wattj
09-16-2003, 06:14 PM
Arick DeLinne, Embitterred warrior (action hero)
Every boy is bound to see his father as the epitome of masculine virtue, but Arick's father really was: Sir Thern DeLinne, A knight. The pinnacle of honor, the lynchpin of security which holds society against the forces of chaos and foreign enemies. No boy with a single spark of virtuous humility in his soul would aspire any higher.
Arick, named so for his belated great uncle, once another mighty Knight of the realm, lived his life with every intention of becoming a Knight as well. As soon as he was eight years old, he became a page in the court of Sir Thirial, along with his cousin, named after the same uncle. The two were fast friends, and with enough in common in their features that people often thought little of calling them both by the same name. Within a couple of years, however, they were called after their father's professions, as each showed great promise even at a young age in following them. Arick Otrand was called 'Little count', and Arick DeLinne was referred to as 'knightling'.
And so, when Arick's younger brother arrived to join them in their training, he was quickly given the nickname of 'second son'. Even as a boy of 11, the knightling Arick had shown his remarkable talent with arms, and his devotion to knightly virtues, such as he perceived them. Brother Daven, while he strove to be everything his elder brother was, could never hope to compete as a fighter. Of course, his view of 'knightly virtues' included many of the things at which the Little Count excelled. Arick could never be bothered to learn letters, or courtly matters. Daven mastered blade and pen alike, but could never escape from his brother's shadow.
When Arick became a squire, he lorded his status over his younger brother further, but then, perhaps even worse for the younger one, he grew tired of teasing, grew too old and too wise to hound his sibling, but not wise enough to mend the wounds already made.
--
When the knightling and his cousin were not quite twenty winters aged, and near time to become knights, war came to their land. Arick DeLinne wished to become a knight and join the effort immediately, but skilled though he was, his tutors nor his leige considered him quite ready to be knighted. Rather than wait for the opportune time, Arick simply joined the professional army, parleying his family's status, his training, and his obvious gifts into a commission as a field captain.
This is when things started to change.
Captain Arick was not bad at his duties. Indeed, he had a gift for fighting, which, while it didn't always translate into tactical brilliance, inspired his men to heights they thought themselves incapable of reaching. When he saw battle, he saw death. Much of it at his own hand. But some would always strike his men as well. The War-dukes saw him as a unique asset. At the cost of somewhat high casualties, Arick seemed able to win battles others would lose. This, to the planners of war, seemed a reasonable trade-off. To the young Captain, it seemed less and less so with each friend who died.
Eventually, he came to see something he'd never quite considered before. Those who died fighting honorably for his nation, those who died fleeing in cowardice from their enemies, those who died in pursuit of the foul ambitions of the Southlords, they all had more in common than they had seperating them: They were all dead. Death, he came to realize, was not a potential downside of a valorous life. Death was the end of all dreams, hopes, loves, of life. Death, the one-way ticket.
But even as Arick came to value his own life, and those of his compatriots, his orders started getting more and more dangerous. The war-dukes had gained countrol of the valley of Samrahan, albeit shakily, but the legend said that if the spiritual center of the Southlords' religion were taken from them for a year and a day, their armies would crumble, and their era would end. Arick was ordered to lead his men to the pass of Tavlen, the only way to enter the sacred valley from the South, and thus the best hope of the Southlords to retake the valley before winter fell. If they could hold the pass for five days, reinforcements would arrive from the North, a cohort large enough to hold the pass until the snows covered it.
--
One night, while inspecting the camp, the young captain happenned by pure luck to notice footprints which did not bear the mark of his soldiers boots. Even noticing this was pure luck. He never would have been able to work out that the scout had hidden in the small crevasse behind him, on his own, but the scout saw only a man with his back to him, examining his tracks. Desperate, the spy lunged at Arick with his poisoned blade. No more a warrior than Arick was a tracker, this served only to reveal the scout to his intended victim, and within moments, the poisoned blade was at his own throat.
In his weak Norlander speech, the spy plead for his life. He claimed (truthfully) that he had been pressed into service, and (falsely) that he held no great loyalty to to his lords and their armies. Moved by the sorrow of the unwilling spy's story, Arick let the spy live, bound to prevent him from returning to those who sent him with information about the camp's location. Arick's small force would be unable to ambush an enemy who knew they were there. Further, they would provide little deterrant to an enemy who knew their true number.
