"Marooned" Mick O'Malley

[Mausman]

Themesongs:








Basic Information
Name: "Marooned" Mick O'Malley
Aliases: None yet!
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age: 25
Profession: Sailor/ Navigator
Faction: None known

Accent: Common, accent (Mix betwixt Irish-like/ Cockney)

Physical Information
Height: 1m82
Weight: 75 Kilograms
Body build: Lean, toned.
Skin type: Rough
Hair style: Ponytail, brown
Eyes: Bright blue
Skin: Caucasian.
Body-markings: His right arm is covered in a coloured "sleeve" that consists of a raging sea, a portrayal of Umberlee shrieking in rage, whilst the right side of his arm reveals a sinking ship, the inner part of his arm reveals fishing ships with plentiful catch of fish.

His back sports a tattoo of a Brig, Ballistae firing. A banner underneath states: "Loose lips, sink ships"

Class and Likely Development: Swashbuckler/Rogue/Duelist

Presentation:
Whilst not unattractive, the man carries himself with a crude and odd behaviour to some. Charismatic, is what he most certainly is -not-.



Gear
Mick sports a simple looking rapier with Swept Hilt. At times he wears a red bandana.

His clothes are simple and often have stains of Ale on them, or...blood.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Flaming catapult projectiles hurled, wood splintered and men shrieked in pain once a fireball from enemy catapult blew up the hold of the "Impolite Knave".
Mick felt the water hit him in the back...a crude awakening as he slowly realised he was sinking and glanced up as he sank deeper and deeper underwater, watching volleys of ballistae arrows transpire above him. Adrenaline kicked in which caused him to struggle his way back up to the surface. He clung onto wooden board as he coughed up water and grunted.

He should have known better...three thousand for a simple rum run back and forth as navigator? it surely sounded too good to be true from the get-go, but hey, coin was coin, innit? As soon as he saw "The Grail of Anger" in the distance, he knew they were in trouble.

With the strength he had left, he paddled himself away from the carnage towards land. A deserted Island...

Days and nights passed. He was lucky there was some wildlife to hunt and eat...along with some plants that appeared edible. Juice of coconut sustained him, fluid wise, along with some moss on back of stones or on bark.

Sollitude began to gnaw at his sanity...so with nothing to loose, Mick attempted to salvage what remants had washed ashore. A make-shift flotsam was constructed after a gallow's meal. Mick was certain he was not going to survive this venture...and not a single drop of rum to dull himself...

He was lucky when a fishing boat caught sight of him and pulled him out of the water.

"Jus' sit tight, lad. Lucky ta be alive eh? We can get ya's as far as tha gate, then yer on yer own!"

And so it happened...with soggy boots, soaked clothing and next to nothing in his pocket.
The former navigator sat down and emptied his boots of water, his keen mind trying to figure out a way to at least survive another day

Goals: To find his way with a crew, work his way back onto his feet again and exact vengeance.


Possible hooks: Clearly, his venture was a set up. Perhaps the cargo was not rum at all, but something else. If anything, Mick is not pleased and wants wishes revenge or at least a way to get even with Captain and Crew of the Grail of Anger ( I have names etc on back up, but a DM can go carte-blance on me if they like!)

(( Anything goes on this character. He likey will attempt to seek fellow pirates/ sailors to find a new purpose with)

[Mausman]

I thought I heard the Old Man say:

"Leave her, Johnny, leave her."

Tomorrow ye will get your pay,

and its time for us to leave her.


Leave her, Johnny, leave her!

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her!

For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow

And it's time for us to leave her.


Oh, the wind was foul and the sea ran high

Leave her, Johnny, leave her!

She shipped it green and none went by.

And it's time for us to leave her.


I hate to sail on this rotten tub.

"Leave her, Johnny, leave her!"

No grog allowed and rotten grub.

And it's time for us to leave her.


We swear by rote for want of more.

"Leave her, Johnny, leave her!"

But now were through so we'll go on shore.

And it's time for us to leave her.

[Mausman]

Disclaimer, thou shalt not metagame, if you were not part of this event, your character does not know about this IC.



"NOW!"

The Bosun bellowed as he lead the charge onto the other ship. Taegh and Priestess Perle followed suit with their own battle-cries.

Enemy sailors, both green and veteran, found themselves overpowered by the three. Taegh, smirking like the cretin he is, easily cut and stabbed his opponents, Perle ensured to keep foes at bay with trident and shield. Mick, now unleashed his current potential. The Bosun moved swiftly, at times even appeared to vanish from sight.

