Becanbran Townward
Oct 26, 2018 15:52:52 GMT -5
Post by Becanbran Townward on Oct 26, 2018 15:52:52 GMT -5
.The Facade.
Character Name: Becanbran Townward
Name Meaning: Small Raven, Child of the Town.
Age: 37
Date of Birth: Foreyule of 2973 TA (on a Mersday)
Race: Hobbit.
Residence: Bree.
Profession: Innkeeper's Helper and Amateur Fisherman
Appearance: Becanbran has short, messy, dark hair that is prone to curl no matter how wet it gets. He has pale eyes and fair skin. Thanks to his Stoor roots he is stockier than many Shire hobbits and can grow facial hair, though he still cannot swim. He has a wide, beak-like nose and defined lines around his mouth usually classified as smile lines (in his case they are more likely sneer-lines). Because he is a hobbit he appears to be be slightly younger than he really is, but the trade off is that he also only stands at 3'8" and so is likely to be mistaken for an especially hairy child by the tall folk regardless of his actual age.
Personality: Just because he happens to live east of the Brandywine, even beyond the Buckland, doesn't mean Becanbran is prone to adventuring or being particularly friendly with outsiders. Quite the opposite, in fact. The only thing he does that is moderately adventurous is being a bit closer to the water than most Hobbits, though less so than his ancestors. He gawks at the friendliness of hobbits bred of Fallohide stock, and so isn't very Tookish at all. Bec is generally a "down with this sort of thing" kind of hobbit all around and would make a much better fit in Hobbiton than in Bree.
Unfortunately he has never had the chance to wander that far west, both because of a lack of opportunity, and an internal dread that such a move would certainly count as adventure, and adventures are objectively dangerous. He has never wandered far from home at all, in fact, in spite of having ample opportunity to travel as freely as he wishes. He simply doesn't wish to.
Becanbran is usually a helpful sort, even to those he doesn't particularly like. He enjoys being useful to others but he is also aware that he has a lot of short-comings when it comes to being actually helpful. It worries him, and he fears that perhaps someday he will outlive his usefulness to everyone. He will generally follow the orders of anyone who seems to know what they're doing better than himself (and that is a very large group which includes pretty much everyone), though he is also likely to grumble about doing so and frown if it interrupts his routines.
He isn't over-fond of all the different types that come into the Prancing Pony, but they pay, and it is a decent living even if they bring all sorts of unpleasant tales and quests along with them. He'd much prefer to spend his time enjoying the simpler life of fishing along the river, but he simply cannot compete with the Men's boats as far as profits go and so forces himself to suffer the company of strangers and Rangers and who knows what else nowadays.
The wold is becoming an awful strange place indeed, and that's a bad concept for a Hobbit alone.
Parents:
Maple Townward (mother- 95 years old)
Gilbert Townward(father- 98 years old)
Sibling(s):
Poppy Townward-Fleetfoot (elder sister- 70 years old)
Beldon Townward (elder brother- 65 years old)
Spouse:
None
Children:
None
History:
Becanbran was born in the hobbit town of Staddle, near Bree, to a happy little family of farmers. He wasn't exactly expected. After all, by the time he was born his parents were rapidly approaching their 60s! His siblings had already found spouses of their own, started their own families, and no one was prepared to care for a winter-born infant at that time. The child was born quite small, but with a thick crop of black hair already on his head. And so his name was given.
The winter was harsh. It was only thanks to the help of others that the couple could keep the crops AND the babe alive through those trying first few years. It takes a village to raise a child, or so the saying goes. It mostly just made the young hobbit grow to feel like a burden. He tried to keep himself busy, so as to not disturb his parents, and even tried to help in the field or hearth before his time. Most attempts to be helpful ended in disaster. Uneven cuts, wasted yields, burned meals. Even as he grew up the only thing he was good at regarding fire and crop was smoking.
Of course, he wasn't great at that, either. He actually LIKED the Southlinch brand.
