Difference between revisions of "Kilt Puppet"

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== Biography==
 
== Biography==
  
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A silloutte of a man, battered and beaten. His skin is weathered and burned, as only the sea can create. Behind him, a faltering path of footsteps across a windswept beach. A pool of blood where the man lays. In his right hand, a flintlock, it's load discharged. About his shoulder, a sheathe for a cutlass. Empty. The waves crash against the figure again and again, the salt water cleansing the body, even as it slowly kills him.  
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A man lay, battered and beaten. His skin is weathered and burned, as only the sea can create. Behind him, a faltering path of footsteps across a windswept beach. The sands stained of blood where the man lays. In his right hand, a flintlock, it's load discharged. About his shoulder, a sheathe for a cutlass. Empty. The waves crash against the figure again and again, the salt water cleansing the body, even as it slowly kills him.
  
 
Two figures along the beach. One, Stalkie McGroper, Bosun of the Sun God. The second, one Lady Merlot, Scribe of the Rising. Both obviously drunk, and both in low spirits. They pass the body without a second glance. Or maybe one glance. The one named Stalkie turns around. "No, it can't be." He starts to continue his walk, but stops and turns around. "He wouldn't be that stupid, would he?" Merlot's eyebrows raise from under her hat. "Friend?" "Aye." Like a sack of potatoes, the man name Stalkie picks up the unconscious man, unceremoniously throwing him over his shoulder. "Be a love and grab his flintlock, would you? And his 'at too. Can't go without that...." Without another word, the two turn, continuing their trek through the beach.
 
Two figures along the beach. One, Stalkie McGroper, Bosun of the Sun God. The second, one Lady Merlot, Scribe of the Rising. Both obviously drunk, and both in low spirits. They pass the body without a second glance. Or maybe one glance. The one named Stalkie turns around. "No, it can't be." He starts to continue his walk, but stops and turns around. "He wouldn't be that stupid, would he?" Merlot's eyebrows raise from under her hat. "Friend?" "Aye." Like a sack of potatoes, the man name Stalkie picks up the unconscious man, unceremoniously throwing him over his shoulder. "Be a love and grab his flintlock, would you? And his 'at too. Can't go without that...." Without another word, the two turn, continuing their trek through the beach.

Revision as of 17:58, 23 November 2007


Name: Kilt Puppet
Location: The Sun God
Rank: Coxswain




Noted Favors and Awards

2006

Captain Hawk - Favor for helping cleanup

Madam Cricket - Favor for helping cleanup

Captain Moon - Favor for helping cleanup

Captain Muttq - Favor for helping out

Rogues Picnic 2007 Frisbee Toss 1st Place

Biography

A man lay, battered and beaten. His skin is weathered and burned, as only the sea can create. Behind him, a faltering path of footsteps across a windswept beach. The sands stained of blood where the man lays. In his right hand, a flintlock, it's load discharged. About his shoulder, a sheathe for a cutlass. Empty. The waves crash against the figure again and again, the salt water cleansing the body, even as it slowly kills him.

Two figures along the beach. One, Stalkie McGroper, Bosun of the Sun God. The second, one Lady Merlot, Scribe of the Rising. Both obviously drunk, and both in low spirits. They pass the body without a second glance. Or maybe one glance. The one named Stalkie turns around. "No, it can't be." He starts to continue his walk, but stops and turns around. "He wouldn't be that stupid, would he?" Merlot's eyebrows raise from under her hat. "Friend?" "Aye." Like a sack of potatoes, the man name Stalkie picks up the unconscious man, unceremoniously throwing him over his shoulder. "Be a love and grab his flintlock, would you? And his 'at too. Can't go without that...." Without another word, the two turn, continuing their trek through the beach.


....to be con't.