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piosenniel · 10-14-2005, 08:08 PM

Folwren's character

NAME: Captain Hereric son Hothlere

AGE: 82

RACE: Gondorian

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: Hereric uses a broad sword best. His sword, Gayaros, has a four foot, white blade with a silver hilt and handle. In the pommel is set a single blue stone. The hilt is decorated with thin, slender vines make of silver twining and encircling it.

Besides his skill with a sword, he can use the bow well, and has some ability with casting a spear.

APPEARANCE: He is not tall, really, compared to most Gondorians, and stands only six foot one. However, he has a powerfully built body, and a commanding eye and bearing which make up for his height. Brown hair, lightened by the almost constant sunlight, dark, penetrating brown eyes.
He usually wears no armor and is dressed (at most times) in a while shirt, laced at the throat, brown breeches, mid-calf boots. On such occasions as welcoming the King aboard the ship, he’ll have his coat and hat on, with his sword at his side, cutting a handsome and military figure.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Captain Hereric is a taut captain, but neither brutal or cruel to his men. It is rather necessary to retain rather stiff discipline at sea, but his crew does not resent him for it, and they all rather like their captain. He has a very quiet character most of the time, and usually only becomes visibly angry or annoyed at such busy, confusing times as preparing for a voyage and while they’re still at the wharfs and harbors. Once sail is spread he’s back to his regular self, calm and generally quiet.

In any sea battle, he can make quick, difficult decisions on a moment’s notice. He knows his ship from bow to stern and every curve and rope therein, and is therefore able to direct her in difficult places and times at sea, or anywhere.

His weaknesses lie in his habit of withdrawing himself when things aren’t going well, or aren’t going his way (not in the stubborn, spoiled child sense, but as a sea officer). At such times, he’ll become even less talkative, stern, and altogether impassible. Another is that he gets unaccountably excited in battles, and though his sometimes reckless actions has never gotten him or his ship and crew into any trouble that he couldn’t pull them back out of again, it still is dangerous.

All in all, he’s a great leader and an excellent captain, knowing both his men, his ship, and his business well.

HISTORY:

Hereric was born to Hothlore and Aanel in 1728 in Osgiliath. His father was a captain at the time of his birth and continued being so until his death in one of the many, random battles with the Corsairs in 1738. From that day forward, Hereric wanted to go and join the Navy in hopes of someday taking revenge for his father’s death. His mother let him go and in 1739, at age 11, he joined.

Having had such a father as Hothlore, he did not have a difficult time finding his way as one of the junior officers onto one of the ships. That is not to say he had many privileges when he was a boy, but he wasn’t considered a regular seaman. He worked his way up the ladder, learning first about the knots and sails, and then navigating skills. He was taught the necessary mathematics and astrology necessary to successfully captain and sail a ship. He learned to read and write, tell time by the sun, and take and fulfill responsibilities given him. Before becoming a captain in 1795, he had served as several of the higher ranking officers.

In 1795 he was appointed Captain and given his first ship. It was small and not particularly fast nor very nice, but in two years he was given a higher rating and given a different ship, The Cuivië - the one he presently sails. It was one that he had sailed most of his earlier years. He found it a great advantage, knowing the way it sailed almost as soon as he set foot to it.

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Folwren's post

Captain Hereric stood on the deck of The Cuivië, his hands folded behind him, and his eyes watching the bustle of his men below. The muscle in his jaw slowly clenched and unclenched and a constant, grim expression lingered on his face. The last day before setting sail was always hard enough without the extra stress of greeting a king. It would have to be his ship, wouldn’t it? But then, she was very fine, wasn’t she? He glanced up at the ropes and rigging above his head. The fine lines against the clear blue sky, and the proud Gondorian flag fluttering slightly in the breeze. She was a gorgeous ship, and her crew one of the best. He had little nor no doubts of her performance, and he would not have had any worries in the least had it not been for the condescending manner of the king’s own advisor.

Hereric’s jaw tightened again and he looked towards the pier. Of all people, he thought he disliked the condescending sort. The very thought of being looked down on by anyone on his ship was extremely annoying and entirely intolerable. He’d have to work on that if the two of them were going to be stuck together for more than a few days.

The approach of his first left-tenant brought his attention back to his ship and he watched as the young man mounted the steps to his side. ‘Sir, the last of the water is on, and the meat. That should be the last shipment on board from the port. The last attachment of soldiers, also, will be arriving shortly, no doubt.’

‘Yes, I should imagine so,’ Hereric replied. He glanced over his shoulder at the sun and back down. ‘Prepare my barge. You will go to the landing and greet his majesty the King.’

In a few moments, the boat was by the ship’s side and the left-tenant with the Captain’s coxswain climbed over the side and were rowed towards the landing. The Captain remained where he stood, giving the last orders, and preparing the ship for the king’s arrival. It would not be long.

Hereric kept half an eye on his men on shore. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. The wait at the docks and the stress of making certain that everything was bought and delivered to the ship always made him impatient and peevish. The counselor had likely been under stress himself when he had spoken to him.

‘Forimar,’ he said, turning to a man walking past below him. ‘Get all this squared away and prepare the deck for the king’s arrival.’

