Name: Bartholomew Bartlett
Age: 20
Bounty: Non-applicable
Species: Olive Baboon
Occupation: Hooligan-for-Hire; Captain.
Allegiance: Pirate- Old World Hoodlums
Home Village/Ocean: East Blue (Pioneer Wilds)
Appearance: Miniature cream-colored shorts cover Bartholomew's hind-quarters down to the middle of his back legs; the shorts bear a pattern of narrow burnt-orange colored lines streaming down the vertical in pairs of two as well as a gaping puncture wound to accommodate Bartlett's sleek, grey tail. The forelegs housed by these pants are stocky with smooth grey-green fur; as with the rest of his coat, several thin streaks of dry browns (ranging from a light coffee color to a yellower hue) contribute to the olive tone of his limbs. His feet are thick, long pads with four "toe" claws and one toe on the inside. A thick mat of fur covers the top of his feet, concealing his dry, granite-tinted skin. A loose fitting navy blue polo covers his torso, hanging down low when he walks on all fours. His head pokes out of the half-buttoned collar, and his arms extend out of the sleeves. These front arms are slender like spindles. His hands are like a human's, but with ugly, sharpened nails. His fur is ruffled at his nape by the shirt collar- this causes a depression at the base of his mane. The color fades from his fur as it approaches the edges of his solemn, leathery face. His brow extends out over his eyes, creating half-circles of darkness at the upper rim of his eye-sockets. His amber-colored eyes are shaped as beads and have small, judgmental pupils resting at the centers. The skin around his eyelids are copper-tone, while his face is colored grey. He has a jutting, houndlike snout with two, thick pupils and whiskers extending on the sides. His ears poke out of the large fur flaps of his big cheeks. His teeth are thick and blunt like those of an herbivore excluding the sharp exterior fangs of a predator which are shone when he grins. Bartholomew bears the gruff, sophisticated scent of smoking tobacco. Bartholomew Bartlett is thirty inches tall from the shoulders to the ground, with a length of forty inches from hind to skull. His tail reaches eighteen inches.
History: Near Logue Town, on another one of the ink spots of the East Blue's map known as the Polestar Islands, rests a savage jungle land known only as the "Pioneer Wilds"; this floating green mass of dirt and log was obscure and uninhabited. Unwanted by man and unknown except for as a beast's haven, nobody bothered with it for many long years. Even pirates found "Pioneer Wilds" to be too much of a hassle- then one man came. He was a hunter by and of nature, a dissatisfied conquistador searching for the next city of gold. He came to the island smiling cheek to cheek with a fiery ambition and he took a saw to a tree. The island was timber to him. The gorillas, the bears, the boar, the baboons, and even the tigers looked the other direction as he hitched together his shack, ignorant of his true intention. The killer's clubhouse was shoddily-built with a roof hatching made form dry leaves. The hunter looked at the island with the smug eyes, but he had no pride in his house. For two years he toiled without a single kill to make his own home. Bartholomew was born the day this hunter arrived, and knew not that he was. The first two years of Bartholomew's life were peaceful.
When the Hunter had finally completed his manor, he had cut a chunk out of the jungle and scarred the land by dragging heavy timbers. The island itself had a trail scratched from the heart of its forestry to his home. The beasts knew of his presence, and knew they could no longer allow him to pursue his exploits. The bats clung to their caves, safe in the darkness. The tigers too were disinterested, and the sentiment of inaction spread through to all the beasts. Each of them, of their own accord, had agreed to themselves to keep a watchful eye and guard their territory. The boar were killed first by sharp stick. The hunter took their thick hides and cooked them and dressed their skulls upon his mantle. Suddenly, the beasts knew they needed to act.
Bears were not high in number; there were less than ten of them. Their numbers dwindled as the hunter trapped one after another. There were four bears left when they called for help. The beast tribes came together to discuss what was to be done. The tigers did not show- they needed no help to kill a man- but the baboons came and so did the silverback gorilla with his followers. The beasts warred with each others principles; the wild creatures lacked the civility to make an agreement. The silverback stormed off angry at the bears and the hunter. He promised they would die after he had found and crushed this other man. The last four bears of the island had lost their dignity, and were predators no longer. Following that day they hid in the caves and starved. The baboons looked around and saw the island divided; it was savage before but now it had been driven sick, plagued with violence and hunger. The troop agreed to stay together in the face of this adversity.
The hunter was a big man, composed of muscles, scars, and teeth. He stood as tall as a warrior with his broad chest, but the silverback's chest was broader. It's stare was fire, hungry to burn down the house that cut its trees and ate its leaves. The mighty chieftain of the island trampled the dirt into fine powder, mashing its bruised knuckles into the bruised earth. It wanted to kill a man- in its mind the hunter was only prey. One strong punch and the man would crumple like paper, and be tossed about in the wind. The wind, though, was sour with malice. It was true the gorilla stood larger and stronger than the hunter, but he was quicker. The Proud Silverback collapsed when the hunter's knife pierced its body. It stood up again. The hunter had a second knife. It had not seen him before he placed the second knife into the back of its shoulder. Then the gorilla turned its head and humbled itself for its life. The hunter did not relent. He withdrew his knives and deposited them again, repeating the pattern like a miner breaking a stubborn rock.
