NORRINGTON, James [done]

[JAMES NORRINGTON]

JAMES NORRINGTON




࿂

[/b]: James
SURNAME: Norrington
ALIAS: James
TITLE: for now, bitter drunk

AGE: 32
AFFILIATION: Once a well-liked military man, now many would liken him to the very thing he despises
BRANDED?: -
RANK: -
SHIP: -

࿂ DESCRIBE YESELF![/color]
"Once upon a time I was a striking, clean-cut military man. Eternally well-groomed, my uniform always shone without a speck of dirt and I carried myself as so. I suppose some would say I came off rather intimidating underneath my white wig, and with a body standing at six feet, two inches and a filled-out frame that fit perfectly within the comfort of my military jacket, I can imagine why such things were said. I was the pride of Port Royal, and the man mothers wanted their daughters to be with. Underneath that wig was a head full of fairly short, dark brown hair, and I looked upon my town with hazel eyes (that appeared most often as a odd sort of green), and greeted them all with a broad, gentle smile. I used to be clean-shaven, considered quite handsome by the town, and immaculate.

Now, however, the differences between the man I used to look like and the man I look like now are almost complete opposite. No longer can I boast a clean-shaven, polished look. The hat and wig are long gone, the pristine white of my breeches and undershirt have faded as well. Without access to proper shaving utensils, I have given up on being clean-shaven and now embrace the scruffier version of myself: beard and mustache surrounding my lips that are usually scowling. I am altogether much dirtier and, to put it simply, a mess. You may have also noticed that, despite the fact that I am no longer Commodore James Norrington, the jacket I received upon my promotion to said title is still clinging to my skinnier frame. The bricade is worn and grimy, but I refuse to dispose of any of my previous uniform. I'd rather wear the same thing every day then see it burned to smithereens or stolen by another vagrant. It is the only reminder of the life I once had. That I was once an honorable man..."

࿂ WHAT GIVES YE PLEASURE?
"Being a military man, I am a fan of order. I like things to be precise and taken care of in a certain fashion. The sea is my first home, and there is not a place I feel more at ease then on the bow of my own ship, overlooking the glistening waters of the Caribbean sea. I do also like to be a leader, for it is in a position of power and leadership that I feel most myself and comfortable with. Not that I like to boss others around, but I feel I do a good job of keeping things safe and orderly. And what men can say that they do not enjoy the company of a proper lady? While I may be narrow-minded in my idea of proper lady, I still thoroughly enjoy the warmth a woman brings into a man's life."

࿂ WHAT MAKES YE ANGRY?[/color]
"First and foremost, it is quite obvious to say that I despise pirates with a passion. They are a representation of everything I am against and are absolutely vile creatures. So it goes without saying that Jack Sparrow may just be my least favorite pirate of them all. He is snide, arrogant, and a disgusting human being (though I am using the term "human being" loosely). When things do not go according to plan I cannot help but express my frustration: when you work hard to perfect things it is most disappointing when they do not work out as so. I also despise the life I am now forced to live, alone and bitter with only the company of low-lit taverns and strong rum."

࿂ WHAT DO YE HIDE?[/color]
"I fear that I have become the very thing I despise the most. The last thing on earth that I wanted to be was a pirate, and yet here I am living in the back of a bar in Tortuga, nursing a cold whiskey night after night. It is a disgrace and a shame, and the thought that I am, in fact, a rotten scoundrel haunts me every day. I regret giving Jack Sparrow a day's head start, for surely the filthy pirate would be behind bars by now if I had just sailed after him right away. If I hadn't waited, out of the goodness of my heart (to please Elizabeth, in truth), I would not have been so blinded by my desire to capture him and sail my crew into that hurricane. I am an awful man for doing so; I let them all down and most importantly myself. Many good, brave men were lost that day and while it is natural that I should blame myself, I cannot help but hold Sparrow responsible. And while I regret letting my feelings for Elizabeth outweigh my normally level-headed thinking, I cannot blame her for anything. She has been the object of my affection for too long, and I fear my feelings for her may never change. I know her heart belongs to Turner, but I cannot hope that secretly one day she will realize that she could live a happy, successful life next to me. And so I lead my life now, riddled with guilt and heartache..."

