Post by Soxguest on Jun 3, 2007 16:52:16 GMT -5
Name: James Norrington
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Allegiance: Ex-Naval Officer ( Lieutenant, Commodore, Admiral), Neutral
Occupation:: Norrington is rather new to the pirate business, and as such, often feels set apart from the others, mostly by his own choice. He hops ships often enough, but is gaining a reputation both as a swordsman, and a tactical genius. With his natural tendency to take command, he’s bound to get a promotion one day.
Weapon of Choice: Sword. Rapier or Cutlass preferably, but really any kind would do. Norrington is spectacular with a blade, second only to William Turner, and matching Barbossa in skill. Since his last weapon was destroyed, Norrington invested much of his sizable wealth into a new one, not quite up to par with the Turner forged blade, but still fit a man used to the perks of being a high ranking officer in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. Despite this, Norrington tries to keep his talent hidden, so as not to attract attention to himself. He is, after all, supposed to be dead.
Home Town/Island: Norrington lives wherever, and spends most of his time on various ships. When he does make berth, however, he tends to stay in the more reputable areas. He has visited Port Royale only a handful of times, due to fear of discovery.
Ship: Norrington is between ships, at present. He’s hoping to eventually become First Mate to one of the more well known pirates.
Appearance: Rather dashing, Norrington definitely looks a lot more human, now that he is not confined to a million layers of stiff clothing, and stuck beneath a powdered wig. He still retains his good, rather British clothing tastes, but the wig just had to go.
Though it didn’t survive the stabbing incident completely unscathed, Norrington retained his Admiral’s uniform. He doesn’t often wear it around the ship, as it makes the other crew members uneasy, but he still has it. Usually now, he wears ‘normal’ clothes, such as any other citizen might wear. His boots are black leather, calf-high, with turned down tops, as the style demands, his pants are black or brown, often fraying at the bottoms. His shirts are usually white blouses, minus the frilly cuffs and neck, which hang open down his chest. He wears some sort of waistcoat, and is rarely seen without his Admiral’s hat (shorn of useless decoration) somewhere nearby.
Physically, James is fit. He is over six-foot, resting at a comfortable six-one… and that’s without the boots. Lithe of body, and long of limb, he creates a formidable opponent. Despite his almost ungainly appearance, he is well muscled, though lean, and can move amazingly fast in activities such as fencing ( which he is fairly proficient at with either hand, though much better with his right ) climbing rigging, etc. He is also stronger than he looks, having spent his life on the sea.
His facial structure is dashing, with a firm, square jaw, and a round face. He has expressive green eyes, a smile which, though rare, is definitely worth waiting for, and brown hair.
Though not possessing the rugged good looks of William Turner, or the exotic beauty of Jack, James is certainly attractive… a fact which is surprisingly evident beneath his lack of any facial hair.
Personality: At first glance, James Norrington may appear cold, rigid, and slightly arrogant, though that superficial evaluation of his personality is much diminished, now that he is not held to such formalities as was ‘fitting’ an admiral. Though a pirate, James keeps himself under a tight reign, keeping himself to his strong morals, and turning a blind eye to the immorality around him.
He is a compassionate, caring man, who has the ability to determine between right and wrong. He is not driven solely by his own desires, but tends to put others ahead of himself, in whatever situation meets him. He is surprisingly empathetic, and would give the shirt off his back to someone in need. Perhaps the only area in which he has no sympathy, is cruelty. He is strong, and will not hesitate to dish out justice where he finds it due.
How is it then, that a man like this associates with pirates?
Norrington carries a lot of guilt around, and feels it his only course to become a renegade. He is not a pirate in the traditional sense, pillaging, plundering, but rather sails the oceans under his own set of rules. The Navy had failed him, and he couldn’t find it in his heart to join up with those he had spent his life hating, so James struck out on his own. He takes his share of the loot, surely, but refuses to participate in any act he feels unjust. For example, innocents are not to be harmed, but Norrington has no qualms about robbing other pirates, or defending himself against the British Navy.