An uneasy grunt was heard when the final veteran breathed his last. The seasoned sailor attempted to take the Bosun's life, but found himself outmatched by the flurry of parrying the Bosun displayed, once Mick noticed his foe was panting and gasping for air, exhausted, a firm thrust of Rapier in heart, ensured the older sailor's slumping into death's embrace.


"AWRIGHT! BREACH TH' HULL!" Mick dashed towards the hold and tossed in his smoke grenades, then pointed the tip of his rapier at the door of enemy crew's cabin "PRIESTESS! BARRICADE THAT DOOR!"

Perle, proving to be quite the fierce force in battle, lodged her Trident firmly to Ensure the door did not budge for the time being and prevented enemy crew from pouring out. Once Captain Karn and his group arrived, the door flew open, sending Mick, Perle and Taegh backwards. Alas, barricade had proven to be a funnel of death for the enemy crew, as they came out two by two, only to be met by Karn's frenzied wrath. Limbs were hewed and cries heard. The Bosun saw a grenade being tossed out, a flash-grenade no less, he averted his gaze when it exploded, then paid enemy crew back in kind, improved alchemist fire was thrown into cabin, which had the enemy Captain reveal himself, requesting a duel with Captain Karn in return for the lives of his crew.

Mick regarded his Captain and Captain of enemy vessel as they enaged in combat. Not exactly to his surprise, he witnessed how Karn hacked and hewed the Captain to a gory pulp.

Mick, after Captain's word, flourished a dramatic bow and threw firebomb into cabin of enemy, effectively snuffing what lives there were left...

[Mausman]

Take all the sentiments
Of a cold blooded cynic
So believe me when I say,
I would love nothing more.
Than for everything,
To end unpleasantly
Concrete shoes, rising tides,
Grey skies, Let none survive.
Go.
Don't say I didn't warn you.
I would rather see your face in Hell
Than speak another word
Of this perfect world.
I would rather see your face in Hell
Than speak another word
Of this perfect world, Ohh
Of this perfect world.
Oh, to be buried beneath the waves,
A sailors grave is all I crave.
Bury me (bury me),
5000 fathoms deep,
And leave my bones,
For the depths.
The serpent's teeth await our skin.
The serpent's teeth await...
Blood runs through,
Upon our worthless existence.
The Devil's teeth (the Devil's teeth),
The Devil's teeth,
Beneath our skin.
Whispering of silent vengeance.
Blood debts remain unpaid.
Now every breath of life
Has been betrayed.
Every ideal
Has rusted through.
Nothing we hold brings solace,
Feed us to the sharks.
So let nothing remain,
Feed us to the sea.
To be buried,
Beneath the waves.
A sailors grave it's all I crave.
Bury me (bury me),
5000 fathoms deep.
And leave my bones,
For the depths.
There's blood in the water,
(Sinking, always, sinking).
There's blood in the water,
(Sinking, always, sinking).
There's blood,
In the water.
I would rather see your face in Hell
Than speak another word
Of this perfect (bleeding) world.

[Mausman]

The young Bosun sat, perched upon the edge of one of the launches. His gaze roamed over the deck, the crewmembers doing their tasks and the sound of seaguls and waves that lapped at the ship.

People underestimated him..and that was precisely what he wanted. The crisp crackle of apple being bitten could be heard from his position.

Mickey the Workhorse, Mick the Lapdog, Mick the young Sailor...Mick the instigator of mutiny.

Mick was many things, yet only some of them were true. He liked to keep people guessing, it made him grin...

[Mausman]

(( Hai. Le Disclaimer. Kein Metagämmerung please, this is purely for story!)



"But! Commodore! the men will..." Mick spoke, teeth were gritted as he harshly was interrupted


"You -have- your orders, Private O'Malley!"

The Commodore barked at the young sailor. Mick dipped his head and proceeded on his way


"Are you certain your son is up for this, Angus? Sailing for the Crown, hunting pirate ilk?" A burly man in trappings of Commodore spoke in deep Baritone

"I'll keep my eye on him, Commodore. The boy is eager. He does not know any better than life on the high seas. He never will be able to settle for life aboard a schooner. He is a wildcard, yes. Brash, yes. But he knows how to tell wrong from right, Commodore. His place is with us on this Brig, hunting pirates...and putting them to the sword..."

Mick's father gave a solemn nod to the Commodore and offered a crisp salute

"Anything else, Sir?"


"No. Dismissed, Quartermaster."

[Mausman]

No Moon is there, no voice, no sound
Of beating heart; a sigh profound...


