Nationality: He is Etruscan, by all appearances, but exactly where he comes from is unknown.
Occupation: Immortal god-king.
Religion: Oromis doesn't believe in a deity higher than himself.
Appearance and Personality:
Oromis appears to be a man in his early 30s, a foot taller than most other men, with coal black hair and burning green eyes. He is extremely charismatic, and has an irresistible charm about him; he's been known to make foes into friends just by talking to them. Surprisingly for a man supposed to be a walking god, he smiles easily, and is quite laid back. But just as his merriment is famous, so is his temperament; when angered, his wroth is frightening to behold, particularly as he can set people on fire.
Biography: Oromis's origin is shrouded in mystery, even to himself. According to his own explanation, he lived many lives for millennia, even serving the Empire as a general at one time. He never truly affected the course of history, however, until his rebellion in 3405, which saw the crushing defeat of the Tolosi, at the cost of his own life.
His second attempt at changing the world hardly went any better. At first, everything went well; The puissant Mardoch, duke of Galenave, declared him the one true Oromis, and he gathered a large following. Unfortunately, the Prophet in Tolos wasn't keen on relinquishing his temporal powers, so he declared Oromis an imposter. The civil war that ensued saw the assassination of Oromis, the defeat of the Mardochians, and their ultimate exile to the Hamrock Isles.
His return in the year 3650 was as unexpected as it was sudden. Peacefully taking power over the isles from the Mardochains who ruled it, he has announced to the world his return by crowning himself Emperor of Tverios. His hungry gaze is set over the entire world, and he will take what he desires.
Magical Artifact(s): Oromis carries the magical sword Reingunger, which sets itself on fire depending on the emotions of the wielder.
Motivation: To unite the world, and end the killing of man by man. He desires above all a just world, where no criminals can hide behind power and authority.
Nationality: Hamrock Isles by descent, spent most of her life in Tolos
Occupation: General, Grey Wind Mercenary Army
Religion: Oromism, for her own reasons.
Appearance and Personality: Claes is a surprisingly attractive woman. She is by no means a rare beauty, like one would find in courts or in great epic stories, but living a soldier's life has done less to mar her natural features than one would expect. She is well endowed, managing to stay in proportion to her more muscular, tall frame. Her face is fortunately unscarred, soft lips and large green eyes twisted by a deadly stare and a sneer of cold command. Her skin is pale, usually dirtied by mud or ink, and she is crowned by a shock of radiant red hair, long and wind-blown, unkempt and wild. Her dexterous hands are marked and scarred after a life of holding a bow, her gait wide and confident from a familiarity of command and a life in the saddle.
Claes values self-knowledge, and has lived her life trying to control herself, know her flaws and strengths and weaknesses and accomplish her goals. She is a firebrand: quick to anger, prideful and used to command, she dislikes being slighted and is prone to fearful rages. She is a woman of action, hating to be idle and bored easily, she dislikes waiting or doing nothing. She is prone to speeches and tirades, and holds everyone she meets to her own exacting standards. She cares truly for few, but for those she does she is driven to do anything in or outside her power to protect and aid. She holds grudges, enjoys revenge and petty vengeance, and has an excellent memory, especially on her failures.
However, she is aware of these things. She has worked her entire life understanding herself, and has fashioned excellent control over years of work. She is more than able to wait, to scheme and plot and save her efforts for later. She may not like it, but she can feign interest or pleasure on any number of things, and has wrangled her temper onto a short leash, capable of cold calculation over rash emotion when the time suits her. Her values never change, but she is able to take the bigger picture and understand what must be done and what must be sacrificed. Despite her disgust at the idea knows that she cannot do everything to run an army, and has learned to wrench herself from unhelpful micromanagement. She cannot make herself happy with doing things which go against her nature, but grins and bears it in the pursuit of her only true goal, no matter the situation: victory.
Biography: A third generation descendant of original Mardochians, she is racially Tolosan though did not see her homeland for almost her entire life. Her ancestors, after the assassination, did not follow their kith to the isles, being soldiers through and through. They joined the Grey Winds, learning quickly the ways of the Tolosan light cavalryman. Claes' father was born into the company, and rose in rank, eventually holding the position of executive officer. He married and sired Claes, an only child, and she grew up around soldiers, in the saddle nearly before she could walk. She learned her numbers and letters in a military context, learned archery and horsemanship and the hundred stories and songs of soldiers, a child more of the company than her actual parents. She joined when she was only 14, and had her first command by 16, gifted with a mind for tactics and battle.
