[center][h2][color=a36209]Gwillim Gunnvaldr[/color][/h2][sub]Husband of [color=E3a777]Scyrvensrel Talyrrth-Gunnvaldr[/color] [@Amethyst] and [?] of [TBA] [@"?"]
Interacting with: [color=E3a777]Scyrven[/color] [@Amethyst][/sub][/center]
Gwillim Gunnvalder stalked through the streets, towering over most of his peers, his mate matching his pace. He was never fond of the capitol city, Železna Kri. He visited only when he was required too. He much preferred to be out in the wilds, than cramped into this reeking and filthy city. Gwillim couldn't see more than stagnation and decay in the walls around him, but it was the way of things. He was glad his father had won the honor of being a warlord and so had private lodgings away from the lesser lords, eager to scrap with anything that moved and breathed. Gwillim grew tired of wasting his time and efforts on such pathetic opponents, his own mate Scyrvensrel could best most of them with only one arm. At last they arrived at the family palace, of sorts, and left the clamoring, clogged streets behind. Gwillim grunted in satisfaction, and saluted the head of the family guard, briefly locking horns with the slightly shorter drakken. Then he bid his mate make herself at home, before heading to the family shrine, to pay his respects to the gods.

Leaving the shrine he noticed the family had set about their usual flaunting of skill and wit. With matches against eachother, in groups or as individuals. The elders kept watch, lest serious injury be caused by family, before the real testing was done in public as proof of worthiness should any challenge the prince’s judgment on who had earned their brides. He strode confidently towards his father, but was intercepted by two younger cousins determined to prove their mettle against him. He checked to be sure it was just the two of them he was challenging before taking the time to enjoy tossing the small boys about. They weren’t weak, or udersized, they just couldn’t match Gwillim pound for pound, and neither had the experience to get his mass to work against him. Gwillim repeatedly sidestepped charges, cuffing the lads behind the head or shoulders to send them tumbling in to the dust.  Eventually they advanced as a pair, but by now were to worn out to be much of a challenge to their much larger cousin. Gwillim held the at bay with ease, mocking them until their father came by and urged them to try their luck on less daunting foes before taking on Gwillim.

For his part, Gwillim resumed his path towards his father. His way was not blocked again, and he soon arrived, nodding and grunting in greeting to the man that had sired him. His father was shorter than he was, though only by a few centimeters. His father grunted back, and continued watching the boys play.  Later they would discuss the pros and cons of aligning with either prince, but for now talk was centered on which of the boys was most likely to survive long enough to become a strong Drakken warrior. Though, even this was often little more than a grunt and a sharp gesture of the horns at a particular boy. The boys knew to leave their real strength for fighting other drakkan, but they played hard all the same, the better to be ready to fight others. In a few more decades Alfhildr would join the boys, and Gwillim meant to see to it that she’d hold her own. His daughter was growing stronger every day, and he pushed her to excel in her training. And so far she had met every challenge with exuberance, if not skill or grace. But those were coming along, or so Gwillim hoped, though his idea of grace would not be recognizable to most gems.

Gwillim wondered where his mate had wandered off too, she was welcome anywhere in the compound, excepting the bedrooms assigned to other family members. Actually, there were probably a few who wouldn’t mind welcoming her into their bed chambers, thought Gwillim wasn’t the least bit concerned that his wife would stray. He had long since learned of her preference in companions and respected her preference… It was odd, yes, but it didn’t make her weak in any way and she still played her part, giving birth to their striking young daughter Alfhildr. Gwillim hoped she’d find some … pleasure in the Gem bride he was looking forward to earning this reaping. He’d done each prince a minor task in his lands, and both had promised a bride, but he suspected those promises would only hold true if he pledged loyalty to that prince’s cause. Still, he might get to steal a bride the one granted proved too… unsatisfactory for Scyrvensrel. 
[hider=Summary] Gwillim and Scyrvensrel arrive in Železna Kri. Gwillim is unimpressed by the city, and heads straight for the family home in town. There he joins his family in preparing for the reaping. [/hider]