Wolves of the Sea - a mythic Viking era game (closed)

[Kuroneko]

Now all I can hear in my head is, Vikings and beekeepers Vikings and beekeepers Vikings and beekeepers Vikings and beekeepers to the sound of Wagner, ala Bugs Bunny, lol...

[RedPhoenix]

I love you guys

[Swashbuckler]

Now all I can think of is...

[Deamonbane]

Poor waiter

[Cold Heritage]

Kal is finished, although definitely open to any connections near and far. :)

Alrighty! Post him up in the accepted characters thread and discuss connections in the OOC.

[TinCanTalos]

Alright, Fin's character sheet is finished. Hopefully he makes it through the vetting process.

Fin the Bard

Name: Finlaith Beag O'Lugh
Epithet: Long Fingered Fin
Role: Skald and Scout
Place of Birth: The Banks of the Lough Gur, Ireland
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Appearance Standing at 5'4” with a particularly lithe frame and skin that almost mirrors the snow of his new icy homeland, Finlaith Beag O'Lugh is possibly one of the least physically imposing, yet still somewhat unnerving, members of the Hird. Separating the shoulder length hair of a highly faded blonde from the unnaturally pale skin of his face typically rests a tall bronze circlet rendered in Celtic knots, the warm metal contrasting starkly against its cold backdrop. His face is made up of smooth and fairly soft features with a set of thin pale lips usually resting in a neutral expression below sunken amber eyes with what is typically a half open and seem to portray a constant disinterest with his surroundings. What had once been flawless skin is marred by a series of scars collected from horrendous treatment during his tenure as a servant in the forced service of  Thegn Geirbrandr Blood-Shirt.

In traveling and scouting, Fin typically adorns himself in a black tunic beneath a long white woolen cloak beneath typically white furs above a pair of loose fitting cloth trousers. At his waist a brown leather sheath holds a rarely drawn Irish scian dagger. Strung across his back on his travels are a small quiver of a steel tipped arrows, a short bow, and light toned spruce lyre with copper strings.

History:
It was always a matter of some difficulty for young Finlaith to take as fact the word of his father, the transient story teller and self proclaimed bard Cowan O'Heffernan, especially in regards to Finlaith's mother. Cowan had an uncontrollable compulsion to sensationalize the smallest of detail from its lowly position in the world of the mundane to the lofty heights of celestial merit. While this made him well regarded in the field of singing ones praises or tearing down the reputation of another, it also had the unfortunate effect of making him a poor source of straightforward information. From the earliest years of childhood to the threshold of adulthood all Finlaith could pull from his father was the assured exaggeration that was, “No fairer woman has there been than your mother, for such transcendent a presence is not within reach of those outside of the Tuatha Dé Danann, and among them even the most peerless of the divine kind shrink at the splendor emanating from those of Lugh's clan.”

While Cowan's tenuous relationship with the truth often irritated young Finlaith, he would be a liar to say that he didn't delight most of the time spent in his father's company. Between utterly enthralling stories of the land's ancient gods and music that could bring a man from spirited dance to wailing sadness in a matter of measures, young Fin rarely allowed for the hollowed stomach that often came with being a wandering minstrel's apprentice from keeping him of good cheer. Even as the pair was dogged by those attempting to clamp down on the noble tradition of the wayfaring bard, even as cold wet wind buffeted his small frame , even as his father continuously pocketed and frittered away the coins that were far more often than not intended for Finlaithe, there was little that could dampen the young musician's elan before the Norsemen came to the shores of his homeland.

Whether it was the sight of his father fleeing into the distance as the Norse raiders drug the now adult Finlaith back to their ship with a host of other prisoners, or any number of cruelties he experienced in the following years of servitude to the dread whims of Thegn Geirbrandr Blood-Shirt that broke Finlaith's vivacious spirit and boundless optimism,  it was uncertain to the young aspiring bard. What was known to Finlaith was that in the company of such misery, the only music he managed to muster through voice and harp were mournful and eerie dirges that forcefully wrenched tears and wails of despair from even the most strongest willed of individuals in the company of the Blood-Shirt. Permitted to keep his hands, tongue, and life only that the Blood-Shirt might show off the young musician's soul hollowing cries as an exotic curiosity to those visiting his demesne, there were few occasions in a day in which Finlaith found himself without gag or bind.

