Post by Swamps on Jan 3, 2013 9:10:18 GMT -5
"The imagination is man's power over nature."
-Wallace Stevens
Name: Mercutio Samirello Bolivano deFe
Age: 24
Race: Human (Humani)
Birth place: Lunaris, Samirello family ship
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 151lbs
Eye Color: Hazel
Hair Color: Brown
Appearance:
Mercutio is a slight man with low cheekbones and soft, friendly features. He has long shoulder-length brown hair and eyes of a similar shade. He possesses a friendly albeit slightly awkward smile that matches his character perfectly.
Although his clothing is often varied Mercutio is most often seen in his striking favourite jacket, an almost patchwork affair of vivid squares stuffed with swirling symbols and letters set within a swarm of concentric shapes. On the back of the jacket is a large dragon's eye, a symbol of good luck. Underneath the vibrant jacket Mercutio normally wears long-sleeved and low-cut shirts of chocolatey browns and blacks. Whilst his lower half reflects the colour of his shirt in the form of long trousers. On his wrist Mercutio wears a handmade bracelet of Krayt Dragon teeth and individual shards of a lustrous Krayt Dragon pearl, a memento of his father's successful career in trading.
Personality:
Mercutio is an intellectual and humorous individual who seems to be able to strike up friendships with just about anybody. He is friendly and although stifled by feelings of anxiety is a highly-skilled pilot. These feelings primarily concerning taking the lives of others in his hands and that of the incredible speeds and forces involved with flying. Regardless he recognises his talent and believes that despite his own fear he must exercise it. He is a dramatic soul and a lover of novels, plays and poetry and indeed often writes poetry in his spare time. He has been known, especially whilst he was working the Crimson Cave Club on Zeltros, to entertain friends with enthralling, blood-stirring tales of adventure, danger and suspense most often embellished but always exciting. Mercutio is, as he would say, 'a lover not a fighter' and despite knowing his way around a blaster would have to be given a very good reason to pull its trigger.
Profession: Pilot.
Equipment: A small and weathered notebook and several telescopic shot glasses.
Skills: Piloting, playing darts, telling stories, writing poetry, mixing drinks.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 7
Speed: 5
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 2
Melee Weapons: 2
Ranged Weapons: 6
Bio:
Mercutio Samirello was the child of a Humani couple and was born in the living quarters of their family ship, the Lunaris. His father, Ernesto, was a spice merchant and together with his family he traveled from system to system selling and trading spice. His mother, Silvari, was a dancer and actor and a vibrant soul who had married out of love and taught Mercutio and his twin sister Carlotta from an early age of epic tales and art. It was her that inspired their love of books and stage and the two would save their spare credits to buy second-hand books and holofilms at any chance they got. As twins the two spent many hours together playing, reading, sewing and being taught by their father and mother whilst their uncle Mabb piloted their ship. When not with his sister Mercutio, or Mercie as his sister called him, spent a lot of time with his uncle who whilst teaching him a little piloting discovered his incredible aptitude for flight and something else...
Mercutio was terrified of piloting a space craft. The thoughts of nothing but his own skill keeping a gigantic hulk of metal full of his dearest family from exploding or crumpling into an asteroid truly whilst travelling at often ridiculous speeds, honestly scared him. Despite his uncle's encouragement the fear remained and although his piloting continued to improve it never left him. Gradually however Mercutio began to pretend it had until his uncle was convinced he had overcome his fear. Proudly uncle Mab paraded him in front of his family and they applauded his success, whilst Mercutio smiled awkwardly knowing that it was a lie.