Having decided that drowning in his guilt was not the course of action, James seeks to make amends for his past wrongs by serving as best he can. He’s not out for glory, or adventure… but he is finding it harder and harder to avoid such things. Watch out pirate world, James Norrington is coming.
History: James had a rather non-descript childhood. His father had been in the navy, and his father before him, and his father before him, and so on. Enrolling as a cabin boy at age twelve, Norrington had large shoes to fill. Unsurprisingly, he proved himself to be more than capable at sea, and soon rose in the world.
James was promoted to Commodore at the age of twenty-eight, and Admiral before he reached his thirtieth birthday.
During his long stint at Port Royale, James Norrington became accustomed to the finer things in life, and also encountered the people who would ultimately bring him to the end of the Navy part of life, and into new beginnings as a Pirate. The transition took years, but it all started with the events of the Black Pearl attacking the Port.
Norrington, obviously, went after it, not only to apprehend the dangerous Pirate Lord Captain Hector Barbossa, but to save Elizabeth, who had been captured.
He failed in the last aspect.
While preparing to leave the Isle de Muerta, Norrington decided to venture onto the island, to search for any stragglers, make sure his men were obeying the order not to enter, and other such Commadore-ish duties. He came upon /the/ chest of coins. A familiar undead monkey solidified his inner desire, and Norrington couldn’t help himself but to ‘confiscate’ such dangerous materials. That was the first step.
He later took the chest ( after requesting a short leave of absence ) and buried it, finding the situation agreeable for two-fold reasons. One, it was handy in a perilous position such as his to have a little security on the job, and two, if the coins were buried, no-one could get themselves into a world of trouble by accidentally getting cursed.
Using ‘What good am I to everyone dead?’ as justification for his actions, Norrington spent the next while in and out of the Aztec’s curse, enjoying the benefits, and tolerating the definite downsides. He was careful not to be seen in moonlight ( it was much easier to complete that task when covered from his Adam’s apple down in clothes, and wearing a large hat which cast a shadow ), and all seemed to work out perfectly until the hurricane.
Struck with survivors guilt, James fell to rock bottom. He broke the curse, and spent the next while wallowing in guilt in Tortuga, until the issue of the Flying Dutchman came up, and he was offered compensation for a little cooperation by a certain Cutler Becket. He couldn’t refuse, and for perhaps once in his life, ignored his standards, and truly became a pirate.
He was restored to his position, and even promoted further, to Admiral. His dream had come true, but at a great price. Norrington was commanded to do things that, though lawful, were not right, and along with the guilt carried by his actions with the heart of Davy Jones, James spent the next while feeling horrible, and empty.
Norrington now felt that he needed to stay alive long enough to apologize to Elizabeth, and he put himself under the curse once more, wearing the piece of Aztec gold on a leather thong beneath his uniform. He felt the effects of the curse as strongly as ever, but this time bore it gladly, feeling that he deserved nothing less than the constant suffering it put him in. Amazingly enough, Elizabeth soon showed up, and James really felt that he could be absolved of his sins as a pirate. Bootstrap stabbed him, the pain thankfully dulled by the curse. Putting on his best act, James managed to get himself away to some barren shore to begin a new life.
Other: Yeah, the parts with the chest are of my own creation, as to find a logical explanation that Norrington could survive being stabbed. Because, if you think about it, it technically /could/ be possible, and just not documented by the movies. Sure, there’s a few glitches, such as how the monkey was undead the whole time, but it’s the best I’ve heard so far, so hopefully it’s passable. Soyeah.
Roleplay Sample:
((An intro I wrote a few days ago for a PotC rp. Don’t worry, it’s an /intro/ so not all of my posts are this long.))
With a satisfied smirk set firmly upon his face, the Ex-Admiral James Norrington rolled the coin between his fingers skillfully, a trick he had perfected as a boy, but had never had time to display. It was amazing, how much one retained from childhood, really. He felt quite proud of himself, for once, as if he'd really accomplished something. Even the little things pleased him now, things he never even would have blinked at, before. Death had a curious way of reshuffling one’s priorities. Near death, at least.
