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Peatwyn (prime)
{{#if: 
{{#if: Peatwyn visiting home | |
Peatwyn visiting home | |||||
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{{#if: Forest Gnome |
! valign="top" | Race
| align="right" valign="top" | Forest Gnome
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{{#if: Rosengift |
! valign="top" | Culture
| align="right" valign="top" | Rosengift {{#if: |
[[]] |}}
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{{#if: |
! valign="top" | Hometown
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{{#if: Cleric |
! valign="top" | Class
| align="right" valign="top" | Cleric
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{{#if: Self-Styled Hound of the Huntress |
! valign="top" | Profession
| align="right" valign="top" | Self-Styled Hound of the Huntress
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|}}
{{#if: The Huntress |
! valign="top" | Religion
| align="right" valign="top" | The Huntress
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|}}
{{#if: Order of Voln
Gilded Discord
Order of the Silver Gryphons |
! valign="top" | Affiliation(s)
| align="right" valign="top" | Order of Voln
Gilded Discord
Order of the Silver Gryphons
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|}}
{{#if: ebullient |
! valign="top" style="white-space: nowrap;"| In-a-Word
| align="right" valign="top" | ebullient
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{{#if: optimistic |
! valign="top" | Disposition
| align="right" valign="top" | optimistic
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|}}
{{#if: friendly, happy-go-lucky, naive, childlike, annoying |
! valign="top" | Demeanor
| align="right" valign="top" | friendly, happy-go-lucky, naive, childlike, annoying
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{{#if: "Passionate" |
! valign="top" style="white-space: nowrap;"| Primary Trait
| align="right" valign="top" | "Passionate"
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{{#if: Sensitive |
! valign="top" style="white-space: nowrap;"| Secondary Trait
| align="right" valign="top" | Sensitive
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{{#if: distractible, zealous |
! valign="top" | Flaw
| align="right" valign="top" | distractible, zealous
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|}}
{{#if: Optimism |
! valign="top" style="white-space: nowrap;"| Greatest Strength
| align="right" valign="top" | Optimism
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|}}
{{#if: focus, fear, need-for-validation |
! valign="top" style="white-space: nowrap;"| Greatest Weakness
| align="right" valign="top" | focus, fear, need-for-validation
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{{#if: 2 baths and six meals a day, pontificating verbosely |
! valign="top" | Habits
| align="right" valign="top" | 2 baths and six meals a day, pontificating verbosely
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|}}
{{#if: Shawm performance. Donkey Husbandry |
! valign="top" style="white-space: nowrap;"| Hobbies
| align="right" valign="top" | Shawm performance. Donkey Husbandry
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|}}
{{#if: His Mother, His Donkey Ignatius, His Friends |
! valign="top" style="white-space: nowrap;"| Soft Spots
| align="right" valign="top" | His Mother, His Donkey Ignatius, His Friends
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|}}
{{#if: poetry, games of all kinds, archery, corner preaching |
! valign="top" | Likes
| align="right" valign="top" | poetry, games of all kinds, archery, corner preaching
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|}}
{{#if: tyranny |
! valign="top" | Dislikes
| align="right" valign="top" | tyranny
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|}}
{{#if: danger to his loved ones, not being enough |
! valign=""top"" | Fears
| align="right" valign="top" | danger to his loved ones, not being enough
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|}}
{{#if: His Friends and Companions |
! valign="top" | Loyalties
| align="right" valign="top" | His Friends and Companions
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|}}
{{#if: |
! valign="top" | Best Friend
| align="right" valign="top" |
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|}}
{{#if: |
! valign="top" | Spouse
| align="right" valign="top" |
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{{#if: |
! valign="top" style="white-space: nowrap;"| Loved One
| align="right" valign="top" |
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{{#if: |
! style="white-space: nowrap;"| Children
| align="right" valign="top" |
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|}}
|}
|}{{#ifeq: {{{categories}}} | no ||}}{{#if: Prime | }} {{#if: Solhaven | }} {{#if: | [[Category: {{{town2}}} player characters]] }} {{#if: Forest Gnome | }} {{#if: Rosengift | }} {{#if: | [[Category: {{{culture2}}} player characters]] }}
Peatwyn
★- "I'm blessed - doubly so"."'
- You see Peatwyn the Master of the Order of Voln
- He appears to be a Forest Gnome of the Rosengift Bloodline.