At the age of 13 Mercutio left the Lunaris for his aunt's (on his mother's side) ship, the Durendal. Whilst his mother had left her dancing and acting career behind to pursue love her sister, Tsura, had continued her career and established the Black Danse Troupe. The troupe traveled through the black and stopped wherever their entertainment would be appreciated, occasionally playing large, extravagant dance halls. The troupe was entirely female and held a variety of secondary professions such as seamstresses, fencers and a mechanic. Mercutio became their pilot and flew for them all of the years he stayed with them. Although initially distant from the girls they eventually warmed to him and he became good friends with most of them. It was during this time that he developed his incredible love with darts and card games, taking part in many drink-fuelled games whilst on the Durendal. Mercutio also attempted writing plays and choreographing dances for the troupe, finding more success in the former than the latter, and by the time his shadow years wereover the he was a fully credited member of the troupe. Despite his shadow years being over, he chose to stay on with the Troupe for a couple of years before at the age of 20 leaving them and visiting the infamously pleasurable planet of Zeltros.
On Zeltros Mercutio found a planet obsessed with pleasure and expression. This love of emotion and art was in no place more accentuated than in the Crimson Cave. The Cave was a small cabaret bar and one of the best on Zeltros, making it a hot spot for both tourists and locals. Mercutio discovered the Cave near the start of his time on Zeltros and fell in love with it. The jaunty, provocative melodies, heartwrenching and bloodstirring plays and powerful, emotive poetry quickly found a very special place in his heart. He visited the Cave almost every evening during his stay and, in a split-second decision, applied for a job in the Cave. It was only barwork but he didn't mind and quickly became popular in the club. The Zeltrons found his nomadic upbringing romantic and exotic and he often spent his evenings regaling stories across the bar. It wasn't soon after that he was awarded a small slot on stage where he would share fantastical tales of his journeys and recite his own poetry. Of course to a Zeltron words alone were not poetry and it was only with the pheromonal assistance of another Zeltron that he really captivated an audience. It seemed that Mercutio had found his place in the universe.
However dark thoughts stalked the bright streets of Zeltros, some of which concerned Mercutio... After two years of working and performing in the Cave he was quite famous amongst Zeltrons and tourists alike and in some cases more so than the previously renowned Zeltron poets, here being the crux of the problem. Before Mercutio had arrived Baldin Galahadrin was the club's premier poet (hell, even his name rhymed!) and enjoyed the lion's share of the limelight but when the Humani arrived thing changed. Mercutio's fame approached his and gradually eclipsed it, the club shifting Mercutio into Baldin's slot! The Zeltrons are a people of great emotion but this emotion is a two-way street and jealousy and anger are just as attractive as love or pleasure. Baldin Galahadrin was set ablaze with jealousy and rage at this Humani upstart and set out to dethrone his rival.
First, he worked harder than he ever had before. He poured his heart and soul into an epic poem called The Stallion which although receiving critical acclaim failed to knock Mercutio from his podium. The Zeltron, distraught and desperate, turned to crime and used his considerable wealth to hire an assassin. He ordered the assassin to first approach the Humani and give him a choice: he could leave Zeltros with his wealth and his life or he could die. Faced with this choice, Mercutio chose to leave. He was not a fighting man and although he had loved his time on Zeltros remaining on a planet had discomforted him. Besides he had never intended to stay on the planet for more than a month and had ended up staying three years! He was filled with disappointment and anger at his forced exile but also with excitement: he had missed travelling greatly.
However he was concerned with his lack of protection. The universe was a dangerous place and apart from some simple blaster training from his father and uncle he could barely defend himself. So, deciding experience was the best teacher, Mercutio joined up with some mercenaries as a pilot. The Wicked Fang Clan had advertised themselves as a professional security force, a lie that Mercutio had seen through in an instant, but in actual fact what they were was much more terrible than he could have imagined. The Clan were not mercenaries but savage pirates and slavers and Mercutio quickly found himself out of his depth. Ever the actor, Mercutio kept his cool and instead of panicking continued with his duties. However as soon as the ship had met the permacrete landing pad of Nar Shaddaa he escaped, several rescued captives in tow. He disappeared into the slums of the Smuggler's Moon, finding a cruel and twisted parody of Zeltros. Lust and anger and pleasure were as important as they were on Zeltros but here they were grimy and twisted. At the first opportunity Mercutio found he left the Smuggler's Moon and began his journey to Junta Station. La Junta was fast approaching and Mercutio, missing the companionship and belonging of travelling with a Humani crew, intended to find a new family to fly with there.