With an almost childish look of concentration on his face, Norrington flipped the coin up into the air, letting it land squarely on the back of his rather pale hand. A leering skull of Aztec design glared back at him, before disappearing into his palm as he flipped his hand over skillfully. Catching the gold piece in mid-air, James shook his head. He never would have thought he could be so grateful for a monkey.
Yes, he owed his life to a monkey. Barbossa’s monkey, to be precise. The monkey was the one who had led him to the chest, and the chest… well, that was why he was here, on this god-forsaken strip of land, now wasn’t it? Slipping the coin back into the pocket of his plain black breeches, James picked up the spade, where it stood in the sand, nearby.
With a grunt, he dug the shovel into the dirt before him, wincing as it glanced off one of the many rocks around, and sent a sharp jarring through his entire body. He rolled his eyes, and took two steps to his left, trying again. This time the spade buried itself deep. Norrington began to dig. Humming an old pirate song he had heard many of his former prisoners sing, he started to work, trying to unbury the chest of cursed gold he had found so many years back.
It was handy, to be immortal, but having many furious heathen gods after you had it’s downsides. Such as the fact that he could hardly taste the food he had eaten for the past month or two, or the rum he downed ( to his dismay, he had become quite fond of the drink again, now that he had no duty to the crown now that he had been ‘killed’ )… or that the warmth from Elizabeth Swann’s lips on his own brought no warmth to him.
A deep ‘thud’ alerted him to the fact that he had found the chest. He tossed the shovel away, and hopped down into the sizable hole he had dug, and in record time, too. Norrington paused, and arched his back, rolling his neck and sighing as it cracked, relieving the pressure that had built up as he shoveled. He brushed a strand of deep brown hair from his face, and stared up at the sun. Of course, though he couldn’t feel any pleasurable warmth, the blistering heat of the sun practically seared his flesh off his bones.
Hah. Flesh.
Well, it soon would be flesh once more, moonlight, or sunlight.
Norrington would be glad to be rid of the curse, though he had only used it a few times, and only to his advantage. He couldn’t imagine, being stuck like this, all the time, as Hector Barbossa and his crew had. James slipped out of his loose, white blouse, and tossed it out of the hole, and onto the sand. Surprisingly, he didn’t care if it got dirty. It was liberating.
Now, bare chested, James felt more like a Pirate than ever. Perhaps he had lied to Elizabeth, though unintentionally, when he told her he cared about other people more than himself. No, he hadn’t said that. He had said he had cared about others, as well as himself. That certainly was true… then what had he done by taking this coin? Who did it benefit besides himself? A good question, and one he didn’t care to answer at the present time.
Tracing the small scar on his chest, where Bootstrap had stabbed him, James felt suddenly filled with conflict. What if something happened again? Wouldn’t it be best to just stay cursed? Then again though, it was horrible, and was getting worse every day. He wasn’t used to making decisions that affected him alone. Biting his lip, Norrington sighed, and sank down onto the sands, leaning up against the tall walls of the hole. He knew from experience that the damp dirt must be cool… but he couldn’t feel it.
That made up his mind quickly.
Perhaps… perhaps Elizabeth would still love him. And he wouldn’t be cursed when he found out.
Snatching a small, but ornate dagger from the belt of his black, standard issue Admiral pants, James sliced a small cut into his hand. Thankfully, as a commanding officer in the British Navy, he could stand up to a lot. Pressing the gold piece to his hand, he chucked it in, and immediately reeled with the world of new sensations that awaited him. He had taken such things for granted.
James Norrington was a new man.
Closing the chest, he scaled the walls of his hole, and scampered to the top. He let out a loud, long laugh, and fell back, grinning onto the soft sands, holding his hand ( which was bleeding freely ) to his chest. He didn’t even care, his hair was fly-away, or that he was getting blood all over his chest.
It was good to be alive.
So, a few minutes later, after staunching the flow of blood, and binding his wound, ( not to mention slipping his shirt over his torso ), James filled in the hole, and stood back, surveying his handiwork.
Amazing.
He started away towards the shore, content. Why wouldn’t he be? He had a life to live, after all.
