from the grey ashes
05-28-12, 05:48 PM
Name: Barden Holly.
Age: 38.
Race: Human.
Hair Color: Dark brown.
Eye Color: Hazel.
Height: 6'6"
Weight: 250 lbs.
Occupation: Sellsword
Personality
Gruff, blunt, and with the propensity to become garishly rude toward anyone he is not currently serving (or any other especial person), is it sufficient to say Holly has never been one to call another "friend" in the truest sense of the word, though he does indeed have plenty who would like to see him in the ground. First and foremost, he looks out for himself, and though there is some honour in him, and a loyal, virtuous streak, it is hard-won. The moral code he abides by appears to be twisted. He is generally quiet, not one to start idle conversation -- indeed, hardly saying a word to anybody in most cases. However, when drunk, his ability to keep his thoughts to himself does tend to disintegrate. Many think him slow, and while it is true he is not a great conversationalist, nor vastly literate, he is not unintelligent, merely educated more extensively in other subjects. Bitter and an undying cynic, bloodshed by his own steel is one of the few things in existence which would give him pleasure -- or so he would like those around him to believe. Certainly, he has no fear of death, nor of any other man. Neither religion nor superstition hold sway over him, and as a rule he holds magic-users in contempt.
Appearance
Holly looms over most, and knows this well. Sinewy muscle is shaped for the prolonged wearing of heavy armor and the deft wielding of great swords, rather than anything like speed and nimble agility. His frame is athletic and wide enough, and for this, although he may cast a hulking shadow, his movements are not without a certain grace. His posture is straight, and though it is not proud, it is profoundly confident.
Although the intimidating physique of the sellsword exudes strength, it has a certain, coarsely hewn quality about it -- power earned and maintained through necessity.
Lank, greasy hair the colour of wet clay riverbanks hangs to his shoulders, balding slightly atop and shot through with grey at the temples. He never bothers to do anything with it -- including keeping it clean. His haggard, stony features bear strength, but cannot be said to be particularly attractive. The skin of his face is severely weather-beaten, and marked in turn with a heavy black tattoo on his right cheek, tracing to his ear -- a thick, simple line, no further ornamentation. Other tattoos of sickly green and black adorn his scarred flesh, creeping beneath his collar and swirling faintly along his toned arms, the pigment so faded it is near impossible to tell what once they were. His large nose, badly broken long ago, now badly healed, perches above a rough beard trimmed only enough to keep it close, with little heed given to evenness. He is missing a goodly chunk of upper lip in one corner, so even when his mouth turns upward from it's usual dour scowl, it still seems a snarl. His eyes are sunken deep, starkly unreadable and surrounded by shadow. The smoky green-brown is as dark as ebony at times, drinking in all light; the whites are often bloodshot and dull, but can brighten vividly when his temper is aroused. When not in armour, Holly tends to don simple attire, such as a plain grey tunic and well-fitted brown pants, with an assortment of belts to keep his blades and pouches at hand. He owns but one pair of tall, thick black leather boots which have tasted their fair share of road. His cloak is mottled dark grey with patched hide over the shoulders and hem.
Skills
Swordsmanship
As someone who has had to rely on his skill with a blade since the age of ten, and whose life has since revolved around such, Holly is masterful with them...his specialty of course laying with longswords of the claymore type. While he is handy with any blade, he is no assassin and prefers to face opponents in brute combat. He moves fluidly and savagely, his imposing stature an advantage in and of itself, but it should be noted his prowess falls within the exploitation of sheer physical force, not so much quickness. Presently, he has no defense against attacks of a magical nature.
Horsemanship
The sellsword has a fondness for equines, and when a destrier large enough to accommodate his weight can be found -- such as his current mount -- he rides in a balanced and proficient manner. He spent some time in his youth making the circuit of jousting tourneys in the north, at which he was modestly successful -- although it has been a while since he has touched a lance.
