Rodrik Whitehill Titles Heir of Highpoint Alias Rod Date Of Birth 76 AC Culture First Men Religion Faith of the Seven Physical Information Eye Color Emerald Hair Color Brown Build Lean Height Tall Relations Father Gryff Whitehill Mother Jenna Slate Siblings Gwyn Whitehill Shyra Whitehill Raya Whitehill Karl Whitehill META Player Username /u/CrazyBridgeBoi Name on Discord Crazymajor#0991 Auxiliary Character Gryff Whitehill Alternative Characters Raymund Tully

Rodrik Whitehill, born 76 AC, is the firstborn son of Lord Gryff Whitehill and Lady Jenna Slate, and the heir of Highpoint.

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Appearance and Character Edit

A true northerner through and through, Rodrik stood tall and broad-shouldered, with a lean, athletic physique that leaned itself to a proper warrior, and a warrior he was. Any that would look upon him would see a man who'd spent more than his fair share of time in sparing yard, gaining more scars in training than he's even gained in a proper battlefield.

His beard and hair would remain trimmed and well-kempt for the sake of his disciplinarian father. Though were it not for him, Rodrik would likely wear long mane which reached to his shoulders and a far thicker, scraggly beard.

The Whitehill heir was a man that embodied freedom and the wilds, preferring a night in the open air of the woods than the comforts of cold stone walls. And when faced with problems, he is more likely to retreat to the solitude and solace found on a hunt or stroll in the ironwood forests about Highpoint. Often doing such beside his closest of companions, his wolf, Jaws.

History Edit

A Simple Birth. A Simple Life. Edit

Rodrik came into the world, in 76 AC, with little fanfare. His birth would be an easy one without much struggle for his mother, who already had gone through another, far more difficult, one when it came to his eldest sister. Of course, much celebration would follow in the days after as the lord had finally been gifted his son and rightful heir by the seven.

The heir would, of course, be raised in the faith of the seven as most of House Whitehill has been for generations, and Rodrik would follow dutifully in his younger years. It was all he taught and all that was practiced around him, after all. Yet, as he grew older, and he ventured out further into the rest of the north, things would become far more complicated. He felt himself alone in his faith outside the walls and sept of Highpoint. While his family, and father especially, pressured him towards the seven, following in tradition and family, the rest of the kingdom would pressure him towards the Old Gods and the weirwood trees they worshiped.

One day, through the influences of friends, Rodrik would bring the Old Gods within the walls of Highpoint. Never had he known a greater mistake before that. His father would have no tree worshiper as his son. He would take a scolding and a beating for his transgressions, but ever since then did the boy always appear amongst the most faithful when with family. Though, it would remain secret how he would act when separated from them, even if he did truly believe the father was watching over him. Like any young boy wishing to fit in, Rodrik would readily integrate himself with the followers of the old gods, leaving him open to the faith, which he still found so strange, even as his family dragged him pack towards the seven.

When entering his teens, Rodrik would quickly end up taking to the sport of hunting, inspired by his uncle, Ebbert. Not long after, the woods around Highpoint became a special place for the boy. A place he felt free to do what he wished, say whatever burned inside him, finding solace away from his overbearing and sometimes cruel father. On the hunt is where he truly found peace. And in the end, he wasn't so bad a hunter either, bringing home pelts that would be fashioned into fine cloaks for his family.

A Discovery In The Woods Edit

On one fateful hunt, at the age of eighteen, Rodrik would come across a young shadowcat injured and trapped within a bear trap clamped around its hind leg. It's whining could be heard for leagues around. Yet, it was no less aggressive and fierce at the young man's approach, biting and snapping at him in between painful yelps. Rodrik could only imagine the shadowcat had an unfortunate encounter with a poacher, trying to hunt on his family's lands, or some other beast by the look of it. Regardless, it was quite the sight as shadowcats only came this south very rarely, usually keeping close to the wall. Yet, Highpoint was one of the more northern houses.

