Post by Temanin on Apr 13, 2004 17:10:33 GMT -5
Name: Rhodry
Age: 18
Height: 6”2
Hair: halflong blond hair, hanging down just over his eyes, always puffs it away while nocking an arrow
Eyes: Blue, and keen as a birds
Weight: 80kg
Talents: Very good with the bow, can herd sheep, can play the flute, is still sober when all other patrons are drunk(he isnt a alcoholist, but he can drink like Zeus).
Weaknesses: Ingrown toe-nail on his left foot, can’t herd cows, bad at striking weapons(swords, spears, quarterstaffs), not popular with the girls due to his ugly sheep-herders clothes(he isn’t ugly mind, he just doesn’t have the money to buy pretty clothes or go to the barber).
Background:
Rhodry grew up in a little village just north off Baerleon. As a simple sheep-herder he lived a boring live. Underwhile whatching the sheep he often plays the flute, or practices with his self-made longbow. In his spare time Rhodry loves to go out to Baerleon to drink a beer(or 10) in one off its many taverns or inns. Due to his sleek hair and baggy clothes the girls don’t notice him. The vast majority off girls in Baerleon don’t look at the man himself, but at his belt-pouch in Rhodrys opinion. One day Rhodry woke up with the worst hangover he ever had. He stumbled towards the door, opened it, and looked upon chaos. The whole living room was littered with cut-up furniture. Panic overwhelmed him. “Mom! Dad!” he shouted, but he didn’t got any response. He ran to the shed as fast as he could(his head still felt like it was going to explode). Rhodry opened the door. He didn’t knew what to expect, but it wasn’t this. There was nothing in the shed. Not 1 single sheep was left off the 250 he brought in the day before. The panic grew and grew. “MOM! DAD!”. Still no answer. Rhodry ran outside again, turned left at the well and suddenly stopped in his tracks. He didn’t check the windmill! His folks where always there in the early morning hours to make bread(which is btw known throughout the whole off Baerleon and surrounding villages). He ran towards the mill and soon made out 2 figures leaning against the wall. He reckognised his fathers high, green boots and his mothers yellow apron. Relief pushed away panic. But the closer he got, the more his doubtrs grew. Why werent they waving? Why didn’t they shout something? The reason became clear soon enough. Both his folks where pinned down by a wooden stake. Earlier relief pushed away panic, now panic came back and flooded relief out. Then something new came from the deepest off his soul, he didn’t reckognize it, but it kept on getting bigger thill it replaced the panic. He never felt it before, but he liked it. If someone could see him standing there he’d see a face consorted by rage. Not 1 tear he shed while burrying his parents. The feeling was still there, stronger then it was before, but it was not shown on his face anymore. In the long years that would follow no laugh was ever to be seen on it again either. He locked the anger away in the back off his mind, where it was locked for a long time sparkling as a constant reminder off what happened that faithfull morning. Rhodry scanned the ground and found what he was looking for. Boot-prints in the soft earth, surrounded by the small hoove-prints off sheep. He grabbed his longbow and swung a full quiver on his shoulder. Rhodry started the pursuit….
