Ryddrgard
03-26-16, 11:03 PM
Name: Sieghart Vergild
Age: 17
Race: Human [Divine Spark]
Occupation: Squire
Appearance: 5'10", 175 lbs. Most notable of the squire's physical traits are likely his eyes -- bright peridot green and full of vibrance. Dark auburn hair hangs long and straight past his shoulders, tied loosely below his neck and framing his face with a few stray tresses. Clean shaven and youthful, he is beginning to manifest the handsome features of a man nonetheless: a square, sharply defined jawline, an even brow, a straight nose, and high cheek bones. Sieghart has the build of a young athlete, lithely built yet already possessed of a respectable physique. While he has yet to grow into his shoulders (as many young men his age), it is obvious that should he continue his labors and put forth the effort he will be quite powerfully built -- even at his less-than-imposing height.
Typically Sieghart is garbed in traditional attire for his role as a squire: a plain gambeson and an undyed linen tunic with dark brown trousers, all layered beneath a half-sleeved iron chainmail hauberk. Over this would be the white tabard which bore the gray heraldry of his liege -- a simple coat of arms with a wolf's head emblazoned upon a kite shield. A swordsman's double belt wound wind about the youth's narrow waist and hips and support the scabbard of a short steel sword. Both his gauntlets and his boots would be soft, worn leather, reinforced with three iron splints for added armor. Over his shoulder would hang the single strap of his sturdy oaken shield, unadorned and unassuming.
Personality: Extroverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Judging. Sieghart is confident in himself and his beliefs, passionate in his interests and pursuits, and tenaciously loyal. He has a natural charisma and a deep-rooted, genuine desire to serve and help others. An unflinching sense of "right" and "wrong" combined with humility and empathy make Sieghart a reliable person and an ideal companion.
At times his loyalty and confidence may translate into obstinance and unintended arrogance. While criticisms more often than not are deflected by his calm self-assured nature, harsh words from those few whose opinions he values can lead him to self-doubt -- a crippling affliction for someone with his personality. While what anger he experiences rarely ventures outside of his control, blatant injustice - especially toward the defenseless - can drive him to brash, reckless action.
Skills:
- Knight Life: Due to the nature of Sieghart's life and profession he is well learned in an array of practical studies: swordsmanship; spearmanship; horsemanship; the donning and maintenance of arms and armor; navigation and wilderness survival; and small unit battlefield tactics.
- Unorthodox Study: Sieghart serves a knight who comes from noble stock and, as such, received a formal education -- and is hell-bent on his squire doing the same. It is uncommon for a visit to any meaningful city to not entail the purchase of books (that Sieghart will inevitable be obligated to both read from and lug about). Language, history, philosophy, natural and mathematical sciences, religion, and even music are all subjects in which Sieghart receives instruction.
Abilities:
- Dormant Favor: Sieghart is the recipient of the last iota of Aasa's divine essence, the slain goddess having formed a symbiotic relationship with him. As of yet unbeknownst to him he is both a chosen servant and a necessary vessel while she regains her strength. Since the trauma of Aasa's defeat was so severe she is yet to possess the strength to provide Sieghart with any of her power; however, as time passes and they both grow she will eventually bestow upon him the blessings due her champion.
Equipment & Accessories:
- Hooded Tunic [Linen]
- Pants [Cotton / Wool]
- Tabard [Linen]
- Swordsman's double belt [Leather]
- Short Sword [Steel]
- Scabbard [Leather]
- Heavy Round Shield [Oak; Iron Boss]
- Gauntlets [Leather; Iron Splints]
- Boots [Leather; Iron Splints]
- Chainmail Hauberk
- Standard (Spear with attached penant) [Hickory; Iron Tip]
History:
Let me tell you something, son -- the whole pantheon is a lie. There are but two gods; and those two gods are the only gods who have ever existed and ever will exist: Life and Death.
You see, Life and Death are twins, sister and brother. And, way back in the beginning, when all was quiet and empty, Life and Death made merry and kept one another company -- and were wholly content in doing so amidst the sea of the void. You see, being all that is gentle, loving, humble, and kind, Life submitted to her brother; and he, being all that is cold, aloof, empty, and void relished their shared existence in his preferred state: nothingness.
The spirit of Life, however, could not be quenched. Even as humble and meek as she was, and even as much as she loved her brother and adored his happiness, she could not stave off the clutches of boredom and of loneliness but for so many eternities. The weight of who she was dimmed her light and quieted her song -- so much so that over time even Death, as cool and callous as he was, took notice. This burdened Death's heart, as hardened and frigid as it was, for he loved his sister even more than he loved darkness, emptiness, and silence. And so he thought.
