Post by Philip Swift on Jun 6, 2011 20:20:34 GMT -8
BEHIND THE QUOTES
NAME; Swift
AGE; 17
ROLE PLAY EXPERIENCE; 7 years (though before I was 13, it doesn’t really count, as it was with friends, not on proboards)
HOW'D YOU FIND US; ad… somewhere.
MEANS OF CONTACT; PM please; if you want to IM me, PM me to ask for my name
OTHER COMMENTS; HI.
IN THIS SKIN
FULL NAME; Philip Samuel Swift
ALIAS; various nicknames used by disdainful pirates, ie., cleric, missionary, etc.
GENDER; Male
BIRTH DATE / AGE; December 8th 1716; 22 years old
ALLIANCE; God.
POSITION AND RANK; N/A
SHIP;(if captain) Currently on the Queen Anne’s Revenge, against his will.
PERSONALITY
Philip is a typical clergyman: idealistic, sometimes naïve, gripped by passion for the things he loves, extremely loyal and faithful to a fault, sometimes arrogant and close-minded to beliefs other than his own and thinking that his own beliefs are the only way. This is Philip in a nutshell. He believes that every soul can be saved, and though he thinks that there is good in all people, he also believes that anyone can be evil, which is why he believes it all the more imperative that every soul be saved. He is very determined to spread his faith to those who would like to learn it, though he has never tried to force his beliefs on others (something which some other missionaries may be guilty of).
Unlike other clergyman, though, he is a bit more tolerant of those who do not share his beliefs, because, as a missionary, he has seen many belief systems. Of course he does not believe those other faiths are right, because he is so strong in his own and if he was going to convert he would have done so already instead of trying to convert others. He still tries to show people the light of Protestant Christianity, but he realizes that there are other schools of thought in the world, and is tolerant of them and curious about them. Because he was an avid reader as a child of more than just the Bible, he is inquisitive about many things and has an active imagination. He has always been fascinated by tales, not just of David and Goliath, but of mythical creatures and warriors and faraway realms across the sea.
He sometimes acts impulsively, especially showing his short temper if someone insults his faith or if he sees a person hurting someone else. He is generally a quiet, gentle man, but can be firm when it is needed. He cares for others deeply and empathizes especially with the downtrodden and poor and unfortunate. He would sacrifice himself to help someone else. He does not fear death, as he knows where he is going, and maintains a sense of trust and hope in the future because of his belief in salvation and eternal life. His faith has shaped his view of the world and his way of life, past, present, and future.
PHYSICAL APPEARANCE;
Philip is rather handsome, with bright clear green eyes in an honest face, sandy light brown hair that is kept cut reasonably short so that it curls gently down just past his ears and a little of the back of his neck, barely long enough to be tied back. His features are open; thin lips, small nose, sharp cheekbones. He is tall and slender, but muscular enough to do some manual labor, as he has often been required to do as a missionary when he helps build houses and such.
He dresses simply and comfortably, usually in dark trousers, boots, and a loose white shirt, and can never be seen without the wooden cross on a leather cord around his neck. He looks a bit worn because of his time on the sea, but there is passion and kindness in his eyes in spite of his experiences. His posture is normally open and welcoming, though he has had to be more wary lately. He always carries a Bible, a simple black leather-bound one that has survived many sea journeys and been read to many souls in need of salvation.
HEIGHT; 5 feet 11 inches
WEIGHT; 140 pounds
HAIR COLOR; brown
EYE COLOR; green
ANY SPECIAL MARKINGS; none
WHAT'S YOUR STORY, SAILOR
FAMILY;
Father: Samuel Swift; mother: Sarah Swift; sisters Mary Swift, Elizabeth Swift; brother John Swift
BACKGROUND;
For as long as he can remember, Philip’s life has been filled with the Holy Spirit. His religion has been his lifestyle since he was a child, and his faith was never severely tested. He was raised in a comfortable lifestyle with a normal, average family (hardworking father, loving mother, happy brothers and sisters) who took care of him and taught him to be kind. Their circumstances were not wealthy but they were easy, and he never faced any hardship aside from the occasional want of money. There was always food on the table and a roof over his head. Still, his parents wanted better for him than what they had. His father was a vicar, and as such, he encouraged his son to read works of theology, to better himself and strengthen his own faith, so that he might share his faith with others.
Rather than feeling inspired to be a stationary vicar like his father, the books he read gave Philip the idea of traveling. He was determined to be a missionary and take the gospel to the ends of the Earth. Having lived in comfort, he had never questioned the existence of a beneficent and merciful God, and he wanted others who had not been so fortunate to be told about God as well. Even when he became a missionary, he never met much resistance; he traveled to remote islands where the people were uneducated and pliant. They were easily persuaded out of their poverty to convert to the religion that promised them spiritual wealth and eternal happiness at the end of their sad, short lives, and they were gladdened to have the medicine that Philip brought and the proper shelters he helped build for them.