Worse than the coldest winter night or the most painful assault against him was the soulless uniformity of his existence in chains. Every day his sight was blocked by the same walls of unchanging wood and stone. His ears took in foreign words that Finlaith was quick enough to learn, but that failed to vary from what felt to be an increasingly mundane savagery. Worse still, his own efforts at escaping his situation through creation was marred by the ever foul taste of the cloth placed against his tongue and the never dulling sting of pain and anxiety that radiated from the iron shackles laying ceaselessly cold against his wrists. Even the sight of other prisoners coming from horrendous stories before vanishing into harrowing ends ceased to evoke emotion in the aspiring bard as their arrival and departure became as commonplace as the tide lapping against the shore.

This malaise of inspiration seemed unbreakable as the days went by to the point that Finlaith barely acknowledged the twice heard caw of a crow, and the escape of the witch known as Völva. However it was the direct result of this event that rekindled the thirst for life within the long bound musician. It was as a colossal warrior waded through the camp of the Blood-Shirt with what Fin had previously thought to be an unreachable fury that the dormant story teller within the displaced bard awoke. The beast he was witnessing must surely have been a figure comparable to the likes of Fionn mac Cumhaill, a man whose story would inspire all who heard it as the sight of it inspired Finlaith in that moment. While utterly terrified that his neck might be instantly relieved  of his head's weight should Torstein find him in the midst of his wrath, Finlaith did not hesitate to follow him back to his holdings, introduce himself, and swear himself to the Hird's service should it please.

Personality:
Despite the vast range of emotion and theatricality Finlaith pours into every performance regardless of venue or prestige associated with his audience, he has a tendency to display what many unfamiliar with the bard might take as a palpably strong disinterest in anything except his artistry due to the often passive seeming expression dominating his out of stage presented countenance. In reality Finlaith has an unquenchable curiosity regarding the world around him, especially when it comes to the various fascinating characters that cross his path and the possible myriad stories they might uniquely bear. While there are those that might doubt the minstrel's capacity for powerful bonds due to their being based in what Fin views as theater, Fin will give his all to insure that those who rouse his passions through heroic deeds are, to the best of his abilities, allowed to flourish to their utmost during their shared time with the bard.

Connections:
Torstein Torbjørnsen: From the very moment Finlaith laid eyes upon Torstein Torbjørnsen in his rampage through the warriors of Geirbrandr Blood-Shirt, Fin gained a immense fear and respect towards the colossal warrior that has not ceased to this day. Having unintentionally granted Finlaith his freedom, Torstein placed a debt upon the young man that Finlaith doubts any amount of service or dedication will ever be able to repay.

Völva of the Hird: Upon regaining his presence of mind and taking his place among the Hird, Finlaith has grown to feel a great shame in regards to his inability to provide even a shred of aid or comfort to Völva during her imprisonment and treatment at the hands of the Blood-Shirt. While this in no way hampers his ability to serve at her whim should she require it, there is no mistaking Finlaith's inability to meet Völva's gaze or his unintentionally curt yet polite replies to her requests of him.


Family of Note:
Cowan O'Heffernan: Finlaith's father and the self-proclaimed last true bard of Ireland. Refuting the requirement for bard's to cease their traveling ways in exchange for permanent residence with a lord or chief as an attempt at stamping out Ireland's history, Cowan continues to scratch out a living playing his music for taverns before fleeing local authorities through swift horsemanship, skillful deception, and deft archery.

Ebliu: The daughter of Lugh and rival of her father in the art of musical composing and performance. Having divorced her immortal husband for his having abandoned her during the deluge and transforming into a salmon, Ebliu was briefly infatuated with roguish nature and clever tongue of Cowan O'Heffernan on a Samhain 24 years prior to the start of our story.

Extra Information:
-Finlaith's divine blood affords him the uncanny ability to learn and recall local customs, especially involving music, with ease. With only a day of immersing himself in a new type of music, he is able to replicate it, and in the following days, meld it with the remainder of his repertoire. Given a long enough familiarity with an instrument he is able to, almost without fail, invoke extreme emotional states in the minds of his listeners as the echoes of his voice and instrument carry with them a faint chorus of unseen musicians and the listener's own memories falling harmoniously into the composition.

