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The Otter
BrokenPromiseName: Byden Yardynsson
Alias: None as of yet.
Age: Ten and Seven years, and without even a proper beard.
Gender: Male
House: As the offspring of a impoverished merchant, he is a freeman but not quite befitting of a proper surname. Instead labeling himself merely as Yardyn's son.
Appearance: Young Byden is a homely boy of middling stature. He is black of hair, and brown of eye with the look of Pentos and Dorne about him. He is not hideous by any means, but his teeth are a bit too crooked, and his nose hooked, and his eyes are sunk far too much into his head. His skin is crisped near red from exposure, and has a splotched, unhealthy look common to the sun-burnt merchant sailors. Under his lip, and in patches on his cheeks grows a scraggly beard, new grown and perhaps detrimental to the desired effect to make himself appear older and wiser. Yet despite his homely appearance Byden seems strong and capable enough, with calloused hands and broad shoulders and sturdy legs, well tuned to the pitch and roll of a ship in motion. The lad carries himself like a seaman even, with short stride, lots of arm swaying, and with his head cocked sideways and a snarky grin of perpetual challenge on his lips. The last part has more to do with his temperament, and is in fact the reason he has a crooked nose, and a few missing teeth... He garbs himself accordingly to the profession of his father, in loose sleeveless tunics and baggy pants that look as if many years ago they might have been fine clothing, but have long since been stained and tattered. Of course beneath all these outward aspects lies the voice of an angel, or at least that's what his mother claimed. The sharp tenor bark for his spoken word well conceals his capacity to sing, with admirable talent. On his hip swings a sturdy looking flanged mace, looped through his belt by a thin bit of twine, and on his head a steel halfhelm, dented but well cared for by the look of it.
Personality: Bold as he is young and inexperience, lacking entirely the talents necessary to be a merchant man. Rash, headstrong, proud and easily made the fool Byden wears his heart on his sleeve and speaks his mind with self-absorbed surety. He is a fighter at heart, and a troublemaker to boot often tickling at the nerves of his companions with pricks and prods and insinuated insults or even direct ones. His brother Tebyn often said Byden should have been born a lord to account for his nature, as only the highborn can get away with acting better then thou all the time. He is not without backing to his personality however. Alongside the many bruises, broken noses, and mud eating that came of being an irritating bastard comes a level of experience which gives him the capacity to back up his audaciousness, with a quick jab and a quicker dodge. He is only seventeen of course, and there are plenty of men who'd give him pause due to size, experience, and other factors such as nobility. Byden knows when to toe the line, and when to give it a wide berth. Beyond that lesser part of his nature comes a fun loving, roguish side. He laughs loud and often, and he loves to sing. Sea shanties, ballads, ditties and rhymes and all with exemplary talent. He can play the pipe, and dance, and keeping true to his desire to be the center of attention often does, prattling about like a bard, talking up his own bravery and accomplishments. Yet, for all his boasting and confidence Byden knows little about the realities of war, and when it comes to true bloodshed, he is as innocent and unblooded as a suckling babe.
History: The tenth son, and twelfth child to the Dornish ship's captain Yardyn, Byden was brought into a struggling household that know no end to their scandals and troubles. Most of Byden's elder half brothers were dead, the sons of previous wives that Yardyn bedded lost to a stormy sea, pirates blade, or foul disease. His own mother, Yardyn's third wife was a Pentos women, so frail and sickly it was a wonder she managed to give Yardyn another two sons and daughter at all before she died. At the point of Byden's birth, his father was an old man, ill tempered and prone to beating his young children with rod and whip. He had many mouths to feed, and plenty of debts to pay and not enough coin to go around. His rough treatment was not without its teaching moments, and the whip made Byden tough, and strong willed, the prince of his father's vessel while it was at sea. He tempered much the same as his father as he grew older, a cocky and bold fighter, but he lacked the subtlety and wiles of the crotchety old merchant. Yardyn despaired ever turning Byden into a skilled seller and buyer, not that it truly mattered, the boy had seven other brothers and sisters who were in line to take their inheritance. At most Byden would serve as a bosun or helmsman for them, and Yardyn's vast debts would fall upon the older children to stress over.
