Name Rhotdornn Haerkoen-Hyrtfyrsyn (HHHI) / Rossechon Iavaslachion (Western HH) / Etarellion Hyrtfyrsyn (Eorzea)
Nicknames Princeling (HHHI) / Hendunar (Western HH) / Lion/Boss (Eorzea)
Age Late twenties/early thirties
Nameday 14th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon
Profession Fleet Captain, tavern proprietor, holding Director, embassy ambassador (this one he is trying to shed)
P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S
Hair A deep, pronounced crimson with brighter highlights of tangerine emmeshed within; lavish, luxurious texture, incredibly thick of mane and attentive of personal grooming, equally so for his beard.
Eyes True crimson; both the hair and the eye colours are a dominant Hyrtfyrsyn trait, carried over from the males thus predominantly.
Skin Seafoam-white, pale as marble, unblemished by other hues, a trait passed onto him by his mother.
Tattoos/scars Plenty across his body–most notably the scars lining his wrists, a deep slash across his chest (though the chesthair makes it difficult to notice) and a runic tattoo as of recent curling around his right arm.
Ma – An enigmatic entity even to his peoples; the Haerkoena of Hyrthyml Haer-Isil, ever shrouded in mystery. Many perceive her as a sickly woman, while others question her motives–yet all in common fail to understand why she has no will to appear publicly, in court or elsewise, without the attendance of her chosen husband-companion. Her hair is said to be of unmatched ink-black; and her skin glistens in the bare moonlight. Next-to-naught is known of her, save that she never speaks, even when in reliable company.
Hyrtfyr II Syhrachtynsyn – Rhotdornn's giant father of a man. The Haerkoen of Hyrthyml Haer-Isil, his power is absolute–and his temper, perilous. Stern, proud, yet fair–previously the ruler of the Autumn Court, his ascent to the throne has sliced a rift between his sons and he, Dornn more than all–whose childhood was oft weighed down by the near-impossible demands of his father.
Rhotdhem Hyrtfyrsyn – Dornn's twin, Dhem–and his sheer opposite. Born of cheer, uncaring for trouble and ever courting mischief, he has ever been a pain in his brother's side; a pain borne all too gladly, despite their soured relationship. Dhem may suffer to be in Dornn's shadow, but he has proven time and time again the kinder and emotionally smarter of the twins. His chosen craft is that of carpentry, as an incredibly skilled shipwright and engineer.
Rhotorn Hyrtfyrsyn – Where Dhem hides his kindness well, Orn cares less so. Though he respects Dornn more, Orn wears his mastery over arcane on his sleeve–and loudly, at that. A Lore-Master unprecedently gifted in the art of Storm-lore, he is quite dismissive of Dhem and his empathy; much to the worry of Dornn, at times. His chosen craft is of a scholarly sort–revitalizing lost scripts and texts from bygone ages, and deciphering their meanings.
Rallyrwyda Hyrtfyrwyn – Though not her given name, she is the eldest of the first three sisters. Pragmatic, polite, and savvy in all things diplomatic and navigation, she mirrors Dornn in many ways–doubly so in the way of saying very little with many words. An enjoyer of fine, deep wine, dresses and music, one would be hard-pressed to find a more sophisticated member of the family. Her chosen craft is that of cloth–a seamstress of envious hands, her fabrics often decorate only her closest of friends back Home.
Eyriloef Hyrtfyrwyn – If Rally is Dornn's mirror, then so is Eyri Dhem's–the propensity for mischief runs deep within her, and though she may not be as lazy as he, her tongue cuts far deeper. A Lore-Master prodigy, often shunned by Orn for her whimsical approach to their profession, she is a friend to all animals–all, with an incredible wariness of bears for unknown reasons. Her chosen craft is goldsmithing–specifically so of glass, and enchanted glass besides. What it may produce varies from patron to patron.
Tyloef Hyrtfyrwyn – The youngest of the three, though in no manner a mirror to Orn–Tyl holds the most potent of mastery regarding Soul-Song; a rival to Dhem indeed, despite her younger age. A sweet, gentle and innocent soul, she beholds the world in all of its awe and wonder, giving no quarter to the darkness that it holds. Her chosen craft is that of weaving tapestries that tell the history of their nation, and that often hang in the main courtroom of their home-keep.
Generation II of the siblings involves a different get, though are best reserved for their own tales, as there are 17 children in total.
None that they know to be alive.
None. Dornn is very strict and critical over forging non-family bonds in Eorzea. Back Home, he has a small brotherhood of Rangers under his call, as well as a former in-law which he killed.
A veritable zoo. Beloved by all things born in nature, he reciprocates in kind–as such, his large house has a dedicated space for all the beloved companions he has accumulated over the many years of his adventuring. His most notable are his chocobo Sternoss/Bannadir(Eorzean), gryphon hatchling Rannaskar, and gryphon mount, Galladross as well as Ferryar, his loyal red-panda.
