Post by Brandr Friedrich III on Jun 27, 2016 17:33:53 GMT
Brandr Lambert Friedrich III
"The Black Hand"
PLAY BY: Kit Harington.
-- the basics --
AGE: Thirty.
GENDER: Male.
ORIENTATION: Heterosexual.
POSITION: Privateer. Mercenary.
ALLEGIANCE: The Mariner's Union master-at-arms for The Bloody Crown., Merill's Marauders.----------------------------------------------------------------------------- the character --
HEIGHT: 6'2"
HAIR COLOR: Black.
EYE COLOR: Brown.
MISC: His moniker comes partially from his fondness for the color black. His attires, more often than not, are of a rather simple color palate; black, blacker, and blackest. His attires are functional versus fashionable. Often wearing leathers and light mails. His stringy hair is often kept back in a ponytail and his facial hair is well-kept at all times. His body is littered with scars, some more substantial than others. Various nicks, burns, and bruises are often found upon his arms. He has a rather pronounced scar that sits right below his chin, directly above his hyoid bone. There as a large scar than spans the length of his abdomen on his right side, and a deep gouge that sits just above his hip on the left side of his body.
His right hand almost always sits upon the pommel of whatever blade is situated upon his right hip, without fail. Whether grasping the portion of the weapon, simply dragging his finger around the ball, or tracing the design. His hand is always at the ready. He's also known for carrying a wide variety of bladed weapons upon his body at any given time. It's be stated in jest that he if one were to take away all of the weapons that Brandr carries upon his body, there would be nothing left but bones. This isn't entirely far from the truth, but it somewhat exaggerated. He has a noted fondness for curved blades, often carrying a pair of sickle swords upon his thighs. He is also known to actively carry around twelve throwing knives on his body, usually located on inside of his forearms.
His prize possession is that of the bastard sword known as the 'Drachentoter'. Whether the blade's namesake is true or not is a matter of highly contested debate among his peers. He is unwilling to talk about it or humor such discussion. The blade was handed down to him from his father, and is always carried with him. Depending upon the situation, the blade is usually at his back or sitting at his side. It's easily recognizable due to the silver guards and the carved white dragon's skull upon the pommel of the guard. He often switches between wielding the blade one-handed (often paired with a short sword or dagger,) or with two-hands. The former is more common than the latter, as he enjoys the versatility of the style.
OOC KNOWLEDGE: Drachentoter is said to be a magical item that is no longer active. The blade's power is directly tied to dragon's blood, in particular the soaking of the blade in dragon's blood for a week's time. While it has been stated that the blade itself, even without active magics, is always sharp to an uncanny degree, the ritual gifts the weapon a dangerous ability. After being bathed in dragon's blood, the weapon becomes mortally toxic. Even the smallest cut from the blade can cause a fast-acting necrosis. The weapon was commissioned by his father in desperation, in the case of being forced into single combat with such a magnificent beast. There are stories of Brandr II killing such a beast with the weapon, but the authenticity is unknown.
Due to destruction of the creatures, while of excellent craftsmanship (said to be near-indestructible) and possessing an uncannily keen nature, the blade, while exquisite, is little more than that.
The other portion of his moniker comes from the fact that his right hand, when exposed, is noticeably black. Reaching halfway up his forearm, his hand and lower forearm are covered in tattoos of ornamental nature. From a distance it simply looks as though his hand is simply covered in black ink. Upon closer examination one can make out a variety of runes, patterns, and words that are woven together to make an intricate piece of art.
OOC KNOWLEDGE: These tattoos form a tangled web of wards against various magics, elemental and otherwise. While nowhere near as powerful as those employed by the Chevaliers, it does give him an beneficial resistance to magical attacks and spells.
PERSONALITY: "Slick like a knife." It's something you're bound to hear when people speak of Brandr. For all of his charisma and at times friendly bravado, anybody who has ever sailed with him or worked beside him knows exactly the type of person he is, and he makes no amends for this. He's pragmatic at best, self-serving and baleful at his worst. He takes the world as it is, all of her flaws, and it embraces the chaos wholeheartedly. One might even say that he thrives in the current state uneven state of Thrella. Growing up, war was all that he dreamed of. Having been born right before the start of the war, he knew no other life. His formative years revolved around combat, training, and survival. Thus, his personality is great dictated by these same things. He loves getting his adrenaline pumping. He loves to test himself and those around him to become the best version of himself possible. This can often come at the detriment of those around him, and he usually doesn't care.
