James Brooker

[James Brooker]

First Last

I unfortunately have no idea who it was that took this photo, so cannot credit them with it.

I don't mind, to seem unusually unkind,
you asked what kind of guy am I?
I'm a friend to the irresponsible fools
who don't have time for rules.
~ Voltaire, Irresponsible

Name:
James Brooker
Nicknames/Titles:
Currently none
Age:
James is 28, and appears as such.
Gender:
Male
Sexual Orientation:
Gay
Occupation:
In title he is an adventurer, in reality he's far more likely to wait around until he finds any form of errand that someone will pay him for and will likely give him a chance to whip out his knives along the way.
Class:
Middle class
Marital Status:
Single
Belongings:
A pair of long knives that would be far more suited to a life slicing meat rather than as weapons. A simple cloth bag, and provisions enough for a couple of days, possibly a little more if desperate.

Physical Description:
He looks to be a little younger than he is only by a few years, most would place him at around 24 to 26. His skin is relatively pale despite spending much of his time outside, largely due to a tendency to wear clothes covering as much exposed skin as possible as he is far more likely to burn than tan. He had a single scarred bite-mark between his shoulder-blades, something that was rarely visible, albeit mostly because he had few low backed tops and doesn't go topless for aforementioned reasons. His hair is a mid brown, nothing remarkable at all really. His eyes are lighter, close to the colour of amber. The muscles that lined his body aren't exactly apparent, he's wiry in build, thin but with enough strength to at least run rather quickly if need be.

Play-by:
Tomek Szczukiecki

Overall personality:
Depending largely upon his mood and who exactly he is talking to James tends to either be charming in a rather smug manner, or far more likely, a sarcastic and argumentative bother who is far too fond of picking at the flaws and faults of others whilst entirely ignoring his own. He could be said that he is a good person deep down, but considering the lack of proof for this, it's doubtful that he is.

Likes:

• A good verbal sparring match.
  
• Acquiring anything for free.
  
• Rain
  

Dislikes:

• Squirrels, they bite.
  
• Hot weather
  
• A large percentage of the population.
  

Strengths:

• Quick-witted
  
• Proficient with knives in close range fighting.
  
• Rather good at knowing the correct time to turn and flee.
  
• Loyal
  

Weaknesses:

• Tends to be attacked by his allies rather more frequently than by whatever they should be fighting.
  
• Doesn't know when to stop speaking.
  
• Doesn't have a great deal of physical strength.
  

Quirks:

• Uses mocking both as a sign of affection and dislike.
  
• Refuses to use an implement to eat anything that could be eaten without the use of one.
  

Fears:
He fears heights, it is not quite a phobia, but when looking over any sharp drop he is likely to freeze and begin to slowly tip forward perhaps out of some sort of strange lemming instinct, or perhaps he just feels as if he is doing so.
He's also not fond of other people confining him although he is perfectly fine with doing so to himself.
Secrets:
He finds dresses suspiciously comfortable, his knives are stolen from his mother's kitchen.

Mother:
Ruth Fletcher.
Father:
Richard Brooker.
Siblings:
He is an only child due to complications during his own birth.
Pets:
None, he once had a dog, but that was back when he was about 10.
Other:
He has a border-line unhealthy relationship with his own ego.
Overall history:
James grew up with his parents, it was a simple enough life but the young boy was bored and dreamed of more than the life of a tailor like his father. As such he decided to leave home, rather determined he did so, although only to the other side of the village to ask the butcher for a job. When rejected for this his resolve settled somewhat, only strengthened by just how bad he was as a tailor.

At the age of 21 he left home, taking with him the kitchen knives and headed toward Niella to seek an income and a better way of life. He still seeks both, currently as a rather inept adventurer.


Hi, my chat account is Hubris.
I am 18 and I've been role-playing for around about 6 years.


Role-playing sample:
James walked through the bustling streets, glancing around at the people racing this way and that on their own errands. He’d never gotten used to that, not really, he liked towns small enough where everyone knew your name, probably knew your parents and damned if they didn’t know when your birthday was too. Here was so impersonal, you passed different people constantly and never stopped to greet them and it was rare if you so much as recognized them after that if they did cross paths with you again after that.

Maybe it was for the best, at least here there were jobs, ones that looked interesting even. More than he could have found at home, far more, and you really wouldn’t believe how hard it was to get people to take you seriously when they’d seen you running crying whilst being chased by a wasp, he’d been 7 for crying out loud. He noticed that his grip on the handle of one of his knives had tightened enough to leave an indent on his palm from the wooden grip. Thinking of which, he really did need to get better weapons than these, the blades had more than enough notches in them from where they had hit scale, bone, occasionally armour…or a rock. They were sharp enough though, he made sure of that. Besides, it had been months since they had had a chance to be blunted by anything except disuse. People seemed to find the fact that he wasn’t willing to go off on a quest that would reasonably take a dozen people, by himself, a disappointment. Personally he’d rather stay alive than live up to their ridiculous expectations.