Brandt Wintfrydsyn

Brandt Wintfrydsyn
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Professor
Gender	Male
Race	Roegadyn
Clan	Sea Wolves
Citizenship	Limsa Lominsa/Ul'dah
Guardian	Althyk, the Keeper
Profession	Academic
Server	Balmung

A Roegadyn ex-gladiator - now academic - with a passion for profanity, a host of petty grudges and grumpings, and a caustically paternal streak that sometimes seems to cause more problems than it fixes.

If he calls you anything involving “ass”, that’s good. He likes you. It’s “bastard” you want to watch out for.

Biographical

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Given name: Brandt Wintfrydsyn

Nameday: 18th Sun of the 6th Umbral Moon

Age: 39.

Place of birth: Ul'dah.

Current residence: ???.

Starting City: Limsa Lominsa.

Grand Company Allegiance: Immortal Flames.

Employment: Fellow of Mealvaan's Gate, and Professor of Temporal Arcana Theory.

Marital Status: Irreparably single.

Religion/philosophy: Dislikes most forms of religion, except when they serve his purpose. Enjoys reading about the gods, if only because his view of it paints the whole thing as some kind of mythological pro wrestling. Mostly committed to his academic rationalism.

Talents

• Arcana - Brandt threw himself wholly into the study of magic while bedbound, and that same pigheaded stubbornness from his days of fighting in the ring seems to have given him quite an edge. Author of several long, comprehensive (if rather profane) papers on various matters of arcane import, Brandt dreams of attaining the same infamy he did as a gladiator... but with means of pen and paper instead.

• Weaving - Brandt's got a lot to say on the art of the tailor, but not to anyone who knows him personally. Slightly embarrassed of his enjoyment of the "gentler" craft, he does it to relax most of the time - a method of clearing his mind from the natural irritation and impatience, or the stresses of having to deal with the rigors of teaching/studying.

• The Echo - When it happened the first time, he was convinced that he was the most gifted mage ever to live in Eorzea. After... learning a bit more, he's become more jaded to it, and treats it more with exasperation than anything else.

Appearance

'Build:Commonly seen in a coat or jacket of some kind, Brandt prefers to bundle up - both to hide the scars on his arms and to keep the chill out. His injury apparently made him a little more susceptible to the cold and wind of Limsa’s coastal climate… and that may have had something to do with him growing out his hair, as well.

His coal-colored face is still emblazoned with his gladiator tattoos - the intimidating pattern hasn’t faded much over the years since his departure from the Coliseum. He still bears some scars from the brutal fights of previous years, though he’s content to display these proudly.

Equipment: In lieu of having gaudy, threatening armor - as he did in years previous - he now seems determined to acquire the fanciest clothing possible, being a natural gloater.

Personality

Brandt is hardly a shining paragon of... anything. Foulmouthed, bad-tempered, and determined to prove himself the biggest and loudest in any kind of situation, his time as a gladiator seems to have vested him with some habits that don't carry over very well into polite society - let alone the delicacy and rhetoric of academia. Nevertheless, he seems to have made a name for himself on his sour demeanor and tendencies; despite all his bluster, he does still have quite a cunning mind.

He suffers no fools, and has little patience for anyone, friend or foe alike. However, the one thing he does respect above all else is resilience - the ability to pick oneself up after having been beaten down, inspiring a cragged kind of empathy out of him... though he's not the best at expressing it.

History

Brandt Bonebreaker: you loved to hate him. The gladiator had a penchant for showmanship, arrogance (showing up to several matches drunk), and a carefree tendency to let the hate just slide off him. Fighting was an outlet for him; a way to work off the stress, a fun way to earn a bit of gil, get a bit of exercise, and hear a cheer or two. And it WAS fun. He even had a rival - some Highlander, Murbrecht, trying to play up the lone, brooding hero mask. A guy gets one sword made of darker metal than usual, and suddenly he thinks he's obligated to go on long, idiotic existential rants. He'd talk, Brandt'd laugh, he'd get mad, they'd fight, someone would be defeated, the crowd loved it. Business as usual.

Until a strike from him nearly severed Brandt's arm.

He clearly hadn't meant to do it. Brandt could tell by his expression the moment it happened, though the haze of pain. Regardless, Brandt's career was over, and the crowd had cheered at his end. The Bonebreaker was broken... and for a while, so, too, was the man behind the persona. Brandt spent a long time numb, whiling away his time in convalescence, unwilling to accept what had taken place, and slowly, he passed into obscurity...

...and then, one day, a package arrived to the hospital - a book. A present from an old fan; one of the weird old diehards. No idea how they tracked him down in this little backwater clinic, especially since he wasn’t going by his stage name anymore. Some little Miqo'te girl, G'lantaa something? She couldn’t have been much older than a child during his run in the arena, but for reasons best known to her… she had sent him a book of practical magic. Pointless, dense and infuriating. He tossed it aside.

Later, he yelled at one of the nurses until they picked it up off the floor for him. And he read.

And then he read, and then he read another, and then he wrote a forty-page essay of possibly the most foul and violent language anyone had ever used to describe Thaumic Temporal Deconstruction.

His sword arm would never be the same again. But, as Brandt would realize about five years later - a doctorate in one hand, a mug of Sour Red in the other, and a belligerent colleague's glasses between his teeth - a fighting man can be very resourceful when he puts his mind to it.

Friends & Foes

G'lantaa Qimi: Young Miqo’te girl, she was taken to see Brandt’s battles throughout early childhood, and grew up with a strange passion for the gladitorial spectacle - despite her otherwise cheerful, chipper and friendly demeanor. A student of the Arcanists, she was responsible for sending Brandt’s first book of theory to the hospital. While he finds her cheery personality a bit… grating, and has even less patience for sycophants, the sense of debt led him to take her on as an apprentice of sorts. She now serves as his proofreader, cleaner, secretary, laundrywoman, messenger, retainer, merchant representative, bookbinder…the list goes on, though she seems happy enough, and he makes sure she’s paid well for her trouble.

Murbrecht Blackhearth/”Brecht Blackheart”: The stonefaced rival of Brandt’s fighting days, Murbrecht’s time in the arena came and went with a whimper, instead of the Bonebreaker’s bang. Out of favor with the crowds, and out of appointed fights, his livelihood and cashflow drained away. With a wife and daughter to support, the lofty nihilism and melodramatic flair of the young fighter gave way to a gloomy futility, and he had only one person to turn to… He wasn’t spared Brandt’s caustic humor or schadenfreude. The Roegadyn could see that the man who had broken his arm was practically nothing, now. But, after all the jabs and insults were over with… he made sure Murbrecht had a spot in the markets, working on behalf of Brandt and earning a comfortable living. The two are not so much friends as retired enemies… but they seem to tolerate each other’s company if one of them needs a night of drinking and talking.

Player Info

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