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Author Topic: Anirdulf Svanskjun/Avennorian/Wanderer  (Read 5937 times)
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Anirdulf Svanskjun
Helvíl Helvíliás
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Posts: 122


Human, Avennorian


« on: January 25, 2010, 08:56:03 PM »

Name: Anirdulf Svanskjun

Gender: Male

Age: 14 winters

Race: Human

Tribe:  Avennorian

Occupation: Wanderer/Part-time scribe

Title: Helvíl Helvíliás ("Wanderer of Wanderers")

Overview: After the brutal destruction of his home and killing of his father when he was aged only ten on the command of Fjorkolm Kjarskamm, a Veior of his area, in a brutal night which he named Cár'tuulénís'cór,"Night of Death", Anirdulf has taken to wandering, bitter  that wealth let his father's killers act with impunity. He took the title Helvíl Helvíliás to signify that he has renounced all trapping of wealth and all cities. His ultimate goal is revenge on the man whose command condemned his father.

Height: One ped, one fore and eight nailsbreadths.

Weight: One pygge, two hebs

Hair: Medium length Injohue hair covers Anirdulf's head. He sports no beard, but is slightly ragged around the chin with the first hairs of his puberty.

Eyes: Anirdulf has strange eyes - the left eye is Xazure blue, but his right is Sognastheen green, the both run through with streaks of Baveras' Eye.

Physical: Anirdulf is clearly Avennorian, with typical pale hair. His strange eyes sometimes seem as deep as the bottomless ocean of which they are so strikingly reminiscent, and he is shorter than most men, although nearly full-grown. However, since his family's fall from wealth and influence there has been a fair amount of interbreeding with the more Darian and Tharian lower classes, which has slightly corrupted his Glandorian looks to the extent that he has lost the distinctive ear-slits, although the other characteristics are still strong in his face, marred only by a scar that vertically divides his left eyebrow, a relic of his Cár'tuulénís'cór, his "Night of Death". He is fairly muscular, although you would describe him as wiry rather than bulging, with the rugged looks of the wanderer.

Clothing: Having outgrown the by any standards inadequate clothing he fled in, Anirdulf wears rough garments he has patched together, with needle and thread and hours of work, from begged, rejected, and "borrowed" pieces of whale skin. When a piece wears out, he puts another over it. This has resulted in a sort of patchwork quilt, with pieces of all shapes and sizes, too small for the markets or too thin. They are not luxurious or made for comfort, but they keep the wind off him and they are something to wrap himself in at night. Over his breastbone is a piece approximately one palmspan across, with the hole of the killing harpoon directly in its centre, straight over his heart. He will never replace this piece except with an identical one.  His cloak and hood are made in like fashion, and the former completely conceals his cutlass, but he wears no shoes. Although he hunts rabbits for food, he hasn't the skills to cure their pelts to wear, and so he is forced to wear only this

Personality: Anirdulf's is a naturally kind personality and always eager to learn new things but he has become both bitter and cynical following Cár'tuulénís'cór, unwilling to trust people, especially those in power. He harbours a large grudge against Veior Fjorcolm Kjarskamm, and by extension most of the wealthy Avennorian classes. However he is not so stupid as to rush in headlong assault upon his enemy, but rather bides his time, waiting for an opportune moment. He understands the value and power of money, but his ability to be self-sufficient renders it less important than it might otherwise be. He believes also that the power of money corrupts, as evinced by his hatred of the wealthy class. His theory is that the desire for more money increases with the amount already possessed, and has renounced it entirely, as he believes that only thus will he be safe from the lure of it and so ready to confront his foe. He spends most of his free time in the evenings making figurines out of wood. The focused and delicate actions help him to forget his grief. He could make a fair bit of money by selling these, but he feels that this would be giving in to the power of money and would betray his father's memory.

Strengths:

Self-Sufficiency - Anirdulf is almost completely self-sufficient - as noted, he makes his own clothes with rough sewing. This encompasses survival such as camps and related tasks - vital skills for the Helvíl Helvíliás. He never uses money, and on the one occasion he needed something he could not make or steal - his shoes - he traded his services as a scribe directly for this. Money has no hold over him.

Wanderer - As a wanderer, Anirdulf is a reasonably proficient tracker, as well as being able to move undetected well enough to stalk his next meal.

Cutlass - He is also able to use his ancestral cutlass with reasonable proficiency, though he has never had formal instruction. Most bandits would rather run than fight someone who fights back, especially when they look like they haven't got a san to their name anyway. If someone with serious training were after HIM as opposed to any money he may or may not have, Anirdulf's only hope would be to run.

Educated - Anirdulf can read and write Tharian and speaks basic Styrásh.

