William Vaul - Printable Version

William Vaul - Printable Version

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William Vaul - Hutchy - 19-02-2013

Gets updated with every significant change. Please do not post on this thread

"In the Land of the Blind, the one eyed man is king"

Northmark William Vaul
Disciple of the Pantheon, Favored Student of High-Marshal Alleric, Traitor

One great, huge 'Danke' to Pinkie for delivering this liquid awesome!

General Info:
Name: William Holt Vaul [Holt is a personal name, used only by close friends and family]
Aliases: 'Off-With-its-Head Vaul' / 'Starch-Arse' / 'Cobalt-Holt' / The Guillotine / 'One-Eyed Willy'
Age: 36
Birthday: 22nd of every 2nd month
Gender: Male
Race: Mesalian - Northman
Creed: Mesalian Pantheon Orthodoxy, Superstitious/backward beliefs
Hometown: Long Night
Profession: Builder, Part-Time Destroyer of worlds

Appearance

Height: 6'4 / 193cm
Weight: 240lbs / 109-ishkg

Appears an inch-or-two taller because of his long arms and legs, large hands and feet and ruler-like posture. After years of hard work and training, he actually looks closer his weight with quite a heavier and much stronger build than when he first arrived back in Auria. Despite even his appearance he's able to call upon reserves of strength that are less obvious.
He's some small nicks and cuts that have healed over, notably the drag burns where bowstring or feathers have made contact with the skin of his hands and right cheek as well as other smaller injuries that have appeared over the years.
All around his back, sides and torso are a random series of blunt impact and crude cut scars, like he's been whipped or hit hard with something like a branch of a tree and burn marks.
There is a blatantly obvious scar on the left-centre side of his forehead from an accident during the volcanic disaster; It was bandaged and has since healed up and is clearly visible into his fringe and down into the brow, creating a gap between a a large area of baldness. The centre of the wound is deep and visibly depressed in the skin.

He is topped with a crop of surprisingly clean, ear length blonde-ish hair in no particular unkempt style which is longer at the back. Despite his age, he is starting to grey somewhat, the blonde on his head growing lighter. Eyebrows and ever-present layer of stubble are a strikingly contrasted dark brown. There is a tribal skull tattoo hidden by the hair on the back of his neck.
His pale complexion, prominent facial structure, square jaw and aquiline nose betray his northern heritage, but also how much sun his home town of Long Night didn't get and the amount of time he's spent in the wilderness. His left eye, apart from being pure-grey and with a small pupil, is slightly bloodshot and has dark circles and bags under it from lack of sleep and recurrent, frequent nightmares. His right eye socket is covered with an eye patch. The eyelid itself has been stitched shut.

Clothing wise, he wears a fairly simple, everyday white shirt and navy trousers under a tanned leather, hooded jacket. He is almost always lugging about his rucksack and plenty of other pouches and pockets for storage, a dozen or so hanging from his belt. Hands are perpetually wrapped in fingerless, brown-cloth gloves and treads in tough, toe-capped boots. Depending on his destination, this can change. If he has a particular destination in mind and plans to spend some time there, he'll throw a shawl over his coat, patterned to match the terrain.
He wears an abstract totem around his neck, a ring on his right index finger and a coiled band on his right wrist, on the left wrist is what appears to be a necklace, tied on tight to where it presses into the skin. It never comes off.

In his armour, he is a literal juggernaut. his armour is composed in such a way as to maximise protection from penetrating and blunt attack while not restricting movement, it also acts to exaggerate his shape, making him appear even larger. While having no use in combat, it can be quite scary to fight someone who looks a foot taller than you and looks to be 300lbs of muscle and nerves!.
He wears a sectional leather carapace which covers his torso, upper arms and thighs. Under this, on his torso, he wears a chain hauberk which reaches down to just above the elbows and his belt line. sandwiched between these are thin plates of steel. A pair of thin, articulated steel pauldrons hug his shoulders.
He is further protected by a high plate gorget which steeples just below his nose, plated gauntlets and high boots. He once had a cloak of midnight blue and silver, showing his lineage to his Coven, but that is long lost.

Skills

Novice; Apprentice; Competent; Advanced; Expert; Master

Combat:
As a Northmark initiate, the children are expected to show proficiency in a variety of fields concerning the use of weaponry. William is able to apply knowledge of these and is able to partake in many forms of combat.

