Active Tirius Westergard

[Tohm]

Name: Tirius Westergard
Nickname/Alias: Ish-Fadosh (Sooleran name)
Status: Unknown.

Key Information

Age: 26
Gender: Male.
Race: Human.
Social Status: Hawklight Nobility. Duelist. Outlaw.
Sexuality: Heterosexual.
Marital Status: Single and ready 2 mingle ; )
Height: 5'10"
Weight: Around 175 lbs of lithe muscle. His active lifestyle mixed with enough funds to have a healthy diet have enabled him to have and maintain such a physique.
Homeland: Greater Skye, Talon Isles. He was born in Camp Norman upon the arrival of his mother and father after they fled the Northern Kingdoms
Current Home: Travels between Blackstone and a smaller island to the south of Greater Skye.
Date of Birth: Same time as his twin. Born right after his family came to the new continent.
Date of Death: N/A


Physiology

Build: Years of training have given him an athletic build.
Hair: His hair falls slightly past shoulder. Part of hit is tied back, and he wears a headband to keep it from falling in his face. He has left his face unshaven, and the beginnings of a beard begin to mark it.
Skin: White, and not very tan. He is a full blooded Northerner, and burns rather than tans.
Eyes: Blue. Similar to his twin’s.
Identifying Marks:

• None.

Appearance: Warm and friendly, yet his eyes have a slight squint to them, as if he’s always judging someone.
Hygiene: Decent. He bathes regularly while not travelling.
Posture: He holds himself confidently, with a relaxed sense about him.
Habits and Mannerisms: When idle, he tends to fidget with a ring that resides on his right middle finger.
Diet: Good. He can afford to eat well, so he does.
Voice: Wyatt Earp. Speaks in a warm tone, though when saying something sarcastic, he wouldn’t change his inflection at all as if to further mess with whoever he was speaking to.
Scars/Tattoos:

• A small scar to the right of his right eyebrow. Received when he was hit in the head by a skeleton.

Injuries/Illnesses:

• Sicko Mode

​

Qualities and Flaws

Intelligence: Quite intelligent. He was brought up as nobility, and in turn studied numerous subjects.
Known Languages:

• Common, fluent in all forms.
• Marjesh, conversational.

Memory: Decent.
Allergies: None known.
Addictions: None.
Fears:

• Deep Water. It is one of Tirius' greatest fears to die of drowning. When sailing, he either stays close to the masts of the ship, or under the deck.
• Not being there for his family. Should his family need him, his travels may make it difficult to get to his brother in time.

Weaknesses:

• Pretty women. Duh
• Hotheaded. He has no remorse for those who threaten him or his family, and has gone to great lengths to prove that such threats and actions are not taken lightly.

Temper: He can normally remain calm in most situations, but his temper can quickly shorten when family is brought into matters.
Sense of Humour: Ample. He enjoys making all sorts of jokes.
Pet Peeves: Idiots.
Sleeping Pattern: Sleeps sound.
Quirks: None.
Hobbies: Sword fighting, wrestling, drinking, gambling, hunting.

Favourites:
Colour: Deep green.
Music: Vocal music.
Food: A mixture of beef, cabbage, and potatoes.
Drink: Wine. He prefers reds.
Animal: Gryphons. He has had both friendly and unfriendly encounters with them, but holds immense respect for the creatures.

“No quarter.”​

Combat

Peaceful or Violent: Peaceful. Unless him or those he cares about are threatened, he’d pick up his blade without a second thought.
Ability: Very competent. He has placed well in previous tourneys.
Training:

• Trained in the use of the longsword from a young age, Tirius is competent when it comes to swordplay.
• He's been in his fair share of fistfights, giving him a certain competence when it comes to hand to hand combat.
• While not a sharpshooter, Tirius does know his way around a crossbow, gaining most of his experience from hunting.

