Post by Iberia on Apr 2, 2010 12:51:12 GMT -5
Name: Sicounin
Country of Origin: Olivenza, Spain
Gender Female
Age: 34
Height: 165
Weight: 132lbs
Appearance:
-Click-
For the most part you could say that Sicounin doesn’t really stand out: having grown out of her teenage years long ago, she’s a middle-sized woman with tan skin – she is naturally tan, but it has only increased after years under the blazing sun-, curly brown hair reaching down to her lower back and bright green eyes.
She may appear weak, but she’s actually rather strong and with enough stamina to put up a fight if necessary.
Sicounin, like anyone else, is prone to having some fashion sense; however, she is a practical woman and as such, realized long ago that it is impossible for her to be out at sea and get into fights if she is wearing some long, flowing sort of dress. Moreover, she’s taken a liking to simple, old-fashioned (read; very old-fashioned) clothing ever since she was young and as such prefers to use loose tunics tied around the waist, and occasionally pants underneath. She has a signature pair of boots which and would even sleep with them on if she wasn’t so fond of being barefoot – though it’s usually troublesome to do so when she is likely to step on glass or splinters. To top it off, she wears something like a large shawl, covering the most of her arms and torso and though it’s not as practical as she would hope, she can’t seem to get rid of it.
Accessory-wise, Sicounin doesn’t wear more than a pair of earrings and a necklace with a green gem she looted in her earlier years. As far as weaponry goes, this lady enjoys using a falcata, an old Iberian weapon which is actually a relic she wasted most of her money in several years before. It’s a replacement to an older, more dilapidated one she had gotten her hands on, but don’t underestimate her; relic or not, to her it’s a weapon and will be used as such until it breaks.
Crew member of: La Fortuna
Status: First mate, apparently
Pet:
Crest:
Personality:
In an overview, one could say that Sicounin is an unusual woman with two opposing sides to her personality.
For the most part she seems quite calm and relatively optimistic, almost always with a small smile on her face, especially when something piques her interest (it should be noted that she’s quite a curious person and is not below going out of her conventional way to figure something out). She has a special liking for cute things: objects, animals, children; you name it. In part, Sicounin has a very strong, motherly sort of personality; it’s almost heartbreaking for her to realize that, even after so many years she never had a child of her own, and this is perhaps why she grows easily attached to the youngest members of the crews she has been in. Obviously she doesn’t seem to worry about them being embarrassed or teased by others about it, but then, she doesn’t act as a mother hen as much as she simply tries to create a stronger bond with them. At first this could almost be seen as her flirting with younger men and women, but that isn’t the case. When it comes to romance, Sicounin is a dreamer, yes, but in a way she almost fears it; after all, she’s very selective in that sense and she has all the common sense to know that nothing good will come out of romance when she, as part of a crew, is forced to face danger on a constant basis.
All of this isn’t to say that Sicounin can’t be serious – in spite of her general attitude and views, she doesn’t necessarily prance about giggling or dancing. Far from that, actually; she tries to be somewhat calm and collected and to keep an appropriate posture depending on who she is speaking with. Although she absolutely loathes being tamed and taking orders, she has enough common sense to do so if it will benefit her well-being.
Sicounin is practical, or at least tries to be; when she is at work, she does her best and in as least time as possible. If things don’t go her way, she tries not to be too upset as it never seems to get her anywhere – which isn’t to say that she’s immune to irritation, but she tries not to act on each and every violent outburst. She will threaten, yes, but depending on who it is, it may just be an empty threat. Her sharpest weapon is her tongue, but not necessarily the fastest; she would rather take her time digging out a good retort to someone than to make the mistake of sticking a foot in her mouth. After all, she detests that sort of feeling – remorse – because, while it helps in shaping a person, it’s a strong feeling than can get in the way of one too many things.
But then, there’s another, distinct side of Sicounin - something which would put her serious attitude to shame – that is far deeper and more, well, cracked, for lack of a more appropriate word. After all, she has gone through a lot and still feels like she has gone through even more – for years she had difficulty telling reality and her daydreaming apart; sometimes she still stops to wonder -, and everything she’s experienced has left an imprint on her. It is a far more vicious side, cruelty one wouldn’t expect to see in such a seemingly gentle woman’s eyes. She will carry out a threat without second thought, obviously not worried about matters of decency; if she is like this, she is brutal and uncaring, except perhaps if there are children involved. Even in such a state, she is vehemently opposed to hurting a child.
