Character Creation Chain

[Peter Graham]

(I suspect you of being an historian, sir, and I claim my reward )

Alas - I am not and therefore unhappily I cannot furnish you with said reward. I am merely an enthusiastic amateur historian, of the stripe who confuses Clonmacnoise and Clontarf!

Stylish Stan Drummurd Nats

"They seek 'im 'eyurr
They seek 'im thair
'is cloaves are laad,
But nivva squair.
In matters ov vu cloff
'e is as fickuw as can be
'cos 'e's a dedicatid follerer of fashun"

So sang those lovable 1960's chirpy cockney barrow boys, The Kinks. And they might well have been writing about Stylish Stan, but for the fact that they weren't.

Nevertheless, Stan was (by his own admission) the best dressed man in London. Apparently unable to distinguish between the phrases "stylish bon viveur" and "vain fop who's been at the dressing-up box", Stan would pole around Jermyn Street and Savile Row togged out in a natty three piece 1920's suit, spats and a trilby. Or it might be heavy brogues, a mustard yellow waistcoat, a cravat and a green Harris tweed two-piece with a pronounced herringbone pattern that looked like someone had thrown up over Windsor Castle.

Stan longed for the good old days of Empire, when Pathe newreels would pronounce the glories of "Great Brittin" and gentlemen would doff their hats, give up their seats on the omnibus and twirl their moustaches roguishly at the sight of a well-turned female ankle.

He treated everyone and everything of the modern world with a smug insouciance. He liked to pretend that he was the last outpost of Edwardian class and sophistication, which made it all the more ironic when a couple of his like-minded, raffish chums wandered into the McDogburger Wendyking outlet in Deptford, to see Stan flipping patties and wearing red nylon trousers, a baseball cap with comedy mouse ears attached to the side and bright yellow short-sleeved shirt emblazoned with the legend "I never listened to my teachers, so how can I help you today?"

The Great Arvolio

 

[Interference]

of the stripe who confuses Clonmacnoise and Clontarf!

It's easily done, chum, though best not - the commuting costs are a wee bit different and one involves a couple of changes

Sorry, nothing else just now, I have to go an buy a mat and some plants - It's a varied kind o' job in the Civil Services - back soon .....

The Great Arvolio

 

[ratsy]

The Great Arvolio

The stage was set and the house was packed. Everyone was here to see the Great Arvolio do his magic. Every townsperson in a thirty mile radius had come to see the show. Arvolio donned a black satin cape and rimmed hat so many before him had pulled rabbits out of.

Arvolio peeked through the curtain and began to tremble. Once he had been hailed as the greatest Magicer in the world. He had made an island dissapear in the Caribbean and had lifted a blue whale out of the water. Now he had nothing but parlour tricks and slight of hand.

How could he have not had the forsight to know this was going to happen. Those years ago when he made the deal with the devil, nothing was said about how long the power would be his. In all of his excitment it never even crossed his mind. How Lucifer must be laughing in the depths of hell this very moment. Not only had he made a fool of Arvolio, he also had his soul for all of eternity.

Well, through it all the Great Arvolio never let his crowd down...the show would go on. With a deck of cards in his hand and a plastic wand in the other, he stepped through the curtain as teh pyrotechnics flared infront of him. For a moment he forgot where he was and all he could see was red and fire. Somewhere in the distance he thought he could hear screaming and the laughing of the devil. Was this what his future held? he thought as the crowd stood and clapped.

T. McDanza

 

[mirinda]

T. McDanza

Teresa McDanza or "Teresa the Terror "as she's known at work is the VP of a multinational corporation. Teresa clawed her way to her position at the prestigious Volvaire Corporation the only woman to have ever reached such a high position in the company she was well used to snide remarks and chauvinistic attitudes. Used to people saying she was the demise of the well rounded family. She would show them soon what she was really capable of doing. Adam Volvaire president of the company was getting older, was ready to retire and everyone knew it. He lacked the drive and spark to keep the company going and with no heirs of his own he would soon hand over leadership of his father's precious company and Teresa was ready. Always at his beck and call from the beginning she had wormed her way into Volvaire's life and twisted him around her finger. She was confident she would gain the power she wanted soon no one was there to oppose her, except maybe Leo...