Weaponry:

• Longsword. Forged by the master smith Sir Tohm, the blade was a gift to Tirius when he joined the Order of Gloriam Vinctum. The blade is very well kept, and sharpened and cared for regularly. On one flat of the blade, his family's motto "From Small Seeds, Great Trees." is etched in, and on the other, Theodra's motto "Let Wisdom Guide Your Strength" is etched in. An emerald is set in the pommel of the sword.
• Stiletto Dagger. Tucked into his belt.
• Hunting knife. Worn on his thigh, and is only carried on hunts.
• Sooleran Dagger. Given to him when he was initiated into his caravan. He has recently begun carrying it on him once more.
• Crossbow, purchased from a man at a fair. Draw weight is unknown. It is kept on his horse.
• Warhammer, purchased from Ventare Seymour. It is a one handed weapon capable of crushing plate.
• Boar Spear, his primary hunting weapon.

Armor:

• Hardened steel full plate. Full plate is worn over gambeson and chainmail. He normally wears a blue and black tabard with a black fur pelt around his waist.
• Black brigandine. Normally worn for hunts when he prefers to travel lighter. It still provides good protection against animals and such.

​

Ethics and Motivations

Personality: Generally a happy fellow, Tirius tends to enjoy joking. However, when an opportunity for action arises, he’s known to get himself involved. He is devoted to upholding a sense of equality of man, and is devout to Theodra’s beliefs.
Religious Values: Devout to Theodra. He strongly identifies with her, believing that she is watching over him and his family. He views her physical appearance as the White Wolf, rather than the more common Elven huntress.
Alignment: True neutral.
Short Term Goals:

• Train [ X ]

Long Term Goals:

• Become one of Theodra's Blessed.
• Become wise. He wishes to experience more so that others may come to him for his opinions.
• Protect his brother and House Westergard.

Possessions

Clothing: White tunic with a brown doublet. Numerous furs and pelts. In cold weather, he dons his gyphon cloak.
Most Prized Possessions:

• His longsword.
• An emerald necklace. A small emerald talisman of Theodra hangs from a silver chain. It is normally tucked into his shirt or armor for safe keeping.
• Sooleran dagger. The hilt is made of mangrove wood, and it is largely ceremonial. To taint it with his enemy's blood would be dishonorable.
• A large cloak made from the hide of a Northern Gryphon. The cloak is grey, and provides good protection from the elements.

Every Day Carry:

• A hundred odd radiants.
• Longsword.
• Dagger, tucked into his belt.
• Sooleran dagger, kept on his left thigh. The mangrove hilt is brandished, letting fellow Soolerans know that he is indeed a member.

Pets: Two Skye shorthaired pointers, 'War' and 'Wolf'. Used for hunting. They are scent hounds, and can easily track an animal down if given its scent.
Funds: Well enough. He prefers not to rely on his family’s funds, using mostly coin he has won through gambling or fighting.
Income: Gambling, Tournaments, Duels.
Homes: Blackstone.
Transportation: His horse. Most of his possessions are kept in saddlebags.
Places Traveled: Most of the Eastern Continent in addition to the Sooleran deserts. He spent several years travelling them with a Sool caravan.

 

[Tohm]

bad wip writing ahead

CHAPTER I​

The cawing and wailing of seagulls called through the salty breeze of Storm’s Landing as the sun shined down onto the crowds near the docks. A cloaked man drove his horse to a slow canter as he rode along the main street of the port. His horse was stacked high with the majority of his possessions, either being stuffed into the saddlebags or being fastened around the animal. A thick, long bundle wrapped in black cloth was fastened to the side of his saddle, and a soft clinking emitted from a large burlap sack that was rested and fastened to the back of his steed. He raised a hand to rub the stubble along his jawline as his eyes scanned the groups unloading and loading various assortments of commodities onto ships. His gaze rested upon a group of dark skinned humans wearing exotic, brightly colored clothing. “Soolerans.” he thought to himself before dismounting, his boots crunching into the dirt and gravel as he took the reigns of his horse in hand and began to approach the group. An older Sool sporting bright orange and yellow attire looked up to him, his eyes flicking between Tirius and his horse.