Mick's right hand trembled, firebomb ready...the numbers of undead were seemingly limitless.

All that mattered, was the code. Never run, never leave. In this together, blow them to smithereens, O'Malley!


Mick inhaled, gritted teeth and cast the ordnance over at the undead wizards, breaking his stealth.

Drowners picked up on both his appearance and scent once Mick revealed his presence. He ran for all he was worth, but alas, a well placed Avasculate forced bodily fluids out of young Sailor's skin, accompanied by agonized screaming. The soonest chance the young sailor could,
he slipped back into the shadows, cussing as he made his way to higher ground...

He noticed the vast numbers of undead advance on his sisters and brethren and took in his precise location and chances. If any undead would shift their focus onto him, he would have nowhere to go.

One shot, no second chances. The Bosun threw no less than dozen of the best available alchemist fires, two firebombs, five bombs of acid and a series of holy water vials upon the ranks of enemies. Watching how his family of crewmembers hacked into them as well and began to fling spells, blessed by Umberlee.

Alas, no less than eight drowners broke rank to charge at the young Bosun...this is it, Mick, don't get scared now, just parry and coat them with acid from that dagger you have...dissolve their bones, dissolve their attacks!

Two undead crippled, five undead crippled...The young Bosun was exhausted, ship had barely survived a storm grandfathered by Talos himself, a Sea Serpent no less ravaging the hull. And now, undead were nipping and clawing at him.

In the blink of an eye, Mick could not longer breathe...the image he saw, was akin to alluring women, pulling him into the very depths of his Queen's domain. Their faces twisted, contorted into demonic shapes, horrifying shrieks...clawing...then darkness

[Mausman]

A solemn ceremony was held on board the Seawolf when the crew made open water, far away from the accursed island. Five good men, some husbands and fathers now reduced to lifeless husks, were sewn into their hammocks and disposed of into the sea alongside their personal belongings. Karn spoke no words in parting, instead tossing a share of their latest haul overboard in deference to the Bitch Queen, as he once swore he would.

((Quote from Whistler's character, Captain Karn, credit where it is due!)


Mick did step up. He looked bleak. He was lucky Taegh had come for his body...even more lucky to be restored to life, taken back from the depths.

Not by all means talented in singing, the young Bosun cleared his throat and in his own way, said goodbye to the Sons of the SeaWolf.


"Oh all the money that e'er I had
I spent it in good company

And all th' harm that e'er I've done
Alas, it was to none but me

And all I've done for want of wit
Ta memory now I cannae r'call

So fill to me the partin' glass
Good night and joy be with you all

Oh all the c'mrades that e'er I've had
Are sorry fer my goin' away

And all the sweethearts that e'er I've had
Would wish me one more day t' stay

But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and ye should not

I'll gently rise and I'll softly call
Good night and joy be with you all
Good night and joy be with you all"

[Mausman]

After harsh words had been exchanged, interpretations of betrayal on various perspectives had been revealed, Mick made his decission after his former Captain spat his words to him

" 'course mate, think o' me whot ya will. I'll be doin' th' same vice versa. Agree ta disagree, eh?"

"Yer path will likely be one with r'nown, but shortlived. SeaWolf will b'come a slave-vessel. Good luck runnin' it, yer losin' one o' tha most capable Bos'n in these parts. Remembah tha' next time yer hull is gainin' watah by Sea-Serpent trashings, yeh?"

With flick of wrist, Mick cut the rope of foremast with acidic dagger, corroding it's wood as well and rendered it's sail useless. A final act of defiance from adopted protegé to father-figure.

One more glance was cast at the Bear of a man, then at Priestess whom rode on back of dragon. Disappointment lingered on Mick's face, before he made the dive into the Deep Blue...vanished out of sight in shade of Brig

[Mausman]

Mick lay onto shoddy bed within the Mermaid's walls. Pipe with a bulb of questionable substance lay on desk. The room was spinning, much to Mick's content. A slow whirlpool of calm...consuming him into a blissfull sleep. He had a plan and purpose still, he would be alright and then some...

The drugged haze was pleasant, akin a warm cloud he was drifting on in the middle of nowhere. Sleep claimed him with a smile on his face.

[Mausman]

Mick grunted and cussed as the broken bottle hit mark, namely his own face. He reached for the barstool and smacked his assailant with it, a rowdy dwarf whom now lay unconscious. He felt the blood running down his face. The Crimson liquid began to stain both his crevat and the wooden floorboards. With gritted teeth and bruised ego, Mick went to his room to see how bad it really was. It was bad...and it would leave him with a reminder. He was not invincible...