Name: Rumndumm Ironheart
Age: 27
Gender: Female
Skills:
Mining: Advanced
Foraging: Apprentice
Items brought along:
Stonefire-grade steel pickaxe (Diamond Pickaxe)
Cast iron pot (Cauldron)
Spherical Lantern (Redstone Lamp)
Gilbert will likely be leaving soon, so this is more or less still going to be my second character by the time this gets approved.
Age: 27
Gender: Female
Skills:
Mining: Advanced
- She knows the ins and outs of mining, the dangers of it, and how to proficiently extract ores from the earth by minimizing those dangers. She knows her way around a mine, even without her light, and can typically come out unscathed.
Foraging: Apprentice
- As all children of Fogstone are trained to do, Rumny can figure out general edible plants out in the field. Moreover, she knows how to harvest insects and bugs that are safe to eat.
![[+]](/images/collapse_collapsed.png "[+]")
Spoiler
Appearance:
Rumny dons nothing fancy. Considering that she's from Fogstone, and is a miner, she isn't all that bothered about appearances, as long as she doesn't look like a complete drab. A baggy pair of tough trousers, and a simple shirt that once was white. Over her shirt she wears a leather vest, rimmed with gold at the rims. Trailing from her waist is a chain that falls from a spherical lamp that acts like a pulley for the chain, with windows on all four horizontal planes.
As for her person, she keeps her flaky and slightly gray hair short, and keeps it a bird's nest by holding it up with a pair of goggles. Her steel blue eyes are penetrating and sharp, but the rest of her face that never seems to have frowned once keep her countenance from looking fierce. Her build isn't broad and muscular, but her slight frame packs some years of labor under it. Standing tall at 6 feet and 4 inches, but usually hunched over from habit, she is quite the sight when she slowly lumbers around the streets.
Rumny dons nothing fancy. Considering that she's from Fogstone, and is a miner, she isn't all that bothered about appearances, as long as she doesn't look like a complete drab. A baggy pair of tough trousers, and a simple shirt that once was white. Over her shirt she wears a leather vest, rimmed with gold at the rims. Trailing from her waist is a chain that falls from a spherical lamp that acts like a pulley for the chain, with windows on all four horizontal planes.
As for her person, she keeps her flaky and slightly gray hair short, and keeps it a bird's nest by holding it up with a pair of goggles. Her steel blue eyes are penetrating and sharp, but the rest of her face that never seems to have frowned once keep her countenance from looking fierce. Her build isn't broad and muscular, but her slight frame packs some years of labor under it. Standing tall at 6 feet and 4 inches, but usually hunched over from habit, she is quite the sight when she slowly lumbers around the streets.
Personality:
Rumny is quite the Fogstone material, and is very much representative of the Ironheart clan. If the Stonefire's are a bunch of jolly giants, the Ironhearts are a bunch of serene, content bricks. Rumny isn't really the serious type, but she isn't really the all out happy type either. She laughs often, and isn't standoffish, but everything about her is quite slow-paced.
If I had to make yet another analogy, I had imagined the Stonefires to be like dwarfs, and the Ironhearts to be like stone giants.
She'll rumble along, never in a hurry, and will happily stop to chat for a minute or two. She's quite complacent when faced with conflict as well, but cross the line and she'll be rampaging like an elephant stabbed in the behind, and years of doing nothing but mining and lugging several times her weight of ores around make her quite the danger when she's mad.
Rumny is quite the Fogstone material, and is very much representative of the Ironheart clan. If the Stonefire's are a bunch of jolly giants, the Ironhearts are a bunch of serene, content bricks. Rumny isn't really the serious type, but she isn't really the all out happy type either. She laughs often, and isn't standoffish, but everything about her is quite slow-paced.
If I had to make yet another analogy, I had imagined the Stonefires to be like dwarfs, and the Ironhearts to be like stone giants.
She'll rumble along, never in a hurry, and will happily stop to chat for a minute or two. She's quite complacent when faced with conflict as well, but cross the line and she'll be rampaging like an elephant stabbed in the behind, and years of doing nothing but mining and lugging several times her weight of ores around make her quite the danger when she's mad.
Backstory:
“Make sure the letter gets to her alright, you hear?”
Mittendri, the fifth offspring of the lately diseased chieftain of Fogstone was more authoritative than usual. She was as cheery about it as she always has been, but somehow, she managed to fit in a tone of authority under the cheery tones. A trait unique to the Stonefires, the twin clan of the Ironhearts; Rumndumm herself probably wouldn’t be able to imitate such mannerism.