Of course, the spy was no amateur, even if he hadn't chosen his career. He was able to free himself and slip into the night. By the time the camp knew he was gone, it was too late to do anything but send a few messengers back to the north to report on their imminent demise. The supply clerk Aiffe Jheru was the last of these. He was given the best of the camp's horses, and rode to a position where he could witness the battle and hopefully still flee to report its outcome. Aiffe watched his friends overwhelmed by the numbers of the Souther army, attacking at dawn. Aiffe watched his captain and friend fall from his horse even as the horse was slain. Aiffe waited, to see the captain rise again, and slay two more of the enemy. And Aiffe saw the captain fall to the swing of the huge Souther's club. Aiffe turned then, with a tear in his eye for his slain friends, and those yet to be slain, and fled to report the tragic loss to his superiors.
Aiffe was stunned to see the Norlander army's outriders before him. The first messanger had reached them, already two days ahead of schedule, and they put on all speed in hopes of holding the gap. Aiffe told them what he had witnessed, and rode on to deliver the message further. The outrider captain gave orders to his best marksman, and when the armies clashed, the souther giant fell to the first arrow of the battle. A cheer went up among the Norlander troops, and four more arrows struck the body where it lay on the ground. In the hearts of the men, the battle was already won, and the sacrifice of Captain DeLinne was not in vain.
When word got back to his family, all mourned. Their son, beleived by all to have a great destiny, had proven it, but in so doing had ended. Daven, declared heir to the family line, might have been happy, but of course he knew that now he could not escape his brother's shadow within his life. To outshine his brother, whetever else he acheived in life, he would have to die in an equally noble fashion. Daven was not afraid of death, mind you. No more afraid than he beleived his brother to have been. But he was a man, now, one capable of seeing the plain truth: That he would never live to enjoy glory untainted by the shadow of his brother.
The day after the great battle, the snow started to fall. The pass held through the winter, and the valley was not retaken by the Southlords until Spring. By the following fall, a treaty was signed, agreeing to the borders as they had stood eight years earlier.
--
What is seen and what is are not always exactly the same.
After his horse went down, Arick righted himself, and within seconds he had ended three more Southers. Their blood coated the earth, slick with the first frost of fall, and while Arick regretted every life he took, he had no plan to stop. Despite his fall, he was uninjured, and he fully intended to remain so. He saw the warrior-giant lift the great club to strike, and he darted foward to strike before the larger man had a chance. His timing failed him, however: The club was already approaching his head when he was ready to lunge for the giant's heart, and it was too late to avoid the blow. For a moment, Arick saw the same death which Aiffe reported a few hours later.
But blood has its own ways. Arick's foot slipped, and he fell backwards. The club pased so close to his ear that his helm hummed in resonance with the whistling sound of its passage. And then it clanged against the earth, and twisted, and Arick was blind, and he could not move. There were boots on his arms and his chest. Then there were bodies on top of his, Dead ones.
It was after dark by the time Arick got free of his broken shield and his dead friends' bodies. It was dawn before he wandered into the wrong camp. Of course, the Souther army was along since broken and scatterred, well to his north, and those remnants which made it back this far wouldn't do so for hours more, yet, but there was one man still in the camp. The spy was still recovering from injuries gained in the rather one-sided fight he'd had with Arick two nights before. Arick slit his throat, and vowed that any attacker he defeated again, he would kill outright. He had not lost his insight into the value of life. He had simply realized that those who were willing to try to take his once would try again.
Arick found a place to hide, planning to travel north after nightfall, but the snow fell early. He escaped to the west, to Savren, and bode the winter there. With Spring, he started to make his way back to his homelands, but travelling on foot, trying not to reveal your identity in a land more sympathetic to those who tried to kill you than those who died beside you, travel can be slow.
--
Arick knows he is likely presumed dead, but he does not know how much emotion has been invested in his death. He does not realize how much anger and hatred his appearance would provoke in his father, nor does he realize that his brother is now a knight, and already holds some of the titles and lands to which he once considered himself entitled. He is not aware that even his dear cousin who shares his name would find his presence unsettling.
