Raulwicke Legendsinger || District 8 || FIN

A shortish young man, Raulwicke has never been one to use his size to his disadvantage. Standing a mere 5 feet and four inches off the ground he has long been the but of many jokes by his peers. But the raven eyes of a deep brown that almost descend into true midnight darkness complements his wavy, short black hair and often leave his pursuers more stupefied than malicious towards him. The gentle smile of a mischievous prankster pulls at his lips just as the cares and worries of someone far older pull them down again. Many meet Raulwicke and their first thought is not of the wistful way he laughs off every situation, but the deep sorrow that holds on his shoulders when he believes no one is watching.

Raulwicke's frame does not seem built for such a heavy burden as his sinewy and tiny shoulders seem barely able to keep his frame righted. But powerful legs from years of carrying his own weight across the land have given him a poise and dignity only found inside the wealthiest of Capitol Households. Rough hands show years of working with them, yet carefully manicured nails reveal his upbringing as that of a more refined nature.

Born into a world where he refused to see darkness, Raulwicke is a merry prankster. Taking delight in the distraught agitation of others he has made it his mission to travel the land bringing joy and misery to anyone who happens upon him. This has led to Raulwicke's seemingly contradictory love and dislike of people. Fiercely loyal, Raulwicke is a bit like a kicked dog, knowing that to return to his master will cause him pain and misfortune, but not being able to resist due to the thrill of the attention and love.

Do not for a moment confuse Raulwicke's revelry with Sadism, as he is not purposfully causing the unfortunate events that he enacts. No, Raulwicke has believed from a very young age that he is on a Quest from a God. A god of an old world, The Trickster by name. Many a night has Raulwicke sat by fire and hearth and regaled a captive audience with tales of the Trickster and his sisters, but many who have listened to these tales have walked away with messages of a mad man who had taken up residence in the local inn. Again, this has led Raulwicke to fend for himself, seeing only he as the sane one in a world that does not believe in the Magic of the Trickster.

Raulwicke's Patron is claimed to be the god of Fools, travelers, and merrymen, highways theives, and catburglers. At one time or another Raulwicke has played all these roles and they have rubbed off on him. He thinks not twice upon taking something he perceives is needed by he more than another, but is profoundly generous with those who are in need or want. He frowns on those who spoil themselves and thinks badly of their ilk. And yet those who are too poor to feed themselves are also met with his wrath due to his perceived delusion that because he can survive everyone must be able to. He both cherishes the riches of Nobility while damning it, and gives freely to those in need while sneering at their ineptitude.

He truly is a confused man.

Raulwicke is shrouded in mystery. It is doubtful even he knows where he began or what his story truly is. The one he tells the the average passerby who deigns to ask is this:

It all began when he was sitting by a tree one day with an apple in his hand. Upon biting into the apple, he realized their was a worm in it. This startled him so much he began to laugh uncontrollably. Soon he realized his laughter was not alone. A man in a cloak that shone of the midnight stars with a revelers wand stood before him. The man introduced himself as the God, The Trickster and bid Raulwicke entreat upon a quest to restore his power into the world. Raulwicke, so delighted by this delicious prank gladly accepted and became the Herald of the Trickster.

He traveled the world, over mountain, hill, and river until he found Panem and settled there. He made himself a pretty living, but then decided his story needed to move on. So he descended into the districts.

He found each of the districts delightfully silly, each in it's own way. But eventually he settled in district eight, claiming it reminded him of home. He became a minstrel there, telling stories in the factories and bringing a glimmering light to the cold halls and dark world of a place that built creations of warmth and comfort. His eyes glinted when the rumblings of district eight turned towards the capitol. His heart soared at the idea of his greatest Prank yet.