My parents named me Ofeig in the hopes that I would avoid a fae doom. In the course of my sojourns through the realm, I have become known as the Wanderer.
I grew quickly and tall; a scant sixteen years has sufficed for me to rise to six feet in height, but has not been time enough for me to fill out my frame, and I look lanky and awkward. A shock of unruly chestnut hair frames a sharp, narrow face with blued steel eyes flanking an aquiline nose.
Though not without wit, I find my greatest strengths in my limbs and hands. For now, I plan to hone my skills, and to gather such resources, reputation, and allies as I will need to fulfill the destiny I was raised to believe in: to rule.
A Sentimental Value: Metal
With neither family nor roof to shelter me, I knew that would need some way to protect myself from the perils of the world. Hanging neglected in a shed behind some rusty tools was a battered steel shield. Its braised boss was plain, indicating aught but its use. I reckoned that its sturdiness spoke for itself, with no need for device to indicate what it stood for. As such, it was the perfect shield for me.
Advisor Description
In the marketplace I suddenly encountered a buff man in a buff coat. His approach was forward, though not belligerent as he addressed me: "You are Ofeig, yes? I am Witman the Captain. You may remember me from your childhood, or perhaps not."
I was startled but not dismayed by the man; I sensed no malice in him. As I regrouped from my initial surprise, I examined him more closely. "I do recall you, sir," I said after a few moments. "You were a guest at our house once or twice."
Witman's nod was curt and matter of fact, like all else about him. "Once or twice, yes," he agreed. "Not as often as I would have wished. Like your father, I was often away on campaign. But now I am here. Your mother had asked me to look after you once you left home. I am sorry for your loss, by the way. Your mother was a good friend, so I have lost, as well."
I was unsure how I felt about this Witman laying claim to a share of bereavement at my mother's passing, but chose not to press the issue. I knew that I would need allies and counsel, and this Captain promised to be a useful one, especially when it came to leadership or combat.
"If you are to look after me," I told him, "then you should be prepared to travel. It is not for nothing that I am called the Wanderer. I plan to range far and wide in search of my fortune and destiny."
Witman smiled and nodded enthusiastically. He seemed not only unsurprised, but pleased by these words. "As well you should," he said, beaming with an expression that seemed oddly like fatherly pride. "Your mother said she expected great things of you. Such things do not lie beneath our beds. Far and wide it is, then."
Most beautiful lady of Ofeig
When I saw the woman, I felt as if the air had left my lungs and the ground dropped from my feet. Her skin was fair, though not pallid, smooth, with just a hint of freckles across her nose. Her hair was light reddish-brown and her eyes the grey-green of sage. She was small, but not frail. She held herself with poise. When our eyes met, she held my gaze for just a heart-stopping instant, and gave the hint of a smile before resuming her shopping. I hoped that I would see her again, and that she would see me again.