Standing at an impressive 18 hands and with a pelt rippling with working muscle, Gareth could seem intimidating to those who don’t know him. His coat is a predominantly chocolate dapple with a splash of white from his nares to the crest of his neck, as well as an asymmetrical sock on his left side. His face is kind and easily drawn into a smile, his Roman profile crinkling a bit at the nostrils and the corners of his eyes when he does so. The bright colour of his face is broken up with the same warm earthy hues as the rest of his pelt, as if someone had asked him to cover his eyes and splashed him with cream. The infinite pools of his eyes are a swirl of honey amber, flecks of dark brown and bright gold providing those that can hold his gaze something to look at for hours. His mane and tail are a swirl of the same ivory and earthen tones, carefully twisted and cultivated into thick locks. These he curls into buns of varying sizes and neatness upon the ridge of his neck tied in place with leather cords. His tail is in a similar state, though the locks are quite a bit more substantial and shorter; aside from a thick tie at the base to keep them neat they are left to float freely. His thick cannons have mild feathering around his light-toned daggers. These are prone to picking up the various gifts of the earth and he is often seen with a collection of leaves, moss or other small debris. Around his neck is a slender gold chain that leads to a gold vial. It looks to be kept in neat order, and while it does not shine brightly, it does not show the signs of tarnish, either. A scrap bit of scarlet cloth is tied around his left forearm. While this cloth has certainly seen plenty of use, it is by no means ragged or filthy and is clearly maintained on at least a semi-regular basis. If one were to get close enough they would be able to tell that it carries a melody of scents, and if you ask he will tell you it is a combination of oils and incenses that change according to no apparent purpose. The only other thing of note that he carries is a worn leather harness with two bags attached. The first is loose with a pull string tie for gathering raw materials, situated on his right side, this bag also contains various scrap cloth for keeping his collections mildly separated. The second is a more structured piece, though clearly patched and resewn through many years of wear, this one is larger and rests to his left side, a rudimentary bone clasp keeps it shut. The inside is segmented into three spaces, one for vials, one for powders, and another with rudimentary tools, such as a mortar and pestle, a small stone blade and a basic sewing kit. Gareth is quite aware of his size, and so is often seen to keep his head low and his neck arched, his posture relaxed so as to try to make those around him more comfortable. His tongue is rich with a deep toned mountain accent as if he was born from the earth herself.

Compassionate | Easy-going | Archaic | Loyal | Private | Conflicted | Jaded | Pertinacious | Protective | Attentive



Raised in a small herd in the Arma Mountains, Gareth considers himself a bit old fashioned. He values tradition and the folklore and culture that relates to his small corner of the world. While he never particularly knew his parents, his grandmother raised him with a distinct love for the world around him and paying attention to the whisper of the trees. He holds a deep appreciation for the wisdom of those older than he and likes to take the time to do things the old, tried and true ways. If it aint broke, no need to fix it. It’s not to say that you can’t change his mind on some things, but you’re in for the long run if you try. Gareth believes in gentleness, and would rather give you the carrot than even hold the stick, but he’s been known a time or two to get a very , very big stick. He’s a people-pleaser, and while he is charismatic in his own way, he does not readily share with others. He’s very practiced in the art of using a whole lot of words to say a whole lot of nothing and make you grateful for it. It’s come in handy a time or two when his particular skill set has led him towards dealings with more unsavory individuals. He’s a man of his word, though sometimes he’ll craft little loopholes to protect himself and those he loves. He may sell you a poison if you ask, but he’ll have the antidote tucked away should the target come and ask for a cure. He believes the souls of this earth are born a clean slate, with no motives, no rhyme or reason, and we make our own. Those he considers family are few and far between, but if you happen to fall into this category, you have a protector for life. He prides himself on his ability to read people and provide for them what they need. He’s seen some hardships in his life that shape his personal relationship with the world around him, but he’d never tell you that. Trustworthy, kind, accommodating, these are all the things he wants you to think of when you see him, and he works hard to make sure it’s that way. It’s much easier to fly under the radar when those around you wouldn’t ever consider you a threat. Inside he struggles with his personal demons, as does anyone who lives long enough to truly experience life. He holds regrets, and anger and a deep sorrow for the people he has lost, and this has led him to guard his heart very carefully.

Gareth was born at the end of winter to a small herd within the Arma Mountains. What happened to his birth parents he doesn’t know, and has never held any curiosity for the answer. Raised primarily by his grandmother, he was content. Their band was incredibly tight-knit, with their strange customs and isolation from most of the rest of the world, they have a ride or die bond. Wary of outsiders, they traveled seldom to the populated areas of Denocite, only to peddle wares, tell fortunes and share their archaic knowledge as it was needed. Self sufficient were these people, relying on themselves for most things and trusting few others to provide that which they could not.

Gareth spent a majority of his childhood learning old herbalism from his grandmother, secrets of remedies, poisons and magical properties were gifted to him. He has a minor talent in reading tea leaves, though it is something he hardly does in his adult life. His childhood friend, Salome was the true diviner. Though he was only a few months older than she, he deemed himself her protector from the harshness of the mountains they lived in. He dared not smother her with his chivalry, but he always kept his eye on her, determined to make sure that no harm came to her. Her bright personality and aptitude for the old traditions filled him with joy. More than anything he enjoyed spending time watching her cultivate her talents, content to see her grow more confident with each passing day.

Their herd rarely had young families, so there were only a handful of children at any given time. Gareth loved and appreciated all of them mostly at a distance, except for Salome. He only grew closer to her, bringing her with him when he would hunt for medicines that would only show themselves at night. She was the soul that he shared his most secret place- a meadow deep in the mountains with a small waterfall, a warm cave hidden behind the trickle of water. This young filly was there with him the night he found the strange and ailed elk that would be his companion.

