Post by Gerhard Raeddegson on May 26, 2010 5:38:03 GMT
Name: Gerhard Raeddegson
Age: 41
Sex: Male
Class: Noble in his homelands, but Citizen in Camelot
Appearance: Gerhard is a bear of a man, at 6 foot 2 and weighing in over 215 pounds. Although some signs of age are starting to show on him, he clearly still maintains the physique of a warrior. His long reddish brown hair, now streaked with silver and grey, is usually worn braided, and his thick beard surrounds his constant grin. Covered in scars of battle, he has clearly lived a life of combat.
One characteristic of note though is the fact that Gerhard is usually seen grinning. Whether drinking in an ale house or hacking through the field of combat, Gerhard is always grinning or smiling, and often laughing. Although this may seem to be the sign of a carefree or jovial man, more often it tends to suggest a slight madness.
Gerhard's armour and weapons are of good quality, not fancy, and clearly made for function over style. His chain and leather brynja settles over him like a second skin, and his shield is most often slung casually across his back, along with his Frisian breidox
axe. On his belt he wears two Fankish throwing axes across the back of his right hip, and a seaxe on his left hip.
Played by Stellen Skarsgaard
Character: Gerhard is a true product of decades of battle. Like most of the germanics from where he comes, he seeks nothing more than glory in battle. As he grows older, he knows that his chances of glory are becoming fewer with each passing winter.
Some may say that Gerhard is mad, battle crazed. And perhaps there is some truth to that. But as he begins to see the end of his days, he grows more desperate for the final glorious battle, the one that will be sung of, and in which he will be remembered for generations to come. And so he takes greater risks, pushes himself harder, all in the hopes of his epic final days.
It is for this reason he has come to Camelot, seeking Elizabeth Severn. Having served in the warbands of both her grandfather and her father, he now hopes that in her service he can find the heroic end he knows he has little time left to fulfill.
Strengths :
- Skilled warrior and combatant
- Single minded drive, allowing him to push on through most things to reach whatever goal he sets himself to.
- Fearless in combat
- Good ability to appraise the quality of weapons and armour (through his own experience, though no actual smithing skills)
Weaknesses :
- Obsessed with dying gloriously in combat
- Cannot back down from a challenge, regardless of the chance of success
- Possesses no real courtly social skills. Is rude, blunt, and straight forward to a point of being offensive to some
- Illiterate
Magic: Absolutely none. Gerhard believes that magic has its place, just not with him. Although he wouldn't refuse healing, he sees the use of magic in combat cowardly and weak.
Weaponry Skills:
Frisian breidox - heavy, 4 foot crescent bladed axe with a sharpened horn on top and bottom of the blade, and a half back.
Frankish throwing axe - short handled balanced axe, designed for throwing but equally effective as a hand weapon.
Seaxe - single edged long bladed knife.
Shield - three feet across and edged in iron, capable of delivering crippling blows in a pinch.
Bow - can use one for hunting, but refuses to use it for combat, seeing it as a weapon of the weak.
Character History:
Gerhard’s father Raeddeg was a proud, powerful man, a warlord within the Frisian lands wedged tightly between the Frankish and Saxon nations. Like most Frisians, he was a stout warrior, expert sailor, and fearless man. However, he was also a shrewd man, one who knew that while plunder and raiding could make a man rich and powerful, so too could trade and commerce. But while most Frisians saw their hall as their family, other Frisian halls as competitors, and all non-Frisians as enemies, Raeddeg saw all men as equal targets, Frisian, Frank and Saxon, to be raided when possible, traded with when profitable, and allied with when necessary. It was for this reason that he took Fredegunda, the daughter of a Frankish chieftain, as his wife, to attempt to strengthen ties with those who may someday become a necessary ally.
It was to this odd mixed coupling of a Frisian warrior and a Frankish woman that Gerhard was born. Raised among the peoples of his father, Raeddeg, he grew up in the far north-eastern coastlands of the Frisian lands. Here, he learned to sail, to fight, and to distrust his father. By the age of 11, he had already proven himself to be a strong, effective, and deadly warrior. He had learned the comfort of armour and shield, mastered the Frisian breidox, the great broad axe, but unlike the other warriors, in place of a spear he carried two Frankish throwing axes, weapons appropriated from his mother’s people. And as such he began travelling with his father’s warband during raids. Learning to sail, he joined them as they ventured further east into the lands of the Saxons, raiding all along the coast. And with each raid, the warband ventured farther along the coast, and stayed away from their homes for longer times. Raeddeg also began leaving fewer and fewer warriors behind at the hall, believing that the spoils he traded to his Frisian neighbours served as a guarantee of protection from attack, and even feeling safe from the Franks due to his marriage to Fredegunda. By 14, Gerhard felt no amount of raiding would prove the worth of his father as a true warrior, and even among his own warband whispers had begun that the freewheeling approach Raeddeg had taken to buying safety and allies was the act of a coward. Feeling the growing dissent among his men, Raeddeg decided to winter at home, and attempt to rebuild his reputation. However, this was not to be.