That had been weeks ago. Apparently, Mitty had overestimated her ability to find her way above ground. Rumny herself was surprised at how utterly lost she got the moment she set off on her trip. She could remember every nook and cranny of the mines back home. She could be taken underground blind-folded and still manage to find her way back. Heck, she was better at it than some of the older Ironhearts to whom the mines were as familiar as the back of their hands. That was probably what Mitty was banking on too, that her navigation skills, so to speak, would make it possible for Rumny to make it to Auria on time for the wedding.
The fire by her feet crackled and fizzed. The evening air was chilly, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t bear. She threw in a bunch of dried branches she had collected earlier in the day, and watched her stew boil. The thick murky liquid reminded her of molten iron, with bubbles that grew as large as apples before bursting with a hiss of steam.
Well there was no point in getting anxious over whether she’d arrive late; she didn’t know her way around on the surface and there wasn't anyone around to help her out, so she might as well as enjoy her stew. She would have gladly shared her delicious stew with any travelers in exchange for directions, but maybe outsiders didn’t like living on mountains or traveling on them for that matter. She didn’t understand why though. It certainly didn’t compare to a crystal cavern, with prisms reflecting beams of light from her lantern in all directions, casting dazzling shadows across all surfaces, but the view from the top of the mountain wasn’t so bad. She could see for miles. There was a river that cut through a forest, so full of trees so green and lush, it reminded her of refined emeralds.
She recalled the first time she had mined up emeralds. She had been 6, and had just recently started following her father down into the mines. She hadn’t been allowed a pickaxe, because she wasn’t strong enough to wield one just yet, but her father, Terrmouse, had given her a chisel to work with. And chiseled she did, the Ironheart blood was true in her bloodstream, and she was digging for hours, picking out anything that wasn't rock and dirt to show her father or her mother, or well, anyone who was in the vicinity.
Her father always said it was a stroke of luck that she found the emerald vein. But her mother always said it was pure talent, from her side of the family of course. But whichever the case may have been, the memory of finding that dull green crystal in the cracks that no one had bothered to peek through have always been a lasting one.
Enthralled with such sense of achievement at such a young age, she never could leave the mines since. Every other task that children of her age were given, she dealt with as quickly as she could possibly manage so that she could go spelunking. She spent days after days underground, and sometimes spent nights there too, chatting about different kinds of ores and minerals with the other children who were as obsessed as she was. Needless to say, she was one of the earliest miners to get their lamps unique to those of age in the Ironheart clan. At the age of 14, she was already rearing up to get her pickaxe on some rocks, and was loving every moment of it. She didn't have any interest in boys or anything that would be typical to a girl of her age. Her parents weren't worried though. After all, they were Ironhearts.
Saying that, she wasn't affected much by events in history either. The civil wars and even the Dusk portal reopening were just talk from the outside. With Fogstone maintaining its neutral position in the civil wars and the natural barriers of the town that have proven to be quite effective in deterring the Xitians, there wasn't much about them that bothered Rumny, at least not nearly as much as the passing of Arkantur of the Fire, the late chieftain who had been chief for as long as she could remember. The entire town wept that day, and Rumny was no exception.
Rumny began to be more laid back around the age of 18. Much akin to the characteristics of the Ironheart clan, she became more relaxed and composed. There was a certain sense of serenity in the rather repetitive actions of raising a pick and bringing it down on ore veins. And sleeping deep underground, where the immensity of the earth was felt more directly, she grew to appreciate the silence as much as the rumblings. Perhaps she did so more than the others, but each and every Ironheart would tell you the exact same thing.
And like each and every Ironheart, and every other Fogstonian before her, Rumny was ready for her send off at the age of 22, well, perhaps not as ready as everyone else had been. She had been picked by Mittendri one day, and was given a letter, a bag of gold, and a direction. That was it, but hey, that was enough.
Maybe not quite enough though, thought Rumny. She had misplaced the bag of gold, and had completely lost her sense of direction. She only had the letter now, and the names Auria, Zarkaylia, and Nightveil to work with.
The stew started bubbling more intensely, occasionally spurting hot liquids over the pot. She removed it from the fire and set it aside on a flat boulder to let it cool a bit. The clear and chilly air of the mountaintops quickly cooled the stew, but she decided to let it simmer for a bit longer as she tucked herself in more snugly beside the fire.