Archery (Advanced) - The usage of bows, arrows and similar tools and weaponry for hunting, sport and combat
Hand-to-Hand Fighting (Competent) - Particular style [i]and simple brawling used as a means of self-defense
Traditional Weapon Training (Advanced) - [i]Is able to apply knowledge and preference for axes, bucklers, swords and Tonfa to use them as offensive and/or defensive weaponry -

Knowledge:
[i]'Might isn't always right'. A sharp mind can be the key to survival as much as any blade or amount of brawn.
Mathematics (Apprentice) - Abstract study of topics encompassing quantity, structure, space, change, and other properties.
Linguistics (Competant) - William is fluent in Northspeak and the Common Tongue, and is well versed in Lucin.

Trade skills:
Being from a settlement of carpenters, miners, farmers and warriors, it is expected that one might pick up a few things if not receiving proper tutoring from another.
Bushcraft (Apprentice) - Tracking, Shelter Building, Twine and Rope Making, Hunting-Gathering, survivalist skills
Carpentry (Expert)[size=small]Creation of tools, furniture, weapons and buildings from wood
Masonry (Apprentice)Creation of tools, furniture, weapons and buildings from stone

Besides these, he also has knowledge of dog/wolf breeding, taming and training, Key Harp Playing, linguistics, butchery, skinning, trapping, bowyery and fletchery and the practices of Pantheon Religions

Musics and Themes

Spoiler

Re: William Vaul - Hutchy - 19-02-2013

Backstory:

I - The Beginnings of a Northmark

I was born into an unremarkable family of carpenters and servants in the northernmost reaches of the world. Our settlement, we called it Long Night, was a small gathering of wooden longhouses surrounding a large bonfire, kept from setting the forest alight by an artisan, stone gazebo. The heat from that fire was incredible, even managing to heat the north's frigid cold. Long Night was in the midst of a densely forested region we knew as Fjord; Cold, wet and often foggy or snowy. We were dug in to avoid the cold of the harsh north and built to last, warm-- enough, and somewhat comfy, even for us poorer people. The Lucins couldn't have their workers chilled to the bone every night, could they? More on them later.
We were on the very edges of that forest and stretching out before it further to the north was the Tundra. A white ocean of flat, snow covered waste with some mountains visible on the horizon. These mountains became something of an icon of our beliefs in that anyone who set out that way, never came back, likely frozen to death. We came to believe that it was the seat of gods and those very few worthy an audience would make it through. Such was the distance from any other settlement, that we had almost never heard from another group of people in ages. It suited us just fine.
As for myself and my family, my Father worked as a carpenter before retirement and Mother was a maid in the Lucin garrison we were 'honoured' with in later years. I also had a cousin, Tavish, who, apart from being my role-model, moved between settlements offering employ as a cartographer and hunter. Most of my early childhood is a bit hazy; Iâve not got the best of memories but there is a strong recollection of wood chippings, the smell of pine and enough to get by and not go to bed starving every night.
Growing up in that simple household, we had to make the best of what we had; the situation did not improve even during the massive influx of work after the conclusion of the Veld War. Around eight years, I took to working with Father, managing to handle simple tasks, like repairing and making simple tools and furniture because, I'm not afraid to say, I wasn't the brightest kid. I didn't learn much from Mother's line of work, only how to behave 'properly' and speak like I 'belonged in a civilised society'.

It was also around this time that the Thane of our town came to my family. I wasn't allowed to hear what was said, kept locked up in my space by the Thane's personal guard. After some time, for a child eager to hear news anyway, they told me. They had the honour of raising one of a new group Northmarkin. Me. Both a blessing and a bane on my existence. This meant that for the next dozen years, I would be taken from my home every day and taught how to hunt, survive, fight and represent my people. I was overjoyed; other northmarkin before me were truly magnificent figures. I remembered fondly the day Northmark Indrik slew a Tundra Wurm with a broken sword and a door as a shield.
But, as my cousin told me, it wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Early on, I was tattooed with the traditional colours of the Northmark and branded on the back of both hands with both the Northmark emblem and motto and 'Sulena's Sigil'. Until the next major event of my town's quiet and traditional history, I was force fed month after month of etiquette, morals, skill and steel. At the time, I thought through the pain and regular beatings and brandings for my mistakes and sins it would all be worth it. That one day I'd be like Indrik, slaying tundra wurms and making my people proud. I wasn't wrong, things did change, but not for the better. Definitely not for the better.