Sling - Anirdulf has a sling which he uses to hunt. He can throw a stone hard enough to kill a large rabbit, but even to injure a person he would have to be very close or very lucky. He is accurate to about twenty peds (for rabbits - larger targets further)

Weaknesses:

Prejudiced -  Anirdulf has an unreasoning hatred of the wealthy, whose money he regards as the cause of the destruction of his home and murder of his father. This means he has an almost racist prejudice against the wealthy, irrespective of personal merit.  He also loathes cities, as he sees them as symbols of all he despises. He has no real problems with ordinary people with a bit of money, but the rich he lumps together in one block.

Self-Dependent - Anirdulf has no close friends and since he refuses to use money he is totally self-dependent - if he gets injured or attacked he has no-one to call on and no way of obtaining any aid, which can cause him some problems.

Poor Judgement and Mental Problems - His cynicism and bitterness affect his judgement, and he is also prone to bouts of depression and anger.

Mistrust - Anirdulf's ragged clothes and weathered looks mean he is never really accepted by other people. The fact that he is a wanderer and his bitter disposition add to this basic distrust.

History:

Anirdulf's father was Eir Garhild Svanskjun. Anirdulf was his only son, and his mother, Garhild's wife, had died in childbirth. Anirdulf was born to the north of Ravenport, on the west coast of Manthria, south of the village of Kreeswind and near the edge of the Auturian Woods, wherein dwell the Tethinrhim Elves, and lived there for his entire childhood.

Every Boy Needs a Knife (of some size)
Aged 7

"Father?" the voice cut across the rough table at breakfast one morning. Garhild  emerged from behind his poor fare. Despite the fall from grace and wealth that the Svanskjuns had encountered, the Glandorian looks were still in his face, and his ears remained the distinctive slits of those people, the key difference between himself and his son, who had his mother's ears.

 "Yes, son?" he asked, his voice rough, but retaining some of the upper-class accents his family was used to. "Father, why does  Veior Kjarskamm live in a big house and we live in a little one?" "Because the Veior is rich, son," came the world-weary reply. "Can rich people do anything, then?" Anirdulf asked his father, awestruck.

 "No son, their money can do anything, but they can't trust their own money, not in the long run," explained his father, still leaving the son perplexed. "What do you mean, father?" Anirdulf said, confused by the concept of owning something that can do anything, but that you can't trust. Garhild sighed.
 
"Son," he said, "did you ever wonder why you can read and write, but none of the other children can? Most of the adults can't. But you can." Anirdulf thought for a few moments before replying simply "No... Why?" He looked at his father. The reply would change his life.

"Because our family, the Svanskjuns, used to be Veiors in this area. But your ancestors lost it all. One was a gambler. The next wasted what little remained on beer. And so we, who used to be an important family, were reduced to the level of the Skeirs. And our only relics of that past are the skill of writing and reading, and the contents of this box."

With these words he drew his son's attention to the small box in the corner that, when Anirdulf thought about it, he had never seen opened in his life. "Go on, open it," his father urged. The seven-year-old boy crossed to the box, undid the clasp, and opened the old, battered lid. Inside lay a bundle of whale-skin, and inside that, shining in the morning sunlight...

"A cutlass!"

The middle-aged man smiled. "Yes son, a cutlass. The house cutlass, passed down from father to son since our greatness. When I die, it becomes yours. And so to your son." The boy looked up with wide eyes. "You're never going to die, Father. You're always going to be there for me. I know." The man just smiled at his son.

Styrásh Comes to Stay
Aged 7 and a half

One day, the winter after Anirdulf had had his wealthy heritage revealed to him, he and his father were trekking across the fields to collect firewood from the Auturian Woods. As they approached the forest, Anirdulf exclaimed as he saw a fox. He started to run after it, and his father had no choice but to run after him. Eventually Anirdulf lost the fox, which had put on a great turn of speed when it realised it was being chased, and stopped to let his father catch up with him.

 When his father started berating him with the words "What do you think you're doing?", Anirdulf cut him off "Running off like tha-""Why does it matter, father? We can enter the forest from here, and to get home we just need to come back here to the hill with the lone tree on top, go back the way we came, past the stone that looks like a man's head and turn at the fence where we normally do. What's so bad?"

Unable to think of a valid reason, his father acquiesced and they moved towards the forest. They were just passing the edge when an arrow whistled past Garhild's left ear, nicking the lobe. Father and son stopped instantly.

After a tense pause, in which the only sound was the soft tap of a drop of blood hitting the leafy carpet at their feet, the two Svanskjuns espied a man emerging from the inner forest, carrying a bow. Closer inspection revealed him to be an elf, with pointed ears. "Glásáj styrá iú!" he called. "I am sorry".