Abilities
Strength
This does not absurdly cross the limits of any common human male in peak athletic ability. The strength he possesses allows him to handle a heavy blade and move without fatigue beneath layers of chain mail and steel when required of him. Can be referenced as 2x that above average.
Endurance of pain
Through willpower alone, Holly can continue fighting whilst enduring pain that might incapacitate lesser men, if only for a time.
Knowledge of Healing
He wouldn't have survived this long without a workable sense of herbs, salves, and first aid. His skill in this area can be rightly labeled as proficient.
Equipment of Note & Battle Attire
Wolf
A fierce, solid blood-bay stallion 5 years of age and 17.2 hands at the withers, this courser was hand-picked as a weanling by Holly, and has become as close to a partner as the sellsword has had in some time. The magnificently temperamental animal has the typical Baroque build sought after in war horses; heavy of bone, stout of leg, and thickly muscled with a wide, arching neck. He is always well looked-after. Tack includes a solid-treed leather saddle, bridle, and a black caparison.
Also included among his possessions:
- A double-edged steel longsword of average make, replacing the one which was taken from him. It is about seven pounds in weight and around a meter long from pommel to tip. The grip has been wrapped in strips of dyed navy hide, and it rests in place slung over his shoulder by a wide leather belt across his chest.
- A nondescript steel short sword hung by his side in a plain scabbard.
- A thigh-length plaited steel hauberk and skirt, dulled by age and use but kept in good repair.
- One nicked and dented round oaken shield.
- A dark leather brigandine, worn in conjunction with a partial leather chest plate bearing the mark of a raven in flight, gorget, plated leather gloves, steel vambraces extending up the forearms, and steel shoulder and calf plates.
- A black surcoat featuring the more modern design of shortening in front while maintaining some length in the back.
History
*Author's note: I would rather tell this through roleplay, if that is permissible...there's still a lot I'm figuring out about the guy. Barest bones...well, he was once a knight, but has been forced to flee from his realm for horrible deeds committed against the ruling family.
Age: 38.
Race: Human.
Hair Color: Dark brown.
Eye Color: Hazel.
Height: 6'6"
Weight: 250 lbs.
Occupation: Sellsword
Personality
Gruff, blunt, and with the propensity to become garishly rude toward anyone he is not currently serving (or any other especial person), is it sufficient to say Holly has never been one to call another "friend" in the truest sense of the word, though he does indeed have plenty who would like to see him in the ground. First and foremost, he looks out for himself, and though there is some honour in him, and a loyal, virtuous streak, it is hard-won. The moral code he abides by appears to be twisted. He is generally quiet, not one to start idle conversation -- indeed, hardly saying a word to anybody in most cases. However, when drunk, his ability to keep his thoughts to himself does tend to disintegrate. Many think him slow, and while it is true he is not a great conversationalist, nor vastly literate, he is not unintelligent, merely educated more extensively in other subjects. Bitter and an undying cynic, bloodshed by his own steel is one of the few things in existence which would give him pleasure -- or so he would like those around him to believe. Certainly, he has no fear of death, nor of any other man. Neither religion nor superstition hold sway over him, and as a rule he holds magic-users in contempt.
Appearance
Holly looms over most, and knows this well. Sinewy muscle is shaped for the prolonged wearing of heavy armor and the deft wielding of great swords, rather than anything like speed and nimble agility. His frame is athletic and wide enough, and for this, although he may cast a hulking shadow, his movements are not without a certain grace. His posture is straight, and though it is not proud, it is profoundly confident.
Although the intimidating physique of the sellsword exudes strength, it has a certain, coarsely hewn quality about it -- power earned and maintained through necessity.