She isn’t quite aware of this side of her personality – or rather, she is, but she isn’t aware of how deep it really is; she doesn’t have odd blackouts and isn’t missing memories. She remembers it, but it simply doesn’t seem as bad as it really is. It’s almost contradicting; but then again, Sicounin has been known to love bloodshed just as much as a good romance.
History:
Sicounin was born to a simple family, with simple values and, to speak truthfully, not many, big expectations. From a very early age, she took a liking to doing simple chores, especially if it meant she could be outside; she was always more of an outdoor person, even going as far as to sleeping outside the house just to watch the stars. It was just one of her many quirks – her most prominent, as she approached her teenage years, was and occasionally still is the habit of daydreaming. She found herself dreaming at all times and it was often difficult to get her attention right at first. Usually she liked to picture herself as someone completely different. Well, perhaps not completely different, but certainly someone older and wiser. She would come up with the strangest stories: venturing out into the woods of a completely different time, fighting wild animals and meeting strange people whose faces she could never remember, even when she put a lot of thought into it. She usually kept this to herself, but it only made her seem more detached. She preferred to be in the woods by herself, sleeping under the shade of trees and exploring every little corner than to be with other people – unless they were younger children. As she grew older, she began to ponder what it would be like to be a mother. It was a recurring thought, but it never worried her; she was growing up, after all, and she couldn’t think of playing with small animals all of her life.
But then her daydreaming became… Different. Sometimes she wouldn’t think of childish, epic adventures but of actual bloodshed – and it managed to scare her, it really did. For example, sometimes she would look back as she walked, scared of finding someone there and for some time she was far more aggressive and edgy than she would care to admit. Then it got to the point where she could barely discern reality from her dreams, figments of her imagination.
Sicounin didn’t go mad; but even well into her twenties, she felt like she was leading two different lives and they were overlapping each other. It was all her fault, she figured, and one day, while on journey to a pier in a distant city, she turned to the sea. She was always very attached to the land, to the woods, to running around and climbing tries and being in contact with the earth; but she figured it would be the great change she needed to keep herself busy. After all, she had never really dreamt of the sea, or at least not of sailing. It would made a big difference and she was willing to adapt if it made things better.
It was at that time that she realized that many years of hard work, even amidst all the confusion, had paid off -- she was far stronger than she would have ever expected, both physically and mentally. Not only was she able to fight, but she was able to ignore and keep herself above nasty comments directed her way.
Even to this day, Sicounin is a dreamer; but she can tell the difference between who she is and who she still imagines to be at times. She never found a suitable answer to this and she oftentimes wonders if she will. But, for the meantime, she has grown used to this new life and that alone makes her happy.
If Sicounin can avoid killing someone (which, unfortunately, she knows isn’t that easy a task), then she will; it isn’t a matter of it scaring her, or her morals being too high, no – she enjoys bloodshed just as much as she enjoys a good romance, and that is precisely the issue. She would rather only kill to put someone out of their misery than to push it too far and go on a spree.
Allegiance: Whichever that fool ofa Roman an Italian's is, usually.
How They Died:
She was unstable. Celtici, Cantabri, Edetani, Turdetani, Ilercavones, Gallaeci, Astures, Bastuli, Lusitani – they were peoples in their own right, so she always had to stop and ask, why was she here in the first place? They were not united and certainly not one political unit she could have been born from – but yet, here she was. She had been here for longer than she could remember, really, ever since there were not even half the people in her home as there were now. Here she had been, Gadir, when the Phoenicians had Arrived. Emporion, when the Greek had set foot in her lands. And then, Carthago Nova.
So many names when they could just call her Iberia, like they all later would – and she came to realize that perhaps, perhaps she was just a peninsula; perhaps she was here because there were mountains separating her from far off lands, and then sea all around.
So why had they insisted on conquering her (their? So many peoples, so many names…) lands. Merchant colonies, three little words that were the most fearful request, one she would always, always refuse – join my empire. But she always did, did she not? She was a part of the Carthaginian Empire and perhaps it was not so bad – but they would not leave her alone and by the start of the Punic Wars, she already had lovely children, so young but not quite young enough that they would not understand why Carthago was visiting their lands and how different, how serious he must seem.
