Lord Owain Wyndham
THE BASICS
Name: Lord Owain Wyndham
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
Name: Lord Owain Wyndham
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
Gender: Male
Age: 21
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Hazel
General Appearance: Owain is tall... ish. Hes definitely not a towering mountain despite a rumor or two to the contrary. Creative license, he would explain, when met with disappointment upon meeting someone who had heard of him. He wasnt short though. He was, in his own estimation, the precisely perfect height. His hair was the perfect color, not too brown, not too blonde. His eyes were the perfect color, not too brown, not too green. His skin was, well, you get the idea.
This was not to say he was vain (though he very much was), but depending on where you lived and what you had heard he was either ridiculously perfect or a cautionary tale, the Lord who could have had it all had he just been more like his mother, his brothers, his sisters, his cousins, his kin, his servants, his stablehand, his familys dogs, his horse but most of all his father, the Great and Capitalized Grand Duke of The Singing Mountains.
Oh... Owain also had a perfect singing voice but thats not really appearance is it... hmm... its not really personality either. Where does that little tidbit go?
HISTORY
Personality: Hed been called a layabout. Hardly, he complained. He preferred the back of a horse or dancing and neither of those were done laying down. Hed been called a reprobate. Hed actually had to look that up in one of the many books in the library of his family's home to learn what it meant and then seek clarification. Was he supposedly unprincipled or beyond hope of salvation? He felt this was an important distinction.
Hed been called a fair many things, not all of them bad but most of them bad. His favorite was great disappointment. Or was it terrible disappointment? It was actually both, it was just phrased as a question because sometimes it was fun to play dumb. It was supposed to have been a warning, that appellation (hang on a second while he goes down to the library to look up appellation to make sure he was using it right... back... he wasnt... but was going with it anyway)... it was supposed to be a warning, that appellation but instead, he took it as a challenge.
Sexual Preferences: Heterosexual though he does live with a band of merry men
House (Great or should that be Terrible?): House Wyndham
About Your character: What more need to be said? Lord Owain Wyndham is the greatly disappointing son of the infallible Grand Duke Robin Wyndham, the beloved little boy of the kind and understanding Grand Duchess Lyta Wynhdam, brother of the lovely and sweet and everything good in the world Lady Cecilia, and probably kin to a few others who deserved effuse praise.
Owain had never been the brightest Wyndham, which of course immediately relegated him to the oh what a shame branch of the family tree. That was the branch where all the letters in the names were just ever so slightly smaller than the rest and a bit more like block printing than the elegant scrollwork that normally indicated the Wyndham hand.
Note: He did, in fact, have elegant handwritting but his spelling was atrosheus.
He was eight when he first learned he didnt quite measure up. He recalls this because it was the year hed gotten his first horse. It wasnt his first time on a horse but this one was his. This is only relevant in that it was a pleasant memory clouded by an unpleasant one for he recalls hearing his father turn to his mother and say, If only he took to his studies that way.
He tried, he really did but he just couldnt sit at a desk or a table. His feet would shuffle, his fingers would drum, hed fidget, fidget, fidget all while looking toward the window doing the math in his head to see if he could still fit through it after his latest growth spurt. He was more tall than wide, he figured, could still slip through if he wiggled through on one side but his math wasn't much better than his spelling.
He was just a plain old run-of-the-mill disappointment at twelve but a terrible disappointment at fourteen. That just happened to be the year he discovered girls, so he should be excused. At sixteen he was a great disappointment. But really, was he? He might have stayed if he was still just a plain old disappointment. He might have even stayed if he was still only a terrible one. But great? He wasnt sure he could claim greatness in anything.
This troubled him for there was a saying about the Wyndham. Not exactly a motto or even a mantra. Hed have to go down into the library to find the right word to use but hed been banned after finding a stash of trashy romantic ballads and giving the monk who oversaw the place a conniption when hed asked him to explain a few of the choicer bit that Owain hadnt understood. He had managed to look up the word conniption before the ban, but he didnt know what to call the saying, so hed leave it at that, there was a saying about the Wyndham and though Owain might have been a disappointment at sixteen, he hadnt been a great one. He was now twenty and ready to reassess.
