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Stephen Westwood

"God gave me a brain instead of looks. I guess I win."

0 · 564 views · located in Kraven's Crossing

a character in “Rebellion: Rebirth”, as played by TheFinalOne

Description

Viva La Rebellion!

Name: Stephen Westwood
Age: 30
Race: Elf
Faction: NA
Shapes: NA
Gender: Male
Eye Color: Dark Brown
Location: He is a bard, a nomad. At the moment he is in Netherfield, Everingham.
Appearance:
Image

Short for his race, Stephen is light brown skin colored Elf. He rarely cuts his hair and brushes them regularly.
He is not as beautiful as the rest of his race and as such is considered an oddity, a human with deformed ears or a retarded elf if you will.
But what he lacks in his looks he makes up for with his songs. Always carrying a string instrument- he sometimes his instrument for some other bard's- he roams the land informing people of the news from other places.
He has black hair and so wears a red shirt and black pants. "Maketh me sexy," his reasoning.

Strengths/Abilities: "I'm smart. Ladies love smart."
Weaknesses: He is not very strong. He has a superiority complex.

Personality: After many years of getting his ass beat he has managed to stop blurting out comments announcing himself as the ruler of the world. He, like most elves, has a superiority complex problem but remains friendly to everyone. Good natured and mostly well meaning, Stephen is liked by most. Some elves do think him as inferior so he does not think highly of his own kind.
Because he roams the plains of the land he is quite knowledgeable. He has learned a lot about herbs and other natural things and considers himself a doctor but you're better off consulting a real doctor.

Hobbies: Anything and everything that is fun for him. He gets bored quickly so tends to do a lot of things like singing and dancing and reading etc.

Orientation: Straight

Occupation: Withing society he does not have an occupation. He is considered an outcast, because of looks, by most elves. He is bard and a beggar.

General Equipment: His string instrument. At this moment it is a guitar of sorts.

History/Bio: Born in the forest, Stephen was shunned by his peers from the start. His parents took good care of him but he was bullied outside. At the age of thirteen he suffered from a disease that made him physically weak and so he is incapable of running even as fast as most humans or climbing trees.

Feeling bad for him, one of the elders taught him the way of the bard and turned him into messenger for his people. He would travel the world, meet new people, see new cultures and do so much more, his master had said. And so on his twentieth birthday he set out.

Two years later he came back with lots of news and knowledge. Most elves sat near him and listened to fantastical tales about the lands most of the elves had never seen. The more arrogant of his kind decided that an ugly elf should not get such attention and so the next day they told him to leave. He hasn't gone back since that day.

The last few years he has spend mostly in Netherfield and the surrounding areas telling tales of the world of a great world beyond; mostly lies.

So begins...

Stephen Westwood's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Stephen Westwood Character Portrait: Calahad Rojo
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Kraven's Crossing

Stephen Westwood


"The day young, the birds sing. Where mighty heroes go, swords swing," murmured Stephen as he looked around. The humans who had agreed to give him a ride in their cart, at Netherfield, at had left him the gate. It had been a long, long ride and Stephen was not amused. The cart's squeaky wheels and the super hyperactive children in the cart had destroyed his patience, his eardrums and quite possibly, his sanity. Screw those kid. I won't travel with those pesky buggers again. He spat on the ground.

People milled about, doing what Stephen hated most, actual work. Children increased Stephen's blood pressure by running rings around him. He looked at them evilly but they just laughed and insulting him, ran away. Oh, how he hated kids. But the artist in him stirred. He remember a jingle his Ogre friend had made: Work, work, all days. At night, I plays. The grammar was off but an Ogre made it. How could he hate it?

Stephen walked into the trade district. Kraven's Crossing was just another place. It had stayed free enough from the rule of the werewolves ancients. Stephen disliked the ancients very much. Not that he would publicly announce this hatred, he was only partially insane, but one day he hoped the masses would rise against them. Then he could sing all the song he kept in a cage inside him.