He was clearly well versed in the Tharian tongue, but just as clearly not a native speaker. He spoke the words as though they were Styrásh synonyms rather than another language. "Lón'raín methorá iú. I am called Lón'raín, that is 'Forest Warrior' in your tongue."

Anirdulf and his father remained unmoving. The elf called again, "I am sorry. I was not meaning to do this, as I did not know you were just peasants." By now he was close enough to touch them with his bow, should he so have wished. Garhild was the first of he and his son to move. He brought his hand to his ear, and held it there to stem the bleeding.

The elf seemed to notice for the first time, and hurriedly moved to Garhild's side. "Tékaaiá. Follow me." Obediently, father and son moved as the elf led them into the forest, and to a tree that he then climbed. When he reached the top, a rope ladder was swung down and Garhild and his son mounted, and had their first sight of the Tethinrhim  border post.

While another elf, who introduced himself as Úlintherá'quarón, "Oath of the Oak", tended Garhild's wound, Anirdulf and Lón'raín talked. They discussed the forest, and elves and men, and finally Anirdulf plucked up the courage to ask what he truly wanted to ask.

"Lón'raín," he said, "will you teach me Styrásh?" The elf was slightly surprised, but smiled and said, "Aih, Anirdulf, qué soorantá iú Styrásh. Yes, Anirdulf, I will teach you Styrásh." And so began Anirdulf's first Styrásh lesson.

Lón'raín was a kind teacher, and Anirdulf a quick and eager learner, and both master and pupil were disappointed when Garhild, his wound bound, stood and called to Anirdulf to leave, as they still needed to get wood and get back home before dark. But both could see the truth in this, and Lón'raín told Anirdulf to return as soon as he was able.

In this way began Anirdulf's education in spoken Styrásh. He never learnt to write the runes, but since he was too young to do and work, his father was happy for him to go the woods each day, as long as he returned with a full load of logs for the fire.

Cár'tuulénís'cór
Aged 10

Anirdulf woke in the middle of the night to the sound of rough voices. He turned over sleepily in his place on the floor where he slept, and saw men in armour swarming through the one room of his house. He saw them drag his father out of bed. He saw them drag him outside, shouting and easily overpowering the late middle-aged man.

They dragged him into the middle of the earth yard, and threw him to the ground. Garhild tried to protest, asking weakly, "Why are you doing this? What do you want?" The men laughed at his plaintive cries. "Kjarskamm wants your pathetic excuse for a house destroyed. It's right in the way of his view, and he wants to build something here that's less of an offensive eyesore."

Anirdulf watched, powerless to help, through a hole in the side of the house, as the leader, who had spoken, delivered a savage kick to his father's stomach. The rest of the mercenaries joined in, in a sickening display of cruelty. Anirdulf couldn't tear his eyes away, although he was powerless to help as the captain unsheathed his sword and with one stroke decapitated Garhild.

Only when his father's lifeless corpse hit the floor was the spell that held Anirdulf broken. He tore his eyes away, and crossing to the old box in the corner withdrew the cutlass, although he was not sure what he alone, with no training, could do against professional mercenaries.

As he crouched by the door, waiting to run, he heard one of the soldiers say, "Didn't Kjarskamm's man say there was a boy as well?" The captain's voice replied, "You, go check. And just kill him, we've had our fun." Anger rose in Anirdulf like a tidal wave, and as the soldier came in to find him in bed, and kill him with one stroke, he leapt and sliced with the cutlass.

It was a useless stroke, but more by luck than judgement it gashed the soldier's calf muscle, and his leg buckled. That second was all Anirdulf needed to run away. The soldier's return stroke gashed his eyebrow, nicking the bone, but before he could strike again, the boy was away. He ran and ran.

When he could run no more, he turned and saw his house, with all it contained, going up in flames.
He stared in disbelief as his life turned to smoke and ashes, and as he watched he named that night in Styrásh, in the fashion of the elves, Cár'tuulénís'cór, Night of Death, words that when Lón'raín had taught them to him he thought he would never need.

The Next Day

When the flames had at last died down, Anirdulf crept back, crept between the huts the like of which his had been just hours before, along the mud streets, until he at last reached the ruins of his house. He knelt down in the ashes, in the mixture of ashes and mud and blood around his father, he knelt with a bare cutlass and rough night clothing and a whale skin cloth and he wept.

He wept until the sun began to peek over the horizon and the grey ashes were illuminated by the cold light of the morning, and he could not weep, he had wept away his sadness and now there was only anger, fury at Veior Kjarskamm, and the money he owned that ensured he would never be brought to justice. He saw people coming from Kjarskamm's house, coming to remove all trace of his house.

