Forsilvra :: Winds of Change
Old 01-10-2014, 11:33 AM
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Default Erwin Harcourt

Erwin Harcourt





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[OOC Information]

Your Name: Random
RP Experience: Whatever I said last time, 8 years?
Your Character's Player Base: Stephan Amell

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[Basic Information]

Character Name: Erwin Harcourt
Character Age: 30
Gender: Male
Birthday (including year): April 9th 211
Home Castle/City: Fyrsbruck
House [Birth and Marriage if applicable]: Harcourt

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[Appearance]

A cousin to the ruling Harcourt line, Erwin has slightly lighter hair than his house is known for. With that exception noted; he otherwise looks very much like one would expect for man member of his house. He has a strong jaw, a body to match and a somewhat noble countenance that he continues to carry when battered down and in defeat. Slightly below average height, Erwin has never been a particularly imposing man. While fit, strong and healthy his size has always held him back when it comes to people’s estimations of him.

He dresses strangely, having spent a long period of time outside of Forsilvra, specifically Maelazan. He eschews most metal armour and instead clads himself in cloth and leather for battle. Rather than adorning himself with heralds or colours he frequently dons simple clothes and clothing in brown, tan and other earthy colours.

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[Personality]

When young Erwin was a boy, he was going to grow up to be a hero. That was what he had said from the day that he was old enough to hold a sword. He has always been diligent towards that purpose, training, practicing and improving himself in any way that he could. Unfortunately when his dreams were dashed, he was left a bitter husk of a man. Erwin has always been dutiful and caring for those around him, which has often been the root of his problems.

He loves his family deeply, none of whom still live. He dreams big, knowing that he has ruined all chances that he will ever actually achieve them. Erwin has instead spent years roaming in exile, trying to find a new purpose like he had as a boy. He strives to do good when he can but accepts that his honour has been irreparably damaged and is willing to sink to dark depths if he feels that it is necessary to achieve a goal. He naturally builds respect and admiration from those around him, which prompts him to retreat away. He thinks that he does not deserve to be liked and often moves on whenever things start to go his way.

He still possesses his loving and heroic spirit, but like the leather armour he wears, it is a soft skin that has been made hard. He is deeply lonely and searching for a place to belong. He is afraid to settle down in any one place for too long though, fearing that he will do something to ruin his happiness and the lives of others once again. He does not like being alone, but prefers it over the alternative, hurting the people he cares about.

As you would expect, Erwin is not a particularly friendly man, preferring to keep all people equidistant, enemies and loved ones alike. He is gruff, of few words and usually very blunt. He can have a hot head and act brashly. At the same time, the young boy who was determined to be a hero still lives on inside him and from time to time; thoughtful sayings, kind words and other loving emotions shine through, rare and special, like the first flowers of spring.

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[History]

Erwin is the son of Esau Harcourt, making him the once removed cousin of Ian and William Harcourt. This naturally, put him on a somewhat obscure and distant branch of the family tree. His father was an only child and amongst the Harcourts Erwin often found himself alone at family gatherings. He was ten years younger than his first removed cousins, and ten years older than their children. This was not a problem for him, but simply affirmed a fact early on in Erwin’s life: His future lay elsewhere.

With no titles or sizable lands to inherit, Erwin decided early that he was going to be a solider, a fine one. He was going to be a great and noble swordsman that anybody would be proud to have leading their armies into battle or fighting at their side. That was a more than laudable idea to his father who did his best to train Erwin when he was young and arranged for him to be tutored as he grew older. His path was not an easy one, on the small side, Erwin had to work harder to build up his strength and make up for his shortcomings.

As he aged, Erwin grew to be quite an accomplished swordsman. This was especially true after one of his trainers, a retired guard captain who barely stood at five foot, taught him a particular two handed sword technique that involved a permanently high block and attacking low. It turned his small size into an advantage; he would attack the leg to whittle down his opponent’s mobility.