10-14-2005, 08:08 PM	#7
piosenniel Desultory Dwimmerlaik Join Date: Mar 2002 Location: Pickin' flowers with Bill the Cat..... Posts: 7,779	Folwren's character NAME: Captain Hereric son Hothlere AGE: 82 RACE: Gondorian GENDER: Male WEAPONS: Hereric uses a broad sword best. His sword, Gayaros, has a four foot, white blade with a silver hilt and handle. In the pommel is set a single blue stone. The hilt is decorated with thin, slender vines make of silver twining and encircling it. Besides his skill with a sword, he can use the bow well, and has some ability with casting a spear. APPEARANCE: He is not tall, really, compared to most Gondorians, and stands only six foot one. However, he has a powerfully built body, and a commanding eye and bearing which make up for his height. Brown hair, lightened by the almost constant sunlight, dark, penetrating brown eyes. He usually wears no armor and is dressed (at most times) in a while shirt, laced at the throat, brown breeches, mid-calf boots. On such occasions as welcoming the King aboard the ship, he’ll have his coat and hat on, with his sword at his side, cutting a handsome and military figure. PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Captain Hereric is a taut captain, but neither brutal or cruel to his men. It is rather necessary to retain rather stiff discipline at sea, but his crew does not resent him for it, and they all rather like their captain. He has a very quiet character most of the time, and usually only becomes visibly angry or annoyed at such busy, confusing times as preparing for a voyage and while they’re still at the wharfs and harbors. Once sail is spread he’s back to his regular self, calm and generally quiet. In any sea battle, he can make quick, difficult decisions on a moment’s notice. He knows his ship from bow to stern and every curve and rope therein, and is therefore able to direct her in difficult places and times at sea, or anywhere. His weaknesses lie in his habit of withdrawing himself when things aren’t going well, or aren’t going his way (not in the stubborn, spoiled child sense, but as a sea officer). At such times, he’ll become even less talkative, stern, and altogether impassible. Another is that he gets unaccountably excited in battles, and though his sometimes reckless actions has never gotten him or his ship and crew into any trouble that he couldn’t pull them back out of again, it still is dangerous. All in all, he’s a great leader and an excellent captain, knowing both his men, his ship, and his business well. HISTORY: Hereric was born to Hothlore and Aanel in 1728 in Osgiliath. His father was a captain at the time of his birth and continued being so until his death in one of the many, random battles with the Corsairs in 1738. From that day forward, Hereric wanted to go and join the Navy in hopes of someday taking revenge for his father’s death. His mother let him go and in 1739, at age 11, he joined. Having had such a father as Hothlore, he did not have a difficult time finding his way as one of the junior officers onto one of the ships. That is not to say he had many privileges when he was a boy, but he wasn’t considered a regular seaman. He worked his way up the ladder, learning first about the knots and sails, and then navigating skills. He was taught the necessary mathematics and astrology necessary to successfully captain and sail a ship. He learned to read and write, tell time by the sun, and take and fulfill responsibilities given him. Before becoming a captain in 1795, he had served as several of the higher ranking officers. In 1795 he was appointed Captain and given his first ship. It was small and not particularly fast nor very nice, but in two years he was given a higher rating and given a different ship, The Cuivië - the one he presently sails. It was one that he had sailed most of his earlier years. He found it a great advantage, knowing the way it sailed almost as soon as he set foot to it. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Folwren's post Captain Hereric stood on the deck of The Cuivië, his hands folded behind him, and his eyes watching the bustle of his men below. The muscle in his jaw slowly clenched and unclenched and a constant, grim expression lingered on his face. The last day before setting sail was always hard enough without the extra stress of greeting a king. It would have to be his ship, wouldn’t it? But then, she was very fine, wasn’t she? He glanced up at the ropes and rigging above his head. The fine lines against the clear blue sky, and the proud Gondorian flag fluttering slightly in the breeze. She was a gorgeous ship, and her crew one of the best. He had little nor no doubts of her performance, and he would not have had any worries in the least had it not been for the condescending manner of the king’s own advisor. Hereric’s jaw tightened again and he looked towards the pier. Of all people, he thought he disliked the condescending sort. The very thought of being looked down on by anyone on his ship was extremely annoying and entirely intolerable. He’d have to work on that if the two of them were going to be stuck together for more than a few days. The approach of his first left-tenant brought his attention back to his ship and he watched as the young man mounted the steps to his side. ‘Sir, the last of the water is on, and the meat. That should be the last shipment on board from the port. The last attachment of soldiers, also, will be arriving shortly, no doubt.’ ‘Yes, I should imagine so,’ Hereric replied. He glanced over his shoulder at the sun and back down. ‘Prepare my barge. You will go to the landing and greet his majesty the King.’ In a few moments, the boat was by the ship’s side and the left-tenant with the Captain’s coxswain climbed over the side and were rowed towards the landing. The Captain remained where he stood, giving the last orders, and preparing the ship for the king’s arrival. It would not be long. Hereric kept half an eye on his men on shore. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. The wait at the docks and the stress of making certain that everything was bought and delivered to the ship always made him impatient and peevish. The counselor had likely been under stress himself when he had spoken to him. ‘Forimar,’ he said, turning to a man walking past below him. ‘Get all this squared away and prepare the deck for the king’s arrival.’