Title: Character Description Archives ~ B
Post by: Gararion on October 20, 2003, 09:26:22 AM
Character Description Archives
Welcome to the Approved Characters Archives. In here you can find most of the approved characters that have come through this board. Please note that some may have been lost or some may not be added to the archives yet.
*Bergwynn Aielwin ~ last updated on 4/3/03 ~ titled
*Bran Stahlfang ~ last updated on 3/20/03 ~ titled
* on this thread, do not edit
Edited by: Rayne Avalotus at: 11/27/03 11:09
Title: Re: Character Description Archives ~ B
Post by: Gararion on October 20, 2003, 10:27:22 AM
Title: Re: Character Description Archives ~ B
Post by: Gararion on October 20, 2003, 10:28:22 AM
Bergwynn is a slightly tall for an elf, reaching 2.4 peds, and he weighs in the region of 1.80 pygges. His green eyes compliment his blonde hair, which he keeps bound behind his head to keep it out of his way while smithing. Starting over his left eye and going down to his cheek Bergwynn has a scar, which barely missed his eye. Around his right bicep is a black tattoo of a double headed dragon named Lewys:
Bergwynn sticks to colors of brown and green, as they compliment his hair and eyes, When not garbed in his traditional Blacksmithing apron and covered in soot, he dresses in his formal attire, which consists of a green silk shirt, and brown wool pants, belted at the waist by a silk belt with a silver dragon buckle, made by his great-great-great-great grandfather, and passed down the generations. On this belt are two sheaths, each holding an elven Iurias. His other weapon of choice is a blacksmiths hammer, which he keeps at all times when not wearing his swords. He wears a cape which is green on one side and brown on the other.
Being larger and stronger than most of his peers, Bergwynn has evolved a seeming gentle nature most of the time. Many of his friends think him to be slow or even stupid, but this is due only to the fact that he thinks through every possible answer or circumstance as far into the future as is needed. He is not one to play a quick game of chess with. He tends to do what is right, or as he sees is right, though he will never betray trust. His likes mostly evolve around his friends, though they also evolve around his smithy. He prides himself in making some of the best equipment in town, though he doesn't have much competition. His friends are mostly his training peers, as he had been put through rigorous training with the local swordsmen. He and his friends are known to hang out till late hours laughing and even singing. He loathes anyone who would intentionally do wrong. His training as a blademaster was due to his vigor for fighting evil.
*Bergwynn was born to Sheriam and Eregwin Aielwin, a working family. His father a blacksmith, and his mother a housewife. At the age of 15 his parents had another child, a girl, named Errolyn. He started schooling at the age of 25, and quit when he reached his 35th naming day, claiming he had learned enough, which was little more than how to read, and most of the basic arithmetic.
*4 months after his 37th naming day, a band of Coorhem raided his village. Killing many and taking hostages, his sister and father included, attempting bravery, he grabbed his fathers forge hammer and hit a dark elf on the head from behind, killing it instantly. Seeing his companion go down, another Coorhem slashed expertly at Bergwynn’s face with a scimitar. Bergwynn escaped great injury by leaping back, though he does have a scar over his left eye as a reminder of the little foray. His father was returned by the local guards, but his sister was never found. After this event he spent his day hours apprenticing under his father as a blacksmith, and his night hours with the guards as a blademaster; an unlikely combination. His mother took ill, and died not much after his 40th naming day, leaving only Bergwynn and his father left. After about 20 years, he took over as the head blacksmith, producing, if possible, a higher quality product than his father. Mostly he made horseshoes and household items, but now and then a guardsman came in to have him make armor or even an Iurias or kýrass. After his 40th naming day, his father presented him with a gift, an Iurias with the family name inscribed along the blade, this blade he named Aiybar, after his geat grandfather. He had secretly been making his own blade working from the design of one of his masters blades, he named this blade Peyrine, after his grandmother, and now he had two. At this point he had been working with the local blademasters long enough to be using real blades. When he brought both of them in, he asked if it would be possible to practice with both at the same time, as he could not choose which one to use. After weeks of denying him the privilege, they finally acquiesced.