The hunter saw no need to kill the baboons, as they were lesser prey but they saw need to show themselves as greater than him. The Troop outnumbered him a hundred to one, and clung to their rocks. Those thick rocks hung in their hands for days as they marched about like sentries waiting for an intruder. The hunter went out with his rifle to scour for food, but he was disappointed. He was also pelted by rocks (which are not nutritious). The troop had taken the initiative, and their target was on the run. This battle changed as he fired off his musket; a loud, all-frightening, awesome explosion erupted from the barrel. The steel ball whizzed out and struck a tree trunk, wood splintered and shattered with a big cracking noise. The troop scattered, and baboons ran in all directions; up trees, to the beach, and deeper to the heart of the jungle. One baby baboon was left behind; Bartholomew Bartlett was too young to know where to gather back to.
The hunter was a greedy man with no desire for busywork. He built his mansion with amazing passion only because it was a great lodge for a great hunter. His vision had driven him to construct his manor, and it drove him to take the young baboon in. He wanted a servant, and would train it to be so. Bartholomew was not a monkey butler but who would try to correct him if he said so? Bartlett worked as a servant for ten years, and as he grew older he started taking more responsibilities- eventually the baboon built a business for his master, who had to finance his exploits some how. Pioneer Wilds saw regular ship traffic when Bartholomew began a rum-trade. The island was close enough to Logue Town that there was constant demand for the Baboon's homebrew. This business began the sixth year of his servitude- the next year the hunter took Bartholomew on hunts as an assistant.
Year eight of the dignified slave era, Bartholomew assisted the hunter in a excursion to vanquish a tiger. As result of killing one tigress, a cub was left on its own. Bartholomew saw someone like him and took the abandoned little feline in with him.
Peeves Moran became Bartlett's greatest friend and ally. The tiger killed the hunter and Bartholomew took the mansion as his home. Things happened in between then and now, but they bored Bartholomew. Eventually he decided having an empire built off cheap-made rum and excesses of money was not nearly as exciting as stealing tons of shit and began a life as a gentleman thief.
Personality: Bartholomew is a peculiar soul- he has been liberated from the desire to amass, and yet he habitually thieves any possession that strikes his intrigue. He prefers to maintain an air of affability and is socially refined; he tends to never directly insult anyone. He is very talented at crafting backhanded remarks and enjoys employing them (this is a compromise he has made- he resents repressing his thoughts or expressions to satisfy others but would never be so crass as to throw rude monikers about). He believes thoroughly in his independence and believes he owes no one any answers. Instead of providing the rational explanation for his actions (if he has one) he casually responds with nonsense. To a clueless observer, his very presence and attitude are non sequiturs. He does embrace the absurd, and rarely does he act for reasons outside of whim, but this does not make his mind an impenetrably obscure. He seems to be a charming rogue; he commits crimes simply for their execution and rarely relies on direct force. However, he is capable of savage malevolence. Only personal vendettas can move him to acts of specific motivation. He is rarely found doing something that does not amuse him, and only surrounds himself with those who he finds intriguing. He finds the high-end culture uninteresting, even though he enjoys being the master of his own empire and enterprise. He cares not for profitability, and while his heists rarely bring capital to his pocket he consistently pays his employees (excluding Peeves). He inherently keeps most people at a distance and prefers the company of animals (sometimes simple folk will do in their stead). Bartholomew does not see any of his crew as "friends" or "brothers-in-arms"; they are strictly associates (excluding Peeves, again). His ideology has been shaped by past experiences, especially regarding his distrust of others and his social darwinist perspective (he takes what he wants to take on the grounds that he can take it, and if others want to keep their possessions they must defend them). With his task-to-task mentality and lack of a serious aspiration, Bartlett comes off as frivolous clown to some; however, his lack of long-term motivation can be attributed to his satisfaction with life. He enjoys intellectually dominating or humiliating his enemies instead of attacking them and is completely willing to risk danger for a clever scheme.
Ship: the Funky Footpad (a small sized cutter that could only fit a maximum of 10 men)
Ship Flag: three red and white polka-dot ties are tied to the mast (no actual flag)
Devil Fruit: NA
type: NA
effect: NA
Special Abilities: Can speak, climb, scamper, utilize tools, construct schemes and plans, and understand his pet tiger Peeves (the how is a mystery)
Learned Techniques (Keep it 1-25): Bartlett prefers not to engage in martial endeavors
Weapons/Items: a grappling hook, a thirty-foot long coil of rope,
Peeves Moran, Tiger Assistant, a crowbar, a crook, a tack hammer, a golf bag (to house the prior three items) and an incredible surplus of currency
Goals: Express his sovereignty through pointless mischief
Sun Jan 27, 2013 3:24 am