Leo Sourjerner

 

[shadowbox]

Leo Sourjener

Abandoned by his mother when he was but a babe, Leo was reared among Gypsics and thieves alike, if there was any difference. A pretty child, fare skinned and bright eyes, he woed the hearts of locals with his wicked smile. Upon gaining his majority, Leo struck out on his own, in search of his missing father. He found him, in the midst of the moutains, a burley, aging man. A Druid.

And that is where his story truely begins...




Nolan Carroway

 

[Interference]

Nolan Carroway

Many men have died by his blooded hand, yes and women, too. Some say more than one child that's been missing is missing for making the same mistake.

That mistake?

Referring to Mr Nolan Carroway as "a bad seed".

Sam Duchet

 

[ratsy]

Sam Duchet

Sam has lived a lot of years and one thing never changes. He is still sick of people asking him how to say his last name. The same tired answer always followed.....Duchet as in Touche'. People would pronounce it Duck-it just because the average person didnt have the intelligence or lingusitic talent to decipher this.

Somehow this to Sam was the bane of his existance. To most people this would be a small hurdle in the grand scheme of things but not with Sam. Most would let it slide but Sam would say "Duck-it all to hell!"

Garblin Gossman

 

[shadowbox]

Garblin Gossman

Born into a life of poverty and petulance, Garbin was raised among thieves and pirates, taking to the open waters at too young an age. With a boyish charm no one could deny, he quickly woed the heart of the Captain of a notorious ship The Cylia, breaking his heart with nothing but a quick winded smile. Years passed, and Garblin remained ever present at the Captains side, keen to learn and always listening. No one feigned surprise when the Captain named him his second, a position of power every shipmate coveted. Though the surprise was not feigned, the rumors flew when the Captain did not wake, but for the knife in his belly. So was it that Garblin Gossom became Captain Gossom, notorious pirate.


Nolan Calloway

 

[shadowbox]

Thats right, Nolan CALLOWAY.

 

[Interference]

Nolan Calloway

Many men have died by his blooded hand, yes and women, too. Some say more than one child that's been missing is missing for making the same mistake.

That mistake?

Confusing Mr Nolan Calloway with one of the less attractive Nolan Sisters .

Esther Fortitude

 

[ratsy]

Esther Fortitude

Esther would walk in a room and expect the crowd to stop and turn their heads. Unfortunalty no one had turned their head at her for quite some time. She was once a beauty unparalled in her social circle but now her beauty had faded like the photos she kept in her desk. Photo's of a different time and what felt to her, a different person.

At times Esther would forget that she had aged 45 years since she had been a dancer and a model. She would go to the piano bar and politely refuse each gentlemans advances because she was a lady. Ladies didn't do the things these men intended. Memories flooded her mind on occasion and it was enough to make her forget that her bones hurt and that her hair was so thin she rarley let anyone see her without a hat. In these memories she danced....and she was beautiful.

Tysone Backlamb

 

[Interference]

Esther Fortitude

Esther would walk in a room and expect the crowd to stop and turn their heads. Unfortunalty no one had turned their head at her for quite some time. She was once a beauty unparalled in her social circle but now her beauty had faded like the photos she kept in her desk. Photo's of a different time and what felt to her, a different person.

At times Esther would forget that she had aged 45 years since she had been a dancer and a model. She would go to the piano bar and politely refuse each gentlemans advances because she was a lady. Ladies didn't do the things these men intended. Memories flooded her mind on occasion and it was enough to make her forget that her bones hurt and that her hair was so thin she rarley let anyone see her without a hat. In these memories she danced....and she was beautiful.

Truly touching, Ratsy

Tysone Backlamb

Foster mother to several thousand geese over ninety-seven years, earnestly had Tysone studied their flight-patterns throughout her adult life before discovering what she later described as "The Simple Truth".