*During this hard and constant training, there were very few people there his age, two aside from him, and they were born within two years of him. He had met neither of them before going to training, and they quickly became fast friends. They were Matrym and Rend; Mat studied the quarterstaff, and Rend a single two handed blade, the kýrass. Mat was the son of a scribe, his mother; his father died while he was young, helping defend against the Coorhem. Rend’s father was a stonemason, while his mother taught archery. During nights that none of them had to do any work or practice, they often went deep into the woods to talk and joke around a small campfire. One time, when it was slow at the Smith, the three took off for three days to see what life was like outside from their village, as none had ever passed the boundaries for more than a short while, a day at most. Their talk soon came to the topic of Dragons, as it often did when they were talking. Since Mat’s mother was a Scribe, he was always able to snag a book or two, and he brought them to his friends. One they had all read a multitude of times was ‘The Dragons Tail’, a story of a hero charged with slaying a dragon, but instead becoming fast friends with it, together they went on adventures involving other dragons of every sort and eventually saved a maiden in distress from an evil mage. The trio of boys read that over and over again. They had come to call their triumvirate of friends the Kaýr Dragons. For this excursion Bergwynn had stolen some needles from his mother, and Mat some ink from his mother, and they each tattooed a dragon on each others left bicep, for each of them were left handed. They had spent weeks designing and drawing out the dragons for each persons arm; each dragon was designed to represent each players fighting style. For Rend they came up with Telamyn, a large and fierce dragon, although slow and deliberate. Mat’s Dragon Theryn was a small and agile dragon. For Bergwynn they drew up a long two headed dragon named Lewys, which coils around his arm twice, one head going each way, one head for each blade he uses.
*Years progressed as he learned this double bladed fighting technique. His skills as a blacksmith earned him a good reputation, and soon many people applied for apprenticeships. He denied all of them, as he was still well before his prime of life, and he still had help from his father when needed. He continued his studies daily, and he always practiced for hours into the night. One day, as he walked along with his friends, he found a falcon egg lying on the ground. He was surprised it was still intact, and he took it home, in full belief that the contents were dead. He found the egg to be a thing of beauty and so he kept it. He was wrong however, and a week of keeping it on his mantle above the fireplace, it hatched. He trained this falcon, Fayeel he called it. Fayeel always comes back to perch on his right shoulder whenever he whistles.
*When he turned 132, his friends left training to become guardsmen, their skills sufficient enough. It was at this point that he excelled his training, never taking nights off for fun, as he rarely ever saw either of the Kaýr Dragons, and his days were spent working hard at the forge, sweating away on projects that now even nobles came to him for.
*When he turned 150, he took on an apprentice, a well built elf named Faurgwen, who took on the trade well. None knew why he took on this apprentice, as he was still young and perfectly suited for being the master blacksmith. At the age of 203 however, Faurgwen being fully trained (if not quite as skillful), he left the village in search of his sister. He had been officially proclaimed Blademaster and could best any and all of his teachers at the age of 201. When his father had been rescued, no signs of his sister had been found, her father said she had escaped while he distracted their captors ,and he had always kept hope that she still lived in the outside world. He knew he would recognize her. She had been one of the rare Kayrrhem elves to be born with purple eyes. He set out on foot, with some food and supplies, all the money he had saved for this occasion and a few changes of clothes.
*Bergwynn traveled far and wide for 20 years, searching for his sister without avail. Every now and then he would hear a snippet about a beautiful girl with purple eyes traveling with a menagerie who had a great ability to juggle and throw knives, which kept his hopes up. His money and food ran out, so he worked for blacksmiths in other towns to make ends meet. He traveled west to the cities of Zhunith, looking for his sister, the only details of her that he had were her eyes. He searched all over the Nybelmar continent, and continues to look for her even now, though he feels that he is closing in on her. News of the traveling menagerie seemed to be everywhere, only locating it was the hard part, during the offseason they to an undisclosed location to practice new routines.