- He is taller than average. He appears to be in the prime of life. He has beady sea green eyes and ruddy skin. He has chin length, unruly salt-and-pepper grey hair in a wild miasma of tangles. He has a squat and jowl-set, weathered little face, a flattened, snub nose and ripped nostrils, while a variety of hastily assembled false teeth fill his mouth and are riddled with uneven gaps and open spaces.
★-About Peatwyn:
Coming Soon
★-Associates
Friends of Peatwyn
-Back Story:
Coming Soon...
-Vignettes
★-::“The Gilded Discord”
(Peatwyn’s Personal Account, scribbled half in ink and half in memory, somewhere between a hymn and a hazard)
- It began, as most divine misadventures do, with a snowflake.
- A quiet thing, that flake. Tame. Timid. Unaware it was the harbinger of holy chaos.
- I was already midway through a blistering sidewalk sermon—crossbow cocked, soul unlocked—when I saw him.
- Tower of gleaming gallantry, all storm-chiseled cheeks and polished poesy, stomping up the cobbles like the gods owed him change.
- And circling above his noble crown?
- A sprite. A spark. A shrieking giggle trapped in glitter, better known as Asrai.
- And me? Oh, I was in form!
- “With a crossbow cursed and a hymn on high,
- I’ll bless ya, bury ya, or make you cry!”
- The street lit like flint on frost. Cobbles woke up. Voices perked.
- Eladarmi’s hands went to his mandolin like he’d been born clutching it.
- And the next thing I know, we’re dueling—not in blood, but in ballad.
- He strummed like thunder in church. I piped like sin in a songbook.
- He was verse and valor. I was rhythm and rogue.
- And oh, the people loved it!
- Sylvanya howled.
- Lilanna wheezed.
- Asrai—well, she was spinning above us like a moon-drunk hummingbird leading a choir of bees.
- Then... it happened.
- In the lull between refrains, just as I’m taking a breath to deliver something profound about repentance through rhythm, he leans in.
- Eladarmi. The Shining. The Tower of Storm and Song.
- He leans in—toward the sprite, presumably—with intent on his face and snow melting in his hair.
- A kiss aimed for her brow, like some saintly benediction upon a mischievous familiar.
- And Asrai? The glittering goblin of fate?
- She dodged!
- Maybe intentionally. Maybe not. I rather think she simply wiggled in the way all fate does:
- in---conveniently.
- And Eladarmi?
- He kissed me!
- Dead center. Cheek. Warm. Surprised. Mid-word.
- I blinked.
- He stammered.
- The crowd exploded!
- “I—I was aiming for the sprite!” he pleaded, crimson creeping up his ears.
- I smirked, because really, what else does one do in such a moment?
- “The sprite is deft and daft,” I said, invoking divine dignity, “in its penance for puckered tomfoolery.”
- The sprite, of course, was now airborne with laughter, looking ready to combust into sparkles and shame.
- But I wasn’t done!
- Not even close!
- and while Eladarmi struggled to compose himself, adjusting his armor like modesty was leaking out of the seams,
- I leaned in again—soft as sin,
- sweet as sacrament—and kissed him back.
- He yelped. Audibly!
- Like someone had snuck a banshee under his breastplate. Hahaha
- “That was not an invitation!” he bellowed.
- “I was fey-wrought,” I replied innocently,
- because let’s be honest, that excuse works for everything.
- The sprite shrieked in delight.
- Lilanna choked.
- A squirrel died, probably.
- I blessed my donkey, made my farewell grand—
- '“I RIDE FOR THE RIFT! BEFORE TOMORROW’S MEMORY REMEMBERS ME WRONGLY!”
- —and departed with the flair of a gnome who had just rewritten half a bard’s romantic subplot.
- And as I trotted out of town, my shawm slung across my back, heart full of mischief and melody, I thought:
- We are a band now, aren’t we?
- He with his hymns,
- me with my heresies.
- The sprite with her chaos.
- The others, laughing behind us like footnotes of fate.
- We’ve no proper name yet. Not really.
- The Gilded Discord was floated. So was Peatwyn and the Accidental Kiss. I admit a fondness for both.
- But whatever we call ourselves, the world will remember us.
- As snow that sings.
- As songs that spark.
- As laughter between verses and kisses misplaced.
- Tonight, I ride for quiet places. But I carry with me a harmony—half sacred, half silly.
- And in the silent halls of Voln, if a tune echoes down the stone—
- “With a crossbow cursed and a hymn on high…”
- —they’ll know we passed through.
- And they'll either weep or waltz.
- Maybe both.
★-::“The Gilded Discord”::★