Post by tarnations on May 11, 2008 16:49:11 GMT -5
Name: Roderick Eberhardt
Nickname(s): Rick(y)
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Current Job: Carpenter
Usually Found At: Carpenter's Workshop, Saloon, Chapel, Barber Shop
Description: Roderick immigrated from his native Germany with his family when he a young teenager in order to escape poverty and militarism. From a very young age, he was forced to work in order to help his family income, which built a strong work ethic within him, as well as physical strength. Ever since he was free to go wherever he wanted, he roamed about the North American continent to satisfy his need for exploration. Finally, he came upon the little town of Brenton, and for some reason, it enchanted him enough that he finally settled down. Now, at the age of twenty-five, he has matured into a rather handsome young man. His height is considerable, nearing a bit over six feet; he is broad-shouldered and has a considerably chiseled build, which gives the impression that he is able to do some heavy work. Bright blue eyes are a stark contrast to his porcelain complexion, and always glitter with eagerness to work, learn, and explore. He has kindly and refined facial features, unlike what one would stereotypically expect from person of his nationality. His hair is a soft golden in colour, cropped short and tousled. Usually, it is covered by his only hat, which he had brought with him from Germany. Though he is more comfortable and so more commonly wears German clothing, he also likes to experiment with the clothes of the American West. When not wearing his German clothing, his attire consists of a pinstriped vest, white long-sleeved shirt, dark tie or neck ruffle, and some neutral-coloured slacks which drop down to his obsessively polished hobnailed boots. A silver pocket-watch hung from a chain clasped to a ring on his pocket which led to a belt loop. He usually carried around his fiddle and his whittling knife, just in case he ever found himself with nothing to do. Rather trusting, he does not carry around a weapon and can rarely bring himself to think about using his whittling knife to protect himself. One can easily pick out his trade, since, given any time that he wasn't playing his fiddle, working, or making conversation with anyone who was open to it, he was whittling surprisingly complex figures and will often give them out as gifts.
Roderick's eagerness to always keep his mind and hands busy sometimes leads him to do quite idiotic things, though most of the times, he keeps his activities in the norms of society, so he is more commonly seen whittling, writing, drawing, playing his fiddle, or polishing whatever he can on his clothes or in his surroundings. He also appears to be quite amiable, as he never seemed to hesitate to smile pleasantly at passersby and got along equally well with members of any race and species.
Example of RP: (This is gonna be lame... XD *has been suffering from bad writer's block*)
Clank, clank, clank...
Roderick's hobnailed boots hit against the warm metal of the train tracks as he walked upon them. In his boredom, he had made a bet with himself; if he fell off these tracks within five minutes, he'll drink as many shots of whiskey as it would take to get mad drunk-- which he had earlier vowed he'd never do. If he stayed on... well, he didn't get to that part yet, but he will soon. Roderick's bright blue eyes stayed fixed upon the glistening metal until he heard the shuffling of feet nearby, which prompted him to look up. It was a beautiful lady, walking by casually despite the strange look on her face when she noticed the bizarre antics of the young man. Of course, Roderick couldn't help but smile. He raised a hand and waved to her, and she timidly waved back, though she didn't seem to want any association with him. Roderick, of course, didn't notice this, and went on.
"Vhy hallo, beautif---!" Before Roderick knew it, he was face flat on the dirt road, coughing from the cloud of dust that had been stirred up by his fall. By the time that his eyes stopped watering and he was able to see clearly, the lady had already gone away. Roderick shrugged, seemingly unaffected, and sat up, taking out his pocket watch. Only now, when he counted how much time he had spent on the tracks, a frown came onto his face. "Eghhh... I yust had vone minute left!" he groaned, feeling utterly disappointed. Slowly, with shoulders slightly slumped, he stood up and headed to the saloon as he had earlier promised himself he would.
Piccy: Coming soon!
Nickname(s): Rick(y)
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Current Job: Carpenter
Usually Found At: Carpenter's Workshop, Saloon, Chapel, Barber Shop
Description: Roderick immigrated from his native Germany with his family when he a young teenager in order to escape poverty and militarism. From a very young age, he was forced to work in order to help his family income, which built a strong work ethic within him, as well as physical strength. Ever since he was free to go wherever he wanted, he roamed about the North American continent to satisfy his need for exploration. Finally, he came upon the little town of Brenton, and for some reason, it enchanted him enough that he finally settled down. Now, at the age of twenty-five, he has matured into a rather handsome young man. His height is considerable, nearing a bit over six feet; he is broad-shouldered and has a considerably chiseled build, which gives the impression that he is able to do some heavy work. Bright blue eyes are a stark contrast to his porcelain complexion, and always glitter with eagerness to work, learn, and explore. He has kindly and refined facial features, unlike what one would stereotypically expect from person of his nationality. His hair is a soft golden in colour, cropped short and tousled. Usually, it is covered by his only hat, which he had brought with him from Germany. Though he is more comfortable and so more commonly wears German clothing, he also likes to experiment with the clothes of the American West. When not wearing his German clothing, his attire consists of a pinstriped vest, white long-sleeved shirt, dark tie or neck ruffle, and some neutral-coloured slacks which drop down to his obsessively polished hobnailed boots. A silver pocket-watch hung from a chain clasped to a ring on his pocket which led to a belt loop. He usually carried around his fiddle and his whittling knife, just in case he ever found himself with nothing to do. Rather trusting, he does not carry around a weapon and can rarely bring himself to think about using his whittling knife to protect himself. One can easily pick out his trade, since, given any time that he wasn't playing his fiddle, working, or making conversation with anyone who was open to it, he was whittling surprisingly complex figures and will often give them out as gifts.
Roderick's eagerness to always keep his mind and hands busy sometimes leads him to do quite idiotic things, though most of the times, he keeps his activities in the norms of society, so he is more commonly seen whittling, writing, drawing, playing his fiddle, or polishing whatever he can on his clothes or in his surroundings. He also appears to be quite amiable, as he never seemed to hesitate to smile pleasantly at passersby and got along equally well with members of any race and species.
Example of RP: (This is gonna be lame... XD *has been suffering from bad writer's block*)
Clank, clank, clank...
Roderick's hobnailed boots hit against the warm metal of the train tracks as he walked upon them. In his boredom, he had made a bet with himself; if he fell off these tracks within five minutes, he'll drink as many shots of whiskey as it would take to get mad drunk-- which he had earlier vowed he'd never do. If he stayed on... well, he didn't get to that part yet, but he will soon. Roderick's bright blue eyes stayed fixed upon the glistening metal until he heard the shuffling of feet nearby, which prompted him to look up. It was a beautiful lady, walking by casually despite the strange look on her face when she noticed the bizarre antics of the young man. Of course, Roderick couldn't help but smile. He raised a hand and waved to her, and she timidly waved back, though she didn't seem to want any association with him. Roderick, of course, didn't notice this, and went on.
"Vhy hallo, beautif---!" Before Roderick knew it, he was face flat on the dirt road, coughing from the cloud of dust that had been stirred up by his fall. By the time that his eyes stopped watering and he was able to see clearly, the lady had already gone away. Roderick shrugged, seemingly unaffected, and sat up, taking out his pocket watch. Only now, when he counted how much time he had spent on the tracks, a frown came onto his face. "Eghhh... I yust had vone minute left!" he groaned, feeling utterly disappointed. Slowly, with shoulders slightly slumped, he stood up and headed to the saloon as he had earlier promised himself he would.
Piccy: Coming soon!
Feed Me!