Bergwynn is an emotional elf, he has a huge heart, though he will not always show it. He knows not to be too trusting, though he looks for friendship whenever he can find it. Were one of his friends to betray him, he would be extremely bogged down. One thing he can't seem to do is get a constant female companion, no matter how hard he tries. In close combat, he will nearly always come on top with up to 2-3 opponents, more than that he becomes overwhelmed. Also he cannot shoot a bow if his life depended on it, and it sometimes has. Aside from his sword fighting skills, he is not very agile. He cannot run very fast, although he can run for a long time. At any mention of his sister he becomes immediately emotional, and if she is brought up negatively, he becomes irrational and berserk. He has a low tolerance for alcohol, and once drunk almost any piece of knowledge can be attained. Any mention of Coorhem is easily enough to get his blood boiling, were he to see one he would stop at nothing till either were dead, unless strong reason prevailed.
Bergwynn is an excellent swordsman, a blademaster. He can best nearly anyone in a one-on-one close combat, and if he loses, he learns from his mistakes, he spends hours a night practicing his forms and honing his skills. His two-bladed fighting style is enough to throw off most enemies. For enemies within a reasonable distance, he is quite handy with a sling, but beyond the range of that sling he is useless. He is a master blacksmith, and can always help local blacksmiths on his journeys, therefore he is able to make his own keep. His falcon, Fayeel is an expert hunter, and even a guard, alerting Bergwynn if danger approaches.
The only thing that Bergwynn has kept from the beginning of his travels are his two blades, and his belt buckle heirloom. He wears soft leather walking boots, brown pants, greent shirt, and a grey cloak. Here is a very basic picture of his swords:
When I looked up Curved longsword I found them to be described a lot like Katanas, but maybe a little bigger, so if anyone has problems with these, just let me know
Animals / Family
He has a companion, although he does not consider it a pet. His falcon Fayeel is more of a friend, whom he trusts more than anyone or anything else. Fayeel is an expert hunter, able to find rabbits and other rodents when Bergwynn needs food. Fayeel can also let Bergwynn know of any approaching danger. The falcon is not in the bestiary, however since it is a known bird, I hope it to be accepted.
Name: Bran Stahlfang
Birthday: 21st of June
Place of birth: Village of Kargul (Celeste Lowlands)
Highth: 2.09 peds
Width: 0.8 at the shoulders
Weighth: 2.8 pygges
Tribe: Helvet’ine Kuglim
Class: Cavalry man, archer, field-medic
Sturdy physique (common for the Kuglimz), rather dark complexion. Long grey beard, plaited to five braids that reach to his chest. Bald shoven head. A wing is tattooed onto both of Bran´s temples. Rather big belly (he just can´t resist neither the cream pies his wife always makes for him ;D nor any other good meal...but he´s not "fat" though). All four canine-teeth had to be replaced by replicas of mithril (reason given in history-pannel). His body is covered with scars of all sizes, one going down from the left shoulder all the way down to the right side of his waist. His common facial expression is a grim indifferent mask of scars, wrinkles, and two steel-grey eyes that attentively lurk beneath a frowning forehead.
Bran was born to a family of great riders and cavalry men in the village of Kargul several miles outside the city-limits of Lu’Welima. His father, Holgar Grimfang, was the captain of the Kargul cavalry regiment, being a truly skilled rider, archer and fighter. His mother, Shan’loa, was not only a loving and caring woman, but also the head-chef of the Elder´s hut (this is not a restaurant!!!) in Kargul. A year after Bran was born, his father was commanded to lead the troops of Kargul and join forces with other cavalry regiments of the Kuglimz to start a campaign against the orcs of the Losh’Oc clan. When Holgar finally returned to Kargul after eight years and a great victory over the orcs, Bran was already well taught in horse-riding and the art of archery. It seemed he was quite gifted in handling the everywhere-known and -feared longbow. He even managed to shoot those unwieldy bows from horse-back – and landing the hit right where he wants it! Holgar was very impressed by the skills of his son, needless to say he was even more proud than impressed. For the next six years, Holgar taught Bran everything he knew (and that´s quite a bit) in swordfighting, cavalry tactics, first aid and surviving in hostile environments. Bran turned out to be a formidable fighter.