Byden was not interested at all in continuing to work under his half siblings. Upon his father's death he received a few pieces of gold as inheritance, and he, and his full blood brother set ashore in Myr, purchasing for themselves equipment with their inheritance and attempting to sign on with a company of sellswords whose deeds and actions seemed to compliment the boys desire for action and glory and gold. However eager they were they met only with disappointment time and time again. Mercenary companies, or at least those of propriety credited themselves for having skilled battlers, and for two green behind the ears boys of fifteen who had never fought a battle before in their life the prospect of joining a company was low indeed. They managed to sign on with a troop of guards, who protected wagons on the paths between villages, but beyond the occasional drunk lowborn in taverns there was no glory to be found, and the pay was pitiful. Byden despaired ever garnering the experience required to pad out their verbal accomplishments, he had never been very patient person and the endless days of following a cart full of stinking fish dragged on his nerves.
For two years the brothers lived day to day, taking the odd job on the wharf and ships of the free cities, sometimes crewing a vessel here, or loading lumber there, never with true direction in mind. Until that fateful day when Tebyn returned one night to the tent they shared from a evening at a brothel. Excitedly he informed Byden of a new mercenary company that had arrived in Myr and was looking for fresh swords who could speak the common tongue. The very next morning the brothers gathered up what little they called their own and recruited with the Meereenese Knot, eager for the battles to come.
Skills: When it comes to Byden's skills he is seriously lacking in the warfare department. All around he is more suited to crewing a merchant ship then swinging a sword, but when it comes to thrusting with a spear or bashing someone's head in with a mace anyone with half a wit can learn it to a measure of competence, and Byden has always been quick and smart. He is a rather good brawler, knowledgeable of where to hit a man to knock him down, or knock him out. He can read and write, though poorly, and count, and sing and dance and play the whistle pipe.
Equipment: Byden carries with him the articles of war of a poor mercenary, which includes a fine flanged mace, a short spear, a padded gambeson, and a steel halfhelm bought and paid for with his inheritance coin. The items are well cared for even though they have known previous owners and show signs of wear, they are oiled and polished with dedicated attention. Byden also keeps a two man tent which he splits with his brother, a small red-wood whistle he carved himself, and a mess kit along with all the other odds and ends folk carry with them.
Miscellaneous: I think not.
Alias: None as of yet.
Age: Ten and Seven years, and without even a proper beard.
Gender: Male
House: As the offspring of a impoverished merchant, he is a freeman but not quite befitting of a proper surname. Instead labeling himself merely as Yardyn's son.
Appearance: Young Byden is a homely boy of middling stature. He is black of hair, and brown of eye with the look of Pentos and Dorne about him. He is not hideous by any means, but his teeth are a bit too crooked, and his nose hooked, and his eyes are sunk far too much into his head. His skin is crisped near red from exposure, and has a splotched, unhealthy look common to the sun-burnt merchant sailors. Under his lip, and in patches on his cheeks grows a scraggly beard, new grown and perhaps detrimental to the desired effect to make himself appear older and wiser. Yet despite his homely appearance Byden seems strong and capable enough, with calloused hands and broad shoulders and sturdy legs, well tuned to the pitch and roll of a ship in motion. The lad carries himself like a seaman even, with short stride, lots of arm swaying, and with his head cocked sideways and a snarky grin of perpetual challenge on his lips. The last part has more to do with his temperament, and is in fact the reason he has a crooked nose, and a few missing teeth... He garbs himself accordingly to the profession of his father, in loose sleeveless tunics and baggy pants that look as if many years ago they might have been fine clothing, but have long since been stained and tattered. Of course beneath all these outward aspects lies the voice of an angel, or at least that's what his mother claimed. The sharp tenor bark for his spoken word well conceals his capacity to sing, with admirable talent. On his hip swings a sturdy looking flanged mace, looped through his belt by a thin bit of twine, and on his head a steel halfhelm, dented but well cared for by the look of it.
