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Gallyn Weatherbee

"She's the absinthe on my lips, the splinter in my fingertips; who could do without you?"

0 · 577 views · located in Baekoth

a character in “Revolution of the Heretical”, originally authored by Yonbibuns, as played by Northgaze


"I believe in possibilities. Perhaps, you should widen your horizons."

"I want to live!"

Short people maintain great perspectives on life, because they're always gazing at the heavens. Small package, large personality. Gallyn has heard all of the snide remarks before, and the jokes, and the scoffing comments about not being able to reach things because he lives in a world made for bigger folk. Halflings are born with tougher skins to weather all of the vertically-challenged jokes hailing down on them through their lives, and Gallyn is no exception. Thankfully, he was born proportionate. No awkwardly-shaped limbs or apishly large forehead here. And he certainly doesn't act like he's shorter than anyone else; striding through life like he is owns the place, hundreds of feet taller than everyone else. In his eyes, and in his heart of hearts, he's a giant. A ruggedly handsome giant. He's a slippery sort; capable of much greater things than even he can imagine. This isn't to say that his foundations are unshakable; quite the opposite, actually. Sometimes, Gallyn crumbles under the weight of not really fitting in—it's a dangerous world that has never truly accommodated anyone who is weak. It gobbles you up, spits you out and moves on. His proportions play a grand role in how he perceives others, clearly reflected in the manner he moves, in the way he speaks, in the way he shifts and molds his behaviour. Bright-blue eyes seem to belong to someone much larger, much more intimidating than Gallyn; always picking things apart. You can nearly hear the gears whirring. Heavy browed, with deep-set eyes, meticulously maintained hair and strong nose, the little man gets by with a silver-tongued charm he's cultivated over the years. Besides, Gallyn's dimpled grin is contagious.

Hair: All halflings have a head of healthy, thick hair, and are very beardless. He likes to keep his hair trimmed short and slicked backwards, though it tends to do this naturally. Dark brown with lighter streaks bundled in; his mop is naturally wavy, affixed in loose curls that makes his hair look all the more thicker.
Eyes: Of the brightest blues; bluer than the wings of a bluejay, bluer than the skies on a clear summer day. Truly his greatest asset. Sometimes, they shift in shades—becoming darker depending on the clothes he wears or impossibly bright; always inquisitive, always asking unspoken questions.
Build: Proportionate is the proper word to describe the little man. Gallyn is not the ideal image of a warrior. However, he does have broader shoulders and a stockier build than most other halflings. Probably from all of that running away. Lithe, slippery, and capable of quickly slipping through tight spaces.
Skin Tone: Ruddy-skinned sonnuvagun.
Height: 4'1”
Weight: 94lbs
Voice: He has a musical, slightly sonorous tone. Gifted with a storytellers voice, Gallyn is capable of drawing an audience with his tall tales (or wriggle his way out of sticky situations). Should he have been born a taller man in different circumstances, he would have made a great politician. Men who cannot possibly defend themselves, in his opinion, better have a a pleasing voice.
Handed: Left-handed.
Body Markings: Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. He does have moles in peculiar places.
Scar Tissue: Scars? Scars are for people who actually get themselves involved in a losing battle. He's not fool enough to land himself anywhere near sharp objects, so he hasn't accumulated any scars—not even in his youth. No broken bones, no fractures and not a marking on his person.
Unique Body Features: Besides being unusually short, Gallyn is an ordinary halfling. He does have the trademark pointed ears and calloused feet tufted with fine hair. He might not have any scars to show, but he is missing the pinky finger on his left hand; down to the first knuckle.


"I may be weak, but I've made friends. I have something to fight for."

Gallyn Weatherbee

Gall, Lyn, Bee.


Visual Age

Factual Age


Sexual Orientation

Who gives titles to lowly halflings? No one. He'd scoff at the mention—not that he wouldn't mind everything that comes with it. Gaudy rings, dotting women and grapes dipped in honey. It isn't likely that he will ever meet a noble halfling in his lifetime, and he'll live a damn long one, too. Five-hundred years, give or take, and they've been in the same place they've always been; in the glades, hidden from the world. Halflings are only free so long as they do what they will; slapping on a title would only give them unwanted responsibilities.


"You give up a few things when chasing your dreams."