"Kid, are you just going to stare at people or buy something?" asked the shop owner in front of whose shop Stephen was procrastinating. Stephen apologized and bought, well, nothing. He had no money. His stomach grumbled. Sheesh.[/]

A faerie walked past him, or glided beautifully. She had one look at Stephen and decided he was but a lonely man, a lonely starving man. "I have some food if you want," she said as she walked ahead. Of course faeries communicated in a different way. They projected their messages into the brains of people. Stephen did find that a little creepy, but hey! Food.

As they walked out of the market area Stephen looked back at the kid who had bumped into him. [i]Nice try, pickpocket.
He smiled. Being broke had its perks. He looked at his host. She looked stunningly beautiful in her silken clothes. And of course Stephen wanted to be with her always.

The house was a small brick structure near an old tree some distance away from all the commotion. Stephen ate quietly, or slowly, enjoying the food and the awkward look on his feeder's face. "Thank you," he said quietly. She seemed happier and more relaxed now, though her posture was still defensive. Yes, I'm totally a serial killer.

"Did I look that famished?" Stephen asked and the faerie nodded. He laughed, and looked at her; she was smiling too. Her name was Angelica, which told him nothing about her. How many faeries had been given the Angelica? Almost every single, if Stephen remembered correctly. If that was the only name people could think of when describing a faerie, then they were a bunch of racists. But then again, he too would have named her Angelica. But he was different.

Stephen thanked the faerie before he left. He also gave her a slip of paper with a small poem written on it. She read it and had smiled. Oh man, why am I leaving? Having traveled the world, he had wooed many ladies and unknowingly some men. But he had a job, a quest. A quest whose quest giver was dead and whose value was null. But that didn't mean he would stop traveling the world. The quest gave him a purpose.

Stephen reached a gate. He looked back at the town he was leaving. This town had no life. It was just, there. Stephen may very well come back, when he'd be older, and settle down here. But right now he didn't want to stay here a bit. He wondered were his lunacy would take him next. Ahead of him a young maiden stood waiting.

Blonde haired, she wore a blue blouse and white skirt. She was colorful. He liked colorful. Before he could approach her a behemoth walked before her. Now, now Stephen. You shouldn't insult your father-in-law. Your future colorful wife will not be happy, he thought smiling. Well he did look like her father. A massive man, he was heading out of town it seems. Or the girl had come home from a dangerous mission. Nah, unlikely.

The maiden latched on her father. Stephen did not hear what they were saying. It was none of his concern. He just waited to see what happened. For a moment the crowds went numb, though they restarted their commotion soon enough. As the man left his daughter he approached him. "Separation is always painful. It's the fallacy of all beings. May you return to your daughter safely. Where are you going, if I may ask?"

The setting changes from Kraven's Crossing to Forest of Longbourn

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Stephen Westwood Character Portrait: Calahad Rojo
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Kraven's Crossing

Calahad Rojo


Calahad was just about to leave his stand-still, ready to leave his hometown behind. His first step strode forth, taking his breath with him. But just as his second step was to take flight, he heard voice behind him, inquiring him in the airiest of tones.

"Separation is always painful. It's the fallacy of all beings. May you return to your daughter safely. Where are you going, if I may ask?"

The tone of the man was - soft. Almost sultry, like the whispering of a defiant thief, yet soothing, like a consoling parent. Smooth. It wasn't had to place the voice in the throat of an elf. The lumbering man would turn around, raising an eyebrow at his inquisition-er. "Aye - parting to which I shant forget soon. My mind shall linger on this place for many nights." He admitted, looking down upon his elven guest. "And nay - though Keile is not my daughter, she is but the size, hm?" He said with a chortle. Calahad had to acknowledge that he towered over his wife - making her look like a child.

He let out a bright chuckle yet again.

The broad human smiled lightly down on the elf, propping a hand upon his own hip. "Greetings, my friend. I'm Calahad Rojo, Champion of Vediore. And I stride North - I seek out the kingdom of Netherfield, and I seek council with their king." He said, adding spite to the voice of the last words. He hated to think of these creatures as civil, but at the same time, he could not pass judgement. For all he knew, they could have been! "I am going to travel to the North, until I hit the trade road connecting Longbourne and Thorton Lacey. From there, I shall proceed using the trade routes. I expect to be there within a few weeks time, perhaps sooner, if I can find someone with a steed for sale along the way." He confessed to the elf. He hardly knew the elf - yet he had just given him his entire plan. He must've been quite confident in his lack of secrecy.

