Edvard Lecklaen

[Edvard Lecklaen]

Edvard Lecklaen Basic Information Race: Human Birthday & Age: 18th of Summer, 490 AV, 21 or thereabouts Birthplace: Syliras, Maiden District Gender: Male Physical Description Edvard stands a little higher than the average man, perhaps boasting an inch or two over most, but is not distractingly tall. With a largely average frame, he doesn't stick out as someone special in such a place as Syliras, his Mediterranean tone darkening and paling with the seasons. Often times, one can find his hair rather ruffled after a good spar with a friend or hard work under a wide brimmed hat or helm. Eventually it grows to be too long, and he lops it off liberally, leaving the near-brown hair hard pressed to get past four inches. With dull green eyes he observes his mentors, eager to take in what he can, for later those same eyes must study that which is required, and he'd much rather a blade in his hand than his nose in a book. Usually he's found clad in earthy tones, browns and greens, and in the colder months his cloak shields his frame from a harsh wind or two. Often times he treads the streets with leather boots, undyed and broken in, his only distinguishing mark being the sleeveless, burgundy gambeson he acquired the other year. Character Concept A rather normal person to look at, one would find him to be average in mind as well, at least what most of the population of Syliras would consider normal. Ed enjoys hard work, whether physical or mental, and the rewards that it brings, prefers honest individuals and interaction, and, though he is more generous and friendly than most, enjoys the occasional rude jab or mean trick, as most young men do. He helps those who need it, but more often than not he takes work that pays over charity. Edvard is the kind of person who is never pleased with what he does, no matter what it is. If he's responsible for it, whether it's a creation of some sort or an action he's taken, he often looks back on it with some form of disdain. He thrives in certain situations on stress, and has seemed to create a mental mechanism which finds something in everything to draw off of, but luckily for everyone he knows, he doesn't press this stress onto others. Learning is a subject Edvard has a mixed view of, for he loves to learn that which he can use or has an innate fascination with, however, for subjects that hold little meaning or use for him he has little time for. He prefers to learn hands-on, by doing, rather than by simply watching or listening. Character History Pre-creation: Edvard was born the first son of two rather unimportant inhabitants of the city of Syliras, his mother a basket weaver and his father a woodsman. With a rather uneventful childhood living in his family's spartan quarters, he often took to the streets for entertainment, running with the other children, playing games and getting into the occasional tussle with one who'd challenge him. This changed when his father decided to take him outside of the great walls and into the wilder lands. The pair didn't venture far, but the sight was enough to fill a young boy with awe. While the city itself was, in its own right, a place of wonder and civilization, the green lands that lay outside took a special hold on Edvard's soul. The sheer size of it was, until then, incomprehensible to the lad, who had lived on the cramped streets, seeing only the occasional glance of the city at large, for most of his life. It was in the following months and years that his father would take him outside, rarely venturing farther than an hour's walk from the gate, teaching him the basics of life outside the walls. He learned the plants that grew in abundance around the city's walls, their uses and values, and as time progressed and the two ventured further, he began to learn of the creatures that they shared the land with. When he turned twelve, they finally began to tentatively explore the bronze woods, though his father was more concerned with their well being, especially Edvard's, than teaching, however, that's not to say he wasn't, and his instruction on the ways of the woods continued. The streets never seemed the same to Edvard again, and though he often played and brawled with his friends, they didn't seem as fun as they once did. The open expanse beyond the wall called his name, the smell of trees and grass, the feeling of a soft, westerly breeze on his skin. The city lacked much of this, the cold stone of the halls held little warmth, and the only life one found aside from the inhabitants was the occasional rat or other pest. He longed to be back outside, even in his dreams, where he ran amongst the trees and creeks. Before long, Edvard soon found himself with his father's bow in his hands, beginning to practice at the encouragement of his father. At first he never even held an arrow, rather simply drawing back the string, and on several occasions his father told him to hold it drawn as far as he could muster for as long as he could stand. Such times were