Without much of a proper, general education, (A small settlement in the back end of nowhere, there wasn't much reason beyond learning your family's trade) I was able to focus on more specific skills; Carpentry like Father and, with my cousin nearby for the next few years, archery and survival in the wilds of the world. Many was the day I would practice my archery with Tavish when not working or training to be a Northmark, apparently showing some talent with a bow, more so than in other fields. I'm not so sure, myself. I'm fairly certain many can use a bow as well as I can. Three hours a day of shooting a target is good to keep your head clear and eyes sharp.
This would continue until I was 12, when the town, its people and my destiny was turned upside down by tall, pale men with blue, glowing eyes and blades drawn.

II - Rediscovery and The Day the Lucins Came

During my twelfth year, our town of Long Night started to get visitors. After a while, the unnatural fog that separated us from the other territories lifted and the trackless woodland became far easier to get through. From all over the northern territories, even Dark Meadow Keep and Solace Valley, interested in cultural heritage, tradition and our history of valiant Northmarkin and their deeds and our survival for so bloody long. It was good to see that we were finally being taken back into the reaches of others, like family who had seen one another in ages. There were festivities, laughter, fun... and xenophobic murder.

News began to spread, by word of mouth, that war was raging in the south. To begin with, we were concerned that the Lucins would try and take us unawares, being a secluded area and in a climate they preferred it was only logical to think they would. It didn't seem realistic to think that another group would try it, being as far out as we were and we had a few strong neighbors. The only credible threat was the Lucins. As time went by, the tension slowly eased off and, in our infinite naivety, believed that war would not spread to our land. How wrong we were.
Indrik fell first. He came home to us, battered and bloodied, barely even lucid as he rode into the centre of Long Night limply on the back of his steed. He died before he even made it to the apothecary. At first, we pointed fingers wildly in our grief, accusing our neighbors and asking questions which, soon, pushed them away, fearing that we would declare war with those we once called brother and sister. Again, how wrong we were. We realized our mistake in the same week, when tall, pale men in armour of gleaming silver, blue and gold filigree came with weapons high.
Without warning, the platoon-or-so men-at-arms still defended us were caught in a simple noose and strangled. We offered no challenge to the Lucins' superior force and powers, especially not in the amplifying conditions of our climate. There were rumours that our defenders hit the lucins first, but no one could be sure. Or they were just too embarrassed to tell the rest of us that they set us up for some bad days.
So, with the skirmish over, townsfolk were rounded up and the surviving men-at-arms lined up. They, and a few defenseless people, old, young and weak were 'made an example of' and the thoroughfare through the centre of Long Night was coloured an interesting new colour called 'Hint of Northman-Blood'. As luck would have it, my family was mostly untouched by this sacking, but people I'd known all my life before weren't so lucky and they were never the same. Which, as you can imagine, is where my dislike of those... things comes from.
With that, our Thane was replaced with stricter laws imposed by our new leaders in the Lucins. They managed the settlement, oversaw our production for the coming years and, of course, garrisoned the settlement and claimed a hefty chunk of the surrounding territory. They let us have some of our lives in exchange for our labour.
Soon after, lumber mills and workshops sprung up all through the surrounding woods, laying claim to huge areas of woodland to fuel the demands of their effort to keep the peace among the Mesalian groups. I worked in one of those workshops myself, crafting tools or using what was made in the smiths into usable weapons. My family werenât the worst off, so we had something good going for us, I suppose.
Anyway, no, I wasn't keen on those glow-ey buggers, the Lucins. I've seen people worked to death in forges and treated to corporeal punishment disproportionate to their crime. And they thought it was good that I had blue eyes "Oh, maybe they'll like you a little more than the rest of us". Pah. Bloodthirsty maniacs with no respect for anyone but one of their own number. Not exactly the best managers either.
There was some sense of safety though, with them around. None of us 'little people' would pick a fight with them and, as much as I hate to say it, those other ones, the Xitians I think, weren't going to go after a territory cold and wet like ours for a while, if ever.

Re: William Vaul - Hutchy - 19-02-2013

Personality and Humanity

William can be described as a violent thug, a brutal killer and a torturer, almost as dangerous as a Mesalian can be. He has shown to be able to kill his enemies with a noteworthy and even carefree brutality, earning him his infamous reputation. Following the pilgrimage, he dedicated himself to working himself ragged and guarding the people he has become a part of. Because of this he has accumulated valuable knowledge of the city, it's surrounding area and the creatures and beasts living therein. This, and his less than happy past, likely contributed to his experience as a hardened survivalist.

He is known to, despite his apathy, become extremely dedicated to those he has forced himself to protect, using most means possible to keep them sheltered, fed and safe. As is befitting of a man of his profession, he is, when called to be, as patient as a saint and is capable of extreme feats of foolhardy courage, even putting himself in the way of danger so others can go on. he acts solely for the greater good of the group, anything else, even his own life, is of secondary importance.