"And who might you be, friend?" He said looking over the elf again.

The setting changes from Forest of Longbourn to Kraven's Crossing

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Stephen Westwood Character Portrait: Calahad Rojo
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Kraven's Crossing

Stephen Westwood


The giant man turned around and looked down at Stephen. Though Stephen hated people looking down at him, he could excuse this man. After all, Stephen had no interest in getting beaten to a pulp. He studied the man. He had long saffron hair without a trace of grey, amazing considering how old the man. Stephen was in his twenties, eight in human years, and already he had seen at least one rascal grey hair.

The man's face showed signs of a troubled life; a life spent fighting in battles. Either that or the local bar have more muscular men like him. Not a great thought for Stephen. He still had some Elf pride left in him, unfortunately. He liked the fact that he was taller than most human. But if this town had many hulking men, fighting in bars, Stephen'd never get a woman here. Dammit!

"Aye - parting to which I shant forget soon. My mind shall linger on this place for many nights. And nay - though Keile is not my daughter, she is but the size, hm?" Of course Keile wasn't his daughter. Stephen looked at the sky; at the gods who always screwed him over. If Stephen ever wrote a letter to god it would have only four words: Dear God, screw you.

Stephen looked at Keile again who was still there. No Keile, I'm not stopping him. In fact, it's just the opposite. The big man chuckled and spoke again, "Greetings, my friend. I'm Calahad Rojo, Champion of Vediore. And I stride North - I seek out the kingdom of Netherfield, and I seek council with their king."

Stephen was surprised. And intrigued. He had heard much about the human empire, Vediore. He also had heard about the Champion of Vediore and what human bards sang of him. A monster on the prowl, he will destroy you. Every enemy he meets, he rips them in two. Stephen smiled slightly. Whenever he told this story, all patrons agreed on one thing; humans should stay off poetry.

Calahad then proceeded to tell Stephen how he planning to get to Netherfield. A steed for sale? I don't think any steed would want to be sold off to you. Except probably those big ones that carry Ogres. Stephen remembered the last time he'd seen one of those monster horses, outside of his night-mares. 'Stallion' that horse's name was. I'm gonna anywhere near those buggers again, he thought as remembered the kick in face he had nearly received from Stallion.

"And who might you be, friend?" Calahad said looking over the elf again.

"I'm Stephen Westwood, Champion of nothing. I too am going North," said Stephen. Truth be told, he was planning to go the other way with the family he had come here. But what better story to tell than of a man who wishes to meet the devil on his own volition? Also, screw those pesky kids. "If you are interested, we could travel together," Stephen offered.

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Character Portrait: Stephen Westwood Character Portrait: Calahad Rojo
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The elf spoke, his words soft and pronounced. He seemed like he was lingering; perhaps hesitant to go into the town. Yet, Calahad said nothing as he smiled down on the elf. It almost took him by surprise as the elven man suggested that they travel together. He didn't hesitate for a second.

"I'd gladly have you travel alongside me, Stephen Westwood!" He prosed with a broad nod. "I may not be clueless, but I know not what perils lie ahead of me. Nor do I know the terrain that I will traverse. It will benefit me to have someone whom knows more about the land and it's people than I!" He said, with another affirming nod. The champion had not yet had much time to learn much about the geography of the land he almost blindly marched towards.... So the words he spoke were indeed true.

But as the Human stepped forward, out into the world, he began to take in the elf's appearance. "You not look an archer, like many of your kin.... You lack arrows, or bolts. Yet you do have an instrument - and if I were a smart man, I would place my gold on a minstrel. Art thou a travelling storyteller? A music player of sorts?" He asked out of curiosity, his brows raising as he walked, his armor clattering softly with each step, his blade strapped tightly to his back. He tried to keep his mind off of the travel.... for with the parting of his beloved... this trip would drag on... and on...