During one long winters night, following another feast thrown by Raeddeg in an effort to flaunt his status as a man of wealth and power, a Frankish tribe attacked Raeddeg’s lands. With many of his own men already drunk, the Frisians barely managed to fend off the attack, but at terrible losses. Raeddeg himself fell that night, though Gerhard suspected that it was not the blade of a Fankish attacker that had ended his life, but the seaxe of his own mother. However, he still saw this as an opportunity. With his father dead, he was now the heir to the tribe, and as chieftain, would return his people to their true ways, the ways of the fierce warriors their ancestors had been. But this was not to be. In the days that followed the attack, his mother began to spread rumours that it was in fact he who had allied with the Franks, and had arranged the attack to have his father killed. That she could not prove it was the only thing that stopped her from openly making the charge against him, but the rumours alone were enough. The damage was done, and the warriors would not follow him. With so few of the tribe’s warriors left, and even among those, even fewer he could trust, Gerhard found himself an outcast among his own people. The following day, he left, and never returned to Frisian lands.
Equipped only with what weapons and armour he could gather, and a single horse, he headed north east, carefully picking his way through the lands of the Saxons hoping to make his way into the lands of the Angles and the Jutes. The plan was simple. Find a lord, one truly worthy of serving, and join his warband. In this way, he hoped to reclaim the fame and glory that he believed the true legacy of his people. Uninterested in reclaiming his lands, or ever leading a warband himself, he sought only to serve a warlord who would offer him the opportunity to face battle with honour, courage, and the ferocity of combat he had come to embrace. By age 18, he had found that man in Grymwode Severn. Attaching himself to the warband, he travelled north to aid in Grymwode’s efforts to reclaim his lands. It was here that he met Uhtred Einarson, and the two formed the basis for their friendship. For decades, the two fought together in the warbands of Grymwode, and Carven. But like his friend, in his later years, Gerhard grew anxious for one last battle, one last great and bloody assault.
Now, like Uhtred, Gerhard has left the hall of Carven, and decided to make his way to Camelot, to find fame and honour and if possible a glorious death in the service of Elizabeth, Carven’s daughter. And though the two travelled by different routes, he knows that they will meet again, either in Camelot, or for a grand feast in the halls of the afterlife.
Additional Information:
Sample Roleplay:
The salt spray splashed against Gerhard’s face, frothing around the sides of his grinning mouth. No sooner had the first scrapes of hull against pebble begun when the Frisian launched himself over the snekkje’s railing and landed knee deep in the surf. The Saxons no doubt knew they were coming, and were already along the beach ready and waiting. All the better. Combat was to be fought face to face, not skulking around like a coward.
As Gerhard charged towards land, the arrows first came. Shield up, head down, he barrelled in. Arrows slammed against his shield, one slicing along his thigh. He fumbled with the crossbow his father had insisted they all carry. To the hels with this machine. Refusing to give up his shield, and unable to manoeuvre the crossbow one handed, he decided to simply toss it away. Reaching for one of the Frankish axes on his belt, he readied to hurl it at the first Saxon in range. Without even raising the shield, pivoting on one heel, twisting at the hip, he launched the axe under the bottom of the shield rim. The axe slammed into the knee of the Saxon, taking his leg out from under him. Gerhard continued the run, slamming the shield rim into the man’s face, finishing him off. Reaching behind his shoulder, he drew his breidox and charged on.
Crashing into the next Saxon in his path, Gerhard found himself slam to a halt. Shield to shield, the two warriors shoved against one another, boots digging into the wet sand. Grinning wildly, all Gerhard could think is that this is what life is all about. Grunting and spitting, he shoved with all his might. Gaining just enough advantage to press his opponent back slightly, he underhand swung his axe, severing the foot just above the ankle. As the man fell, Gerhard twisted his wrist, reversed the swing, and brought the axe down on the man’s helmet, caving in the metal with a wet crunch and a spray of blood. Laughing as he straightened, he turned to search out the next opponent.
