Einar; the patriarch; Head of Yngvi's particular branch of the Carta and Yngvi's father. A thing Yngvi doesn't know but maybe does because Yngvi has many fathers depending on the situation and what it might call for and isn't the head of a thing the father of it all the Maker is the Father of the Chantry or something? A father is a complicated beast at the best of times and when his word is law in the house and much of the undercity with so much blood under his nails, it's difficult to know how to ever see him as a father.
the fathers; Not his father but the dwarves overseeing much of everything beneath Einar's eye and thus overseeing Yngvi that it's the same as the mothers. They helped to make the decisions and convey instruction to all the rest about investments. Also the ones to strip the sentiment from them all and to teach everyone that loyalty to the Carta comes before all other things and that loyalty is a disease, a pestilence, a plague and that it strangles you good and proper. You can hold two opposite things in your heart of hearts at once and have them both be true. That's how life is.
the mothers; A collection of stern women that instilled a healthy fear in Yngvi from an early age as well as a respect for women who can get things done with the odds stacked against them. They were instrumental in keeping children alive when they were the children that were meant to be kept alive with what little there was to be had, not women of sentiment but when has sentiment done anything except get you killed? The number of mothers varies whenever he tells his stories but that's the way of the world.
the uncles; Come and gone so many times that Yngvi loses count of them, the coarse hands and coarser mouths of the Carta. Many have fallen to the Champion, wheat to the scythe. Taught a boy lessons and taught a boy harshly. If a boy made a mistake then a boy didn't eat and losing meals is dangerous in the dark when you're already small. Usually some of the rougher lessons in how to beat someone until it doesn't bother you or squaring off to someone bigger than you, how to take a beating and still laugh like you haven't felt a single blow.
the aunts; A different beast to the mothers and many of them fell same as uncles did before the Champion before Yngvi was gone with Asher Hardie. Aunts taught lessons just as harsh as uncles but not the same. How to sneak, how to lie, how to weave a tale nice and neat and intricate, how to conceal as many things as your little hands could carry on your person with not a guard or Templar (though what's the difference in Kirkwall) any the wiser when it comes to it?
Hulda; the smuggler; The Casteless who spoke about it first to Yngvi as a boy in a way no one else ever had, a woman who organises a greater chunk of the lyrium smuggling in and around the Kirkwall area. Wicked grin as sharp as the blades that ruined her face years ago.
the cousins; It's like with frogs. There's a lot. Then less. Then a few. And you can always hold two opposite things at once in your heart if you're Carta; that Yngvi has no siblings because he ate them and that Yngvi has one sibling and that it's Gunnar when Gunnar isn't his brother. But there are always children in the Carta, they're always looking to invest after all.
the old ones; Old and grey, skin so aged it might crumble to dust or turn to stone itself. A rare thing to live to a great age for anyone in Kirkwall but to make it to that age in the Carta, so many of them branded though time topside even in the Undercity has faded the marks is not to be sniffed at. Dwarves of great wisdom if you can suffer them but still. To be respected as all the old are. At a distance. Listening to every sixth word.
Gunnar; the brother; In truth, actually Yngvi's cousin the way these things are counted by the ones with all the names and bloodlines, they were worthy of investment so they ate the rest of their siblings and survived. Escaped Kirkwall together to become Boneflayers. something of an alchemist but wields a sword and shield. Usually in charge of maintaining good relations. The only soul Yngvi was ever honest with in those days.
'Brunswick' (Snorri) A name ripe for puns, he changed it early and kept his head down, stays out of much of the politics of it all but he'll share his gossip evenly and that's the best you can hope for as the prodigal son isn't it.
Jim Effin' Jim. Goes for the knees. Complains a great deal. There are many Jims. His Sunday name is Jimothy, swear to whatever gets you going.
Kirkwall Carta; Einar's Branch
Head of Yngvi's particular branch of the Carta and Yngvi's father. A thing Yngvi doesn't know but maybe does because Yngvi has many fathers depending on the situation and what it might call for and isn't the head of a thing the father of it all the Maker is the Father of the Chantry or something? A father is a complicated beast at the best of times and when his word is law in the house and much of the undercity with so much blood under his nails, it's difficult to know how to ever see him as a father.
the fathers;
Not his father but the dwarves overseeing much of everything beneath Einar's eye and thus overseeing Yngvi that it's the same as the mothers. They helped to make the decisions and convey instruction to all the rest about investments. Also the ones to strip the sentiment from them all and to teach everyone that loyalty to the Carta comes before all other things and that loyalty is a disease, a pestilence, a plague and that it strangles you good and proper. You can hold two opposite things in your heart of hearts at once and have them both be true. That's how life is.
the mothers;
A collection of stern women that instilled a healthy fear in Yngvi from an early age as well as a respect for women who can get things done with the odds stacked against them. They were instrumental in keeping children alive when they were the children that were meant to be kept alive with what little there was to be had, not women of sentiment but when has sentiment done anything except get you killed? The number of mothers varies whenever he tells his stories but that's the way of the world.
the uncles;
Come and gone so many times that Yngvi loses count of them, the coarse hands and coarser mouths of the Carta. Many have fallen to the Champion, wheat to the scythe. Taught a boy lessons and taught a boy harshly. If a boy made a mistake then a boy didn't eat and losing meals is dangerous in the dark when you're already small. Usually some of the rougher lessons in how to beat someone until it doesn't bother you or squaring off to someone bigger than you, how to take a beating and still laugh like you haven't felt a single blow.
the aunts;
A different beast to the mothers and many of them fell same as uncles did before the Champion before Yngvi was gone with Asher Hardie. Aunts taught lessons just as harsh as uncles but not the same. How to sneak, how to lie, how to weave a tale nice and neat and intricate, how to conceal as many things as your little hands could carry on your person with not a guard or Templar (though what's the difference in Kirkwall) any the wiser when it comes to it?
Hulda; the smuggler;
The Casteless who spoke about it first to Yngvi as a boy in a way no one else ever had, a woman who organises a greater chunk of the lyrium smuggling in and around the Kirkwall area. Wicked grin as sharp as the blades that ruined her face years ago.
the cousins;
It's like with frogs. There's a lot. Then less. Then a few. And you can always hold two opposite things at once in your heart if you're Carta; that Yngvi has no siblings because he ate them and that Yngvi has one sibling and that it's Gunnar when Gunnar isn't his brother. But there are always children in the Carta, they're always looking to invest after all.
the old ones;
Old and grey, skin so aged it might crumble to dust or turn to stone itself. A rare thing to live to a great age for anyone in Kirkwall but to make it to that age in the Carta, so many of them branded though time topside even in the Undercity has faded the marks is not to be sniffed at. Dwarves of great wisdom if you can suffer them but still. To be respected as all the old are. At a distance. Listening to every sixth word.
Gunnar; the brother;
In truth, actually Yngvi's cousin the way these things are counted by the ones with all the names and bloodlines, they were worthy of investment so they ate the rest of their siblings and survived. Escaped Kirkwall together to become Boneflayers. something of an alchemist but wields a sword and shield. Usually in charge of maintaining good relations. The only soul Yngvi was ever honest with in those days.
'Brunswick' (Snorri)
A name ripe for puns, he changed it early and kept his head down, stays out of much of the politics of it all but he'll share his gossip evenly and that's the best you can hope for as the prodigal son isn't it.
Jim
Effin' Jim. Goes for the knees. Complains a great deal. There are many Jims. His Sunday name is Jimothy, swear to whatever gets you going.