One December, it was early in the month and the weather had turned aggressively bitter overnight. Moisture had crystalised and encrusted every exposed surface. The latch to her cabin door burned cold against her touch as she opened the door to explore the ghostly world beyond.

Mantallia Echo lay on the path, quite cold, quite dead and Tysone wept at the sight.

"Silly goose," she cried, a phrase oft used in levity made grim with mourneful tears that iced on her cheek. "Silly girl. South is thataway," and she lifted her eyes to the southern horizon and the sight greeting her shocked her into immobility.

Mantallia Echo had been the flight leader, selected who-knows-how out of dozens to lead the flock to warmth and comfort. Who knew why they had all followed her here instead. Tysone called to each by their name and each by turn bayed a reply.

"Go south," Tysone adjured.

"Why?" said Tiffir Welpit in her angry, masculine manner.

"You will die if you don't," said Tysone, and she looked back at the body of her fallen favourite.

"Why?" said Elithia Foldinbak.

"You cannot sustain yourselves in this cold," said Tysone.

"Can you?" asked the little one, Pretty Nautilus.

"I - " Tysone faltered. "I have done. Long winters I've seen, and cold and bitter ones, many more than any of you alive."

"Why?" said Pretty Nautilus.

"Because ..." but she had no answer.

"Lead us, then," said Tiffir sternly. "You are as we. You are no better. You are no worse. Merely more ancient. Lead us."

"I can't," said Tysone. "I have not the skill."

"Then we will stay with you."

"But you will die, dearest Tiffir."

"You did not die."

"Mantallia, poor, dear Mantallia did," said Tysone.

"Mantallia Echo would have led us south. We chose to stay. Mantallia Echo knew of this. She chose to die to free us to choose. Now you will lead us -- to stay."

Tysone Backlamb, a goose more ancient and no more wise than any yet alive, learned something new that day, a simple truth. The Simple Truth.

A leader must lead.


Dreadnought Alan

 

[Saeltari]

Dreadnought Alan

The kind of man you would secretly want your son to be.

A broken leg gave a limp to an otherwise overpowering gait. Dread, as he preferred to be called, cultivated the limp for the sympathy it engendered from the ladies. It offered a softness that he would otherwise not have.

His shoulder length hair and cutting nose complimented the sharp planes of his face, preparing people for the eyes of the man. Eyes that seemed to offer much, but only for the loss of your soul.

Dreadnought Alan. An apt name for a man that death called upon when trouble rose...



Pickles Deliquile

 

[Zubi-Ondo]

Pickles Deliquile

People rarely understood much of what Pickles had to say. His heavy Cajun accent was only part of the issue. The fact that he was always more or less "under the influence", in combination with his accent, and his brain full of scrambled eggs made it sound like he was speaking in some ancient, oracular tongue known only to some imaginary tribe of islanders off the coast of South America. It didn't much matter since the newsstand he managed was frequented mostly by patrons who knew the prices of things. If he occasionally lost some business to a new customer because they gave up trying to discern his words, it didn't much matter to him, because he always had enough cash flow to feed his mouth and his habit.

He actually liked the nickname, knowing full well that he was an alcoholic, and that it fit him. He didn't want to get close to anyone - that would surely bring him pain one way or another. The alcoholism and incoherence kept people at a distance. Right where he wanted them.

Pickles was rotund and walked with a hobble, cheeks as red as a ripe pomegranate. His stubby, wrinkled up nose was roughly the same shade of red. He wore ragged shirts and ragged pants, along with the same worn out waistcoat. The embroidery on the inside of the 'Jerkin' was barely visible through the film of dirt and grease permeating the cloth.

Mr. Robideaux greeted Pickles in the same way every weekday as he stopped to pick up the daily news. "Mornin' there, Pickles." He'd say with a smile.

"Grese tu anche du Jour". Was Pickles reply this morning.

Mr. Robideaux was a bit surprised to hear some coherent French in the sentence. "Bon Jour pour vous aussi." He replied.

