Lawrence Samuelson

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Lawrence Samuelson
Shark-toothed Skulldugger

Lawrence samuelson.png

[edit]

Vital Information


Current Alias... Larry, Sam, Bastard, Son of a Bitch

Birth Name... Lawrence Samuelson

Race... Hyur

Gender... Male

Age... 26

Orientation... Homosexual

Marital Status... Single

Other Statistics


Nationality... Lominsan

Tribe... Highlander

Current Residence... Ul'dah

Occupation... Mercenary

Patron Deity... Rhalgr, the Destroyer

Alignment... Chaotic Neutral

Personality
Gregarious
Lackadaisical
Ambitious
Selfish
Cunning
Playboy
Witty
Crude

Likes

Drinking
Thrills
Flair

Dislikes

Pretentiousness
Dullness
Moralizing

Quirks

Blunt, for someone so wordy.
Extravagant flair, for someone so crude.
Soft spot for carbuncles.
Appearance
Lawrence Samuelson is a crude figure carved out by a crapsack life cast to the depths of the Lominsan underbelly, and he is all the more resilient for it, it seems.

Though before one sees Larry, one hears him. The bars he convenes are a full place regardless of the patronage, a charcoal and brimstone rumble washing the place to its depths with his rugged timbre and rugged cadence. His words are sharp, as a delicate blade through silk or a shank prying open a door. His guffaws are full, his indignations a thundering storm gathering in his chest, his exclamations a seismic event that threaten to tear his lungs with the force.

One takes a look at his stature, and it is a bearish affair. A dockworker's strength is packed liberally along a tree-trunk torso and ropey limbs, padded with indulgence where vigilance often wanes. His hair is wild and raven-black, swept back with haste and rolling with a careless regard. His features are built wide, a bullish nose and lantern jaw. Though, that is obscured by a wild growth of a beard that connects to a thick mustache. He shears himself square-shaped, though that is often determined by mood and circumstance. His smiles are sharp, shark-toothed, devilish lines skewed by tawdry wit and tinsel promise. His eyes are a dark umber smolder, a foxly glimmer flecking within his pupils.

His attire drapes over him like the dead of night. A fine tunic is obscured by a magnificent drape and cloak flowing over his torso, with intricate designs reminiscent of calligraphy rendering itself meaningless in pursuit of a greater aesthetic pleasure. His gaze is often shrouded in absence, a pall cast by the wide brim of his black hat.

His gait is lumbering and slow, carrying with it the inexorable speed of a lazy river. The air around him hangs heavy with the smell of smoke and whiskey. Most of all, his presence carries an explosive promise, a coiled spring of potential energy ready to snap into the fray for good or for fun.

Rumors
Some of these rumors are untrue, speculation, or are greatly exaggerated. Please feel free to add your own rumors under the Player Character category!

NPC

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◢ Common Rumors - Easily overheard. Use these freely!
"Aw, shit. Samuelson? A bloody lout, he was. A hustler, a cellar-ring slugger. If he wasn't getting bailed out, he was bailin' someone else out. He doesn't visit home, good." - A Yellowjacket.
"He's... uh, somethin'. Worked a job with him once, needed to infiltrate a pirate cove. Traipsed in there askin' to get in on the operation, threw a party, then he took a book out and' exploded them into the next world." - A La Nocean sellsword.
"I always kind of laugh when I see a new guy roll into the place. Comes up to to order a drink, and there's Sammy with a whiskey proffered and a wink to spare." - A Lominsan bartender.


◢ Uncommon Rumors - A little more difficult to hear. Use sparingly or ask first!
“Heard he clawed his way into his power. Books missing all over the place. Lots of thuggery about magic items, but I dunno'. Shit happens all the time, maybe he went legit." - A Lominsan Librarian
"Real piece of work. Ran a racket, a charity scheme for shipwrecked sailors. Crisis actors. Not sure how he wormed his way out of investigations, but his partner sure didn't." - A Yellowjacket officer.
◢ Rare Rumors - Very rarely overheard. Please ask before using!
"I saw him flirt at Rauhban once. It was awkward, before the man slipped him a linkshell. He left it behind, but there was an air of good humor." - A Flames Seargent.
"Sammy the Swindler. Worked real hard to cut that name from his past, but I know. no showman alive will make me forget all the men he grifted from, all the fights he fixed. Most of all, he sold his own lover out to get where he is. Only a shame now that he's as potent as he is now with that book, ill-gotten as it is. But it'll catch up." - A La Noscean Dockworker.

PC

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◢ Player Character Rumors - Feel free to add rumors of your own!
None, as of yet.


OOC

OOC INFORMATION

Personal RP Limits
I will play mature content and themes (violence, sexuality, drug / alcohol use) as long as they're logical in a plot-driven encounter. Coarse and excessive language. Temporary injury and incapacitation. Temporary imprisonment. Most walk-up encounters.
Ask about long-term and/or permanent injury and disfigurement. Long-term captivity or imprisonment.
I won't play permanent character death or rape plots.
Disclaimer
If an aspect of RP makes you uncomfortable in a scene we're playing, please send me a /tell, letting me know. Communication is very important, more important than potentially keeping immersion.
Potential Plot Hooks
■ Lawrence is a wanderer, taking big jobs with bigger stakes, often reaping bigger rewards. But this means he's anywhere he needs to be.
Credit

Thank you all for letting me use/alter your codes. If it weren't for you my wiki would not look how it does.

■ Template was created by Bancroft Gairn.
■ Adapted by Xheja Rajhera.
■ Backround and headers Atreus del Alumet.
■ Tabs by Unnamed Mercenary.
■ Expanded bits and relationship color keys by Lucaell Tareth'eian.
■ Music and OOC notes by Glioca Sargonnai.
■ Mashing everything together like a mad scientist D'lyhhia Lhuil.

Please remember to credit everyone when using this wiki. Thank you.


"We cross our bridges as we come t' them and burn them behind us, with nothing t' show for our progress except a memory of the smell'a smoke, and the presumption that once our eyes watered"