RP Sample:
The audience was still, entranced even, as the dancers flowed about the stage. They leapt and twirled around each other in a flurry of curving arms and legs as the music leapt and twirled with them. The stage was illuminated by several small ceiling lights that threw thick beams of light onto the dancers, making their sequin-encrusted costumes glitter and sparkle. The harmony of the music and the dancers mixed in with the almost magical appearance of the lithe women culminated in something eerily beyond that of a dance. Mercutio watched from the wings, standing behind a billowing red curtain. He was breathless. He had watched that dance a thousand times and even now it gave him goosebumps...
The Duinuogwuin. It was easily his favourite dance of the troupe's. The way the silvers and blues of their costumes blended together as the troupe moved in concert, as if they were a single creature. A Star Dragon. He saw Elisa raise her arms in a display of power, bringing them down slowly before leaping into another twirl. He watched her soft red hair bounce behind her and marveled at the fact that only hours earlier he had sat with her in oil-covered overalls and installed their Durendals new power converters. The transformation was as mysterious as the dance itself. However he recognised her motions, the dance was nearing its climax. He saw it build, a swirling motion, as the dancers accelerated their movements. Each spin and gesture was more pronounced and produced a whirlpool-like effect that blinded the audience to the centre of the stage which the music reflected, accelerating chaotically into an artful cacophony. Just as planned. Mercutio looked away from the dancers and took in the vast amounts of wooden levers at his side. Each was connected to a complicated system of pulleys and operations through thick rope and he took his time finding the correct lever, his fingers dancing across their smooth tops. There. He pulled the switch down hard and glanced back to the stage just in time to see a dancer rise from the centre of the whirlpool, clad in brightest oranges and reds. A tongue of flame rising from the mouth of a Star Dragon. He beamed happily, the trapdoor had worked! It had taken hours of planning and argument but it had worked! He reached back for the lever and pushed it back into its original position, a quiet click under the music telling him that the door had closed. He saw the trapdoor-dancer, who he recognised to be Shiar, turning and twisting quickly like fire. Her violent movements were supported by the swirling dancers beneath her who had hold of her legs. The whole image was enthralling, even to one who had seen it as many times as he. Except this time it was much more special...
And then, as if suddenly frozen, the dancers and music stopped in perfect unison. The theatre fell silent and for a brief second nobody breathed, all too caught up in the fantastical aftermath of such a magical performance. And then it erupted. The audience's applause was thunderous and reverberated around the theatre in an echoing symphony of clapping and whooping. Mercutio joined them, laughing a little. This was the Theatre Grande, known and famed for its reserved patrons and class. And it's patrons were whooping. Priceless.
"Brilliant work! Best performance yet!"
He praised as the women filed off stage and past him, responding wordlessly. It was a tiring thing, dancing, not many people appreciated that. Certainly not the toffs who had paid to watch. For them the show was over when they left their seats. For him it was over when the last crew member stopped complaining about their aching feet. Elisa was last to leave the stage and greeted him with a quick hug before twirling off in the direction of their changing rooms, humming loudly.
"You did great today!"
He yelled after her, beaming. And they had. A lot of the time his compliments were empty and just present to spur them on but today! Whoo! Today they deserved every syllable. And more.
Without a thought Mercutio strode out onto the stage, colourful jacket glittering in the stage light. He forced his biggest smile out before exclaiming loudly, hands gesticulating wildly.
"And if you enjoyed the Black Danse troupe as much as I did you can find a full list of dates on our posters outside the theatre! We hope you had a fantastic evening and would consider gracing us with your presence again!"
He moved to the edge of the stage, sliding himself into a sitting position. He dangled his legs from it for a moment before looking back up at the audience.
"I tell you what though, those girls looked rather tired when they came off and I think we might need another round of applause to-"
The room exploded and he beamed widely. Jumping to his feet and waving madly he shouted his goodbyes before taking an exaggerated bow and leaping into the wings.