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Character Portrait: Stephen Westwood Character Portrait: Calahad Rojo
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Stephen looked at the man who was delighted to travel with him. He was totally unprepared for this ride, much like Stephen. How were they going to even get to the kingdom to the wolves? And worse yet, what were going to do there? Surely not meet the king? That would like asking to meet god. And we all know how often god responded.

And why did he even want meet the king. Maybe in all that fighting, he was injured. He tried to look up at his head, but the man was much taller. Hmph. Giants... A gentle breeze was blowing. Even though the heat was uncomfortable for the bard, he liked how the wind combined with the sweat to cool him down. If Calahad wasn't bonkers, then what? Stephen remembered the last time he was in that place. It looked nice on the inside, but looking at the people revealed that was rotting from inside. Such cruel fates. Whatever happened the gentle king that ruled a thousand years ago?

"Nor do I know the terrain that I will traverse. It will benefit me to have someone whom knows more about the land and it's people than I!" the giant said. Yes, Stephen knew much about these lands. They would have to steer clear of the Askai clan. Those buggers loved human meat. Even though he looked more like a human, "You are an elf. You don't smell like a human. So we will not eat you," the old man had said. Stephen wondered what human meat would taste like. Chicken meat tasted nice and humans did look like deformed chicken. The resemblance was especially noticeable when humans did the chicken dance.

"What do you tast- I mean what do you want to go there for? They are treacherous people. If they feel you are an enemy, they will destroy everyone who knew you," he said and looked behind the large man. The woman, or kid, had gone; mingled into the crowd. "I don't think your partner is safe here. But then again, you are a champion. I'm sure you have thought of that," he said and smiled.

They began walking. Because the man's feet were much longer than his, Stephen had to half-jog. At this rate, he would tire soon. "You not look an archer, like many of your kin.... You lack arrows, or bolts. Yet you do have an instrument - and if I were a smart man, I would place my gold on a minstrel. Art thou a travelling storyteller? A music player of sorts?," the man, Calahad, spoke abruptly.

Stephen smiled, "My kind. I'm not sure anyone is looks like me. Half-man, half-elf, half-insane. Ah! But yes, most elves do like to use the classic bow and arrows. Which, when one thinks about, is stupid. Elves are so much stealthier than any other creature. Why waste that ability and learn a new one?," he asked Calahad.

Stephen looked at the instrument. "This is not mine. I exchanged it as a part of a bet. So how do you plan to get the horses? I know a horse breeder a day's travel away, though it is a little off track. Also, I'm too poor. Maybe he recognizes you? He is a human too. I guess we will find out soon enough."

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Character Portrait: Stephen Westwood Character Portrait: Calahad Rojo
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Calahad nodded at the half-elf, his eyes closing with a 'Hmm'.

"What do you tast- I mean what do you want to go there for? They are treacherous people. If they feel you are an enemy, they will destroy everyone who knew you. I don't think your partner is safe here. But then again, you are a champion. I'm sure you have thought of that." lurked forward the sweet, charming voice of the elves.

The statement made the lumbering human to stop in his tracks, pressing his gloved hand to his broad chin. "I was fearful of that. Perhaps, I wished to deny it, but in my heart, I knew that was most likely the situation..." He said, with a half-sigh, half-groan. "Nevertheless, t'is my duty to my kingdom - my people. I feel the fire in my chest, needing to fulfill this duty: No matter how dangerous, or how haphazardly I proceed, I must not falter. Truly, I had hoped that this not the case. However, seeing how it is, it is most likely...." He stopped, opening his eyes, looking up into the tree limbs above him, sheltering the pair from direct sunlight. "Most likely that I go to my grave - a tongue-shriller that all the music calls me. But I lived happily. I can die with honor, and pass flawlessly into the afterlife." He stated with a nod, before looking down onto the elf. He'd not mention his one regret- leaving Keile.

"And as for Keile... I am solemnly aware of that. Yet, which shall I do? Take her with me into the blaze, or let it creep towards her?" he said, his gaze gloaming to the ground. "What say you, Stephen? What is your oppinion upon that matter? Shall we go back, and let her join us? Would she be safer where I myself could protect her?" He asked, looking questioningly at the half-elf. He was really waiting to speak about this topic, before saying anything more...