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Description

SO KNOCK ME DOWN

TEAR ME UP

I WOULD BEAR IT ALL BROKEN JUST TO FILL MY CUP

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THE BASICS

Name: Ulrich

Nicknames: Rich

Age: 20

Gender: Stallion

Breed: Horse

Build: Warmblood/Norman Cob/Trakehner

Height: 16.0 hh

Coat Color: Buckskin Roan Splash

Talent(s): --

Blessing(s): --

Voice: A youthful, light voice that betrays his older looks. Heavy onean accent.

Face claim: Jelani Alladin

RELATIONSHIPS
Patron God: Kaia and Cascade

Orientation: Straight-ish

Relationship Status: Hmm

Family:

Ansgar, Iskalder, Cerys, Synn

Parents: Thorfin (Father, NPC), Dana (Mother, NPC)

Herd Affiliation: Bloody Flanks (War-Forged)

Rank: Raider

PERSONALITY
Rash, crude, and at times, impulsive. Headstrong and hardy, but keen and eager to learn. Dedicated to his clan. Wishes for the praise of others, wants to make his family proud.

At the first glance of an untrained eye, Ulrich passes for nothing more than an idiotic, foolish boy. His words often spill out of his mouth without restraint, he is rude and crass with his language, and he never thinks before he speaks.

Fortunately for Ulrich, first glances rarely tell the full story. The above is all true; Ulrich rarely spends much time to think of just what he is saying, which results in offended egos all around and accidental insults. Fortunately, he seems to use his brain a little more with his mentors and elders. He respects them greatly, and will serve them in any way he can, in hopes for recognition. He wants the praise of others, wishing for approval and words of validation. He wants to show the world he is great, just like his father.

To his Bloody Flanks brethren, Ulrich is a familiar face with a presence that is often impossible to ignore, with his loud voice and foolish actions. On a more positive note, he is also known as a keen boy with a heart of fire. It is unlikely one will see him without his infectious smile, or without his friends. He has been trained well by the best of the raiders, and he is quick to action. Hardy and headstrong, it is what keeps his blood pulsing through battle, and what keeps him alive through the day. Yet, at the same time, Ulrich almost needs the assistance of his mentors; if left alone, his impulsive behavior will most certainly get him killed one day.

While typically quite upbeat, the split between the clan has spurred on new emotions he does not fully understand and cannot distinguish. His passion for raiding is fueled by this unrest in his soul, and he hopes to use it for his advantage. This is where his strength lies; in his dedication to his clan. He is willing to die for them, and would consider his sacrifice a great honor. The love for the Bloody Flanks is what keeps him going.

HISTORY

Ulrich was born to a once proud raider and his young medic wife, at the cusp of autumn before the freeze of winter. He had been long awaited by his parents, as their only child; all his siblings had not been so lucky with the tumultuous past of the Flanks. They both were anxious when he was born, fearing that if he was weak, he would not survive the bitter cold of the north. Fortunately for the clan, weakness was a thing of the past. From the moment Ulrich could stand on his legs, he was a little spitfire and terror. He followed at the heels of his father, imitating him in any way possible. He looked up to Thorfin, listening to the tales he spun of great ships and monsters and riches far away, wishing one day he could be just like him. The idea of sailing across the open seas, running across foreign lands with his clan excited his imagination. Dana, of course, was not as enthusiastic about his heavy interest in raiding. She wished he would be calmer, wished he would be suited for something safer, but Ulrich would have none of it. His heart desired the path of a raider.

He trained alongside the older boys, his father showing him the ropes of how to handle weapons, the basics. Scuffles between him and others were commonplace as he tried to figure just where he belonged in the world, despite all of his mother’s scoldings. He had always been a rabble rouser, something his father never discouraged. He did attempt to hold himself back, to make his mother content- which it did. Life was pleasant for a while.