It would be dishonest to say that he doesn't care. While he was taught right and wrong, good and evil, at the same time there was a duality to their lives. They existed in a sort of moral vacuum. There were times when, right or wrong, you would have to kill or steal to survive. That meant having to learn to live with the things you had done, the horrors that you had seen, and the pain you had put others through. While that rattled some, Brandr has always handled with a cool and unnerving sense of inner peace. He likes to believe that he is a product of the world, of the war, and thus his actions aren't truly as despicableas some might say. He serves a greater purpose than most will ever know. He is the hand of fate that, when called upon, is the difference between life and death when the right amount of coin is pushed in his direction. If what he was doing was truly wrong, why was it so profitable? Why did it feel so good? Moral quandaries that, at times, haunted him in the late night. But such thoughts are fleeting.
He's a prideful individual who is quite proud of his abilities. While not outwardly arrogant, he'd much rather let his actions in any given situation do the talking. He's honest and blunt like a knife. Apathetic, there are very few people he connects with on a personal level. His behavior, his slick charm, is often off-putting to anybody with any semblance of a conscious. He enjoys life. He enjoys his vices. He genuinely enjoys shedding blood. He genuinely enjoys testing his mettle against those around him. He does not fear death, nor does he fear his deeds catching up with him. As far as he is concerned, he's already dead. He's simply waiting for the dirt to fall on his face so that he can get the rest that such a hardfought live deserves. This isn't to say that he doesn't have his vices and addictions. Alcohol is a mighty fine friend when a day has come to his end, often times accompanied with lady of the night. He's known to be somewhat of a masochist, going out of his way to find pain that makes him feel alive.
With his family left behind, he doesn't usually see a need for actual relationships. Every conversation, every connection, it all serves a purpose. Attachment, personal or otherwise, breeds weakness. It frays the mind and clouds one's judgement. When possible, he avoids them outright when capable of doing so.----------------------------------------------------------------------------- the history --Brandr Lambert Friedrich III was born to parents Brandr Lambert Friedrich II of Ederhund, and Alessa Gabriella Xenophane of Therin. The third child of the pairing, he was born five years prior to the start of the great war. His parents were fortunate enough to flee from the nation of Ederhund following invasion and cultural and structural decimation by the Coterie forces. Brandr’s father was upon the front lines when the country was attacked, as member of the Imperial Navy currently a part of fleet operations and training. Though they fought bravely, they were ultimately no match for the forces at the Coterie’s forces and the betrayal of Ederbrecht. His mother was a former warrior who had been forced out of service due to injuries suffered, and as such left her land in search of a peace that seemed to be fleeting. She found it with Brandr’s father, and thus a beautiful family flourished. The family was able to escape, but not without their tragedies, losing their oldest son in the process.
Brandr’s early life was that of travel. His father never forgot the horrors that had befallen his people and thus continued to fight where he could, when others called for aid, with the remains of Ederhund’s Imperial Navy. It only took a few years for their numbers to be absolutely decimated, to the point that a once proud fleet had been reduced to a handful vessels. It was at this time that, guided by his mother, the family came to Therin, as their mother was sure that the country would be capable of surviving any incursion brought upon them. The country often boasted the best warriors in all of the land, a claim that had been defended several times over in various wars and skirmishes over the years. Brandr training began the moment he could walk. Whether it was learning to helm a vessel, or combat training with his mother. He was born into war, and thus he was shaped by war. There was little time for play, as during these times no one could tell when the next attack would come.