-While Finlaith's watered down divinity extends him no further supernatural abilities outside of his musical prowess, he was taught to be a fairly skilled archer, and has since been further honed by training alongside the Hird.

-Fin feels a great deal of pain and dread wash over him whenever iron comes directly into contact with his skin. As a result of this all of the metallic fixtures on his clothes tend to be of bronze or copper.


Sexual Ons: Dominant and aggressive partners, receiving pain contrasted with tenderness, the pageantry of a romance. Fin is largely willing to try most things at least once for the rush that novelty brings.   
Sexual Offs: Any type of restraint, bathroom play, vore, gore.

[Swashbuckler]

Ok, I have totally failed in my attempt to rewrite much more than a slight modification (plus finding a pic with no golden hand), so I am going to stick with Dagfinn "as is"

And here he is:

Dagfinn the Glib

Name: Dagfinn
Epithet: The Glib, the Golden
Role: Huscarl / Skald
Place of Birth: Scandinavia
Age: 30ish?
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

History: Dagfinn is a well known name from across Scandinavia, and has been spoken of as a Teller of Tales for far longer than the man you see before you could possible have been alive and travelling, leading most to believe that it might be more of a title than an actual name, there having been a few Dagfinn’s over the years.  If pressed, the current will declare that is the one and only of course.

The stories of Dagfinn range far and wide, but always account for him travelling with the boldest and bravest of warriors, recording and telling the tales of their exploits, so it is no surprise that Dagfinn has joined Torstein’s hird.   In the time he has been amongst the Hird, Dagfinn's intelligence and wit have given him to rise in the ranks, becoming a trusted member of Torstein's inner circle.

Personality: Dagfinn’s epithet is perfectly placed upon him, and he is indeed quick and nimble of tongue, if not always the most sincere.  It is after all, the job of the skald to take the truth and...polish it up a bit.  Gregarious and outgoing, Dagfinn is comfortable in the highest or the roughest of company, usually having something to share with anyone. 

On thing of note, is that there is little fear in the heart of Dagfinn, and he appears to be exceptionally lucky.  Rather skilled with a sword and decently knowledgeable in tactics, Dagfinn enters battle quite willing, although with none of the ferocity of the berserker, after all he can hardly tell tales of acts of heroism he failed to witness, things just seem to go his way.  Arrows miss their mark (or hit other men), swords and axes swing wide, etc etc.

This luck has lead to rumors that Dagfinn is touched by the gods.  WHICH god is up for debate, as friends of Dagfinn say is must be Frigg or even Baldur, while most others believe it to be Loki.

Connections: Looking for all!

Family of Note: For all his renown, nearly as much as he assumes, there is no “family of Dagfinn”, and he tends to only speak of others, not his own past.

Extra Information:

Dagfinn is indeed touched with the God's own luck (but Gods are fickle things, so who knows how long this will last?), and wears no armor when he enters battle, putting much trust in this.



Sexual Ons: Same as Player.
Sexual Offs: Same as Player.

[Kuroneko]

Yay! I <3 Dagfinn.

[Cold Heritage]

I got back to you in PM Swashbuckler but to reiterate Dagfinn 2.0 is good to go!

TinCanTalos: Fin of Melnibone is approved! Please go post up in the approved thread good sir!

[Deamonbane]

Kal is wrapped up, although still looking for connections, including but not limited to a captain that wants him as a helmsman.

[Juggtacular]

Kal is wrapped up, although still looking for connections, including but not limited to a captain that wants him as a helmsman.

Does he want to helm the Grey Hawk?

[bubby]

I'll have Ulf tag with Kal on whatever ship he's on if that is ok?

[Deamonbane]

Helming the ship that carries the boldest first to battle, all while giving them some cover fire? Hell the fuck yeah!

Edit: AND having Ulf in the mix with him too? Hell the fuck yeah 2x!

[Cold Heritage]

We have an OOC thread please type out your connections there so we aren't unfairly knocking out other interest threads please. :)

https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=320939.0

[Cold Heritage]

It's been a crazy month. We've had our first raid and our first sad player departures. Hopefully there are more writers with bold characters out there who want to sail the waves and earn fame and reputation with us!