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@gang-plank
Greetings cpt i assume you are eating oranges again i have a question you know keg is made ou of black powder or gun powder? Or even c-4?(as in case you are a special forces) and btw tell more about you pistol and your weaponary.
I haven’t been on this in a year and you’re here asking me QUESTIONS.
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"Gods be damned, all o’ ye are ugly as fok."
She narrows her eyes at the loud old bastard beside her at the bar.
“Speak for yourself, ya drunk. Have you even looked in the mirror lately?” She took a large gulp of her beer before offhandedly asking, “How many have you had anyway?”
A dumbfounded look strikes Gangplank's face as he looks around. Indeed, they were in a bar, but how and when? And why is she here in Bilgewater? Nothing makes sense anymore as Gangplank tried to recall the moments before this, but his mind comes up blank. He shrugs and signals the bartender for a drink, figuring he might as well go with the flow. "I ain't had none yet, apparently."
He turns to look at Vi, whose eyes are squinted back at him in a drunken demeanor. "Why the hell are y here?"
"Gods be damned, all o' ye are ugly as fok."
"Mornin'."
ask-sivir replied to your post “((so how the fuck is me and 97bottlesofrum gonna reach out to the rest...”
go harass the first mate. he needs some struggle in his life.
"Nay, it ain't like that anymore."
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Gangplank Headcanons
A friend suggested I made this so here goes I guess
His real name is Vincent, after his father. He doesn't know his last name as his father never told him to hinder any effort to find his mother, who fled the family after Vincent proved to be abusive
Avid smoker among all the drinking
Even though his career as a pirate has been a wildly successful one, he abandoned any notion of piracy and now focuses on the politics surrounding Blue Flame Island and the Institute of War.
His crew followed Gangplank's decision on ending their pirate career, and have now assembled a sort of military for Bilgewater. After suffering heavy casualties against the Black Mist, this military is now trying to rebuild their ranks and are actively recruiting. (You may use this as a possible RP)
He enjoys crumpets
((No crossovers. League OCs are fine.))
"WHO THE HELL MOVED ME FATHER'S CORPSE?"
((so how the fuck is me and 97bottlesofrum gonna reach out to the rest of you in a friendly manner))
Grave Encounters
Her fingertips trickled across the gravestone of her mother, pressing against every crevice the letters displayed on her mother’s stone. It was calming, cleansing of the dirt. It was ‘hello’ from the window of life and ‘I miss you’ from the heart.
It was the only thing left that Sarah could physically touch that was her mother.
All around the tombstone rested many petals and trinkets arranged into the form of an altar of remembrance. Had crime not soared recently in Bilgewater, she would have strewn childhood objects into the grass that surrounded it, but to hell with the thought that scum would wander in and take her well beloved belongings from her mother’s grave. There was no chance she’d ever risk it.
Withdrawing her touch and rising from her kneeling position, a heartfelt sigh slipped by and blue hues fixated upon her mother’s name. It was time to bid farewell and to leave. With hesitation and heavy eyes, her body faced right to begin the long walk home.. only to be met with a visual assault of the most abhorrent thing in Runeterra, leg up and trousers unzipped.
It was the fuel of every nightmare she’s ever had.
Slack-jawed and angered, also disgusted, Sarah could feel the steam rising in her veins— until she saw exactly whose grave it was. The hue of vibrant red on her cheeks quickly bubbled down to a light pink and instead of unleashing fury, a cackle rang out from where she stood. Yes, a bonafide laugh. Even Sarah, herself, didn’t quite understand.
"You poor bastard, mate! Can’t imagine how pathetic your life must be, the lack of class is repulsing. At least your target’s well deserved, and I’m not surprised in the slightest that the child of a grog-snarfing, cargo thieving, scurvy infested scoundrel is doing obscene things to his father’s grave in the light of day. It’s true what they say, isn’t it? Like father, like son!”
Gangplank flinches at the laughter piercing his ears, like the cackle of an old harpy. He turns his head slightly to look at Sarah from the corner of his eye, then exhales through his nose sharply. He spits at the dirt of the grave before him then turns around to face her.