Blade-mastery - following in the footsteps of his many-scores legendary grandfather, he aspires to be a Weaponmaster, specializing in swords of all sorts currently. His greatest strength lies in sizable zweihanders and dual-wielding of one-handed blades.
Second Sight - Eye of the Hyrtfyrdyn - One of his bloodline abilities; allowing him to sense the pulsation of aether as it is converted into neurological commands from his opponent's brain, his mind is able to temporarily gain insight into their next strike's direction.
Soul-song - his Homeland's northern boon; Rhotdornn's specialty lies in Words of Command and Words of Power, and the signature of his Rhythm is a clear crimson hue, his voice-power sits between a baritone and bass, the dynamic of his Rhythm is crescendo, the tempo of his Rhythm flows from Andante to Marcia moderato and the theme of his Rhythm involve folk-tales and epics brought to life.
Kingsvoice - the final stage of his Rhythmic abilities, inherited from his father. A combination of Words of Power and Command, it unshackles his prowess within Rhytmic battles.
Naval warfare - tutored in the art of naval sparring and skirmishes by the brightest minds of his Homeland from all walks of life, he possesses an uncanny instinct beside for enforcing highly dangerous, yet highly effective battle strategies and sudden maneuvers on open and enclosed waters.
Animal husbandry - as an avid collector of companions far and wide, his enormous house has a whole wing dedicated to his beloved friends of nature; and his 'collection' is oft ascribed to a rumour of speaking their tongue.
Culinary expertise - or cooking, in short. An avid critic of all-things-edible, he pridefully guards the Sea Wolf tradition of culinary, wine and mead-making excellence. He knows good food, and most oft it is his–a testament to this being BARR!'s menu, designed by him.
Diplomacy - once thriving as an uncompromising, cunning Aerslaentean envoy and chief of their embassy in Eorzea, now he seeks to rid himself of that mantle and eschew higher society anew.
Music - the least surprising of all given his Homeland, he is an avid player of the piano and skilled enough with a flute and harp; countless days in the castle were lost to the practice of two of these, no matter how many obligations he was beset with back then.
Most Positive Trait: Reliability. He may be direct, brutally so, candid and at times abrasive; otherwise vague, discreet and rarely speaking his mind openly in higher company; but one thing is certain–if he values you, you will find value in his companionship. A problem-solver through and through, he will give you no choice but to see his value through deed, not word.
Most Negative Trait: A whole sleuth of them, but his stubbornness brooks no contest. You will be ill-pressed to find a harder-headed redhead than that of Hyrtfyrdyn's get... Especially the men. Paired with his bottomless sense of pride in his peoples and race, it can, and has, made for a lethal combo.
Colors: Deep, rich crimsons, oranges and noble whites.
Smells: Fragrant maple, fresh saw-wood, crashing, fresh sea-spray.
Textures: Sturdy metals, flexible leathers and straps, cozy, warming furs with great fluff.
Drinks: Sweet, rich, autumnal mead. Deep, textured red wine–swinging from dry, to at times, a delicious port wine, depending on his predicament. Otherwise, a milky, creamy vodka and a smokey whiskey-rum will settle him into a cozy, fireplace-lit night by the hearth.
Smokes: No, and avoids it diligently; however engages, at times, in a crushed, secret blend that he pours into his pipe, allegedly helping his lungs recover from previous ailments.
Drinks: Like a shark drinks water. Though he sees no deliberate goal behind it like maintaining the storied Hyrtfyrdyn tolerance to inebriation, he knows to instead simply enjoy the drink for what it is - a spoil of the earth and a blessing for the weary traveler. It is a deeply-interwoven cultural habit, at that; wines, meads and ales are strictly tied to many facets of Hyrthymlian lives.
Drugs: Nothing, save for the aforementioned herb he crushes into his pipe on occasion.
Mount Issuance: Revoked after his status as a wanted man by the Maelstrom and Ishgard was reinstated; not that a sailor has much need for land-legs, if he knows his craft.
Been Arrested: Once almost in Ishgard during a ball infiltration, and once successfully right after the Calamity, as he washed up unconscious at Moraby, by the Maelstrom. There, he was faced with his final penalty for his harrowing harrying in prior days of their fleets and Ishgard's nobles–join the ranks of the Barracudas as their Navigator, or face the noose. His head on his shoulders to this day stands as a testament to his choice.
Thank you for the wonderful tag @viiioca! This was mighty fun, so I pass the torch to @bad-moen-rising, @nalukaixiv, @travelchronicler and whoever sees this, consider it an open tag – make sure to tag me back so I can read it properly!
ellievsbear
baratheonpilled
romaincrisis
annaxmalina
origamiaround
kaledo-art
prguitarman
dededos