"I vow, by my sword which was his, and my blood which came from him, and the ashes of our life which died with him, that you will not escape unpunished, Veior. I vow that, one day, I will kill you, and you will die like my father did. I vow that you will never escape, no matter how you run and hide. I will kill you." His voice was vastly loud as it cracked in the pre-dawn light.

Then, slowly, Anirdulf mounted to his feet. He wrapped the cloth that had covered the cutlass around his shoulders, and held the naked blade in his right hand. Now his father was dead, only one person remained who had been kind to him, one friend had he left on this earth. He began to walk east, to find that one friend. "Lón'raín," he said to himself as he walked.

He followed the same route he had done so many times before, moving along and soon he had reached the place Lón'raín had told him to call from, lest he be shot like his father had almost been. He reached that spot, and called. There was no response. He called again and again. There was still no response. He advanced cautiously, and when no arrows came, plucked up the courage to go inside.

It was empty. He looked around in disbelief, but the room was empty. The bedrolls were gone and all the bows. He climbed back down in a sort of stupor. Then in a fit of rage he seized a branch that was lying on the ground and struck the tree, a huge white oak, with all his strength. The branch shattered. In his anger he seized another and another and struck them both against the tree in short order. The first was rotten and nigh on exploded when it hit. But the impact of the second jarred his arms and knocked him over. He got up, feeling his head where he had struck it on a root. The branch, a fore under two peds, was still intact.

He seized the branch and walked away. He would have no more to do with the elves. To his mind, Lón'raín had betrayed him, and he wanted to have no more to do with any of that kin. He walked away, in no particular direction, deeper into the woods.

It's Cold Out Here
That same night

When the sun fell below the treetops that night, Anirdulf lay down to sleep. He placed the cloth that had covered the cutlass, inadequate as it was, over himself and shut his eyes. He was freezing cold, and the chill air seemed to find its way into every hole in his covering. Despite this, he fell asleep at last.

As Anirdulf began to think about stopping for the night, the observer at the outpost might have seen five shape gliding towards it. On closer inspection, Lón'raín and his fellow guards would be discernable, returning from one of their regular patrols, which were usually ended before Anirdulf arrived for his lessons in Styrásh.

Anirdulf woke in the middle of the night. He felt frozen to the marrow. His fingers and toes were so cold that he could not feel them, and he curled up under the whale skin to try to get back to sleep. It didn't work, and he spent the rest of the night drifting in and out of fitful and restless sleep, in which the vision of his father's murder rose again and again.

He nearly froze to death that night. When morning came, he got up not at all rested and went on, cold iron for bones. That night, however, after another day of aimless wandering, he was sensible and slept in the shelter of an old oak tree. His sleep was relatively unbroken that night, and he walked even further the next day, and slept even warmer.

Wanderer of Wanderers
Aged 10-14

He stayed in the forest, not moving in any direction, and named himself Helvíl Helvíliás, Wanderer of Wanderers, signifying his utter rejection of the luxuries of wealth that allowed Kjarskamm to both kill with impunity and remain insulated from the death. He never again set foot in a city.

He sometimes left the forest to obtain pieces of whale skin from the villages, scraps and off-cuts he found, begged and ultimately stole. He gathered them together, and sewed them with rough, clumsy stitches, using a bone needle and thread he had stolen from a tailor's window when the owner had left to go to the markets. He also took a small knife, for odd jobs around camp.

He cut two strips of skin, about a fore long, from the cloth that he still used to wrap the cutlass, understanding that it needed to be kept dry. A third scrap, stronger than the rest, went between and with much reinforcing of the sewing Anirdulf had a working sling, with which he became relatively adept.

His sewing also improved with time, but his clothes never stopped looking like he had patched them so much there was more patch than clothes. He double-layered where he could, and stuffed his clothes with grass and moss to keep him warmer. And he lived in the Auturian woods and hunted rabbits and planned his revenge.
Weapons:

Cutlass - Anirdulf is reasonably proficient with his ancestral cutlass, as it is a sword that can be used with little or no instruction. The need to defend himself in the wild has meant that he had to learn to use it or die - and while Veior Kjarskamm lives, Anirdulf is not ready to die.

Sling - Anirdulf usually hunts using a sling, which being nothing more than a strip of skin was relatively easy to fashion when faced with the choice "Make one or starve". He is no trained killer with it, but he can stalk to within twenty peds of an unwary rabbit and kill it from there. He doesn't, however, get enough force on it to even seriously injure a man.

Belongings:

He stole most of these, except the stone and the wood. He stole them from houses when the inhabitants were out, so no skills in thieving were needed.

Staff made of white oak.This was the stick that wouldn't break on the tree when he believed that Lón'raín had betrayed him. He has kept it ever since. It is seasoned and strong, and fairly even all the way down.

