Elrick Otto Erenford


Since he could remember, Elrick Otto Erenford had wanted to become a knight.  Like his namesake uncle, Elrick had been.  Otto, as his family had come to call him as when he was a child Elrick was still alive.  Being a nephew of the ruling patron of Erenford had its perks, and because of his dreams, Otto was fast-tracked, becoming a page at the age of 6 and a full-blown squire by the time he was 13.  The boy excelled at horsemanship, and there wasn't a set of armor as highly polished and taken care of as that of the knight he was squired to.  Sadly, his time as a squire to his uncle was cut short, when during a jousting tournament he was unseated, taking a fatal fall when he impacted into the ground.  He'd inheritted his uncles armor, his weapons, and even the pair of war horses, but he had a good bit of growing and learning before he was ready to fill the role the untimely death of his uncle had opened up.  Still though, being the nephew of a lord played its part and Otto was quickly picked up by another knight.

Otto, like his uncle Elrick, was competitive at heart, and knew the value of hard work and practice. Every day, he practiced under the tutelage of his sponsoring knight, learning horsemanship, swordsmanship, and in the evenings he learned heraldry. He excelled in the use of the lance and spear, likely the Erenford blood coursing through his veins. He'd spent most of his life away from home, travelling from one tournament to the next, or assisting his knight in training or being instructed by said knight. It was the man's life, his very essence, a childhood spent in servitude, his adolescence spent in both servitude and training. When he turned 19, he was brought before a contingent of knights, each grilling him in turn, questioning him on the codes of chivalry, tactics. Each eventually tested him in various forms of combat, and while he didn't defeat any of them in their tests, he put up one hell of a fight. It was that evening when he was brought before his patron and the blade laid upon his shoulders. A knight's life is one of servitude, but it is also a life of example. Knights were the symbols of their houses, and he was an Erenford. His uncle's armor had been adjusted to fit. His horses groomed and once more dressed in their appropriate barding. He'd earned his right to lead men in combat and compete in the most noble of sports, the joust. It was that night were he went from boy to man.

Otto returned home, riding proud atop what was now his horse, wearing his armor and carrying something other than a dulled practice sword on his hip. He even had his own squire now, someone to help him in and out of armor, to help maintain the horses and the expensive armor he now had to keep up. He'd left a boy and returned a man, Little Elrick, his mother called him as it was her brother he was named after. Still though, there was a touch of boyhood in him, and a life of servitude brought him down to earth. Being of noble birth may have given him an edge, but hard work is what brought him success. He could talk easily with commoners and nobles alike, as long as the conversation was about his true passion of proper combat.


Father: Lord Milner Erenford (NPC)
Mother: Lady Rylissa Erenford (nee Wode) (NPC)
Uncle: Lord Miraz Erenford, Lord of Heronhurst (NPC)
Aunt: Lady Aislynne Erenford, Lady of Heronhurst (NPC)
Cousin: Ser Marvish Erenford (deceased)
Cousin: Young Lord Ser Brennart Erenford
Cousin: Lady Emylie Erenford
Cousin: Lady Aemy Erenford
Cousin, baseborn: Ser Holden Rivers
Ward of Erenford: Lady Bryliesa Frey

Physical Features

Ser Elrick Otto Erenford is a large man. Standing just shy of six and a half feet and weighing around 250 pounds, he almost appears chiseled in stone. Close cropped platinum hair covers his head, appearing even brighter against his sun-touched skin. His grey eyes have an intense look about them, though there are the faint beginnings of laugh lines at the corners.

Currently, the twenty-year old knight is dressed black woolen pants and a simple grey shirt. A black leather doublet is worn over the shirt and matches the black leather, knee-high boots he wears on his feet. A single heron feather hangs from a small braid of hair that has been allowed to grow much longer than the rest, coming down behind his ear with the feather often resting on his left shoulder.

Poking over his right shoulder is the hilt of a hand-and-half sword. Wrapped in black leather with a silver heron's head as the pommel, the long, broad blade is too bulky to be worn on his side. It's black leather scabbard has silver bandings but is otherwise unaddorned, yet hangs by a wide leather strap with silver studs that crosses from the man's shoulder to his hip.

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