Gallyn yearns for much more than his station has provided him with. A commoner, while free from duties and responsibilities, can only gain so much. Trekking on grandiose adventures, filled with undiscovered treasures ripe for the taking and monsters to be valiantly slayed; that is what he desperately wishes for. Braving the seas as a courageous sailor or graceless pirate sounds absolutely magical in his opinion. So does scrambling through the mouth of a dragon or weathering frightening storms in order to ambush an advancing army. Storming castles and wielding weapons far larger than himself, as well. Fairy tales, folklore and stories have been his bread-and-butter since he was a wee lad; he's always been engrossed in the fantastical. The most striking feature of Gallyn's personality is being full of vim and vigour. Paired with an unquenchable thirst for adventure and knowledge—it's difficult to turn him away.

The halfling is a man of many identities; displaying one out of many identities at a time, and choosing identities which are specific to the object he is responding to. No role is too great or too difficult to chameleon himself into. He is capable of changing his outlooks, his beliefs and his personality to better blend in with the people he’s communicating with—quickly, and with little preparation. He is also somewhat of a self-entitled brat (though he's never truly had anything to make him this way). Certain traits still shine through regardless of the persona he's chosen to don. Breezy and easygoing; Gallyn naturally enjoys life and having fun. He usually comes across, at first, as being very air-headed or naive and he tends to use this to his advantage. Being mistaken for an innocent child allows him to gain the upper hand in certain situations, as well. Sassy and sarcastic, Gallyn prefers light conversation over gloomy awkwardness, though he still manages to steer through those murky waters with impressive gentility. He can be a warm blanket on a chilly day or a refreshing breeze when tempers are running hot.

His independence has always been the breeding ground for his, often unrealistic, dreams. Without his self-reliance, Gallyn would still be in one of the Creid's cozy hollows; bundled up and comfortable, boorish and safe. Had he never wanted for anything other than a comfortable life, he believes he would have been shaming his true self. Striving for the things he desires keeps him from staying in one place for too long. And actively seeking out information allows him to make sound decisions. Everyone is in need of information; whether you're a tall nobleman, dirt-streaked rebel or stick-thin witch. His intuition is hardly ever wrong—his twitchy nose can tell, after all. He's very centred knowing who he is and what he wants in the world, forsaking all the stereotypes in order to achieve what no halfling would rightly want. Gallyn hardly cares what other people think of him and he isn't usually swayed by peer pressure, unless his person is being threatened with bodily harm. Meddling in other people's lives, however, has become a strange hobby of his.

While not the brawniest of the bunch and by no means and excellent warrior, Gallyn suffers from a “Lancelot-complex.” He needs to save women from danger, even if he's putting his own neck on the line. Half the time he's aware that what he's doing is stupid, and the other half, he's not thinking at all. He's a knight in (not-so) shining armour; one who prefers scampering around on his own two feet than galloping towards damsels on a horse. Perhaps most prevalent of all is his ability to bring light to the bleakest situations. Gallyn makes light of the situation. It definitely puts others at ease, and it may be one of his greatest strengths and characteristics: he cares about people, and he empathizes. He tends to make friends easily, regardless if they share any common ground with him and once he truly befriends someone: he's a friend for life. This, in particular, makes him susceptible to betrayal. Unversed in the arts of politics, Gallyn trusts far too easily, even though he's well-versed in social manipulation. Seems as if it goes both ways.

He's constantly on the move; always learning and absorbing his surroundings. His mind works like clockwork; Gallyn doesn't enjoy being still, so if he's stuck in one place, his mind is miles ahead of him. Although he thinks so much and is always so full of energy, he never really seems to get anything done. Too much distracts him. He always just seems to ‘get by,’ as if he lives on a delicate balance between doing too much and doing too little. He leaps from project to project, from place to place; maybe growing bored or maybe just wanting to keep moving. There's a method to his madness, for if he's ever given an important assignment—he generally finishes at the last minute and excels at what he does. Whether it be singing or retrieving information, Gallyn seems to have a couple fingers (except for his pinky) in everyone's pie. People, for whatever reason, like sharing stories with him. He is a very go-with-the-flow type of person; much like his halfling kinsmen, so he can spring back quickly, work out what he needs to do and run the hell away. He's not in any way aggressive, because he has no real reason to be. Quite contrary to his burning desire to be a wily adventurer (he's a dreamer, after all).

Freedom is a lot more important than Gallyn will ever admit—he needs and thrives on it. Clearly, this is a halfling trait that cannot be shaken off. He needs the ability to run, or think, freely. Any sort of boundary makes him irritable, and his initial priority is to break free. He has a special way of viewing the world, which not everyone can understand, and some people might have a hard time “reading” him, but that's alright because he doesn't mind trying to explain himself. The halfling is an open book for all to read; secrets, in his opinion, are little more than flowery words hidden underneath a pillow. How are people supposed to trust each other if they hide their own secrets away? He is always willing to share his own tales, though they may be coloured a few shades brighter than they actually are. No harm done; people usually enjoy his tales more that way. Some might consider him a little too touchy-feely with his affections… he is quite fond of hugs and physical contact in general. In a world where most people are mouth-breathing warriors, or steely-eyed politicians, hugging is not well-received.