When the Winds lost their command staff at the hands of outlaw assassins, Claes entered the power struggle, aided by her small group of loyal followers. Four months later, she found herself at the head of nearly six thousand of the finest cavalry in the world, at only 19 years of age, killing her last competitor in a duel. Over six years of command, she fought on the behalf of Tolosan lords and for the Emperor on more than one occasion, making a name for herself as a brilliant commander of brilliant troops, developing her own distinct style of mounted combat which has begun to draw the attention of the military sciences. She fought great victories at Scipillar and Uldon Ridge, throwing Etruscans back across the border time and again, against forces much larger numerically. With these successes, the Grey Winds have become rich and famous, and she has earned the almost total loyalty of her soldiers, many of whom would follow the standard into hell if she asked.
She heard Oromis has resurrected, and led a march across the entire content, the Grey Winds making their pilgrimage across the sea to pledge their service to the God-King. She promises wealth, status and victory to her soldiers, assuring them in the success of their new master, and they believe her, eager to earn their rewards for their fighting.
Magical Artefact(s): None.
Motivation: Ostensibly, Claes serves her Grey Winds, wanting to make her soldiers rich and successful, to earn wealth and prestige to enjoy the niceties of life. She has pledged her entire self to the conquests of Oromis, and has taken no actions to contradict this, praising his divinity and the justness of his cause. Detractors are quick to point out her thirst for glory, her sacrifice of soldiers to bolster her own prestige, and her ambition that has, on more than one occasion brought defeat to allies and subordinates, but she dismisses these as the ravings of the sore defeated.
Religion: Oromism. But a skewed slant of it. She views Oromis of definitely holy origins, she just doubts his claims to Godhood. If someone was truly immortal, then why does he keep dying? But in absence of any more conclusive proof, she deigns to worship Oromis.
Appearance and Personality:
Selena is serious, down-to-earth, and all-around, a great soldier. However, she's an even better person. Congenial, enjoyable to be around, and overall, nice, she is well-known among her group, the so-called Night Hunters, what little Special Forces the Hamrock Isles have. However, she is also very sarcastic, but she always makes the person on the butt end of the joke feel better about it at the end of it all.
She has brown hair, and lovely green eyes. Her soft, tanned skin, is complimented by freckles on her cheeks, and long, beautiful eyelashes. Not considered beautiful in the classical sense, she is still very attractive for a military woman. She is short, but don't let her stature fool you. She is very strong and agile, able to best quite a few skilled warriors in one-on-one combat.
Biography: Raised on the Hamrock Isles, from her youth, Selena wanted nothing more than to join the military, to protect her home from the outside world, and stay ready for Oromis. However, all she ever has had to do was fend off various pirates, bandits, and the occasional raiding party. When Oromis was resurrected, she was the one who did some information gathering, the one who confirmed that he was the real deal. Still doesn't mean that she'll totally believe in an immortal who died TWO TIMES.
Magical Artefact(s): Selena received a necklace, simple, made of brass, and unassuming, except when it glows green. It allows the wielder to spot any track, no matter how hidden, nor how old, as long as the wielder is looking for it. You cannot pick up residual tracks with it, but you do not need to know the specifics about the target being tracked. This ability works only twice a day, and activates by rubbing the stone with your thumb and index finger.
The necklace is the gift, handed down from Night Hunter leader to Night Hunter leader. When Selena attained the honor of becoming leader, she received it. However, it was also a final test of her ability before she was able to use it, forcing her to fight through the entirety of the upper echelons of the Night hunters. After she got it, by guile and strength, she was proven to be a worthy leader.
Motivation: Selena wishes for nothing more than to protect her home. Sure, it's dull, and sure, the people there kinda smell, but they're good people, nonetheless, and the beer is great. She will follow Oromis, because of his vision for the world, one united, free of war and strife.
Npcs: Gramorn Kellantara- The elite leader of the Messenger Corps of the Night Hunters, who always wears a black fox mask under his hood.
Maximus 'Smudge' Selfidge- The oldest Night Hunter alive, he is in charge of training recruits.
Appearance and Personality: Wolong is a slightly short man whose skin is far darker and more weather worn than the majority of Qaylu, mainly from managing to survive months out in the open ocean with nothing but sea-soaked rags to protect himself. He has since become significantly less starved and worn down than he initially appeared and in fact there's a certain level of whipcord fitness about him, but the scars of his betrayal and survival are still apparent in his appearance and the ordeal seems to have aged him more than his forty-odd years. He keeps his long grey-streaked hair pinned up in a tidy bob atop his head held by a simple wooden ring and pin and keeps a neatly trimmed beard and mustache at all possible times. His clothes these days are generally simple and serviceable if unusually neatly worn and he forgoes any sort of jewelry or adornment.