He decided to move away from home in his mid-twenties, though he didn't get very far. He went from Staddle to Bree, and stayed put there. One could hardly blame Bec for that. Bree was a much larger city than Staddle- literally! It was mainly inhabited by Men, after all. They were accommodating to their small neighbors, but that didn't make it less intimidating. His first night there in the inn, the Prancing Pony had a bar fight and the poor hobbit was nearly trampled. It put him right off this whole experience and he decided that he needed to get himself a home and stop this foolishness of travelling already.
He'd consider turning around and heading straight back to Staddle if it didn't mean admitting failure to his family, who had attempted to talk him out of the entire affair from the beginning.
That was certainly not going to happen. He'd either make this work, or it would kill him.
He worked at the inn to pay for his keep, and he took up a position as a fisherman's helper on the shore-side. it was fine work, though exhausting both physically and mentally. He was too much an introvert for the patrons of the inn, and he was too small to easily move the fish from boat to barrel. But he worked hard and he was eventually able to pay his way toward his own little hole on the hill. By the time he'd worked all that out, he wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself. He hadn't quite planned that far ahead. Did he find a new job? He was only working at the inn for the coin, after all. He could quit and focus on fishing? But he knew how the men fished. If he wanted to start his own business, he'd be out-competed and put out of business before he even began. He hadn't gotten any better at cooking or farming, so that was right out...
So, here he is. Still doing what he was doing before. He works at the inn running around and helping the customers. He sweeps, and cleans, and stays as far from the kitchens as possible. Then, if he finds time or has the day off, he goes down to the river with a pole and some hand-carved lures and does some nice, relaxing fishing. Sometimes he even hops on someone else's boat, taking the risk just for the opportunity to catch more.
He is an adult, now. A proper one. And people keep asking him if he's looking for a pretty lass, or try to set him up with someone, but he is very good at avoiding the topic altogether whenever it rears its ugly head. He isn't interested in getting married right now. It is much too complicated and he is much too busy. And, frankly, it is a terrifying prospect.
After all, falling in love sounds an awful lot like an adventure. And who would want that?
Character Name: Becanbran Townward
Name Meaning: Small Raven, Child of the Town.
Age: 37
Date of Birth: Foreyule of 2973 TA (on a Mersday)
Race: Hobbit.
Residence: Bree.
Profession: Innkeeper's Helper and Amateur Fisherman
Appearance: Becanbran has short, messy, dark hair that is prone to curl no matter how wet it gets. He has pale eyes and fair skin. Thanks to his Stoor roots he is stockier than many Shire hobbits and can grow facial hair, though he still cannot swim. He has a wide, beak-like nose and defined lines around his mouth usually classified as smile lines (in his case they are more likely sneer-lines). Because he is a hobbit he appears to be be slightly younger than he really is, but the trade off is that he also only stands at 3'8" and so is likely to be mistaken for an especially hairy child by the tall folk regardless of his actual age.
Personality: Just because he happens to live east of the Brandywine, even beyond the Buckland, doesn't mean Becanbran is prone to adventuring or being particularly friendly with outsiders. Quite the opposite, in fact. The only thing he does that is moderately adventurous is being a bit closer to the water than most Hobbits, though less so than his ancestors. He gawks at the friendliness of hobbits bred of Fallohide stock, and so isn't very Tookish at all. Bec is generally a "down with this sort of thing" kind of hobbit all around and would make a much better fit in Hobbiton than in Bree.
Unfortunately he has never had the chance to wander that far west, both because of a lack of opportunity, and an internal dread that such a move would certainly count as adventure, and adventures are objectively dangerous. He has never wandered far from home at all, in fact, in spite of having ample opportunity to travel as freely as he wishes. He simply doesn't wish to.
Becanbran is usually a helpful sort, even to those he doesn't particularly like. He enjoys being useful to others but he is also aware that he has a lot of short-comings when it comes to being actually helpful. It worries him, and he fears that perhaps someday he will outlive his usefulness to everyone. He will generally follow the orders of anyone who seems to know what they're doing better than himself (and that is a very large group which includes pretty much everyone), though he is also likely to grumble about doing so and frown if it interrupts his routines.
