Post by Aleksandr Petrov on Jul 14, 2006 16:10:53 GMT -5
Name: Aleksandr Petrov
Age: 27
Parents: Peter Demidov, Elizaveta Demidova
Pirate or No Pirate (we can't all be pirates): Pirate
History: Petrov was born in the Russian cold-water port of Arkhangelsk which, despite it's deceptive name, was far from "angelic". Life was harsh, though not as harsh as the Russian winter. What little his family had was spread among his large amount of siblings, leaving little for each. One had to steal to survive, or face not having enough. Alex's joy came when the summer finally thawed the port and allowed the merchants, his father among them, begin to ship to and from England, Spain, and his favorite, the Carribean. When he finally came of age he followed his father's footsteps...er, waves, to the sea. Unfortunatley, he found them to be just like the land. To survive, you had to be rich or be a pirate. And since he didn't have much money...If you can't beat them, join them.
Appearance (a picture will do):
Example RP (one or two paragraphs):
As usual, Remoc was strolling around the campus on his nightly walk. Odd, yes, but refreshing. Not only was it rather brisk in the late hours, and the Russian boy did enjoy his cold weather, but there was also no one else around. That meant both some peace and quiet and, to be blunt, no pesky teachers around if he went anywhere that was off-limits.
He usually just let his mind wander and, thus, his feet as well. Sometimes they carried him to the courtyard, sometimes up to the towers. Once he even walked up to the girls dormitory completly unaware. That was an awkward moment...
And one of which shall never be spoken of again, so long as he lives.
Finally taking a look at his surrondings he realized that tonight they had led him to the older wing of the school, where unused classrooms sat in malicious wait to torture...er, teach children. He realized that he'd never actually seen one of these old classrooms, and so despite the dark he went in to explore one. The poor, and foolish, boy didn't even use a spell to light his path.
"Prohklyatuy table! Dyarmoh. If I knew any Dark Arts I'd blow you into a thousand pieces, you Ooblyudohk!" Were the words that reverberated loudly through the old hallways. Still muttering undr his breath, he turned around to see, in the dim moonlight through a window, Claudia laughing at him.
Age: 27
Parents: Peter Demidov, Elizaveta Demidova
Pirate or No Pirate (we can't all be pirates): Pirate
History: Petrov was born in the Russian cold-water port of Arkhangelsk which, despite it's deceptive name, was far from "angelic". Life was harsh, though not as harsh as the Russian winter. What little his family had was spread among his large amount of siblings, leaving little for each. One had to steal to survive, or face not having enough. Alex's joy came when the summer finally thawed the port and allowed the merchants, his father among them, begin to ship to and from England, Spain, and his favorite, the Carribean. When he finally came of age he followed his father's footsteps...er, waves, to the sea. Unfortunatley, he found them to be just like the land. To survive, you had to be rich or be a pirate. And since he didn't have much money...If you can't beat them, join them.
Appearance (a picture will do):
Example RP (one or two paragraphs):
As usual, Remoc was strolling around the campus on his nightly walk. Odd, yes, but refreshing. Not only was it rather brisk in the late hours, and the Russian boy did enjoy his cold weather, but there was also no one else around. That meant both some peace and quiet and, to be blunt, no pesky teachers around if he went anywhere that was off-limits.
He usually just let his mind wander and, thus, his feet as well. Sometimes they carried him to the courtyard, sometimes up to the towers. Once he even walked up to the girls dormitory completly unaware. That was an awkward moment...
And one of which shall never be spoken of again, so long as he lives.
Finally taking a look at his surrondings he realized that tonight they had led him to the older wing of the school, where unused classrooms sat in malicious wait to torture...er, teach children. He realized that he'd never actually seen one of these old classrooms, and so despite the dark he went in to explore one. The poor, and foolish, boy didn't even use a spell to light his path.
"Prohklyatuy table! Dyarmoh. If I knew any Dark Arts I'd blow you into a thousand pieces, you Ooblyudohk!" Were the words that reverberated loudly through the old hallways. Still muttering undr his breath, he turned around to see, in the dim moonlight through a window, Claudia laughing at him.