The first time he encountered cruel resistance to his faith was in Blackbeard, who captured a ship he was on journeying from one island to another to continue his mission, but his trust in God was not unrewarded: his life was spared by Angelica, who was indeed his guardian angel at that moment, because she wished for him to save his father’s soul. He endeavored to do so, but found quickly that Blackbeard possessed cruelty and supernatural abilities that were unlike any he could have imagined. Still, he had to believe that every soul could be saved. It was the reason that he had become a missionary in the first place. So he bore his persecution quietly, the way Christ and the apostles had borne theirs, and prayed for the souls on the Queen Anne’s Revenge, for it was all he could do.
AND BEYOND
PORTRAYED BY; Sam Claflin
PICTURE; Click
ROLE PLAY EXAMPLE;
as Will Turner on another pirates site Will clenched his jaw when she called him Willy. He was not a child, but she seemed very intent on treating him like it. Fine, then. If he was fortunate enough perhaps she would continue to treat him like a child, and then she would leave him alone and unharmed after that. When she began talking about herself, it was all he could do not to heave a great sigh of annoyance. It seemed as though she thought very highly of herself, which he supposed was expected. Some of these prostitutes were quite uppity, which was strange considering the type of living they made was actually the very lowest sort of work. But it took all kinds. He wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or a bad one that the woman did not seem at all ashamed of being a prostitute, but she must have been a… popular one if she assumed automatically that he knew who she was. He hadn’t been to Tortuga much, but apparently it was filled with people like this (he could have guessed without coming here again; he had seen quite enough his first time), all of whom were unabashedly immoral. Or did she even belong here in Tortuga? Well, of course she did, being who she was, but what he meant was if she belonged in Tortuga, why did she say that she was a terror of the sea? He didn’t think that prostitutes were supposed to be terrifying, except in his own mind because of their sinful ways.
…Oh. Oh. If he had not been embarrassed before (and he had been, mind you), he was now. Never before had he made such a great case of mistaken identity. She was not a prostitute at all, but rather a captain of a ship, and a very ruthless captain of a very feared ship, at that. He didn’t know a lot about her, but she certainly sounded intimidating. And he thought he might have recalled hearing something about her, mentioned by the crew, at least once before. It might have even been last time they were here, actually, when Jack had come to search for his crew and gather them together again. Will wouldn’t have really been surprised. But he was surprised that there was a woman captain, especially since she was apparently called the Widow. This didn’t really frighten him in itself, because he didn’t think she was going to kill him, but he got to wondering whether or not she was a widow, whether she created widows, or both. He supposed it didn’t really matter; the point was, she had the name for a reason. Pirates weren’t really the sort who just flattered needlessly. Pirates did many things needlessly, but giving out nicknames was not one of these things. Every name meant something, because really, their names were all that they had, because most of the money they got from treasure (when they got it, which was rare) was quickly spent on rum.
“Ah, er, yes,” he managed, not too smoothly. “Of course I know who you are.” It wasn’t a total lie; only a partial one. He had heard of her, after all. But in any case, he was not willing to offend her, especially now that he had heard her nickname. And he was still sort of hoping that he could make it up to her that he’d thought she was a prostitute. Being a pirate wasn’t much better, but all the same, he felt bad that he had made such mistakes about her not once, but twice, and he’d only been with her for a few moments already. At least she didn’t know what he was thinking. If she did, then he really would have been in trouble. It wasn’t like she had secret magical powers, or anything. He expected he was just being ridiculous. But there was something about the air here that just made Will a bit on edge. It was as if the atmosphere was tinged with alcohol, because the stuff flowed so freely around here, and simply breathing was getting rum into his system and tinging his senses with a bit of madness. Why he was feeling so odd, he did not know. Perhaps it could simply be attributed to the fact that he was on land again. But he knew that he really did not like being in this place. He couldn’t wait to leave. As much as he said this to himself, he was still here, but what could he do about it? Nothing.
As he began to feel more paranoid, the rum which he hated so much was beginning to seem more appealing. Perhaps drinking just a mug of it might numb him enough; take the edge off. He was far too nervous at the moment, and for all he knew, this widow lady could sense it. Could she smell fear? God have mercy, was he being ridiculous! He glanced down, as he did when he was particularly nervous or uncomfortable (of which he was currently both), and noticed that she was wearing bright yellow pants. Why he had not noticed this before, he did not know. He did a double take to confirm that she was, indeed, wearing such pants, fearing for a moment that he had begun to hallucinate. He needed a drink. That was the first time that he had thought such a thought, really, and he resented the fact that the widow had made him think it. Or maybe it was the town’s fault. Or maybe it was Jack’s – he had brought him here, after all. He really needed a drink. Perhaps it couldn’t hurt to keep the woman company. He wasn’t sure it was a good idea to escort her to the tavern, but if she was going there anyway, what was the harm in it, really? He would just make sure that she got there safely, have a drink, and then he would return to the ship and his mates and they would be off again.
