vietmyke

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Odran Stormweaver

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"Oi, so much noise so early in tha mornin'." Odran grumbled to himself, as the rest of chosen began filtering into the glade. The conversing also began at this point- a few of them louder and more animated than others. "I must be getting old." Odran muttered to himself, almost surprised in himself that he was complaining about noise. Granted, it was still a few minutes before sunrise, so he could forgive himself for having a shorter temper today.

The group had finally all arrived, so Odran now had the chance to get a look at them all. There was of course the elf in the middle of the glade, a woman who introduced herself as Vivian. She looked young, but of course all elves at any age looked younger than any dwarf, so she could've been twice his age for all he knew. His eyes narrowed when she mentioned that she had flown here. It seemed there was more than met the eye with this one- though that could be said of anyone here. There was a second elf with her horse- she appeared to be perhaps a ranger of sort, armed with a sword and bow and only lightly armored. Odran had noticed her scorched hands, but they were as of yet strangers, and it wouldn't do well for him to be so nosy so soon after meeting. There was a large man on a large horse- to compare Odran to the man would be almost comical. Normal humans were already head and shoulders taller than Odran, this man was head and shoulders taller than most humans. There was a plain looking woman with a staff. She seemed unassuming, which meant she was probably anything but. And of course, there was the ever energetic man bouncing in and out of the glade. He claimed to be a wolf shifter apparently, though with the way he bounced in and out of the glade and how quickly he spoke and changed topics, Odran wouldn't have been surprised if he was actually a bunny shifter- or perhaps a rooster.

Perhaps it was the early morning and lack of sleep, but something about the arrogance brushed Odran's beard the wrong way. To exude confidence was one thing, but as of yet, the pup was unproven in Odran's eyes. As far as Odran was concerned, the pup was just cocky and arrogant. To be fair, the pup reminded Odran of new recruits in the Ironborn Free Company, but new recruits were for the most part hammered and forged into shape by their seniors- or they died quickly on the field. But a young dwarf this was pup not. Back with the Ironborn, Odran didn't have to put his life in the hands of cocky young dwarves. Unfortunately here, Odran might not have that luxury, and the thought of putting his life in the hands of some cocky welp who had just actively told them that he'd choose himself first if push came to shove put him on edge.

"Oi, yer a cocky one naren ye? Greatest warrior here eh?" Odran said with a mirthless chuckle, "Yew can go kill the dragon all by your lonesome canne? Well go on then, go and kill Vaeros and the rest of us will be waitin' for ye right here." Odran said sarcastically, holding up his drinking horn in a fake toast before taking another swig of his drink.

"Nae, I'll give ye some advice, yer greatship," Odran continued, his tone getting slightly less sarcastic, and more serious, "If you're looking to inspire confidence in yeself, dinnae tell folk you're going ta let em die."

Turning the rest of the group, Odran stood up to his full height- that being at least a head shorter than everyone else in the glade, and introduced himself, nodding to each of them as he did. "Odran of clan Stormweaver, Captain of the Ironborn's Corps of Engineers, at yer service. If ye break somming, I'll fix it."

With that, he plopped back down on his seat by his mule, and emptied his drinking horn. Wiping his face with his sleeve, he began pulling armor plates out of his mule's pack and began fitting them onto himself. Now that everyone was here, it was only right that he started getting himself ready as well.

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It'd be funny if Odrans trainer was the dwarf he was talking to before he left lol

"ah Odran, made it to thar Glade on time now 'Ave weh? Was only foolin aboot ya head that thar in front of ole Henler"

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@Moonshadow I agree, battle strategies and tactics would probably develop naturally over time as the characters learn to deal with one another. I imagine their first few fights will be more likely everyone getting in each other's ways as they have little idea how the others fight. Discussions of it would also probably something that would happen during some in character pow wow as well.

As far as Siege engines go- they're big and heavy, expensive, time consuming to build and probably require a full crew to use- so probably a bit beyond the scale of this adventure for Odran. He might try to build things for characters, if they get along well enough and he has access to the right materials... but its more likely than not Odran's tools are mainly going to be there for maintaining equipment, most likely his own, maybe some others' too.

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I feel that

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For some reason I read Odrans voice in a Scottish accent 😂

@Bitterblue111

100% intentional

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Odran Stormweaver

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“Six in tide, Six are true
Six to be lead by a spirit of hue
Long awaited in the endless sin
They are the saviors of many a skin
While they live, he cannot survive
While he is here, they cannot thrive”

“This second verse of the prophesy has long since been forgotten by the peoples of Valeroma, but that does not make them any less true. You have been chosen since before your birth, Vivian, Odran, Zav, Kassandra, Calit, Rosarina, to uphold this prophesy. Only by banding together to confront Vaeros is there any hope for Valeroma. Without you, Valeroma will fall.”