"Thank you, and good night!"
There's no business like show business.
-Wallace Stevens
Name: Mercutio Samirello Bolivano deFe
Age: 24
Race: Human (Humani)
Birth place: Lunaris, Samirello family ship
Height: 5'7"
Weight: 151lbs
Eye Color: Hazel
Hair Color: Brown
Appearance:
Mercutio is a slight man with low cheekbones and soft, friendly features. He has long shoulder-length brown hair and eyes of a similar shade. He possesses a friendly albeit slightly awkward smile that matches his character perfectly.
Although his clothing is often varied Mercutio is most often seen in his striking favourite jacket, an almost patchwork affair of vivid squares stuffed with swirling symbols and letters set within a swarm of concentric shapes. On the back of the jacket is a large dragon's eye, a symbol of good luck. Underneath the vibrant jacket Mercutio normally wears long-sleeved and low-cut shirts of chocolatey browns and blacks. Whilst his lower half reflects the colour of his shirt in the form of long trousers. On his wrist Mercutio wears a handmade bracelet of Krayt Dragon teeth and individual shards of a lustrous Krayt Dragon pearl, a memento of his father's successful career in trading.
Personality:
Mercutio is an intellectual and humorous individual who seems to be able to strike up friendships with just about anybody. He is friendly and although stifled by feelings of anxiety is a highly-skilled pilot. These feelings primarily concerning taking the lives of others in his hands and that of the incredible speeds and forces involved with flying. Regardless he recognises his talent and believes that despite his own fear he must exercise it. He is a dramatic soul and a lover of novels, plays and poetry and indeed often writes poetry in his spare time. He has been known, especially whilst he was working the Crimson Cave Club on Zeltros, to entertain friends with enthralling, blood-stirring tales of adventure, danger and suspense most often embellished but always exciting. Mercutio is, as he would say, 'a lover not a fighter' and despite knowing his way around a blaster would have to be given a very good reason to pull its trigger.
Profession: Pilot.
Equipment: A small and weathered notebook and several telescopic shot glasses.
Skills: Piloting, playing darts, telling stories, writing poetry, mixing drinks.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 7
Speed: 5
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 2
Melee Weapons: 2
Ranged Weapons: 6
Bio:
Mercutio Samirello was the child of a Humani couple and was born in the living quarters of their family ship, the Lunaris. His father, Ernesto, was a spice merchant and together with his family he traveled from system to system selling and trading spice. His mother, Silvari, was a dancer and actor and a vibrant soul who had married out of love and taught Mercutio and his twin sister Carlotta from an early age of epic tales and art. It was her that inspired their love of books and stage and the two would save their spare credits to buy second-hand books and holofilms at any chance they got. As twins the two spent many hours together playing, reading, sewing and being taught by their father and mother whilst their uncle Mabb piloted their ship. When not with his sister Mercutio, or Mercie as his sister called him, spent a lot of time with his uncle who whilst teaching him a little piloting discovered his incredible aptitude for flight and something else...
Mercutio was terrified of piloting a space craft. The thoughts of nothing but his own skill keeping a gigantic hulk of metal full of his dearest family from exploding or crumpling into an asteroid truly whilst travelling at often ridiculous speeds, honestly scared him. Despite his uncle's encouragement the fear remained and although his piloting continued to improve it never left him. Gradually however Mercutio began to pretend it had until his uncle was convinced he had overcome his fear. Proudly uncle Mab paraded him in front of his family and they applauded his success, whilst Mercutio smiled awkwardly knowing that it was a lie.