They were perhaps 2, maybe a bit more or a bit less. It was the height of summer, and the evening was uncharacteristically warm for the mountains, even for the season. Gareth had recruited Salome to help him hunt for a particular mushroom that only grew in the summer. It was easiest to find at night, he’d told her, because the ribs under the cap sparkled and glowed as if dusted by the moon. It was while on this hunt they came across a most peculiar sight. The stag was unlike any they had come across before. The figure resembled the Irish Elks of old folklore, though none had been seen in several lifetimes and were thought to be long lost to the cruelties of time. He was a mighty bit smaller, though, reaching only about 14 hands at the shoulder, the cups of his antlers spanning not more than three feet from one to the other. Nestled in the bone chalice was a bed of moss and dripping lichen, sparsely decorated with the exact mushrooms they were looking for. The dark pelt of the elk had a spotting of moss growing along his spine, crawling out across his rump, the foliage giving off it’s own dull luminescence. He did not move when he spotted the two intruders, and it was at this moment that Gareth realized the poor creature was caught in some sort of botched snare. It had not been enough to outright kill him, but it had wound its way around his legs and had nearly crippled him. After much careful work, they managed to free the stag who seemed to understand their desire to help and willingly followed them to Gareth’s secret cave. There, the stallion would give him the name Noor and nurse him back to health. The stag has not left his side since, though prefers to keep his distance from large crowds and will all but refuse to enter a city if it is day.

As he grew older and became more comfortable with his own studies, Gareth began branching out into other skills, though he would never master them as he had with his herb craft. Their herd had an incredible tinker-er, whom he would meet with regularly to learn how to craft small toys and gifts. He was not particularly talented, but with persistence and passion for a project he could make something relatively decent. He spent close to six months crafting one particular gift for Salome. Little did he know it would be the last gift he would be able to give her.

As they had grown and spent their waking hours together, Gareth had grown particularly fond of her, though he’d dared not voice his feelings out loud. Still, he carried this ember of love inside his breast, and did what he could in the ways he knew how to show this affection. On a full moon in the summer of their third year, he gifted her a small music box. It was an odd shape, not quite round, the edges roughly crafted but done with care. The outside of the box was carved with various sigils, for comfort, self love and other well meaning things, though he’d not tell her this. The inside held a small mirror shard in the lid and a wooden bird carved into his nest, singing a tune meant to mimic the sounds of the waterfall and the natural world from inside the cave which he now thought of as less ‘his’ and more ‘theirs’. It wasn’t an exact thing of beauty, and it certainly would not be something one could give to royalty, but it was made from passion and heart.

Soon thereafter he would never have the chance to tell her how he truly felt. With his steadfast respect for their traditions, when her marriage was announced by her family, he smiled and congratulated her, for he was a wealthy man and she would be well taken care of for the rest of her years. He often thinks of what could have been, had he the courage to speak his true thoughts to her those years past.

Not long after Salome was taken away to her new life, Gareth’s grandmother passed, and he crafted a vial to keep her ashes in on a chain necklace. While their herd was a bonded community, he felt as if all his ties were loosened. In his heart there was a tug as young men are often subject to, to strike out on his own. He made his living providing medicines and cures to those who asked, and his skill with particular plants garnered the attention of those with less than pure intentions. Honest work was honest, and he would take the money of any who gave it to him. After all, what someone does with a tonic once it has passed beyond his grasp is no longer his concern. Many plants that kill in large quantities can cure when applied properly, after all. The plants themselves hold no intent, and the intent of his clients is no concern of his, and it’s perhaps better this way. His heart is still soft, and it aches, but providing service and comfort to those who seek it soothe the bitterness for a short while, and for now that is enough.

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Bonded

Noor - An Irish Elk- like figure, he stands 14hh even, the cup of his antlers deep, though not wide, spanning 3 feet from one end to the other. These are home to a bed of moss and lichen, smatterings of mushrooms rest in the lush green foliage. These glow once the sun has set, providing pinpricks of light in the darkness. Along the spine of his pelt moss has taken to growing as well, leaving a trail down to his rump, casting a greenish hue to the pelt here. His eyes are a vibrant yellow-green that matches the brightest spots of moss on his pelt, giving them a vaguely feline appearance at a distance. Otherwise, he is natural in colour, remaining a ruddy brown.

Noor is very even tempered and often provides sound advice and perspective for Gareth when he is feeling emotional conflict. He is skittish around large crowds and cares not for boorish types, but will tolerate most things so long as Gareth is nearby. He does not often physically voice his displeasure with things, but if he thinks ill of you he wont hesitate to give you the elk equivalent of the stink eye. He tends to act as a shadow to Gareth, following him closely, and not deliberate in attracting any sort of attention. In the wild, he nearly blends into the background, in the city (which he will rarely go) he sticks out like a sore thumb and will be a nervous wreck if stuck inside for too long.

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Accessories

Necklace: a slender gold chain that carries a gold vial filled with the ashes of his grandmother, rosemary, and lavender

Scrap of scarlet cloth tied around left leg - often used with oils and incense and carries different, but hardly ever conflicting smells

A harness with two leather bags - The first is loose with a pull string tie for gathering raw materials, situated on his right side, this bag also contains various scrap cloth for keeping things mildly separated. The second is a more structured piece, though clearly patched and resewn through many years of wear, this one is larger and rests to his left side, a rudimentary bone clasp keeps it shut. The inside is segmented into three spaces, one for vials, one for powders, and another with rudimentary tools, such as a mortar and pestle, a small blade and a basic sewing kit. This harness and it's bags have a minor enchantment which allows Gareth to make them "disappear" at will. The enchantment makes the harness seem to be of no importance, encouraging the viewer to overlook it completely as if it were not even there.

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Original Character Design || Reference Image