࿂ WHAT SKILLS DO YE POSSES?[/color]
"Despite my current state, I do not think my intelligence has wavered at all within the past few months. In fact, if anything I think I've gotten smarter. One has to learn to be ever-aware and always on their toes when surrounding themselves in the company of scoundrels and barmaids. To this day my weapon of choice remains a sword, and while I've only used it recently as an effort to ward off eager brawlers, I know I am still the fully-capable swordsmen I once was. Managing a sword has always been a highlight of my strengths, and I pride myself on being one of the best to this day. However, as I have come to discover, my tolerance for alcohol is quite low, and this is quite a hindrance in my effort to refrain from acting like a crude dog. Thus my ability to manage my temper has also vanished. Blinded by the bitterness of my recent endeavors, I cannot help but seek vengeance upon the world."

࿂ HOW DO YE ACT?[/color]
"I wish to say that, unlike my wardrobe and physical appearance, my personality did not change. And for the most part it didn't, although several qualities in a man that I frown upon seem to have come out of the woodwork. I am much more a bitter man, for instance, with a great heap of self-loathing and distaste for everything around me. Angry and unfortunately vulnerable, I am quick to react and rather rash in my actions. I wish to say that I was still level-headed and collected, but it is so hard to do so after all I've been through. It seems all manners of order and politeness has escaped me. Yet the gentleman within me still exists, albeit shoved down in the bottom of my shrinking heart. I am still reserved when it comes to my innermost feelings and do not wish to broadcast such things to the world around me. My loyalty to those I care deeply about is still strikingly inflexible (though I suppose it hasn't appeared that way in the past, but I assure you my true links do not change). To those who are worried that the beloved Norrington they once knew, the noble, compassionate, brave, proud, and ambitious man that had protected them in Port Royal is gone, I assure you that his spirit is still lingering within me underneath the stains and smell and intoxication. Although when drunk I can make no promises as to how my personality appears. I have a low tolerance for alcohol, as I've mentioned..."

࿂ WOULD YE BE MISSED?[/color]
"No doubt that my parents would miss me, once word reached to them that their beloved son had fallen victim to the treacherous Caribbean. Although to be honest, I must imagine that I am presumed dead once word that the Dauntless succumbed to the hurricane. No one would know that, after resigning from my position, that I would even survive in a life without order and power. Still though,. As for any others, with no siblings to call my own, I do not think I would be missed. Perhaps Governor Swann, who always seemed to have a fondness for me, and Groves. I would like to think that Miss Swann would mourn for me in my death, but I fear her passion for one Mister Turner has chased away any lingering thoughts she might have had of me."

࿂ YER STORY![/color]
"I was born in Worcestershire, England to Lord and Lady Norrington. Being of noble birth, I was entitled to the best education and upbringing. Unlike some children of my station, I'd like to say I was not a spoiled brat and carried myself with dignity. Wishing to prove myself to a childhood sweetheart I joined the military to secure a position so that I might have a proper dowry for marriage. Following in my father’s footsteps I joined the British Royal Navy as a midshipman. I soon showed my skills in sword fighting and all around military form. I then learned the proper techniques of sailing and strategic planning which eventually caught the attention of my superiors. It was because of this that I quickly moved up through the ranks until becoming a lieutenant. Even though I achieved it quicker than most, it still took years until I returned to England. When I arrived back in Worcestershire to claim my bride, it was to be discovered that another man had come forward with a wealthier dowry and married her. Crushed, I vowed after that, that I would never open my heart to another woman again and placed my duty as lieutenant above everything else. I proved to be a great leader and was well respected by my men. My duty to uphold the law soon came into play with the elimination of many pirates and other law breakers. I brought order where chaos once was, much like most of my life had been before. Shortly after, I received a great honor by being sent by The King to safely escort the new Governor and his daughter to Port Royal as well as become its protector.