A life to live was a reason worth living.
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Allegiance: Ex-Naval Officer ( Lieutenant, Commodore, Admiral), Neutral
Occupation:: Norrington is rather new to the pirate business, and as such, often feels set apart from the others, mostly by his own choice. He hops ships often enough, but is gaining a reputation both as a swordsman, and a tactical genius. With his natural tendency to take command, he’s bound to get a promotion one day.
Weapon of Choice: Sword. Rapier or Cutlass preferably, but really any kind would do. Norrington is spectacular with a blade, second only to William Turner, and matching Barbossa in skill. Since his last weapon was destroyed, Norrington invested much of his sizable wealth into a new one, not quite up to par with the Turner forged blade, but still fit a man used to the perks of being a high ranking officer in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy. Despite this, Norrington tries to keep his talent hidden, so as not to attract attention to himself. He is, after all, supposed to be dead.
Home Town/Island: Norrington lives wherever, and spends most of his time on various ships. When he does make berth, however, he tends to stay in the more reputable areas. He has visited Port Royale only a handful of times, due to fear of discovery.
Ship: Norrington is between ships, at present. He’s hoping to eventually become First Mate to one of the more well known pirates.
Appearance: Rather dashing, Norrington definitely looks a lot more human, now that he is not confined to a million layers of stiff clothing, and stuck beneath a powdered wig. He still retains his good, rather British clothing tastes, but the wig just had to go.
Though it didn’t survive the stabbing incident completely unscathed, Norrington retained his Admiral’s uniform. He doesn’t often wear it around the ship, as it makes the other crew members uneasy, but he still has it. Usually now, he wears ‘normal’ clothes, such as any other citizen might wear. His boots are black leather, calf-high, with turned down tops, as the style demands, his pants are black or brown, often fraying at the bottoms. His shirts are usually white blouses, minus the frilly cuffs and neck, which hang open down his chest. He wears some sort of waistcoat, and is rarely seen without his Admiral’s hat (shorn of useless decoration) somewhere nearby.
Physically, James is fit. He is over six-foot, resting at a comfortable six-one… and that’s without the boots. Lithe of body, and long of limb, he creates a formidable opponent. Despite his almost ungainly appearance, he is well muscled, though lean, and can move amazingly fast in activities such as fencing ( which he is fairly proficient at with either hand, though much better with his right ) climbing rigging, etc. He is also stronger than he looks, having spent his life on the sea.
His facial structure is dashing, with a firm, square jaw, and a round face. He has expressive green eyes, a smile which, though rare, is definitely worth waiting for, and brown hair.
Though not possessing the rugged good looks of William Turner, or the exotic beauty of Jack, James is certainly attractive… a fact which is surprisingly evident beneath his lack of any facial hair.
Personality: At first glance, James Norrington may appear cold, rigid, and slightly arrogant, though that superficial evaluation of his personality is much diminished, now that he is not held to such formalities as was ‘fitting’ an admiral. Though a pirate, James keeps himself under a tight reign, keeping himself to his strong morals, and turning a blind eye to the immorality around him.
He is a compassionate, caring man, who has the ability to determine between right and wrong. He is not driven solely by his own desires, but tends to put others ahead of himself, in whatever situation meets him. He is surprisingly empathetic, and would give the shirt off his back to someone in need. Perhaps the only area in which he has no sympathy, is cruelty. He is strong, and will not hesitate to dish out justice where he finds it due.
How is it then, that a man like this associates with pirates?
Norrington carries a lot of guilt around, and feels it his only course to become a renegade. He is not a pirate in the traditional sense, pillaging, plundering, but rather sails the oceans under his own set of rules. The Navy had failed him, and he couldn’t find it in his heart to join up with those he had spent his life hating, so James struck out on his own. He takes his share of the loot, surely, but refuses to participate in any act he feels unjust. For example, innocents are not to be harmed, but Norrington has no qualms about robbing other pirates, or defending himself against the British Navy.