Arrick doesn't want to be a knight, anymore. He's a scrapper, a survivor, and a killer, but he doesn't seek honor or glory any further. Without his lifelong goal to guide him, he has lost his way. He plans to return home, but he doesn't know why, or what he will do when he gets there. He has never been good at thinking things through much in advance.
Arrick isn't an adventurer, either. Despite his adventurous tale, he's just a former soldier, now. But he is ready for adventure to find him, and while he lacks the depth of skills which make a great adventurer, he is every bit as deadly as he has ever been, and that's always useful.
VERSION ONE
LPs:
Born Noble
Page
Squire
Lead to Professional Soldier, Captain
Age: 27
Stats
Per: B6
Will: B3
Agil: G3
Speed: B4
Pow: B3
Forte: B3
Attributes
Health: B3
Steel: B7 (Base Hesitation Ob 7)
Reflexes: B5
Mortal Wound: B9
PTGS
Su: 2, Li: 4, Mi: 6, Se: 8, Mo: 9
Skills
Ride: B4, Command: B3, Field Dressing: B4
Sword: G6, Brawl: G6, Knives: G3
Shield training, Mounted Combat, Armor Training
Resources
Affiliations:
Noble Family (DeLinne, distaff of Otrand)
Military (Norlander Army)
Contacts:
Sir Thern DeLinne, Father: Important, Family, Hated
Sir Daven DeLinne, Brother: Important, Family, Hated
Behanna DeLinne, Mother: Minor, Family, Loyal
Count Arick Otrand: Important, Family
Clerk Aiffe Jheru: Minor
Captain Sarm Lisazh: Important
Gear:
Superior Arms (sword and knife)
Chainmail Armor
Clothes
Shoes
Traits: Practical, Quiet
Instincts:
1> When entering a room, encountering strangers, et c., always identify any weapons, potential or real, first.
2> Never turn your back on a stranger.
3> Never let a defeated enemy live (an enemy is someone who has attempted violence against me.)
Beleifs:
1> The most valuable thing in the universe is life. My life is more valuable than your life.
2> If someone starts a fight with me, I am in my rights to finish it. If I have the opportunity to do so and pass it up, I deserve the (inevitable) consequences.
3> Weapons are made to be used. A man who carries a sword is ready to kill. (If a gun is mentioned in the first chapter, it will be fired before the end of the novel.)
VERSION TWO
Same as above, except:
Stats
Per: B4
Will: B5
Agil: B6
Speed: B5
Pow: B3
Forte: B5
Attributes
Health: B5
Steel: B8 (Base Hesitation Ob 5)
Reflexes: B5
Mortal Wound: B10
PTGS
Su: 3, Li: 5, Mi: 7, Se: 9, Mo: 10
Skills
Ride: B4, Command: B2, Field Dressing: B3
Sword: G5, Brawl: G6, Knives: B3
Shield training, Mounted Combat, Armor Training
NOTES
This is more or less an action movie trope stolen wholesale. The idealistic and highly talented warrior sees death first hand, loses his idealism. Becomes an embitterred self-serving type, but retains his ability to deal death swiftly and cinematically.
Arick has convinced himself simply that nothing is worth dying for, not even the ideals he beleived in as a child. If he were the lead character in an action flick, you would know the final conflict was coming when it were revealed that Arick had found something he is prepared to die for. In an epic fantasy story, where Arick is not the center of the story, it should be more complex, but the character is at the low point of his moral journey, and hopefully will, as an adventurer, come to re-acquaint himself with the glory of doing good deeds. Finding something he were willing to die for need not mean the end of the character's story, but just a change in its direction. In this context, Arick DeLinne has some shadows of Aragorn in him.
As an adventurer, Arick is pretty incompetent. He's not even a great soldier. What he's great at is fighting (of course, not knowing the system, I don't know how great he is or isn't.) He would have to learn how to be an adventurer, but hopefully, he would have friends to assist him. Before I got down to the nitty-gritty details of this character, I assumed that he would have skills like Observation Training, Sneaky, and Inconspicuous, but I realised that there were reasons these skills didn't show up in his lifepaths, and I decided it would be more fun to generate a character with substantial holes in his skill list.