By the time he was a teenager the war had consumed the nations of Thrella. His eldest brother, Konrad, was a seasoned veteran of the conflict. Having sailed as first-mate under their father, he often told Brandr grand stories of the battles they had fought and survived. Where Konrad was vocal about such incidents, it was often met with rage from their father. ‘Do not glorify horrors,’ he often said to his children, who at this point had grown from two to a total of four, including a younger brother, Eadric, and a younger sister, Rudelle. His father was adamant about retaining their heritage in a foreign land, and as Brandr was not yet old enough, barely past twelve years, he raised hounds on their land and helped with the training and care of his siblings. This made him bitter, as he viewed the war as a glory that he was being denied. Alessa tried to reel in this restlessness by honing his skills, but Brandr's mind was often elsewhere. The only thing that brought him any sort of peace were his hounds.
With his fourteenth year of life came the chance he had been waiting for. Not only would he be able to see the war, but he would be able to do so standing next to his father and brother. His first three years upon Lady Luck were spent working his way from the bottom up. Despite his father being the captain, he was given no special treatment. While he resented this at first, he would eventually appreciate the knowledge he gained through such training. At the age of seventeen he became and apprentice to his brother, and began to earn his keep as a mate. It was around this time that his mother and younger siblings joined the crew, as mainland Therin had come under siege. Brandr's father had grown desperate, like many others in the war, and had begun to look towards alternative means as a way of not only defending themselves, but defeating the Coterie. It was in this search that not only was the Drachentoter crafted, but he began experimenting with runes as a form of defense and concealment.
Many of the sailors had their bodies emblazoned with rune and wards, hoping to give them a greater defense against their magic-wielding foes. Whether or not these helped is a matter of debate. As there are some who swear by their potency and others who simply believe it to be nothing more than wasted ink and ingredients. His father spent a fortune when it came to the crafting of the blade and the ingredients for such wards, but ultimately believed that it was necessary. For a while this seemed true. They were capable of not only sneaking up on Coterie vessels, but defeating those with small numbers aboard. This time of joy was short lived. In Brandr's twenty-first year, during a port visit, the city was attacked by the Coterie fleet. At the head of this attack was a wave of dragons that laid waste to all that they touched. His father would not stand by and watch as the world burned down around him. He gathered what brave men remained and went to attack the Coterie head on. It was a battle he would not return from.
Konrad returned, near death, and brandishing the Drachentoter. He was one of many to tell the story of their father slaying a dragon with a single blow from the blade before being engulfed in flames from another. Konrad had returned a broken man, losing his right arm to the Coterie in the battle and part of his left leg. The Lady Luck was destroyed with most of the port on that night, the remains of the family barely escaping with their lives. It was then that, like so many others, they flooded to Goldcrest in search of sanctuary and reprieve. While each found their own way to blend into the melting pot, Brandr found the adjustment difficult. Unlike the rest of his family, he had not been searching for peace. He had spent his entire life chasing conflict. The notion of a peaceful existence was not something that appealed to him. At the age of twenty-two, in the middle of the night, he silently slipped away in the night. He left his family a note, the only possession he took was that of their father's sword.
Brandr would spend the next few years upon various ships doing a variety of jobs. Some of these were honest jobs, traveling with merchants, hauling merchandise, etc. others were not. He found that he had a penchant for violence, it was something that he absolutely excelled at. It was during this time that he made a name for himself as a mercenary. For a while he found himself wherever the most coin was provided, regardless of their allegiance or motives. If there was conflict, he was there. Despite the vile nature of the jobs, he often found himself seeking out contracts of the more intimate kind. While there was thrill in large-scale battles, there was a certain charm to to taking a single life given the correct situation. As the years passed, he lost himself in his work. Often numbing himself with the brew and whatever bed he could find on any given night, occupied or otherwise. The only time he really felt alive was when he was fighting, bleeding, or on the edge of death.
In the years following the war, he found himself as a member of The Bloody Crown. It was during this time that, like his father before him, he had begun to experiment with runes in the form of tattoos. His tattoos had become almost a calling card for his work. When the vessel made port, he would take on any contracts that he could find to pass the time before setting sail once more.----------------------------------------------------------------------------- the player --
USERNAME: CeeCee.
AGE GROUP: A bit personal, aye?
EXPERIENCE: Too long.
WHERE DID YOU FIND US? Robbo.
