Lord Chester Wynjesker, 4th Baron Wynjesker (Mediaeval)

JamesG · Co-Administrator Joined: 28 Jul 2009 Posts: 14

Full Name: Lord Chester Tyrell Wynjesker, 4th Baron Wynjesker
Age: 20
Species: Eurasian Otter
Gender: Male

Appearance: Chester is an Otter that stands at five feet ten inches. His frame is slender, but not overly skinny. His fur is light brown upon his back, legs and arms and head, though he has dirty blonde hair on his head, and very light brown fur on his lower muzzle, which extends down to his abdomen and the insides of his arms. His tail is long and thick, his paws webbed. The hair on his head is usually quite messy.

Chester dresses in a dark red tunic with gold lining, with a brown belt around his waist, dark red matching breeches and black shin-high boots. He wears a white frilled shirt under the tunic, which has puffed sleeves at the shoulder. He wears black velvet gloves when it is cold, and a black velvet Tudor bonnet, with a white feather. He also has a black travelling cloak. As is Edwinish custom for nobility, Chester usually wears a sword, with an accompanying dagger.

History: Chester was born into the House of Wynjesker to Henry and Valerie Wynjesker, whom lived in a large country mansion in Wessex, Edwin. Henry, his father, was an enormous otter that suited his Lordly position down to his inecessant shouting at the lower orders, which included wife and son. Unfortunately for Valerie, Henry was not averse to having affairs with anything sporting a pair of legs. So it was up to the mother, mostly, to raise and tutor young Chester.

Occasionally, Henry saw to it that he had some time for his son, as he expected little Chester, his only child, to be Lord in his place one day, and rule effectively. So every Sunday, after the Church service to Midas, Chester receive what was possibly the most bizarre sets of 'life lessons' provided by his loud and somehwat obnoxious behemoth of a father. These lessons usually took the form of tutoring Chester on how to fight with his fists, sword and dagger, as was the noble custom. Duels being frequent in Edwinish society, Henry could not have a weak, ill-prepared son for the quite literal cut-and-thrust of the real world.

Of course, Chester being several heads shorter and several tonnes lighter than his dear Papa, often came out worse off, but nevertheless, his skill in those fields became very good. If ever he had a scrap or disagreement with a childhood friend, one could be certain of the victor, at least. And Chester did have several friends, mostly sons and daughters of other Nobility. Chester at this time was characterised as energetic and as boisterous as his mother claimed his father had been back before he started his affairs with other personages, whom are not strictly relevant to the recount, so shall receive no more mention.

Chester first rode a horse when he was nine years of age. Previously, he had only ridden ponies, but Lord Henry was determined that his son could defend the estate from a whole army by himself, if necessary. No doubt Henry himself was imposing enough to ride into battle with the King, as he had done years ago, during a war, again of which has little relevance and so shall have no elaboration. Fortunately for Chester, unlike his dear friends, Henry picked one of the nastiest, most violent horses in the County of Wessex. Chester had broken his arms and even a rib more times than he could count on both paws barely three months since his first ride on Hurler, an aptly named animal that was prone to rear up and unseat the little Otter on his back. This was a stroke of luck, as Chester had found from then on all other steeds to be relatively tame.

So, by Chester's teens, he had a large inheritence of country mansion, riches, horses and political power in the region of Wessex. He was an apt swordsman, archer and rider, as his father had seen him fit to be. He could read and write and perform the day-to-day mathematics he needed. However, there was one problem that was to see Chester's bright future miserably scarred.

Henry and Chester had never quite agreed on certain issues, and as Chester went through adolescence, this had been amplified. His mother was partially responsible for this dissent, as well as his friends. The main point Henry and he could never agree on was the acceptability of open adultery. Chester believed such acts were a pain to his beloved mother, and a mark against Midas. Henry believed such acts the birthright of his position, and that Chester was being weak. This point neither would move on, and Chester found himself finding his father less and less likeable as time progressed. He had loved him as a child does his father, but now he found less reason too. Their lessons became something he dreaded weekly, as his father was still the better swordsman, and reminded his son painfully of his disappointment. It seemed to Chester that he wasn't the right son, the son Henry wanted, though arguably it was Henry that could not see his luck for having Chester as a son.

Henry, in Chester's eyes, became a shouting, angry man that was constantly disappointed in him, was often rude about his mother, and flaunted his adulteries in her face. Whilst the father's and son's disagreements were sometimes quite minor, they became a tower of grievances and bottled up hatred that one day, was destined to topple.

There was tension in the atmosphere at dinner. Henry, a hulking otter sat at the head of the table, scoffing his Sunday roast. He had sparred with Chester earlier that day, nearly cutting out the boy's throat. As he chewed, he wondered where he had gone wrong with that boy. He suspect it was Valerie's fault, somehow. Valerie herself had given up on ever finding love from Henry again. She was a wispy haired shadow of her younger self, quietly chewing her food slowly, as if she really hadn't the will to sustain herself any longer. Chester was late to dinner. The servant sent for him had told the young Wynjesker that dinner was served, but the young Master, as the servants referred to him, had not yet arrived.