In his small family, the only real companionship Erwin had besides his trainers was his sister Isobel, two years younger than him, she had an ambition similar to Erwin’s. Rather than becoming the best fighter in all the land, she was going to be the best wife. That was why Erwin thought very little of it when his sister began exchanging frequent letters with somebody and whenever at large court gatherings, would sneak away in the middle of the night. He simply assumed that she had found herself a suitor in one of the other houses, one that was not yet ready to announce his intentions. Frankly, Erwin was happy for his little sister.

Then one night she came to him in tears with a secret that she begged not to tell their mother or father. She was pregnant. Erwin panicked for a moment but consoled himself with the knowledge that there was still enough time for a proper marriage to be arranged before a scandal occurred. Then she revealed that a scandal was unavoidable. The father was Einri Vulferam, ten years older than Isobel, married and with two young children. Erwin did not know how to react or what advice to offer. He was a swordsman, he was no good to his sister for something like that.

Whatever help she had needed, whatever she had been expecting from her brother, clearly Erwin had not been able to provide it. Isobel was found dead two days later in her room, a vial of poison in her hand. One that could be lethal, but in small doses could encourage miscarriage. The whole family was devastated, but none more so that Erwin who knew the whole truth. In grief filled rage, Erwin tracked down Einri Vulferam and challenged him to a duel.

Without witnesses the duel was illegal, but Einri wanted to keep his part in the tragedy quiet and Erwin was too out of his mind to care. The eighteen year old Erwin was fighting somebody eight years older than him and a full head taller, Einri was confident that he could win. As it was, he did not. The man was so used to people striking high that he never saw the blade hamstring him until it was too late.

It was only a matter of hours before the news of the duel and the reason why it had taken place became known. With both sides clearly at fault it was hard to find a solution that did would not result in more death. Erwin could have been put to trial but it was obvious that he would choose trial by combat. Instead it was suggested that Erwin exile himself, effectively making the problem vanish with him. It became a dark event that was never to be spoken of again. By Vulferam custom Erwin had lost all personal honour by fighting an illegal duel. There was going to be a way for him to remain without the both houses losing face. It was generally assumed that the young Harcourt would never return.

Erwin left Arbrecht and in the twelve years that passed many events occurred. The plague killed his father and a riding accident claimed the life of his mother. Of course, Erwin only found these things out months, sometimes years later. He became a sell sword, using his one skill, killing, and putting it to good use. He found good work as a caravan guard in Ahstere and the rest of the world forgot that he had ever been there.

One day Erwin’s caravan was came upon by a group of Maelazani on a raid into Ahstere. Erwin fought against them and held his ground, but it eventually he was the only member of his caravan left. The Maelazani came at him again and again but struggled to break his defence. When he finally tired enough to be struck down, he was only wounded and the leader of the party decided to take him as a prisoner.

Erwin half expected to be executed or eaten as he was taken back to Maelazan. After several days of being fed and having his wounds tended to he realised that the only reason he was alive was because he had impressed the guerrilla band. Their elder demanded that Erwin teach him and his men how to fight like he did and in exchange he was allowed to live. Erwin lived amongst the Maelazani for several years and actually became their champion in honour duels. He was treated well, but remained a captive. Escape never crossed his mind; he was in the desert and honestly, had nowhere else to go.

He learned their language, some of their culture and fighting techniques, adopting some for his own. In the early days, they had often made him fight against other prisoners, then their own fighters. As his standing grew, the Maelazani chanted the word “Albranni” over and over again when he fought, especially against other tribes. It took him many months to learn what it meant. They were saying North Man; they were cheering him on.

After nearly ten years, he was finally allowed to leave the tribe that had been both a home and a prison to him. As he travelled north towards the coast he was able to pick up rumours about what was happening back in Arbrecht. Even in the vaguest terms, Erwin had already heard enough to know that it was high time for the North Man to return home.

