Bezza Kullgar
Appearance
"He's yours?" The comment warbled out of a local patron, overhearing a conversation between the blacksmith's wife and another customer. The man was in disbelief, wondering how a human could be related to a dwarf at all.
Bezza busied himself in the shoppe by assisting an older gentleman, showing them his adopted father's wares and answering his questions. He was a strapping young man, maturity radiating through his words and his manner. He was a calm and collected sort, and his physique suggested he earned his keep through hard labor. Muddy brown bangs swept and dangled over a crisp, golden gaze. Perhaps the most striking thing about him were his eyes: sharp, full of clarity, and bright with anticipation. Reactive, but not jumpy. Bezza donned smithing garb, like his adopted father, and adjusted the soot-smeared apron as he conversed with the old man.
A proud smile warmed the features of the redheaded dwarf, and he responded thusly, "That's right. That's my boy."
Bezza busied himself in the shoppe by assisting an older gentleman, showing them his adopted father's wares and answering his questions. He was a strapping young man, maturity radiating through his words and his manner. He was a calm and collected sort, and his physique suggested he earned his keep through hard labor. Muddy brown bangs swept and dangled over a crisp, golden gaze. Perhaps the most striking thing about him were his eyes: sharp, full of clarity, and bright with anticipation. Reactive, but not jumpy. Bezza donned smithing garb, like his adopted father, and adjusted the soot-smeared apron as he conversed with the old man.
A proud smile warmed the features of the redheaded dwarf, and he responded thusly, "That's right. That's my boy."
Skills and Abilities
"Slow down, chap. Ya not lookin' for the opportunity." The mentor's lax and slurring voice infuriated his apprentice. Bezza barely held back his rage. Why, and how, was a blind man making a complete fool of him?
"I should have a handle on these sorts of things. I should know better!" Bezza protested.
"Boy, yer only fifteen," his mentor reminded him. The rebuttal did not satiate his impatient student. An aging creak and groan sounded from the blind tutor, adjusting his seat on the tree stump before continuing. "I won't say others are better or worse than you. What ya need t' keep in mind is what yer ignoring. You've got the heightened senses, boy! Use 'em!"
A flicker of motion and Bezza's body jumped backwards. His mentor's wooden cane struck the ground where he stood seconds prior. A healthy rush of blood surged through the boy! In the sweep of adrenaline Bezza's hairs stood on end. He honed his hearing and dulled out the background, ears turning red as tomatoes. As his heel dug into the dirt, anticipation slowed time enough to see his mentor's next move. The blind man's cane snapped up from the ground. CLACK-! The cane found the cross guard of Bezza's training rapier, a choppy grating of lacquer on metal.
Wiley Deveraux, whom would never see the battlefield again, retained an age of great wisdom and strength. An age lacking frailty but owning experience. A great age for mentorship. Bezza's adopted father thought it fit to train his son in the ways of self-defense, as the dwarf did not condone intentional violence. Bezza, never backing down from a challenge or an adventure, agreed to see the mentorship through.
A sharp cut from red to black. Bezza's ears deafened as he swapped and honed a different sense. His skin gained a rosiness. The micro-textures lost to the average man tingled awake in the Thagretin's mind. He felt his grip on the rapier harden as he deflected his mentor's cane away. Wiley rushed past him, rounding and balancing himself as he sensed Bezza's second foot collide with the earth. A chill shivered up the thirteen-year old's spine, preparing himself for another attack. A wide grin split Devereaux's lips apart.
"Don't forget ya sight, smell, and taste, too. Right, chap?"
Bezza took a deep, trained breath as his blackened ears slowly faded back to normal, and he firmed up his stance. "Right!"
"I should have a handle on these sorts of things. I should know better!" Bezza protested.
"Boy, yer only fifteen," his mentor reminded him. The rebuttal did not satiate his impatient student. An aging creak and groan sounded from the blind tutor, adjusting his seat on the tree stump before continuing. "I won't say others are better or worse than you. What ya need t' keep in mind is what yer ignoring. You've got the heightened senses, boy! Use 'em!"
A flicker of motion and Bezza's body jumped backwards. His mentor's wooden cane struck the ground where he stood seconds prior. A healthy rush of blood surged through the boy! In the sweep of adrenaline Bezza's hairs stood on end. He honed his hearing and dulled out the background, ears turning red as tomatoes. As his heel dug into the dirt, anticipation slowed time enough to see his mentor's next move. The blind man's cane snapped up from the ground. CLACK-! The cane found the cross guard of Bezza's training rapier, a choppy grating of lacquer on metal.
Wiley Deveraux, whom would never see the battlefield again, retained an age of great wisdom and strength. An age lacking frailty but owning experience. A great age for mentorship. Bezza's adopted father thought it fit to train his son in the ways of self-defense, as the dwarf did not condone intentional violence. Bezza, never backing down from a challenge or an adventure, agreed to see the mentorship through.