“Eh? You come late to trade, though you may look at the wares we have not loaded.” The man said in a curious accent.
“I’ve not come for trade, -” Tirius responded before being cut off by the man again.
He gave Tirius an odd look, speaking in an inquisitive and rushed tone. “You have not come for trade, yet you approach a trader? What do you come for then, pale-one?”
Letting out a soft exhale from his nose, Tirius’ eyebrow briefly twitched at the man’s rush. “Passage. Where are you sailing to?”.
The man smiled at Tirius before letting out a long and happy sigh. “Ah, the Great Desert. We are travelling for the second Fadma this year.” His face then shifted away from its previous smile, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at Tirius. “But, you must pay for your passage, as well as food for you and your horse.” He said before raising a hand and stroking his greyed goatee.
With a nod, Tirius’ right hand moved to the middle finger of his left, pulling off the exquisite emerald ring with a gleaming silver band. He held it up to the man, but was met with a shake of the head.
“Not enough, friend. It is a long journey to the Great Desert.” The man said, placing his hands on his hips, and living up to the Sooleran reputation.
With a sigh, Tirius reached into his tunic, pulling his necklace out and over his head, setting it in his palm alongside the ring. This time, the offering was met with a smile, and both items hastily scooped from his hand.
“A good deal, I assure you.” The old man said, giving Tirius an unmet pleasant smile before extending his hand in a gesture to a nearby Sool woman. “Marai will take you and your steed aboard. My name is El-Mazim Ituk.”

With a simple nod to the man, Tirius began towards the woman, giving a glance over his shoulder at the passersby behind him, pulling his horse in tow. Several commands were shouted by Ituk in a harsh, unfamiliar tongue. He raised his free hand, pushing the brown hood of the cloak down to his shoulders as he looked at woman. She was young, perhaps in her early twenties as he was. He surrendered the reigns of his horse to her as she quickly reached out with an impatient palm.
“Come.” She said in a sharp, disinterested tone as she turned, moving up a ramp and onto the large merchant vessel.
With an uneasy sigh, Tirius moved up the ramp, glancing down into the deep waters below. “I hate boats.” he thought to himself, turning his attention back to the deck of the ship as he stepped onto it. Crates of goods and cages of animals were being rushed below as deckhands prepared the ship for travel, and shouts of the same language that he had heard earlier echoed through the air. After a brief moment, Marai returned after a storing his horse below deck with the other animals, and whisked Tirius away off the deck and out of the way of the sailors as the ship began to undock shortly after.