As already established, Gallyn is primarily cheerful and optimistic. He is not one for brooding unnecessarily but on the rare occasion his spirits are dampened, you would do best to avoid him. Sullen is not a strong enough word to describe it and he becomes quite unbearable; like a slug trailing slime and tears all over your brand new carpet. He can be quite theatrical, which is why people have a hard time taking his moods seriously. Fortunately the Gallyn you are most likely to encounter is bright, confident and generous. Charming too, in his own measure. Unlike most Halflings who prefer to take things easy and do good work with the least amount of effort possible, Gallyn actually enjoys working hard—a little sweat on his brow never did him any harm, and people generally have a better outlook of him because of his insatiable work ethic.

One of Gallyn's greatest compassion’s are people; meeting them, knowing them, learning about them and forming long-lasting bonds. He absolutely loves people of all shapes and sizes; of all walks-of-life, unless they're needlessly violent and want to cook him over a spit, that is. If you could say anything truthful about this Halfling, it's that he has a kindred’s soul. He treats others with compassion and care, and is always willing to lend an ear or a shoulder to cry on. He so readily loves those he considers his friends, and is fiercely loyal to the point where he would do just about anything for the ones he loves (even if it means facing his many fears). He can be a bit too trusting at times, seeing as he likes to believe the best of people. Whichever way you'd like to say it, Gallyn has been burned a few times by trusting the wrong people and its hardened his resolve; he grows smarter, picks things up quicker, and has learned from his mistakes.

  • As soon as Gallyn introduces himself to someone new, he's already composing a song in their honour—an honest song that may or may not offend or flatter them. He hasn't been known for his tact, and doesn't seem to understand that some people take what he says literally.
  • Feels as if he must shake someones hand or have some sort of physical contact when introduced; or else, he feels like their friendship will be doomed from the start. It almost feels like a pact is being made, even if he never sees them again. Denying his preferred hand is seen as an insult (though he might continue trying to get it before said person leaves).
  • Gallyn is very susceptible to promises of food; or anything when it is requested by a pretty face.
  • He has webbed toes.

Moral Alignment
Neutral Good

“Compassion, kindness and mercy.”

What motivates this little halfling? Certainly, it's partly because he wants to live a grander life. One that halflings seldom experience for fear that they will perish a horrible death—most of them fear what they do not understand, but not Gallyn. There is too much in the world he has not yet seen. Too much food and drink he has not yet tasted. Too many people he has not met and befriended. Too many experiences he has yet to notch into his belt. Too many adventures he has yet to sing about. He is tired of doing what is expected, so life is more motivation than he needs. He wants his name sung as well.

  • The idea of ceasing to exist terrifies Gallyn to no end. Thinking of everything and everyone he has come to love suddenly disappearing or all the things that he has worked so hard to achieve becoming little more than dust and memories; it's more than he can bear. He fears being forgotten in death, as well. He fears dying too soon. It is not something he is keen to dwell on.
  • Rats. Rats are disgusting creatures, scampering around his bare feet and nibbling on his toes when he least suspects it.
  • Gallyn is somewhat afraid of the dark but only when he's inside a building. When he's outside, at least the moon and stars provided light. True darkness—where you can't see your hand in front of your face—bothers him greatly.

Honestly, Gallyn has no true goal. He does not want to rule or lead anyone, nor does he wish to see anyone suffer or have any secret vendettas. All he wants to do is live life to its fullest and rebel against the restrictions dolled down on all halflings, because he believes that anyone is capable of doing anything should they put their mind to it. He is no different. No matter where he came from, or how small he is, Gallyn believes that he can achieve greatness, and weasel his way in with anyone he wishes.

  • Riddles and challenges involving literature (and puns).
  • Conversations; short, lengthy, brief or heartfelt.
  • All sort of foods; cooking as well.
  • Singing and dancing and merry-making.
  • Women of all shapes and sizes; they're all beautiful to him.
  • Small shiny objects.
  • Flattery in all of its forms.

  • Disloyalty; and intentionally cruel people.
  • Being mocked in the presence of his friends.
  • Brutes, bullies and violence.
  • Missing any meals, whatsoever.
  • The very idea of settling down or being coerced to settle.