That was when Iberia set her foot down and said no again. There was no obliviousness to the fact that she knew her home was sought by other nations – if only because it was a westernmost land and who knew what awaited behind that wide blue sea of her western coasts? – But the fact remained that she would not be involved in a conflict she wanted nothing to do with – especially not with lords of the Mediterranean like Rome and Carthage.
( What was past, was past – and by this point she claimed to want to stay away from them at all times. )
But no. The first war wasn’t enough and years later, they were at it again – and Iberia gradually felt weaker, far more tired, but she had children to tend to and she couldn’t, wouldn’t show weakness, make them feel unsafe.
But the moment Scipio’s expeditions to her (their) lands began, she knew it was over.
All throughout the second Punic war, Iberia suffered a great deal of visits – and found that her territory was being fought for as well and they were tearing her apart. She would wake up in tears from nightmares, but sometimes she couldn’t even move properly from fresh wounds she had not fought to obtain. Her whole body was tired and one day, one day when the war was almost over, one day Iberia could not move.
Wounded and in pain, as if she herself had been at war – certainly not beautiful like she had once been when other nations had visited her home, but this was not a beautiful moment anyway, so it did not matter. It was despairing – because her children would see her; she wasn’t ready to abandon them like this, not when she was so puzzled as to what they represented there – there were so many names, so many words, but not enough time to figure anything out.
And then at one point, she could not speak.
And Iberia was old, no matter how young she might appear. And when she looked back at all the bloodsport, all the petty fights in her youth, her friends, her allies, her lovers, her children – she could acknowledge that it was her time to fall, like other nations before her.
But her children, to those she could not apologize enough, because it was fate - but fate proved to be cruel. Perhaps this was what would make them grow into fine, strong men (fighters like her, she would hope; stubborn if they had to, but she could only hope they would remember her). For now, they were safe – and no matter how much she could claim to hate Rome, or Carthago, or anyone else, she knew they would be safe with whoever claimed these lands first.
Her final breath was a soft ‘I love you’ to the wind, accompanied by tears she had been holding back all along.
When the War against Hannibal ended, she was already gone.
Did you read the rules? Who is a Beastie?:Barbossa Jack Sparrow, mm.
Country of Origin: Olivenza, Spain
Gender Female
Age: 34
Height: 165
Weight: 132lbs
Appearance:
-Click-
For the most part you could say that Sicounin doesn’t really stand out: having grown out of her teenage years long ago, she’s a middle-sized woman with tan skin – she is naturally tan, but it has only increased after years under the blazing sun-, curly brown hair reaching down to her lower back and bright green eyes.
She may appear weak, but she’s actually rather strong and with enough stamina to put up a fight if necessary.
Sicounin, like anyone else, is prone to having some fashion sense; however, she is a practical woman and as such, realized long ago that it is impossible for her to be out at sea and get into fights if she is wearing some long, flowing sort of dress. Moreover, she’s taken a liking to simple, old-fashioned (read; very old-fashioned) clothing ever since she was young and as such prefers to use loose tunics tied around the waist, and occasionally pants underneath. She has a signature pair of boots which and would even sleep with them on if she wasn’t so fond of being barefoot – though it’s usually troublesome to do so when she is likely to step on glass or splinters. To top it off, she wears something like a large shawl, covering the most of her arms and torso and though it’s not as practical as she would hope, she can’t seem to get rid of it.
Accessory-wise, Sicounin doesn’t wear more than a pair of earrings and a necklace with a green gem she looted in her earlier years. As far as weaponry goes, this lady enjoys using a falcata, an old Iberian weapon which is actually a relic she wasted most of her money in several years before. It’s a replacement to an older, more dilapidated one she had gotten her hands on, but don’t underestimate her; relic or not, to her it’s a weapon and will be used as such until it breaks.
Crew member of: La Fortuna
Status: First mate, apparently
Crest:
Personality:
In an overview, one could say that Sicounin is an unusual woman with two opposing sides to her personality.
