Post by bereg on Jul 22, 2012 11:26:54 GMT -5
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Bereg
Here we go mistaking clouds for mountains
Autonomy
full name, Bereg (coincidentally, there is a Bereg of Bëor, but that was way back in the First Age)
nicknames, None, unless if you count any of the insults spat at him during fights.
age, Nineteen
class/profession, Seaman of a Gondorian naval ship based at Dol Amroth; lower-class
marital status, Single
race, Man
alliance, War? Saruman? Gandalf? To be frank, screw them all. He’s only interested in surviving, making sure his mother and sister are surviving, and helping his friends survive.
hair, Reddish-brown and short, never tidy because he couldn’t care less.
eyes, Green-grey, more green than grey.
build and body, Thin from what his class entails, yet fit at the same time from constantly working (and getting into fights when there’s no ship to work on... or the not-so-occasional friendly pseudo-wrestling game with one or two fellow seamen).
anything else, Bunch of scars from a bunch of fights. Nothing horrendous or earth-shattering in terms of personal memories and/or emotions, though.
face claim, Eddie Redmayne
likes,
- Sunlight glittering on water: Nothing deep. It’s just mesmerising to look at. Bereg’s never (directly) told a soul about liking this, but anyone catching him gazing at the sea in full daylight would be able to tell just from the look on his face.
- Nice people: It’s nice to have someone, well, be nice to you, especially after years of fighting on the streets and being looked down on just because he was born into a class he didn’t even choose to be born into.
- The smell of seawater: Reminds him of the enjoyable things his job entails – being away from land, where things don’t smell as natural and the reality of being poor hits him hardest in the face.
- The fiddle: He can’t play the fiddle, but he likes listening to it and would gladly learn how to play it. It makes a nice, raw sound.
- Meat: The juicier the better, the hotter the better. Tasty meat for him is rare, though, as 1) the captain always gets the best parts, and 2) the price.
dislikes,
- People picking on his sister: Unfortunately, this doesn’t happen rarely. Protective of his sister, Bereg often reacts with his fists. He constantly worries about her whenever he’s away from her.
- People picking on the involuntarily weak in general: To Bereg, there is a huge difference between someone to chooses to run away from a fight, and someone who has no option but to do so. Picking a fight with the latter is, to him, a form of exploitation.
- The family income: With his mother and sister as seamstresses and he just a seaman, there’s not much to survive on after a month of hard work. And it isn’t fair in Bereg’s eyes, but there’s nothing he can do about it – after all, who’s going to listen to a mere seaman and worse – one who had stood on trial?
- Corsairs: Damn pirates killed a guy he wasn’t on bad terms with.
- Fate: Doesn’t like the concept, doesn’t like talking about it, doesn’t like hearing about it. Because if fate really exists, then where’s all his hard toil leading to?
strengths,
With his hot-headed reactions, Bereg grew up fighting with the neighbourhood boys on the streets, hence his physical strength, as well as his ability to withstand pain for a considerably long time. This is also thanks to being quite the determined person, never eager to back down from a fight or lose it for the sake of his pride. He is very protective of his loved ones (although that’s not a lot of people, to be frank). He also has high alcohol tolerance, a trait, according to his mother, passed down by his father.
weaknesses,
Also due to pride, however, is a refusal to let go of any hard feelings. If he loses a fight or argument, then he’d want another go. Hot-headed and reactive, very rarely does he respond to criticism or insults well, whether by himself (when the other party is of a superior status/rank – this is when he kicks furniture or repeatedly bang his fists against a wall) or… not by himself (read: fights). He doesn’t see much importance in keeping a decent (at least) appearance, and at times can be seen wearing a horrendously atrocious combination of colours just because the pieces feel comfortable to his skin. Furthermore, he tends to choose reward and/or survival over honour, finding ‘honourable sacrifices’ too petty in comparison to his family’s financial situation, which is also the reason why he can barely read and write, having stopped (home)schooling to start work at a young age.
fears, Death: Nineteen to Bereg is an awfully young age to die at. In fact, in his opinion, he hasn’t even lived much. Not being able to support his mother and sister is another fear, as well as avian droppings randomly plummeting down from the sky. And shame. He can’t face shame.
dreams, A comfortable life. He doesn’t need anything fancy and sparkly, but the certainty of food on the table every day isn’t much to ask for, is it? He'd also like to know how to read and write more than just his name and the names of his family.
personality,
To Bereg, there’s no honour1 in sacrificing your mother or sister’s dinner for, well, what the rich and stable call honour. Bereg’s raison d’etre is his family, and his modus operandi involves making sure his raison d’etre still lives on by whatever means necessary. This results in a personal emphasis on practicality: he’d pick speed and simplicity over show and (false) glory anytime, whatever gets the job over and done with. He has little time for pondering over his morals, and to be honest, most morals are petty to him. There’s only one that he consciously sticks to: don’t pick on the involuntarily weak. The disabled, for example, or women and children who already spend so much energy in holding an entire household together while working to support it. And yet, his financial and social position/s (low as dirt, to be frank), as well as uncultured upbringing have produced scant manners, so his chivalry in relation to protecting the weak takes the form of rough, rugged actions instead of exerted grandeur and gallantry.