However, his lighter side is also oft portrayed. The death of his love, loss of many friends and faith in himself and his convictions, have changed him into an apathetic, ruthless and melancholy man. He wears the necklace his love wore around his wrist, tied skin tight, to act as an ever-present reminder of his failure to protect her and the other duties he has also failed to see completed in those years.

Positive Traits:

Learns quickly
Remembers damn near everything, even every mistake he's made
Acutely honed senses of smell, sight and hearing
Next to no fear of death, actually inviting near-death experiences

Neutral Traits:

Depersonalization - Usually brought on by periods of turbulent emotional response, i.e Fear, angst, stress etc. Characterized by numbing of senses and 'out of body' experiences.
Prefers cold and temperate climates, absolutely hates deserts and rainforests.
Hates Lucins and Xitians to the brink of hostility, but upbringing stops him being open about it.
Literally cannot function without some goal, a leading influence or guiding hand, visible through his willingness to take on almost any job.
Strong constitution and willpower
High pain threshold

Negative Traits:

Prone to loud, angry outbursts and equally bouts of melancholia
Debilitating, irrational fear of slimes or, as he calls them, 'the green, jumpy things' - Blennophobia
Fear of reflective surfaces - Catoptrophobia
Traumatized
Frequent, recurrent nightmares
Deathwish

Body Language and behavior

Stands with almost perfect posture, neck up and shoulders back. Often adopts a defensive stance, not because he is afraid or paranoid, but rather as a subtle warning to anyone who might make a move, he keeps his posture and either folds his arms or rests his hands on the handles of his hatchets.
He walks, not with swagger or anything of the like, but a purposeful stride with expertly drilled and honed movement and muscular memory. He'd either walk with hands on hatchets, again, or with his hands linked behind him.
There isn't much you can get from how his eyes move or react, seeing as they hardly ever change. They do, however look tired and half-closed, but often open up in the right circumstances.
Unless in a conversation or as a reaction, his expression would be flat or seem hollow.

In a fight, he is nothing short of a human personification of a wolf pack, using a more refined and deadly style, unexpected of those who see northmen as backward or barbaric. He doesn't fight to win, he fights to hurt, to maim and to kill.
His stance is usually a defensive manner, circling the foe, observing, strategising and defending with his war axes or simple dodges and counters, waiting for an opening. Once that chance is revealed, he pounces, digging into the foe's defences and forcing them into a corner with relentless precision and brutality, then comes the kill. Despite his laws and code, he is nothing short of ferocious, bloody and isn't above brawling and fighting dirty to achieve victory.

Relations and Acquaintances {POV}

Chartha- The Cook: Prickly and argumentative, but... not entirely unreasonable.

Dalton- The Idiot: Gods, New and Old, help us. The man with less brains in him than some Dusk is in a position of power.

Dusken- The Jeweler: Called me a friend. How I can be described as such these days is beyond me. Jumps me with the occasional, awkward hug that... I just stand there. Like the useless sack of meat and bone I am.

Elizabeth- The Engineer: A very close friend of mine. She helped me in Ravenna, now it's my turn to help her, any way I can. I owe her that much.

Lyrxi- The Calm: I haven't seen him around much. I've seen him alone even less. He is almost always in the company of Dusken. I swear, he's somehow glued his hand to hers...

Mathias- The Smith: Another northman. Haven't spoken to him much, but... in his words, 'We colossals have to stick together'.

Mercedes- The Mason: My co-worker. Good thing she's here, I couldn't make shit with that clay goop. Not a bad person either, good talker.

Nerissa- The Love: There's nothing else for it. I love her, more than anyone or anything else. I'd do anything for her.

Orvich- The Kiss-up: I swear, she's been brainwashed by Dalton.

Thomas- The Arrogant Youth: I doubt he even realises the hurt he put on Elizabeth. Kid can rot.

Tybalt- The 'Stoic Hound': He's getting on. Seems to have mellowed out over the last few months, become more friendly. More of a pet and less of a hunting dog.

Victor- The bar-tipper: He so much as looks at Nerissa wrong again, I will murder him.

Zarkaylia- The Other new Mayor: Haven't even seen her in months.

Dead, Left or Missing

Re: William Vaul - Hutchy - 28-02-2013

Hoorah for first update on nw forum.

Relations, skills, goals and small details.

The Backstory is being expanded on and will be posted as I finish it.

Re: William Vaul - Hutchy - 02-03-2013

In all seriousness, reformatted here and there, small changes and trimmed the fat.