Post by lavulpe on Nov 10, 2015 19:30:11 GMT -5
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Born in the North Eastern regions of Cymru, Llywelyn was the third son of his father Maelwys and his mother Terrwyn, a pair of Celtic Britons who lived beside the forests of the region. Since his birth Llywelyn was surrounded by nature, and as such was surrounded by the Spirits and the Gods that tended to it. Being raised in this constantly growing and changing world delighted him, as each year the earth and woods changed and grew with him, the branches of the trees always staying out of his reach no matter how much height he gained, and the stones staying eternal in their locations despite his best efforts to move them. This land brought him his food in the form of berries and mushrooms, as well as the meat his parents brought home from their hunting trips into the deeper parts of the forest. In his younger years his mother and father would leave him and his four siblings with his grandparents for weeks, leaving the young boy befuddled as his parents painted each other blue in amazing patterns before disappearing into the woods for weeks or even months at a time with his two older brothers, only to return with coins and jewelry, as well as weapons and slaves. It was in his young teens that his father truly prepared him to follow in their steps, teaching him the ways of combat and how to stand fearlessly before a threat without anything but a sword or spear. The young Celt absorbed these lessons and took them with him when it was his own time to venture into the woods for food, hunting down deer and wild boar with little more than a bow, a sling, and a cruachan knife. It was from these expeditions, facing down charging boar without giving ground, that Llywelyn steeled himself for what he knew would be his destiny in the fields and forests of the East. It is from these woods that he made is first longbow, five foot tall for his young height, with a reasonable draw. It is with this that he practiced every day, bent on becoming a marksman of a caliber not even his brothers or father could match.
When he came of age to finally assist his parents their journeys, Llywelyn proudly strode off with them covered in woad, his red hair spiked up and partially dyed white with lime, making him instantly distinguishable at a distance by his kin. Taking his longbow and a spear, the young man followed his kin until they joined up with other Celtic clans, heading east to battle a group of Angle clans who had been accused of stealing from a herd of cattle, and responded by killing the herdsman. As the groups clashed in the rolling grassy fields, the Celtic warriors charged into battle lightly armed and covered in paint, screaming and roaring as they clashed with their foes. Meanwhile, Maelwys led his family around the flank through the woods, coming out of the trees to fire arrows into the sides of the Angle force. A small group from the Angle force quickly broke off and charged towards the trees to deal with the archers, which led to the family running back into the woods. In a practiced manner, the family split off and hid behind trees with the exception Terrwyn, who ran for a little ahead of the rest before tossing her bow aside and drawing an axe, screaming her challenge at the approaching Angles. As they charged towards her, her husband and children stood, now behind the Angles, firing a barrage of arrows before charging into their backs with spears and axes. The half dozen remaining men were surrounded before they could react, and Maelwys had impaled another on his sword before they started to fight back.
Llywelyn found himself against a man of average stature, wearing a mail tunic and helm to protect him in case his large shield and sword could not. Llywelyn could not help but notice the gold warrior bracelets on the man's arms, and made sure to use his spear to keep his distance as best he could. The man quickly closed in with the younger smaller boy, the experienced warrior blocking his spear and knocking it aside with the shield. Llywelyn quickly dropped his spear and lunged for the opening, driving himself into the man's gut and pushing up, knocking him off his feet and sending them both to the ground. The warrior tossed his sword out of reach and an odd fistfight started on the ground, the warrior throwing punches with his free hand into Llywelyn's head and ribs while the young man jabbed at the man's face with both fists, all the while trying to avoiding shattering his knuckles on the helmet. After about a minute of this both of them had grown tired, the warrior out of breath from being sat upon and punching with one hand, and Llywelyn sore from his left side being pummeled by the strong soldier. Collapsing on top of the armored man, Llywelyn panted heavily as he looked to his right, seeing his father and one of his brothers finish off one of the Angles. From the left he could hear his mother's tired panting, as well as groans of pain from his other brother. His shaking arms pushed him up as he sat on the chest of the warrior, who was also taking the moment of peace to breath and spit the blood from his mouth. For a moment the two just stared at each other, the boy