Personality: Bold as he is young and inexperience, lacking entirely the talents necessary to be a merchant man. Rash, headstrong, proud and easily made the fool Byden wears his heart on his sleeve and speaks his mind with self-absorbed surety. He is a fighter at heart, and a troublemaker to boot often tickling at the nerves of his companions with pricks and prods and insinuated insults or even direct ones. His brother Tebyn often said Byden should have been born a lord to account for his nature, as only the highborn can get away with acting better then thou all the time. He is not without backing to his personality however. Alongside the many bruises, broken noses, and mud eating that came of being an irritating bastard comes a level of experience which gives him the capacity to back up his audaciousness, with a quick jab and a quicker dodge. He is only seventeen of course, and there are plenty of men who'd give him pause due to size, experience, and other factors such as nobility. Byden knows when to toe the line, and when to give it a wide berth. Beyond that lesser part of his nature comes a fun loving, roguish side. He laughs loud and often, and he loves to sing. Sea shanties, ballads, ditties and rhymes and all with exemplary talent. He can play the pipe, and dance, and keeping true to his desire to be the center of attention often does, prattling about like a bard, talking up his own bravery and accomplishments. Yet, for all his boasting and confidence Byden knows little about the realities of war, and when it comes to true bloodshed, he is as innocent and unblooded as a suckling babe.
History: The tenth son, and twelfth child to the Dornish ship's captain Yardyn, Byden was brought into a struggling household that know no end to their scandals and troubles. Most of Byden's elder half brothers were dead, the sons of previous wives that Yardyn bedded lost to a stormy sea, pirates blade, or foul disease. His own mother, Yardyn's third wife was a Pentos women, so frail and sickly it was a wonder she managed to give Yardyn another two sons and daughter at all before she died. At the point of Byden's birth, his father was an old man, ill tempered and prone to beating his young children with rod and whip. He had many mouths to feed, and plenty of debts to pay and not enough coin to go around. His rough treatment was not without its teaching moments, and the whip made Byden tough, and strong willed, the prince of his father's vessel while it was at sea. He tempered much the same as his father as he grew older, a cocky and bold fighter, but he lacked the subtlety and wiles of the crotchety old merchant. Yardyn despaired ever turning Byden into a skilled seller and buyer, not that it truly mattered, the boy had seven other brothers and sisters who were in line to take their inheritance. At most Byden would serve as a bosun or helmsman for them, and Yardyn's vast debts would fall upon the older children to stress over.
Byden was not interested at all in continuing to work under his half siblings. Upon his father's death he received a few pieces of gold as inheritance, and he, and his full blood brother set ashore in Myr, purchasing for themselves equipment with their inheritance and attempting to sign on with a company of sellswords whose deeds and actions seemed to compliment the boys desire for action and glory and gold. However eager they were they met only with disappointment time and time again. Mercenary companies, or at least those of propriety credited themselves for having skilled battlers, and for two green behind the ears boys of fifteen who had never fought a battle before in their life the prospect of joining a company was low indeed. They managed to sign on with a troop of guards, who protected wagons on the paths between villages, but beyond the occasional drunk lowborn in taverns there was no glory to be found, and the pay was pitiful. Byden despaired ever garnering the experience required to pad out their verbal accomplishments, he had never been very patient person and the endless days of following a cart full of stinking fish dragged on his nerves.
For two years the brothers lived day to day, taking the odd job on the wharf and ships of the free cities, sometimes crewing a vessel here, or loading lumber there, never with true direction in mind. Until that fateful day when Tebyn returned one night to the tent they shared from a evening at a brothel. Excitedly he informed Byden of a new mercenary company that had arrived in Myr and was looking for fresh swords who could speak the common tongue. The very next morning the brothers gathered up what little they called their own and recruited with the Meereenese Knot, eager for the battles to come.
Skills: When it comes to Byden's skills he is seriously lacking in the warfare department. All around he is more suited to crewing a merchant ship then swinging a sword, but when it comes to thrusting with a spear or bashing someone's head in with a mace anyone with half a wit can learn it to a measure of competence, and Byden has always been quick and smart. He is a rather good brawler, knowledgeable of where to hit a man to knock him down, or knock him out. He can read and write, though poorly, and count, and sing and dance and play the whistle pipe.
Equipment: Byden carries with him the articles of war of a poor mercenary, which includes a fine flanged mace, a short spear, a padded gambeson, and a steel halfhelm bought and paid for with his inheritance coin. The items are well cared for even though they have known previous owners and show signs of wear, they are oiled and polished with dedicated attention. Byden also keeps a two man tent which he splits with his brother, a small red-wood whistle he carved himself, and a mess kit along with all the other odds and ends folk carry with them.
Miscellaneous: I think not.