Pickles just looked at him strangely, and then looked away; humming some meandering unrecognizable melody.

The man smiled, shook his head and went merrily off to start his day.


Augustus Rimbaud Deedleweld

 

[Interference]

(Darn! I wanted to have a crack at Pickles!)

Augustus Rimbaud Deedleweld

A favourite with the audience, his failure to nail the contest astonished him and his wife, Sue. He'd thrown everything into that performance. His moves were right, he even had what he liked to call "The Elusive Voice" ; even Ronnie, his joke-writer, could think of nothing funny to say about his hair this time.

But still he lost. "It's like deja vu all over again," he told Delightful Delia at the interval, and even Ronnie winced.

Augustus had never won a competition. Why did everyone keep telling him he was so good until it came to the crunch - the final vote?

Well, this time he'd show them. This time he'd be the best and everyone would say so, right up to the end.

He tied a bandana around his head, dropped two of his names, anglicised the one that remained and reached for an M16.

Two women, a street-cleaner and a pidgeon died before the police stopped him. As he lay dying, one officer recognised him.

"It's Augustus Rimbaud Deedleweld," he said.

"No," the performer croaked. "Not Augustus Rimbaud Deedleweld. Call me -- Ramb--"

He died before he finished speaking and the officer was bemused.

Spelling doesn't come across that clearly when a man is uttering his dying words.


Spinning Ned Jacket

 

[Zubi-Ondo]

(Darn! I wanted to have a crack at Pickles!) So, have one! Nobody is stopping you.

Spinning Ned Jacket

"Rosebud." Whenever anyone asked him a question he couldn't answer that was his reply. "Rosebud." The responses depended upon the original question, of course. Usually something like, "Huh? what are you talking about?" Then he'd say, "Nothing." and commence to tell some long winded story that would wear the listener down so badly that they'd forget about their question, and he never had to answer it. His real name was Nedward Acapella Sneet, and some say he was related to a seagull, but that didn't make any sense. But then neither did his stories. That's because they were a pack of lies.

He was tall and lanky, and his thin nose and big ears made him look a bit goofy. He used this to his advantage in public, for it was easy for him to make children laugh at him. He wore a deep purple smoking jacket everywhere he went which only added to the hilarity of his appearance. Never the less, this is how he came by his name. The jacket part, anyway.


Tonyana Silternoon

 

[Interference]

Tonyana Silternoon

.... She's something of a tycoon. Or perhaps I mean typhoon. No, tycoon's the word I want. Made her money fast, spent it slow. Her trade? Only the toughest trade in the five worlds. She mud-hits one planet, trades, wheels, deals, then she sparks engines to the next quicker than a whore gets into character. Tonyana isn't a whore though. She owns delis and runs a quile franchise on the side. But the deli-quile bit is just pocket change for her. The big bucks she earns as the galaxy's foremost --

Pickle Princess.


Lanyard Fairfelt

 

[Peter Graham]

Lanyard Fairfelt

Lanyard worked in a farmyard where he made halyards for a chap called Banyard who took them to Bromyard from where they were sent to the naval shipyards for the use of Jolly Jack Tars.

Lanyard was a Fairfelt, originally from Magherafelt. His father was born on the veldt and his mother (a trader in spelte) was known to be rather svelte in her younger days, which is probably how she came to get felt up by his father in Magherafelt.

The Throbbing Bishop

 

[Saeltari]

The Throbbing Bishop

The Throbbing Bishop was a proud, arrogant man of average appearance. He knew what many thought of his name but he did not care as it came from a stunningly simple set of chess moves he had found that almost guaranteed a win.

He had lived off of it for years, his little piece of fame.

His, Throbbing Bishop.


Donkins Pursure

 

[DocFlamingo]

Donkins Pursure

His name was Donkins Pursure, and it seemed to fit him. A pasty faced little paper-shuffler with a bulbous head who insisted on showing you his cavernous nostrils when he spoke. Annoyingly tall, this typically required but a tilt of his head; he avoided confrontation with those who possessed any sort of height advantage.

Haddington Wentworth III