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Terence Whyte

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Terence Whyte

Post  Terence Whyte on Fri Feb 03, 2012 1:42 am

OOC Info
How did you find out about StC? Magic.
Have you read our rules, and do you agree to abide by them? I say yay.

Character Info
Canon/Original: Original
First Name(s): Terence
Surname: Whyte
Nicknames: Terry, Chalky
Age: Around 16
Sex: Male
Place of Birth: England, roaming people's, originated from the Mediterranean and imigrated to England.
Occupation: Marine (boy) private
Family: Bernardo (52) and Maria (46) Whyte
Siblings: Bernard (30),Agnes (28), John (26), Adam (26), Jane (24), Anne (22), Allen (19), Avery (20), Mary (17)
Description: Dark hair which is bound at the back in a tight queue. Freckles adorn his cheeks and span some across his nose. If exposed to the sun for a longer period of time, his skin will darken considerably making the freckles much less obvious. His eyes are almost as dark as his hair, and seem small due to the fact that he often squints when the light is too strong. He had been a frail child when young, what one could call the runt of the litter, which doesn't leave him very healthy-looking, most of the time.

He is quite clumsy and not very strong. Not naturally brave. He has been tested in battle with mixed results. His uniform is in a considerably good state, mostly thanks to the fact that it's new. It has been found wrinkled, especially his shirt, and once a stock was misplaced, just to be found lying behind some barrels, covered in bits of cloth and wood, and sporting a squealing few mice who'd have found to make a nest on it. And found it was, after a new one had been issued and worn for a while, found by accident rather than intention.

Though he seems to try his best in keeping his brass and his musket clean, of which the latter he must still grow in to owning, his appearance is often that of a lad who, when gone into temptation, has cut corners to do things much quicker than originally needed.

During his free time he is usually found playing with his deck of cards which is stashed away at a moment's notice, if an officer, corporal or sergeant come near. He has earned a penny or two with his rather amateur skill of fortune telling. Though how many of the things he'd said came true, well the most logical, always.

He is a freshly joined marine, and has joined as a boy private. Since he'd joined at this age, he is too old that he could be trained as a drummer or fifer, just to reach the age where he could earn his bread being a private.

Strengths and Weaknesses:

A quick lerner, usually of all the wrong things, but he has a potential to pick up some good learning on the way.

Quick with his hands and fairly good at stealing. Which can be good, if one runs out of money and wishes to head for a good tavern or two. It also serves as a bit of entertainment when he performs some of his tricks with cards.

Not much of a strength to have perhaps, but he can actually sing and comes up with many a tune as well as amusing lyrics when the occasion or boredom calls for it. Since he can't write, he either remembers the song by ear, or.. makes up a new one.

He has a thing for anything that shines. When a coin or something of similar glittering nature is offered to him, he might follow anyone right into trouble just to earn it. This has proven of greatest importance when he has first seen the marines. The shiny brass, the promise of prize money, and the rest of the sort, have after all convinced him that joining was the finest way to get all of the above in the easiest and quickest way.

He is also rather clumsy. It is strange how he may be able to snatch a worthy penny of a man without being noticed, but is he to follow an order, or do something much more ordinary he can sooner trip, drop or tip it over than do it without problem.

He has also not yet overcome his fear of heights. Anything on land is fine, as long as there's no need to be hoisted any place. Perhaps one day he'll learn to enjoy it, but for now he'd rather go stomping about in full kit than to be sent up somewhere.

Background: Born as a gypsy his early years were wrought with uncertainty. His health at first rather frail, he was not certain to make it through the first year. Even later he had often been best suited to beg in the streets, since he had indeed looked poorly enough, without the need to loose a actual limb. As his health improved gradually he already knew enough of ways to pick the pockets of those better off, and had later become the runner as much as the thief. The runner being the one who would have taken the stolen object from the one that was the thief, so as to confuse the prosecutors.

Being born in the family of nine children, being the tenth, his clothes always consisted of the passed down, which could well be blamed for him feeling cold most of the time. His group traveled often, and attended fairs frequently while spending the time in between camped on people's land. A chicken could go missing, and crop lost, while in a town or city pockets were most frequently searched. While at fairs, there was the trade to consider, such as fortune telling and horse selling.

When once at such a fair, he saw a marine drummer tapping away at his drum, and a few redcoats with their bayonets, muskets and brass shined to perfection. Eager to see what all the fuss was about, he slipped away and came to hear of the promises that a life in the marines offered. Food offered, and his imagination tickled with the thought of adventure, of prize money and riches the world had never seen, he hurried to mark his name and enlist before he spared a proper thought for it.

It was only once he had his first taste of drill, and weighed the heavy musket he had to carry, that he realised that all was not sunshine and roses. There were some positive things to consider though too, the coat that he was given was the warmest he had worn, not passed on from any other man even if a bit too big. His trousers were not patched up, nor did they sport any holes that would let the draft in where one least wanted it. He was given a pair of shoes. Another of the things that left him wobbling about thinking them first rather uncomfortable, tight and restricting. His gaiters looked like a lifetime to button and his first time he'd turned them about, thinking what sort of garment they've given him.

Since the transport ship that was meant for them was to sail off in a short time, the rest of his training was postponed till he boarded it and even then for a while till he found where his stomach had gone and why it had protested dearly against staying with him. The first days he remembers as that of the most cruel of experiences. But then, he'd been sick and unable to hold much if any food in, wishing that he had not followed that damned lobster that brought this on him. Once things improved he learned to enjoy the time he spent aboard even if in crammed quarters, though he never could understand why Tars enjoyed to go up those large sticks, which he later learned were called masts.

His family was never to learn where the lad had disappeared to.

Anything Else: He believes in mermaids.
Writing Sample/Past Roleplay: '' 'ey you better rub that up nice n' proper. Remember what t' sergeant did last time.''

He was sleepy. The light was poor and the ill feeling wasn't completely gone either. He had been at it for a good portion of a quarter of an hour, which sounded like a time wasted in full. Wasn't it good enough? It reflected light, or would have if there was enough of it there! And then there was the whitening of his crossbelts and he had to work on his musket too. It was heavy and had his arms hurt if he was to work about it for a long time. The fact that it was indeed more front heavy didn't help the arm that had to hold further from his body.

"..Am done." He spoke stubbornly and placed the brass plate to his left. It stood there a moment and then tipped over as if by it's own will. He cursed and leaned down, first to fetch the thing and then to wipe the dirt that it had just so landed in.

"Not till it looks like this." The marine answered and held up his own brass plate, which was indeed in a perfect reflective state. "..Mine was dull from t' start.. ain't a good one they've given me." The youth murmured , eyeing his rather dejectedly. "If you hadn't tried that strange salve on it you've gotten off a Tar, you might not have been having such a trouble with it."

"He promised it would make it a quicker one." The youth murmured and frowned. It would be a long day, if things would continue in just such a way.

Code Phrase: Admin edit

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Terence Whyte
Able Seaman

Species : Royal Marines, Boy Private
Number of posts : 55
Member since : 2012-02-03

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Re: Terence Whyte

Post  Sharpiefan on Fri Feb 03, 2012 1:51 am

Accepted. marine

Miss Emma Vickery
Captain John Vickery, 5/60th Rifles
Rifleman Gabriel Cotton, 5/60th Rifles
Private George Thompson, Royal Marines
Private Tom Oxley, Royal Marines drummer
Able Seaman Sam Oxley, Royal Navy
Boy 3rd Class Terry Button, Royal Navy

Species : Master Jester
Number of posts : 884
Location : In the background, keeping things going
Member since : 2008-05-14

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