A sharp cut from red to black. Bezza's ears deafened as he swapped and honed a different sense. His skin gained a rosiness. The micro-textures lost to the average man tingled awake in the Thagretin's mind. He felt his grip on the rapier harden as he deflected his mentor's cane away. Wiley rushed past him, rounding and balancing himself as he sensed Bezza's second foot collide with the earth. A chill shivered up the thirteen-year old's spine, preparing himself for another attack. A wide grin split Devereaux's lips apart.
"Don't forget ya sight, smell, and taste, too. Right, chap?"
Bezza took a deep, trained breath as his blackened ears slowly faded back to normal, and he firmed up his stance. "Right!"
Personality
"So, he really is your brother?"
The auburn-haired dwarf followed his friend's gaze to stare at a tall brunet. This same teenager felt eyes on his back, turning and inflicting an intense glare. He loathed when people stared him down, and he interpreted the other man's gaze in a negative light. The sudden reaction averted the speaker's eyes, and Bezza turned back to what he was doing. There was no malice against the adopted brother. He'd long since held a thousand-yard stare. Bezza knew he was not looking at him, simply beyond him.
"If I may be so bold, Romus: he doesn't seem the friendly type." By this point in their conversation, Romus returned to reality.
"Oh, Bezza? He's well enough. Just a bit paranoid of people is all." Romus was known for speaking openly, whereas his brothers were the opposite. His friend carried the subject along.
"What was it like, growing up with a human in a dwarven household?"
"Oh, it was wildly entertaining!" Romus scratched his spotty beard eagerly, as if he'd waited to tell these tales. "He'd have to bend slightly to walk through door frames. He never looked right sitting at the dinner table, either. The funniest was when he started growing taller than the rest of us! Thought himself cursed, he did! Even cried about it to mum one time. It was hilarious. 'Course, he got used to it after a while.
"He's an interesting one, I'll say. A quiet, observational sort. He'll talk to you, but only once he gets to know you. Oh, and he takes things very seriously. I'd wager there isn't a drop of comedy in his blood. He sees things too literally; doesn't really know how to take in a moment for what it is. Always has to be doing something, or going somewhere."
The bustling laughter died down when a chill swept over the dwarf's wide shoulders. Romus turned around to lock eyes with Bezza, whom bristled with embarrassment. Rather than apologize for his behavior, the auburn-haired man laughed off the awkward moment. The strange strength in the teenager's poise unnerved Romus' friend.
"H-hey, Bez! Find what you and Eckhardt were looking for?"
"No. We didn't."
"Well, then, we're off to the next shop." Romus jovially patted some dust off his brother's shoulder, who snapped away from him. The young dwarf waved a mock salute to his brief encounter, whom happened to be the shopkeep's son. The man waved goodbye sheepishly, staring in awe as the teenage dwarves and human left the store and continued on their way.
The auburn-haired dwarf followed his friend's gaze to stare at a tall brunet. This same teenager felt eyes on his back, turning and inflicting an intense glare. He loathed when people stared him down, and he interpreted the other man's gaze in a negative light. The sudden reaction averted the speaker's eyes, and Bezza turned back to what he was doing. There was no malice against the adopted brother. He'd long since held a thousand-yard stare. Bezza knew he was not looking at him, simply beyond him.
"If I may be so bold, Romus: he doesn't seem the friendly type." By this point in their conversation, Romus returned to reality.
"Oh, Bezza? He's well enough. Just a bit paranoid of people is all." Romus was known for speaking openly, whereas his brothers were the opposite. His friend carried the subject along.
"What was it like, growing up with a human in a dwarven household?"
"Oh, it was wildly entertaining!" Romus scratched his spotty beard eagerly, as if he'd waited to tell these tales. "He'd have to bend slightly to walk through door frames. He never looked right sitting at the dinner table, either. The funniest was when he started growing taller than the rest of us! Thought himself cursed, he did! Even cried about it to mum one time. It was hilarious. 'Course, he got used to it after a while.
"He's an interesting one, I'll say. A quiet, observational sort. He'll talk to you, but only once he gets to know you. Oh, and he takes things very seriously. I'd wager there isn't a drop of comedy in his blood. He sees things too literally; doesn't really know how to take in a moment for what it is. Always has to be doing something, or going somewhere."
The bustling laughter died down when a chill swept over the dwarf's wide shoulders. Romus turned around to lock eyes with Bezza, whom bristled with embarrassment. Rather than apologize for his behavior, the auburn-haired man laughed off the awkward moment. The strange strength in the teenager's poise unnerved Romus' friend.
"H-hey, Bez! Find what you and Eckhardt were looking for?"
"No. We didn't."
"Well, then, we're off to the next shop." Romus jovially patted some dust off his brother's shoulder, who snapped away from him. The young dwarf waved a mock salute to his brief encounter, whom happened to be the shopkeep's son. The man waved goodbye sheepishly, staring in awe as the teenage dwarves and human left the store and continued on their way.