He is a compassionate soul capable of empathizing with nearly anyone. Forgiveness comes very easily to him, as well as overlooking unscrupulous characteristics. Gallyn is nonjudgmental. He will readily accept pretty much anyone unless he has good reason to avoid them; if they're sadistic or needlessly cruel. Gallyn is a courteous gentleman who's always striving to be polite, even when faced with rudeness (which isn't to say that he won't grumble about it). His insatiable curiosity may be a double-edged sword; on one side, he actively explores and seeks out knowledge, but on the other, he tends to find himself in trouble. In particular, the process of learning, rather than the outcome, excites him.

He's flexible in most areas, it is likely that Gallyn will try something first before disagreeing. He is an incredibly social creature, and as such have a knack for conversation that few can match. Quick of tongue and sharp of ear, its particularly difficult to put one over on him, even with the powers of magic on your side. Being exceptionally small comes with a whole host of disadvantages, either in a fight or with something as simple as reaching for that stubborn mason jar sitting on the second cupboard of a house not built for Halflings.

Also, being tiny does come with many more perks, he has the uncanny ability to elude the notice of others when he chooses; as well as being able to quickly escape without being detected. A shuffling child is often ignored. There is also his inherent optimism and cheerfulness. It might seem such a small thing, and a trait common enough, but it is fortunate that he refuses to allow a turn of bad luck (or a bad harvest) to spoil his mood, and this trait seems to pass on to others, as well.

Gallyn has an innate need to be liked and an even stronger desire to please others. He's also extremely sensitive to rejection. The halfling falls prey to his own fantasies, at times becoming preoccupied to the extent of being unaware of his immediate surroundings. Abstracted, daydreaming, inattentive, oblivious, and forgetful.

He has a softness and tenderness of the heart that often leads him into trouble; very susceptible to pity and other kindly affections. He cannot resist helping someone he sees in trouble, suffering or in need, and hardly thinks of the repercussions until everything has already been said or done. Few comprehend just how difficult it is to stand at no more than three feet; four feet if one is lucky. From mounting your average stool to actually seeing over the bar... from struggling to earn the attention of a busy tender to figuring out what in the hells to do with a tankard of ale twice the size of their head. Forget trying to ride those monstrous horses, he refuses asking for a boost.

He is a complete magpie. Most Halflings have a love of shiny coins or unwanted treasure buried in their yards, but Gallyn's infatuation is not limited to this: anything that shines or sparkles is fair game to him. He's climbed high trees and gone down dangerous paths to discover the source of a glinting in the midday sun. He's also been known to spend hours staring at frost, or dew on a spider's web at dawn. Anything shiny captures his attention - nothing more than the stars in the night's sky, and he is an amateur astronomer. Back home, Gallyn had a room dedicated to this, sometimes unfortunate, hobby (obssession).


"I will ride, I will fly; chase the wind and touch the sky."
Helmet: No helmet as of yet. They're made far too large.

Armour: Well, unfortunately for Gallyn, there hasn't been anyone willing to craft such small armour. It isn't like children are going off to war, leaving behind their own plates of mail or leathers. Honestly, you'd think that someone's son was badgering their fathers, or mothers, for their own sets—because, they wanted to be warriors or soldiers or knights someday. No, no. Gallyn is stuck in a world of giants and donning ill-fitting plates would only shame him. For now, he wears nothing but the clothes on his back; a set of brightly-coloured garbs reserved for only for singers, and casual clothes one would see a normal Halfling wear.

Clothes: Halflings are unusually conservative dressers, choosy in their comforts—that is, unless they're rapscallion entertainers who actively seek out gaudy garments in the hopes of catching your eye. Gallyn lies somewhere in the middle. Old habits are hard to shake off, but he likes appearing different than his kinsmen. Generally, he wears ankle-high leather boots held together by iron buckles. He dresses in dark brown trousers and a green tunic girded with a broad brown belt. He often wears a fitted leather jerkin over top, smartly trimmed with leaf patterns. A warm woollen cloak with a larger-than-usual hood; green and embellished with copper grommets. He also wears an assortment of frock coats, frilled vests, short trousers, waist coats and a plethora of vibrant scarves. Tiny, adorable clothes tailored for a little man.

  • A big leather satchel chock-full of goodies and gadgets he's acquired while travelling the many kingdoms; some things are useless, and others are delicious.
  • And an even larger knapsack filled with camping utilities.
  • He also carries a moleskin notebook, usually tucked tightly into his coat. Accompanying is writing-utility is a worn quill and a fairly new inkwell. They fit snugly in their respective satchel pockets. The quill is made from a hawk feather and the inkwell is always refilled to the brim after each use.
  • He carries two coin purses on him at all times; the most apparent of which is filled with small stones.