At the age of 13 Mercutio left the Lunaris for his aunt's (on his mother's side) ship, the Durendal. Whilst his mother had left her dancing and acting career behind to pursue love her sister, Tsura, had continued her career and established the Black Danse Troupe. The troupe traveled through the black and stopped wherever their entertainment would be appreciated, occasionally playing large, extravagant dance halls. The troupe was entirely female and held a variety of secondary professions such as seamstresses, fencers and a mechanic. Mercutio became their pilot and flew for them all of the years he stayed with them. Although initially distant from the girls they eventually warmed to him and he became good friends with most of them. It was during this time that he developed his incredible love with darts and card games, taking part in many drink-fuelled games whilst on the Durendal. Mercutio also attempted writing plays and choreographing dances for the troupe, finding more success in the former than the latter, and by the time his shadow years wereover the he was a fully credited member of the troupe. Despite his shadow years being over, he chose to stay on with the Troupe for a couple of years before at the age of 20 leaving them and visiting the infamously pleasurable planet of Zeltros.
On Zeltros Mercutio found a planet obsessed with pleasure and expression. This love of emotion and art was in no place more accentuated than in the Crimson Cave. The Cave was a small cabaret bar and one of the best on Zeltros, making it a hot spot for both tourists and locals. Mercutio discovered the Cave near the start of his time on Zeltros and fell in love with it. The jaunty, provocative melodies, heartwrenching and bloodstirring plays and powerful, emotive poetry quickly found a very special place in his heart. He visited the Cave almost every evening during his stay and, in a split-second decision, applied for a job in the Cave. It was only barwork but he didn't mind and quickly became popular in the club. The Zeltrons found his nomadic upbringing romantic and exotic and he often spent his evenings regaling stories across the bar. It wasn't soon after that he was awarded a small slot on stage where he would share fantastical tales of his journeys and recite his own poetry. Of course to a Zeltron words alone were not poetry and it was only with the pheromonal assistance of another Zeltron that he really captivated an audience. It seemed that Mercutio had found his place in the universe.
However dark thoughts stalked the bright streets of Zeltros, some of which concerned Mercutio... After two years of working and performing in the Cave he was quite famous amongst Zeltrons and tourists alike and in some cases more so than the previously renowned Zeltron poets, here being the crux of the problem. Before Mercutio had arrived Baldin Galahadrin was the club's premier poet (hell, even his name rhymed!) and enjoyed the lion's share of the limelight but when the Humani arrived thing changed. Mercutio's fame approached his and gradually eclipsed it, the club shifting Mercutio into Baldin's slot! The Zeltrons are a people of great emotion but this emotion is a two-way street and jealousy and anger are just as attractive as love or pleasure. Baldin Galahadrin was set ablaze with jealousy and rage at this Humani upstart and set out to dethrone his rival.
First, he worked harder than he ever had before. He poured his heart and soul into an epic poem called The Stallion which although receiving critical acclaim failed to knock Mercutio from his podium. The Zeltron, distraught and desperate, turned to crime and used his considerable wealth to hire an assassin. He ordered the assassin to first approach the Humani and give him a choice: he could leave Zeltros with his wealth and his life or he could die. Faced with this choice, Mercutio chose to leave. He was not a fighting man and although he had loved his time on Zeltros remaining on a planet had discomforted him. Besides he had never intended to stay on the planet for more than a month and had ended up staying three years! He was filled with disappointment and anger at his forced exile but also with excitement: he had missed travelling greatly.
However he was concerned with his lack of protection. The universe was a dangerous place and apart from some simple blaster training from his father and uncle he could barely defend himself. So, deciding experience was the best teacher, Mercutio joined up with some mercenaries as a pilot. The Wicked Fang Clan had advertised themselves as a professional security force, a lie that Mercutio had seen through in an instant, but in actual fact what they were was much more terrible than he could have imagined. The Clan were not mercenaries but savage pirates and slavers and Mercutio quickly found himself out of his depth. Ever the actor, Mercutio kept his cool and instead of panicking continued with his duties. However as soon as the ship had met the permacrete landing pad of Nar Shaddaa he escaped, several rescued captives in tow. He disappeared into the slums of the Smuggler's Moon, finding a cruel and twisted parody of Zeltros. Lust and anger and pleasure were as important as they were on Zeltros but here they were grimy and twisted. At the first opportunity Mercutio found he left the Smuggler's Moon and began his journey to Junta Station. La Junta was fast approaching and Mercutio, missing the companionship and belonging of travelling with a Humani crew, intended to find a new family to fly with there.
