OK, heeding the words of the PM, i shall gift unto the boards, a preview! Sorry about the formatting, its better on Word.
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A lot could be said about the man; he looked world travelled but not bedraggled and scarred so its safe to say that some things said would be enough to make him laugh and some would be enough to make him hit you in the spuds.
He was clearly of the piratical persuasion, by his dress if not by his body, face and stature
and the fact that hed kick you in the spuds in a fair fight. To pirates, you fight hard and you fight again.
This pirateish stature began at his legs, which were slightly splayed; to keep balance on a rocking ship even on land they stayed that way.
It carried up to his knees, which had a casual looseness about them, like he was constantly leaning at a bar or about to be about to pounce. These things didnt look unusual, youd hardly noticed unless you took the time to look.
His arms were always at his hips, akimbo from symmetry, one hand near his gun and the other near a dagger, a little way from his sword. And his head, always tilted back slightly, surveying the room for enemies or escape points.
The hair that graced his piratitude filled head was a dark red-brown that curled to his shoulder blades, was never thoroughly washed but nonetheless, was the envy of woman kind. That and his eyes, emerald green. They loved to stare into them, most notably while he robbed them.
His rugged good looks, if he did say so himself, were also a charm in his arsenal. A tough-looking three-thirty oclock shadow, aggressively growing and aggressively shaved moustache, carved from granite but smoothed for aeons face. All in all, even if he said so himself, he was a bit of a ladys man.
Completing his piratitude were his clothes and weapons. What, where, why and who would a pirate be without his weapons? Answers; not a pirate, dead, if he forgot them and himself, but a bit more corpse-like. Thems the breaks in piracy.
A heavy black oak flintlock pistol and rapier were at opposites on his low-hanging belt, perfect to be reached at casual hand height.
The pistol had brass ornamentation on its butt and muzzle, and the words; To Isabella were etched into its barrel. Clearly somebody loved that gun, and now Rozen uses it.
The rapier, however, was his own. Forged in a Spanish pirate-port, its steel was folded so many times it was like a basket of metal laundry and sharper than a dragons fang. The guard of the blade was cut into at the edges to catch blades and rend them from enemy hands. The rapier was truly precious to him, its steel came from the shoddy cutlass hed began his career with.
Next to the sword on his belt was a long flensing dagger with two rings at the hilt, also for catching blades in combat.
In his right boot were two more weapons, a short-barrelled pistol and a dagger, curved to slice throats, with a set of brass knuckles on the handle. It was another of his treasures, yet the only weapon he didnt have in a sheath or holster.
In his left boot lay another dagger, practically a shortsword, but as thin as the flensing blade, it was completely hidden. So hidden, that many a careless watchman had missed it and paid the price as he appeared behind them in the holding cells.
These boots of his came up to his knees, and were held in shape by three belts in the brown leather. They had a slight heel, to make the tall man even more imposing.
The boots had a pair of pale beige or dirty white trousers tucked into them. A pistol holster was belted to his right leg, containing a long flintlock with two barrels.
Rozen clad his chest in a white shirt which he tried to keep clean, but wore a black shirt underneath, just in case it got bloody. A final belt crossed over his chest from right to left, but its purpose was unclear. Possibly it was to give the illusion of more weapons.
He also wore a coat, which was an expensive longcoat of unidentified blood red fabric. It was frayed at the hem, which was stitched gold, like the button holes, tails and collar.
You can tell a lot about a man by what he wears. Is he poor? Rich? Clean? Dirty? Hard working? Lazy? Well what you could tell from David Rozens clothes was; that he was a pirate
