Welcome to Gaia! ::

character name: Anita Varnderhook
traits: Good warrior, captain(cuz its my roleplay)
WHAT THE HECK DO THEY LOOK LIKE:Long hair (usually in a braid), tri-corner hat, baggy shirt, ripped trousers, floppy leather boots
anything else(try to keep it real/no fantasy, im sorry): ran away from home at the age of 5: home is a sore topic, so is terboculosis, the plague, fire

~I guess I'll put it in here also~
character name: Julian Scab
traits: Good agility. Lowly defender.
WHAT THE HECK DO THEY LOOK LIKE: He has a thin but muscular body with a short beard and black scruffy hair that usually goes over his eyes. His eyes are evil looking and are piercing green. He has a scar on his cheek giving him the nickname scab.
anything else(try to keep it real/no fantasy, im sorry): He was a young boy who wanted to be a ninja but is now in his twenties living the life of a pirate. He has a nasty attitude towards people he is bored with and a nice one to people who excites him. He practices everyday to defend the boat.
His favourite quote is 'I love the taste of iron. Thats why I eat raw meats.'

Anita waited for the storm to finally give. It had seemed like days since the storm started, although it was only a couple hours. Wave after wave broke over the railing. She climbed down the stairs and entered her cabin. Her belongings that weren't secure were sliding all over the floor. She reached up to the top shelf. Her hand hit a bottle, as she lifted it down she read the label. "Rum." She whispered. She uncorked the bottle and downed its contents and a few gulps. Reaching up again her hand hit a piece of rolled up parchment. In disgust she pulled it down and unrolled it, "WHY'S THE RUM ALWAYS GONE WHEN I NEED IT!" She said as she looked at the scrawled writing. "Those good for nothing scumbags at the East India Trading Company." She read the note and was about to toss it into the fire. Almost as if she had second thoughts about destroying the note, she slipped it into the pocket of her trousers. She sat down at the table that dominated most of her cabin. She poured over the map that dominated most of the table. She plotted course after course, every once and awhile she would get up and get some rum from down in the hold, then she would continue. She worked until she passed out from all the rum she had drunk.

Wakening after her passed outness, Anita rubbed her head. It throbbed with pain, it hurt so much that she had trouble seeing. Her hand groped around the table for another bottle of rum. Her hand gripped the neck of a bottle, and downed it. The throbbing went away slowly, slowly retreating into nothingness.
"I hate hangovers." She whispered to herself and continued to plot a course.