"I am a songbird singing out your window, telling stories in the shade, and I can't fly away."

Rating System
[Perfect] - [Excellent] - [Good] - [Above Average] - [Average] - [Below Average] - [Poor] - [Very Poor]


Hand-to-Hand Combat:
[Poor] Uh, have you ever seen a Halfling actually hold his own in a brawl? Or in any fight that wasn't a civil argument charmingly discussed over hot biscuits and tea? No. Well, neither has most of the kingdoms and Gallyn is far from being the shining snowflake-of-a-Halfling he wishes he was. He doesn't lack for trying but mostly his opponents feel bad for him or thinks he's joking. Now, if Gallyn were ever to find himself in an actual bout of fisticuffs, he'd probably end up in a bruised heap of sore limbs. He could very well bolt between their legs if they were especially tall, but that would humiliate him far too much. Instead, he has access to the “important bits” that he's not afraid to accidentally headbutt should the opportunity arise. He doesn't like playing dirty, but he will if his life is at stake.

Melee Combat:
[Below Average] Again, Halflings aren't exactly known for any renown warriors who stubbornly paved the path of discomfort and hardship, in a world that never believed in them. Gallyn was born and raised with his kinsmen, so the only means of practising swordsmanship was to whittle sticks and duel with scarecrows (all in secret). These practices have not made him a master; or anything close, really. Many swords, he's realized over the duration of his travels, simply aren't made for little folk. They're too heavy, too long and awkward for him to wield. However, he's found another way to arm himself: daggers. Daggers of all shapes and sizes. He now carries one with him at all times, but hasn't actually used it on anything besides a wheel of cheese and loaves of bread.

Ranged Combat:
[Average] Surprisingly, Gallyn has used a bow before. A small Halfling-crafted bow, that is. Most of his kinsmen have learned to trap and hunt whatever animals they can find; be they large graceful deer, skittering rabbits or even twitchy squirrels. Nothing is wasted and nearly everything is game. He isn't the greatest marksman in the lands, nor is he the quickest draw—but he can handle one pretty well if its made small enough, and given enough time to aim.

Magic Combat:
[Very Poor] Absolutely no magic whatsoever to speak of.

Mounted Combat:
[Poor] Oh dear, Gallyn struggles with this, as well. All proper adventurers and knights ride valiant steeds. Great snorting beasts capable of tearing through the glades, or even their enemies. Most bigger-folk ride horses, while their children sometimes ride ponies. Horses are impossible to ride. They're impossible to mount, reach, or handle; most horses aren't even aware they're being ridden, and he ends up sliding off. Ponies are fine, but forget about doing anything besides clinging onto the saddle-horn.

Racial Abilities

[Good] Gallyn is also impressively athletic. His agility and hand-eye coordination have been refined and perfected through his constant adventuring. He can sprint through the most tangled woods, weaving between the branches lithely, and reach such speeds with his legs alone that he can race with the eagles; or escape capture by squirting through prickly brambles. Not only is he quick on his feet, but Gallyn's feet are incredibly calloused, allowing him to cross rough terrain without shoes and being entirely comfortable. He's able to react quickly and intelligently to his immediate environment. Over the years, he's learned that the faster you're moving, the faster you must react. With speed comes momentum, and a smart Halfling can use both to his advantage.

Hide and Seek:
[Excellent] While Gallyn would love to stand his ground and never flee for fear of tarnishing his honour, he's also realistic. If he sees, or feels in his toes, that a battle is not going his way, he's well able to find the way out. A fake move, a quick distraction, some sand in the eye, and the quick, nimble opportunist is gone, running away at top speed, faking his demise, hiding somewhere out of sight for the heat to die down. Hiding spots are numerous given the fact that he's so compact. Well, being small has its advantages. Gallyn's capable of slipping through small spaces, nearly like a cat squirming through a sliver of open window. Anywhere a child can go, he can as well.

[Good] His knowledge of nature extends to the fauna of his homeland (and beyond if there is familiar vegetation). He knows which bounties of the earth are nourishing and which are poisonous. He can even fashion natural remedies using certain herbs, roots and other plants that he knows the properties of. The remedies themselves are inconsequential; energy supplements, cure for stomach aches, headaches, wound salves and delicious teas. Keen eyes always spot what is edible and what is not.