So, my first stab at a BW character burning: A One-trick pony with shades of Chow Yun Fat, but not enough points to buy the trait. :)
Every boy is bound to see his father as the epitome of masculine virtue, but Arick's father really was: Sir Thern DeLinne, A knight. The pinnacle of honor, the lynchpin of security which holds society against the forces of chaos and foreign enemies. No boy with a single spark of virtuous humility in his soul would aspire any higher.
Arick, named so for his belated great uncle, once another mighty Knight of the realm, lived his life with every intention of becoming a Knight as well. As soon as he was eight years old, he became a page in the court of Sir Thirial, along with his cousin, named after the same uncle. The two were fast friends, and with enough in common in their features that people often thought little of calling them both by the same name. Within a couple of years, however, they were called after their father's professions, as each showed great promise even at a young age in following them. Arick Otrand was called 'Little count', and Arick DeLinne was referred to as 'knightling'.
And so, when Arick's younger brother arrived to join them in their training, he was quickly given the nickname of 'second son'. Even as a boy of 11, the knightling Arick had shown his remarkable talent with arms, and his devotion to knightly virtues, such as he perceived them. Brother Daven, while he strove to be everything his elder brother was, could never hope to compete as a fighter. Of course, his view of 'knightly virtues' included many of the things at which the Little Count excelled. Arick could never be bothered to learn letters, or courtly matters. Daven mastered blade and pen alike, but could never escape from his brother's shadow.
When Arick became a squire, he lorded his status over his younger brother further, but then, perhaps even worse for the younger one, he grew tired of teasing, grew too old and too wise to hound his sibling, but not wise enough to mend the wounds already made.
--
When the knightling and his cousin were not quite twenty winters aged, and near time to become knights, war came to their land. Arick DeLinne wished to become a knight and join the effort immediately, but skilled though he was, his tutors nor his leige considered him quite ready to be knighted. Rather than wait for the opportune time, Arick simply joined the professional army, parleying his family's status, his training, and his obvious gifts into a commission as a field captain.
This is when things started to change.
Captain Arick was not bad at his duties. Indeed, he had a gift for fighting, which, while it didn't always translate into tactical brilliance, inspired his men to heights they thought themselves incapable of reaching. When he saw battle, he saw death. Much of it at his own hand. But some would always strike his men as well. The War-dukes saw him as a unique asset. At the cost of somewhat high casualties, Arick seemed able to win battles others would lose. This, to the planners of war, seemed a reasonable trade-off. To the young Captain, it seemed less and less so with each friend who died.
Eventually, he came to see something he'd never quite considered before. Those who died fighting honorably for his nation, those who died fleeing in cowardice from their enemies, those who died in pursuit of the foul ambitions of the Southlords, they all had more in common than they had seperating them: They were all dead. Death, he came to realize, was not a potential downside of a valorous life. Death was the end of all dreams, hopes, loves, of life. Death, the one-way ticket.
But even as Arick came to value his own life, and those of his compatriots, his orders started getting more and more dangerous. The war-dukes had gained countrol of the valley of Samrahan, albeit shakily, but the legend said that if the spiritual center of the Southlords' religion were taken from them for a year and a day, their armies would crumble, and their era would end. Arick was ordered to lead his men to the pass of Tavlen, the only way to enter the sacred valley from the South, and thus the best hope of the Southlords to retake the valley before winter fell. If they could hold the pass for five days, reinforcements would arrive from the North, a cohort large enough to hold the pass until the snows covered it.
--
One night, while inspecting the camp, the young captain happenned by pure luck to notice footprints which did not bear the mark of his soldiers boots. Even noticing this was pure luck. He never would have been able to work out that the scout had hidden in the small crevasse behind him, on his own, but the scout saw only a man with his back to him, examining his tracks. Desperate, the spy lunged at Arick with his poisoned blade. No more a warrior than Arick was a tracker, this served only to reveal the scout to his intended victim, and within moments, the poisoned blade was at his own throat.
In his weak Norlander speech, the spy plead for his life. He claimed (truthfully) that he had been pressed into service, and (falsely) that he held no great loyalty to to his lords and their armies. Moved by the sorrow of the unwilling spy's story, Arick let the spy live, bound to prevent him from returning to those who sent him with information about the camp's location. Arick's small force would be unable to ambush an enemy who knew they were there. Further, they would provide little deterrant to an enemy who knew their true number.
