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Topics - Vigot Thidrandisson

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1
Norr Province / Home for the Mourning Days
« on: October 28, 2020, 04:04:38 PM »
It had been some time since Vigot had been home. His family had been supportive of his move, of course, and he had been diligent in keeping in contact as frequently as his schedule allowed. His letters might not have been the longest - Astrid and his mother were far more verbose - but he had kept up with them. It was why their bundled letters had not been a surprise. They always stacked them by order of how they should be read, and there were always entreaty to visit in varying degrees.

Astrid's letter had been damp with tears when he'd finished, even though he'd followed her instruction to breathe in the middle.

He'd entered his request for a leave of absence that same day, and left the following morning, with instructions delivered to his staff regarding where to forward whatever important mail might come in. They were competent. He trusted he wouldn't return to a burning husk of a city.

Travel south had been swift by skyship, even if the vessel had been packed. Travel expenses had gone up after... everything, but he hadn't cared about the tight quarters. He'd needed to get back.

Only to immediately find himself balking at the idea of addressing the situation while the ship descended. He'd debated, briefly, sending ahead to his family, letting them know of his arrival, but he wanted time, too, to face the numbness that had bloomed in his chest. It'd been sometime since he'd walked the Reric gate markets. He'd brought gifts from Meols, but he couldn't bring himself to submit himself to the attention of his family just yet. He knew his sisters would be more than willing to take him by the hand and lead him around, acting at once as entourage and tour guide, and it was attention he looked forward to but couldn't yet face.

Instead he followed the crowd, weaving away from the air dock into the mass that seethed around the North Gate.

Passing form stall to stall, squeezing between shoulders, weaving around children, Vigot found himself unable to truly engage. None of the wares were distracting enough, or the hawkers convincing enough. He found himself standing in front of a food stall, holding a dish he didn't remember paying for, looking at something he wasn't sure he could eat, let alone wanted to. The void inside felt only that much more present surrounded by the bustling market, and Vigot wanted, very suddenly, to simply bury himself in the snow and wait out the pain.

Unable to pursue that line of action, he addressed a more immediate issue: the hot food he'd apparently purchased in his fugue state wasn't something he wanted to waste. Turning to his closest neighbor, not really paying attention to who that happened to be, he asked, "Would you like this? I've changed my mind."

2
Glacia / Thidrandisson, Vigot
« on: October 31, 2018, 01:32:40 AM »
    Vigot Thidrandisson


    The Basics


    Full Name: Vigot Thidrandisson
    Age: 32
    Gender/Pronouns: male/he/him

    Ethnicity: SL
    Birthplace: Glacia
    Current Location: Meols, Glacia
    Profession: Court Steward

    Caste: Warlord Healer
    Birthright Jewel: White (100)
    Offering Jewel: Rose (74)

    Face Claim: Oliver Jackson-Cohen



    The Body


    Height: 6’3
    Body Type: Fit
    Hair Color: Dirty Blond
    Eye Color: Blue

    Appearance:
    Vi is a big, sand colored puppy. He bundles up, laces his snowshoes tight, and likes big sweaters. He carries himself like he’s trying to be smaller than he is, shoulders rounded and body curled in. He’s fit but he wasn’t always, found putting muscle and keeping it a struggle and it shows. Big blue eyes and a crooked smile soften a face made of strong lines, rounded out by ever present scruff. Hands calloused from years of work, Vi has the names of his direct sisters tattooed in gently twisting lines that run from wrist to elbow on his left forearm, while his right is done up in rings for healing, good fortune, blessings, guidance, strength, and spiritual fortitude.


    The Mind


    Craft Strengths: 15pts
    Healing Webs
    Diagnostic Sight
    Craft Healing
    Regenerative Webs
    Craft Brews
    Craft Weaknesses: Shielding, Scent Cleansing, Vermin Warding

    Personality:
    Oldest of five and the only son, Vigot takes to responsibility with a gentle, firm hand. Well versed all things handy, from stitching to braiding to skinning animals to boning fish. Vi took to healing when his sisters proved rowdier than him, steady hands and placid temper. He shaped up to be a homebody, liking more to be near the activity of people rather than in the middle of it.

    Vigot doesn’t talk much, used to being washed over by a loud family. He’s more of an actions guy, shows his love by mending and making and whittling. He’s good at splitting his attention, is a good ear and a good shoulder for grievances. V only really unfolds when someone under his wing gets in a scrap or needs extra muscle, and then he’s all precision. Vigot might not be adept at battle Craft to any degree, but growing up in Glacia definitely doesn't leave one without some knowledge of what to hit to hurt.