---

Odran woke from his slumber with a start, his grip quickly tightening around the handle of the crossbow cradled in his arms. A sharp intake of breath attracted the attention of a group of sitting nearby him, a squad of 9 other dwarves like him, squatting around and leaning against their packs in the back of a caravan wagon. He and a squad of the Ironborn Free Company were headed back to Stormhold after a long year of patrolling and protecting the mountainside. After a long year of building, fighting, and walking they were finally granted several months of leave in order to handle their own businesses back home.

"Eh? Wassat there Odran? You look like you've seen a ghost ye have." called out Tonner, another veteran dwarf in the squad. Bigger and stouter than even Odran, and usually carrying heavy equipment, the dwarf almost looked under equipped without a massive piece of wood or metal in his arms. A few of the other dwarves in the wagon chuckled as well.

"I very well might've" Odran murmured to himself, as he stood up, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder. "Oi Durnan, whereabouts is the supply wagon again?" Without waiting for an answer, Odran already had his pack over his shoulders and had begun climbing out of the covered convoy wagon where his squad sat, much to the confusion of the others.

There was the thudding of a second pair of feet hitting the ground after him. Odran glanced back to see Tonner following after him. Ignoring him, Odran continued making his way through the caravan, and a few wagons back were the supply carts. Massive wooden boxes on heavyset wheels being pulled by a small contingent of mules, the Ironborn supply carts were small moving armories, set to carry everything the Ironborn Free Company needed. With a heavy gauntleted fist, Odran knocked hard against the side of the cart.

One of the windows opened up and a confused looking dwarf poked his head out the window to see what was going on. Bushy white beard and a huge pair of spectacles made the older dwarf's eyes look like giant bug eyes, with thinning, but still strong and wiry arms. "Oi? Wot is it Odran?" Asked Henler the supply dwarf, still somewhat confused.

"That's what I've been trying to ask him!" grumbled Torren, "'Ave you lost it or something Odran? What's going on?"

Ignoring him, Odran addressed the supply dwarf. "I'll need another combat supply of bolts, a field pack, spare tools, a wee bit of rum and one of tha' pack mules. I've got the scratch for it o'course." he said, producing a heavy coin laden pouch out of his pocket and tossing it up into the cart.

"Eh? For wot?" Asked Henler and Tonner almost simultaneously. Odran ignored them.

"Just get me the gear you cottonheads," Odran said as made his way to the front of the cart and began unshackling one of the mules from the front of the armory wagon- a large bay mule named Rork. Still confused, Henler nonetheless began pulling the supplies out of the armory wagon, and handing them down to Odran who quickly strapped them to the sides of pack mule: A leather covered box filled with 40 heavy quarrels, a field pack with all the typical supplies needed for overland travel- mess kit, bedroll, waterskins, field rations, fishing line, an aid kit and the like- a half full bottle of rum, and a spare set of metalworking tools. Seemingly satisfied with his quick preparations, Odran nodded to himself and began stomping off in the direction of the Forbidden Grove, his pack mule dutifully following behind him.

"Odran! 'ave you been hit in the head or somming? Odran! The war's over, where are ya going?!" Tonner called out after him.

"Seems ta me, the war's just started." Odran muttered to himself, already well out of earshot.

---

Two days later

Having spent the better part of the last 48 hours doing nothing but marching, sparing little more than a few hours out of each day to rest and eat, Odran managed to make it to the Forbidden Grove just before dawn. Rork, the ever faithful mule followed behind him, laden down with the majority of Odran's gear. Odran, who had shed most of his arms and armor, save his crossbow, led the mule into the small clearing in the grove, his footsteps light and quiet despite his weight and bulk.

As it seemed, Odran was not the first to arrive. A few had already arrived in this once quiet grove. They looked familiar to him, despite never having met them. Odran remembered seeing their faces and figures in his dream- he was sure he heard their names as well, but the dream had happened so suddenly that he could not put names to the faces. An elven woman rested against a tree, another elf sat by her horse with some water and rations. Still a third elf had also just appeared into the clearing, making his presence well known as he yelled at one of the sitting elves, breaking the otherwise peaceful silence of the grove, but not before he disappeared back into the trees.

"What's he on about?" Odran asked aloud to no one in particular as he walked across the grove. He looped his pack mule's lead to a try nearby but not directly next to the elf and her horse before taking a seat himself. The sleeping elf in the center of the tree had the right idea, Odran thought to himself. His pack mule must have thought so too, as the mule plopped itself on the ground, ready to rest. Odran plopped down on the ground next to it, leaning his back against the mule's midsection.

Pulling out his drinking horn, Odran poured a small amount of rum into it, before filling the rest of the horn with some water from his waterskin to form a basic grog. He took a big gulp of the drink and let out a satisfied sigh. "I don't suppose anyone knows why we're ta' meet here in some forbidden forest as opposed tae' nice warm tavern with a pitcher to go around do they?" Odran asked aloud, again not to anyone in particular.