Seeing two Saxons coming towards him, Gerhard hunched forward, his grin spreading further, and tightened his grip on his shield. Spearmen. Excellent. Close the distance, make the range more appropriate for an axe than a spear, take their advantage. Charging like a bull, he closed. One Saxon’s spear glanced off of his helmet, slicing chain links and strap, and opening a gash along his cheek. The other lodged into his hip. The pain seared through him, driving his fury, and in his blood rage, he fought on. In a full swing, he smashed the rim of his shield into one Saxon’s face, shattering his cheek. The blow also drove his helmet into his nose, breaking it. The blood would blind him and keep him out of the fight long enough for Gerhard to finish the other man. Side step out of the way of the spear thrust, the pain in his thigh driving him on, roll the shoulder, full reverse swing, and drive the horn of the blade into his groin.
As the Saxon fell, Gerhard turned to the last warrior, unfortunately a moment late. The Saxon had cleared his vision and rejoined the fight. With his shield already lowered, and the wounds starting to take their toll, even in the full grip of the rage, Gerhard was too slow to avoid the spear tip. All he could do was hope the chain brynja would prevent the wound from being fatal. As the spear blade drove into his shoulder, snapping iron links and tearing through the gambeson below. Releasing his grip on his shield, and grabbing hold of the spear shaft, Gerhard plunged the blade deeper, digging into his own shoulder, but pulling the Saxon off balance. Having lost his balance, he had no chance to raise his shield in time to block the vicious swipe of the breidox as it hacked into his hip, slicing flesh and breaking bone. As the man fell, Gerhard pulled the spear from his shoulder and drove it deep into its owner’s chest.
Seeing no more Saxons on the beach, Gerhard fell to his knees in the wet sand, the wounds beginning to get the better of him. Looking across the beach, he began to laugh. Hearing the heavy trod of boots in the sand, he turned to look up at his father. As Gerhard laughed, his father looked down at him, a frown on his face. “Gods, boy, ye fight well, but ye look like a stuck pig. And what’s so damn funny?â€
Gerhard grinned and pointed along the beach to where the broken remains of his crossbow lay, stepped on and struck by a stray axe swing. Laughing long and hard, Gerhard barely managed to choke out “Sorry, father, but I think I broke your toy bow.â€
[Optional] OOC Section:
Name: Brian
Location: Toronto, Canada
How long have you been RPing for: Too many years to remember
Age: 41
Sex: Male
Class: Noble in his homelands, but Citizen in Camelot
Appearance: Gerhard is a bear of a man, at 6 foot 2 and weighing in over 215 pounds. Although some signs of age are starting to show on him, he clearly still maintains the physique of a warrior. His long reddish brown hair, now streaked with silver and grey, is usually worn braided, and his thick beard surrounds his constant grin. Covered in scars of battle, he has clearly lived a life of combat.
One characteristic of note though is the fact that Gerhard is usually seen grinning. Whether drinking in an ale house or hacking through the field of combat, Gerhard is always grinning or smiling, and often laughing. Although this may seem to be the sign of a carefree or jovial man, more often it tends to suggest a slight madness.
Gerhard's armour and weapons are of good quality, not fancy, and clearly made for function over style. His chain and leather brynja settles over him like a second skin, and his shield is most often slung casually across his back, along with his Frisian breidox
axe. On his belt he wears two Fankish throwing axes across the back of his right hip, and a seaxe on his left hip.
Played by Stellen Skarsgaard
Character: Gerhard is a true product of decades of battle. Like most of the germanics from where he comes, he seeks nothing more than glory in battle. As he grows older, he knows that his chances of glory are becoming fewer with each passing winter.
Some may say that Gerhard is mad, battle crazed. And perhaps there is some truth to that. But as he begins to see the end of his days, he grows more desperate for the final glorious battle, the one that will be sung of, and in which he will be remembered for generations to come. And so he takes greater risks, pushes himself harder, all in the hopes of his epic final days.
It is for this reason he has come to Camelot, seeking Elizabeth Severn. Having served in the warbands of both her grandfather and her father, he now hopes that in her service he can find the heroic end he knows he has little time left to fulfill.
Strengths :
- Skilled warrior and combatant
- Single minded drive, allowing him to push on through most things to reach whatever goal he sets himself to.
- Fearless in combat
- Good ability to appraise the quality of weapons and armour (through his own experience, though no actual smithing skills)
Weaknesses :
- Obsessed with dying gloriously in combat
- Cannot back down from a challenge, regardless of the chance of success
- Possesses no real courtly social skills. Is rude, blunt, and straight forward to a point of being offensive to some
- Illiterate
Magic: Absolutely none. Gerhard believes that magic has its place, just not with him. Although he wouldn't refuse healing, he sees the use of magic in combat cowardly and weak.