Of course, the spy was no amateur, even if he hadn't chosen his career. He was able to free himself and slip into the night. By the time the camp knew he was gone, it was too late to do anything but send a few messengers back to the north to report on their imminent demise. The supply clerk Aiffe Jheru was the last of these. He was given the best of the camp's horses, and rode to a position where he could witness the battle and hopefully still flee to report its outcome. Aiffe watched his friends overwhelmed by the numbers of the Souther army, attacking at dawn. Aiffe watched his captain and friend fall from his horse even as the horse was slain. Aiffe waited, to see the captain rise again, and slay two more of the enemy. And Aiffe saw the captain fall to the swing of the huge Souther's club. Aiffe turned then, with a tear in his eye for his slain friends, and those yet to be slain, and fled to report the tragic loss to his superiors.
Aiffe was stunned to see the Norlander army's outriders before him. The first messanger had reached them, already two days ahead of schedule, and they put on all speed in hopes of holding the gap. Aiffe told them what he had witnessed, and rode on to deliver the message further. The outrider captain gave orders to his best marksman, and when the armies clashed, the souther giant fell to the first arrow of the battle. A cheer went up among the Norlander troops, and four more arrows struck the body where it lay on the ground. In the hearts of the men, the battle was already won, and the sacrifice of Captain DeLinne was not in vain.
When word got back to his family, all mourned. Their son, beleived by all to have a great destiny, had proven it, but in so doing had ended. Daven, declared heir to the family line, might have been happy, but of course he knew that now he could not escape his brother's shadow within his life. To outshine his brother, whetever else he acheived in life, he would have to die in an equally noble fashion. Daven was not afraid of death, mind you. No more afraid than he beleived his brother to have been. But he was a man, now, one capable of seeing the plain truth: That he would never live to enjoy glory untainted by the shadow of his brother.
The day after the great battle, the snow started to fall. The pass held through the winter, and the valley was not retaken by the Southlords until Spring. By the following fall, a treaty was signed, agreeing to the borders as they had stood eight years earlier.
--
What is seen and what is are not always exactly the same.
After his horse went down, Arick righted himself, and within seconds he had ended three more Southers. Their blood coated the earth, slick with the first frost of fall, and while Arick regretted every life he took, he had no plan to stop. Despite his fall, he was uninjured, and he fully intended to remain so. He saw the warrior-giant lift the great club to strike, and he darted foward to strike before the larger man had a chance. His timing failed him, however: The club was already approaching his head when he was ready to lunge for the giant's heart, and it was too late to avoid the blow. For a moment, Arick saw the same death which Aiffe reported a few hours later.
But blood has its own ways. Arick's foot slipped, and he fell backwards. The club pased so close to his ear that his helm hummed in resonance with the whistling sound of its passage. And then it clanged against the earth, and twisted, and Arick was blind, and he could not move. There were boots on his arms and his chest. Then there were bodies on top of his, Dead ones.
It was after dark by the time Arick got free of his broken shield and his dead friends' bodies. It was dawn before he wandered into the wrong camp. Of course, the Souther army was along since broken and scatterred, well to his north, and those remnants which made it back this far wouldn't do so for hours more, yet, but there was one man still in the camp. The spy was still recovering from injuries gained in the rather one-sided fight he'd had with Arick two nights before. Arick slit his throat, and vowed that any attacker he defeated again, he would kill outright. He had not lost his insight into the value of life. He had simply realized that those who were willing to try to take his once would try again.
Arick found a place to hide, planning to travel north after nightfall, but the snow fell early. He escaped to the west, to Savren, and bode the winter there. With Spring, he started to make his way back to his homelands, but travelling on foot, trying not to reveal your identity in a land more sympathetic to those who tried to kill you than those who died beside you, travel can be slow.
--
Arick knows he is likely presumed dead, but he does not know how much emotion has been invested in his death. He does not realize how much anger and hatred his appearance would provoke in his father, nor does he realize that his brother is now a knight, and already holds some of the titles and lands to which he once considered himself entitled. He is not aware that even his dear cousin who shares his name would find his presence unsettling.