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I guess I should point out now that I am not the type of person to make multiple posts a day ^^;

I have work, school and family to take care of as well, please take care not to leave me behind >.>

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A... revolving backpack? I dont even know what that is lol

A revolver on a backpack? A backpack with a revolving chamber? idk how useful that would be.

also, are firearms a thing in this world? are the people walking around with muskets? or are crossbows about as close to a 'firearm'-like weapon as we get?

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I love how everyone's like "oh sweet adventure." and then "oh fuck I have to be there how soon?"

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Odran Stormweaver

^{Credit: Paul Rozhkov
wild_artist.artstation.com}

Odran Stormweaver

Name: Odran Stormweaver
Age: 121
Gender: Male
Race: Dwarf
Appearance:
Odran is a stout and sturdily built dwarf, with a bold stance and an intimidating disposition for one so short. Forged by wine, battle, and song, Odran's girth and thick trunk of a body belies a surprising amount of deft and dexterity. Standing at a height of 5'1", he often stands no higher than the chest of other mortal beings, but is incredibly tall for a dwarf. Despite his diminutive stature, he's often denser than most humans, and certainly weighs an amount comparable to a human upwards of six feet in height.

His body is composed mostly of muscle and bound within the relatively diminutive frame of his race, and his face is adorned with a dense, rough beard, and the dark brown hair over his head is pulled into thick dreadlocks. This thick dwarf dresses in a combination of padded cloth, chain, leather underneath a hardened steel plate carapace, but his short legs stomp on the ground with surprising speed and lightness as he walks. Upon his face sits a wide, fat nose, with a crooked angle from many a fistfight, and hard eyes of steel gray. His face is often adorned with a wry grin, and a camaraderie-filled twinkle in his eye.

Personality:
A loud and boisterous soul, like many a dwarf of Valeroma, Odran much like other dwarves is a stubborn, but honorable, hard headed bloke who prefers ale and song to politics and trickery. Blunt, straightforward and to the point, Odran is rarely afraid to speak his mind and tell things exactly as he sees it. Untrusting of magic and the unnatural, Odran will not hesitate to express his unease over the use of such elements but nevertheless admits their usefulness in many situations. Despite his jovial demeanor, Odran has surprising amounts of depth to his thoughts, his loud cheers and alcohol laden breath a visage for a more logical, intrinsically calculative mind. Odran has a very solid understanding of architecture, engineering, and warfare, and a well developed moral compass.

While Odran is vocal and friendly, and quick to throw the title of comrade around, it isn't until another's character has been demonstrated does Odran truly begin showing trust. Odran carefully observes those surrounding him, judging the character of others even whilst he makes jokes and exchanges story and drink. Odran is honorable and relatively unselfish, though if given the choice, he would prefer him and his own success over others.

Despite his affable nature, when its time to get serious, Odran's demeanor switches to that of a calm and collected professional. A professional soldier through and through, Odran fights with a cold and quiet efficiency, and only rarely allows himself emotional outbursts.

Strengths:
Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy: Odran is a capable career soldier. Proficient with a variety of weapons, armor and tactics, Odran finds himself most at home sitting inside a suit of heavy steel, and either firing a heavy crossbow from a fixed position or charging in with axe and shield. A strong and durable fighter, Odran has considerable staying power in a fight, and has surprising amounts of dexterity and deft with his hands. Odran is also a capable smith and craftsman- able to make repairs to weapons and armor as well as build new ones if given the proper materials.

Weaknesses:
While dexterous and strong, Odran's size and stature does him no favors, and his heavy armor slows him down and reduces his overall movement speed. Odran also prefers fighting on solid ground and would likely sink in the water- on account of his heavy armor and stature. Odran is also incapable of using magic, and must rely on others capable of doing so. Odran is also not a fan of flying, and has a slight fear of heights.

Brief Bio:
A career soldier, engineer, siege specialist, and tinker, Odran was born to the Stormweaver clan, a powerful crafts-clan of some repute, well known throughout Valeroma for their weapons, with many aspiring warriors seeking pieces of armor of weapons crafted by his family. While most took up the family trades, Odran instead went about a different way to seek his fortune. Some took to trade, others took to craftsmanship. Odran took to the sciences- the military sciences, to be precise. Odran joined the ranks of the Stormweaver clan warriors, here he would earn his keep through blood and sweat. The clan warriors were divided into companies, each with their own storied past.

Odran joined the Ironborn Free Company as a combat engineer in its service. With his technical prowess, as well as his skill in combat, Odran advanced steadily through the ranks, becoming a trusted sub-leader of his squad commander by the end of his first campaign across the dwarven mountains. By the end of his second campaign, Odran was given command of his own squad, and by the end of his fifth campaign, he was the commander of the Ironborn Company's engineers, and a notable veteran in his own right. When he was chosen, Odran would reluctantly leave the ranks of his comrades to join the company of the chosen.

Other:
None for now.