However, there are two things that are most noticeably unusual about Wolong's appearance that also mark him out as one of the secretive and isolated Qaylu people. The first is a metallic folding fan that he keeps on his person engraved with the character-writing of the Qaylu, apparently his only possession from his former life. The second are his eyes, almond-slanted and glittering with an uncannily focused brightness behind their brown irises as if at every single moment there's some hidden layer behind everything they see that only he perceives. More than one courtier in a ballroom or commander on the battlefield have found themselves the focus of those eyes, usually before they were cut down by a surprise ambush or unexpected retort.
As is the way of many Qaylu, Wolong generally keeps himself contained behind a curtain of rationality and emotional stoicism as if his emotions were stored in a little black box hidden within the fortress of his mind. He certainly has emotions as intense as any other man's, but maintains that allowing himself to be ruled by passion and feeling is a failing and that control over emotion begins first with manipulating its' expression. Even while he hungers for justice against those who destroyed his life, he tries to act only on his intellect. Wolong serves Oromis faithfully and freely admits that his master may truly be a god given what he is capable of doing, but maintains that Oromis' divinity has no impact on his own view of the Cosmos or his own reasoning, and in fact Oromis' claim to many past lives only serves to support The Dali. Instead Wolong serves Oromis not just as a means to get justice against his betrayers but also because he finds the man to be a just and charismatic ruler that he is happy to serve and because he believes that if he can guide Oromis and ensure his reign, the world will prosper because of it.
When not engaged in affairs of war or state, Chuko Wolong is a subdued but kind and affable man, concerned not only with his numerous personal studies and the welfare of the people his master rules but also hobbies of poetry, philosophy, music and art. Above all he is an avid player of the Qaylu strategy game wei-go, even attempting to get other members of Oromis' court and military to adopt the game. Though he rarely advertises as such, he's also rather skilled in rongdao a disciplined form of unarmed combat common to Qaylu. Wolong justifies the hobby by saying that he has to stay physically fit and the physical discipline helps him discipline his body and mind as well.
Biography:
Wolong was born in the isolated and hidden lands of Qaylu in the valley citadel of Zhongshu, the only son of the Chuko family, a minor group of advisers to the Citadel Lord. He was a driven and highly inquisitive child, thirsty for knowledge of any kind but other than that relatively without ambitions. His parents and everyone who knew him were convinced that he would be an exceptional scholar, perhaps even in numerous fields, but nothing more in terms of his station in life. All of that changed when he discovered the game of Wei-go. He became obsessed with the analytical and tactical aspects of the game and was soon regarded by all in his valley as one of the finest players in the kingdom. Eventually, no mere game could sate his desire for tactical conquest and he began to wonder if the strategies he employed would function on the battlefield as well as the game board. Thus it came to pass that his family used their small amount of influence to get him an officer's commission in their lord's armies, not understanding the source of Wolong's sudden ambitions but pleased nonetheless.
Minor wars of a political nature were common among the Citadel Lords of Qaylu, and to the delight of both his master and his family Wolong's brilliant tactical mind translated smoothly from war-games to war itself. Over years of subsequent conflicts Wolong won stunning victories, first with the small force under his command and then with every increasing troops as his merits earned him rank. He became known for near always emerging with shockingly low casualties outmaneuvering much larger and better-equipped forces time and again, humiliating his foes and their lords with ploys few before him dared try, until his own master became something of a region-wide power.
Wolong took no real glory in his victories and desired nothing but to further his studies in ways both strategic and academic while testing his intellect on the battlefield and providing for his family and people. However, his lord and master couldn't bring himself to believe that this officer, by that time the equivalent a general in his forces, had achieved such a meteoric rise without any hint of true ambition. So, fearful of some sort of coup, the lord of Zhongshu waited until a time of relative peace and then had Wolong secretly arrested. Fearing that the people and the army alike would revolt if their golden general was publicly executed, but also feeling that a quick death was too good for the alleged usurper, the Lord of Zhongshu had Chuko Wolong set adrift on a tiny boat in the open sea, with little to no supplies and nothing from his former life but the clothes on his back and his strategist's fan, as a reminder of his 'crimes'.
Wolong was supposed to die alone at sea, but fate and the man himself both seemed to have other plans. by collecting rainwater to drink, improvising a sail and net from his courtly clothing and using his knowledge of the weather and winds he was able to barely extend his survival and control his boat's path well enough to prevent it from sinking. He was not sure exactly where he sought to go, only that he desired to survive to see his former master pay. Eventually, his boat drifted to the Hamrock Isles and he washed up on shore weakened and humbled but alive. Thereafter, he sought out the ruler of the land and used his knowledge of the scholarly arts tactics and promises of the weaknesses of Qaylu itself to take up service with Oromis and has since become one of the God-Emperor's advisers. In exchange for his loyal service he desires his former master to be punished for his cruelty and betrayal once Oromis' armies inevitably arrive in Qaylu.
