Baruth Barazo (COM)

[Baruth]

I'M GONNA MARRY THE NIGHT,





"Arrr, peace, PEACE! I hate that word as I hate hell, and all of you!"

I WON'T GIVE UP ON MY LIFE,

NAME: Baruth Barazo’s the name, and it en’t ever changing!
GENDER: Male, what do I look like?
AGE: 50 and still pillaging as well as ever!
AFFILIATION: Arr, I be a Survivor.

GONNA MAKE LOVE TO THE STARS,

PERSONALITY: What, you want to know about my personality? You be a strange one. Not many people like listening to a smelly ol’ seadog rant ‘bout his feelings. I be a strict capt’n, but I reward good work heavily. My men all love me as a father, a’course. I en’t gonna hesitate to put me cutlass through the skull of anyone stupid enough t’ challenge m’ authority though, and pacifists n’ those shaman type, peace-obsessed idjits make me sick. I be an unstoppable force in battle, and I tend ta be in battle often, so people who meet me and aren’t part of the crew often be a lil terrified. That be if I don’t have me cutlass at their throat already, yahahaha!

LIKES:
+ Sailin’ in, sleepin’ in, eatin’ in and anythin’ else ta do with my beauty, th’ ‘Kraken’s Scream’!
+ My crew, so loyal n’ determined ta serve!
+ BATTLE! BATTLE! BATTLE! AAAAAAAAARRRRRR!
+ Me arm-cannon, it be savin’ me salty behind more n’ once.
+ I be likin’ me fish n’ taters a lil smoky, with thanks ta th’ cook.

DISLIKES:

- Peace, I hate that word as I hate hell, and all who be preachers of it! Hm, I feel like I’ve said that before, somewhere…
- Anybody with th’ ruddy balls t’ be disrespectin’ of me or my crew is dead ta me.
- Storms be a bane ta all who sail the deep blue, an’ I still hate ‘em on land.
- Mutineers be just about th’ only thing I’ll never tolerate on me ‘Kraken’s Scream’.
- YOU BLEEDIN’ DINGBATS, WHO PUT SUGAR IN ME SALT SHAKER? Me fish an’ taters are SWEET now, bloody hell! I HATE SWEET FOODS!

I'M NOT GONNA CRY ANYMORE,

HISTORY: I was born on a ship, an’ I’m gonna die on a ship. That’s a brief overview of m’ life story. But ye didn’t come here for a brief overview, did ya? Very well, I’ll start from the very beginnin’.

I be th’ son o’ the greatest pirate capt’n to e’er sail th’ deep blue; Mogin Barazo. He was dubbed th’ “King o’ Pirates” by his crew an’ “Mogin o’ Nine Lives” by law abidin’ folk, for th’ tale was that he couldn’t e’er die in battle, ‘less he was killed in nine ways in a single full moon ‘fore dawn. True ta his title o’ king, he left bastard sons n’ daughters all over the place, an’ I was one of ‘em. I never did know why he picked me outta his twenty-somethin’ heirs t’ raise himself. None of his other bastards looked much like ‘im as I did, I s‘pose.

First few years o’ me life, I learnt humility. Scubbin’ th’ decks, hoistin’ sails, haulin’ loot, that kinda hard labour. Soon, I knew e’ery inch o’ the ship like th’ back o’ me hand. Th’ blisters an’ splinters toughened me skin, and the experience made me one with th’ crew. Not much o’ a royal life for a prince, but neither me nor ol’ Pa would have it any other way. I got me cut o’ the crew’s salary too, so I could buy what I wanted when I wanted it at any o’ the smugglers’ ports we came across. That’s how I got me pet eel. Say ‘arr’, Neptune! Ain’t you a piece of work, eh.

Anyway, when I got into me double digits, Pa started teachin’ me how ta fight. Personally. An’ lemme tell ya, it stung, it really stung. Most o’ the scars ya see on me legs and back are from ol’ Pa’s whippings if I didn’t do all that well each time we trained. Iron-tapered cat o’ nines. I prolly swallowed enough seawater to drown a bloody army with how many times he pushed me off th’ ship, too. But oh, did I learn all there was ta learn about pirates’ fighting. We’re called th’ most down-low dirty sea-dogs to sail th‘ blue for a reason.

Then came me comin’ o’ age, and before ye say it, I did NOT get a prissy lil cake or a birthday party to celebrate it. Me first raid was a party all on its own. I killed me first man without any help that day, some big-headed Navy chump who thought they could take a whole smugglers’ port even after the alarm was raised. Rammed me cutlass so far up his pompous arse, it came out the other end ta tickle his tonsils! The bastard took somethin’ with him though; put a charge o’ grapeshot through me right arm.

Six days an’ six nights of pain. Six days an’ six nights of nightmares an’ constant hallucinations. That be the worst week o’ me life, ta be sure. Ship’s doctor decided against me will ta lop me arm off. Pa didn’t argue; neither o’ us were doctors, ta be fair. I really liked that arm. Mighta even been me favourite. Good thing was, being one of the more successful pirates out there, we got me a replacement soon enough. Little thing’s full of gears an’ cogs an’ chains, but you’d think it was just a plain chunk o’ wood just by lookin’ at it. Garlean smugglers do get the best o’ everythin’, don’t they.

Life goes on, regardless of whether ya like it or not. Like a brisk breeze, the years pass, and crewmen come an’ go. All but me an’ Pa. An’ even that was gonna change. Ya see, no navy like hearing that one of their captains got killed by a pirate barely of age. And, contrary to what most would think, the Garlean Navy seems to believe that for the sins o’ the son, the father will pay. Or maybe they just really hated Pa.