Weaponry Skills:
Frisian breidox - heavy, 4 foot crescent bladed axe with a sharpened horn on top and bottom of the blade, and a half back.
Frankish throwing axe - short handled balanced axe, designed for throwing but equally effective as a hand weapon.
Seaxe - single edged long bladed knife.
Shield - three feet across and edged in iron, capable of delivering crippling blows in a pinch.
Bow - can use one for hunting, but refuses to use it for combat, seeing it as a weapon of the weak.
Character History:
Gerhard’s father Raeddeg was a proud, powerful man, a warlord within the Frisian lands wedged tightly between the Frankish and Saxon nations. Like most Frisians, he was a stout warrior, expert sailor, and fearless man. However, he was also a shrewd man, one who knew that while plunder and raiding could make a man rich and powerful, so too could trade and commerce. But while most Frisians saw their hall as their family, other Frisian halls as competitors, and all non-Frisians as enemies, Raeddeg saw all men as equal targets, Frisian, Frank and Saxon, to be raided when possible, traded with when profitable, and allied with when necessary. It was for this reason that he took Fredegunda, the daughter of a Frankish chieftain, as his wife, to attempt to strengthen ties with those who may someday become a necessary ally.
It was to this odd mixed coupling of a Frisian warrior and a Frankish woman that Gerhard was born. Raised among the peoples of his father, Raeddeg, he grew up in the far north-eastern coastlands of the Frisian lands. Here, he learned to sail, to fight, and to distrust his father. By the age of 11, he had already proven himself to be a strong, effective, and deadly warrior. He had learned the comfort of armour and shield, mastered the Frisian breidox, the great broad axe, but unlike the other warriors, in place of a spear he carried two Frankish throwing axes, weapons appropriated from his mother’s people. And as such he began travelling with his father’s warband during raids. Learning to sail, he joined them as they ventured further east into the lands of the Saxons, raiding all along the coast. And with each raid, the warband ventured farther along the coast, and stayed away from their homes for longer times. Raeddeg also began leaving fewer and fewer warriors behind at the hall, believing that the spoils he traded to his Frisian neighbours served as a guarantee of protection from attack, and even feeling safe from the Franks due to his marriage to Fredegunda. By 14, Gerhard felt no amount of raiding would prove the worth of his father as a true warrior, and even among his own warband whispers had begun that the freewheeling approach Raeddeg had taken to buying safety and allies was the act of a coward. Feeling the growing dissent among his men, Raeddeg decided to winter at home, and attempt to rebuild his reputation. However, this was not to be.
During one long winters night, following another feast thrown by Raeddeg in an effort to flaunt his status as a man of wealth and power, a Frankish tribe attacked Raeddeg’s lands. With many of his own men already drunk, the Frisians barely managed to fend off the attack, but at terrible losses. Raeddeg himself fell that night, though Gerhard suspected that it was not the blade of a Fankish attacker that had ended his life, but the seaxe of his own mother. However, he still saw this as an opportunity. With his father dead, he was now the heir to the tribe, and as chieftain, would return his people to their true ways, the ways of the fierce warriors their ancestors had been. But this was not to be. In the days that followed the attack, his mother began to spread rumours that it was in fact he who had allied with the Franks, and had arranged the attack to have his father killed. That she could not prove it was the only thing that stopped her from openly making the charge against him, but the rumours alone were enough. The damage was done, and the warriors would not follow him. With so few of the tribe’s warriors left, and even among those, even fewer he could trust, Gerhard found himself an outcast among his own people. The following day, he left, and never returned to Frisian lands.
Equipped only with what weapons and armour he could gather, and a single horse, he headed north east, carefully picking his way through the lands of the Saxons hoping to make his way into the lands of the Angles and the Jutes. The plan was simple. Find a lord, one truly worthy of serving, and join his warband. In this way, he hoped to reclaim the fame and glory that he believed the true legacy of his people. Uninterested in reclaiming his lands, or ever leading a warband himself, he sought only to serve a warlord who would offer him the opportunity to face battle with honour, courage, and the ferocity of combat he had come to embrace. By age 18, he had found that man in Grymwode Severn. Attaching himself to the warband, he travelled north to aid in Grymwode’s efforts to reclaim his lands. It was here that he met Uhtred Einarson, and the two formed the basis for their friendship. For decades, the two fought together in the warbands of Grymwode, and Carven. But like his friend, in his later years, Gerhard grew anxious for one last battle, one last great and bloody assault.