Life? Well, she was impulsive -- a doer. Death, however... well, Death is a thinker, a planner. And so for nine eternities the darker of the twins thought, contemplating how it was he could bring back the light and joy he so cherished in his sister's eyes. For nine eternities he focused, drawing into himself, considering every choice that could ever be made; and for nine eternities Life's light grew more and more dim. Finally, unable to bear the change he saw in his beloved sister any longer, Death carved a whole into the void and wrapped himself in nothingness, banishing himself forever -- for how could his Sister ever be happy again if she could not be true to herself?
Life wept bitter tears when her brother left her, and each of those tears became a star. When the ages had passed and she finally ended her grieving she opened her eyes to a sea of twinling lights. For the first time in all her memory she was overwhelmed -- and by a feeling, a sensation, a [i]thing she had never known: beauty. Consoled by the glittering heavens her grief had crafted she began to will yet more into being: worlds, moons, oceans, mountains, flora and fauna of every imaginable design. She sculpted and painted with the lust only the repressed know, shaping countless universes. And yet, no matter what she made or where she made it, she always included a single stipulation, a singular rule all of her masterwork art must follow:
All things must eventually die.
Such was her monument to her brother, lost forever in his burrow, slumbering in the dark. She missed him so, and after eons of crafting and creating she only began to grow more and more lonely. Fearing her brother would never return to her she set out to craft creatures that could keep her company -- intelligent, sentient things that she could know and could know her.
First were the dragons. Ageless and powerful, cunning and aloof, Life adored them for they reminded her so of Death. They ruled her creation just as she ruled them, wise and potent in all they did. Yet Life still felt lonely.
Second she crafted the fey, strange and mystical, curious and everlasting. They were stewards, servants bound to her creation to tend to it, protect it. Life was vibrant and chaotic and so was her world; yet she knew that living things required a delicate balance that must be persevered. They fey provided such a thing. Even so, Life still felt lonely.
Then she chose to create something different: people. Humans, elves, dwarves, all all their permutations -- tiny, momentary things that came and went in the span of a breath, cycling through beginning and end blindingly fast. They were crude, the little things, yet for some reason they made Life so very happy. Although their time was short they lived so much in that time. In just a few ages they grew to also steward her creation, both taming some and adding chaos elsewhere. Later they grew to rule, their power greater than all but the dragons and the fey.
And then, one day, they named her.
"Aasa" was what the humans called her -- a name, title, and honorific all combined, etched into stone ziggurats and written in holy texts. You see, of all the races Life created, humans were the most brief. And yet, in spite of that brevity - or perhaps because of it - they grew to love Aasa, their creator, far more than any other creature. They risked great peril to learn of her from the dragons and the fey; they toiled and made war to preserve her history; they studied and labored to honor her with palaces and testaments. They even spoke with her the most, praying both corporately and independently, desiring so genuinely to know her and for her to know them.
Still, all of that paled to Life compared to the act of giving her a name -- something she had not had since Death had known her as "Sister."
It was then that Life was finally happy.
Many ages passed. Empires came and went; kingdoms and races vanished and reappeared. Aasa's creation did just as she intended, cycling back and forth, finding struggle and joy in each moment. She was happy. And then, over the span of one short century something strange happened: magic, once exclusive to the dragons and the fey, began to be learned by people. This perplexed Aasa, as she had not crafted her peoples with such an ability -- and while their growth gave her joy, it also unsettled her. You see, dragons were given magic because they were ageless and wise, their patience tempering their might. Fey, as well, were granted the gift of the arcane, made of the very fibers of magic; and yet they were but stewards, bound by archaic and incomprehensible laws and codes that kept their chaotic nature in check. But people? People lived short lives, striving day in and day out, generation to generation to make a difference, to be meaningful. That ambition lead them to forge great kingdoms and create beautiful art; yet that same ambition could prove dangerous should they be given too much power.
While Aasa was vexed, contemplating what she should do, the peoples began to change. Magic, it seemed, corrupted them. Before she realized what was happening humans - the very creatures that had obtained her favor not so long ago - had accrued vast sums of power; and with that power they began to bend and wrench her world. Aasa, overcome with panic and despair, pushed back -- but their power had grown too much in too little time. The goddess was dethroned, her creation slaying their creator in the greatest coup d'état in all eternity. She wept for them even as they murdered her.
Yet hope endured. A single crystalline tear, transporting the smallest fragment of Aasa's essence, fell from the heavens to her world -- and landed upon a human child. The second son of a farmer and his wife, Sieghart was chosen by the fleeting moments of a dying goddess to carry on her legacy; to keep her safe whilst she grew and to pave the way for her return.
This is his story.
------
[As an aside, I do want to make it clear that Sieghart's "origin story" will be written as his first story / stories and will take place an in alternate reality from Althanas. He will be transported to the site's setting, however, and not terribly far in the future. I understand that there are certain gaps - like the identity of the knight he squires for and so forth - but that is intentional, as they are things I wish to build as part of his introductory tale.]