CHAPER II​

The room swayed as the wood around him creaked. Tirius sat on a makeshift cot, scrupulously polishing his steel helmet. He stopped for a brief moment, feeling the lull of the sea rocking the ship before looking into the reflection of the gleaming steel. He raised a hand, rubbing the beginnings of a beard that grew on his face. He let out a sigh through his nose before going back to work on the helmet. The Sooleran caravan had been at sea for less than a week, and they had hit a storm. It wasn’t a serious one, but enough to warrant that most of the crew stay beneath deck until it passed. Even though it was unlikely to happen, he thought of the worst case scenario. It was his greatest fear to drown, and being in the ocean would only make that more likely. “Pray for the best, prepare for the worst” he thought to himself, returning the helmet to the burlap sack to the other pieces of his armor. Just as he began to wipe the oil from his hands, a loud knock rasped on the door to his room.
An unknown voice called out from the other side of the door in a thickly accented common. “Hey, Fadosh, come get your meal.”
Tirius tossed the rag on top of the burlap sack, pushing the bag aside with his boot before exiting the room. The layout of the ship was relatively simple, and he passed several unknown faces in the hallways before making it to the dining area. As he made his way to the back of the food line, he scanned the bustling room. It was lively and roaring with conversation and laughter. Amongst those eating and conversing sat some who would spend the time below deck gambling, playing various games that they had either come across during their travels or invented themselves. He shuffled along in the line before a wooden bowl filled with some sort of fish stew was shoved into his hands. Turning and stepping away from the line, he weaved through the crowded room to find a place to sit. His gaze fell upon a familiar face. It was the girl from before, Marai, who had taken his horse below deck and showed him to his quarters. There were also two other men with her. One had a large build and a bald head, but sported a large, well kept black beard. The other was a slightly older, more slender man. His skin was slightly lighter than that of his compatriot’s, and the black curls of his hair reached down to his shoulders. A thin mustache grew upon his upper lip, which was curved into a sly grin. He noticed Tirius first before saying something to the other two in Marjesh, and almost as if on cue, they all looked to Tirius as he hovered above a seat.
“Mind if I join you?”
Marai shrugged, motioning to the empty seat before Tirius. “Go ahead.”
He nodded before setting his bowl down onto the table and wrapping a hand around the back of the chair, to pull it out before taking his seat.
The larger man briefly looked over Tirius before speaking. “So, Fadosh, how are you liking the ship?” he said curtly in a thick Sooleran accent.
“Well enough. Not a fan of the ocean, though.”
The man huffed, giving an unimpressed look in Tirius' direction. “Yeah? And the desert? Ever been to one of those?”
He shook his head, idly stirring his soup around with a wooden spoon. “No, not your people’s desert at least.”
The slender man chimed in, his accent resembling that of a man from the Southern Kingdoms. “Ah, you aren’t familiar with real heat then.” he said with a laugh. “You’ll need thinner clothes so you don’t die of exhaustion in the Great Desert.”
Tirius simply nodded. He had spent time in the desert of the Eastern Continent before, but it was simply a few days worth of riding. He had a feeling that the Great Desert would different, and much hotter.
“When we dock in Mina Al-Fammam I’ll help you pick some out proper attire. The name is Jal-Ali, by the way.” The man said before motioning to the larger man sitting beside him. “And this is Ish-Baaqir.”
Baaqir simply stared at Tirius as an uncomfortable silenced settled in.
“Well met then, Ali.” Tirius finally said, offering his hand across the table.
Ali took his hand, giving it a shake before pulling it back. “And you are?”
Tirius pondered the question for a brief moment before speaking. “Fadosh. I suppose it’s already what you know me by.”

link
CHAPTER III​

The bells of the docks rang loudly as the Sooleran ship reached the pier. With a hand braced against the mast of the ship, Tirius looked upon the unfamiliar cityscape of Mina Al-Fammam. It was one of the largest ports and trade cities in the region, and it showed. Dozens of ships like the Sooleran one lined the docks, and for every dozen, a different language spoken by its crew. During the voyage, he had managed to strike a deal with Ituk Mazim. He would be working security for the caravan while they travelled to the Fadma celebration in exchange for a small salary. A lack of coin was not Tirius’ greatest worry, however, as he found that a lack of contacts was a more important issue that he faced now that he was in an unfamiliar land. The job for Ituk provided for these needs, and even more importantly, a new identity for himself. He was no stranger to travelling, as most of his youth was spent on a pilgrimage around the Eastern continent, though his current trip was different. He felt as if he needed to get out from under the watchful eye of those back home due to the attention that was brought to him after the killing of Brennard Westmay. Between that and the possession of Westmay’s sword, it would have only been a matter of time before he and his men were attacked again.

The trip to the market had been uneventful, though Tirius’ hand remained close to the hilt of his longsword as he carried a bundle of desert appropriate wear consisting of lighter weight clothing, as well as some cloth designed to be worn around the head to keep the sun from the skin under his other arm. The duke’s sword remained fastened to his back, less for utility and more for safekeep as he had decided to keep it on him whenever he could. Jal-Ali sauntered next to him as they made their way to the inn that the rest of the caravan had been staying.

