Reluctant Heroes

oh give me your strength => Directory => Garrison => Topic started by: Farran Falkenrath on March 03, 2018, 01:27:33 PM

Title: Farran Falkenrath
Post by: Farran Falkenrath on March 03, 2018, 01:27:33 PM


NAME:  Farran Falkenrath
NICKNAMES (IF ANY):  Give him some!
DATE OF BIRTH AND AGE (AS OF YEAR 845):  18th of February, Year 811 (34 years old)
PLACE OF BIRTH:  Shiganshina District, Wall Rose
FACE CLAIM:  Raye Penber from Death Note


When I look in the mirror these days, I scarcely recognise myself.  My hair is still black as night, though the odd strand of silver is beginning to shine through the darkness.  Grey eyes once keen and bright have now seen too much; their shade is stormy, melancholic, grim.  Then there are the wrinkles beginning to make themselves known.  I must have been happy once - joyful, even - for the creases that linger in the corners of my eyes tell me so.  It’s difficult to recall those days now.

Shiganshina was my birthplace and my home for many years.  As a boy, when sunlight seemed all the brighter, and hope flowed like blood through my veins, I spent long days racing through the cobblestone streets - sometimes with my sister and brother, sometimes without - and often rolled up my breeches to paddle in the slow-moving river that cut a thick swath through the district.  The latter was much to my mother’s horror, for the waters were filthy, but I was a stubborn child, and I have since grown into a stubborn man.  Apparently it’s a Falkenrath trait; that ability to stand rooted in place and refuse to be moved.

Thinking back to happier times, I remember the warm, homely smell of freshly baked bread.  How it lingered on my clothes and clung to my hair.  Mother’s aprons were painted with streaks of flour; Father wore the sigil of roses with unshakeable pride; Granda’s presence was always heralded by a metallic, smoky scent.  Perhaps, in another life, I might have followed in my grandfather’s footsteps and become a locksmith.  Long hours I spent perched obediently on a chair in the corner of his workshop, watching wide-eyed as gears, pegs, bolts and springs were combined to form some of the most complex and beautiful mechanisms you could imagine.  I quietly revelled in the clink clink clink of tools, in the heat from the furnace, in the forging of keys.  There was a wonderful sense of safety in that often oppressively hot room - security at the craft’s very core - and I came to stand pridefully at that same bench, shoulder to shoulder with my forefather.

But it was only for a short while.  Instead of mastering the art of protecting homes and property, I pledged myself to a greater task.  After several years of dithering, at the age of fourteen, I enlisted with the Training Corps.  Ultimately, I followed my father’s footsteps, but I brought with me my fascination for engineering and all I had learned in Granda’s forge. 

My elder sister had blazed the trail ahead of me, and was already serving with the Garrison Regiment when I first bore the emblem of crossed swords.  Meanwhile my brother, younger than I, apprenticed with our mother.  His baking was exquisite and, while I may be biased, I still maintain that a slice of honey wheat loaf made by his hand, lightly buttered, is the most delicious thing I have ever tasted.  Later, after Silke Schneider claimed his heart, he took his talent to Trost District.  Later still, Axel, my one and only nephew, was born.  All raven hair, steely eyes and unshakably dutiful, the boy displays many of the Falkenrath traits - but I must also give Silke her dues for her role in raising him.

Admittedly, I have been less lucky in love than Tybalt.  A few short years into my service, when I was young enough to be reckless but old enough to know better, I courted a laundress.  In hindsight, we ought to have taken more precautions.  When she grew soft with child, there was no question that we would wed - and quickly.  The arrangements were made, the rings forged, the date set.  But then came the blood, swiftly followed by tears and dismay.  I couldn’t make her believe me, when I said I still wanted to marry her, that the unborn child had only spurred me into actions that were inevitable.  The louder I spoke, the more immune to my words she became.  We fell out of step and soon after parted ways.  The ceremony was cancelled, the rings melted down, the flowers earmarked for picking left to wither in the ground.

If only that was my greatest suffering in life.

Stationed in Utopia District, I was within the realms of safety the day Wall Maria fell, and when word of the catastrophe reached our ears, my squad were charged with guiding refugees through the gate.  My sister and father, both posted in Shiganshina, were not so fortunate.  My ailing mother could not have hoped to escape and my kind-hearted brother, who was visiting her, was doomed by his own sense of duty.  One sunny afternoon, the Falkenrath family was unexpectedly decimated.  I count it one of my greatest blessings that Silke and Axel didn’t choose to travel with Tybalt to Shiganshina, that they were spared this unspeakable fate.

Laughter lines and a handful of loved ones are all I have left.  Tell a lie, I still have my duty to the Garrison.  To humanity.  And somewhere, beneath the heartache, there is still hope; I see it in the determined faces of our cadets, in the hard work of good men and women, and in the swell of my newly-wed wife’s belly.


AGE:  Still 28, just about!

Title: Re: Farran Falkenrath
Post by: Webs on March 15, 2018, 01:01:20 AM