She remembered the first time when her house burned down, she slept like that too with her entire family, snuggled up next to a roaring fire that used to be their home. Nobody knew how the fire started, but that wasn't really important; casks of booze were brought out, and more fuel was added to the fire and the entire town had erupted into a cheerful and spontaneous festival. She was only nine at the time, but that did not stop her from enjoying the festival as much as the adults did. The house was rebuilt in days, as the foundations were intact, but she recalled feeling rather wistful at the house being built so quickly. It meant that the fun was over, and she had to wait for the next festival, which, as was customary in Fogstone, could happen as early as the next day, or as late as the next month. She never could understand how people who lived outside could bear to go for weeks without having had a single festival. She could still mine, though she missed the festivals back home, maybe that was how people coped, by working, but she could not help but think that those people outside lived a very boring life.
A very boring, and a conflict ridden one as well. Apparently people did not eat bugs outside of Fogstone, and they fought over gold. Sometimes they even ended up killing each other. There were plenty of fights back in Fogstone as well, but at least nobody died over it. Her mother would often fight with her father, not with words like most couples she saw outside of her town, but with fists and lots of shouting. They had a good go for days, but they would always make up and laugh about it. She herself fought quite often with her brothers and sisters as well, but those fights had also ended with laughter as well.
There was that one time when two boys of her age had come to her house to propose to her. Once they realized they were rivals, they started fighting by the front door. Her family, and other townsfolk that were nearby had gathered and placed bets. It had ended up with the winner being rejected by her, and the two going off arms over shoulders, laughing about the whole ordeal. In contrast, there was another scene in a town she passed by where the loser, his eyes black and puffy, stabbed the winner in the back, much to the horror of the woman they were proposing to. There were no bets there, nor were there any laughter.
The outside world was a terrible place, but it was just as exciting and interesting. Except for ships, there was nothing exciting and interesting about ships. Being stuck in a wooden contraption open to the wrath of the ocean for days on end and no mining to do to boot! Several more weeks had passed since she left Fogstone, and she finally managed to find her way to the port and also find a ship to get her across. It was horrible, but it was the quickest way from the Mainland to the Forbidden Lands, and she did have to make up for her being so very much late. The captain said that it would be a short journey, and she could only hope that her torment would soon end and let her feet touch land once more.
“Make sure the letter gets to her alright, you hear?”
Mittendri, the fifth offspring of the lately diseased chieftain of Fogstone was more authoritative than usual. She was as cheery about it as she always has been, but somehow, she managed to fit in a tone of authority under the cheery tones. A trait unique to the Stonefires, the twin clan of the Ironhearts; Rumndumm herself probably wouldn’t be able to imitate such mannerism.
That had been weeks ago. Apparently, Mitty had overestimated her ability to find her way above ground. Rumny herself was surprised at how utterly lost she got the moment she set off on her trip. She could remember every nook and cranny of the mines back home. She could be taken underground blind-folded and still manage to find her way back. Heck, she was better at it than some of the older Ironhearts to whom the mines were as familiar as the back of their hands. That was probably what Mitty was banking on too, that her navigation skills, so to speak, would make it possible for Rumny to make it to Auria on time for the wedding.
The fire by her feet crackled and fizzed. The evening air was chilly, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t bear. She threw in a bunch of dried branches she had collected earlier in the day, and watched her stew boil. The thick murky liquid reminded her of molten iron, with bubbles that grew as large as apples before bursting with a hiss of steam.
Well there was no point in getting anxious over whether she’d arrive late; she didn’t know her way around on the surface and there wasn't anyone around to help her out, so she might as well as enjoy her stew. She would have gladly shared her delicious stew with any travelers in exchange for directions, but maybe outsiders didn’t like living on mountains or traveling on them for that matter. She didn’t understand why though. It certainly didn’t compare to a crystal cavern, with prisms reflecting beams of light from her lantern in all directions, casting dazzling shadows across all surfaces, but the view from the top of the mountain wasn’t so bad. She could see for miles. There was a river that cut through a forest, so full of trees so green and lush, it reminded her of refined emeralds.
She recalled the first time she had mined up emeralds. She had been 6, and had just recently started following her father down into the mines. She hadn’t been allowed a pickaxe, because she wasn’t strong enough to wield one just yet, but her father, Terrmouse, had given her a chisel to work with. And chiseled she did, the Ironheart blood was true in her bloodstream, and she was digging for hours, picking out anything that wasn't rock and dirt to show her father or her mother, or well, anyone who was in the vicinity.
Her father always said it was a stroke of luck that she found the emerald vein. But her mother always said it was pure talent, from her side of the family of course. But whichever the case may have been, the memory of finding that dull green crystal in the cracks that no one had bothered to peek through have always been a lasting one.