Well, as nothing is eternal but the gods themself, Holgar Grimfang was killed during a new campaign against the Losh’Oc that invaded the territory of the Helvet’ine Kuglimz once again. Bran swore bloody revenge for this. By that time he was 16 years old. On his 18th birthday, Bran asked the blacksmith of Kargul, Thorolf “Honest” Bloodfist, to forge him a black and gold plate mail (the colours of the Helvet’ine Kuglimz) adjusted exactly to his measurments, then a longsword with a hilt in the form of two wings. The blacksmith agreed, and in fact even encarved the armor with runes of protection and strength.
But that wasn´t all. With the age of 18, Bran was finally allowed to bear the heavy rider´s lance of his father, with his family´s symbol, the winged lance, on a pennant on top of it. Another precious item he was presented with was his father´s gothic shield with the Helvet’ine´s tribe-smbol – the lance-bearing golden eagle. At that time he married the stunning-beautyful daughter of the current captain of Kargul´s cavalry regiment, Shan'eira Zartwange (=Smoothcheek). One year later, Holgar´s battle horse, a great specimen of the Kev'lor war-horses, gave birth to a black mare with a bright white blaze. Because of this - for Kev'lor horses - uncommon colour, it was named Blackmane. Unfortunately, the birth of the young horse was too complicated, so that it´s mother had to be “put to sleep” in order to save the young life. It took Bran long to raise and to train Blackmane to be a proper war-horse. And indeed, the horse was an honor to its race.
As the years went on, Bran achieved higher and higher ranks in the hirarchy of Kargul´s cavalry regiment. And he gained more and more experience in combat chasing splinter-groups of the Losh’Oc out of the Kuglim territory with the cavalry regiment. At the age of 39 he was promoted to be the captain of the Kargul cavalry regiment. Feeling greatly honored, he accepted, not only to continue the family´s tradition, but also to have revenge for his father´s death. But fate wouldn´t let go off him. 8 days after his promotion his mother and his wife both died of a rare desease. At first Bran wanted to resign his post as a captain and wander off, but convinced himself to stay. A year later, he and a dozen of his elite cavalry men were sent out to chase a small group of some Losh’Oc´s, as for some scouts had spotted them building a camp several miles south of Kargul. They were said to be about 15 to 20. So Bran and his 12 men left to hunt down the orcs, not knowing what REALLY was about to happen...
It was a freezing Tuesday morning when the men left the village of Kargul. Riding southwards, they soon spotted the silhouettes of a bunch of orcs weirdly dancing around a camp-fire. “That´s them!” Bran said to his men, then gave the signal to form a lance-formation. The captain pressed his legs into the sides of Blackmane, making the horse run faster. “BOWS!” he shouted, securing his lance in a socket attached to his saddle and pulling his longbow and an arrow from his back. The orcs seemed not to be impressed by the towering barbarians on their humongous armored horses, as they were still dancing about. Carefully aiming at the tallest of the green dancers, he let go of the string and sadistacally grinned as the green-skin fell down with an arrow-pierced throat. Bran´s smile widened as he saw that the rest of his men landed equal hits at the dancers. “LANCES!” Bran said, putting his bow back onto his back, taking his gothic shield, that pended from Blackmane´s rear armor, into his left hand and his rider´s lance into his right hand. The elites did as their captain did, turning around their horses to charge at the rest of the orcs.
