FL PC Tyosh Reuna - CC'd by WT

[Winter Mist]

DM Handle: Zylazlo-

Email: Skolnick_m@hotmail.com

Name: Tyosh Reuna

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Height: 5’10

Weight: 170

Eyes: Dark green, tilted.

Hair: Long black just lets it flow freely, heavy beard.

Place of Birth/Raising: Saldea, Maradon

History:

 

Tyosh’s story begins when he was just a lad. As a child, he always knew

what would become of him; he would own his father’s tavern. Just like his

father had known and his grandfather before him. He was happy with the

decision; he liked to have that kind of certainty in his life. But more than

the certainty, it was the pleasure of knowing he didn’t really have to

struggle. The tavern practically ran itself; he would live a comfortable

life maintaining the tavern. There was no actual satisfaction when he

thought about it; he would run the tavern to maintain the tavern. Most of

the time Tyosh considered having so much coin to his name to be a waste. He

was quite simplistic, have enough to survive and be happy and everything

else was just there to occupy space. But since running the tavern was

practically a family tradition, he accepted his future with enthusiasm. His

youngest memories were sitting in the tavern next to his father while he

served drinks and his mother prepared meals, both always trying to keep

their customers happy. And the years that followed were much the same, Tyosh

learning every trick of the trade. He tried to spend as much time as

possible in the tavern as if to soak in all the years of experience from his

father, not to mention on the whole he enjoyed it. The peddlers always

brought interesting wares, the caravans always brought pretty ladies to

dance with, there were a countless number of songs he learned from the bards

and he was a favorite anywhere because of all the stories and acrobatics he

had learned from gleemen. But most of all he thought it made his parents

happy.

 

That was why he was completely dumbfounded and shocked when on his

fifteenth his parents told him he was to live with his uncle and aunt for a

few seasons. Apparently the tavern wasn’t doing so well so they were sending

him away for a while until they were back on their feet. Tyosh had no choice

and decided it was all for the better and went quietly.

 

His aunt and uncle lived somewhat distanced from any established

community… they were what you would call hermits. Tyosh wouldn’t call

himself a city boy by any means but this lifestyle was just too different

from his accustomed life of shouting, laughing and singing. He would make

the most of it he supposed. He always wanted to take up on the offer his

uncle had proposed, of teaching him to shoot a bow, when in fact he would

learn so much more.

 

The very next day after he had a arrived at the small, bare cottage his

uncle awoke him a few moments before dawn, his only instruction being to get

ready and outside without delay. He did as he was told very grudgingly and

apparently with wool in his head. As soon as he stepped out the door a bow

and quiver were shoved into his arms along with a knife that was very close

to being a short sword. “Keep talk to a minimum and if you must talk keep it

to a low whisper†his uncle told him, Tysho found this a bit harsh but

followed the order anyways. After that his uncle motioned him into the thick

of a forest close by and in the forest they were engulfed in silence. Tysho

noticed his uncle moved with a smoothness and gracefulness he could only try

to emulate in some wild fantasy. But nonetheless he tried, and failed

miserably. After only a few hours Tysho had scared off dozens of rabbits, a

few deer and some ducks. “Well my boy, I thought maybe I could take you out

to get a feel for hunting but this is breakfast we’re looking for here, so

go on back while I get us a decent meal†his uncle said without putting much

thought into it. Tysho felt extremely disappointed in himself that he

couldn’t even accompany his uncle to hunt; at this rate he thought he’d

never get to hunt anything for himself.

 

Back at the cottage he arrived just in time to see his aunt about to

embark on her own little “hunting†with a basket in hand. By the look on her

face she guessed what happened and when she asked him if he wanted to

accompany her on some herb collecting he gladly accepted not wanting to stay

in the dull cottage alone. She enjoyed talking and Tysho let himself forget

about his earlier sullenness and take in the pleasure of good company. She

would talk about lots of things, how the furs her husband collected were

good money, about the weather, current events, she was apparently very in

need of someone to talk to. But one of the things she got really enthused

about talking about were the herbs, she went on and on about sawleaf,

redbell, hensfoot and about a hundred other herbs she knew the use of.

During the walk his aunt taught him some herb lore and told him the names of

some of the herbs they saw and collected. All in all it was pretty pleasant

for him.

 

Later that day his uncle decided to teach him slowly instead of just

throwing him into the wild. He took him into the woods again and showed him

the floor of the forest, its little clearings between leaves, which twigs

and branches to move and how to avoid scaring the animals by moving in synch

with the “life of nature†as his uncle called it. He didn’t progress much

that day, but it did help a bit. When they returned to the cottage his uncle

started teaching him the bow as well. In that at least Tysho seemed to be

proficient and after a few practice shots could dig an arrow deeply into a

haystack.

 

The days after that first, seemed to follow that same pattern. He kept

taking morning walks with his aunt and learned more and more about herb

lore. It wasn’t that he was trying to learn but with his aunt going on about

it, it sort of just seeped into his mind. His hunting however progressed a

bit slower, but nonetheless he progressed. But his abilities to keep quiet

were wasted though. He was becoming such a good shoot on the bow, that he

could hit prey when he was out of hearing distance.