Now, like Uhtred, Gerhard has left the hall of Carven, and decided to make his way to Camelot, to find fame and honour and if possible a glorious death in the service of Elizabeth, Carven’s daughter. And though the two travelled by different routes, he knows that they will meet again, either in Camelot, or for a grand feast in the halls of the afterlife.
Additional Information:
Sample Roleplay:
The salt spray splashed against Gerhard’s face, frothing around the sides of his grinning mouth. No sooner had the first scrapes of hull against pebble begun when the Frisian launched himself over the snekkje’s railing and landed knee deep in the surf. The Saxons no doubt knew they were coming, and were already along the beach ready and waiting. All the better. Combat was to be fought face to face, not skulking around like a coward.
As Gerhard charged towards land, the arrows first came. Shield up, head down, he barrelled in. Arrows slammed against his shield, one slicing along his thigh. He fumbled with the crossbow his father had insisted they all carry. To the hels with this machine. Refusing to give up his shield, and unable to manoeuvre the crossbow one handed, he decided to simply toss it away. Reaching for one of the Frankish axes on his belt, he readied to hurl it at the first Saxon in range. Without even raising the shield, pivoting on one heel, twisting at the hip, he launched the axe under the bottom of the shield rim. The axe slammed into the knee of the Saxon, taking his leg out from under him. Gerhard continued the run, slamming the shield rim into the man’s face, finishing him off. Reaching behind his shoulder, he drew his breidox and charged on.
Crashing into the next Saxon in his path, Gerhard found himself slam to a halt. Shield to shield, the two warriors shoved against one another, boots digging into the wet sand. Grinning wildly, all Gerhard could think is that this is what life is all about. Grunting and spitting, he shoved with all his might. Gaining just enough advantage to press his opponent back slightly, he underhand swung his axe, severing the foot just above the ankle. As the man fell, Gerhard twisted his wrist, reversed the swing, and brought the axe down on the man’s helmet, caving in the metal with a wet crunch and a spray of blood. Laughing as he straightened, he turned to search out the next opponent.
Seeing two Saxons coming towards him, Gerhard hunched forward, his grin spreading further, and tightened his grip on his shield. Spearmen. Excellent. Close the distance, make the range more appropriate for an axe than a spear, take their advantage. Charging like a bull, he closed. One Saxon’s spear glanced off of his helmet, slicing chain links and strap, and opening a gash along his cheek. The other lodged into his hip. The pain seared through him, driving his fury, and in his blood rage, he fought on. In a full swing, he smashed the rim of his shield into one Saxon’s face, shattering his cheek. The blow also drove his helmet into his nose, breaking it. The blood would blind him and keep him out of the fight long enough for Gerhard to finish the other man. Side step out of the way of the spear thrust, the pain in his thigh driving him on, roll the shoulder, full reverse swing, and drive the horn of the blade into his groin.
As the Saxon fell, Gerhard turned to the last warrior, unfortunately a moment late. The Saxon had cleared his vision and rejoined the fight. With his shield already lowered, and the wounds starting to take their toll, even in the full grip of the rage, Gerhard was too slow to avoid the spear tip. All he could do was hope the chain brynja would prevent the wound from being fatal. As the spear blade drove into his shoulder, snapping iron links and tearing through the gambeson below. Releasing his grip on his shield, and grabbing hold of the spear shaft, Gerhard plunged the blade deeper, digging into his own shoulder, but pulling the Saxon off balance. Having lost his balance, he had no chance to raise his shield in time to block the vicious swipe of the breidox as it hacked into his hip, slicing flesh and breaking bone. As the man fell, Gerhard pulled the spear from his shoulder and drove it deep into its owner’s chest.
Seeing no more Saxons on the beach, Gerhard fell to his knees in the wet sand, the wounds beginning to get the better of him. Looking across the beach, he began to laugh. Hearing the heavy trod of boots in the sand, he turned to look up at his father. As Gerhard laughed, his father looked down at him, a frown on his face. “Gods, boy, ye fight well, but ye look like a stuck pig. And what’s so damn funny?â€
Gerhard grinned and pointed along the beach to where the broken remains of his crossbow lay, stepped on and struck by a stray axe swing. Laughing long and hard, Gerhard barely managed to choke out “Sorry, father, but I think I broke your toy bow.â€
[Optional] OOC Section:
Name: Brian
Location: Toronto, Canada
How long have you been RPing for: Too many years to remember