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[Writing Sample]

“We outnumber you four to one. Why should we give up our claim on this oasis?” One elder asked the other.
“Our tribe is strong.” Erwin’s captor replied, who happened to be the other elder.
“Your men would need the strength of five in order to beat us.” The Elder replied. “If one of your men can defeat five of mine in armed combat then we will give up this oasis as you request.”
“That is madness.” Erwin’s captor said with a sad shake of his head.
“Then you are welcome to leave.” The elder said amicably, as he began to rise from the sands.
“No! We accept.” Erwin’s captor said, recognising the misunderstanding. “I find it mad that you would send five of your men to die. Albanni.” This final statement was directed towards Erwin who was sat a short distance away with the rest of his… he hesitated to call them tribe. He rose reluctantly, and yearned for the times past when this conversation would have been lost on him. Erwin had seen where it was going from the moment the elders had sat down to parley.

Erwin shook the sand from the folds of his long brown cloak. It was itchy and hot during the day, but barely enough to keep him warm at night. Twilight, like at the moment, was one of the few times that the North Man found it comfortable to wear. One of the men that accompanied Erwin, a guard of sorts scurried away and soon returned with his long sword and daggers. Erwin strapped the sword to his back, secured the daggers under his cloak and sighed heavily with a dry mouth. He had not had a sip of water in nearly two days and still he was expected to fight.

They should not be putting their faith in him like this. That was what he thought to himself as he was led to a clearing equidistant between the Oasis camp and the dusty, dehydrated band of nomads that Erwin represented. There were already five young men waiting for him, strong, tall, and shirtless. They all looked to be fine warriors and more than a match for one short man in his shaggy brown cloak. This was not the first time that he had been put in this situation and provided he survived, it would not be the last.

Erwin drew his sword and held the hilt diagonally across his face, blade pointed towards the ground. As was his distinctive style. He watched his opponents as they took final swigs of water from their skins. Erwin had nothing but dust in his and would not be able to drink again until his job was done. There were times when he could not tell if he was a captive or a guest amongst the tribe, they kept his sword away from him, like they were afraid that he would try to escape. Erwin had once heard his elder tell his guard in no uncertain terms that if they were ever attacked though, his only priority was to return Erwin’s sword to him. As five men lay dead in the sand and their tribe skulked away into the night, Erwin could certainly understand why. They feared him, but they needed him even more.

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[Timeline of Events]


Fyrsbruck

Year 211: Erwin Harcourt is born.
Year 213: Isobel Harcourt is born.
Year 229: Isobel Harcourt dies, Erwin enters into an illegal duel with Einri Vulferam, kills him and enters informal exile.
Year 231: Is captured by Maelazani raiders.
Year 241: Game Start
Year 241: Negotiates his release and returns to Arbrecht


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[Genealogy]

Arthgallo Harcourt to be obliterated, Erwin and a dead Isobel added in his place.

(Vulferam connection discussed with Lahariel, but they should be added for the approval too.)

Last edited by Random; 01-10-2014 at 02:19 PM.
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Old 01-10-2014, 11:58 AM
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@Lahariel for any secretive approval reasons, @Mango / @John whomever gets there first, then me
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Old 01-10-2014, 12:13 PM
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Approved! Glad to see someone doing something with the extra people.
// As long as Lah approves

Sidenote: I'm changing his grandfathers name to fit the naming convention. If you have any E name you'd like for Erwin's Grandpa, let me know by PM!
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Old 01-10-2014, 12:14 PM
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Lahariel
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Just wanted to make sure that everything still flowed well on the profile after the discussion. All good on my end of things.
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Old 01-10-2014, 02:32 PM
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Ok, read, love *LOVE* ALthough there may be a few minor additions for SanJar plots but that shouldn't affect an overall approval
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Old 01-10-2014, 02:40 PM
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ACCEPTED!

All required parties have approved your profile and you may now post.

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