Voted Most Likely Tag, Part 1

So this is such a neat and fun little tag, and I was pleased when Nicole tagged me.  :)  I love any chance to talk about my characters!  (However, this post is very long...you might need to get some snacks and a drink...)

Rules

• Thank the blogger who tagged you
• Include this link: http://phoebeamorryce.wordpress.com/2018/10/15/voted-most-likely
• Use your own lovely Original Characters (OC’s); don’t use a friend’s characters or characters from your favorite fandom. They can be from any project, so long as you created them. For more fun, try to use as many different characters as possible.
• Tag at least five lovely bloggers to play along!

For something a little different, I'm going to reference three of the quirkiest characters from three different book series, just so I don't get character overload.

Betrayal and Bravery

Tach the Minstrel, Ondore Windborne, Wisdom Ravencroft

Rauladin

Fitz, Berend nae Richimae, Ravenna Castrandottir

 Heritage of Kings

Cadren Finn Fëvere, Cade Tannerin Fëvere, Josharin "Joshi" Coderim Fëvere

Most Likely to Become a Poet

Tach leaned back against the wall, his eyes half-closed, the firelight across the room warming the tip of his nose.  Laughter and the clinking of plates covered most of his thoughts as the occupants of the inn talked over their dinners.  A chair scraped as a shadow fell over his face and someone cleared their throat.  Tach opened his eyes to see a family standing across the table from him, their homespun wool marking them out as villagers or farmers - the poorest sort in Raybir.

"May we share your table?" the father asked, sliding his hat off respectfully.  "It's crowded here, and we can't find room for all of us."

"Yes, please, take a seat."  Tach grabbed his pack and offered his chair to one of the older daughters, waiting until they were all seated before claiming the empty spot on the bench, squeezing in beside a couple little children.  He hung his lute back up on the edge of the bench, waiting until he knew it wouldn't slide onto the ground before finally letting go of the strap.

"Are you a poet?" one of the children asked, his little brown eyes wide.  "Do you write all the stories?"

Tach laughed.  "No, I'm a minstrel."

"A minstrel is a poet," a sister, probably two or three years older, corrected.  "They write songs."

"I don't write songs," Tach corrected, trying to be casual.  "I just learn ones that others play."

"You don't make your own songs?"

Okay, so once he had made up his own little rhyme, sort of a chant to sing while trotting through the mountain tunnels, a pack of Bibles over his shoulder.  He never repeated it to anyone, but secretly, he liked it.  "I do make my own songs.  They're not any good."

"Then you're a poet," the little boy announced, as if that's all there was to it.

Tach shrugged a shoulder.  "Alright, then.  I'm a poet."

Most Likely to Dance in the Rain

Marywyn tugged her hood further over her brow and hurried the last few steps through the rain, sighing in relief when she was finally under the shelter of the West Band barracks.  Harpsong filled the air, and she huffed for a moment.  The music had already started, and the room was full.  With the last of the spring rains coating the city in a shiny coat of water, people were more likely to be indoors.

At least it wasn't cold out.  That would be miserable.

"Marywyn!" Wisdom grabbed her elbow and towed her to the corner by the door.  "There you are!  I thought you wouldn't be here tonight!"

"The Princess didn't need me, so I managed to grab a cloak and hurry over," Marywyn laughed.  "Good to see you, too.  Good-even, Ondore."

From her perch on the edge of a bench, Ondore beamed.  "Good-even.  Is it still raining?"

Marywyn nodded.  A new song started, a fast-paced fiddle tune.  "Is Duren here?"

"Yes, he is.  No one else plays the fiddle like that." Wisdom laughed.  "Ondore, where are you going?"

"This is a dance song," Ondore insisted, tossing her cloak onto the bench and unbuckling her sword.  "You can't just sit and listen to a dance song!"

"But it's too crowded inside, there's no room!"

Ondore pushed open the barracks door and stepped into the rain, spinning on her heel and laughing.  Alone, she stomped out the steps to a Raybirn shuffle, her feet keeping time in the puddles.  Raindrops slid down her face, but she only threw back her head and laughed into the night sky.

Most Likely To Look Good in a Kilt

Cade looked at the mirror one final time, sliding back and forth across the stone floor in his socks, staring at his reflection from all angles.

"It looks fine, if that's what you're wondering," Jewel said, looking up from sewing that rebellious button back onto his best vest.  "Just try not to spill anything during the dinner afterwards.  I don't want to clean two kilts tomorrow."

"Joshi already made a mess?" Cade struck up a salute, making a face in the mirror.

"No, but I have a feeling he will."

The familiar horn-wail echoed up the mountain halls, and Cade snatched up the vest and stuffed it over his head.  "I'm going to be late!"

"No, you're not!  You still have time!"  Jewel adjusted the button, studied her husband, and smiled.  "Watch Joshi, keep an eye on Finn, and I'll see you at dinner."

Cade marched down the hall, stretching every inch he could out of his short frame.  By the time he arrived at the great hall, the treaty ceremony was about to begin.  He slipped in the back door and padded to his position, standing beside the throne.  His brother, Clan Chieftian Cadren Finn Fëvere stood at the top of the three steps to the throne, his arms folded across his chest, his head thrown back in that wild Fëvere pride spoken of in tales.  His kilt blazed in the blue and gold patterns of their family, and his sword - their father's sword - swung at his side.  He glanced at Cade, just for a fraction of a second, and Cade raised his arm, his fist clenched, in their private salute.

Finn would be fine.  Their younger brother, Joshi, on the other hand...Cade spotted his lanky form darting about the corner of the room as the spifling rushed to get to his place on the other side of the throne before the Forest Clan arrived.  He scooted into position just as the hall doors swung open with a flair.  Joshi's kilt was splattered with mud, and a dirty handprint smeared across his beardless face.