Finally Chester came to the dining hall. The long table, covered in silver cutlery, the best crockery, lit with glowing candelabras, as well as the expensive overhead chandelier. The candles set into wall-brackets too burned, illuminating the various paintings set upon the wall in golden gilted frames. Chester walked quickly to his seat, eyes down, trying to avoid his father's gaze. He knew Henry would say something. Henry could never resist.

"Late." The large otter spat, along with a chunk of roast beef. "Like your mother always was. She'd be late for her own funeral." Chester felt like snarling inside at the insult to his mother, but kept a straight face, eyes down, concentrating on his dinner. The servant has pulled his chair out for him, and left the room once the young Master was seated. Now the family was as alone as is possible with so many servants in the mansion. Henry, not content with this silent treatment, decided to bully his offspring further. He began to provoke Chester. Henry loved reactions. He loved arguments because in an argument, he was always the victor, in this house.

"I think it's trouble with the head. Your mother's absent-minded head, and now she's passed it onto you. You've not got the focus, the direction. If your swordsmanship's anything to go by today, you've also inherited her stupidity". Henry wanted a reaction. Now he got it. Chester snapped and with a snarl drew his sword, and hesitated. This gave Henry the split second he needed to draw his own blade. Chester hesitated himself, if to wonder if this might be the last sunset on of them would ever see through the bay windows across the Wynjesker estate. Could he kill his father? Suddenly, a pent-up rage against the man made Chester leap up onto the table, sending plates, roast and cutlery flying, swinging the weapon at Henry.

Henry parried, and climbed up the table himself, Valerie screaming and sobbing. Now the two of them duelled back and forth along the length of the table, silverware clattering across the floor, the candelabras being knocked over, singing fur and setting alight the tablecloth. The roast beef ended up putting wet mark on an expensive portrait on the wall, and landed on the floor with a dull thud. Chester had pulled out his dagger, sword in his right hand, dagger his left, Henry doing the same. It was a style of cutting and parrying the sword, whilst trying to thrust with the dagger. Henry knew he was a better swordsman, but Chester was near howling with rage, landing blow after blow. He was mad beyond belief, every part of his being despising the otter that stood before him. Eventually, Henry's overconfidence saw the end of him. He had thrown his son off-kilter and spread his arms wide, a gesture here meaning 'you can't beat me, boy'. But Chester unexpectedly lunged forward, and buried all seventeen inches of the dagger into his father.

The servants were coming. He could hear their footsteps, quickening at the noise of the fight. And with the servants, there was no hope of escape. Chester was a murderer. Cold, sick fear flooded him. This was unplanned, unmeditated. An act of rage, to defend his mother's honour and to revenge his father's insult. The young otter felt then, this was the point of no return. Leaving his mother weeping and shaking uncontrollably, Chester ran to his room. Panic. Clothes. Quills, parchment. Ink. Cloak. Money. He needed to leave the mansion tonight. Henry had been a friend of the King, no less, though he had been less popular with other Lords. Chester hadn't realised, as he packed a small bag, and filled his pockets with what could be carried, that at his father's death, he had become Lord Chester, 4th Baron Wynjesker. The property was his now, though at the news of his father's death, no doubt the King would try and have Chester captured and made to pay, perhaps with his life.

No more than a matter of minutes since the fateful duel, Lord Chester left his home for what was likely to be the last time. Not five minutes after that, Henry's body was discovered, along with the still-sobbing Valerie, and a dining hall half demolished and partially on fire. And not seven days passed when the King heard word of a treacherous murder, of his good friend Lord Henry. His son was the primary suspect, having left the house, and disappearing. Valerie herself never testified as to whom murdered Henry. Lady Wynjesker became a sad, widowed recluse, and her son became a fugitive from His Majesty.
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"England Expects Every Man to Do His DUTY"

JustinG · Posted: Fri Jul 31, 2009 1:31 pm Post subject:

Very nice indeed, James. Brilliantly done.
Interesting character, to be sure. I'd like to see him in an RP at some point. Moreover, I'd like to be in that RP as well.

I actually wish that you would write more here, as I greatly enjoy your literary style and the stories you tend to write.
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~My Characters~

RisingPhoenix · Posted: Fri Jul 31, 2009 9:08 pm Post subject:

You missed spelled Medieval. Epic Fail.
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I have risen to the top. Now for the decent.

JamesG · Co-Administrator Joined: 28 Jul 2009 Posts: 14

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Middle_Ages

RisingPhoenix · Posted: Fri Jul 31, 2009 9:19 pm Post subject:

Oh. Then I fail. ~hides in a corner~ Sorry.
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I have risen to the top. Now for the decent.

JamesG · Co-Administrator Joined: 28 Jul 2009 Posts: 14

Heh. I'm not sure we've met properly. James, at your service. Very Happy

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"England Expects Every Man to Do His DUTY"

RisingPhoenix · Posted: Fri Jul 31, 2009 9:31 pm Post subject:

I dont soppose we have. Im Phoenix, Felias stalker.
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I have risen to the top. Now for the decent.