Character: Stephen Poetr
Alignment: True Neutral
"Hurry brother, else we'll be late for the festival," Fianon hollered back to his older brother, Stephen. Shorter and smaller of the two, Fianon's six foot height was all lean muscle, Green eyes filled with a practical wisdom and good cheer rested atop a freckled face from a great deal of time outdoors. Most who had met his parents, Benjamin and Lee Poetr, would say he favored his mother. His favorite outfit, woodsman leathers complimented by a well used long bow and haversack attested to the many hours he had spent tracking the beasts of the surrounding forests near Hlint and Haven.
"I'm coming, Fianon," Stephen replied. Brown eyes flashed somewhat angrily as his solid footsteps plodded his considerable six foot one girth northward out of Wayfare, "I don't understand your hurry, and the Festival of Spring doesn't start for another day, what's the rush?" He asks in earnestness, "Daniel won't be in attendance you know, he's occupied with some investigation in Vehl."
"I know, Steph, but there's bound to be some pretty girls and maybe Melanna, I'd like to see her again, don't you?" Fianon quickened his pace, forcing his older brother to lift his wizard robes and match it.
Irritated at the quickened pace his brother sets, Stephen who was already short of breath, but faced with the irrepressible nature of his younger brother, grinned and broke into a trot to keep up, "No, not really Fianon, she hardly has time to visit us anyway, with all her work with Master Storold and the Reaching. But I do hope we'll make it time to get a room at the inn, I'm already hungry."
Fianon laughed, "Brother, you really need to travel more and eat less, maybe even let your nose escape those books you're always into!" Grinning he slows his pace to match Stephen's, the two falling into a rhythm that only comes from long accompaniment.
Stephen smiled and nodded gratefully at the slowing of pace. "Tell me, Fianon, has a particular lass struck your fancy or are you still searching the grove, as you put it?" he asked, thoughtful dark brown eyes, regarding his brother.
With a sigh, Fianon ran a hand through his reddish hair, "No, still searching, although there is this druid in Silkwood I wouldn't mind sharing a fire with. I suppose your only love is that spell book you carry, hmm?" He finishes with a teasing wink.
"Not exactly, brother," Stephen pats his ample belly. "As soon as I find a lass who can cook, I'll be settling down soon enough," he replies with a wink of his own. "Now, look sharp this trail is often beset with ogres."
Stephen: Portly, yet tall, this man is imposing at a six foot two height. Wizard's robes and a stout staff complete the picture of a person whose love of food is only surpassed by his inquisitive mind. His skin is lightly freckled and paler, obviously he has spent more time in lamplight than the sun. More sober in outlook than most, He regards you thoughtfully without saying much.