He walked step-in-step with Morrigan – he wondered whether it was all right for him to call her that, or if she preferred to be called The Widow, or even some other name – as she passed by various people, all of whom made a point to greet her in some way. Will could see why he might have thought her a prostitute, because she was so popular here, but it made equal sense that she was simply an intimidating captain who came here often. The fact that she was a woman captain, and a very powerful one at that, automatically meant that she knew what she was doing, so of course a lot of people would respect her. He kind of knew how it felt, not getting the respect you deserved and having to work your way up the ranks. He was doing it right now, actually. When Morrigan asked what ship he was on, he answered with obvious pride, “The Black Pearl.” He figured it would be a bad idea to ask what ship she captained, since he had just claimed to know who she was (which would include which ship was hers). The tavern was now in sight; it had been a short walk, which wasn’t too surprising. Any disembarking pirate would want the tavern to be as close as possible, and then it would be bad to have a long stumble back to their boat once they were drunk. Will would not get drunk; he would just have enough to make him calm down a little. He gestured to the entrance, allowing Morrigan to go first: a proper gentleman. “After you,” he said, with a politeness that was certainly not necessary here.
…Oh. Oh. If he had not been embarrassed before (and he had been, mind you), he was now. Never before had he made such a great case of mistaken identity. She was not a prostitute at all, but rather a captain of a ship, and a very ruthless captain of a very feared ship, at that. He didn’t know a lot about her, but she certainly sounded intimidating. And he thought he might have recalled hearing something about her, mentioned by the crew, at least once before. It might have even been last time they were here, actually, when Jack had come to search for his crew and gather them together again. Will wouldn’t have really been surprised. But he was surprised that there was a woman captain, especially since she was apparently called the Widow. This didn’t really frighten him in itself, because he didn’t think she was going to kill him, but he got to wondering whether or not she was a widow, whether she created widows, or both. He supposed it didn’t really matter; the point was, she had the name for a reason. Pirates weren’t really the sort who just flattered needlessly. Pirates did many things needlessly, but giving out nicknames was not one of these things. Every name meant something, because really, their names were all that they had, because most of the money they got from treasure (when they got it, which was rare) was quickly spent on rum.
“Ah, er, yes,” he managed, not too smoothly. “Of course I know who you are.” It wasn’t a total lie; only a partial one. He had heard of her, after all. But in any case, he was not willing to offend her, especially now that he had heard her nickname. And he was still sort of hoping that he could make it up to her that he’d thought she was a prostitute. Being a pirate wasn’t much better, but all the same, he felt bad that he had made such mistakes about her not once, but twice, and he’d only been with her for a few moments already. At least she didn’t know what he was thinking. If she did, then he really would have been in trouble. It wasn’t like she had secret magical powers, or anything. He expected he was just being ridiculous. But there was something about the air here that just made Will a bit on edge. It was as if the atmosphere was tinged with alcohol, because the stuff flowed so freely around here, and simply breathing was getting rum into his system and tinging his senses with a bit of madness. Why he was feeling so odd, he did not know. Perhaps it could simply be attributed to the fact that he was on land again. But he knew that he really did not like being in this place. He couldn’t wait to leave. As much as he said this to himself, he was still here, but what could he do about it? Nothing.
As he began to feel more paranoid, the rum which he hated so much was beginning to seem more appealing. Perhaps drinking just a mug of it might numb him enough; take the edge off. He was far too nervous at the moment, and for all he knew, this widow lady could sense it. Could she smell fear? God have mercy, was he being ridiculous! He glanced down, as he did when he was particularly nervous or uncomfortable (of which he was currently both), and noticed that she was wearing bright yellow pants. Why he had not noticed this before, he did not know. He did a double take to confirm that she was, indeed, wearing such pants, fearing for a moment that he had begun to hallucinate. He needed a drink. That was the first time that he had thought such a thought, really, and he resented the fact that the widow had made him think it. Or maybe it was the town’s fault. Or maybe it was Jack’s – he had brought him here, after all. He really needed a drink. Perhaps it couldn’t hurt to keep the woman company. He wasn’t sure it was a good idea to escort her to the tavern, but if she was going there anyway, what was the harm in it, really? He would just make sure that she got there safely, have a drink, and then he would return to the ship and his mates and they would be off again.
He walked step-in-step with Morrigan – he wondered whether it was all right for him to call her that, or if she preferred to be called The Widow, or even some other name – as she passed by various people, all of whom made a point to greet her in some way. Will could see why he might have thought her a prostitute, because she was so popular here, but it made equal sense that she was simply an intimidating captain who came here often. The fact that she was a woman captain, and a very powerful one at that, automatically meant that she knew what she was doing, so of course a lot of people would respect her. He kind of knew how it felt, not getting the respect you deserved and having to work your way up the ranks. He was doing it right now, actually. When Morrigan asked what ship he was on, he answered with obvious pride, “The Black Pearl.” He figured it would be a bad idea to ask what ship she captained, since he had just claimed to know who she was (which would include which ship was hers). The tavern was now in sight; it had been a short walk, which wasn’t too surprising. Any disembarking pirate would want the tavern to be as close as possible, and then it would be bad to have a long stumble back to their boat once they were drunk. Will would not get drunk; he would just have enough to make him calm down a little. He gestured to the entrance, allowing Morrigan to go first: a proper gentleman. “After you,” he said, with a politeness that was certainly not necessary here.
PIRATES OR NINJAS; Pirates. If I didn’t think so, I wouldn’t be here, I’d be on a ninja site ;]