Needle and thread for repairing his clothes;

Whale skin patches;

Stone for sharpening cutlass;

Whale skin cloth to keep cutlass dry;

Small knife - too small to use as a weapon, just a general tool;

Piece of wood, approximately a palmspan high and four nailsbreadths across the base, which he is carving into a figurine;

Five or six completed similar carvings, which he sometimes give to children, envying and delighting in their carefree innocence.
« Last Edit: February 06, 2010, 04:23:58 PM by Kalína Mërénwèn » Logged

We are all eased out of kids' dreams -
Who can be ripped out of them and live loving after?
Anirdulf Svanskjun
Anirdulf Svanskjun
Helvíl Helvíliás
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« Reply #1 on: January 26, 2010, 02:05:37 AM »

Hey everyone, I think this is ready for commenting now.
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We are all eased out of kids' dreams -
Who can be ripped out of them and live loving after?
Anirdulf Svanskjun
Deklitch Hardin
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« Reply #2 on: January 26, 2010, 10:41:48 PM »

Welcome to Santharia, Anirdulf,

Your CD looks pretty good already to me ... however you might like to consider the following ...

1) As you don't have any familiars, there is no need to mention that. Just delete that part of your CD altogether.

I'll take another look at it tomorrow, but I'm not sure that there's anything else I can get you to change. It is almost midnight local time, and I need my sleep.

Dek
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Seeking the truth, whatever the cost! - Deklitch Hardin, Elf Friend
Anirdulf Svanskjun
Helvíl Helvíliás
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« Reply #3 on: January 28, 2010, 05:53:20 AM »



1) As you don't have any familiars, there is no need to mention that. Just delete that part of your CD altogether.

Done that Dek

Added some detail

Gave him a walking staff

Any more comments much appreciated
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We are all eased out of kids' dreams -
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Anirdulf Svanskjun
Fu Luft
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Human, Avennorian/ Eyelian


« Reply #4 on: January 29, 2010, 06:28:41 AM »

Hi Anirdulf,

And welcome to Santharia from me, too!

I think this is a really good CD. I like how you’ve set your character within the hierarchical Avennorian society. You’ve clearly done some thorough reading!

In terms of comments, I’ve got a few small points, as well as three biggish questions:

Small points first:

- It’s Avennorian. You’ve got an extra “n” in there, both in your thread title and in under “Tribe” in the text.

- Avennorians live in the province of Manthria, not Brendolan. Now, it’s not impossible for an Avennorian family to have moved to Brendolan, of course – but your history very much suggests a Manthrian setting to me.

- Talking about places: it wouldn’t harm if you told us more precisely where Anirdulf grew up, and especially:
Quote
When his shoes fell apart about a month after that cold grim morn, Anirdulf ventured into the city for the first time since then.
Into which city did he venture? (The ubiquitious whale skin would suggest a coastal setting to me. Ciosa?)

- Your Styrash is much better than mine, and probably better than most people’s, even on this site. You might want to consider explaining “Cár'tuulénís'cór” the first time you mention it, rather than the third time … ;)


Biggish points:

(1)   He’s fourteen, and has been on his own since the age of 10. Given that, I wonder whether some of his skills are not implausibly high?

Especially:
Quote
Cutlass - Anirdulf is reasonably proficient with his ancestral cutlass, as it is a sword that can be used with little or no instruction. The need to defend himself in the wild has meant that he had to learn to use it or die - and while Veior Kjarskamm lives, Anirdulf is not ready to die.
You might want to relativate that somewhat. Without any training, Anirdulf is not likely to be a match for, say, a trained soldier, or even for an experienced bandit or pirate.

Also:
Quote
Wanderer - As a wanderer, Anirdulf is a reasonably proficient tracker, as well as being able to move undetected well enough to stalk his next meal.
He is not going to be as good as a trained and experienced hunter, I should think? Again, I’m not saying he can’t have this strength – I’m only saying you might want to relativate it somewhat.


(2)   Where and how did he learn Styrash? I’m not saying it’s impossible that an Avennorian might learn some Styrash, but as far as I know it’s unusual, and would warrant an explanation.


(3)   Hunting with stones:

Quote
Anirdulf's main method of hunting is throwing stones, and he can throw a medium sized stone with enough force to kill at least a rabbit, and to hit one at between twenty and thirty peds.

I admit I have never tried that, and don’t want to – but it doesn’t seem plausible to me. Are you really going to get enough force on a stone to kill a rabbit – especially at 30 peds distance?

My suggestion would be to give Anirdulf a sling. With that, he could get more power on his stones, and it seems plausible that he could have become a reasonably good shot through dire necessity.


I hope this helps!

