Erembourc "Burr" Droot

Erembourc "Burr" Droot (a.k.a. Stormy)

Erembourc Drot, "Burr" to his friends, was a Firbolg in all the ways that mattered: friendly, personable, and all-together nice. But he was also clean-shaven, more excitable and bright-eyed than any calm, self-respecting Firbolg had a right to be. Though, the villagers amusedly said it was because his mother had the no good sense to go out stormchasing with him in her belly. Just a tad storm-touched that one with all his moods.

Physical Description

General Physical Condition

Despite being a normal height for a Firbolg, Eerembourc leads towards the more lean side than his more robust counterparts. Lean muscle with lingering fat from his youth, he cuts an nonthreatening air.

Facial Features

Light, purple freckles are sprinkled along the bridge of his nose and below his eyes. His face is a bit long and angular with high cheekbones, almost aristocratic, if the aristocrat had the flat tubular cow-like nose all Firbolg did.

Identifying Characteristics

Bright, jade eyes and light-purple freckles.

Special abilities

Can talk to animals and plants, though it's their decision whether to talk back to him (though, he does not verbally understand them and has to grasp at their meaning). He can also detect magic, disguise himself, turn invisible, and enlarge himself, the last one courtesy of some friendly Cloud giants.

Apparel & Accessories

He wears a white kosovortka with red and blue embroidery underneath a brown ruffled, feathered barn coat/short-trench coat. A leather belt, what another world might consider close to nordic, with tassels and other bits and bobs adorns his waist. For his bottom he wears multi-pocketed and fitted red cloth jeans. Black strapped boots, hardy and conditioned for any circumstance, adorn his feet. A light, mint bandolier mask is tied along his neck, ready for whenever he needs it.

Mental characteristics

Personal history

Peaceful, the epitome of Lommeville. Peaceful, the smiling people of the town. Peaceful, the echoing brays and cries of various farm animals. And peaceful was something Erembourc both loved and wanted to get away from in equal measure.
The song of the storms that swept their way around their peaceful village cried out to him as strongly as they did his mother. His mother who had disappeared to that same lively melody. The villagers mused he inherited it from her and her decision to chase those errant storms while he still rested within her belly. And it was likely the latter reason that made him so strangely restless.
Though they tried to nurture that spirit of his as well as they could, however strange, Erembourc could never truly settle down; could never truly be as calm as calm could be, always chasing those errant notes that lured him from one minor adventure to another. Whether that adventure meant tipping the cows or poking a stick through a hole in the plains he had no business to, it would seem great at the time, until that cow decided to chase him or that hole held a dangerous beast that almost mauled him. And, yet, he would always come back, though perhaps with more caution than before.
Though, those were never quite well enough to truly quiet the urge to follow in his mother's footsteps and chase those storms. Oh, he tried with books and other tales and all sorts of mischief, but he would always come back to the stories of not only his mother's adventures as told by his father and fellow villagers but also of those nebulous others, strangers who did not stick to staying in a peaceful village. And, so, that yearning grew. That and his curiosity as to what caused his mother's disappearance. What about the mana storms would cause her to disappear? And what caused such wild beauty?
Of course, one can't find answers without looking for them and to find out such a dangerous thing meant being prepared. So, through the teachings of his reluctant father and those who could teach him, he learned his way around weapons and how to defend himself. He learned how to survive off the land and the ebbs and flow of mana. But, before he was deemed ready, Erembourc decided to have his first "real adventure" out and far away from his village. Out of sight of his father and minders, for though they meant well, their oversight was causing him to feel stifled. So, bringing along a reluctant but also eager friend, Erembourc snuck out of the village with all that he thought he needed and all that he thought he knew.
It was strange, fearful, but it was also exhilarating. He was out of the village proper, away from all that he knew and with a friend by his side. He felt almost invincible, almost experienced, as the days went by and their "adventure" went without a hitch.
And, soon, they met with other people on their travels, other people who were un-similar to them and those who were like-minded people. It was fascinating learning second-hand the cultures of others, through the mouths of non-Firbolgs. It was great finding new people to travel with, if only briefly, before parting. It was even better when one of the peoples they met were a group of stormchasers themselves!
Finally, here was not only someone he could learn more from but also experience the thrill of the chase with! And their time together was great, in his eyes. And it seemed that everything could only go up from there.
And, then, disaster struck.
Mana winds are unpredictable, their currents sometimes ebbing and flowing in a gentle manner. But that does not mean that they cannot change on a dime. They are fickle things, their nature still not fully understood and Erembourc, for all he had been taught, had woefully forgotten -- or, perhaps, had chosen to forget. Until, he was harshly reminded.
He, his friend, and the other two were documenting the trails of mana and the ways in which they were gently undulating, talking amongst themselves. It seemed so peaceful that day. Perhaps if they had noted the strange silence for more than what it was. Perhaps if they had noticed the unusual stillness to the air or the voided presence, the strange emptiness. If they had noticed, would they have been prepared for the crack of thunder without the lightning and the sudden warping of the air?
Erembourc would say no. It was too fast, too sudden. How was he to know, how were any of them to know how topsy-turvy the world would turn from one second to the other. He certainly doesn't remember what exactly occured, only the screaming and the horrible, horrible feeling of not-existing before suddenly he was there. There being not here. And here being where he had been. That is to say, he had been placed from location to another. And, then, he went unconscious.
He would later wake to the sight of Cloud giants. Literal giants -- the ones from storybooks and the village speaker. He hadn't freaked out per se but had definitely been quite wary and cautious of them until they had shown themselves to be friendly. They had found him, awake but unaware and quite discombobulated. They had kept him for a few days and nursed him, until he returned to himself.
Though very, very confused at his situation, not yet remembering what had not occurred at the place he had been and was not currently, Erembourc thanked them for their hospitality and was quick to curiosity. The giants were all to happy to let him stay a little longer to get him back completely on his feet, when learning of his amnesia, and indulged his lively questions. So, he stayed a few days more until his sort-of-memories returned to him. He remembered the Before and, of course, the After but he did not remember the Event. It was all rather jumbled up in his memory. Considering it to be the work of the mana storm he had likely been in and finding no outwardly traces of its effects, the giants deemed him well enough to leave and let him go with a parting gift: the ability to enlarge himself at will.
Rather than be dissuaded, the storm had invigorated and increased his burning curiosity towards the mana storms and his sense of adventure. So, rather than head back towards his village like any self-respecting Firbolg would do, Erembourc turned his feet back towards finding out what happened to him, where his friend and compatriots went, and wondered if this too had happened to his mother -- was she also somewhere else?

Gender Identity

Firmly he/him.

Social

Contacts & Relations

Mereba, his mother and co-conspirator in much of his mischief before disappearing, was a lively woman for a Firbolg. Stars danced behind her eyes and she seemed to always dance when she moved. A passionate woman (a berserker of the barbarian fold), she fiercely loved both her husband and village. And though her husband worried constantly, being a bit of a fussy body, that never stopped her from going out into storms. So, it was largely unsurprising when she disappeared one day, leaving behind a devastated husband and village.

Unassuming, fast-talking, and reckless youth

Current Location

Blossoming Fields

View Character Profile

Alignment

Neutral Evil

Age

39

Birthplace

Blossoming Fields

Current Residence

Blossoming Fields

Gender

Male

Eyes

Blue

Hair

Brown, russet

Skin Tone/Pigmentation

A soft, pastel rosy color

Height

7'4"

Weight

269