Just like being one orc at all, the green-skins suddenly stopped their dance, now standing upright like waiting to be crushed by the Helvet’ine cavalry men. And like someone gave the signal, all of the dancers dropped onto the ground. Bran figured out what was going on, but it was too late. From all sides orcs rose from the sand they hid under, firing at the barbarians with short- and cross-bows. Two of Bran´s men fell, including their horses, onto the dusty wasteland ground, where they were instantly killed by the orcs who were crawling out of holes in the sand. Even a troll rose from the ground right infront of Bran, but that wasn´t really too good for the troll, as the captain had already put the pole of his lance into a gap in his shield, making it easier for him to aim. The lance´s tip pierced through skin, muscles and neck-bone of the troll, sending him to the hellpit that he spawned from. Bran had to let go of his lance, but that wasn´t too big of a problem for him, as he was a skilled swordsman. He was just unsheathing his longsword as the tallest of the orcs shouted: “Me wunz da big guy!!!” . Not too bright this orc was, according to the decapitation that followed a heartbeat later. In horror Bran saw his men go down one by one, as they were heavily outnumbered by the green-skins. Riding his horse away from the Losh’Oc about 50 peds, Bran got off of Blackmane´s back, then whispered into the horses ear. “Advolae at domo...cito!”. The horse did as its master commanded, avoiding the arrows of the orcs and gallopping towards the village of Kargul. Charging at the orcs with rightious fury, he scythed them down like wheat, but there were just too many, even for a warrior like Bran Stahlfang. In the end, the Kuglim was clubbed unconscious.
It was night. A horrible pain woke Bran up. The barbarian was tied to a frame of wood, his arms and legs spread into all directions. The pain was red glowing steel-pole that an orc stabbed into Brans´s chest. With dull senses he recognized that his upper and lower canine-teeth had been ripped out. Blood ran down a gigant cut from top left shoulder to lower right waist and several smaller cuts all over his body. Bran wanted to scream in pain, but his pride made him keep quiet. An old yet strong green-skin stepped up to him. “U got da eyes af ya pappa, human...id shall be ma tshoy to ripp em out!!!”. These words made Bran shiver, not from pain, but from uncontrollable anger and bloodlust. “And ish shall be my pleashure to ripp out yoursh” the barbarian hissed. The orc looked a bit confused, then turned around and walked off, then said to one of his minions: “Giffim da pole...”. The orc with the steel-pole nodded, then stepped up to Bran, stabbing him into the right leg. The pole pierced through the whole upper leg, and the Kuglim lat out a scream not of agony, but the one of bloodthirsty berserk. With a strength that was even new to the barbarian himself, he tore apart the ropes that held him tight, then doing the same with the orc that stabbed him just by his bare hands.
Now, what further happened that night is not necessary to be told, but let it be said that Bran had his revenge for his father and from the next day on he wore a necklace made of orc-teeth. Half way back at the village of Kargul, he was picked up by a scout-patrol that carried him back to the village – including his (surprisingly) almost unharmed armor, his longsword, his longbow, and the two most precious things: his father´s gothic shield and the family´s rider´s lance.
Back at the village, he let Thorolf craft 4 mithril canine-teeth. That is the reason he was named Stahlfang (= steelfang). But as it was the All-father´s will, a captain that has failed not only to lead, but also to protect the ones that follow him, that captain has to be outcasted. But outcasted does not mean to be forgotten. Bran Stahlfang´s name was honored and written down in Kargul´s book of leaders. And so, at the age of 43, the former captain of Kargul´s cavalry regiment wandered off to see the world, although limping on the right side, but mostly riding on Blackmane, with the shield and the lance in his hands.
There are two things Bran can definately NOT stand. First thing: Being interrupted during breakfast, lunch, dinner or every other meal. Really. Don´t ever do that. Second thing: Orcs. Ugly, stinking, green-skins. Especially those of the Losh’Oc clan. Keep them away from him – and him away from them. Could get messy. And don´t make fun of his belly. When Bran gets to meet new people or come to a place he doesn´t know, he will most of the time remain calm and quiet in a corner. Conversation isn´t really something Bran likes to spend his time on.