Good luck on your Santharian journeys,

Fu
« Last Edit: January 29, 2010, 06:43:34 AM by Fu Luft » Logged

Fu Luft
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« Reply #5 on: January 29, 2010, 07:14:08 AM »

Hi again,

just to add, when I said "biggish" points, I should have said "medium-sized". I think you got the big things right in this CD.  :D

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Anirdulf Svanskjun
Helvíl Helvíliás
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« Reply #6 on: January 29, 2010, 07:48:23 AM »

Thanks for the comment!

First - the spelling error: I thought I read it spelt with the extra 'n' but I must have been mistaken. Sorry about that.

Second - area: If you read the entry on the United Kingdoms of Santharia, and especially this bit: 'The United Kingdom of Santharia is divided into eight provinces which intentionally were not based on the borders of the former kingdoms, but on regions which existed aside from the political borders.', and the map to the right, and cp. the map in the Avennoria entry, Avennoria overlaps both Brendolan and Manthria. That bit was to clarify. If you think it confuses people, I'll take it out.

Third - history: I might add a bit but I can't find a good close map to get a view of some cities. Bearing in mind my previous point, do you know any plausible ones in Brendolan? Or where I could find a map?

Fourth - Styrash: My Styrash isn't that amazing, I just read the section and used the dictionary. Added meaning when I first mention it, however. (By the way, you don't know how to get accents on the posting area, do you? Styrash words will be hard to write otherwise.)

Fifth - cutlass: The entry says that it can be used with little actual experience, so as it's also an Avennorian weapon, it seemed the perfect choice ('It is a prefered weapon at sea because of its ability to be used without a lot of training ') His level of skill is not great compared to someone with actual training, but enough to fend off badly armed bandits who would rather run and rob an unarmed lady than risk their lives fighting someone who looks like he isn't carrying a san (which he isn't). If someone with training actually wanted to kill HIM then his only hope would be to run.

Sixth - tracking/stalking: He is fairly experienced, and keeps in practice, as he gets most of his food in this way. Tracking a trained ranger would be beyond his capabilities, but lesser tasks such as untrained men and most animals are within his capabilities.

Seventh - education: I think I mention in the History section that his father teaches him a basic understanding of spoken Styrash, but not how to write. As a previously rich family, higher education was a tradition. (Should I expound on this? Mention in the History section how his distant ancestor hired tutors from Ximax/somewhere else to teach his sons Styrash, then it was passed down the family to Anirdulf?)

Eighth - sling: Definitely, I wasn't thinking that through was I?


I'll get onto those tomorrow - now I'm tired...
« Last Edit: January 29, 2010, 07:50:10 AM by Anirdulf Svanskjun » Logged

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« Reply #7 on: January 30, 2010, 03:25:49 AM »

Hi Anirdulf,

Just a quick note on the Avennorian issue. I quote from the Territory Section of the entry on Avennorians:

"Today the Avennorians mostly inhabit the Santharian province of Manthria, which stretches over the whole Auturian Woods and also includes the comple Mithral Mountains range. To the south the province however only reaches as far as Griffin's Marl."

The map you refer to shows the ancient  Kingdom of Avennoria, which doesn't exist anymore. The Avennorian entry suggests that the Avennorians have mostly retreated into what is now the province of Manthria. That said, if you really prefer Brendolan for some reason, I say go for it.

In general, though, we have more information on Manthria than on Brendolan. Thus, the most detailed provincial map on this site is currently of Manthria: here. So if you're looking for detailed background information for your history (where was Anirdulf born, into which forest did he retreat, which city did he eventually enter), Manthria presents more possibilities, I'd say. Unfortunately, there is at present no detailed map of Brendolan, unless I'm very mistaken.

The sling: you need to include it explicitly as a separate strength; you need to include every weapon with which your character has any skill at all. What you call "self-sufficiency" is a separate strength.

The Styrash: unless I'm much mistaken, the knowledge of Styrash for a human is very unusual. It's not like Latin or Ancient Greek in our world, which some schools routinely offer to their pupils, and which you can learn in most universities. Apart from the elves, only mages generally have a motivation to learn Styrash, I think, because some important scholarly texts about magic are in that language. But otherwise humans have little purpose for it, I think. A suggestion: maybe Anirdulf had a great-aunt who was a wizard and could have taught him a few words? Or his father had a dalliance with an elfess once? Just a few ideas.

Good luck,

Fu
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« Reply #8 on: January 30, 2010, 04:58:45 AM »

Hi Fu,

The bit about Brendolan was to clarify and narrow it down a bit. I'll get rid of that.

How about: Born north of Ravensport (cp. your map). There are two nearby tribes of elves - the Tethinrhim and the Quaelhoirhim - either of whom (probably the former) could have had a bored hunter/border guard willing to teach an eager young boy some Styrash. The he could retreat to the Auturian Woods and go to Ravensport for his shoes?