Magical Artefact(s):
Motivation: Chuko Wolong foremost desires that the master who betrayed him be deposed and pay for his crimes. Other than that he wishes to realize Oromis' vision of a world without war and strife, though primarily because such an environment would allow him to pursue his intellectual hobbies and studies in peace.
"I can hear the drums now, y'know? Nice an' loud. There's killin' ter be done an' that's a fact."
-Quote attributed to Red Myra
Name: Myranda "Myra" Tavellan [Meer-an-duh Tuh-vell-en], also known as "Red Myra"
Race: Elf
Age: 216 years old
Nationality: Whitestone Village, The Empire of Tolos
Occupation: Conscript, bandit, and former captain of the White Hands mercenary company
Religion: While she claims to worship the Tolosi gods, nobody has actually seen Myranda pray.
Myranda Tavellan is an unusual-looking elf. Standing at an imposing 6'2", the elven berserker is heavily muscled and covered in scars of every shape and size imaginable. Her lean, hungry face, which might have been beautiful at one point, is marred by three nasty scars that barely avoid her brown eyes. Half of Myranda's right ear has also fallen victim to the ravages of her bloody lifestyle, and she scratches at the scabby remnants from time to time. A tangled mass of dark brown hair frames the warrior's battered face like a curtain trying to hide some hideous sideshow attraction. The elf's nose is also decidedly crooked and her smile is full of gaps. Perhaps in hopes of mitigating the impact of her ominous appearance, Myranda is always slightly hunched yet even her shoulders, broad and powerful as they are, suggest this isn't some pampered Tolosi aristocrat or beloved elven servant. Normally, the mercenary wears a white lion skin cloak over her shoulders despite the odor of blood and sweat clinging to the ratty garment. Two long, muscular arms extend down from Myranda's shoulders and end in a pair of rough, callused hands. While Red Myra doesn't normally wear gloves, every now and again she'll produce a pair of black iron gauntlets from her travel-stained knapsack. These gauntlets have tiny bronze spikes set into the knuckles. Needless to say, being punched by Myranda while she's wearing her gauntlets is only slightly less amusing than being punched by Myranda without her gauntlets.
Moving past her small bosom, Myra's stomach is toned to the point where she appears malnourished like a wolf that hasn't hunted in weeks. Considering how often her meals consist of alcohol and whatever she can find nearby, this isn't surprising. Wide hips and powerful, long legs complete the image of an elf few people want to piss off. The sellsword can usually be seen wearing a studded leather chestpiece over a greasy linen undershirt along with black iron leg-guards as daywear. She almost always has her spiked buckler strapped to her back unless she's forced to remove it. A simple leather belt wraps around the hired blade's waist and her sheathed black iron longsword hangs from it. A wineskin, which is always full, and several pouches also dangle from the berserker's belt. Each of these pouches has been dyed a different color so Myranda can quickly find whatever item she needs. For example, her blue pouch contains an old wooden pipe adorned with worn images of prancing reindeer while her purple pouch is bursting with wraith leaves, Myranda's tobacco of choice. Last but not least, the elf's black iron sabatons appear to fall apart a little more every time she puts them on.
Myranda's personality is as unnerving as her appearance. She doesn't actively seek the company of others, but she can be surprisingly pleasant when approached. Especially if she's approached with a tankard of Etruscan ale. Courage, determination, and a love of anything crass, obscene, or irreverent make her an interesting traveling companion if not the most loyal one. Despite her boisterous behavior, however, there are times when the elf will fall into long spells of silent, almost melancholic, contemplation. Her thoughts often wander down the old, painful roads to the experiences that shaped her into the woman she is today. Still, the berserker tries to live in the moment and hates spending a great deal of time dwelling on the past. She finds her pleasures where she can whether it's the simple joy of walking down an unfamiliar road or the wonderful burn of dwarven spirits. Of course, when the opportunity for wantonness and excess arises, the mercenary is only too happy to take full advantage. The nastier and fouler the deed the more likely she is to do it. These antics notwithstanding, Myra does try to do what she believes is right. Usually.
On the other hand, Red Myra's demeanor completely changes when she gets angry or finds herself in the midst of armed combat. There are those among the elf's few friends who believe Myranda's "normal" behavior is merely a facade, hiding the truth of a woman desperately struggling to control herself. To keep herself from her one, true addiction. The addiction of shedding blood and inflicting pain on other people. Myranda might claim she's trying to be a better person, but there's always a savage joy in her eyes and a smile on her face when battle is joined. And thanks to over one hundred years of experience Myranda is an incredibly skilled, not to mention vicious, fighter. Still, rumors persist that she has a hard time telling friend from foe when she's fully enraged. There are also certain individuals who are convinced Myra has become some kind of death-seeker, waiting for the day when someone puts an end to her brutal, chaotic life. Some even suggest the sellsword is mentally unsound since she constantly talks about hearing drums when she fights. Even when there aren't any drums to be found on the battlefield. Regardless, Red Myra's deep, rasping voice has been the last thing many warriors have heard before their souls were sent howling into the afterlife.