Natural Talent(s)

[Above Average] Like most children, Gallyn is naturally flexible. He can touch his toes and bend in half without any difficulty, as well as tumble and vault; which includes forward rolling, backward rolling, and dive rolling. Diving through a foe's legs, softening his landings and diving through windows are all in his repertoire of abilities that have kept him alive when he wasn't able to explain his way out of hairy situations. Climbing—or scrambling rather—over vertical objects, like walls, windowsills, balconies, or any other types of slopes, is a given Halfling trait (they climb trees to reach all of those tasty fruit, after all). His calloused feet make for great traction. He's able to bend and contort his body in awkward angles; this isn't particularly useful unless he's using it as a parlour or trying to fit himself into a small chest.

Smarmy Bastard:
[Excellent] His guile stands alone, and many of his schemes rely on the ability to cunningly nudge pieces of the chess board here and there to suit him. Gallyn is very good at manipulating people, both directly and off stage; though, his intentions are usually good. Building relationships and developing trust comes easily to them. Their ability to charm and influence others makes them natural leaders—if he wasn't such a coward. Leading anyone sounds awful. He couldn't stomach ordering anyone around, let alone leading them to their deaths (or victory, but really, who wants that responsibility?) He understands that he has a tendency to twist things around, muddle the truth, or incidentally using others for his own gains, and he's been struggling to become a better, more decent person. A white knight; unwilling to beguile anyone, because they can do things on their own. It's difficult.

Sing Sing Sing:
[Good] Like birdsong on the breeze, Gallyn was gifted with a wonderful singing voice. What is a bard without his voice? Useless. High notes, low notes; sonorous, soft and simple, resonating with strength and meek as a mouse. He has many ranges to choose from—some suited for quick jigs, some for somber occasions, or others specifically designed to be played in warm taverns. He can also identify and imitate the mannerisms, patterns of speech and even approximate the voices of the people he encounters. Naturally, the more time he spends in someones company the more accurate these imitations become; like an annoying parrot.

Master Chef:
[Above Average] One of Gallyn's specialities is his ability to turn almost anything even vaguely edible into amazing meals and is renowned amongst his peers as a result. He has a keen eye for complimentary spices and dishes; as well as a masterful sense of taste (most Halflings boast of being connoisseurs of food). Watercress sandwiches with raspberry cordial on the side; pumpkin tarts, cherry tarts, elderberry tarts; smoked cheeses; peach and elderberry brandy; candied nuts; strawberry pasties; old-fashioned meat rolls just like his momma used to make; rosehip preserves; flaky mushroom pasties; almond-crusted rolls; bird stew with potatoes and turnips; lemon cakes and assorted cookies. Confections and sugary goodies is, admittedly, his strongest suit.

Class Skills

A Bard's Song:
[Above Average] Troubadour, traveling minstrel, storyteller, poet, and performer. Entertainer and actor; Gallyn has many talents (that may or may not actually by useful in battle). His flowery language, poetic prose, soft melodies, quick jigs and eclectic theatrics have saved him numerous times; whether it is in the manner of finding him a place to rest his feet or earning himself a free meal, or a beer, or an empty space on a ship. His music, especially, can be used to manipulate; by feeling, augmenting and using the emotional needs and desires of those around him for his own purposes. He is well aware of how powerful it can be to show and offer someone the things they dream and fantasize about and his use of this fact can produce profound results. He knows people better than anyone, sometimes knowing a person better even than they know themselves.

Nimble Fingers:
[Average] How else would he strum his favourite instruments: the lute and lyre. It is true that these skills can be transferred towards shadier pastimes, such as liberating coin from an unwitting victim's purse. With small little hands, and an innocent face beaming up at all those tall people, Gallyn has admittedly stolen before. Not very often, mind you, but he is still capable of doing so if he must.

Take Heart, Heroes:
[Good] Through wordsmithing and singing his little lungs out, a good Bard is capable of boosting morale in himself and others. He can inspire others to take up their blades and strike down their foes, heedless of danger. He can remind them of grizzled warriors who fought two—no, five men with a broken arm and won, so they can surely do better. He can set their spirits aflame, cool their rankled nerves, soothe their aching souls or simply encourage them to get up and dance. Inspiring courage, heroics, and motivation is what he does best.

Spider Network:
[Above Average] As travelling gatherers of information, lore, legends, and gossip, Bards are typically “in the know.” They communicate this information amongst themselves by way of a shadowy Bardic Network that is seldom discussed with outsiders. His own means of gathering information is a tight-lipped secret. Halflings live a long time, and are a generally trusting sort; multiple, unskilled contacts within his sphere of interest has been hoarded like a dragon to its treasure. These contacts periodically provide him with bits of information, primarily based on rumour and hearsay.


"Does his love make your head spin?"


  • A weathered flute that has seven holes on top and one on the underside. Perfectly smooth surface was treated with bees wax; pleasant to hold. The sounds it makes are light and airy.
  • A set of panpipes in varying tones; lower, higher, medium-tones. Cut from maple wood, the holes drilled out, edge hardened with a hot iron, then fine tuned with beeswax and finished to a high standard with three coats of natural oils. It's usually found hanging at his hip, attached to his belt with a leather strap.
  • His backpack is actually a mess of instruments and food-goodies; from fresh nut cakes to leaf-rolled crumble breads. A jar of honey is nestled between carefully placed bunches of cloth; as well as a couple apples, a bundled slice of cheese and wrapped clumps of thyme, bay leaves and sage.

Weapon Name: Dancer
Weapon Type: Dagger
Material: Steel
Length: 11 inches
Weight: 3lbs
Weapon Description/Info: This little thing is the first weapon he's ever handled in his life, besides makeshift sticks he used to play with as a boy. It was lovingly crafted by a young man he met upon first entering Dorelith. In return, Gallyn regaled him with tales of the seas, of his homeland, of the people he'd met in his hundred-years of living. The blade itself was unique in its craftsmanship; made by an amateurs hand, but created with determination and pure, unadulterated will. The reindeer bone handle was a real joy to behold and fit in his hand perfectly.

Weapon Name: Fair Maiden
Weapon Type: 8-stringed Lyre
Material: Rosewood
Length: 17 inches
Weight: 5lbs
Weapon Description/Info: The solid rosewood body lends itself to the soft gentle curves of this eight string lyre. A solid beauty crafted in the hills he calls home.

Weapon Name: Siren Singer
Weapon Type: 10-stringed Lute
Material: Walnut
Length: 20inches
Weight: 7lbs
Weapon Description/Info: Features rosewood scalloped staves that have white pinstripes in between the body. The neck, nut, bridge, end peg and tuning pegs are also made out of rosewood, while the soundboard is clearly crafted from aged ebony. It was the first instrument he bought outside of Creid—the beginning of his journey, with a fitting companion strapped to his back.


"So hold my hand, I'll walk with you, my dear."


Group Affiliation
The Queen's Bard

Marital Status
Single and always on the prowl. He flirts with everyone and everything in sight—correction, only women. He does it to disarm them, he does it so they won’t take him seriously, and he does it especially with people he can tell will never, ever actually take him up on any of his flirtations, people that it’s safe to flirt with because there’s no risk of anything more than that. Rejection hurts. And as a Halfling knows, most bigger-folk wouldn't give him as much as a sideways glance; or an upturned brow. Women just don't like smaller men.

Andre Weatherbee – Mother – Alive
Finnan Weatherbee – Father – Alive
Eida Weatherbee – Younger Sister – Alive
Filli Weatherbee – Younger Sister – Alive
Sinnel Weatherbee – Younger Brother – Alive
Lindal Weatherbee – Older Brother – Alive
Burgin Weatherbee – Older Sister – Alive
Alder Weatherbee – Oldest Brother – Alive

The beautiful valleys of Creid; Mayferry Ridge

Social Rank

Er, singing is occupation enough, is it not? Largely a travelling entertainer, gaudy minstrel and swayer of coin by means of wordsmithing. Gallyn does pretty well for himself; free drinks, free shelter, free adventures and plenty of capable swords that can kill far better than he ever could.


Halflings don't fight in wars, Halflings don't build vast cities or monuments to their own greatness. Halflings don't find themselves on any worthwhile adventures, besides venturing to the nearest corn field in hopes of finding sweet corn to tenderly shuck. A warm bed with soft blankets, a full belly, clean clothes without any holes and all for as little hard labour as possible is the absolute ideal for your average Halfling. To anyone yearning for a peaceful life in the wilds, free from the cities bustling influence: Creid is paradise. Untouched, wild. The true epitome of freedom and living off the land. Bountiful fruit hang ripe from their trees, haphazardly clumped in their orchards (as they naturally should), and all lined with wooden ladders and hand-weaved baskets. When it comes to food and spirit, they want for nothing.

Ritual and custom control every aspect of Halfling life; something Gallyn has never enjoyed. Rich in both poetry, whimsy words, dancing and singing—they're unusually gifted when it comes to regaling others with tales of grandeur. They remember their history through oral traditions, as well as those of other races—unfortunately, however, much of it has deteriorated into half-accurate legends and fanciful fables. Still, Halflings remember the deep and abiding respect their forefathers had for the world. And so, when Gallyn was brought into the world as a pink-faced wailing wee babe, it was his mother who cooed soft lullabies and his father who revealed their colourful history, even before he was able to understand the words. Their particular tribe, in Mayferry Ridge, specialized in willy entertainment; story-telling and the kinder types of music, fiddles and flutes exclusively. His first fiddle was handcrafted by his father and lovingly placed in his crib, as he had done with all of his children.