They must have paid out a load for the ambush, but it worked regardless. As soon as we stepped into the port, a bunch of those Garlean bastards jumped us and took out a fair chunk of the crew, and even managed to get Pa into shackles. I don’t remember much that happened after that, because a massive sea trunk decided to fall on me head then and there. But when I came to, our entire crew was all shackled up an’ bound in some dark, damp dungeon.

I asked Pa what was goin’ on since he was right next ta me, an’ he said that we was gonna dance the hempen jig at dawn. Well, e’ery pirate meets his end, says me, an’ he laughs like he’s gone mad. All o’ us laugh like we’ve gone mad. Then th’ turnkey tells us ta shut up an’ listen, because we’re not gonna die. All o’ us stop laughing. What?

Long story short, th’ Emperor used that rusty brain o’ his ta figure that we’d be better off in his service, fighting his enemies rather than just killin’ everyone we meet an’ then gettin’ hung. So now we be ‘privateers’ with a royal pardon. It’s pretty much th’ old life, ‘cept we don’t attack ships with Garlean colours. In return, we get tons o’ bonus pay for each non-Garlean ship we bring down t’ the depths, so it be a win-win.

Pa died when I was what, 45? Went down with a bout o’ what th’ docs call ‘ship fever’. Bloated and feverish with a nasty red rash. Last words were for us to return ‘im to th’ blue, so he’ll never be far from us. Leastwise, he never died in battle, but I’m still miffed about it...what, this? Naw, I ne’er cried in me whole life, that be just some...salt spray in me eyes. Let’s...talk ‘bout somethin’ else, eh.

So of course, I was th’ new cap’n. Th’ crew treated me just like I was me Pa, completely loyal fighters, each fiercer than a tiger shark, and I’m sure that any one of ‘em would’ve taken a flintlock ta th’ chest for me, any day. We kept sailin’ and sailin’, rackin’ up so many scuttled ships I’m sure Davy Jones himself is in debt t’ me for all th’ new souls down in his locker. But, as it is, all pirates do come t’ an end.

Ya know th’ drill. Big ol’ storm, cap’n thinks he can sail it through, ship cracks in half, all the rum’s lost, half the crew dead, stranded on a foreign shore. Funny how everythin’ can go ta hell with one big ol’ wave. So now, I guess we’re tryin’ ta stay alive here on this godforsaken island, huh? An’ we got nothin’ but plain ol’ water ta drink. Leastwise, I’ve still got Neptune. He’s taken to slippin’ in an’ outta the tidepools. Ain’t he just a piece o’ work, eh?

FAMILY:

Mogin Barazo, me father. He be dinin’ with Davy Jones by now, bless his black heart.
Never knew who me mother was. Probably some serving wench at a smuggler’s port.
Me crew! They be all like sons, daughters, brothers an’ sisters t’ me.
Me pet Moray, Neptune. Have you seen how bloody large he is? What a beauty.

POWERS:

Moon’s Curse: I be gettin’ this one from dear ol’ Pa. I can’t die o’ combat wounds, ‘less somehow I get mortally wounded nine times under th’ light o’ th’ full moon. Pretty simple t’ understand, really.
Pirates’ Swordsmanship: Pa’s combat trainin’ really hardened me up. If ye don’t mind havin’ ye limbs relocated t’ a more comfortable position on th’ ground, I suggest ye fall and grovel before we hafta fight.
Garlean Gear: Me arm, specifically me right arm, is now a weapon ta surpass any plain ol’ cutlass! Really wish I still had me hand though.

WEAPONS:

Cutlass: Me trusty cutlass, passed down from me Pa t’ me.Sharp as ever.
Flintlock Belt: Me belt full up o’ flintlocks. I could get 7, maybe 8 shots off ‘fore it all runs on empty.
Garlean Gear: Ohohoho...ye ain’t seen nothin’ o’ what Garlean smugglers can do. It can be a cutlass, a harpoon, and a bloody armcannon, all in one! Better duck for cover, maggots!
Neptune: Watch where ya put yer foot when you’re steppin’ in those tidepools, by the way.

DOWN THE STREETS I LOVE,

OOC NAME: Xubo

HOW DID YOU FIND US: Ad

PASSWORD: Arr, I know th’ password; it be Moon Cookies!

CUSTOM TITLE: With me Pa down in the depths, I be th’ King of Pirates now.

ROLEPLAY SAMPLE:

Baruth squinted at the cloudless blue sky above, and smacked his dry lips, gummed together by the overwhelming tropical heat. Taking a long hard swig from the flask of rum at his hip, he leant over the railing of his cabin’s balcony and bellowed a decisive order.

“Hoist sails, ye maggots! I taste a breeze comin’ on...time for us t’ finally get outta these doldrums.”

A collective ‘AYE AYE!’ rose from the decks below and the deck began to bustle with activity as pirates of all shapes and sizes popped out of shady alcoves and from beneath the deck, braving the scorching sun as they seized the opportunity to get the ‘Kraken’s Scream’ back to ruling the waves. Barazo cracked a smile as several crewmen saluted him and waved in his direction, and announced to the decks below:

“Everyone gets rum after this! It’d be a damn shame for all those kegs to go warm! Now, men! Bring me that blue, blue horizon!”

“AYE AYE, CAPTAIN BARAZO!”

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TEMPLATE MADE BY PANDA.

MODIFIED BY LOTTI.

LYRICS FROM LADY GAGA'S "MARRY THE NIGHT".

[Yue]

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