Myranda was born in the winter of 3434 to an impoverished earthroot farmer named Eldrath Tavellan. She spent the first twenty years of her life living in her father's small shack, which was about half a day's journey from the border separating the Empire of Tolos from Coromis. Just to the north of the Tavellans' home, Whitestone Village sat as pretty as any rural painting crafted by renowned Tolosi artist, Atilian Kalivas. Young Myra always looked forward to the days following the harvest because her father would hitch the family oxen to their rickety wagon and take the year's crop to the village market. While most of the money they made was spent ensuring Eldrath had enough liquor to last the rest of the year, some of the coin went towards things like a basic primer on the Tolosi tongue and even an old, battered atlas depicting the entirety of the Empire. These items became some of Myranda's most treasured possessions, and she often dreamed of leaving the monotony of her father's farm behind. Of course, suggesting such a thing was guaranteed to send Eldrath into one of his rages, which always ended with Myranda bleeding on the floor and him staggering off to find another bottle of whiskey. Another topic the two elves never discussed was what happened to Myra's mother. Despite these moments of brutal unpleasantness, however, the Tavellans lived a simple, peaceful life on their farm and nobody bothered them much. Who would be interested in the affairs of the village drunk and his young daughter?
And then the Battle of Havendall ended with the Empire of Tolos suffering its first defeat in recent memory.
Thankfully, Whitestone Village's small size meant it wasn't drawn into the conflict. Unfortunately, the battle between the Imperial Legions and the allies of God-King Oromis would have far-reaching consequences beyond the formation of the Etruscan League. On the eve of her twentieth name day, when elves were said to have reached the "age of reason," Myranda came in from a hard day's work in the fields to find her father waiting for her, a knife clutched in his hand. Wordlessly, the old farmer pointed towards Whitestone Village and his daughter peered curiously out the window. Whitestone Village was ablaze and Myra's sharp eyes could barely make out the fleeing specks of villagers running for their lives.
One of the numerous mercenary companies hired by the remaining Tolosi highborn to guard the border separating them from the Etruscan League had decided to do some "foraging." Foraging, in this case, meaning looting, burning, and pillaging in hopes of supplementing the pittance their employers were paying them. It was like something out of a nightmare. Inevitably, the rogue mercenaries made their way south and stumbled upon the Tavellan farmstead, their eyes shining with delight as they set fire to the earthroot crop and savagely butchered Eldrath's oxen. Myranda has never spoken to anyone about what happened next, but her father was slain by Captain Kurdan Sokolov, the dwarf in charge of the rapacious sellswords. Instead of sending Myra to join her father in the afterlife, however, the captain gave her a place at his side, calling her his "lucky charm."
Thus, Myranda Tavellan joined Kurdan's Sabers, a mercenary company comprised mainly of Coromics, Tolosi deserters and traitors, and even a few lunatics. The company was being paid by a small coalition of Tolosi nobles to guard the frontier they now shared with both the Etruscan League and the Republic of Jadis to the south. Luckily, or unluckily as it were, the only real threat to the Empire was from the Jadisi since Oromis' war had been taxing on both the Etruscans and Imperials, who were content to lick their wounds for the time being. For the next thirty years, Myranda was raised by Captain Kurdan and his three hundred "loyal" cut-throats, learning lessons practical and wildly impractical unless you happened to be a soldier of fortune. Basic arithmetic, how to read and understand papers of engagement, and even the basics of single sword combat were all part of her training regimen. In the year 3484, however, the First Border War began, though it wasn't a war so much as it was a series of skirmishes between the Empire of Tolos and the Etruscan League. Each nation wanted to expand their boundaries by driving back the military forces of the opposing country. After nearly forty years of constant bloodshed, the so-called "Years of Sorrow" ended and the First Border War concluded with a draw, though there were still small pockets of resistance to be found. Kurdan's Sabers, along with the Blue Plume Brotherhood and Half Moon mercenary companies, spent another ten years locked in a vicious struggle with a group of Etruscan fanatics calling themselves the Children of God.