"I think they're trying to arrest him," a man said. He was the biggest of the group and sometimes called The Giant. There was a song that claimed he was over seven feet tall though the truth was he was only a few inches over six. He was big though and more than a little grizzled, from the prickly graying stubble on his chin down to the gravel in his voice.
"But we have a letter from their king," another said. He was the youngest of them all with a head of mousy brown hair that fell to his shoulders and no matter how much he combed it it got tangled in knots the moment the wind gusted.
"Since when do you believe the word of a king?" the larger man asked, to which the younger had no answer.
"Point Kromley," a third man chimed in after a moment had passed.
I didn't know we were playing points," the younger man exclaimed, turning in his saddle to face the judge. He had in longer hair than the boy's but rather than let it tangle it was braided into rows. The young one glanced at a fourth in the party, the silent one, who only shrugged.
Were always playing points, the braided one said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world as he leaned casually over the pommel of his saddle and gazed down the road where a group of men blocked the road and spread out along the sides, only one of them facing away.
Do you believe the kings word? moving one, the younger one asked a fifth, his hair and dress marking him as a monk of The Makers path. He also had a really long stick with a cross on the end of it, in case you werent sure.
Of course not, he monk said gently, not because he was a gentle man (it was a very big stick with a cross on the end of it that he carried) but because it was such a naive question he didnt have the heart to hit the younger man over the head for how stupid the question was.
But I do believe his fathers, the monk explained why he, like the older man up front, was not overly concerned.
A Wyndham doesnt lie, they said in spontaneous unison (except the silent one), voices a little high and full of smug self-importance before bursting into laughter (the silent one at least smiled), all of it loud enough the man up ahead, the one who had been facing away, turned back with a reproachful glare.
Apologies Lord Wyndham, one of them called up to him, the laughter softening to chuckles that didnt travel quite as well.
Its not like we ever robbed any of the Breits. Breets? Breitanians? What do you call them here? the young one asked but before he could answer another wondered.
What about that fancy pants one?
That fancy pants one? he asked, pointing at Lord Wyndhams pants as he rode slightly up ahead talking quietly to Kromley, to which the other nodded.
But we paid him for them, the young one continued, trying to work through the events that had led them to this strange new land, well, new for him.
No, we paid him for his troubles, we stole his pants, Leigh Ceyln said, scratching at one of his braids.
His fancy pants, the monk corrected, to which Leigh agreed, his fancy pants.
Does that count? Davii, the young one wondered. Both Leigh and the monk shrugged, neither was sure.
Why cant we come?
It was only Davii who wondered as they parted way at a tavern in a nearby village.
The Lords and Ladies of Breiton, theyre...
Lord Wyndham was maybe a disappointment. He might even be a great disappointment, however, he was still a Wyndham and at least tried to be careful with his words.
Delicate little flowers, Leigh offered, to which Owain pointed in a gesture which said as clear as day, yes, that before adding a, but...
We might scare them, Kromley translated for One Eye, who actually had two eyes but no tongue and of them all was the only one that was truly scary since Kromley was sort of a big teddy bear once you got to know him.
But Prince Erdu might risk offending King Stephan and send men after us, he noted, as this was the real reason he wanted them to stay behind in town.
You did steal his crown, the monk pointed out in that tone a good monk could take and make you feel guilty without sounding judgmental. Owain often wondered how he did it. He often also complained when he used it on him.
He still has his throne, Owain complained (see). It was a nice crown though, a big heavy jewel-encrusted gold crown and Owain had big plans for it.
But... he said, trying to get back on track.
But yes, WE did steal his crown and he might want it back in which case his men will have to come through here and if they do, well, you know, he said.
He means you should kill them, Leigh whispered to One Eye, loud enough for all to hear.
Well, you know... Owain said, mounting his horse and spurring it back onto the road, the road to Rosemont.