For reasons he didn't really understand, he felt pity for the beast, who would under any other circumstances, lash out at his throat. Perhaps, it was the endearing helpless state it was in, or its admirable fierceness despite the wound. Regardless, this was no proper kill for a hunt. So, stepping closer slowly, he would attempt to ease the shadowcat, calming it as he held his boar spear ready and out between them should the beast get the idea to launch at him once more. Though, it would soon enough allow his approach, knowing it had no choice

Speaking to it in soft tones all the while, Rodrik would eventually set its foot free of the trap. And at that second, there was a sudden moment of peace. As if he and beast had made some connection as both simply stared at the other, his face no more than a few feet away from the wild shadowcat. It had quieted then and, almost as if in thanks, dipped his heads before the moment was broken and the shadowcat was off, limping along and away to never be seen again.

That very night, Rodrik would dream. Dream about that shadowcat, being that shadowcat. Pain coursing through his body as he limped along the woods at night, low to the ground. When he awoke, the man would think nothing of it. It was only a dream, after all. Yet, it would not be the last. For months, the dreams would continue. Him low to the ground. The taste of raw flesh on his tongue. Even when he would awake, the after taste lingered.

Once more, near a year later, Rodrik would go on his usual hunt alone in the ironwoods. Yet, he would not find a stag this day, but yet a pack of wolves. However, these ones were far more violent and far less injured than the shadowcat which he remembered so fondly in his dreams. As the sun was falling, they had set themselves upon him, encircling the lone Whitehill.

But as if in an act of destiny, a familiar beast would find him. Rodrik could not forget the shadowcat he saved, and when he had seen him again, he knew immediately it was him even if the beast had grown in considerable size. Now, it was time for it to repay the favor, seemingly coming to Rodrik's defense as he growled at the three that looked upon him with a feasting gaze. The beast set itself between Rodrik and the wolves, and to his surprise, the other smaller three would seem to be warded off by their much larger, darker foe.

His new companion would end up escorting him on his journey back to Highpoint, like one would expect a guardsman to do. Yet, the beast would not journey beyond the forest, leaving Rodrik to the rest of his trip after a shared moment between man and beast. It was then that Rodrik would come to name the shadowcat Bones, wishing it would follow him the rest of the way but to no avail. Regardless, he was no longer oblivious to the connection he had. He knew there was something there, something he couldn't get rid of at the back of his mind. Something that reminded him of old stories he used to hear about gifted men and their beast companions.

Unlocking One's Potential Edit

Rodrik would never come to his father about what had happened, knowing he was likely only to get chastised rather than listened too, but he knew he would find a better ear in his uncle, Ebbert. Rodrik would regale the man with his story, and in return, his uncle would smile. It would seem his great grandfather seemed to have something similar when it came to the dreams, some sort of gift. A special connection with his hound. Some called him a warg. Others a madman who was just far too fond of his pet. Regardless, such traits had not been seen in any Whitehill in generations. Yet, it seemed fate would decide differently with Rodrik birth.

The dreams would continue in even greater strength, and Rodrik's journey into the woods would become more frequent. Always, he would be in search of Bones, but more often than not Bones would be the first to find him. Over time, the connection built and with it, their bond as the two, man and beast, would hunt as one. Until one day, Bones would finally follow him out of the woods and into Highpoint.

It would be a point of contention with his family, but eventually, things would settle in the keep as Rodrik was allowed his new pet. There was no more loyal a friend to Rodrik then Bones then as he took the beast wherever he went, to the surprise of many. Though, other creatures would join him. None as great as Bones, but Rodrik would end fond of a little bird, no bigger than his palm. that would visit his windowsill near every day, and through it, he would see the skies. It was certainly something he could have never imagined occurring, yet it had. He was blessed in some way, but why was a question that always lingered in his mind. Why him?

Recent Events Edit

At home...

Family Edit

Whitehill family tree.

Stats Edit

CHA MAR COM INT STE STA EDU MAG REP 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 2 0 0 10 0 0 0 4 5 0 0 0 10 0 0 0 4 5 2

Tough

Two Handed Weapons

Footwork

Skinchanging

Zoology

Berserker (Aptitude)

Skills: