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Thomas "Just Thomas" Worthington

No really, it's just Thomas. A hand of The Rising Phoenix.

0 · 220 views · located in The Isles of Naere and the waters around.

a character in “Of Crests and Crowns”, as played by IvySeeker


Name: Thomas Worthington

Nickname: Just Thomas

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Weapon/Proficiency: Thomas's choice of weapon is most definitely the traditional crossbow that he always, always, keeps by his side. His arrows almost always hits their target, honed through years of grueling practice. Often found in the crow's nest, Thomas is as agile as a Southern monkey when it comes to racing through the rigging of the ship. A young lad leaning towards the wily side, he's not to good with close combat, and often comes out worse for the wear.

Appearance: The first thing that'll strike someone about Thomas are his laughing blue eyes. They are clear, dancing with the joy and excitement of the youthful years, and unclouded by brainless lust and greed. His cheeks are sprinkled with freckles from his childhood summers in the countryside, though most say his physique follows that of the nobles who stay in their stone cold prisons on the harsh land. His nose is slightly upturned, and his thin lips are often stretched thinner into a cheerful smile. The lad's hair is never neat, the red locks falling wherever they please in a mutinous chaos. The ends fall to just below the lobes of his ears and are swept away from his face to the right. Thomas has long wiry limbs, and spindly fingers that belong to an old fisherman's; They are long and calloused from months of handling ropes and tools. He stands at an average five foot six, though his leather boots often give him an inch more.

Personality: Thomas is a cheerful lad, no matter what situation he's in. He manages to keep a smile through the storms that batter his life, and through the quakes that rock his foundation. His eyes see not only the silver lining, but the clear skies beyond the horizon, even when the people around him think he's well, slightly listed. It's definitely no surprise that Thomas attacks every single one of his duties with an enthusiastic zeal that raises eyebrows in some, and condescending scoffs from others. He can easily make others comfortable, with his understanding stance and deferential attitude. As it is, he's only been on the wrong end of a weapon about once or twice.

Ironically, even though he's perfectly at home in the crow's nest and among the ropes, Thomas is unusually clumsy when it comes to walking on flat grounds, or in rooms. The corners or furniture and breakable objects just seem to draw his awkward limbs towards them unwittingly. More often than not, he finds his clumsy ways are at the butt of the rowdy jokes and jestings of the rest of the crew. But like the happy-go-lucky, easygoing lad he is, he just takes it with a smile and laughs alongside the rest of them. Thomas finds that he prefers to listen to others, instead of talking most of the time. Hence, he can provide a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on for anyone who needs one. As it is, he's known for keeping secrets. Not his own- dear no, the lad is an open book, but the secrets of others. Thomas will keep his lips sealed, no matter what is used to bribe, threaten, or coerce him with.

"Surely you can't be happy all the time?" People will ask him. Thomas will shrug and smile, all the while knowing that it's true. Thomas feels ordinary emotions too, just probably not at the same scale as everyone else. Anger, sadness, jealousy, hope, despair, he's felt each and every single one of them. Over time, he found it was better to be numb, so he stored them away. When people questioned his indifference, he put on a mask to please them. Over time, his fake smiles grew more genuine, and the happiness he now felt was no longer his imagination. As for his negative emotions, he bottles them up more tightly than his small stash of rum, and keeps it hidden in the brigs of his heart. If he refuses to acknowledge them, they'll become nothing more than a mere dream.

Biography: WIP

So begins...

Thomas "Just Thomas" Worthington's Story

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Character Portrait: Thomas "Just Thomas" Worthington
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"Lads, lasses we have ourselves some company, please do show them how hospitable we are."

The voice that spoke was dripping with authority, which no doubt meant he was either the quarter master or the captain, and yet curiously vague. In the darkness, Odessa smiled. It was controlled, and not tainted by the wild edge of excitement and excessive adrenalin. Perhaps that was a good sign. Her hand still remained on the hilt of her dagger though, not willing to take any risks. Odessa had already pushed it when she herself walked out onto the gangplank alone, easily shot down by the other ship should they decide to. If she jumped, it would be hard to get back on the ship without wasting precious time as the ladder that led to the waters was on the other side. Perhaps this small gesture of trust would serve to placate the people before her, to lower their hackles. As the same voice spoke, Odessa confirmed it within her mind that she was speaking to the captain of the ship. From what she could see, and hear, he seemed to be a man of selective judgement, yet wise when times called for it. The woman also noted that the figures on the deck numbered slightly lesser than those on her ship. These were probably the men that weren't staggering about like the land dwellers.