Having decided that drowning in his guilt was not the course of action, James seeks to make amends for his past wrongs by serving as best he can. He’s not out for glory, or adventure… but he is finding it harder and harder to avoid such things. Watch out pirate world, James Norrington is coming.
History: James had a rather non-descript childhood. His father had been in the navy, and his father before him, and his father before him, and so on. Enrolling as a cabin boy at age twelve, Norrington had large shoes to fill. Unsurprisingly, he proved himself to be more than capable at sea, and soon rose in the world.
James was promoted to Commodore at the age of twenty-eight, and Admiral before he reached his thirtieth birthday.
During his long stint at Port Royale, James Norrington became accustomed to the finer things in life, and also encountered the people who would ultimately bring him to the end of the Navy part of life, and into new beginnings as a Pirate. The transition took years, but it all started with the events of the Black Pearl attacking the Port.
Norrington, obviously, went after it, not only to apprehend the dangerous Pirate Lord Captain Hector Barbossa, but to save Elizabeth, who had been captured.
He failed in the last aspect.
While preparing to leave the Isle de Muerta, Norrington decided to venture onto the island, to search for any stragglers, make sure his men were obeying the order not to enter, and other such Commadore-ish duties. He came upon /the/ chest of coins. A familiar undead monkey solidified his inner desire, and Norrington couldn’t help himself but to ‘confiscate’ such dangerous materials. That was the first step.
He later took the chest ( after requesting a short leave of absence ) and buried it, finding the situation agreeable for two-fold reasons. One, it was handy in a perilous position such as his to have a little security on the job, and two, if the coins were buried, no-one could get themselves into a world of trouble by accidentally getting cursed.
Using ‘What good am I to everyone dead?’ as justification for his actions, Norrington spent the next while in and out of the Aztec’s curse, enjoying the benefits, and tolerating the definite downsides. He was careful not to be seen in moonlight ( it was much easier to complete that task when covered from his Adam’s apple down in clothes, and wearing a large hat which cast a shadow ), and all seemed to work out perfectly until the hurricane.
Struck with survivors guilt, James fell to rock bottom. He broke the curse, and spent the next while wallowing in guilt in Tortuga, until the issue of the Flying Dutchman came up, and he was offered compensation for a little cooperation by a certain Cutler Becket. He couldn’t refuse, and for perhaps once in his life, ignored his standards, and truly became a pirate.
He was restored to his position, and even promoted further, to Admiral. His dream had come true, but at a great price. Norrington was commanded to do things that, though lawful, were not right, and along with the guilt carried by his actions with the heart of Davy Jones, James spent the next while feeling horrible, and empty.
Norrington now felt that he needed to stay alive long enough to apologize to Elizabeth, and he put himself under the curse once more, wearing the piece of Aztec gold on a leather thong beneath his uniform. He felt the effects of the curse as strongly as ever, but this time bore it gladly, feeling that he deserved nothing less than the constant suffering it put him in. Amazingly enough, Elizabeth soon showed up, and James really felt that he could be absolved of his sins as a pirate. Bootstrap stabbed him, the pain thankfully dulled by the curse. Putting on his best act, James managed to get himself away to some barren shore to begin a new life.
Other: Yeah, the parts with the chest are of my own creation, as to find a logical explanation that Norrington could survive being stabbed. Because, if you think about it, it technically /could/ be possible, and just not documented by the movies. Sure, there’s a few glitches, such as how the monkey was undead the whole time, but it’s the best I’ve heard so far, so hopefully it’s passable. Soyeah.
Roleplay Sample:
((An intro I wrote a few days ago for a PotC rp. Don’t worry, it’s an /intro/ so not all of my posts are this long.))
With a satisfied smirk set firmly upon his face, the Ex-Admiral James Norrington rolled the coin between his fingers skillfully, a trick he had perfected as a boy, but had never had time to display. It was amazing, how much one retained from childhood, really. He felt quite proud of himself, for once, as if he'd really accomplished something. Even the little things pleased him now, things he never even would have blinked at, before. Death had a curious way of reshuffling one’s priorities. Near death, at least.