Cade didn't want to know.

Most Likely to Get Punched in the Face

"Look at him, eh?  He can't even look me straight in the eyes!"

Cade refused to tilt his head back to prove the challenger's point.  Instead, he turned to face the other new recruits, resisting the urge to mutter not again.  This happened every time...the new boys came in, convinced they were the next best swordsmen, only to discover their Captain was barely 5'5''.

"Look at him, eh?" Cade snorted.  "If he thinks he's so tall, maybe he should become a Clan Chieftain, since height determines status!"

The recruit punched him in the cheek, but not only was Cade used to it, he had predicted it.  He let the blow push him away, whipping out his sword and continuing to move, spinning on his heel and coming back around to point his blade at the recruit's shoulder.  "You want to start your record with an assault on the Captain of the Guard?  My assistant would only be too happy to mark you down."

Egin nearly dropped the stack of papers, but only Cade caught the movement.  "Only too happy," the ranger repeated, his low voice making the comment not as threatening as it could have been.

The new recruit only laughed.  "I'm not scared of you two.  You can't order me around."

"Just like a child," Cade muttered under his breath, receiving a firm grip to a shoulder and a punch in the nose.  The hand on his shoulder jerked upwards, keeping him from spinning backwards.  He sniffed back blood, tilted his head back, and laughed in the man's face.  The man hesitated, then stepped back to see Cade's knife pressed against his ribs.

Most Likely to Drop Everything and Become a Sheep Herder

"What on the Mountain have you done?" Baldor stared in dismay at the goats bouncing on and off the table, their little hooves doing a tap-dance on the polished wood.

"I got some goats," Finn shrugged helplessly.

Joshi jumped onto the table, chasing after one of the kids, and promptly slid across the surface, his socked feet flailing in the air for a moment before he fell to the ground with a scream.

"We had goats back at home.  Always had them.  If I could, I'd go back there," Finn struggled to explain.  "But Tallaran said I needed some kind of a hobby, something outside, that the people wouldn't think was strange."

Baldor passed a hand over his face, looking older than he had in a while.  "So you brought goats into the throne room."

"They're just babies!"

Most Likely to be Found in a Library

"Histories, histories, beginning of the Gypsy line," Ravenna muttered, carrying the stack of books over to the correct shelf.  "Gwen, did you get that last pile?  They go on the art bookcase, third row, between Rousin's How to Draw Mud and the three books on water in Havendenara."

The other girl muttered something from the far end of the library, but Ravenna didn't bother asking her to repeat it.  They still had three more piles of returned books to sort through and put back before lunch, not to mention she had invited Raul over for dinner and still needed to get something from the market if they were going to eat anything besides leftovers and fruit.   He would likely bring his bodyguard, Berend, which meant another mouth to feed...

"I don't get paid enough for this job," she spat, climbing up a shelf to reach the top of the bookcase.  "They could fix the ladders, at least, with all the money they're not paying me!"

Most Likely to Sleep Through an Earthquake

Cade jumped to his feet, scrambling for his sword in the dark.  His fingers scraped against rocks and dirt before brushing against the familiar leather grip.  He pushed up to his feet, nearly falling down as the ground continued to shake.  The camp was all awake, warriors shouting, grabbing their things, a few screaming like they thought the earth would swallow them whole.

Finn sat on his bedroll, watching as everyone ran about the camp, tripping, stumbling, falling.  His eyes scanned the edges of the trees, keeping an eye out for the trailing mercenaries - the earthquake was not on his list of things to worry about.

It only lasted for a few minutes, and by then the warriors were red-faced, embarrassed at their childish reactions to a known fact of life.  Earthquakes happened.  Even big ones.

Cade sighed, and dropped back to his blankets.  From the other side of the fire-ring, Joshi's snores rose up to meet the stars.  Cade elbowed Finn.  "Joshi never even woke up!"  They laughed softly, rolled themselves into the blankets, and tried to get a little more sleep.

Joshi, sprawled out on top of his bed roll, snored merrily.

Most Likely to Steal Food from Other People’s Plates

Finn hunched his shoulders a fraction of an inch lower and focused on serving himself more potatoes.  He should be grateful, he knew, for the food, especially after travelling.  Road fare usually wasn't so delicious as what one would find at a feast.  But, if he was honest, he'd rather be out on the road now, instead of listening to Selia's whining about her...whatever it was she was currently complaining about.

"And you never even went to her funeral!" Selia's loud voice interrupted his thoughts, and he nearly dropped the serving bowl.  Thankfully no one glanced their way - was she only loud because she was across the table from him?  Did no one else hear her ceaseless chatter?

"I said I was sorry," he muttered, glancing at his plate.  Three potatoes?  Only three?  He was so sure he had gotten four...

"And you took my cherry pie!" Selia added, her brows twisting together.  She was only fifteen or so, but she managed to look younger when she contorted her face like that.  "That was really quite rude of you!  I know you were raised out in the wilds, but I thought your father would have taught you better than that!"

"I didn't take it?" Finn was only half-listening.  Cade, sitting on his right, was deep in a conversation with Wedar, something about swords.  On the left, however, Joshi was stuffing his face with...something red and sugary.

Finn opened his mouth to scold his little brother, but then stopped.  The look on Selia's face was priceless.  Even if it meant she thought him ill-behaved, he wouldn't correct her now.  Besides, he didn't really care what she thought of him.

Though, when he noticed, later in the evening, that his cookies were disappearing faster than he ate them, he did consider talking to Joshi.  The spifling did need to learn some manners.

This ends Part 1 - the second part will get published later, and I'll be tagging folks at the end of that.  :)  Hope you enjoyed it!

(Also, most of these seemed to be the Fëvere brothers.  No regrets.)