He isn't over-fond of all the different types that come into the Prancing Pony, but they pay, and it is a decent living even if they bring all sorts of unpleasant tales and quests along with them. He'd much prefer to spend his time enjoying the simpler life of fishing along the river, but he simply cannot compete with the Men's boats as far as profits go and so forces himself to suffer the company of strangers and Rangers and who knows what else nowadays.
The wold is becoming an awful strange place indeed, and that's a bad concept for a Hobbit alone.
.The Blood.
Parents:
Maple Townward (mother- 95 years old)
Gilbert Townward(father- 98 years old)
Sibling(s):
Poppy Townward-Fleetfoot (elder sister- 70 years old)
Beldon Townward (elder brother- 65 years old)
Spouse:
None
Children:
None
History:
Becanbran was born in the hobbit town of Staddle, near Bree, to a happy little family of farmers. He wasn't exactly expected. After all, by the time he was born his parents were rapidly approaching their 60s! His siblings had already found spouses of their own, started their own families, and no one was prepared to care for a winter-born infant at that time. The child was born quite small, but with a thick crop of black hair already on his head. And so his name was given.
The winter was harsh. It was only thanks to the help of others that the couple could keep the crops AND the babe alive through those trying first few years. It takes a village to raise a child, or so the saying goes. It mostly just made the young hobbit grow to feel like a burden. He tried to keep himself busy, so as to not disturb his parents, and even tried to help in the field or hearth before his time. Most attempts to be helpful ended in disaster. Uneven cuts, wasted yields, burned meals. Even as he grew up the only thing he was good at regarding fire and crop was smoking.
Of course, he wasn't great at that, either. He actually LIKED the Southlinch brand.
He decided to move away from home in his mid-twenties, though he didn't get very far. He went from Staddle to Bree, and stayed put there. One could hardly blame Bec for that. Bree was a much larger city than Staddle- literally! It was mainly inhabited by Men, after all. They were accommodating to their small neighbors, but that didn't make it less intimidating. His first night there in the inn, the Prancing Pony had a bar fight and the poor hobbit was nearly trampled. It put him right off this whole experience and he decided that he needed to get himself a home and stop this foolishness of travelling already.
He'd consider turning around and heading straight back to Staddle if it didn't mean admitting failure to his family, who had attempted to talk him out of the entire affair from the beginning.
That was certainly not going to happen. He'd either make this work, or it would kill him.
He worked at the inn to pay for his keep, and he took up a position as a fisherman's helper on the shore-side. it was fine work, though exhausting both physically and mentally. He was too much an introvert for the patrons of the inn, and he was too small to easily move the fish from boat to barrel. But he worked hard and he was eventually able to pay his way toward his own little hole on the hill. By the time he'd worked all that out, he wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself. He hadn't quite planned that far ahead. Did he find a new job? He was only working at the inn for the coin, after all. He could quit and focus on fishing? But he knew how the men fished. If he wanted to start his own business, he'd be out-competed and put out of business before he even began. He hadn't gotten any better at cooking or farming, so that was right out...
So, here he is. Still doing what he was doing before. He works at the inn running around and helping the customers. He sweeps, and cleans, and stays as far from the kitchens as possible. Then, if he finds time or has the day off, he goes down to the river with a pole and some hand-carved lures and does some nice, relaxing fishing. Sometimes he even hops on someone else's boat, taking the risk just for the opportunity to catch more.
He is an adult, now. A proper one. And people keep asking him if he's looking for a pretty lass, or try to set him up with someone, but he is very good at avoiding the topic altogether whenever it rears its ugly head. He isn't interested in getting married right now. It is much too complicated and he is much too busy. And, frankly, it is a terrifying prospect.
After all, falling in love sounds an awful lot like an adventure. And who would want that?