For the most part she seems quite calm and relatively optimistic, almost always with a small smile on her face, especially when something piques her interest (it should be noted that she’s quite a curious person and is not below going out of her conventional way to figure something out). She has a special liking for cute things: objects, animals, children; you name it. In part, Sicounin has a very strong, motherly sort of personality; it’s almost heartbreaking for her to realize that, even after so many years she never had a child of her own, and this is perhaps why she grows easily attached to the youngest members of the crews she has been in. Obviously she doesn’t seem to worry about them being embarrassed or teased by others about it, but then, she doesn’t act as a mother hen as much as she simply tries to create a stronger bond with them. At first this could almost be seen as her flirting with younger men and women, but that isn’t the case. When it comes to romance, Sicounin is a dreamer, yes, but in a way she almost fears it; after all, she’s very selective in that sense and she has all the common sense to know that nothing good will come out of romance when she, as part of a crew, is forced to face danger on a constant basis.
All of this isn’t to say that Sicounin can’t be serious – in spite of her general attitude and views, she doesn’t necessarily prance about giggling or dancing. Far from that, actually; she tries to be somewhat calm and collected and to keep an appropriate posture depending on who she is speaking with. Although she absolutely loathes being tamed and taking orders, she has enough common sense to do so if it will benefit her well-being.
Sicounin is practical, or at least tries to be; when she is at work, she does her best and in as least time as possible. If things don’t go her way, she tries not to be too upset as it never seems to get her anywhere – which isn’t to say that she’s immune to irritation, but she tries not to act on each and every violent outburst. She will threaten, yes, but depending on who it is, it may just be an empty threat. Her sharpest weapon is her tongue, but not necessarily the fastest; she would rather take her time digging out a good retort to someone than to make the mistake of sticking a foot in her mouth. After all, she detests that sort of feeling – remorse – because, while it helps in shaping a person, it’s a strong feeling than can get in the way of one too many things.
But then, there’s another, distinct side of Sicounin - something which would put her serious attitude to shame – that is far deeper and more, well, cracked, for lack of a more appropriate word. After all, she has gone through a lot and still feels like she has gone through even more – for years she had difficulty telling reality and her daydreaming apart; sometimes she still stops to wonder -, and everything she’s experienced has left an imprint on her. It is a far more vicious side, cruelty one wouldn’t expect to see in such a seemingly gentle woman’s eyes. She will carry out a threat without second thought, obviously not worried about matters of decency; if she is like this, she is brutal and uncaring, except perhaps if there are children involved. Even in such a state, she is vehemently opposed to hurting a child.
She isn’t quite aware of this side of her personality – or rather, she is, but she isn’t aware of how deep it really is; she doesn’t have odd blackouts and isn’t missing memories. She remembers it, but it simply doesn’t seem as bad as it really is. It’s almost contradicting; but then again, Sicounin has been known to love bloodshed just as much as a good romance.
History:
Sicounin was born to a simple family, with simple values and, to speak truthfully, not many, big expectations. From a very early age, she took a liking to doing simple chores, especially if it meant she could be outside; she was always more of an outdoor person, even going as far as to sleeping outside the house just to watch the stars. It was just one of her many quirks – her most prominent, as she approached her teenage years, was and occasionally still is the habit of daydreaming. She found herself dreaming at all times and it was often difficult to get her attention right at first. Usually she liked to picture herself as someone completely different. Well, perhaps not completely different, but certainly someone older and wiser. She would come up with the strangest stories: venturing out into the woods of a completely different time, fighting wild animals and meeting strange people whose faces she could never remember, even when she put a lot of thought into it. She usually kept this to herself, but it only made her seem more detached. She preferred to be in the woods by herself, sleeping under the shade of trees and exploring every little corner than to be with other people – unless they were younger children. As she grew older, she began to ponder what it would be like to be a mother. It was a recurring thought, but it never worried her; she was growing up, after all, and she couldn’t think of playing with small animals all of her life.
But then her daydreaming became… Different. Sometimes she wouldn’t think of childish, epic adventures but of actual bloodshed – and it managed to scare her, it really did. For example, sometimes she would look back as she walked, scared of finding someone there and for some time she was far more aggressive and edgy than she would care to admit. Then it got to the point where she could barely discern reality from her dreams, figments of her imagination.
Sicounin didn’t go mad; but even well into her twenties, she felt like she was leading two different lives and they were overlapping each other. It was all her fault, she figured, and one day, while on journey to a pier in a distant city, she turned to the sea. She was always very attached to the land, to the woods, to running around and climbing tries and being in contact with the earth; but she figured it would be the great change she needed to keep herself busy. After all, she had never really dreamt of the sea, or at least not of sailing. It would made a big difference and she was willing to adapt if it made things better.