With an almost childish look of concentration on his face, Norrington flipped the coin up into the air, letting it land squarely on the back of his rather pale hand. A leering skull of Aztec design glared back at him, before disappearing into his palm as he flipped his hand over skillfully. Catching the gold piece in mid-air, James shook his head. He never would have thought he could be so grateful for a monkey.
Yes, he owed his life to a monkey. Barbossa’s monkey, to be precise. The monkey was the one who had led him to the chest, and the chest… well, that was why he was here, on this god-forsaken strip of land, now wasn’t it? Slipping the coin back into the pocket of his plain black breeches, James picked up the spade, where it stood in the sand, nearby.
With a grunt, he dug the shovel into the dirt before him, wincing as it glanced off one of the many rocks around, and sent a sharp jarring through his entire body. He rolled his eyes, and took two steps to his left, trying again. This time the spade buried itself deep. Norrington began to dig. Humming an old pirate song he had heard many of his former prisoners sing, he started to work, trying to unbury the chest of cursed gold he had found so many years back.
It was handy, to be immortal, but having many furious heathen gods after you had it’s downsides. Such as the fact that he could hardly taste the food he had eaten for the past month or two, or the rum he downed ( to his dismay, he had become quite fond of the drink again, now that he had no duty to the crown now that he had been ‘killed’ )… or that the warmth from Elizabeth Swann’s lips on his own brought no warmth to him.
A deep ‘thud’ alerted him to the fact that he had found the chest. He tossed the shovel away, and hopped down into the sizable hole he had dug, and in record time, too. Norrington paused, and arched his back, rolling his neck and sighing as it cracked, relieving the pressure that had built up as he shoveled. He brushed a strand of deep brown hair from his face, and stared up at the sun. Of course, though he couldn’t feel any pleasurable warmth, the blistering heat of the sun practically seared his flesh off his bones.
Hah. Flesh.
Well, it soon would be flesh once more, moonlight, or sunlight.
Norrington would be glad to be rid of the curse, though he had only used it a few times, and only to his advantage. He couldn’t imagine, being stuck like this, all the time, as Hector Barbossa and his crew had. James slipped out of his loose, white blouse, and tossed it out of the hole, and onto the sand. Surprisingly, he didn’t care if it got dirty. It was liberating.
Now, bare chested, James felt more like a Pirate than ever. Perhaps he had lied to Elizabeth, though unintentionally, when he told her he cared about other people more than himself. No, he hadn’t said that. He had said he had cared about others, as well as himself. That certainly was true… then what had he done by taking this coin? Who did it benefit besides himself? A good question, and one he didn’t care to answer at the present time.
Tracing the small scar on his chest, where Bootstrap had stabbed him, James felt suddenly filled with conflict. What if something happened again? Wouldn’t it be best to just stay cursed? Then again though, it was horrible, and was getting worse every day. He wasn’t used to making decisions that affected him alone. Biting his lip, Norrington sighed, and sank down onto the sands, leaning up against the tall walls of the hole. He knew from experience that the damp dirt must be cool… but he couldn’t feel it.
That made up his mind quickly.
Perhaps… perhaps Elizabeth would still love him. And he wouldn’t be cursed when he found out.
Snatching a small, but ornate dagger from the belt of his black, standard issue Admiral pants, James sliced a small cut into his hand. Thankfully, as a commanding officer in the British Navy, he could stand up to a lot. Pressing the gold piece to his hand, he chucked it in, and immediately reeled with the world of new sensations that awaited him. He had taken such things for granted.
James Norrington was a new man.
Closing the chest, he scaled the walls of his hole, and scampered to the top. He let out a loud, long laugh, and fell back, grinning onto the soft sands, holding his hand ( which was bleeding freely ) to his chest. He didn’t even care, his hair was fly-away, or that he was getting blood all over his chest.
It was good to be alive.
So, a few minutes later, after staunching the flow of blood, and binding his wound, ( not to mention slipping his shirt over his torso ), James filled in the hole, and stood back, surveying his handiwork.
Amazing.
He started away towards the shore, content. Why wouldn’t he be? He had a life to live, after all.
A life to live was a reason worth living.