It was during the spring of 3550 that the Battle of Ursol's Spine occurred. Pinned down behind the ridge bearing the same name, Kurdan's Sabers managed to carry the day and ultimately crushed the Children of God completely. The losses, however, were staggering and Kurdan lost his right eye during the conflict. The wound soured quickly, and the venerable dwarven sellsword began to descend into feverish madness. Myranda had only recently celebrated her 100th name day, and she was now considered an adult in the eyes of her people. She spent the next fourteen years watching over the dwarf, who'd been more of a father to her than Eldrath, as he grew weaker and weaker. Meanwhile, several would-be usurpers attempted to wrest control of the Sabers away from Kurdan only to be cast down by their equally ambitious companions. It seemed as if Kurdan's Sabers were doomed to fracture without their charismatic leader. And then the dwarf's health began to improve, though he was still weak. It seemed as if he might pull through despite his grievous injuries.
Until, on a cold morning in winter, Myranda and Captain Kurdan met for their daily sparring session for the first time since he'd been wounded. During the bout, the elven woman "accidentally" ran the dwarf through with the black iron longsword he'd given her for her 100th name day. This marked the first time Myranda was ever referred to as "Red Myra."
Several of the older and smarter mercenaries, having decided to put aside their differences in the name of controlling the company, saw how skilled Myranda was and how intimidating the other sellswords found her. Capitalizing on this, and wanting to place a figurehead in the captain's seat so they could lead without being blamed for any missteps or losses, these sellswords claimed that Myra had "earned" the right to be called captain. To the shock and disbelief of this so-called Inner Council, Myranda proved to be a strong, decisive, and competent leader, embodying all of Kurdan's positive traits with only one major flaw. She seemed to crave violence like an alcoholic craves strong drink. Under the pretense of removing Kurdan's supporters from the company, Myra purged the Inner Council and their allies before spending the next fifteen years recruiting more mercenaries to bolster the Sabers' ranks. She also changed the name of the company to the White Hands, a reference to Kurdan's habit of "keeping his thoughts black, but his hands white as driven snow." Meaning, he'd gorge himself on fine food and drink in his captain's tent far away from the battlefield while his men died in droves. It is worth mentioning that during this period, in the year 3534, Oromis emerged once again from obscurity but Myra's power wasn't consolidated enough for the White Hands to participate in the ensuing conflict. Besides, the Tolosi nobility were barely managing to hold out against the Etruscan League so they didn't have much time to worry about punishing wayward mercenaries. Of course, the White Hands still visited any town or city they stumbled across in order to "forage" for more food, supplies, and valuable loot.
After numerous conflicts, such as the Battle over the River Tamras and the short-lived Second Border War, Myranda's new Inner Council managed to convince the elf it might be worthwhile to approach the League's leadership for work. Not only were the Imperial forces far too scattered and weak to support the White Hands in combat, but their payments were starting to come later and later. Despite her misgivings about betraying her homeland, Red Myra visited a group of Etruscan lords the evening before the Battle of the Celebron Fields in the spring of 3578. She offered to change sides during the battle in exchange for a promise to ignore the company's previous Imperial loyalties. All she wanted was a chance to prove the White Hands could be an asset to the war-torn Etruscan League and its members. They agreed. The Battle of the Celebron Fields marked the first White Hands victory as allies of the Etruscan League. They spent the next fifty years ravaging the Empire's border on behalf of their new employers, and the gold was said to have flowed like a sweet, clinking river through the White Hands' encampments. Their reputation, and that of their bloodthirsty leader, reached epic proportions with songs and tales of their deeds reaching as far south as the Orkantor Desert. Everything was going marvelously despite the constant, nagging rumors. Rumors about how Myranda would just as happily butcher her own men as she would the enemy. Rumors about how easily she'd been convinced to betray the Empire of Tolos. Rumors about drums and insanity.
In the year 3630, a young Jadisi man named Pajaan Farimi was recruited by the White Hands after their triumph during the Second Battle over the River Tamras.
There was an immediate attraction between this clever, gallant southerner and Captain Myra, especially when he managed to bring Clan Lord Alexandros Miridon of Nerwains to the negotiating table. A close friend of Pajaan's elderly father, the leader of Clan Miridon wanted to hire the White Hands to watch the eastern reaches of his lands while he focused on dealing with several rival clans to the west. They would be paid in stacks of "Miridon gold bars," which was some of the finest, highest-quality gold in the entirety of Tverios. Myranda agreed and the papers of engagement were signed. The White Hands were now responsible for protecting the eastern border of Clan Miridon's holdings from the few remaining groups fighting on the Empire's behalf. They would occasionally receive support in the form of Clan Miridon soldiers, though they would largely be left to their own devices. Just the way Red Myra liked it.