“You know, you only need one sword for killing.” Ali said with a laugh as he looked at Tirius. “And besides, these streets are not so dangerous at this time of day.”
“I know.” Tirius replied, keeping his focus forward. “It’s a trophy, and I don’t want it being stolen.”
“Trophy? From whom?” Ali asked, rubbing a hand through his beard as the pair rounded a corner.
Tirius briefly adjusted the bundle before responding. “A man who posed a risk.”
Ali smirked, knowing that his questioning was beginning to make Tirius uncomfortable. “I see. Is that why you have run away, then? To hide from repercussions?”
Abruptly, Tirius stopped and grabbed a handful of material from Ali’s tunic, pulling him in as he lowered his voice to a cold tone. “No, and I suggest you save your questions for another time.” He then let go of Ali, and continued walking.
Keeping his smirk, Ali simply shook his head. “You Easterners do not know how to take a joke.”
The pair continued on in silence, though upon entering the inn were met with a cacophony of noise and commotion. Between drunk sailors telling their tales of travel on the high sea, bronzed bar wenches weaving through the patrons with drinks, and weary travellers simply trying to enjoy a drink, the scene was lively. Ali made his way towards the bar, motioning for Tirius to join him.
“I’ll come down after I put these away.” Tirius said, instead heading for a staircase up to the rooms.

He made his way up to his room, and unlocked the door before tossing the bundle onto the bed. He began to unstrap his scabbards, wrapping both of the swords in black cloth as he then set them underneath the bed, moving his rucksack to block any view of them. He tucked his dagger, a steel stiletto, into his belt before exiting his room. Whilst locking his door, he heard a muffled argument coming from an adjacent room - Marai’s room. Glancing up and down the hallway, he moved closer to the door, leaning against the frame as he held his ear to the door. He could barely make out what was happening, but it was certainly Marai and an unknown man speaking. The noise from the tavern downstairs was drowning most of it out, but he was able to pick out the apparent topic of the conversation. Something about a late payment, and the location of something. He decided not to push his luck, and moved away from the door to join Ali downstairs.

lol this aint done and I aint finishing it. Ask if you want to hear the rest​

 

[Tohm]

RELATIONS:
Ask if you want one, cause I don't update it unless I've got nothing to do.​

Loved:

Love Interest:

Platonic Loved:
+Forrest Westergard LeftwardElk, his twin brother. A man he would put everything on the table for, and expects nothing less in return.

Trusted:
+Sir David Promanguy1223 , a knight of Hawklight and a man who is loyal to House Westergard. He showed his grit and devotion when he took a mage's lightning bolt to the chest, and came out on top.
+Axex Hawklight, his King, and a renowned legend. Tirius holds immense respect for the man.
+Drake Hawklight, Missed. He fought alongside him many times, but wishes he could have been there for the man before he was kidnapped and killed.

Befriended:
+Arthur Ashenfall Morbid, hasn't been seen in quite awhile, but he assumes wherever he is, he is doing well for himself.
+Cymic, a competent fighter and an talented conversationalist. Tirius likes the man, and enjoys his company even more. Cymic_
+Ventare Seymour, ShaolinPunk Cymic's Moor bastard. A talented blacksmith and fletcher, and someone who he'd fight beside any day.

Liked:

Unsure of:

Wary of:

Disliked:
+ Sophia Dugald, the widow of the man who threatened to torture and kill him and his family. Believes she is a fool, but does not hold any further opinion of her.
+Mages, he has yet to met any mage who has not abused their magic. With almost nothing to counter their heretical powers, he believes no one should hold such power.
+Jaden, another man who threatened him and his family. He betrayed the Rangers, and needs to answer for his other crimes.

 

[Tohm]

bump, he's been active for awhile and I've done some updates on the character profile. I'm gonna try to RP him more, but ask if you want a relationship

 

[Cukie1]

Anaiah?

 

[Tohm]

I did first pixel art

 

[Shao]

nice bum chin

 

[Tohm]

nice bum chin

I needed something to make the face look not as flat, so I figured the CHAD CHIN would make a good addition

 

[Jase]

This is awesome haha

 

[Tohm]

bump with preemptive picture change for new hair.