Fortune was fair, indeed. The way her hair accentuated the contours of her face, color matched by her scarlet lipstick. Her eyes resembled those of a cat, accented by smoky blue eyeshadow showing off a fierce stare that could stab through the hearts of men. The shadows from the trees covered them both, a faint sound of singing birds and people conversing could be heard. He takes note of her outfit, which was not the usual, revealing garb she has on, figuring she was definitely here to pay respects to her mother. He envied her a bit on that part, not knowing who his own mother was.
He sucked his teeth and maintained a look of indifference. "M'lady, class be absent everywhere in this island. Includin' the beds of the dead." He begins slowly walking towards her and shrugs his shoulders. "'Sides, yer one to talk. Not even a proper greetin'? It be rude to intrude on a man answerin' nature's call, indeed." He folds his hands behind his back as he squints his eyes and shows a small smile. "Me father treated me like absolute dirt, aye. Was it out o' love? I'd find it hard to believe so. Wouldn't expect ye to understand, nay..." He licks his lips and fades away his smile. "Ye had the privilege of not expectin' any physical contact from yer parent to be one that would end in a bruise." He furrowed his brows. "I be nothin' like this sack o' shite, and be quite offended ye would even make the comparison."
Grave Encounters
He makes this trip to the cemetery often. It wasn't too far where he docked his ship, but the walk there was lengthy enough for him to absorb his surroundings, the sound of gentle water splashing against the wooden walkways connected to various houses and shops built by inhabitants of Bilgewater long ago. Giant arches of stone with other buildings built on top of them towered over the ports, with water constantly flowing down from storm drains into the ports. Gangplank enjoys the sight of his people going about their day, whether it be hauling a big catch from a fishing expedition into their shop or the children splashing into the water and pretending to be fierce Blue Flame leviathans.
The wooden walkway connects to a stone path which leads into the cemetery behind the ports. The hanging moss on the walls of the tunnels sway with the breeze, drops of water falling off their ends. Several people walk to and back from a local park in the area, some minutes away from the cemetery.
He eventually reaches the entrance, pushing the rusty, broken gate with an audible creak. The undertaker pokes his head up from a fresh grave and sees Gangplank, cracking a smirk. "Come to pay respects again, sir?" he says, his voice noticeably hoarse from the copious amounts of tobacco he smokes. Gangplank simply nods, and walks to the undertaker to pass him a few gold coins and a tied-up bundle of tobacco. The undertaker's smirk grew into a smile as he cleared his throat and spit out a glob of saliva and something green.
Gangplank trudges to the far right corner of the cemetery, where the tombstones are much more withered as a sign of neglect of the undertaker. He walks up to an ornate grave, complete with the statue of a tall figure with one hand on his hip, one on his cutlass, and a foot placed upon a barrel. The text is a bit worn, the tombstone reading "H..re li...s Vinc..t the Sh..dow,..".
Gangplank proceeds to unzip his trousers and urinate on the text, hoping to wipe out the entire text. The tombstone begins to trickle down yellow, the liquid seeping into the dirt. The stream stops, and Gangplank zips back up and spits directly on the face of the statue and stares at the entire grave, stepping back from the urine so as to not soak his boots.
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Thanks for the follow, god bless, and welcome to the big dick club. Much love to ya.)
Gangplank tosses the letter away in disgust and ponders why he ever decided to come back to this cesspool.
ツ: A guilty desire of theirs.
"I dress in drag an’ put on eyeliner when ain’t no one ‘round to see."
"Hardly surprising."
"Shouldn't be, seein' as it be clothin' I stole from ye."
☻: Person who could without a doubt make them happy.
"Whores an' bartenders. Ain't no need fer anyone else."
♥: How they show affection.
"What?"
ツ: A guilty desire of theirs.
"I dress in drag an' put on eyeliner when ain't no one 'round to see."
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✖: A trait they despise in people.
"Red hair, bounty hunter, wears heels, smells like cheap perfume, has a weird lookin' hat, flirts in quite possibly the most inappropriate o' times."
Gangplank shrugs.
Headcanons!
☠: Their worst habit.
☮: How they keep calm.
♥: How they show affection.
♕: Their most prized possessions.
★: Their favorite celebrity.
☼: Favorite season.
☁: How they feel about cold weather.
☻: Person who could without a doubt make them happy.
☹: A thought that makes them sad.
♫: Favorite music genres.
✍: A langauge they can speak.
✖: A trait they despise in people.
△: Views on lgtbq issues
ツ: A guilty desire of theirs.
☃: Would they build a snowman
