Willem Littledale

[sharpgn2]

Willem Littledale - 1379 D.R.

((I consider his portrait a very accurate representation- a young Nathan Fillion is an appropriate description ))

Willem appears young, maybe having seen nineteen winters at most. Standing around 6’2”, he sports dark brown hair and nearly matching eyes, with a clean-shaven face. His frame is built with clear strength, though he is not bulky by most standards. Willem has no identifying scars visible, though his hands are calloused and hardened from many years of hard work.

When traveling Willem don’s well-made plated armors, along with Cloak and pack. His choice weapon is apparent, as one can spy a hilt and pommel over his right shoulder- a Greatsword. Hanging from his pack Willem keeps a Heavy pick and Shortbow as well. His walk gives no sense of overconfidence or lack thereof- it is simply a paced stride to move from one place to the next.

Willem’s face wears a regarding and curious look around his surroundings. For the most part, it’s safe to assume he is approachable. 

Willem Littledale - 1383 D.R.

A young man, maybe in his early if middle twenties, stands at 6'2", sporting dark brown hair and nearly matching eyes. Trimmed facial hair follows his jawline and rises up his chin, joined with a light mustache. He is built with clear strength, though only appears bulky in his plated armors. Willem sports no visible scars, though his hands are calloused and hardened from many years of hard work. His gaze is one that is at times distant, as if staring at the horizon.

When traveling, the man appears prepared, carrying a large pack with an assortment of necessities. His choice of weapon is apparent to any that observe him - an expertly crafted Greatsword, hilt and pommel over his right shoulder, pommel in the shape of the symbol of Shaundakul. His walk is calm - not overbearing and not lacking.

[sharpgn2]

The Littledale Family

Wolter Littledale (1300 - 1365 ) Martine Pender ( 1304 - 1365 )

Janna Littledale ( 1323 - 1329 )
Gerhard Littledale ( 1330 - 1370)
Adelbert Littledale (1335 - ) Jennica Ansley ( 1337 - 1369)

Gerrit Littledale (1356 - )
Willem Littledale (1360 - )
Jana Littledale (1369 - )

Grandparents
Wolter Littledale and Martine Pender marry in 1321- Wolter is the first of the Littledale’s in Asbravn- he comes from Daggerford. Wolter and Martine’s older brother Julyan found the Asbravn Iron Mine, working the first few years themselves and eventually hiring more workers from both Asbravn and Iriaebor.

Wolter is twenty and three years when Martine gives birth to their first child, Janna. Janna only lives for six years before passing away in an unfortunate drowning accident. Their second child, Gerhard, is born within months of Janna’s death. Their third and final child, Adelbert, is born when Gerhard is five.

While Gerhard and Adelbert are young, the mine has a string of successes and luck, expanding, so much so that the Littledale and Pender permit a third to go to a new investor, a miner by the name of Calvin Esmond. It is noted that, despite dropping to a third, Wolter and the Littledales are profiting more than when they had half, even at Gerhard’s birth. When Adelbert reaches his fifth nameday, a new home has been built upon expanded properties. The abundance of material causes shipping to become a routine.

Wolter and Martine pass away, relatively young, the same year, in 1365 DR.

Uncle

Gerhard Littledale was born in 1330 DR. The first son and second child to Wolter and Martine, he is raised with the intent of inheriting the Littledale share of the Asbravn Iron Mine. Gerhard was known to have rebellious tendencies, both within the Littledale house and Asbravn. He was ill attentive in his schoolings, and a prankster that gained the animosity of the elder population. When coming of age, he made it very apparent that he was to be a soldier, and often bothered Riders in Red to start training him. Wolter would have none of this, oft going to the Redcloak’s commander to drag his son back home, or to the mines. Though Gerhard showed signs of progress, he departed Asbravn in 1349 DR, much to the disdain of his family.

Gerhard would travel abroad, going west, and eventually turning east to Cormyr. There, he would find his place as a Sellsword, and it was there that he found a faith in Shaundakul. Oft not one to remain in one place long, he took every opportunity to guard a caravan here and there, returning to Cormyr now and again. News would reach him of the death of his mother, which would end his travels abroad- he arrived just short of his father’s death in 1365.