It was at that time that she realized that many years of hard work, even amidst all the confusion, had paid off -- she was far stronger than she would have ever expected, both physically and mentally. Not only was she able to fight, but she was able to ignore and keep herself above nasty comments directed her way.
Even to this day, Sicounin is a dreamer; but she can tell the difference between who she is and who she still imagines to be at times. She never found a suitable answer to this and she oftentimes wonders if she will. But, for the meantime, she has grown used to this new life and that alone makes her happy.
If Sicounin can avoid killing someone (which, unfortunately, she knows isn’t that easy a task), then she will; it isn’t a matter of it scaring her, or her morals being too high, no – she enjoys bloodshed just as much as she enjoys a good romance, and that is precisely the issue. She would rather only kill to put someone out of their misery than to push it too far and go on a spree.
Allegiance: Whichever that fool of
How They Died:
She was unstable. Celtici, Cantabri, Edetani, Turdetani, Ilercavones, Gallaeci, Astures, Bastuli, Lusitani – they were peoples in their own right, so she always had to stop and ask, why was she here in the first place? They were not united and certainly not one political unit she could have been born from – but yet, here she was. She had been here for longer than she could remember, really, ever since there were not even half the people in her home as there were now. Here she had been, Gadir, when the Phoenicians had Arrived. Emporion, when the Greek had set foot in her lands. And then, Carthago Nova.
So many names when they could just call her Iberia, like they all later would – and she came to realize that perhaps, perhaps she was just a peninsula; perhaps she was here because there were mountains separating her from far off lands, and then sea all around.
So why had they insisted on conquering her (their? So many peoples, so many names…) lands. Merchant colonies, three little words that were the most fearful request, one she would always, always refuse – join my empire. But she always did, did she not? She was a part of the Carthaginian Empire and perhaps it was not so bad – but they would not leave her alone and by the start of the Punic Wars, she already had lovely children, so young but not quite young enough that they would not understand why Carthago was visiting their lands and how different, how serious he must seem.
That was when Iberia set her foot down and said no again. There was no obliviousness to the fact that she knew her home was sought by other nations – if only because it was a westernmost land and who knew what awaited behind that wide blue sea of her western coasts? – But the fact remained that she would not be involved in a conflict she wanted nothing to do with – especially not with lords of the Mediterranean like Rome and Carthage.
( What was past, was past – and by this point she claimed to want to stay away from them at all times. )
But no. The first war wasn’t enough and years later, they were at it again – and Iberia gradually felt weaker, far more tired, but she had children to tend to and she couldn’t, wouldn’t show weakness, make them feel unsafe.
But the moment Scipio’s expeditions to her (their) lands began, she knew it was over.
All throughout the second Punic war, Iberia suffered a great deal of visits – and found that her territory was being fought for as well and they were tearing her apart. She would wake up in tears from nightmares, but sometimes she couldn’t even move properly from fresh wounds she had not fought to obtain. Her whole body was tired and one day, one day when the war was almost over, one day Iberia could not move.
Wounded and in pain, as if she herself had been at war – certainly not beautiful like she had once been when other nations had visited her home, but this was not a beautiful moment anyway, so it did not matter. It was despairing – because her children would see her; she wasn’t ready to abandon them like this, not when she was so puzzled as to what they represented there – there were so many names, so many words, but not enough time to figure anything out.
And then at one point, she could not speak.
And Iberia was old, no matter how young she might appear. And when she looked back at all the bloodsport, all the petty fights in her youth, her friends, her allies, her lovers, her children – she could acknowledge that it was her time to fall, like other nations before her.
But her children, to those she could not apologize enough, because it was fate - but fate proved to be cruel. Perhaps this was what would make them grow into fine, strong men (fighters like her, she would hope; stubborn if they had to, but she could only hope they would remember her). For now, they were safe – and no matter how much she could claim to hate Rome, or Carthago, or anyone else, she knew they would be safe with whoever claimed these lands first.
Her final breath was a soft ‘I love you’ to the wind, accompanied by tears she had been holding back all along.
When the War against Hannibal ended, she was already gone.
Did you read the rules? Who is a Beastie?:
