Age: 20
Race: Human
Physical Description: A life of daily working in the fields for the farmers of Shim with his father, Brindyn Gabry, coupled with the scant meals that their meager wages provided, has developed Brin into a rather gangly youth. Standing at six feet and weighing scantly over 165 lbs, he istall and thin, but built hard and wiry like the tough root of a tree, his skin tanned from the ever-present beating of the sun as he worked and his head topped with short-cropped dair hair. Good-natured Brin's dark brown eyes are almost black, a feature along with his boyish good looks that had helped him find favor with a number of the farmer's daughters in Shim, allow his heart has only belonged to one.
Possessions:
- Brin has just joined the City Guard and has minimal possessions due to circumstances causing him to leave his home in Shim in a hurry. He has standard issue equipment of the guard and he does not favor wearing much of the armor as it weighs down his small frame. Furthermore he much prefers his heavy bladed daggers over the sword or a spear that reminds him of his use with the quarterstaff back in his herding and wrangling days
- The clothes he rode into Marn wearing: a white shirt, sturdy brown britches, and worn brown leather boots.
- 8 year old gelding Brin calls "Dirtyboy". The horse is sure-footed and fast over short distances, but nevertheless just a typical cattle horse, dark brown in color with a white snip on his nose and prone to rolling in dirt when he isn't being ridden. The horse technically does not belong to Brin but Brin feels ownership over the horse he has ridden for 5 years. The farmers he worked for wrangling cattle and sheep needed Brin to have a horse to do his job, and Dirty was given to him as little more than equipment to do the work.
- An odd pair of daggers his father gave him on his 18th nameday - each blade eight inches in length and thick enough to withstand the strike of a sword in a blocking stance, sharp only on one edge and slightly curving to a point. The hilt of each dagger is plain braided leather but also oddly curved for enhanced grip, almost like the handle of a pistol. The final oddity to the weapons are the guards, short and bronze with a loop large enough for the index finger to rest in on the same end as the curvature of the blade. The loop, aftermuch practice by Brin, gives him the ability to spin the daggers on a finger, and he spins them often unconsciously, unsheathing them with an outward spin and sheathing them in reverse with quick dexterity. (The daggers were a form of payment that Brin's father had received from a merchant who had asked for an escort past the old manor in Shim. The merchant had been haunted by some past experience there and had offered payment if someone would ride along beside the wagon as "protection" and Brindyn had taken the job. Despite being disappointed on the lack of Bishan as payment - you can't buy food with a dagger, after all - when Brindyn saw his son's interest in the pair of knives, he gave them to him.)
Strengths:
- Agile: Brin is fast on his feet and quick with his hands
- Dexterity: Brin is used to working with his hands and has amazing hand-eye coordination. Brin has an aptitude for throwing things and hitting his target.
- Greenthumb/handiness: Brin is familiar with gardening and good at fixing things with his hands, skills up throughout his youth
- Riding: Brin is a brilliant horseman and often breaks young horses in Shim, usually for Petyr Turvulion.
- Basic education: Brin's has one book, a collection of stories of heroism and fables that his mother used to read to him, that Brin has read countless times. He learned to read and write by copying this book and can now tell the stories by memory.
- Work ethic: A life of working in the dirt with rough and tumble men has also developed a quick cunning in Brin, who enjoys good quips and sarcasm. His typical good-natured attitude and strong work ethic encourages those around him to want to work with him.
- Dependable: Brin is honest, hard-working, and task-orientated, the traits of the men he has read about and desperately longs to mimic; his father used to beat him when he would lie and this has caused Brin to hardly ever sway from telling the truth
Weaknesses:
- Honesty: Brin's honest nature and sense of honor starkly contrast the average man or woman in Marn and Shim. Because of his trusting nature he can be easily taken advantage of and he wholeheartedly disbelieves that in real life, people are not as good as they are in the stories
- Education: Brin's book is no more than a children's book of fables and stories, meaning that largely his ability to read and write anything other than basic words are beyond his grasp
- Worldview: Brin's stories and limited exposure to Marn, along with his father's persistant sheltering over his son, have created a false ideology of the world around him - Brin sees the Guard as honorable knights of righteousness and valor, ladies as damsels in distress, and other typical themes that are largely non-existent in the present day and age. Some find this admirable, others find it exasperating that he won't give up his storybook ideas.
- Reluctance in leadership: Typically, Brin's good nature and positive attitude make him a joy to be around and although he could easily turn this into being a strong, motivational leader, he is reluctant to take charge
- Brin's size: Joining the Guard and it's consistent meals and training regiment are beginning to slowly show an effect on Brin's frame but Brin feels inadequate and unsure of himself against men that are larger than himself
- Limited dexterity: Brin is very accurate with throwing but for some reason he cannot shoot a crossbow or bow consistently, oftentimes missing the target.
- Analytical: Recent experiences have caused Brin to now think too much; where at one time he was quick to action, he now sometimes struggles with what the right or wrong thing is to do; taking too long to think can lead to consequences worse than acting first and thinking later
- Nervousness: When he is thinking, he is prone to unconsciously spin his daggers on his fingers. It's a giveaway to others once they know him that he is unsure of a move or is anticipating what to do next; to those he doesn't know, it can cause him unwanted attention as it seems he is pulling his knife on someone or trying to intimidate
- Strong feelings against gnomish technology after his history and limited knowledge
History:
Brin's mother died when he was young of a terrible illness after a family visit to Marn, but he can still remember the lullaby she used to sing to him at night after reading him one of the stories out of their favorite book. Things had changed after she died. Brin's father, Brindyn, stopped going to Marn and secluded himself and Brin to life in their one room shack along the edge of Shim. Brin grew up poorer than most, even by Shim standards. His father owned no lands, had no claim in a farm, and both worked for the neighbors, picking up a number of odd jobs for a handful of bishan or meals, when Brindyn wasn't too drunk from "escaping memories of your mother". When Brin became old enough and skilled enough to sit a horse and help wrangle cattle and sheep as a hired hand, the bishan came more steadily but he and his father still kept a humble living, his father always stashing any leftover bishan in a chest beneath his bed. It was hard telling how much was in the chest; Brin never asked and his father never offered. It was barely an existence, but it was an existence - Brin's days on horseback, his nights spent reading his stories and his secret meetings with Mikaela Turvulion.
Mikaela was the daughter of Petyr Turvulion, a farmer with one of the largest plots of land and herds of cattle. A prosperous farmer by Shim standards but mostly well-known amongst the men in Shim for his three lovely daughters. Brin and Mikaela's story reminded him of the tale in his book about Lofti and Jun, the pauper and the princess, who forsook societal standards in order to be together. Much like Jun's father hated Lofti, Mikaela's father wanted her to have nothing to do with a poor farmhand with the drunkard, lazy father.
On the day he traveled to her farmhouse to confront her father and take Mikaela as his bride, Brin had helped two men on the side of the road replace a package that had fallen off the back of one of their horses. The package had been wrapped in a blue cloth that reminded him of Mikaela's window curtains and the daydream caused Brin to not even pay attention to the faces of the two men he had helped. Before he knew it, they were on their way and so was he.
But when he arrived at the Tervulion's farm and snuck into Mikaela's room, Brin knew something was the matter when he realized she wasn't there. Brin gets caught in her bedroom and falsely accused of kidnapping his daughter by Petyr who threatened to kill Brin, pulling an old gnomish pistol on Brin and pressing it tight against his head. Brin reacted quickly by yanking the pistol from Petyr's grasp and leaping out through the window. Brin hopped bareback onto his work horse the Tervulion's let him use, Dirtyboy, and chased after the kidnappers, vowing to save Mikaela. A few hours later, he found them in a small outcrop of woods not far from the old manor in Shim. As he approached their camp, he overheard one of the men talking about what a find Mikaela was - apparently they had followed Mikaela's family from a previous day's visit in Marn, drawn by her beauty and concocting a plan on how to have her - and while discussing what he planned to do with her, Brin overheard one of the men remind the other that they had to be back for guard duty in the city before nightfall. This shocks Brin who lives in the world of his stories and always considered the City Guard in Marn as honorable men like the storybook knights, and his gasp of surprise blows the cover he had.
The guards mocked him when they realized they had kidnapped his lover and jested about how kind Brin had been to have helped them get her back on the horse earlier that day. When Brin noticed Mikaela's unconscious figure laying against a tree, her clothes torn and her body battered, Brin sees it as an opportunity to take justice into his own hands like another of his storybook heroes, Brock the Brave, and thinking the pistol gave him an upper hand, brandished the weapon. Before thinking of a better plan, he points and fires at one of the guards.
When Brin finally awoke, he was unsure of what to do. The pain of Mikaela's death - at his own foolish hand - was too much to bear. Mikaela's father would be looking for him, if he wasn't after him already. He couldn't go home, they would look for him there first. Leave Shim? Did he dare run to Marn and lose himself in the city? Thoughts of Marn reminded Brin of the City Guard and his fists clenched angrily. Perhaps if he made it to Marn and joined the City Guard he could find the two guardsmen who had forsaken their vows to uphold the law by kidnapping his Mikaela which resulted in her death. Then he could expose them to the proper officials who would see justice served! Surely, the Captain of the City Guard would want to know if two of his members were filthy, lying, thieving pigs in the armor of valorous knights marring the goodness of true heroes like those in the stories. Brin rubbed his head where the pommel had struck him unconscious and fuzzed his thoughts. That is, if Brin could remember who the two guards were.In horror, Brin watched as red blood blossomed on the bosom of Mikaela's dress. Her beautiful brown eyes opened in surprise before closing again, her head slumping to the side in death. He stared down at the pistol in his shaking hand, confusion settling in his mind. Mikaela's body sat against a tree to the right, twenty feet away from where he had pointed the pistol at the guard to his left. How would he have missed?
"Idiot boy," the bigger guard he had shot at said with a gruff laugh. "Gnomish tech is always tricky. That shooter don't belong to you, does it boy? Shouldn't touch a pistol you don't know the quirks of, kinda like you don't touch a woman you don't know the quirks of. Now you killed her and we can't have no fun."
Brin dropped the pistol and slumped to his knees. He couldn't take his eyes off Mikaela. She was...gone. Somewhere in his stomach, anger swelled up against the two men who had caused this to begin with, swirling with about a hundred other emotions Brin felt. The mixture wasn't a good one and Brin doubled over to retch, emptying his stomach.
Brin felt as weak as a kitten. The two guards approached, the bigger guard on his left and the other guard, who walked as if he were uncomfortable to be there in this situation, on his right. He couldn't make out their faces clearly for the tears in his eyes and their voices seemed muffled as if his head were under water - he barely made out that they were planning on leaving Brin there to take the fault for the girl's kidnapping, when the big guard struck Brin on the head with the pommel of his dagger. As his vision slowly faded to black Brin couldn't help but think that this wasn't at all like the ending of one of his stories.
