Diedrich Volker

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Note: But wait, there's more! Keep scrolling to see what I mean.

Appearance

A veritable mountain of a man, Diedrich stands tall and proud, significantly taller than the average Hrothgar.His mane is a jet black sort of colour, kept neatly trimmed in the back and swept out of his eyes for ease of work. Said eyes are dual colored, the right a grassy sort for green and the left a piercing white. His beard as is well kept as his hair. Trimmed short, it goes along his jaw and chin, trailing down towards his Adam's apple before tapering out. A messy looking scar carves through his left brow down to his left cheek. Another jagged scar cuts diagonally across his other cheek, nearly spanning the length of it. There is also a small mostly vertical scar on his snout, close to the hollow of his right eye. Despite its scars, most seem to believe his face is well formed and handsome by Hrothgar standards.Years of hard work and equally hard travel have given him a sturdy, toned physique peppered with a myriad of scars ranging from random claw-like scars earned from beasts long since slain to age old puncture wounds, slashes and more; the man has clearly seen his fair share of conflict and is no stranger to pain. His arms are thick and powerful; his broad, muscular chest covered with a thick layer of fluffy, well-kept fur that thins slightly as it trails down to his defined abs before appearing again as it nears his groin.His paws are calloused and rough, but mostly untouched as far as scars go. On his left paw resides the only tattoo on his whole person: a dak red wolf emblem, one of its ears adorned with an earring. It's just barely visible beneath the fur covering the back of it and easy to miss.Leg day isn't something he skips. Every day is leg day for a weak aethered man who loathes to step aboard airships. Though just as muscular as the rest of him, it seems like his rump hoards most of the fat in his body to itself in a pleasantly proportional way. Long story short, when he wears pants, he fills them all the way out, front and back alike.He takes great pride in his appearance and makes sure to work out when he isn't working or traveling just to make sure he's maintaining his figure.

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A surly and hot-tempered--yet surprisingly friendly--Hrothgar. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and the way to his heart's through his stomach. At the end of the day he's a simple creature, a simpler man.Having spent most of his childhood in Ul'dah for some reason or another, he has a taste for gil and everything it can buy. Later in life he became much more well-traveled. Now there's hardly a fulm in Eorzea he hasn't stepped on or at least seen, though recently he's put down roots in Kugane--Shirogane, to be exact, in a certain mansion of a certain extremely-legitimate businessman.