    The Backstory


    Family:
    • Sibbe Styrkolldottir | Mother | Yellow to Summer-sky healer
    • Thidrandi Firthgestsson| Father | Tiger Eye to Summer-sky Caste
    • Astrid | Sister | Summer-sky to Green Caste
    • Aslief | Sister | White to Rose Caste
    • Sigrunn | Sister | Summer-sky to Green Caste
    • Halla | Sister | Rose to Purple Dusk
    Caste[/list]

    History:

    Vigot was brought into the world on one of the calmest nights of winter, quiet and cool. His parents worried over him immediately, because Vi mirrored the night too much. Didn’t cry, too cold. Too early, with what some considered a labor too easy. Family and neighbors swarmed him, and although he persisted in his silence it was not immediately apparent that he was not ill.

    In the sick house Vigot stayed, worried over by family and healers who kicked up more fuss than he. Their healing webs could divine no real cause for his silence, or his chill, or, some time later, his ability to eat and eat and eat far past what other children his age would. When he persisted without change, Sibbe elected instead to move him away from the ill and in with her elders, who welcomed him with open arms. Many of them being healers themselves, Sibbe and Thidrandi were comforted in the knowledge that while they were away their son would be well looked after.

    So it was that Vi grew in stumbling starts, bundled in furs, sitting with family elders, big eyes watching, ears open to their tales. Vigot's world was one immersed in the history of his family more than anything else in those early years, cultivating a sweet singing voice at the knees of his aunts and uncles and grandparents. It was there that he learned handcrafts as well, whittling and weaving and stitching. It was also here that the first seed of his fascination with healing craft, watching his relative weave web after web, either for himself or for others.

    Nothing was ever found to be truly wrong with Vi, just that he had a seemingly endless appetite and had to wear more layers than other children when playing in the snow. He was allowed to go to school, although he was frequently plied with brews for his health and appetite by aunties and uncles and all manner of family. Among his relatives and neighbors Vi's constitution was well known. It was a common joke that his Birthright, when he took it, wouldn't be a gem at all, simply a plate spelled to never empty.

    Between starting school and taking his Birthright Vigot was blessed with two more sisters from Sibbe, and he took to them like a house on fire. Although not terrible at socializing with children his age, Vi found it easier to speak, when he chose to, around those to whom he was related. These sisters were showered with little crafted gifts, carved wooden animals and clothing with increasingly intricate embroidered embellishments.

    Whine Vigot's Birthright did finally come to pass and he walked away with a White in hand, all his family could do was scratch their heads in confusion. They'd assumed his rampant appetite was due to the potential of a dark jewel, but now they were at a loss. Jewel color meant little to Vi, who had already found himself knee deep in healing craft tutors and was far more interested in what he could do with precision than with might.

    Vi stayed in school until he was sixteen more because he enjoyed it than for lack of suitable mentors, and, having sprouted considerably and finally reaching a balance of brews and food that was allowing him to put on and keep muscle, was a quiet shadow over his sisters. He never had a mean word for anyone, but there was a look about him that meant trouble for anyone who crossed his kin. It helped that, despite his sunny disposition, Vi's face naturally fell to scowl.

    He began his apprenticeship under his grandmother, who put his sewing and knife skills to good use in those early days, when his Craft was still wild beneath his hands. Vigot was good at the small things, at binding flesh back together with thread, at soothing, and holding a thrashing man while his bones were set. It took several years before she felt him competent with craftless healing, and then began his true training in the healing arts, rather than the small lessons that had supplemented his learning.

    Flourished his family would say later, Vigot's hands warm against their skin. Even the uneven temper of his caste did not weigh enough against the way healing seemed to come to him.

    Stewardship, on the other hand, felt a bit like a happy accident.

    It had been Sibbe and his grandmother who contrived to get Vigot to train beneath the Court's Steward, seeing in him the patient hand that would benefit from time away from being immersed in the sick house. Having been dedicated to healing over a decade, Vi allowed them to nudge him along toward studying beneath the Court's Steward, allowing that he still spent half his time attending to healing.

    Vigot, shy and a little nervous about the change, took to the apprentice duties of Stewardship well, if slowly, due more in part to his own hesitance to step onto a larger stage. He was one of several Steward apprentices, and although he was never close friends with the others it wasn't an environment that he hated. It was just strange being so far from his family during studies, even if they were still close enough to visit when they weren't busy.

    He was, of course, prompted by the Steward to apply with his associates, it was just more a surprise when he was chosen. Vi had never seen himself as a particularly stand out candidate, overshadowed frequently by his family by sheer volume, and it had been a thrill to be taken up as Steward by the new Queen when his predecessor elected to step down.


    The Writer


    Player Name: Kayndred or Kay
    Player Pronouns: She/her/hers
    Timezone: -8
    Contact: PM, Discord, email
    How did you find us?: Much Digging, but through Rise of the Believers' affiliates links

    Inactivity Instructions: Archive, preferably. If something arises where he’s required I don’t mind that he be put up for adoption, killed as a last resort.
    Roleplay Sample:


    Pages: [1]

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