RE: The Grand OC! [CONTEST XXIII: ANGLE!]
07-13-2014, 02:35 AM
(This post was last modified: 07-13-2014, 01:09 PM by Mirdini.)
Name: Wihtheow
Gender: Male
Race: Human?
Text Color: Sea Blue
Description:
A seemingly middle-aged man covered in scars and calluses from head to toe. Long, dirty brown locks droop out from under a brimless cap. His oiled tunic, sequined trousers and sturdy boots are in pristine condition, in stark contrast to the weathered body they shelter. A closer examination gives the lie to his battered frame, his sundry flaws merely cloaking a rugged strength not truly tested since before the cliffs were young.
A bracelet hangs around his right wrist, forced upon him by an adversary whose name has been lost to the ages. Ever since, his approach has been heralded by the gradual clangor it causes while he chooses which of the hooks on his belt to wield.
Weapons and Abilities:
He strides across the coasts with his legendary hréodgyrd, relentlessly seeking a hunt to match those of his youth. The tool stretches to the height of a man, but its fearsome bite has a vast, unnatural range. Combined with senses sharpened by his ceaseless quest, Wihtheow can haul, bind or score his quarry across countless leagues and fathoms - excepting when his path has been barred by Lime, Magnesia, or - if the old wives' tales can be trusted - woven wood that has never breathed the salt sea air.
Biography:
The frigid winds of the North Sea are an old friend to Wihtheow, as are the myriad beasts which ply its depths. He has defeated and released them all, for any mighty enough to match him have long since passed. Yet still he roams the shoreline, somehow certain that his time has not come as long as the final challenge he seeks eludes him.
He did not belong in this day, a time when the old legends are passing into myth, a time of migration and settlement beyond the waves which nurtured our forefathers.
His disappearance was inevitable, some say - his fable retiring to the sagas to which it belongs. What would I wager my coin on? That he found his challenge - and that in pursuing it he wanders strands beyond mortal ken.
Gender: Male
Race: Human?
Text Color: Sea Blue
Description:
A seemingly middle-aged man covered in scars and calluses from head to toe. Long, dirty brown locks droop out from under a brimless cap. His oiled tunic, sequined trousers and sturdy boots are in pristine condition, in stark contrast to the weathered body they shelter. A closer examination gives the lie to his battered frame, his sundry flaws merely cloaking a rugged strength not truly tested since before the cliffs were young.
A bracelet hangs around his right wrist, forced upon him by an adversary whose name has been lost to the ages. Ever since, his approach has been heralded by the gradual clangor it causes while he chooses which of the hooks on his belt to wield.
Weapons and Abilities:
He strides across the coasts with his legendary hréodgyrd, relentlessly seeking a hunt to match those of his youth. The tool stretches to the height of a man, but its fearsome bite has a vast, unnatural range. Combined with senses sharpened by his ceaseless quest, Wihtheow can haul, bind or score his quarry across countless leagues and fathoms - excepting when his path has been barred by Lime, Magnesia, or - if the old wives' tales can be trusted - woven wood that has never breathed the salt sea air.
Biography:
The frigid winds of the North Sea are an old friend to Wihtheow, as are the myriad beasts which ply its depths. He has defeated and released them all, for any mighty enough to match him have long since passed. Yet still he roams the shoreline, somehow certain that his time has not come as long as the final challenge he seeks eludes him.
He did not belong in this day, a time when the old legends are passing into myth, a time of migration and settlement beyond the waves which nurtured our forefathers.
His disappearance was inevitable, some say - his fable retiring to the sagas to which it belongs. What would I wager my coin on? That he found his challenge - and that in pursuing it he wanders strands beyond mortal ken.