Age: 17
Race: Human [Divine Spark]
Occupation: Squire
Appearance: 5'10", 175 lbs. Most notable of the squire's physical traits are likely his eyes -- bright peridot green and full of vibrance. Dark auburn hair hangs long and straight past his shoulders, tied loosely below his neck and framing his face with a few stray tresses. Clean shaven and youthful, he is beginning to manifest the handsome features of a man nonetheless: a square, sharply defined jawline, an even brow, a straight nose, and high cheek bones. Sieghart has the build of a young athlete, lithely built yet already possessed of a respectable physique. While he has yet to grow into his shoulders (as many young men his age), it is obvious that should he continue his labors and put forth the effort he will be quite powerfully built -- even at his less-than-imposing height.
Typically Sieghart is garbed in traditional attire for his role as a squire: a plain gambeson and an undyed linen tunic with dark brown trousers, all layered beneath a half-sleeved iron chainmail hauberk. Over this would be the white tabard which bore the gray heraldry of his liege -- a simple coat of arms with a wolf's head emblazoned upon a kite shield. A swordsman's double belt wound wind about the youth's narrow waist and hips and support the scabbard of a short steel sword. Both his gauntlets and his boots would be soft, worn leather, reinforced with three iron splints for added armor. Over his shoulder would hang the single strap of his sturdy oaken shield, unadorned and unassuming.
Personality: Extroverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Judging. Sieghart is confident in himself and his beliefs, passionate in his interests and pursuits, and tenaciously loyal. He has a natural charisma and a deep-rooted, genuine desire to serve and help others. An unflinching sense of "right" and "wrong" combined with humility and empathy make Sieghart a reliable person and an ideal companion.
At times his loyalty and confidence may translate into obstinance and unintended arrogance. While criticisms more often than not are deflected by his calm self-assured nature, harsh words from those few whose opinions he values can lead him to self-doubt -- a crippling affliction for someone with his personality. While what anger he experiences rarely ventures outside of his control, blatant injustice - especially toward the defenseless - can drive him to brash, reckless action.
Skills:
- Knight Life: Due to the nature of Sieghart's life and profession he is well learned in an array of practical studies: swordsmanship; spearmanship; horsemanship; the donning and maintenance of arms and armor; navigation and wilderness survival; and small unit battlefield tactics.
- Unorthodox Study: Sieghart serves a knight who comes from noble stock and, as such, received a formal education -- and is hell-bent on his squire doing the same. It is uncommon for a visit to any meaningful city to not entail the purchase of books (that Sieghart will inevitable be obligated to both read from and lug about). Language, history, philosophy, natural and mathematical sciences, religion, and even music are all subjects in which Sieghart receives instruction.
Abilities:
- Dormant Favor: Sieghart is the recipient of the last iota of Aasa's divine essence, the slain goddess having formed a symbiotic relationship with him. As of yet unbeknownst to him he is both a chosen servant and a necessary vessel while she regains her strength. Since the trauma of Aasa's defeat was so severe she is yet to possess the strength to provide Sieghart with any of her power; however, as time passes and they both grow she will eventually bestow upon him the blessings due her champion.
Equipment & Accessories:
- Hooded Tunic [Linen]
- Pants [Cotton / Wool]
- Tabard [Linen]
- Swordsman's double belt [Leather]
- Short Sword [Steel]
- Scabbard [Leather]
- Heavy Round Shield [Oak; Iron Boss]
- Gauntlets [Leather; Iron Splints]
- Boots [Leather; Iron Splints]
- Chainmail Hauberk
- Standard (Spear with attached penant) [Hickory; Iron Tip]
History:
Let me tell you something, son -- the whole pantheon is a lie. There are but two gods; and those two gods are the only gods who have ever existed and ever will exist: Life and Death.
You see, Life and Death are twins, sister and brother. And, way back in the beginning, when all was quiet and empty, Life and Death made merry and kept one another company -- and were wholly content in doing so amidst the sea of the void. You see, being all that is gentle, loving, humble, and kind, Life submitted to her brother; and he, being all that is cold, aloof, empty, and void relished their shared existence in his preferred state: nothingness.
The spirit of Life, however, could not be quenched. Even as humble and meek as she was, and even as much as she loved her brother and adored his happiness, she could not stave off the clutches of boredom and of loneliness but for so many eternities. The weight of who she was dimmed her light and quieted her song -- so much so that over time even Death, as cool and callous as he was, took notice. This burdened Death's heart, as hardened and frigid as it was, for he loved his sister even more than he loved darkness, emptiness, and silence. And so he thought.