At least until his father left on a ship, when he was seven. Thorfin bid his wife farewell, and told his son, be brave. What was a Bloody Flank without bravery, after all? He was bound south with his brothers in arms, with hopes in their heart of a successful raid. Ulrich watched as he sailed off the coast, and watched as that same ship sailed back. He asked no questions when he did not see his father.

Ulrich changed. For years, he had lived his life for his father, to make him proud, and now what? He was gone, dead. For months, he walked with the weight of a ghost on his back, his heart aching, and his interests in raiding now gone. He was fortunate to have caught the eye of Ansgar, a son of Gidal. Whether it was genuine interest or pity that drew Ansgar to Ulrich, it did not matter. The older stallion approached Ulrich with the offer to train under him, and though he was hesitant, he took it.

Ansgar was not soft on him, as gentle words rarely got through a boy’s thick head. His lessons were long, and hard, and Ulrich listened well during each one. Ulrich was one stubborn horse, and he fought to earn his respect, keeping his teachings close to his heart. As the years passed by, Ulrich looked up to Ansgar as he once had to Thorfin. In hindsight, he had lost his birth father, but gained a new one in spirit. He would learn soon that bonds forged in labor were stronger than that of blood.

Ulrich spent his later years raiding with the crew of the Abaddon, his strength lying in his ferocity and loyalty. He was glad to realize it was everything Thorfin’s stories said it would be. He lived life to the fullest, the hopes of marching back on the War-Forged in his head.

Those hopes disappeared when Vidar discovered Astrid was sent away, and turned against his own brothers, and split the clan in two.

He felt anger and rage burn in his gut, which increased tenfold after the fall of the Ghosthold, which wounded his mother. How laughable that the prodigal son that brought rebirth wrought destruction as well?

With vengeance in his heart, he marches on the War-Forged with Ansgar on foot, ready to bring the hell their clan has felt for so long.

OTHER

Quick on his feet, rather than a boulder of muscle.

Keeps his mane short to avoid anyone grabbing at him.

-

ref used

CREDITS

Design by me

Reference art by me

cheeb by @/queerly

headshot by @/manabuns

Pixel by me

Description

SO KNOCK ME DOWN

TEAR ME UP

I WOULD BEAR IT ALL BROKEN JUST TO FILL MY CUP

ap tracker | theme | moodboard

THE BASICS

Name: Ulrich

Nicknames: Rich

Age: 20

Gender: Stallion

Breed: Horse

Build: Warmblood/Norman Cob/Trakehner

Height: 16.0 hh

Coat Color: Buckskin Roan Splash

Talent(s): --

Blessing(s): --

Voice: A youthful, light voice that betrays his older looks. Heavy onean accent.

Face claim: Jelani Alladin

RELATIONSHIPS
Patron God: Kaia and Cascade

Orientation: Straight-ish

Relationship Status: Hmm

Family:

Ansgar, Iskalder, Cerys, Synn

Parents: Thorfin (Father, NPC), Dana (Mother, NPC)

Herd Affiliation: Bloody Flanks (War-Forged)

Rank: Raider

PERSONALITY
Rash, crude, and at times, impulsive. Headstrong and hardy, but keen and eager to learn. Dedicated to his clan. Wishes for the praise of others, wants to make his family proud.

At the first glance of an untrained eye, Ulrich passes for nothing more than an idiotic, foolish boy. His words often spill out of his mouth without restraint, he is rude and crass with his language, and he never thinks before he speaks.

Fortunately for Ulrich, first glances rarely tell the full story. The above is all true; Ulrich rarely spends much time to think of just what he is saying, which results in offended egos all around and accidental insults. Fortunately, he seems to use his brain a little more with his mentors and elders. He respects them greatly, and will serve them in any way he can, in hopes for recognition. He wants the praise of others, wishing for approval and words of validation. He wants to show the world he is great, just like his father.