When having to fight, Bran will most of the time charge right at his attackers, with the gothic shield in his left and the heavy rider´s lance in his right hand. He may sometimes also secure the shield at Blackmane´s rear side-armor and the lance in a socket attached to the saddle. When doing so, Bran uses his trusty longbow to attack and defend, although he uses his bow more for hunting from horseback than for fighting from horseback. But dismounted he is not less a strong and brave warrior, wielding his longsword in brute but quite effective blows.
Like common for the Kuglimz, Bran prays to Sur’tyan (the All-father) and Lier’tyan (the All-mother). Before entering a combat, he will mostly pray to Sur’tyan – if possible – to influence him with the power to vanquish his enemies. Praying to both Sur’tyan and Lier’tyan is only considered necessary before great battles, and not just because of a bunch of green-skins. Bran also believes in an after-life, meaning when dead, he will stand at the side of the greatest warriors of the Helvet’ine Kuglimz.
- Black and gold coloured medium plate mail, adjusted to Bran´s sizes, encarved with runes of protection and strength
- Gothic shield, with the Helvet’ine tribe´s symbol, the lance-bearing golden eagle
- Heavy rider´s lance, with a pennant on top showing Bran´s family-symbol, the winged lance
- Longsword, with a cross in the form of two wings
- Longbow, made of black-oak wood
- 20 black-oak arrows, with jagged hunting-tips (used to inflict messy, hard-to-heal wounds)
- 10 black-oak arrows, with slim iron-tips made by the Elves of the Shaded Forests (armor penetrators) (Bran traded these as he traveled south through those woods)
- common dagger, in a sheath pending from his belt
- 2 medium bottles of “Wulfen Blood” (see character description of ‘Angron Bloodfist’ for details on this potion)
- small chest filled with many different kinds of herbs, making this chest somewhat of a first-aid kit
- several bags and pocktes of all sizes, bound to Bran´s belt
- heavy combat-boots
- iron-frame glasses, in a steel-case to keep it safe
- black heavy iron gauntlets, right one spiked
- Helvet'ine war-horn (signal horn, made of the curved-back horn of a ram. Used to give acustic signals over short to medium ranges.)
- Blackmane: black female steed, armed in black and gold plate mail
- Bran is a very skilled rider and archer. He is said to be able to split a coin at 70 peds. His formidable skills with the longsword are to be mentioned, too. The two best things Bran can do, is, of course, handling his heavy rider´s lance when charging at his foes, and, naturally, eating ( ^_^ ). But as said before, do not interrupt him during a meal. Never.
- From his mother, Bran learned everthing about first aid and taking care of wounds of all kinds. He is very good at these things.
- For Bran, the night is a time that should be used to rest and recover, not for fighting or other certain physical activities. His sight during night-time is uncommonly bad, making him easy of a target for enemies that attack from the shades.
- Hatred against all green-skins. Bran is likely to attack orcs even if they just look at him in a way that he doesn´t like. In many barfights this has led to several crushed skulls and broken limbs (not Bran´s own skull of course!). When being in an open combat against orcs, it will probably get really messy.
- Bran is badly short-sighted. He has to wear glasses when reading or when he wants to get a clear view of the people he may be talking to.
- This scar-covered hulk likes to present his many scars in public. This may be allright when being with other Kuglimz, but in other places, like taverns in the south or so where there are not too many "barbarians", it could quite turn out to be a problem. Bran has sometimes even been thrown out of taverns (although many men were needed for this) because the people there were too ignorant to see the honor of bearing scars resulting from battles and so on. Without his armor and leather-shirt on, he reminds one more of a walking cave-bear or any other fury hulk.
Powered by SMF 1.1.21 | SMF © 2005, Simple Machines