RP Sample:
The audience was still, entranced even, as the dancers flowed about the stage. They leapt and twirled around each other in a flurry of curving arms and legs as the music leapt and twirled with them. The stage was illuminated by several small ceiling lights that threw thick beams of light onto the dancers, making their sequin-encrusted costumes glitter and sparkle. The harmony of the music and the dancers mixed in with the almost magical appearance of the lithe women culminated in something eerily beyond that of a dance. Mercutio watched from the wings, standing behind a billowing red curtain. He was breathless. He had watched that dance a thousand times and even now it gave him goosebumps...
The Duinuogwuin. It was easily his favourite dance of the troupe's. The way the silvers and blues of their costumes blended together as the troupe moved in concert, as if they were a single creature. A Star Dragon. He saw Elisa raise her arms in a display of power, bringing them down slowly before leaping into another twirl. He watched her soft red hair bounce behind her and marveled at the fact that only hours earlier he had sat with her in oil-covered overalls and installed their Durendals new power converters. The transformation was as mysterious as the dance itself. However he recognised her motions, the dance was nearing its climax. He saw it build, a swirling motion, as the dancers accelerated their movements. Each spin and gesture was more pronounced and produced a whirlpool-like effect that blinded the audience to the centre of the stage which the music reflected, accelerating chaotically into an artful cacophony. Just as planned. Mercutio looked away from the dancers and took in the vast amounts of wooden levers at his side. Each was connected to a complicated system of pulleys and operations through thick rope and he took his time finding the correct lever, his fingers dancing across their smooth tops. There. He pulled the switch down hard and glanced back to the stage just in time to see a dancer rise from the centre of the whirlpool, clad in brightest oranges and reds. A tongue of flame rising from the mouth of a Star Dragon. He beamed happily, the trapdoor had worked! It had taken hours of planning and argument but it had worked! He reached back for the lever and pushed it back into its original position, a quiet click under the music telling him that the door had closed. He saw the trapdoor-dancer, who he recognised to be Shiar, turning and twisting quickly like fire. Her violent movements were supported by the swirling dancers beneath her who had hold of her legs. The whole image was enthralling, even to one who had seen it as many times as he. Except this time it was much more special...
And then, as if suddenly frozen, the dancers and music stopped in perfect unison. The theatre fell silent and for a brief second nobody breathed, all too caught up in the fantastical aftermath of such a magical performance. And then it erupted. The audience's applause was thunderous and reverberated around the theatre in an echoing symphony of clapping and whooping. Mercutio joined them, laughing a little. This was the Theatre Grande, known and famed for its reserved patrons and class. And it's patrons were whooping. Priceless.
"Brilliant work! Best performance yet!"
He praised as the women filed off stage and past him, responding wordlessly. It was a tiring thing, dancing, not many people appreciated that. Certainly not the toffs who had paid to watch. For them the show was over when they left their seats. For him it was over when the last crew member stopped complaining about their aching feet. Elisa was last to leave the stage and greeted him with a quick hug before twirling off in the direction of their changing rooms, humming loudly.
"You did great today!"
He yelled after her, beaming. And they had. A lot of the time his compliments were empty and just present to spur them on but today! Whoo! Today they deserved every syllable. And more.
Without a thought Mercutio strode out onto the stage, colourful jacket glittering in the stage light. He forced his biggest smile out before exclaiming loudly, hands gesticulating wildly.
"And if you enjoyed the Black Danse troupe as much as I did you can find a full list of dates on our posters outside the theatre! We hope you had a fantastic evening and would consider gracing us with your presence again!"
He moved to the edge of the stage, sliding himself into a sitting position. He dangled his legs from it for a moment before looking back up at the audience.
"I tell you what though, those girls looked rather tired when they came off and I think we might need another round of applause to-"
The room exploded and he beamed widely. Jumping to his feet and waving madly he shouted his goodbyes before taking an exaggerated bow and leaping into the wings.
"Thank you, and good night!"
There's no business like show business.