To his Bloody Flanks brethren, Ulrich is a familiar face with a presence that is often impossible to ignore, with his loud voice and foolish actions. On a more positive note, he is also known as a keen boy with a heart of fire. It is unlikely one will see him without his infectious smile, or without his friends. He has been trained well by the best of the raiders, and he is quick to action. Hardy and headstrong, it is what keeps his blood pulsing through battle, and what keeps him alive through the day. Yet, at the same time, Ulrich almost needs the assistance of his mentors; if left alone, his impulsive behavior will most certainly get him killed one day.

While typically quite upbeat, the split between the clan has spurred on new emotions he does not fully understand and cannot distinguish. His passion for raiding is fueled by this unrest in his soul, and he hopes to use it for his advantage. This is where his strength lies; in his dedication to his clan. He is willing to die for them, and would consider his sacrifice a great honor. The love for the Bloody Flanks is what keeps him going.

HISTORY

Ulrich was born to a once proud raider and his young medic wife, at the cusp of autumn before the freeze of winter. He had been long awaited by his parents, as their only child; all his siblings had not been so lucky with the tumultuous past of the Flanks. They both were anxious when he was born, fearing that if he was weak, he would not survive the bitter cold of the north. Fortunately for the clan, weakness was a thing of the past. From the moment Ulrich could stand on his legs, he was a little spitfire and terror. He followed at the heels of his father, imitating him in any way possible. He looked up to Thorfin, listening to the tales he spun of great ships and monsters and riches far away, wishing one day he could be just like him. The idea of sailing across the open seas, running across foreign lands with his clan excited his imagination. Dana, of course, was not as enthusiastic about his heavy interest in raiding. She wished he would be calmer, wished he would be suited for something safer, but Ulrich would have none of it. His heart desired the path of a raider.

He trained alongside the older boys, his father showing him the ropes of how to handle weapons, the basics. Scuffles between him and others were commonplace as he tried to figure just where he belonged in the world, despite all of his mother’s scoldings. He had always been a rabble rouser, something his father never discouraged. He did attempt to hold himself back, to make his mother content- which it did. Life was pleasant for a while.

At least until his father left on a ship, when he was seven. Thorfin bid his wife farewell, and told his son, be brave. What was a Bloody Flank without bravery, after all? He was bound south with his brothers in arms, with hopes in their heart of a successful raid. Ulrich watched as he sailed off the coast, and watched as that same ship sailed back. He asked no questions when he did not see his father.

Ulrich changed. For years, he had lived his life for his father, to make him proud, and now what? He was gone, dead. For months, he walked with the weight of a ghost on his back, his heart aching, and his interests in raiding now gone. He was fortunate to have caught the eye of Ansgar, a son of Gidal. Whether it was genuine interest or pity that drew Ansgar to Ulrich, it did not matter. The older stallion approached Ulrich with the offer to train under him, and though he was hesitant, he took it.

Ansgar was not soft on him, as gentle words rarely got through a boy’s thick head. His lessons were long, and hard, and Ulrich listened well during each one. Ulrich was one stubborn horse, and he fought to earn his respect, keeping his teachings close to his heart. As the years passed by, Ulrich looked up to Ansgar as he once had to Thorfin. In hindsight, he had lost his birth father, but gained a new one in spirit. He would learn soon that bonds forged in labor were stronger than that of blood.

Ulrich spent his later years raiding with the crew of the Abaddon, his strength lying in his ferocity and loyalty. He was glad to realize it was everything Thorfin’s stories said it would be. He lived life to the fullest, the hopes of marching back on the War-Forged in his head.

Those hopes disappeared when Vidar discovered Astrid was sent away, and turned against his own brothers, and split the clan in two.

He felt anger and rage burn in his gut, which increased tenfold after the fall of the Ghosthold, which wounded his mother. How laughable that the prodigal son that brought rebirth wrought destruction as well?

With vengeance in his heart, he marches on the War-Forged with Ansgar on foot, ready to bring the hell their clan has felt for so long.

OTHER

Quick on his feet, rather than a boulder of muscle.

Keeps his mane short to avoid anyone grabbing at him.

-

ref used

CREDITS

Design by me

Reference art by me

cheeb by @/queerly

headshot by @/manabuns

Pixel by me