- "No cause is lost if there's but one fool to fight for it."
- —Anthony Rosethourne
Anthony Rosethourne (born c. 5-6 ADP), commonly referred to as Fallenscar, is a freelance tattoo artist and duelist who became closely affiliated with various groups of pirates, thieves and warriors. He is currently the captain of his own crew of pirates called the Bleakfist Crew.
He lived a rough life, spending his childhood in poverty on the docks of Booty Bay. At some point, Anthony was a victim of slavery in Ratchet, receiving permanent whip marks on his back. He was eventually taken in by a local captain, who exposed him to the criminal lifestyle of the Blackwater Raiders. After reaching adolescence, he found himself wanting more. Taking the time to learn what he could from his guardian, he took the ship over upon his retirement and began running his own operations and smuggling runs.
During one of his routine runs, Anthony's ship was attacked by the Bloodsail Buccaneers during a heavy storm. After a long and tiring naval battle between the two ships, the Bloodsail overtook Anthony's ship. He was held captive for several years before finally being let free by a local militia on a man-hunt. He eventually made his way back to the city, and ran with a few different groups before he founded his own pirate crew, the Bleakfist Crew.
With eyes a deep blue reminiscent of the ocean, and jet-black hair, Anthony would strike someone as a no-nonsense kind of character. They would be wrong however. A scar trails across his face, spanning from his left eyebrow, dipping just next to his left eye and ending upon his right cheekbone. His lips are rather thin, usually twisted into a grin, and a cut jaw. His hair trails down to around shoulder length, usually pulled into a ponytail just to keep it all in one place. Another scar, not nearly as vivid as the first, would trail just about his clavicle, from a botched neck-tie. His teeth were cut upon the open waters of Stranglethorn, with many a visit to Ratchet to bring his humility back, the tender flesh of his back still bearing the marks of a whip.
Anthony's bare torso is covered in numerous tattoos. The first to catch someone's eye would be the barren tree that begins at his right hip, the branches trailing across his chest ending at his left pectoral. Sitting on various branches would be several black crows, each with an initial below their talons. The next tattoo is two flintlock pistols crossed on his upper back. A crest of some-sort hangs in the middle, though only frequent visitors of Booty Bay would recognize it. The last tattoos he has are the two short swords, one on each of his forearms, with the points facing his palm.
A pair of daggers would rest across his back, though it'd be safer to call them short swords given their length. Both would be serrated at the base of the blade, likely drenched in some sort of toxin. At the small of his back, a holstered revolver could be found. It'd be a standard six shot, no special markings or appearances. Toxin-wise, he'd always have -at least- two vials of a potent paralytic toxin, and one vial of a pseudo-pepper spray that would burn and sting if it comes in contact with uncovered skin.
Personality and traits
Anthony is a rather sarcastic person, priding himself on annoying anyone and everyone surrounding him. This would be all in good fun, though he'd be remiss in actually telling you that. At heart, he's a loyal fellow, willing to pledge his blade to any friend's cause so long as it didn't break his personal code. Rather lazy at times, it'd be notoriously hard to get him to leave one of his usual haunts lest your reasoning was urgent. Story-telling is also a favorite pass-time of his, willing to engage just about anyone in one of his tales.
In a fight, he'd be considered a "glass cannon" — lot's of potential damage and carnage to inflict upon his enemy, but easily disabled if a few good hits land.
Based on the last few months alone, Anthony would likely give off the vibe of a man pushed to the brink of his own sanity, struggling to retain a reason to continue to function. Bitter, cold, and quick to judge have been his bread and butter as of late. His blade haven't seen use in ages, and his ship rots in the seas of the bay.