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Fox doesn't have any mojo right now.
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31 years old
Born Mar-15-1988
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Joined: 9-September 07
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Last Seen: 27th October 2007 - 07:59 AM
Local Time: May 20 2019, 04:36 PM
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FETO Profile

RP Data
My Content
24 Sep 2007

Name: Quincy "Cinderbeard" Schroeder
Age: 60. Yep, 60.
Homecountry: Marcellus
Affinity: Lightning
Gender: Male
Height: 6'0''.
Weight: One-hundred and fifty seven pounderoos.

Personality: Imagine the troll that hides under bridges and waits for people to cross. He comes out when someone approaches the bridge and asks for a toll, saying that they should pay him or he'll kill them. This troll is ugly, mean, and formidable.
He is also irrelevant.
Felix is not this troll, although he can seem at times like he will kill you. Having over sixty years of age under his belt, he has learned to be calm. Easy. Uncomplicated. Cool. Felix is the kind of down-to-earth, take no bullshit, don't ask for help kind of old man. If someone is bothering him, he ignores them. He has bigger things to worry about. Although he is a calm guy, it doesn't mean he isn't allowed to be grumpy. That's exactly what he is most of the time, really. After so many years of hard work and experience, Felix has grown to be pretty wise; so, dumbasses bother him. He doesn't keep his complaints to himself, either. He can be kind of loud at times. His sense of humor comes out in his being so outspoken, making him fun to be around, even if he doesn't seem happy.

Appearance: Quincy is knobby, so say the least. He is awkwardly proportioned, having a naturally thin body but large muscles in his arms and back. His legs are skinny like the rest of him and his feet are kind of large. His chest is sunken and unimpressive, especially since his ribs poke out like a twelve year old's. Years of rowing in ship gulleys have left him out of the sunlight, so his skin is pale and does not tan at all. A couple of tattoos his buddies talked him into getting snake around his scarred skin. A brown tribal kind of tattoo is banded on his right bicep, and a reddish brown bee tattoo is carved into the back of his left shoulder.
In the means of fatigues, Quincy prefers to wear simple a hemp shortcoat, unbuttoned and without sleeves so that his shoulders and arms are exposed. He always has on some brownish trousers ending just above some heavy-duty leather traveling cavalry boots, complete with brass buckles, as well as leather wristbands that tie on with small buckles. His britches are fastened to his waist with a cord of rope, typically with bottled remedies and sacks of mysterious items hanging off the sides. If he wears a long-sleeved shirt, you know it's pretty damned cold outside. Quincy used to have a beard, and a great long one at that, but it unfortunately burned off in the Great Flint Accident of '62.

Bio: Quincy just wants to achieve nirvana.

He spent most of his early years working on ships that sailed in and out of the small port in his Marcellus hometown. Eventually, Quincy remained with a mid-sized vessel working as a rower, and also defending the ship from pirate attacks. The ship was the Corona Austrina, a treasure ship that transported gold and silver. Obviously, it was a huge target for attack.

When Quincy was forty, the Corona Austrina was successfully attacked and her cargo looted. The ship was also sunk and remains at the ocean bed to this day. Quincy was taken prisoner by my vagabonds but was released once they reached shore in three months' time.

Quincy returned home with very little to account for his journey. Withered hard are gnarled by captivity and physical labor, Quincy retired to live a quiet rest of his life.

Restlessness had something else in mind.

Quincy now feels that he has personally achieved very little in his life, both individually and spiritually. Thus, he decided to leave home in search of humble endings; he doesn't expect to live lavishly, or to become anything great and influential. He just wants to find himself.

Class: Buccaneer
Level: 1

Weapons: Slim Sword
Weapon Levels: Swords≈E.

Additional Notes/Comments: Particularly good eyesight, lithe and nimble for an old man. Doesn't know how old he really is, because he never learned to count that high.
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Lo-Fi Version Time is now: 20th May 2019 - 03:36 PM