Post by Bartolomeo on Jul 22, 2015 17:05:49 GMT
Notice: Anything in red is subject to change should Braddock find work and once again be able to feed himself.
Name: Braddock Joseph Denicott
Age: 26
Nationality:
Swadian
Hair:
Dusty Brown
Eyes:
Light Brown
Skin Color:
Caucasian
Height:
5'11
Weight:
140
Build:
It is fairly hard to tell as of now, but he appears to have a naturally muscular build, broad shouldered and barrel chested. He is a mesomorph to the CORE.
Appearance:
Braddock resembles a mangy dog more than a human being. What once was a proud facial feature is now nothing more than a longer section of a growing beard. His bright eyes are now overshadowed by his almost inhumanly dark eyelids, the cause of which is a mixture of malnourished and lack of sleep. His hair is dry and brittle, coming to an end at his shoulders, and a long chin and nose which both end in a point are exaggerated by sunken cheeks and protruding cheekbones. His body does not fair much better as he appears to be nothing more than a man held together by skin and bones. Strangly enough he still bears a welcoming and friendly look, smiling a full row of straight yellow teeth wherever he goes.
Facial Markings:
Unkempt mustache, beginnings of a full beard, sunken cheeks and eyes.
Interests: Serving his lord, finding work, swordplay, hunting, armouring, serving the Maker.
Dislikes: Honourless acts, "barbarians" (Nords, Khegirits), laziness, disobedience, heathens.
Strengths: Loyal, honourable, proficient swordsman, adept archer, literate(ish), masterful , willful, soldiering, skilled negotiator, very religious.
Weaknesses: Loyal, physically weak and underfed, rash, arrogant, overprotective, under-educated, vain, very religious.
Fears: Loss of his lord, financial instability, damage to his persona as a blacksmith.
Profession: Blacksmith
Background/History:
"Braddock is a name for a nobleman, you should not only be proud to wear it, but wear it well." - Calvin Mulhond
Braddock, unfortunately, doesn't remember much of his childhood. He knows his father's name was Joseph, and his mother's was Gertrude. He knows that Joseph was a weaponsmith in service of Lord Calvin Mulhond and Gertrude was a servant woman in the same keep. He knows that at a young age both his parents died, but what they died of is still a mystery to him.
His first memories are of the castle, the high walls, painted yellow with time and sand. He grew up in the castle, tended by the different inhabitants of the until he was old enough to sustain himself. By the age of twelve he was apprentice to master armourer Olaf, a stout man with a large, greasy beard, assigned to aiding him in his various projects. He manned the bellows, maintained the coal, fetched tools, and once he was old enough, helped forge. Olaf was not a smart man, but he was a fine weaponsmith, able to make a host of weapons ranging from Rhodok to Vaegir. He was a Nord by birth but found himself in Swadian territory after his warparty was destroyed. But the Maker seemingly has a sense of humor, and when Braddock reached the age of fifteen, Olaf's beard wandered too close to a heated piece of iron and caught on fire, which Olaf then tried quench by jamming his head in a bucket of oil.
After Olaf's death the torch fell to Braddock (no pun intended). He was anointed master armourer and weaponsmith in the wake of his master's grizzly death, despite the fact he was not halfway through his apprenticeship. He preformed was well as can be expected, mending chipped swords and fractured breastplates masterfully, but forging entirely new works were his vice. He would often misshape the weapon, or forget an important step, one time he forgot to temper the weapon entirely, leaving the user with little more than a brittle metal stick. After many trials and many errors, Braddock was twenty and heralded as an expert, he was most suited to making Swadian weapons and armour, but a adept at making Rhodok, Vaegir, and Nordic crafts as well.