Life? Well, she was impulsive -- a doer. Death, however... well, Death is a thinker, a planner. And so for nine eternities the darker of the twins thought, contemplating how it was he could bring back the light and joy he so cherished in his sister's eyes. For nine eternities he focused, drawing into himself, considering every choice that could ever be made; and for nine eternities Life's light grew more and more dim. Finally, unable to bear the change he saw in his beloved sister any longer, Death carved a whole into the void and wrapped himself in nothingness, banishing himself forever -- for how could his Sister ever be happy again if she could not be true to herself?
Life wept bitter tears when her brother left her, and each of those tears became a star. When the ages had passed and she finally ended her grieving she opened her eyes to a sea of twinling lights. For the first time in all her memory she was overwhelmed -- and by a feeling, a sensation, a [i]thing she had never known: beauty. Consoled by the glittering heavens her grief had crafted she began to will yet more into being: worlds, moons, oceans, mountains, flora and fauna of every imaginable design. She sculpted and painted with the lust only the repressed know, shaping countless universes. And yet, no matter what she made or where she made it, she always included a single stipulation, a singular rule all of her masterwork art must follow:
All things must eventually die.
Such was her monument to her brother, lost forever in his burrow, slumbering in the dark. She missed him so, and after eons of crafting and creating she only began to grow more and more lonely. Fearing her brother would never return to her she set out to craft creatures that could keep her company -- intelligent, sentient things that she could know and could know her.
First were the dragons. Ageless and powerful, cunning and aloof, Life adored them for they reminded her so of Death. They ruled her creation just as she ruled them, wise and potent in all they did. Yet Life still felt lonely.
Second she crafted the fey, strange and mystical, curious and everlasting. They were stewards, servants bound to her creation to tend to it, protect it. Life was vibrant and chaotic and so was her world; yet she knew that living things required a delicate balance that must be persevered. They fey provided such a thing. Even so, Life still felt lonely.
Then she chose to create something different: people. Humans, elves, dwarves, all all their permutations -- tiny, momentary things that came and went in the span of a breath, cycling through beginning and end blindingly fast. They were crude, the little things, yet for some reason they made Life so very happy. Although their time was short they lived so much in that time. In just a few ages they grew to also steward her creation, both taming some and adding chaos elsewhere. Later they grew to rule, their power greater than all but the dragons and the fey.
And then, one day, they named her.
"Aasa" was what the humans called her -- a name, title, and honorific all combined, etched into stone ziggurats and written in holy texts. You see, of all the races Life created, humans were the most brief. And yet, in spite of that brevity - or perhaps because of it - they grew to love Aasa, their creator, far more than any other creature. They risked great peril to learn of her from the dragons and the fey; they toiled and made war to preserve her history; they studied and labored to honor her with palaces and testaments. They even spoke with her the most, praying both corporately and independently, desiring so genuinely to know her and for her to know them.
Still, all of that paled to Life compared to the act of giving her a name -- something she had not had since Death had known her as "Sister."
It was then that Life was finally happy.
Many ages passed. Empires came and went; kingdoms and races vanished and reappeared. Aasa's creation did just as she intended, cycling back and forth, finding struggle and joy in each moment. She was happy. And then, over the span of one short century something strange happened: magic, once exclusive to the dragons and the fey, began to be learned by people. This perplexed Aasa, as she had not crafted her peoples with such an ability -- and while their growth gave her joy, it also unsettled her. You see, dragons were given magic because they were ageless and wise, their patience tempering their might. Fey, as well, were granted the gift of the arcane, made of the very fibers of magic; and yet they were but stewards, bound by archaic and incomprehensible laws and codes that kept their chaotic nature in check. But people? People lived short lives, striving day in and day out, generation to generation to make a difference, to be meaningful. That ambition lead them to forge great kingdoms and create beautiful art; yet that same ambition could prove dangerous should they be given too much power.
While Aasa was vexed, contemplating what she should do, the peoples began to change. Magic, it seemed, corrupted them. Before she realized what was happening humans - the very creatures that had obtained her favor not so long ago - had accrued vast sums of power; and with that power they began to bend and wrench her world. Aasa, overcome with panic and despair, pushed back -- but their power had grown too much in too little time. The goddess was dethroned, her creation slaying their creator in the greatest coup d'état in all eternity. She wept for them even as they murdered her.
Yet hope endured. A single crystalline tear, transporting the smallest fragment of Aasa's essence, fell from the heavens to her world -- and landed upon a human child. The second son of a farmer and his wife, Sieghart was chosen by the fleeting moments of a dying goddess to carry on her legacy; to keep her safe whilst she grew and to pave the way for her return.
This is his story.
------
[As an aside, I do want to make it clear that Sieghart's "origin story" will be written as his first story / stories and will take place an in alternate reality from Althanas. He will be transported to the site's setting, however, and not terribly far in the future. I understand that there are certain gaps - like the identity of the knight he squires for and so forth - but that is intentional, as they are things I wish to build as part of his introductory tale.]