Enthralled with such sense of achievement at such a young age, she never could leave the mines since. Every other task that children of her age were given, she dealt with as quickly as she could possibly manage so that she could go spelunking. She spent days after days underground, and sometimes spent nights there too, chatting about different kinds of ores and minerals with the other children who were as obsessed as she was. Needless to say, she was one of the earliest miners to get their lamps unique to those of age in the Ironheart clan. At the age of 14, she was already rearing up to get her pickaxe on some rocks, and was loving every moment of it. She didn't have any interest in boys or anything that would be typical to a girl of her age. Her parents weren't worried though. After all, they were Ironhearts.
Saying that, she wasn't affected much by events in history either. The civil wars and even the Dusk portal reopening were just talk from the outside. With Fogstone maintaining its neutral position in the civil wars and the natural barriers of the town that have proven to be quite effective in deterring the Xitians, there wasn't much about them that bothered Rumny, at least not nearly as much as the passing of Arkantur of the Fire, the late chieftain who had been chief for as long as she could remember. The entire town wept that day, and Rumny was no exception.
Rumny began to be more laid back around the age of 18. Much akin to the characteristics of the Ironheart clan, she became more relaxed and composed. There was a certain sense of serenity in the rather repetitive actions of raising a pick and bringing it down on ore veins. And sleeping deep underground, where the immensity of the earth was felt more directly, she grew to appreciate the silence as much as the rumblings. Perhaps she did so more than the others, but each and every Ironheart would tell you the exact same thing.
And like each and every Ironheart, and every other Fogstonian before her, Rumny was ready for her send off at the age of 22, well, perhaps not as ready as everyone else had been. She had been picked by Mittendri one day, and was given a letter, a bag of gold, and a direction. That was it, but hey, that was enough.
Maybe not quite enough though, thought Rumny. She had misplaced the bag of gold, and had completely lost her sense of direction. She only had the letter now, and the names Auria, Zarkaylia, and Nightveil to work with.
The stew started bubbling more intensely, occasionally spurting hot liquids over the pot. She removed it from the fire and set it aside on a flat boulder to let it cool a bit. The clear and chilly air of the mountaintops quickly cooled the stew, but she decided to let it simmer for a bit longer as she tucked herself in more snugly beside the fire.
She remembered the first time when her house burned down, she slept like that too with her entire family, snuggled up next to a roaring fire that used to be their home. Nobody knew how the fire started, but that wasn't really important; casks of booze were brought out, and more fuel was added to the fire and the entire town had erupted into a cheerful and spontaneous festival. She was only nine at the time, but that did not stop her from enjoying the festival as much as the adults did. The house was rebuilt in days, as the foundations were intact, but she recalled feeling rather wistful at the house being built so quickly. It meant that the fun was over, and she had to wait for the next festival, which, as was customary in Fogstone, could happen as early as the next day, or as late as the next month. She never could understand how people who lived outside could bear to go for weeks without having had a single festival. She could still mine, though she missed the festivals back home, maybe that was how people coped, by working, but she could not help but think that those people outside lived a very boring life.
A very boring, and a conflict ridden one as well. Apparently people did not eat bugs outside of Fogstone, and they fought over gold. Sometimes they even ended up killing each other. There were plenty of fights back in Fogstone as well, but at least nobody died over it. Her mother would often fight with her father, not with words like most couples she saw outside of her town, but with fists and lots of shouting. They had a good go for days, but they would always make up and laugh about it. She herself fought quite often with her brothers and sisters as well, but those fights had also ended with laughter as well.
There was that one time when two boys of her age had come to her house to propose to her. Once they realized they were rivals, they started fighting by the front door. Her family, and other townsfolk that were nearby had gathered and placed bets. It had ended up with the winner being rejected by her, and the two going off arms over shoulders, laughing about the whole ordeal. In contrast, there was another scene in a town she passed by where the loser, his eyes black and puffy, stabbed the winner in the back, much to the horror of the woman they were proposing to. There were no bets there, nor were there any laughter.
The outside world was a terrible place, but it was just as exciting and interesting. Except for ships, there was nothing exciting and interesting about ships. Being stuck in a wooden contraption open to the wrath of the ocean for days on end and no mining to do to boot! Several more weeks had passed since she left Fogstone, and she finally managed to find her way to the port and also find a ship to get her across. It was horrible, but it was the quickest way from the Mainland to the Forbidden Lands, and she did have to make up for her being so very much late. The captain said that it would be a short journey, and she could only hope that her torment would soon end and let her feet touch land once more.
Stonefire-grade steel pickaxe (Diamond Pickaxe)
Cast iron pot (Cauldron)
Spherical Lantern (Redstone Lamp)
Gilbert will likely be leaving soon, so this is more or less still going to be my second character by the time this gets approved.