Once upon a time, in a land closer than you'd expect, a Hrothgar was born. He was small, smaller than he should be, his cries faint and weak. He was never meant to live long and thus he was given no name. But against all odds the sickly Hrothgar grew up and up, healthy and strong despite what everyone else believed.Growing up was easy and hard all at once. Easy because his parents left him to his own devices and hard because... his parents left him to his own devices. He could do whatever he wanted, have whatever he wanted (that he could steal, at least), well everything except for their love. So he acted out, a veritable terror in his little town. Theft, street brawls, even drugs. Anything was on the table, anything for a scrap of attention from his mother and father who cared enough to bring him into the world but not enough to keep him in theirs. So after years and years of nothing but dismissive waves and half-hearted nods he had finally had enough of it and just left, never looking back.Turned out the life of a young run away was harder than the life of an ignored kid. City to city, town to town, no one wanted to hire a grungy looking kid to do anything worthwhile. His search for work led him to Ul'dah, the city of commerce, of oppertunity. There, he fell into the habit of taking any job thrown his way. No matter how benign or unreasonable, he'd take it and complete it to the letter. His indiscriminate attitude towards the types of jobs he took landed him in no small amount of trouble. During one of the days and nights he spent rotting away in gaol, he met a certain someone and that certain someone convinced him to join his gang. With nothing better to do, all that was left for him was to say yes. So he did.It was a rag tag group, The Dry Bones. They all did whatever they liked, it was less of a gang and more like a gaggle of thugs and criminals that agreed to find and do work together occasionally, but that was fine for the young, directionless Hrothgar. And so life was simple for awhile, go on a couple 'jobs' and come home to pile of furs and a belly full of whatever they'd bought with their stolen coin. It was during one of their many 'jobs' that things got complicated.It was supposed to be an in and our burglary but the info had been wrong. The residents were home, and were fighting back. One of the gang members was convinced they needed to kill the elderly couple in order to keep their cover. He had never killed anyone before. Even when he was taking up nearly every job he could get he had never killed anyone. And he wouldn't start that day. He fought off his former gangmates, the clash bitter and vicious. Tables were turned over, chairs smashed. The house was worse for wear along with the Hrothgar himself. Bloody, beaten and barely holding on, he still managed a self-satisfied smile; he was many things, but he wasn't a murderer. And then his world went black.When he awoke he was in a bed, a real bed. Not a pile of furs, not a nest of leaves nor a thin, scratchy cot. An actual bed. As it had turned out, the elderly couple decided to take the young man in. Perhaps it was a sense of gratitude for being saved, perhaps it was pity for his situation. Or maybe it was some combination of the two. Either way, he had a new family, and upon telling them he had no name of his own yet: a new name.Diedrich Volker. A strong name in a language long forgotten, one fitting of a protector, his new guardians insisted. The man, Frederich, was a retired carpenter and the woman, Triss, was a retired baker. Both were living their retirement out in a villa near Costa del Sol, and it was this villa that Diedrich called home. The Volkers spoiled him rotten, treating him like the son they never had. For 7 happy years, he wanted for nothing. Not food, not entertainment, not love. Everything he could ever ask for and more was at his fingertips for the first time in his life. And then, in what felt like the blink of an eye, it was gone.They had all seen it in the cards, in the way Fredierch coughed and the way Triss was moving slower and slower. Their times were running short. Luckily, both his adoptive parents passed in their sleep. First Triss, and then Frederich. Their dying wish had been a simple one: live long and live happily. So it was with great reluctance that Diedrich sold their estate, taking with him only a couple mementos to remember them by as he set out to go and find his happiness.

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Ohh a commissions, shiny

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Accurate as of February 26, 20243Please note: RP tag is on? In character. RP tag is off? That's just me baybee.

21+ year old guy living in the US | Pacific Standard Time dwellerAnd yes.
I have Mare and F-List, you're gonna have to send a tell for those ones tho pal.

Mature themes are OK, don't even gotta talk with me ahead of time. Only rule is that Diedrich cannot die.

Heads up: I am a very inconsistent writer. Sometimes I am poppin off and I can respond in 2 minutes or even 1 and other times I take like 5 and then it's full of typos. What gives man?

As far as rp topics go, I'm pretty easy. Action, drama, mystery, etc. I just love a good story, ya know? Style-wise, I like to think of myself in terms of the adapt, improvise, overcome Bear Grills meme. In layman's terms, I mold my writing to match YOURS. So take that as you will. You go first person: I go first person. You go third: I go third. You go second person.... you a lil' freak but I like that about you, keep it up, buddy. One-liners do not bother me at all, but my days of a 3-parter are long behind me so don't expect a beautiful, 12 font, Times New Garlean, 1 ilm margin, double-spaced, 5-page minimum essay, okay? I'm still in college, trying to have a little bit of fun here come on :(

Alright, with all that shit out of the way.... Hey, my name is Renji. If I have missed a tell from you, I promise it's not on purpose. I probably took my earbuds out and forgot to put them back in along with the fact that I'm probably on a text channel that I don't have tells on so that I don't lose them; ironic, I know. That or I'm afk LOL.If you ever want to try and organize something then don't hesitate to send a tell my way and we can get to talking. Or you can reach out to me through my discord, which I will give ya if we vibing.Of course, spontaneous rp is always fun too! If I've got the RP tag on then you're more than welcome to just walk up and speak to me. If I don't respond right away: I'm reading. If I don't respond in 5 minutes and I haven't even targeted you, I have likely stepped away from my computer. I do my best to not ignore people, I know how that feels.