Parents

Adelbert, the younger of the two brothers, was fairly quiet in his youth, and was much the opposite of his well-known troublemaking brother. Adelbert took his schoolings serious, and began work at the Iron Mine relatively early. He spent his free time improving his skills in the trade, learning from the teamsters, miners, and the Pender’s/Esmond about the workings of the business. Though he was promised a place in the family business, he was never formally prepared for ownership- until Gerhard made his move. This spurred Wolter to train his youngest, who drank in what knowledge he could.
Adelbert would grow fond of the single daughter of a neighboring farm, Jennica Ansley. A few years younger than him, the two would secretly spend time together whenever Adelbert had time away from the Mine. Upon Wolter’s discovery, Adelbert stood brave and announced he planned to marry the young woman, to the shock of his (and her) parents. Jennica would take the Littledale name on Greengrass 1355. It is believed that the fertility festival held to its name, as their first child, Gerrit, was born just nine months later.

Willem

Gerrit would be reaching his fourth nameday as their second child, Willem was born. The 1360’s, though a prosperous time for the Littledale’s, was also one of tragedy. Willem was five years old when both of his grandparents passed away, leaving the business to his father. His uncle Gerhard arrives in time to say goodbyes to his father, however Adelbert does not receive him well, and for many months did not open his house to his older brother- who made no protest. Though Gerhard would integrate back into Asbravn via joining the Redcloaks and taking a room in the Littledale house, the tension between the two brothers was often palpable, though both made efforts to ensure that Jennica, Gerrit and Willem were not caught in the middle. The last year of the 1360’s would bring to the world Jana, Adelbert’s youngest child- but at the cost of Jennica, who died in childbirth. With his mother’s death, and his father lost in mourning, Willem attached himself to his Uncle for a time, who helped him cope with the loss. This bonding, however, would be cut short just a year later, as in 1370 an onset of attacks by giant kind in the Sunsets would find its way to the Asbravn Iron Mine, where an attack in mid-autumn would be fatal for his Uncle, who died in the defense.

These events left Willem, his siblings, and his father. Though Gerrit was being trained to take on the family business, in 1373 it was made apparent that he would be taken by the Redcloaks, as the customary volunteer from each family. This caused Willem to become the next in line. The 1370’s for Willem would be various schooling’s in both operation and business, as well as languages and trade. Adelbert had been working with the other owners to seek foreign contacts for another expansion into the Sunset Mountains. Willem was to be an interpreter and take part in negotiations. For the most part Willem appeared to be compliant to these needs, though a series of events in 1378 and 1379 would cause him, as his uncle before him, to depart Asbravn.

((An OOC note- if you have characters that are old enough to have been around for Gerhard's travels in Cormyr, I am ok with someone wishing to know of him or something like that- however, he was fairly average and not noteworthy... he did survive forty years as a sellsword, so that is something))

[sharpgn2]

((In case you haven't figured it out this is my random thread- tidbits for Willem))


“Do you’ve a mouth, boy?”

Willem was silent a moment, half in confusion at his father’s question, half in formulating a response. An argument was at a standstill, but where it started was… cloudy? The Study, as his Grandfather had called it, was the smaller of the rooms on the ground floor, but housed all that was necessary for his father’s workings. A chill in the room was a reminder that it was early Alturiak. The air was mostly still, with exception to a candelabra, which flames caused rising bits of smoke. The desk between the two was cluttered with paper, parchments, correspondence and necessities to write. His father leaned over the desk, his head dipped but eyes up and upon Willem. Quill in hand, he held the silence of the room. The quill dropped, bringing more noise to the room then the previous licks of candle flame.

“You do. An’ so does little Jana. So do I, asah’ matter a’fact. Mouths need t’be fed, Willem. We’ve a month an’ a half till th’ Spring Equinox. Wha’ fills yer’ nightly plate, when ye’ so feast at dinner, or when we break er’ fast in the morn? Do tell, Willem, do the Gods come down an’ with magics fill yer plate? An affair a’ no cost, ‘free’?” There was a sneer, and Willem drew a breath to reply, but his father cut him short.
“It’s th’ dead of winter, and while the Iron Mine’ll be closed t’ spring, I need ya here. I need you to help look afta’ yer sister, and I need ya t’do your share of work around the home an’ for the folk down th’ road in Asbravn. Wha’ I don’ need is ya runnin’ off with onna’ Taintain’s Caravans to ‘explore’. Iriaebor, Berdusk an’ Eastin’ ‘er bigger towns then Asbravn, I’ll give ya that, but what comes with that is dangers, an uncer’tenties. You remind me of m’Brother at times- Damn him, he hooked y’inta his way’a thinkin’…”

Willem glanced away, some anger building inside. Why couldn’t he take a job with one of the Caravans for a month, go to the Southern towns and come back? His father was often unreasonable to anything he wanted anyhow; that’s when Willem realized Jana, his little sister, was watching- she gave him a shush motion, and he turned back,

---


.....only for his eyes to slowly open- he felt cold. The winds above caused trees all about to strain, creak, and crackle- their leaves rustling in a symphony that marched from North to South. It was a dream- a dream that was a mere snippet of his past, but a reminder of what drives him. Willem had opted to sleep under the stars that night- well, the canopy. This little bit of the Bramble was safe enough to do so; gathering his things after stretching and shivering from the morning chill, he noted a glow coming from the east. Another day, another sunrise to witness. He set out for a high ground to do just that.