Time passed and Myranda and Pajaan became lovers. Unsurprisingly, the elven mercenary eventually found herself with child. Pajaan had recently joined the Inner Council, mostly due to his unique position as the captain's lover, and he ensured nobody took advantage of Myra's condition. Strangely, roughly three months after Elanaria was born she was never seen or heard from again. What's more is neither Myranda nor Pajaan would speak about the child's disappearance. Some mercenaries even thought Myra looked confused when asked about her child. Shortly thereafter, Pajaan became Myranda's official second-in-command, though the two often disagreed and no longer slept together. A few weeks after Red Myra's 200th name day, Lord Miridon asked the White Hands to deal with a group of Imperial mercenaries making trouble near the isolated border town of Mervyn's Crossing. Little did Myranda know both Lord Miridon and Pajaan had laid a trap for her. When the White Hands showed up, in an eerie parallel of her deception at the Celebron Fields, Pajaan and the Inner Council took command and ordered the company to kill their captain. Greed, lingering resentments over battlefield "accidents," and fear of the Inner Council convinced the mercenaries to turn on Myranda. Evidently, Lord Alexandros was a racist of incredible proportions and hated the idea of his family's gold in the hands of a wretched Tolosi elf. The Clan Lord had convinced Pajaan to turn on his lover in exchange for a promise to help him claim the captain's seat. Aided by a regiment of Clan Miridon warriors, the White Hands chased Myranda through the thick, twisting foliage of the nearby Grimwood. Before vanishing into the deepest part of the forest, Red Myra managed to cut off Pajaan's right hand. He would ever after be known as Pajaan "Goldenhand" Farimi since he replaced his missing appendage with one made of Miridon gold.
Disgraced and pursued, Myranda fled west and boarded a schooner bound for the home of the Mardochians, the Hamrock Isles. Surely the White Hands wouldn't chase her to a place where they had no power whatsoever. For a few years, the elf tried to find any islanders willing to hire a scarred sellsword, though her reputation hadn't followed her from the mainland. She was a nobody. Desperate and unwilling to return to her roots as a simple peasant, Red Myra turned to banditry in order to survive. As the years passed, the name "Red Myra" was once again spoken in hushed voices by merchants and those they paid to guard their caravans along the rocky roads of the isles. A monstrous brigand, some claimed, who ate the flesh of her victims. A murderer without conscience. A fighter more savage than any in the known world. Inevitably, at the age of 216, Myranda was finally caught by the City Guard of Taranidorn and clapped in irons. Instead of being hung immediately, however, she was given a choice. The choice any criminal captured in the last few years has been given. Swear her loyalty to the newly returned God-King Oromis or die. It wasn't really much of a choice for someone as steeped in blood as Myranda. For now, she's joined the God-King's army as a conscript but her true motives are anyone's guess.
Magical Artifacts: None
Motivation: Myranda seems to be consumed by her desire to destroy the two men who betrayed her: Clan Lord Alexandros Miridon, her most recent and most treacherous employer, and Pajaan "Goldhand" Farimi, her former lover and second-in-command. Since these turncoats both serve the Etruscan League, Myra figured joining Oromis' forces meant she'd have plenty of opportunities to deal with them. It was also better than the alternative, which was death by hanging. At any rate, once she kills these two traitors Myranda supposedly plans to regain control of the White Hands and lead them to victory alongside the God-King's other allies. The truth is much simpler, however. Myranda wants to die a glorious death in battle because the last one hundred years have shown her the awful truth. She's become addicted to killing. She cannot stop. Myranda knows the chances of dying while in Oromis' service are quite good. In truth, she's counting on it.