Arrick doesn't want to be a knight, anymore. He's a scrapper, a survivor, and a killer, but he doesn't seek honor or glory any further. Without his lifelong goal to guide him, he has lost his way. He plans to return home, but he doesn't know why, or what he will do when he gets there. He has never been good at thinking things through much in advance.
Arrick isn't an adventurer, either. Despite his adventurous tale, he's just a former soldier, now. But he is ready for adventure to find him, and while he lacks the depth of skills which make a great adventurer, he is every bit as deadly as he has ever been, and that's always useful.
VERSION ONE
LPs:
Born Noble
Page
Squire
Lead to Professional Soldier, Captain
Age: 27
Stats
Per: B6
Will: B3
Agil: G3
Speed: B4
Pow: B3
Forte: B3
Attributes
Health: B3
Steel: B7 (Base Hesitation Ob 7)
Reflexes: B5
Mortal Wound: B9
PTGS
Su: 2, Li: 4, Mi: 6, Se: 8, Mo: 9
Skills
Ride: B4, Command: B3, Field Dressing: B4
Sword: G6, Brawl: G6, Knives: G3
Shield training, Mounted Combat, Armor Training
Resources
Affiliations:
Noble Family (DeLinne, distaff of Otrand)
Military (Norlander Army)
Contacts:
Sir Thern DeLinne, Father: Important, Family, Hated
Sir Daven DeLinne, Brother: Important, Family, Hated
Behanna DeLinne, Mother: Minor, Family, Loyal
Count Arick Otrand: Important, Family
Clerk Aiffe Jheru: Minor
Captain Sarm Lisazh: Important
Gear:
Superior Arms (sword and knife)
Chainmail Armor
Clothes
Shoes
Traits: Practical, Quiet
Instincts:
1> When entering a room, encountering strangers, et c., always identify any weapons, potential or real, first.
2> Never turn your back on a stranger.
3> Never let a defeated enemy live (an enemy is someone who has attempted violence against me.)
Beleifs:
1> The most valuable thing in the universe is life. My life is more valuable than your life.
2> If someone starts a fight with me, I am in my rights to finish it. If I have the opportunity to do so and pass it up, I deserve the (inevitable) consequences.
3> Weapons are made to be used. A man who carries a sword is ready to kill. (If a gun is mentioned in the first chapter, it will be fired before the end of the novel.)
VERSION TWO
Same as above, except:
Stats
Per: B4
Will: B5
Agil: B6
Speed: B5
Pow: B3
Forte: B5
Attributes
Health: B5
Steel: B8 (Base Hesitation Ob 5)
Reflexes: B5
Mortal Wound: B10
PTGS
Su: 3, Li: 5, Mi: 7, Se: 9, Mo: 10
Skills
Ride: B4, Command: B2, Field Dressing: B3
Sword: G5, Brawl: G6, Knives: B3
Shield training, Mounted Combat, Armor Training
NOTES
This is more or less an action movie trope stolen wholesale. The idealistic and highly talented warrior sees death first hand, loses his idealism. Becomes an embitterred self-serving type, but retains his ability to deal death swiftly and cinematically.
Arick has convinced himself simply that nothing is worth dying for, not even the ideals he beleived in as a child. If he were the lead character in an action flick, you would know the final conflict was coming when it were revealed that Arick had found something he is prepared to die for. In an epic fantasy story, where Arick is not the center of the story, it should be more complex, but the character is at the low point of his moral journey, and hopefully will, as an adventurer, come to re-acquaint himself with the glory of doing good deeds. Finding something he were willing to die for need not mean the end of the character's story, but just a change in its direction. In this context, Arick DeLinne has some shadows of Aragorn in him.
As an adventurer, Arick is pretty incompetent. He's not even a great soldier. What he's great at is fighting (of course, not knowing the system, I don't know how great he is or isn't.) He would have to learn how to be an adventurer, but hopefully, he would have friends to assist him. Before I got down to the nitty-gritty details of this character, I assumed that he would have skills like Observation Training, Sneaky, and Inconspicuous, but I realised that there were reasons these skills didn't show up in his lifepaths, and I decided it would be more fun to generate a character with substantial holes in his skill list.
So, my first stab at a BW character burning: A One-trick pony with shades of Chow Yun Fat, but not enough points to buy the trait. :)