanted to be a great writer, then a lawyer, then a bank clark, then a warlock, then a courtier...now he's a pirate. Not a bad gig for someone with few people skills, and less actual skills. He is generally insulting to everyone he meets, with very little patience for anyone, except maybe his captain who he tends to put up with. He likes nothing better than silence and being left well alone, something which he seldom gets on the ship, and as such he is very cantankerous. He tends to drink heavily as well, and thinks since his tipple of choice is wine its ok to be a raging drunk.
Jeremiah is, in his own words 'a bleeder not a fighter' he is fairly useless with the sword, save for holding it in both hands and swinging wildly, simply because he cant be bothered to work up enough bile to get involved in the battle. However if you push him pasty breaking point you wont like what comes out. He is nasty vindictive and has a sharp tongue that he loves to use to insult everyone within ear shot. No one is sacrisanct, everyone is open to insult... no matter what thier rank.
HistoryJeremiah was born in England, this fact alone is why Shakespeare keeps his useless ass on the ship. His family were annoyingly middle class, and Jeremiah was stuck in noman land between poverty and wealth, too rich to fit in with the working classes, and too poor for the rich. He tried his hand at school but soon gave up when his older brother seemed to be gods gift to humanity surpassing him in everything he tried to do. He did however dote on his little sister, who, while bugging him was good enough to read his moods adn leave him alone when he needed to be.
When he was 22 he left mortal Wall, crossing the divide into the realm of Stormhold, it was here he deicded he would try his hand a more mystical destiny, and again failed miserably unable to harness any magical ability due to his inate closemindedness. He turned to drink in a big way, spending most of his time in the slaughtered Prince in Wall. He heard from a cheap fence in the city that there was a ship looking for cheap workers in the skyports to the South. With no other prospects he set out to join the crew.
He took an instant dislike to the work, but mindfull of his own value (or lack there off) he stays on board, becoming more and more bitter, and lacking any real use on board. Redeamed only for the fact he can tell shakespeare stories about England and growing up there.
Special Skills of CharacterIt's all about you
Name or what you want us to call you Jerry, Jeremiah...what ever
Contact details: pm pls
Password:: EDITSample rp::Lady Laithwen had her head in a book, as she usually did, her blond tresses curtained her face from the hall way as she walked it blind. She knew this place like she knew herself, better she thought sometimes. She had played in these corridors, games of flight and fancy, where the young lady would pretend she was million miles away. Breaking into rooms she should not have been in, annoying the guards who were supposed to be controlling the young girl, a phase in her life that had long since passed in favor of her newer duties.
Her footsteps echoed off the cold stone walls, the book rested flat on her right hand, and she chewed the nail on the middle finger of her left hand in contemplation, hardly the vision of elfen grace expected of a Lady and Realtá of her familys barony. Her heavy weighted hem flowed around her feet, and the slight fur trim of the color kept what nip there might have been from her skin, not that her kindred could feel those changes in temperature,part of the reason they chose this cold place for thier home.
There were guests in the palace, she had heard the murmurs in the kitchen when she had been down earlier talking with Dunwan, the kindly cook she looked on as a mother. While no one seemed to know who the sudden guests were, she assumed they were something to interest her brother, and the young Elf had made herself scarce lest she be dragged into some awful meeting or other. She had enough of that at council.
So thats why she was here, on this quiet corridor of the diamond palace, her head musing the words that flowed from the page. She moved to the large dormer window on one side of the corridor and dropped onto the low seat, that looked out over the grounds of the castle, the fields and gardens of snowdrop, and the forest of pine in the near distance, the tips brushing the sky with pointed fingers.
She heard the murmurs frpm the drawing room, her fathers booming voice, her brothers low mumbling one, and she thanked the gods she was free from such mundane happenings. Free to sit at this window and think about life beyond it, beyond the mountain, and beyond the borders of their realm to the land beyond. While her poor brother would have to stay behind. They were probably meeting with some ridiculous suitor her father had arranged, his current drive to see her married was driving her mad.
Her brother was an obstinant creature, headstrong and brave, he would make a fine ruler, but her father had always been a man of 'belts and braces' as he liked to say, ensuring that Laithwen married and produced a child so as to ensure that there was at least one child of royal blood should her brother be wholly obstinant his whole life an refuse to marry. God forbid it should be left to a cousin, especially thier aunt Mithranda's idiot son, a boy so stupid that the strains of any menoldy no matter how simple were lost on him.
Part of her she supposed would settle down, but the stuff shirt and swaggering peacocks that came as suitors were not her taste she wanted someone of real depth if she was to spend the best part of 300 years with such a person, no, no empty vassal would do for that.She closed the book and leant back against the wall. She was thinking about the dream she had had. A great tree that grew, blossumed, bore fruit and withered before her eyes. What did it mean. What significance had she lost. It would take more thought, but for now her head ached.
WELCOME
