On my planet, we use downed ships as space heaters! It's cold damnit!
Standing at 6 feet, four inches, tall and lean, Fortesque is lanky in his frame and build, apparently not being exceptionally muscled. Somewhat handsome with his current level of grooming. His dark brown hair is cut short, slicked back from his face, broken only at the right side where a scar moves down his temple and behind his ear, leaving a white line where no hair seems able to grow. His face is long in shape, with slightly pronounced cheekbones and chin. His hazel eyes seemingly never stop looking out at his surroundings with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, as if not being the most trusting of men. His lips are often pulled into a content smile, as if it was their normal state a small scar forming a divit in his upper lip. He clad in a charcoal gray dress shirt, buttoned up to the collar, bearing a patch over his heart in the shape of a silhouetted pack of wolves baying at the moon. The buttons of the shirt show the moon in it's phases, from full at the collar to new at the very bottom. The shirt in turn is contained within a midnight blue, double breasted, weskit styled vest with a silver watch chain hanging from the right pocket. Over that he wears a black leather duster, looking bulky in parts from armor plating. The coat looks fairly new, but embroidered on the back there are latin words, reading: Per cruor quod sudo : Victoria! If he is carrying any weapons one surely cannot tell, hidden within his coat perhaps, but by and large he appears wholly unarmed. Around his waist is a simple weapons belt with pouches for equipment and ammunition shells. The belt is holding up a pair of pitch black, thick, slacks made more for form and ease of movement than anything, mostly covering a pair of black leather lace-up boots that are at a mirror shine, not a spec of wear or tear on them, despite obvious age.
Personality and Demeanor
Introspective, but with bursts of outspokenness. Longfellow tends to act as an older brother or fatherly type to those he knows and trusts, which are a scant few due to his long paranoia streak brought about by life as a bounty hunter. Keen reflexed, and ever on the alert for ambush, his many years hunting and leading the guild, honing him into an oiled machine. Universally loved and hated for his capabilities within the guild by those whom have encountered him. Often preeching about the views of how Unification had been beneficiary, but at the same time detrimental to those planets on the rim or that had next to know monetary value to the central government. A modest musician, a line of hobby taken to help him cope with the violence of his profession, he is also a stalwart supporter of law and order, following rules almost to a fault, and dogged about enforcing them upon others who would do other activities to fund themselves. A full country bumpkin, he often makes himself standout rather than blend in with his attempts at etiquette more often seen within Core formal functions, much to his own chagrin as he is not much of a fan of Core Worlds politics and social dynamics, often committing social faux pas when he criticizes them in front of core worlders. Longfellow is also known for being unapologetically blunt, and taking many things at face value, much to the joy of people whom he associates. Rarely retracting a statement if he believes it true.
Speaks German, English, and Chinese fluently. Being of Germanic descent, having an accent that thickens when frustrated, or when he hasn't been speaking English out loud for very long.
Paranoid from many years of hunting and work in law enforcement, Longfellow has a good number of enemies who wouldn't mind seeing him in a shallow grave.
Extremely fast gun hand, renowned for his exceptional reflexes, honed over years of paranoia due to the consequences of his chosen career.
Multiple body scars due to his career choice, stabs, burns, bullet wound scars, and bite marks from Reavers, he also bears several tattoos dedicated to lost bounty hunter comrades. Carries a cutlass, attained after hunting down a pirate king, the sword, according to story, was stabbed through his chest, barely missing his heart and lungs, and is kept for luck.
An enormous personal weapons stock, many of them small arms, throwing knives, and his cutlass, known for his signature use of a Star Shot .50 Caliber Pistol.
Personal dislike of 'city folk' ways, being steadfastly rim-world, and proud of the fact he comes from the near barren ice world of St. Albans
A skilled, and semi-professional musician, skilled in Violin and Guitar playing. Having studied from a young age at his grandparent's insistence while he had been in their care while his parents fought for the Browncoats.
Too many to list. Fortesque holds a record within the guild with almost one hundred collected bounties in his near two decades long battle against criminals and ne'er do wells within the 'verse.
One of the oldest PCs on the MUSH, having been around since the beginning. Love of in depth plot and character twists, always looking for suggestions or scenes to interact with others.