never quite popular with Edvard, but in hindsight he greatly appreciated the efforts that his father took to teach him the trade. For weeks such practice went on, dry firing the bow and building his arms to where they could take the punishment of the weapon, until the day he was granted his first arrow. Edvard had thought that something was up when he noticed that there was a sack sitting atop a crate. Excited for obvious reasons, quickly took up the weapon and its ammunition, and with but a few seconds of planning, let his missile fly. He missed, but it was his first time, and far from his last. For several days during the week he was taken out into the fields, given that he wasn't helping his aunt, the rug merchant, with her wares, and he eagerly took to practice. For a time, most of his arrows missed the sack, save for the occasional glancing blow, though within a month's time he could put an arrow into the sack, he just couldn't pick where in it it'd go. For years this continued, his father taking him to the woods, showing him the relations between beast and plant, how to live off of the land, the intricacies of his weapon, and how, Gods forbid, to defend himself, from near or far. As he grew older, the practice came less and less often, even the odd hunts that he and his father would share began to wane, and more and more he ventured out on his own, exploring, practicing, and just doing. The act of being outside of the walls imbued him with a sense of belonging, rather than being holed up in some corner of a citadel, and though he had to remain alert for much of the time, he felt at peace in the dangerous and wide world that he'd yet to begin to understand. His father, noticing this, took use of the boy's energy and eagerness to venture out into the wood, and for the time being, allowed him to help support the family, which by then had grown to includ a sister two years Edvard's junior, Andrea, whom he was fairly fond of, and an even younger brother, Matthias, at five years. Though he didn't let Ed do all the work, he let him take up a great deal of the slack, largely for Edvard's own good, as he was, for two years or so, the primary provider for his family. Such, figured his father, would prepare him for life, as well as hone his skills, and for the most part he was correct. When Edvard turned nineteen, at least to his parents, he was given his father's bow, and was cut free from the bond he'd shared with them for so long. Not to say he didn't see them every now and then, for he did, especially happy to help either of his siblings in their efforts to find a trade of their own, but the time he devoted to his family was rather lackluster in comparison to that he spent honing his skill with a bow or prowling the Bronze Wood. However, now that he wasn't needed to provide for a family of five, he had a great deal of time free to do what he pleased. After two nights drunk in the gutter, he took to less intoxicating pursuits, one of which, interestingly, lead him to begin reading. He'd pick up a book here or there with his spare coin, even, on occasion, bartering work for one, but there were things that fascinated him, things that he'd, otherwise, rarely see. Far away lands, places that are and were, people, and especially the Knights. How the Knights intrigued him, despite living in Syliras for as long as he had, he knew so little about the enigmatic order, whose history, and fate, were tied to the city so closely. For weeks he searched for a work on them, in between work outside and inside the walls, though he's yet to find one to his satisfaction. And so, with the purchase of a burgundy gambeson in the prior autumn, Edvard finds himself looking for something a bit more meaningful than being a simple woodsman, even treating the fanciful dream that he might, some day, join the ranks of those who guard the citadel. But, in the mean time, he spends his days practicing with his weapon, hunting the occasional quarry, and doing what he can for some spare coin. Post-creation: More to come. Training   Skills Skill Points Rank Shortbow 20 Novice Longsword 10 Novice Brawling 10 Novice Running 5 Novice Cooking 5 Novice Hunting 5 Novice Wilderness Survival 5 Novice Persuasion 5 Novice   Lores Lore Acquisition Syliran Culture and Customs Starting Package History of Syliras Starting Package Common - Fluent and Literate Starting Package Nari - Conversational Starting Package Pavi - Phrases Starting Package   Equipment and Possessions Weapons and Tools Armor Clothing Field Gear and Miscellanea Longsword Sleeveless Gambeson Linen Shirt Rucksack Shortbow Leather Bracers Sackcloth Trousers Waterskin 40 Arrows Leather Boots Leather Belt Toiletries Eating Knife Wool Cloak Provisions for a Week   Housing Housing One 20x20 room in Syliras with basic furnishings   Ledger Transactions Result Current Total 100 GM - 2 GM for 40 arrows 98 GM - 5 GM for a padded gambeson 93 GM - 6 GM for a pair of leather bracers 87 GM - 15 GM for an iron longsword 72 GM 72 GM 72 GM Thread List