So yeah, there’s at most only a wisp of honour in him, but that’s different from loyalty. He can’t say there’s a lot whom he’s loyal to, but when he decides someone’s worth of loyalty, they can be assured he’s got more than just their back. Because it takes hellfire for him to decide whether someone’s worth his loyalty or not: it’s going to involve getting into deep trouble together, getting out of deep trouble together, and serious savings of each other’s gluteus maximae. Loyalty, however, is not the same as obedience. Loyal as he can be, Bereg isn’t the most obedient person. Actually, you can’t even call him normally obedient. Because obedience entails an establishment of authority, while loyalty doesn’t necessarily entail that, and Bereg’s too stubborn to (completely) submit to the authority of others. He’s not one to not question an order or even speak (er, suggest) against it, often earning him a reprimand.2 At the very least.
He doesn’t talk much about his emotions, or emotional things. Illiteracy prevents him from doing so: he doesn’t know half the words to express to a most accurate degree what’s on his mind and heart. For the same reason, introspection’s difficult too. And he doesn’t talk about ~beautiful things~ (the view of a sunrise, for example, or sunlight glimmering on water) with others because he feels that some things are just better appreciated when shared in silence with another, that there’s a sort of individuality pulsating in the act of appreciating a particular beauty, and this individuality is going to be shattered by words. (Subconsciously, he doesn’t want to face the possibility that individuality is fuelled by literacy, that one’s idea of their self is expanded, not restricted, by the addition of new words to one’s vocabulary. That he’s just a rowdy urchin.)
1 (This description may seem to contradict a certain part of Bereg's history, but I am using the word honour as in I will gladly
2 (Of course, 'normal' orders such as disposing of a rat or watching over a sick fellow-seaman are followed.)
father, Amloth; 40 (now); tailor; deceased (at Osgiliath)
mother, Malen; 38; seamstress
siblings, Beleth; 13; seamstress
other figures, Amath; 22; a fellow seaman
lineage, Gondor
history,
Bereg was born in the first circle of Minas Tirith. That is, the lowest circle, where the lowest of the low could be found, should one dare to walk any farther from the Old Guesthouse and deeper into the circle. His parents made a living by dressing the citizens of Minas Tirith. Well, not quite. At most they would receive a customer or two from the second circle, but for the most part, they made and repaired clothes for others on the first circle. Although they were skilled in their work, the living they made wasn’t much of a living, but a survival – after all, what (albeit skilled) worker of the first circle honestly cared about a new dress or coat? Before his age even hit the double digits, Bereg was already working – tending to the household chores at first, then actually helping his father with tailoring. Education was limited; all he got were a few brief lessons on Westron from his mother, and the rest consisted of copying random words lying around the streets in the minimal free time he had.
Adding to that, Bereg’s sister was "sick," to quote his parents. Born when he was six, Beleth was speech-impaired – that is, she did not have the ability of speech. Bereg had grown affectionate and protective of her since before she turned one, and it didn’t take long for him to understand that she did not choose to not be able to speak. The other boys of the first circle, on the other hand, found it fun to pick on her. Insult her. Potentially harm her. Out of anger, Bereg would often react with his fists, consequently getting into fights all the time. Because of this, he made more enemies than friends during his youth.
Perhaps he truly thought it would make a difference to his family’s wellbeing. Whatever the reason was, in TA 3017, Bereg’s father had enlisted in the army and was soon sent to help guard Osgiliath. In TA 3018, he died there in the midst of defending the city.
The same year, Bereg had gotten into a fight that would land him out of Minas Tirith. On a certain evening just two months after his father’s death, one of his sister’s bullies had begun insulting her again. This time, however, Bereg had ignored him, thoughts and mood too heavy from the sudden knowledge that his father wasn’t ever coming back to him. Then, the bully insulted his mother. Finally, he insulted his father. Cliché as it sounds, Bereg still doesn’t really remember what happened next, but he did remember being pulled away by a city guard, the bully covered in blood and nearly dying.