"Captain Dio," She responded, her voice formal. "My ship will be anchoring here for the night." Her tone was firm and decisive, hopefully a message to him that she would not be swayed by any attempts to chase them away. The chilly wind blew across her shoulders and raised some bumps, but Odessa only straightened further and refused to seem weak. "I believe it is in the best interests of both our crews if we remained on friendly terms." Her eyes glinted as she bent forward slightly, "A victory against a half-staffed ship is hardly a victory at all." Odessa laughed cheerily, waving her hand as if it were intended to be a joke. There was a cough from her end of the ship, distinctively Johnston's. Subtly, she shifted her hand to the back and mimed the action of firing a musket at him. It was only a bit of teasing, to see how far she could push this captain before he snapped. If the man's maturity was as developed as his stature, it wouldn't be much of a problem. However, if it wasn't, well... she'd deal with that when the time came. Besides, how childish could someone be after years at sea? Mentally, she snorted at herself. Old Johnny claimed she was as childish as his granddaughter occasionally, but Odessa knew when was the right time for fun and games, and when was not. She wouldn't put her crew in danger unnecessarily.

Had she heard of this Captain before? It wasn't hard to tell that this was a pirate ship. A merchant ship would not be as elaborately and daringly designed, especially if it's route was within the Whispering Sea. The Whispering Sea was the feeding round of the pirates, pirates like her. A ship would be wise not to draw too much attention to itself. Also, if this were a military ship, the crew might have been more organized, and less tipsy. Odessa grinned wolfishly, definitely not a military ship. What would the men of the badge get if they were drunk on duty? A slap on the wrist? A dishonourable discharge? On her ship, if they broke any of the Code of Conduct, they would either be dropped off at the nearest port, or if unlucky, the nearest deserted island. Odessa never whipped her crew- she wanted them healthy and intact, ready for anything.

Speaking of being ready for anything, when was that trade ship coming? A week ago, she had obtained a harbourmaster's log, and it wrote that a rather valuable ship from the Southern Isles would be passing by here. It would be inconvenient if they showed up whilst Captain Dio's ship was still here. Would they try to wrest the loot of the ship away from them? Odessa had been careful with the ship's treasury, but it would be nice to get some new barrels for water, preferably ones that didn't leak.
To put it very honestly, Thomas had been sleeping. He didn't mean to doze off, but the night seemed to drag on and on. Not to mention, the wind was nice and cooling- a welcome change from the balmy gusts of the South. He had been there once, before he signed onto the ship. Each time it blew in his face was like getting a blast of geyser steam. The man shuddered at the memory, feeling ghostly beads of sweat trickle down his spine. Eventually, dreaming of freshly caught cod and shiny brass buttons, he slumped in his post and started snoring. That was how one of the hands found him, legs propped up against the side and back against the main mast with his hands folded across his stomach.

"Oi, blimmin' bastard, you dozed off again!" Thomas jerked at the harsh cry, cracking open an eye to smile hazily at the man before him. He couldn't seem to remember his names- they all weaved in and out of his memory as they pleased, faint and elusive. "You've made the Capt'n mad, props to you." Perhaps I should get up, The man mused faintly, he does seem like he's got rats in his pants. Sighing, Thomas made a big show of stretching before sitting up, tilting his head upwards to salute mockingly at him.

"I'm up," He yawned, "what's the fire?" Then he leaned over the railing, to check for his imaginary fire. Perhaps he shouldn't have, for what he saw shocked him to the extent that he almost toppled over the edge. With sweaty palms, Thomas grabbed at one of the ropes to steady himself before turning back to the man behind him. "What in bloody hell is going on down there?" There was another ship beside them (When had that happened?) and a gangplank lay between the two. Standing precariously on the gangplank was a small figure- a woman. She seemed to be laughing mirthfully, though the crew back on her side didn't seem too amused. The lot of them were dressed in dark clothes, looming near the edge like protective guardians- all silent. Thomas whistled in mild amazement, "How is she still alive?" Their Captain had a notoriously bad temper, and he had thought that he wouldn't have tolerated all this.