Sling - added as strength and quantified - I don't want it to be a real combat strength (no David and Goliath posts!) but just a plausible way to hunt. If you like you can check I haven't overpowered that - like I said, it's not a serious fighting tool, it's for hunting.

Hope these work as explanations. I'll upgrade the History if so.
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« Reply #9 on: January 30, 2010, 05:10:06 AM »

Quote
Fourth - Styrash: My Styrash isn't that amazing, I just read the section and used the dictionary. Added meaning when I first mention it, however. (By the way, you don't know how to get accents on the posting area, do you? Styrash words will be hard to write otherwise.)

What I do, is that I go to the dictionary, find the Styrash word I'm wanting, highlight it, right click, select copy, then go into here and select paste. That works for me and brings the accents etc in with it. I'm sure there's probably other ways of doing it, but that's how I do it.
« Last Edit: January 30, 2010, 05:11:34 AM by Deklitch Hardin » Logged

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« Reply #10 on: January 30, 2010, 05:27:14 AM »

Hi Anirdulf,

your ideas sound great to me!

Have fun writing,

Fu
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« Reply #11 on: January 30, 2010, 07:00:50 AM »

Hey,

@Dek - thanks, that's probably the easiest way without scouring the site. I probably won't need Styrash that often, anyway.

@Fu - updated the history so Anirdulf learnt Styrash from an elf manning a border post, born just north of Ravensport, went to Auturian forest (to find his elf friend, who was out hunting/gathering food), and traded his shoes in Ravensport. (History revamps in orange)

Any and all comments most welcome, as always.
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« Reply #12 on: January 30, 2010, 07:06:01 AM »

PS If anyone could tell me how to get normal words to link rather than ugly urls I'd be most grateful

(i.e. How do I link to say my CD with the words "My CD" rather than having to paste http://www.santharia.com/adv/index.php?topic=7483.msg274315#msg274315 after it, which looks really ugly?)
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« Reply #13 on: January 30, 2010, 07:08:06 AM »

[ url=http://www.santharia.com/adv/index.php?topic=7483.msg274315#msg274315]Your text here[/url]

Without the space after the first bracket.
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« Reply #14 on: January 30, 2010, 07:27:26 AM »

I feel like I want to do a little commenting today... Comments will be written in orange


Name: Anirdulf Svanskjun

Gender: Male

Age: 14 winters

Race: Human

Tribe:  Avennorian

Occupation: Wanderer/Part-time scribe

Title: Helvíl Helvíliás ("Wanderer of Wanderers") Interesting. How did you come up with this title?

Overview: After the brutal destruction of his home and killing of his father when he was aged only ten, Anirdulf has taken to wandering, bitter about the fact that wealth let his father's killers act with impunity. He took the title Helvíl Helvíliás to signify that he has renounced all trapping of wealth and all cities. His ultimate goal is revenge on the man whose command condemned his father.

Height: One ped, one fore and eight nailsbreadths.

Weight: One pygge, two hebs

Hair: Short to medium length Injohue hair covers Anirdulf's head. He sports no beard, but is slightly
ragged around the chin with the first hairs of his puberty.

Eyes: Anirdulf has strange eyes - the left eye is Xazure blue, but his right is Sognastheen green, the both run through with streaks of Baveras' Eye.

Physical: Anirdulf is clearly Avennorinan, with typical pale hair. His strange eyes sometimes seem as deep as the bottomless ocean of which they are so strikingly reminiscent, and he is shorter than most men, although nearly full-grown. However, since his family's fall from wealth and influence there has been a fair amount of interbreeding with the more Darian and Tharian lower classes, which has slightly corrupted his Glandorian looks to the extent that he has lost the distinctive ear-slits, although the other characteristics are still strong in his face, marred only by a scar that vertically divides his left eyebrow, a relic of his Cár'tuulénís'cór, his "Night of Death". He is fairly muscular, with the rugged looks of the wanderer.
Very good description you've got here. I can actually see him.

Clothing: Having outgrown the by any standards inadequate clothing he fled in, Anirdulf wears rough garments he has patched together from begged, rejected, and "borrowed" pieces of whale skin. When a piece wears out, he puts another over it. This has resulted in a sort of patchwork quilt, with pieces of all shapes and sizes, too small for the markets or too thin. Over his breastbone is a piece approximately one palmspan across, with the hole of the killing harpoon directly in its centre, straight over his heart. He will never replace this piece except with an identical one. Pieces of whaleskin? Might be nitpicky, but what does he do to keep them together? And wouldn't that be extremely uncomfortable? His cloak and hood are made in like fashion, and the former completely conceals his cutlass, but his shoes are real leather, made by a cobbler in return for his working as a temporary scribe and account keeper for him.