 

He was always proud of his latest great catch, he’d skin the thing

himself, cook, gut it and all. Those little things his uncle taught him gave

him worth somehow. And when they’d travel to a market to sell the furs he’d

always boast a bit of his latest endeavors. He received letters from his

parents; the letters always avoided the subject of the tavern, so he

supposed they still weren’t all that great. But eventually there was talk

about the tavern, good talk. The tavern was gaining its old splendor back

and eventually they asked him to come back. He did play with the thought for

a bit but after some consideration he decided to stay. This life of solitude

and small achievements made him feel better then all his years at home, so

he decided to give himself more time at the cottage. He missed home but he

wouldn’t let that come in the way of becoming better in all the things he

now loved.

 

And to pass the time, his uncle decided he needed to toughen up a bit

and take up a good, reliable weapon, like a quarterstaff. And so after

hunting and practicing with his bow, his uncle and he would spar for great

lengths of time. The long duration was always at Tysho’s behest, trying to

get at least one blow on his uncle. He went to sleep everyday aching and

tired but somewhat fulfilled, in fact he noticed he hadn’t thought of home

in ages it seemed…

 

And that’s how the time passed, seasons became winters and before he

knew it 5 winter’s had passed in that far away cottage. By that time, he

could move like his uncle, one with nature, and truly hear all that nature

has to offer. He could best him at the quarterstaff every once in a while as

well. And his shooting only got faster, more precise and instinctive.

Herb-wise he could probably season a stew with herbs you’d never even heard

of and he’d even made a balm of his own that took the sting off of a nasty

cut.

 

But with all the time passed he decided it was enough he was going to go

home. He felt thankful to these people that taught him so much about

everything. He really couldn’t express his gratitude in words but he tried.

But they did express their feelings and gave him one of their horses, he

named it, Arrow. After much difficulty, leaving such wonderful people was

very saddening, he set off for Maradon.

 

He didn’t realize how much he’d miss his parents; as soon as he arrived

he felt something well up in his throat. He walked through the door of the

tavern and truly felt awkward. He entered the place of his childhood with

the toys of a man, his bow, quarterstaff and knife felt out of place here,

like they didn’t belong at this, his place of youth. But he sure did feel

welcome anyways, his mother and father welcomed him and battered every bit

of his life at the cottage and he in return asked all about the shop. It all

went smoothly from there. It seemed as if no time had passed at all, they

hadn’t even missed a beat.

 

And they lived happily for many a year until his mother passed from a

grave fever and his father from grief. Tyosh grieved his loss deeply but

kept his family tradition intact and ran the tavern. But he also hunted to

remember his good times at the cottage and wandered around herb shops

snooping around asking about prices and quizzing random shopkeepers to test

his knowledge. He lived in this manner until around the time he was at the

age of twenty-four.

 

There had been a terrible fire at the tavern; he knew exactly who it had

been. When he was growing up there had always been another tavern a little

ways from his own. It didn’t blossom and grow as well as his, not because it

didn’t have good service and wares but because Tyosh’s tavern had been there

first. And while Tyosh’s family lived well the opposing tavern strived to

survive. Eventually just like with Tyosh’s family the other tavern passed on

to a son. The son had always despised Tyosh and his tavern and some loose

tongues had revealed that he had been the one who supposedly started

spreading the bad word that lead to that hard situation when Tyosh was 15.

Tyosh knew the son, Rynk Cecon, he was a hateful person and Tyosh wouldn’t

put him above to do something a bit more drastic this time. He’d heard the

rumors of jealousy but he couldn’t believe Rynk would stoop that low. Maybe

a few critters in the ale, termites in the wood but to burn it down, Tyosh

never would have believed it so. Tyosh had no proof for any of this, nor did

he search for any he knew he wouldn’t find anything. But one day maybe he’d

get Rynk for some other heinous thing he’d done and make him pay for what

he’d done to him and everyone else he’d hamper just to get ahead. Tysho

promised it to himself.

 

He lost everything, most of his gold and clothing. He’d been able to save

some of the nicer ones; he’d also saved his hunting gear. But besides that

he only had his horse.

 

He decided to ask for some favors from close friends, which turned out

to be nothing but enemies. No one wanted to have anything to do with him, no

one would take him in, lend him enough. So he struck out for the only other

home he had ever known, the cottage. There he found his widowed aunt (his

uncle passed some time ago). She pained at the news and offered much

comfort. She tried to make him as comfortable as possible, but what he

really wanted was to be alone. He didn’t actually know why he came here

again. And as soon as his aunt fell asleep, he left again with the stealth

his uncle had taught him.

 

He slept under the stars that night and planned what he would do. And

then he realized there was really only one thing he could do. Live off the

land until he could get back on his feet, he knew he could get a pretty

penny for some herbs and furs. So herbs and hunting that would be his life

now. The land would practically give him everything he needed until he could

get his tavern back if he really did want it back. But for now… he didn’t

even have enough for a decent wagon to peddle his wares. So the next morning

he struck out for “softer†lands in Andor in search of an easier life, all

the while picking some honeyroses he could sell later on.

[Lavinya]

Looks good, CC'd

[Sirayn]

You never told me you could write, Zylazlo! I like it. :D

[Taei]

*bumps back in order*