Lank, greasy hair the colour of wet clay riverbanks hangs to his shoulders, balding slightly atop and shot through with grey at the temples. He never bothers to do anything with it -- including keeping it clean. His haggard, stony features bear strength, but cannot be said to be particularly attractive. The skin of his face is severely weather-beaten, and marked in turn with a heavy black tattoo on his right cheek, tracing to his ear -- a thick, simple line, no further ornamentation. Other tattoos of sickly green and black adorn his scarred flesh, creeping beneath his collar and swirling faintly along his toned arms, the pigment so faded it is near impossible to tell what once they were. His large nose, badly broken long ago, now badly healed, perches above a rough beard trimmed only enough to keep it close, with little heed given to evenness. He is missing a goodly chunk of upper lip in one corner, so even when his mouth turns upward from it's usual dour scowl, it still seems a snarl. His eyes are sunken deep, starkly unreadable and surrounded by shadow. The smoky green-brown is as dark as ebony at times, drinking in all light; the whites are often bloodshot and dull, but can brighten vividly when his temper is aroused. When not in armour, Holly tends to don simple attire, such as a plain grey tunic and well-fitted brown pants, with an assortment of belts to keep his blades and pouches at hand. He owns but one pair of tall, thick black leather boots which have tasted their fair share of road. His cloak is mottled dark grey with patched hide over the shoulders and hem.
Skills
Swordsmanship
As someone who has had to rely on his skill with a blade since the age of ten, and whose life has since revolved around such, Holly is masterful with them...his specialty of course laying with longswords of the claymore type. While he is handy with any blade, he is no assassin and prefers to face opponents in brute combat. He moves fluidly and savagely, his imposing stature an advantage in and of itself, but it should be noted his prowess falls within the exploitation of sheer physical force, not so much quickness. Presently, he has no defense against attacks of a magical nature.
Horsemanship
The sellsword has a fondness for equines, and when a destrier large enough to accommodate his weight can be found -- such as his current mount -- he rides in a balanced and proficient manner. He spent some time in his youth making the circuit of jousting tourneys in the north, at which he was modestly successful -- although it has been a while since he has touched a lance.
Abilities
Strength
This does not absurdly cross the limits of any common human male in peak athletic ability. The strength he possesses allows him to handle a heavy blade and move without fatigue beneath layers of chain mail and steel when required of him. Can be referenced as 2x that above average.
Endurance of pain
Through willpower alone, Holly can continue fighting whilst enduring pain that might incapacitate lesser men, if only for a time.
Knowledge of Healing
He wouldn't have survived this long without a workable sense of herbs, salves, and first aid. His skill in this area can be rightly labeled as proficient.
Equipment of Note & Battle Attire
Wolf
A fierce, solid blood-bay stallion 5 years of age and 17.2 hands at the withers, this courser was hand-picked as a weanling by Holly, and has become as close to a partner as the sellsword has had in some time. The magnificently temperamental animal has the typical Baroque build sought after in war horses; heavy of bone, stout of leg, and thickly muscled with a wide, arching neck. He is always well looked-after. Tack includes a solid-treed leather saddle, bridle, and a black caparison.
Also included among his possessions:
- A double-edged steel longsword of average make, replacing the one which was taken from him. It is about seven pounds in weight and around a meter long from pommel to tip. The grip has been wrapped in strips of dyed navy hide, and it rests in place slung over his shoulder by a wide leather belt across his chest.
- A nondescript steel short sword hung by his side in a plain scabbard.
- A thigh-length plaited steel hauberk and skirt, dulled by age and use but kept in good repair.
- One nicked and dented round oaken shield.
- A dark leather brigandine, worn in conjunction with a partial leather chest plate bearing the mark of a raven in flight, gorget, plated leather gloves, steel vambraces extending up the forearms, and steel shoulder and calf plates.
- A black surcoat featuring the more modern design of shortening in front while maintaining some length in the back.
History
*Author's note: I would rather tell this through roleplay, if that is permissible...there's still a lot I'm figuring out about the guy. Barest bones...well, he was once a knight, but has been forced to flee from his realm for horrible deeds committed against the ruling family.