had no power left and the man could probably fight him off, but his family would soon be by his side. Instead the young man rolled off the man, sitting and breathing heavily as the soldier sat up, looking around to survey the scene. Three of the other Angles were still alive, two clutching arrow wounds, and another holding his head, blood running down one side from the club of one of the brothers. The brother who had clubbed him was sitting against a tree, clutching a gash in his arm from the man's knife. The veteran slowly pushed himself to his feet, stumbling over to his sword and picking it off the ground, grunting as he bent over to get it. To Llywelyn's surprise the man sheathed his blade, nodding to the young boy as he moved over to one of his wounded kin. The two groups sat in an uneasy silence with the exception of the grunts and moans from those being treated by the others. The Maelwys family eventually gathered their bows and slung them over their shoulders, limping and helping each other from the scene. As they walked by, the warrior stood and approached Llywelyn. To his amazement, the man took a bracelet from one of his wrists, handing it to the boy with a stern face. The two nodded to each other in understanding, and the Celts returned to their camp. The army in the fields had not done as well, and had been pushed back by the Angle force. The wounded and dead of the Celtic group were being gathered and treated, and the Maelwys family returned home, no loot or dead to carry except for the gold bracelet.
The young boy was shaped by this encounter, seeing the balance in the events. Neither him nor his opponent had killed the other, even though both had been given a chance. He took this as a sign of something greater and convinced his parents to let him travel to the seers and druids of their people to learn the meaning of it, and master the art of reading these signs. Selling the warrior's bracelet to a merchant in a nearby town, the young man traveled to shrines and monuments built by his ancestors, putting himself under the teachings of the prophets and priests that protected them. Years of slow teachings and practice took hold of Llywelyn, seeing another world inside of the one he lived in. He now understood the spirits of the forests and the Gods, knowing how and why they accomplished what they did in this world. He learned how to properly give sacrifice to them in thanks for what they had done for him, and how to put their symbols into stone, wood, and paint. This enlightenment brought new meaning to his life, and he traveled home once more, seeing it for the first time in a decade. He was no longer a boy, he had grown to his full size and the large Cymri was nothing like the fiery boy of his youth. His siblings had grown as well and left for their own homes, and his parents tended to their gardens and the forest. No longer did they run to battle, they had settled down into a more peaceful life, with Llywelyn's sisters helping them with tasks. Llywelyn saw he was not needed here, and saying goodbye to his family once more, he set off through the woods into the North East.
For years the man traveled, studying the land and thanking the spirits for his fortunes as he wandered the realm. Every now and again he would find himself near a town, and would stay for a short time nearby, trading furs and meat in exchange for woolen cloths and other supplies. As he stopped he would teach and assist the villages with their worship, though over the years he noticed more and more worshipping a different god, one who was supposed to be perfect in every way. These people confused him, especially their priests, who spouted words like a fountain, and did nothing to show their god their thanks except kneeling and talking to themselves. Over time he came to despise these "Christians", not for their rejection of the Spirits, but for their swears that he would be punished forever for his lack of faith in their god. One town had prompted him to make a new longbow, a full six and a half feet. The large bow was put to use as he left the region after a few months, after knocking a monk out of the tower of his church from across the town.
In his travels Llywelyn encountered multiple battles or groups gathering to prepare for them. In these events he would side with any Celts or Picts he could find, the large man painting them in woad and rallying them for battle. The conflicts were marked with him staying among those he led, firing arrows into the enemy line as the approached, then drawing a bone handled knife for the charge, the massive painted man leading his kin into the brawl. Over years he gained followers, men who wished to follow their gods in the way they were supposed to, living in nature and thanking it for all it had done for them. These Polythiestic Celts lived happily in the forests, traveling from place to place to find kin, or harass Christians. After many years of this, Llywelyn encountered a vision, a land split into the Arwen symbol, the symbol he had taken for his own. The vision showed Hadrian's wall, and two cities on either side. Llywelyn gathered his kin and wet out for his new home, the now old Celt ready to settle down, as much as he can that is.
