Post by Liam Godfrey on Mar 25, 2010 1:13:30 GMT -5
Liam Theodore Godfrey
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the player
name: David works fine.
experience: Longer than a while, but much shorter than an eternity.
the character
name:Liam Theodore Godfrey [General Of T.U.R]
gender:Male
age:40
birthdate: August 29th
occupation: Author [General of T.U.R]
sexual preference: Women
the costume
desired celeb: Gary Oldman
unique features: Liam has a large burn on his back from an iron.
appearance: Liam is with out a doubt an attractive man, for his age, at least. He is aging fairly well, and wrinkles are few to his face, but his eyesight is not so lucky. Writing by candle-light did damage to his already not-so-great eyes, and he is forced to wear a set of thick-lens glasses. They are rimless, for Liam is a fashionable fellow.
When one has the sort of money that a successful author/general of a naughty army, one may dress very, very nicely. It's all tailored for Liam, and it's all suits and ties. You would be lucky to catch him in anything but. He favors gray, but when feeling particularly daring, he will go to navy with a lovely red tie.
the play
preferred weapon(s): A sword cane.
strengths: Clever, Sharp-witted, Strong willed.
weaknesses: Arrogant, Controlling, Untrustworthy
specialty: Leading.
personality: Liam is a bastard, plain and simple. He isn't one for sympathy, and he isn't one for kindness. It's a good thing, for him. Friendship never appealed to him anyway. His view on people is that they are good for getting what you want, and that's the end of the story.
Case and point, the only woman that Liam ever actually stuck with was the mother of his son. When she gave birth to him, Liam gave her some money and booted her. The only reason he even wanted a son was so that he could have his own personal slave.
Personal gain. Liam's all about personal gain.
history: Liam wasn't exactly brought up by the best of people. His mother was a very nasty, nasty librarian. Not the sexy kind, but the kind that would smack you with a thesaurus if you coughed near her. As a result, Liam spent most of his time as a child categorizing books, and developing a love for reading. That love for reading birthed a love of writing. That's all good and great, but the rules of silence carried on to home, and home was a one bedroom box not far from the library.
Mother was a little crazy, just a little. She had a dramatic effect on Liam's personality, but Liam knew he didn't have to be bad. He chose to be that way. He was an intelligent child to start with, and he never brought home anything less than A's. This pleased crazy, and he didn't get 'crazied on'. It was a nice little communication they had going.
Liam didn't have much time for romance, but when he found it at age fifteen, Mother put an iron to his back and burnt it out of him. He went on from there to write a couple of bestsellers at seventeen. He went on writing, and he made quite a bit of money. At twenty-one, he had a son.
the act
sample roleplay: If the cigarette between his fingers didn't burn out before the kid shut up, Liam just might let him go. He had lit it at the start of his whining, and hadn't puffed it once since then. It was a race between them, the kid and the cigarette, but Liam didn't let him know that.
If he knew that having a boy would be this irritating nineteen years ago, he may not have bothered with that woman. The boy was consistantly fighting him, every step of the way. It had started when he turned sixteen. "I want to" this, and "Why can't I" that. You would think that after all the years that Liam had beaten this shit out of him, it would stay out, but no, it only got worse. It was horrible.
The cigerette was almost out. The boy wasn't done talking. Not by a long shot. Liam eyed the grandfather clock behind the boy. He looked at the things on his big oak desk. He could feel his head start to throb. Ugh. He closed his eyes. If he kept them closed for long enough, maybe he could fall asleep. Then the boy would leave him be.
He was begining to fade when he felt the drag come to an end. It burnt the end of his fingers, and he hissed, dropping it.
"What ever. Just leave me be."