[sharpgn2]

Alturiak, 1380

A howl and cry at the mouth of the cavern, the constant reminder of the deadly storm. Snow cascaded from the heavens, coating all in it’s path, a gelid torrent of white and nothing else. What shelter there was here merely kept death’s grasp out of reach.

Huddled in a corner, a crumpled figure sought relief from a slowly gaining flame, fueled by makeshift tinder and little more than kindling. The tiny world of this place was but ragged breath, the never-ending howl from without, and the crackling afforded by progressive flame. Gear was strewn about haphazardly; a pack searched through and abandoned, twine and rope tangled, bloodied bandages draped here and there, shattered vials of glass, tattered rags coated in crimson.

For Willem, the shelter around him was drowned out by two feelings – pain, and cold. Never ending, never ceasing, cold. It had been hours since he had felt his feet, and half as much since he felt what his fingers grasped. Left hand continued to put what he could only guess the proper amount of pressure on the gathering of rags, a vain attempt at best to stop the bleeding from a large gash on the right side of his body.

At this very moment, everything was against the man. Willem had lost a lot of blood, used an antidote to stop the poisoning, and now did what little he could to stave off the cold. To keep going was to have a plan, to have a next step, a tasking of what he needed to do. The fire was made, warming the corner of the inlet enough to stave off the worst of the cold. Now he had to keep it burning. Had to try and stay awake. Had to drink some water…

…though his struggled movements played out to be doing these things, Willem’s mind found itself lost in memory, recent and otherwise.

---

The Bloodstone Pass was a place he had never heard of nor thought he would ever find himself in, despite his dedications to Shaundakul and his want to let the wind take his footsteps. The peoples of the Pass were reserved, honest, and under hard times. A traveler in their midst, regardless of intent, was cause for concern.

Willem had doffed his armors earlier in the day and sat within the common room of a tiny Inn, Warren’s Crossing. The Inn stood upon a crossroads and overlooked a bridge across the Beaumaris River. In warmer months, the views around might have been worthy of several sketches; in the dead cold of Hammer, it was best to keep close to the hearthfire. When he paid for a room with Sembian Ravens, that turned heads. When he was honest about the dagger he kept on him and being part of some distant mercenary company, that caused whispers.

In warm clothes and a thick cloak the young man nursed an age perry and kept to himself. In his travels he found it interesting to hear the common talk folk had in places such as these. Of course, despite this being a trade route, the appearance of a stranger in the dead of Winter was rare, and so he did not enjoy such conversation.

Instead, he was approached directly by the Inn keep, an aging man that had a shield of crimson prominently displayed in the common room – a veteran of Damara to the east. Sitting down, the man was blunt – Willem was a mercenary, and the older man had some coin stashed away and a problem to settle. Something about the description of the horror witnessed, coupled with the uncertainties of not only this veteran – but the other folk watching the conversation – should have given Willem a second guess.

In reality, however, the young man was too curious to object. He was well travelled – trained by a blademaster unlike any other he had met or heard of – and still held the youthful confidence of one who has seen their share of one too many victories. A healthy stack of Damaran golden coin, for the head of a monstrous beast that prowled the eves and terrorized the local peoples. It wasn’t the first time he had taken on a contract of this nature.

---

The waterskin was near empty. He nursed the water, not sure if he recalled a lad back in Cormyr telling him to survive was to ration it – or that one was supposed to drink what they had for strength. The former seemed to make sense. A couple pieces of seasoned ash were carefully laid over the tender and starting to burn.

A sack, stained in blackish liquids, was tied and tossed opposite of where Willem rested. Bulges and points in all directions named whatever to be inside to be a strange shape. What was within was the very creature he was hired to kill – and, probably, the creature that would ultimately see him to his demise.

Willem was a touch smarter and more well-read than most gave the mercenary credit for. When he realized just what it was he was made to face, he wished the innkeep had been more specific in his description – he would have told the man that he wasn’t enough. For within that stained sack was the head of a Bone Devil.