Do you have any prior experience with Requiem? If so, please detail when (and what characters, if desired) you previously played: I played characters in Requiem's first iteration! Even did a touch of lore writing.
Briefly summarize your prior role-playing experience in a sentence or two:
Why do you wish to play on Requiem, and what do you expect from the shard?
I'd like to roleplay a drug addict duelist. I hear you guys have guns now.
What will your character’s name be?:
Claude Gambol
Please briefly describe the physical attributes of your character, including age, looks, height, weight and any notable features:
Claude is lithe, albeit with a slight paunch with a build that might be considered 'skinny fat'. He seems to be a man who has fallen on hard times. His once fine clothes are patched, and ruined from the road and a few too many benders. Looking to be in his late twenties and about five foot eight, his brown hair has several streaks of grey in it which are obviously premature given his otherwise youthful good looks.
Briefly state your character’s intentions or motivations for entering the First Province:
To find fortune, and do copious, unregulated drugs. Greatport isn't what it used to be.
Briefly provide a pertinent detail or notable quality of your character’s history (this does not have to be exhaustive nor revealing of any information you wish to keep secret):
A scion of the Gambol clan, he is quick to tell others that the Gambols are related to Gambles of Tor, and a distant cousin to Lord Kenneth Gamble, of Foundry Fame. Though this has never been substantiated, most people can track his history as utterly unremarkable, much like the rest of the Gambols. Spending time as a drab, dissilussioned Gendarmerie recruit stationed in Great Port, he followed orders like all the others, never seeing true horror, and stayed about as far away from military distinction as one can manage. A poor shot with a crossbow, and a worse swordsman, everything changed when the Mark 1 Pistole was laid squarely in his undeserving hands. A virtuoso, the otherwise boring recruit found something he was good at for the first time in his miserable life. He could shoot, and shoot he did. He tested nearly every gun the foundry produced- losing a finger and an eyebrow in the process. Though the eyebrow grew back, his middle left did not. Unfortunately, Claude's pride was a different story. It grew larger, along with his head- and a growing, albeit infamous celebrity for being a skilled duelist and crack shot. The money he earned taking risks turned quickly into drugs, booze, and whoring of anything with legs. As his dependencies grew, his skill declined as well, and he lost a second finger making a rookie mistake on the testing range. He was discharged dishonorably no less- hardly worth the Gendarmery's time or money to retain.
With nothing left- he set off for the first provence. Perhaps there he could find a pistol, and fortune to claim. Even with no guarentees, the unregulated environment offered all sorts of opportunities for a man like him.
Briefly write an in-character response to the following scenario:
You have finally arrived at your destination; the Rumbling Pass checkpoint. Before you stands a massive outpost, looking to have been erected only recently, of which is patrolled by numerous Legionnaires and Church Templar. The outpost guards the only viable entrance to the recently quarantined First Province; the home of Tor, the fallen capital of the Republic. Sitting at the foot of the massive mountain line that effectively contains the First Province within, the outpost serves as the last obstacle you must overcome before gaining entry into the quarantined territory. You and others like you assemble outside of the palisades of the outpost, awaiting the opportunity to speak your case to the presiding Legion officiant who is processing admittance to the Province.
You watch as but a scant few of the dozens that approach the officiant, whom stands at the outer gates of the outpost flanked by a few heavily armored Legionnaires, are actually allowed to pass through the man-door and into the outpost. You see some slip pieces of gold to the officiant, while others plead their cases and rationale as to why they should be allowed to enter the recently fallen territory. Some appear to provide some sort of paperwork to the officiant, whom promptly waves them through. While eavesdropping, you manage to overhear the well-rehearsed speech the officiant provides to those whom don’t provide paperwork or grease his palm.
“By decree of the Venerated Church, the First Province is considered to be a mortal health hazard, and as such, is quarantined under Article Eighteen of the Republic Treatise of Health Act of 1320. Citizens who do not possess a Quarantine Visa issued by one of the recognized Factions of the Republic are considered non-essential to the reclamation of the First Province. Under Article Eighteen, non-essentials seeking entry into an official quarantine zone must petition for entry into a said zone, and state just cause for the issuing of a visa by the perimeter authority. State your business and make it good, citizen; we’ve enough bodies in there to keep us busy for months without adding yours to the pile.”
You ponder the situation for a moment, evaluating your options. It’s well known that with the right connections and the right amount of coin, one can get their hands on a Quarantine Visa from any one of the major Factions of the Republic, or even a passable counterfeit from more nefarious sources. At the same time, it would appear that the officiant doesn’t appear to be above some simple bribery. However, you’re sure that some of those let in appeared to have made a convincing case with the officiant. Gathering your wits, you make your decision as to how to gain access to the First Province.
"Fortune follows, my good man- I am Claude Gambol, of the Gambols, you know- As in -lord- Kenneth Gamble? Surely you can understand that a man from a family such as mine doesn't have time to waste in lines like this!"
Claude smiled pleasantly, his yellowed teeth on proud display for all to see. It sometimes worked after all, why not now? Pulling on the Gamble connection may have worn out its welcome in Greatport, but who knows, he thought to himself- maybe closer to Tor he might be able to get away with it.
The guard wasn't looking thrilled- dubious at best so he continued- practically prattling-
Look, my eyes aren't even bloodshot! I've sworn off the stuff for weeks- I mean, I know the apothecary corp said if it looked like they were gonna' bleed, you wouldn't let me through- and now look- white as all those bones out there in the province! Come on darling, be a bold one, take a chance eh?
Claude twisted the smile into something a bit more flirtatious- wondering about who or what was under that silvered helmet. Whatever, suck or lick- he'd do what it took. He'd done worse in back alleys, this at least was in pursuit of something to better his miserable life.
"I'll even send back coin- what's your name? Really, call it a present- We Gambols always hold to our word once it's given. What do you say?"
Claude Gambol
Re: Claude Gambol
The Officiant leans aside to converse a short time with Thomas behind his hand; his eyes darting to and away from the rough "Dandy" in front of him. Their whispered conversation becomes heated a moment before Thomas moves forward to look the man over more closely: possibly examining him for signs of torment, after the man's words about red eyes. He shrugs at the Officiant before moving back into his place. The Officiant turns an oily smile on Claude. "Enjoy your time in the Province Milord." The title spoken with the slightest note of doubt, though the oily smile remains plastered on his face.
Accepted
Accepted