Old RPOL Character

[Snowmane]

I was going through some old files and I found a character submission I had made for a game on RPOL. The game, called CELTIC CHALICE, was very loosely based on Lord of the Rings and has since been deleted.

I liked the concept of the character, but I could never really get him to fit into the story that was being told. Anyway I thought I'd post it here. Maybe he can inspire someone to make a character like him. If someone wants to steal him outright, I am cool with that too. With just a few tweaks he could fit into Sundren.

************************************************** ****

Character Name: Sir Duncan Tyrell Brannagh, though he currently goes by the simple name Duncan as he feels unworthy of his title.

Age: 24

Description: His height combined with his broad shoulders and thick, muscular build make Duncan an intimidating man. Standing 6'5" and weighing around 250 lbs, Duncan is built to fight. His eyes have gone grey due to the hardships of his life, but yet still some blue remains which becomes more pronounced on the rare occasions when he smiles. His brown hair is kept back in a short pony tail to keep it out of his face. His body is badly scarred from torture at the hands of orcs, though his face is more or less intact. And his tongue has been cut out.

Skills: First and foremost, he is a warrior - highly trained in the common knightly skills: sword, shield, mace, spear, mounted combat including jousting. He is literate and educated. He is also skilled at whittling and he is secretly very skilled at flute playing.

Faction: Good Side, Human

Character History:

Sir Brannagh was born the lesser son of a minor noble in Caledonia. He was a powerful warrior with an equally powerful heart. When Killian rode to battle, it was Sir Brannagh along with a small contingent of men who represented the Brannagh clan on the battlefield. Sir Brannagh was proud to have the honor to defend his country from the forces of Darkmere, but little did he know that he would find his ruin on the campaign.

He and his men were on patrol, well ahead of the army, when they were ambushed by a horde of orcs. They fought valiantly, but the sheer number of the opposing force overwhelmed them. All were slain save for Sir Brannagh, who was instead dragged off to be interrogated.

They forced him into a large, filthy tent and chained him to a stone altar laid out on his back. For two days they tortured him. The orcs took turns cutting into his flesh and breaking his bones, all the while asking him questions about Killian’s army. Sir Brannagh told them nothing. He refused to die and he refused to talk.

On the third day, an orcish shaman came to him and said, “So, this is the brave human who holds his tongue.”

“I’ll tell you nothing, fiend!” exclaimed Sir Brannagh

“Oh, I have no doubt your will is strong. But we have no more time.” replied the hideous creature as he took hold of a pair of tongs from among the various instruments of torture strewn nearby. A large orc held Sir Brannagh’s mouth open while the shaman grabbed his tongue with the tool and drew it out. The shaman began chanting in a guttural language and produced a knife from the belt at his waist. With a quick tug and flash of the knife, he cut off Sir Brannagh’s tongue and cast it down on a nearby table.

The tongue began to tremble of its own accord, and then it began to speak. It spoke of Killian’s army. It revealed the number of soldiers; it revealed the path they would take . . . it revealed everything. Sir Brannagh could only barely hear the words as he writhed in pain, blood flowing copiously from his severed stump of a tongue.

When the tongue had concluded its tale, it fell limp. “We must act on this at once.” The shaman said to his companion.

“What of the Human?”

“Kill him, he has served his purpose.”

The shaman left and shouted in orcish to the rest of the orcs and they took up his shout with a bustle of activity. The remaining orc drew a dagger from his belt and approached Sir Brannagh.

“It is a shame that you must die so soon, Human. I was looking forward to playing with you for days . . .”

A sudden burst of strength arose in Sir Brannagh and he pulled at his chains with all his might. The sudden snap of an iron chain link breaking was difficult to hear over the cacophony of orcish voices from outside the tent, but the orc standing over Sir Brannagh heard it clearly. He had just enough time to open his eyes wide before brought down his fist on the orcs head, smashing his skull and killing him instantly.

Getting to his feet and grabbing the orcs knife was more painful then any of the torture he had endured at the hands of the orcs. And he knew the pain was going to get worse.

Sir Brannagh wrapped himself in the dead orcs cloak and left the now unguarded tent. All of the orcs were busy breaking camp and none spared him a second glance. He hobbled to a nearby fire pit and grabbed burning log from the fire and wandered out of the camp. Once he was out of sight, he pressed the still burning tinder to what remained of his tongue, cauterizing the wound.

Sir Brannagh wandered for many nights, hiding during the day. He ate bugs and whatever else he could find that crossed his path. He did not know how many days he had wandered like that when his body gave out and he finally fell unconscious beside the banks of a creek. It was a sleep from which he would never wake.

Fortunately, it was not long before he was found by Seamus McAnders, a farmer. Seamus splashed water on Sir Brannagh and revived him just enough to help him climb into the wagon. He took the wounded man home where he and his daughter, Leanne, nursed Sir Brannagh back to health.

Duncan remained in the farmers care while his wounds healed. Weeks later he was able to move, and though his duty required him to return to the castle, he was ashamed at his part in the death of Killian. He also felt he owed Seamus a debt, so he decided to help the old man harvest his crop and deliver to market, at which time he would return to the castle.

How you see yourself fitting into this game:

I am still trying to get a sense of the flow of the story. Duncan is man in search of a path to redemption. It’s possible that accompanying Brighid and keeping her safe could be one way for him to redeem his lost honor. He could also be a human that she could respect as most of the other humans she has had to deal with seem to be treating her like crap.

I don’t really know if Brighid’s healing power will be able to heal Duncan and regrow his missing tongue. It may be more difficult because he lost it as the victim of dark magic and not simply through violence. I would leave that decision up to the Game Master.

3 paragraph writing sample

Duncan reached up to help Leanne down from the wagon. His hands nearly encompassed her entire waist as he lifted her and placed her gently on her feet.

“Thank you, Duncan” she said. “I am sure my dress would have caught on something if I tried getting down by myself.”

The large man gave a slight smile and a nod in response. Leanne made a face and hit him in the chest with the back of her hand. She immediately regretted it as pain shot up her arm when she made contact with the thick, hard muscles of Duncan’s chest.

“Ow! That hurt!” she exclaimed as she rubbed her throbbing hand. “You could have at least pretended that you don’t think I’m a hopeless klutz. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”

Duncan threw his hands up in the air in mock surrender without losing his smile. Leanne harrumphed at him, turned her back and headed into the market. With a slight chuckle, Duncan turned back to the wagon and began to help Seamus unload his crops.

“My daughter seems to have taken a liking to you, Duncan”, said Seamus. “You know, just because you’re on the mend doesn’t mean you have to go. You are welcome to stay with us as long as you like.”

Duncan paused for a second. He knew Seamus was serious, and the idea of spending more time in the McAnders home was appealing. Seamus wasn’t getting any younger and he could surely use more help running the farm. Seamus’ wife had died years before after bearing him only one daughter and no sons, leaving the farmer alone to till his fields and to raise Leanne.

But Duncan could no longer hide from his responsibilities. No, he had to return to the castle and face the consequences of his failure. With a sigh, he bent down and scratched into the earth with his finger, I must go.

“Well, if you must then you must. It’s not like I could stop you anyway.” Seamus reached up and put a hand on Duncan’s shoulder. “Just remember that you are always welcome at our hearth.”

Duncan answered with a nod of his head and a smile.

It took a few hours to unload the wagon and to arrange the goods in Seamus’ market stall. Once that was accomplished, Duncan shook the old farmer’s hand and with their farewells concluded, walked off in the direction of the castle.