When he went on trial, Bereg was damn scared. He had absolutely no understanding of how law in Minas Tirith really worked, and for the longest time he was certain of execution. But he wasn’t sentenced to death. Instead, the judge had thought “…some time away from the city could improve the boy’s emotional health… amongst other things.” And before he knew it, Bereg was in Dol Amroth, sentenced to at least half a year’s labour at the docks, depending on his attitude during then.
The upside: he was seriously out of Minas Tirith.
The downside: they wouldn’t let his mother and sister follow him.
It was in Dol Amroth that he met Amath. Amath was a seaman of a naval ship stationed there. For a few months, that particular ship wasn’t needed for action, for whatever reason. Their first meeting wasn’t something you’d call friendly. To be specific, the first time they met they had a fight. Amath, who was familiar with the workers at the docks, had been curious enough to ask the newcomer Bereg too many nosy questions. And Amath wasn’t exactly the most eloquent man, either. A certain comment about Bereg’s father’s ‘whereabouts’ and Bereg jumped him. Amath was three years older, taller, and had more muscles. Bereg had been losing from the start, but stubborn refusal to retreat pushed him to fight on. Surprisingly (or not), this won Amath’s respect. He quickly grew fond of Bereg, and Bereg, most likely because Amath had so far – not counting their brawl, of course – treated him with a sort of niceness he had never really received, quickly took a liking to him in turn. When they both had time, Bereg would talk about life in waterless Minas Tirith, while Amath would talk about life in waterfull Dol Amroth, life aboard a ship, and, perhaps most importantly, he taught Bereg how to swim.
Eight months after his trial, Bereg was judged once more. Two months after that, he was given two options: 1) go home to his mother and sister, or 2) stay and work in Dol Amroth.
He was expected to decide right on the spot. There wasn’t enough time to think things through. So, quite impulsively, he chose the latter. And while doing so he was foolish enough to assume that he would be allowed to see his family on a regular basis, because, from the look on the judge’s face, it seemed that his choice was a good one. Only, it was good because now, there was a fresh recruit for the Gondorian naval force.
Training aside, there wasn’t much to do at first. Bereg lived in the ship, which was coincidentally the same one Amath had been assigned to years ago. Although naval discipline did contribute to this, it was not the only reason for a noticeable decrease in Bereg’s violent tendencies: perhaps it was because he was at the time the youngest amongst the ship’s seamen, but he felt that he was being looked out for by them, not just Amath. A small portion of them knew how to read and write, and were even willing to help write letters to his mother and sister for him. Generally, he was becoming more at ease – happier, even.
Less than a year after his recruitment, he got his first taste of battle. He had been in fights before, the type that left him bruises and scars, but they could as well be child’s play compared to a battle. Where actual bloodshed happened. When the ship was attacked by Corsair pirates, he remembered telling himself that it was just another fight, he was going to live. And then. He saw them. The pirates. Freezing on the spot wasn’t his intention at all, and before he knew it, one of them was charging at him.
Maybe he should have moved. Dodged. Twitched. Done something. Because whatever he should have done, it could have saved a life. One particular seaman (ten years older than Bereg, and quite brotherly) had, at the last minute, blocked the attack for Bereg, resulting in near-instant death.
Eventually, the Corsairs were defeated. The men cheered. Bereg felt like a coward and, in the span of sixty seconds maximum, had accumulated enough guilt and shame to fill the belly of a hungry dragon. It wasn’t until the next attack when he, unexpectedly hit by the chance to redeem himself, decided to pull himself together and do so. He wasn’t killing pirates for glory. He wasn’t even doing it for Gondor. He was doing it so that the people who cared about him – and the people he cared about – would have a higher chance of seeing tomorrow.
Now, he’s still serving on the same ship. With the King’s return (finally!) and Gondor torn in two (at least) between him and the former Ruling Steward Denethor, it’s getting increasingly difficult to communicate with his mother and sister. He’s not planning on dying without seeing them. And he hopes the bloody war finishes soon.
(Tolkien didn't focus much on the Corsair pirates, but it seems reasonable to assume that, prior to the fleet of 50 great ships thing, Dol Amroth was attacked several times by them, no matter how 'small-scale' they were. I'm also keeping naval details vague for roleplaying reasons.)
alias, Friedrich
age, Why, of course I am a 5000 year-old elf…
experience, 4.5 years
other characters, Faramir
rp sample,
Please read any of Faramir’s posts.
credit to phips, don't steal!
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