Speaking of children, Gallyn was not alone. Not by a long shot—he had six siblings in total. He was born somewhere in the middle, nestled along with his other siblings; mostly younger, that is. How could so many children fit in such a small earth-hollow, you ask? Well. Their father expanded their meagre abode to compensate for their large family. Dug into a rather large hillside, the house itself has low visual impact and shelter from any harsh weathers. Stone and mud used to toughen up the foundations. Oak thinning used to frame most everything on the interior; neatly decorated with their names, carved exclusively into the large windowsill. Wood floors, straw insulation, a large wood stove, a natural skylight, roof water that leads into their pond, several side tunnels and chambers with stacked beds. It was cozy, busy, and hardly ever quiet. Handmade everything. Quilts, covers, rugs, wood furnishings, cupboards and the like; anything that couldn't be made by hand was acquired by trades (to other tribes, of course).

His mother wore the pants around the house. While her husband gallivanted around the glade, singing and dancing—it was she who tended their gardens, trimmed their shrubs, cooked for the children and picked the apples from the orchard. Hardwork boiled in her blood, and she didn't seem to mind. They balanced each other nicely. He was all play; somewhat lazy, always laughing and always in good cheer, while she was a little more reserved and much preferred getting her dose of adventure in books. In Gallyn's younger days, he'd taken a shining to those books; devouring them like sweet cakes. Anything that had anything to do with dragons and mountains and great warriors scaling castles, he read them like a boy gone mad. And he never stopped talking about it, either. Warrior this, warrior that; I'll be an adventurer someday. Neither of his parents thought much of it. They encouraged his enthusiasm, and his curiosity, but still taught him the basics of being a Halfling. Music, instruments, storytelling and hardwork became his lifeblood, who he was and what he believed in.

His siblings were much simpler to deal with. They, too, feared what was beyond Creid. Anything beyond the Mayferry Ridge was frightening to them. Monsters with gnarled teeth were there, or big stomping humans that cared nought for peaceful discussion. But, that wasn't what Gallyn read about in those books. There were kindred spirits, selfless princesses, gallant knights and men who willingly sacrificed themselves for the greater good. Why would there be written books about these sort of humans, and none of the ones Halflings described? Strange, even if they were just fables and fairy tales. He needed to see more. Adventure, he'd say, called to him in a voice too sweet to ignore. His older siblings laughed, while his younger siblings wondered why he would ever want to leave Creid. Things were perfect the way they were, right?

Not so. As Gallyn grew older, and bolder, his curiosity did, as well. What was beyond the glades? Why did none of the other races visit them here? Why did Halflings only travel so far? What were they really afraid of? Didn't they yearn for the same things that he did? Had no other Halfling chosen that sort of path to walk? Wanderlust clutched his heart like a bramble-bush. He spoke of his dreams, his aspirations once more. As much as he'd like to stand independently, it was not how Halflings did things. They were united and strong as a family unit; bound by bonds that stood the test of time. His father had been against it—how could a Halfling survive out there on his own, he'd be squashed or killed or worse. Most surprising of all, it had been his mother, with that twinkle in her eyes, that relented. She'd given her blessing.

If you want to build a ship, then build a ship. If you want to wield a sword, then pick one up. If you want to travel the world, then go. You are so young, little songbird. Happiness isn't when you whistle along pretending bad things do not exist—happiness is earned, it's achieved. To dream anything you want to dream, and to be able to chase those dreams, that's what it means to be alive. Don't settle for any I-could-have's. Living a life of regret, no matter who or what you're leaving behind, is the most painful feeling of all. So go, songbird, but come back when your heart is full.

Gallyn cried. Halfling children hardly ever left their homes. What need did they have to, in the first place? He'd been half worried that they'd outright say no. Instead, his father gave in as he always did whenever his mother was concerned; he gave him his spidery network of fellow bards, his own lyre and a solemn wish for grand adventures. His mother gave him many leaf-wrapped biscuits, a small roll of maps, dried strips of rabbit and a woven bracelet for good fortune. His brothers and sisters jostled him around and made him promise to return with tales that would make their jaws drop. And then, he packed up his things, kissed his siblings and parents on the cheeks and set out with his musical instruments; his goal firm in his minds eye.

That seems like ages ago.


So begins...

Gallyn Weatherbee's Story