Tristan
Growing up, Tristan had 3 dreams. The first was to marry his childhood sweetheart, Ikkena; the
most beautiful girl in the village. The second was to become the village chief, like his father and
his father's father did. The last was a simple dream, but one that he had dreamed of since he
was child. He wanted to grow a garden in a forest on the mountain where his mother used to
play with him and tell him stories. Before she passed of sickness, this was a dream that she had
shared with him every time they visited that place.
Being the son of the village chief at the time, Tristan did not think his dreams were achievable,
he believed them to be inevitable. That is until one fateful midsummer day when his best friend
Storref had his coming of age. Storref was a poor, but well loved boy in the village. He was hard
working, handsome, and could draw the attention of everyone he met, and on the day of his
ceremony Storref asked for Ikenna's hand in marriage, and she had gladly accepted it.
Tristan was furious, filled with jealousy and feelings of betrayal, but he kept these emotions to
himself. He had never shared his dreams with Storref, despite them being friends. His father
had always taught him “keep your aspirations a secret, lest someone would try to steal them
away”. So when he witnessed the engagement of his best friend and the girl he loved, he
rationalized it as the unfortunate will of some bad luck. Storref was the light of the village,
handsome and well loved, for him and Ikkena to fall for each other was not too surprising.
Despite the feelings of betrayal, Tristan continued to be good friends with him.
Years later, Tristan ended up in an arranged marriage with another wealthy girl in the village,
and he had begun to make his plans for taking on the mantle as the village chief. The position of
chief was voted on by the village, however the title of chief had belonged to his family for
generations and he had no reason to believe that would change. At least that was until the day
of the vote, and he witnessed as everyone in the village turned their eyes to Storref. Rage rose
up into Tristan’s throat, but before he could say anything, he stormed away. Later that night he
was berated by his father for not trying hard enough to win over the people, instead choosing to
rely purely on his namesake to win their votes. As his father continued to admonish him, he
began to become more and more angry, not at himself or at his father, but at his friend. He
never told him his dream to become chief, but he knew that unlike him Storref was a
characteristically social individual. He could read the room and say whatever people needed to
hear the most, he could turn the eyes of anyone in the village, and most of all, he could often tell
how Tristan felt without him even saying a word. He remembered his fathers words,”keep your
aspirations a secret, lest someone would try to steal them away”. “Had Storref known that I
wanted to be chief, and moved to steal that position away from me?”, he thought to himself,
”What if it was the same when he took Ikkena away from me as well?”. He shook his head. It
could not be true, his friend would not do that to him. Not on purpose. Even so, these thoughts
never left his mind, and as the years went by, even though he told himself he didn’t truly believe
his friend would forsake his dreams, a part of him didn’t fully disbelieve it either.
Tristan held these feelings in heart for years, saying nothing of them, and while he could never
reach the title of chief, the namesake of his family and their wealth did land him in a position of
power. Tristan was in charge of the land near and including the forest and he and his mother
used to play. This was no coincidence, he still had one last dream left, and while before he had
rested on families’ name to achieve his dreams and lost them, this time he was going to do
everything in his power to keep his last dream from slipping from his fingers.
To grow a garden in a snowy mountain forest was no easy task. In such an unforgiving
environment he would need to gather the seeds from flowers that could bloom at high altitudes
and in the dire cold. After years of studying and gathering information he found, to his relief, this
was more than possible, but the cover from the forest trees would be absolutely vital for the
flowers to survive. Learning this Tristan immediately took steps to take ownership of the land.
Everything seemed to be going well, and Tristan was making plans on how to source the seeds
that he needed, but before he could take any action, the hand of fate turned to deny him.
On an especially cold winter, the village was hit with a blizzard longer and colder than they had
ever seen before. While, being a mountain village, they were prepared for cold winters and
blizzards, this blizzard had outlasted them. Their stores of firewood had begun to run out, and
as the villagers began to run out of heat, some began to get sick despite their natural resistance
to the cold, including Tristan. It was a strange sickness that seemed to pull him into states of
long, fevered sleep and short states of groggy wakefulness.
When he finally woke, his wife told him it had been 2 months since he had first been bedridden.
He sat up and felt the warmth of his fireplace. Near the fireplace was a huge stack of firewood,
tall enough to nearly reach the ceiling. He felt a knot form in his stomach. He asked his wife
where they got the firewood. She started to explain how Storref and a group of brave villagers
decided to go out into the storm and collect as much firewood as they could, but before she
could say anything else. Tristan bolted out of their house and towards the forest.
He didn’t need to go far. He could clearly see just from the doorway of his home, a field of
stumps where the forest he and his mother used to play in once stood. He dropped to his knees.
He felt empty, like all his feelings had left his body. This emptiness turned to a burning rage as
he saw Storref approach him. Storref began to ask him questions, like if he was okay or if he
needed help, but Tristan could not hear him. It was all he could do to contain the anger he felt in
his soul. In the end, he never said anything and his wife and Storref helped him back into his
home.
More years had passed, and he had yet to reveal his dreams or his anger to anyone, that was
until his son Forrik was born. Perhaps it was the gentle and innocent eyes of his son that
coaxed it out of him, or perhaps he just couldn’t contain his feelings any longer, but from a
young age, his son and him were alone, he would spill out everything to him, and the more time
passed, the more he shared his feeling unfiltered.
Because of this, Forrik grew with a secret, deep seeded hatred towards Storref and his family.
Species
Spouses
Siblings
Children
Gender
Man
Eyes
Red
Hair
bald
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
pale
Height
7'11"
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