While in Port Royal I received more recognition from England and soon made it a more hospitable place. I also watched Elizabeth Swann grow into a lovely woman and found myself developing feelings for her. When I was promoted from Captain to Commodore of The Royal Navy I decided to propose to her but was interrupted when Elizabeth fainted into the water. She was rescued by a pirate named Jack Sparrow, and that is where the downhill of my life began. For Port Royal was attacked by pirates that seemed invincible and they kidnapped Elizabeth. Against my wishes William Turner, a blacksmith apprentice who also fancied Miss Swann, set out to find Elizabeth and sprung free the captive Jack Sparrow. I dispensed the Royal Navy to find Elizabeth and came upon her with Jack Sparrow on a desert island. It was then that Elizabeth agreed to my proposal if I were to find and rescue William Turner who had been taken captive by the pirates who had raided Port Royal. Blinded by my feelings for Elizabeth, and obviously quite ignorant of her true plan, accepted her proposal with pleasure and set out to find the pirates with the help of Jack Sparrow. There was a battle with the pirates and I lost many men but in the end was victorious. I then returned to Port Royal with his soon to be bride, Elizabeth and prepared to uphold the law by hanging Jack Sparrow for piracy. Even after he was granted clemency by Governor Swann, William Turner chose to try and free Jack but was stopped by my men. It was at that time that Elizabeth chose to reveal her true feelings for Will after confessing his own. Wishing for Elizabeth to be happy, putting her desires above my own, I reluctantly allowed her to go back on her promise of marriage to him and allowed Jack Sparrow one day’s start. And after that don't we all know the story? I foolishly led my men into the hurricane after Sparrow and suffered the consequences. Embarrassed by my failure, I resigned from Commodore and wound up on Tortuga. Most would not recognize me now, but I feel as if this is much more a good thing than bad. For anyone to see me now, full of hate and vengeance, would be just terrible..."

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TWENTY ࿂ JACK DAVENPORT ࿂ NINE
AL

RP SAMPLE. <3

He awoke groggily, eyelids fluttering open to expose peculiar surroundings. Brows furrowed in confusion, his head lifting up wearily before he realized he was on the ground. A hand groped the surface, feeling the mud squish between his fingers. His head was inches from the mud now, and he looked down at it curiously, mouth slightly agape. How had he landed up here? Eyes, a rich hue of green, darted to his left, catching the sign of a tavern swinging in the golden light escaping through the windows and door. Each time the door swung open a large amount of noise burst into the air, causing him to wince, a dull ache throbbing at the back of his head. Where was he, and just how had ended up face down in the mud? A groan escaped his lips, the gears clicking furiously in his memory to attempt to whip up some sort of series of images that would provide him with the answer he so desperately needed. And, rather suddenly, as if it had hit him with a dense brick, he remembered:

A dirty Navy jacket (the very same jacket that had been given to him upon being promoted to a Lieutenant; a prize James would never relinquish, for it held far too much personal value as of now) clung to his hunched shoulders as he seated himself in the corner of a tavern. A dim glow from a light above flickered as he carelessly knocked into it, swinging as the man sat down. He scooted himself close to the table, an elbow propping against it to cradle his forehead. An off-white collared shirt covered most of his upper half, save a rip which had been made a few inches below his collarbone, exploiting a bit of tanned skin. His outfit was very much the same as it had been when he had been Commodore. Just….dirtier. Much dirtier.