Personality: Anirdulf's is a naturally kind personality and always eager to learn new things but he has become both bitter and cynical following Cár'tuulénís'cór, Who exactly is this person? Is the person a he or a she? What has he done to your character? unwilling to trust people, especially those in power. He harbours a large grudge against Veior Fjorcolm Kjarskamm, Now, I'm not sure that everyone here knows who this person here is, so would you care to make it easier and tell us who he (or she? O.o) is... and by extension most of the wealthy Avennorinan classes. However he is not so stupid as to rush in headlong assault upon his enemy, but rather bides his time, waiting for an opportune moment. He understands the value and power of money, but his ability to be self-sufficient renders it less important than it might otherwise be. He believes also that the power of money corrupts, as evinced by his hatred of the wealthy class. His theory is that the desire for more money increases with the amount already possessed, and seeks to renounce money for money's sake, as he believes that only then will he be safe from the lure of it and so ready to confront his foe. He spends most of his free time in the evenings making figurines out of wood. Wooden figurines? You could make this your occupation and sell some of them. Just an idea. The focus<-- Remove this s here...sed and delicate actions help him to forget his grief.

Strengths:
Self-Sufficiency - Anirdulf is almost completely self-sufficient - as noted, he makes his own clothes <--- Remove this space. This encompasses survival such as camps and related tasks - vital skills for the Helvíl Helvíliás. He never uses money, and on the rare occasion he needs something he cannot make or steal he will trade his services as a scribe directly for this. Money has no hold over him. Makes his own clothes, eh? Mentioned it before, but what does he do to keep them together?

Wanderer - As a wanderer, Anirdulf is a reasonably proficient tracker, as well as being able to move undetected well enough to stalk his next meal.

Cutlass - He is also able to use his ancestral cutlass with reasonable proficiency, though he has never had formal instruction. Most bandits would rather run than fight someone who fights back, especially when they look like they haven't got a san to their name anyway. If someone with serious training were after HIM as opposed to any money he may or may not have, Anirdulf's only hope would be to run.

Educated - Anirdulf can read and write Tharian and speaks basic Styrásh.

Sling - Anirdulf has a sling which he uses to hunt. He can throw a stone hard enough to kill a large rabbit, but even to injure a person he would have to be very close or very lucky. He is accurate to about twenty peds (for rabbits - larger targets further)

Weaknesses:
Prejudiced -  Anirdulf has an unreasoning hatred of the wealthy, whose money he regards as the cause of the destruction of his home and murder of his father. This means he has an almost racist prejudice against the wealthy, irrespective of personal merit.  He also loathes cities, as he sees them as symbols of all he despises. <-- Remove space

Self-Dependent - Anirdulf has no close friends and since he refuses to use money he is totally self-dependent - if he gets injured or attacked he has no-one to call on and no way of obtaining any aid, which can cause him some problems.

Poor Judgement and Mental Problems - His <-- Remove space cynicism and bitterness affect his judgement, and he is also prone to bouts of depression and anger.

Mistrust - Anirdulf's ragged clothes and weathered looks mean he is never really accepted by other people. The fact that he is a wanderer and his bitter disposition add to this basic distrust.

I'll skip your history assuming you have done a good job...

Weapons:
Cutlass - Anirdulf is reasonably proficient with his ancestral cutlass, as it is a sword that can be used with little or no instruction. The need to defend himself in the wild has meant that he had to learn to use it or die - and while Veior Kjarskamm lives, Anirdulf is not ready to die.

Sling - Anirdulf usually hunts using a sling, which being nothing more than a strip of skin was relatively easy to fashion when faced with the choice "Make one or starve". He is no trained killer with it, but he can stalk to within twenty peds of an unwary rabbit and kill it from there. He doesn't, however, get enough force on it to even seriously injure a man..
There's nothing wrong here, as far as I can see

Belongings:
Staff carved from white oak. He cut this from the place he camped the second night after Cár'tuulénís'cór, and he has kept it ever since. It is seasoned and strong, and fairly even all the way down.
Needle and thread for repairing his clothes;
Whale skin patches ditto;
Stone for sharpening cutlass;
Whale skin cloth to keep cutlass dry;
Small knife (stolen);
Piece of wood, approximately a palmspan high and four nailsbreadths across the base, which he is carving into a figurine;
Five or six completed similar carvings, which he sometimes give to children, envying and delighting in their carefree innocence.

I removed your clour to make it easier to comment. Overall, it's a good start. Good luck on getting this approved! ;)
« Last Edit: January 30, 2010, 07:28:30 AM by Ridgen Sú'ufanán » Logged

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