His physical appearance did no more justice to his story than his outfit did. His hat and wig abandoned (it was much more of a nuisance now), he had grouped his long brown hair back into a ponytail; tying it with a tattered leather ribbon. In his time spent here he had grown some facial hair, a scruffy beard and moustache surrounding his pursed lips. There was no bother in trying to keep up a clean figure; this was Tortuga after all, and as far as he was concerned he fit right in now with the pigs and pirates. A barmaid brought him over a mug of rum, and he glared at it mercilessly. As if blaming the drink for all his problems, for the fact that he was slowly developing into the very thing he hated. Oh but no, James wouldn’t blame the alcohol for his problems, although it was helping him along to earn a nasty reputation in this town.

‘Navy Boy’, that’s what he was known to as the regulars. A dark character with obvious naval background that chose the same table every night, ordered a mug of rum and hardly drank it, and scowled at everyone from the back of the tavern. No, there were more to blame for his unfortunate situation. Himself for one, who had brazenly sailed his men into the hurricane, only to wind up the only survivor he knew of. But there was a reason for his brash actions, oh yes. A damn good reason indeed. Jack Sparrow. The very thought of the man made James clutch the handle of his drink tightly, his lips to form into a scowl, and his eyes to narrow into the glare. The only man who had ever gotten away from James twice. No, the only man who had ever gotten away. Jack Sparrow, with his mocking smile and his appalling slur, his drunken swagger, and his foolish behavior. He was a fool, but a damn clever one. Perhaps that’s why James had made it his life to catch the pirate. Because Jack had been smarter than him. So, ruthlessly, he had chased after Sparrow, and had gotten close to snatching the Captain up and locking him away for good. Until the hurricane. James’ demise.

And now, here the former Commodore sat, destined to waste away in the town he hated the most. Forgotten, unwanted. A mere memory to the citizens of Port Royal, who were no doubt moving on in there life, forgetting the fact that James had helped raised that town into the glory it now boasted. But he had made the decision to resign from his position. He didn’t want to return to Port Royal empty-handed, with his tail between his legs. So now his life consisted of wandering Tortuga, sitting in their taverns, provoking the ‘gents’ of the tavern into nightly brawls. More often than not he woke up lying in the mud, the snorts of the swine ringing near his ears. And yet, really, he could only blame himself. But come the day Sparrow waltzed into Tortuga (he couldn’t ignore this place forever), James would make him pay.

And so on the night of Sparrow’s return James did not hide his presence. Swaggering up to the table where Gibbs had sat recruiting members, a bottle of alcohol in one hand and a pistol in the other. Not exactly the scene he had pictured upon seeking immediate revenge for Sparrow, but it would suffice. Blinded by his rage, and what little alcohol had managed to poisoned his system, he had fought. Challenging them all, everyone who had become a victim of Sparrow’s ploy and then some. He fought viciously, but not intelligently. He had left his strategic ways back at the table. Back on the ship that had been destroyed by the hurricane. Crude and rash, that’s how he egged them on now.

And then it went black.

“James Norrington, what has the world done to you?”

The voice was soft and angelic, a severe interruption from the chaos amongst him. He recognized the voice almost immediately, for the same vocal tones had been replaying over and over in his head ever since he had met her. A savior, come to rescue him from this hellish nightmare that was his reality. The touch upon his shoulder made him cringe slightly, yet at the same time it was soothing; but perhaps it was just because of the hand’s owner. Picking his head up wearily, he turned it stiffly to look up at her. Lord, she was an angel, he thought to himself as he looked her in the eye. As bitter as his life might’ve been at the moment, he couldn’t help but feel a little flutter in his stomach at the sight of her. But it was hard to make eye contact with her, for in his state he felt rather embarrassed. Grungy and vulgar…..a stark contrast to the polished man she had once knew him as. A quiet sigh fell from his mouth, feeling a brush of her warm skin along his face. There was no use in even trying to pretend he was someone else. He was caught, stuck in a corner with no way out. What had the world done to him? A funny question indeed, Miss Swann.

“Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

Cynical and pitiful. But the truth.

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[AMAYA O' HIERLIHY]