THE FORLORN HOPE PLATOON
-Trooper Anden Tahrez-A Tolosi sellsword serving in the Gray Winds mercenary company, the youngest member of the Forlorn Hope platoon, found Aksel Dehli while out on patrol around the Four Sisters, currently taking the halfbreed north to speak with General Astra
-Trooper Vashara Maladar-An elven sword-for-hire employed by the Gray Winds mercenary company, born in the distant and savage kingdom of Xochimilco, sister of Tlaloc Maladar, a skilled tactician and capable fighter who takes after her father, led part of the assault on the Four Sisters watchtowers, has a tattoo of a rearing serpent on her face, seems to be less arrogant than her older brother
-Trooper Stantus "The Shank" Folant-A hulking Tolosi sellsword working for the Gray Winds mercenary company, led part of the assault on the Four Sisters watchtowers, is always ready with a quip or dirty joke regardless of the situation, few people know why his nickname is "The Shank" though some claim he was once a prisoner in Parthage's Ivory Tower
-Trooper Viator Tabex-A thrifty and cunning Tolosi hired blade serving the Gray Winds mercenary company, is willing to do anything in the name of getting rich, worships the Tolosi goddess of wealth and prosperity known as Teverash the Golden, born in the City of Kings to a Tolosi mercenary and a camp follower, when his father left to relive his glory days he pursued him only to discover he'd died in battle as a member of the Gray Winds, ended up joining the Gray Winds company in his father's place
-Trooper Typhus Rommath-A Tolosi sword-for-hire working for the Gray Winds mercenary company, one of the best riders in the Forlorn Hope platoon, a good friend of Major Aliden Bayaz and grew up with him in the village of Halfhill, despises elves because his home and family were destroyed by the Margrave of the South's cannons when he was young, has a reputation for raping female prisoners and has been transferred from one platoon to another, unthinkingly loyal to Major Bayaz and hates Myranda for laying a hand on him
-Trooper Tlaloc Maladar-An elven sellsword sworn to serve the Gray Winds mercenary company, born in the distant and savage elven kingdom of Xochimilco, has one blue eye and one green eye, brother of Vashara Maladar, he and his sister were only recruited by the Gray Winds a short time ago, believes Tolosi elves are weak and worthless since they haven't been forced to endure life in the southern jungles, has a tattoo of a tree with many branches covering most of his face
-Trooper Vladimir "The Artist" Mogdan-A gray-haired dwarven sellsword employed by the Gray Winds mercenary company, originally hails from the nation of Coromis and is a devout worshiper of Geishra the Flame God, acts as the Forlorn Hope platoon's cook and can make delicious meals with few ingredients, his belief that battle is an art and his axe acts as a razor-edged paintbrush has earned him the nickname "The Artist"
-Trooper Larius Pyral-An elderly Tolosi sellsword in the Gray Winds mercenary company, Captain Elias has asked him to serve as Lieutenant Tavellan's bugler and personal assistant, has a very loud voice and is one of the finest archers in the Forlorn Hope platoon
ASSORTED GRAY WINDS MERCENARIES
-Major Aliden Bayaz-A Tolosi major in the Gray Winds mercenary company, was raised by his grandfather after his father was slain by bandits, rightfully blames Myra's White Hands for the death of his grandfather during the Siege of Fort Angharad
THE HAMROCK ISLES
-Berwyn Maddox-A muscular Mardochian convict with a huge nose, a member of the Sixth Penal Battalion who mysteriously lost his right hand at some point after Oromis' army reached Etruscia's western coast
-Captain Patrice Tressida-A Mardochian soldier who used to serve as the warden of Blackwall Prison on the island of Foghaven, currently leading the Seventh Penal Battalion as they aid the Forlorn Hope platoon in reaching the City of Kings, might be poisoning her convicts with athnac berries in hopes of "purging their iniquities" before they die
-Captain Shen Longfoot-A Quaylu mercenary acting as an assistant to Captain Patrice Tressida, owns a fine takana blade and is a talented swordsman, leads the Sixth Penal Battalion and might be involved with the supposed poisoning of the convicts under his command using athnac berries
-Captain Gilliam Kraven-A Mardochian thug who worked for Patrice Tressida at Blackwall Prison before joining the God-King's army, a cruel and obnoxious brute who enjoys tormenting the red sashes of the Fifth Penal Battalion, might be responsible for using athnac berries to poison the criminals in his battalion
-Captain Angus Dimbick-A Mardochian nobleman and son of Lord Osmund Dimbick, born on the island of Foghaven in the Hamrock Isles, captain of the Blade of God, a wealthy and pompous aristocrat who is more concerned with his reputation than learning to run a ship, has impeccable taste in footwear
-Helmsman Sheldras "The Dour" Farnath-An elven sailor who serves as Captain Angus Dimbick's manservant and helmsman, has been a part of the Dimbick family for most of his life, more involved with keeping the Blade of God afloat than his young master
-Dagmar Colwen-A Mardochian innkeeper in the city of Taranidorn, owns Colwen's Bunkhouse and slept with Myranda Tavellan after a night of excessive drinking
-Thond "Sweet Thond" Kassis-A Jadisi thief forced into serving the God-King's armies after being caught by the Taranidorn City Guard, a skilled tiles player and a friend to Myranda Tavellan, part of the Seventh Penal Battalion assisting the Forlorn Hope platoon as they make their way towards Tolos
-Padric Roche-A Mardochian barkeep in the city of Taranidorn, owns the disreputable Loyal Hearts Tavern and claims to serve the finest ale in the Hamrock Isles
THE WHITE HANDS
-Captain Pajaan "Goldenhand" Farimi-A Jadisi sellsword and member of the White Hands mercenary company, Myranda's former lover and second-in-command before he betrayed her at the Battle of Mervyn's Crossing, currently leads the White Hands and serves Clan Lord Alexandros Miridon of Nerwains, Myranda cut off his right hand during the Battle of Mervyn's Crossing, he replaced his hand with one made of solid gold, rumored to hold a sila stone known as the Stone of Memories
THE ETRUSCAN LEAGUE
-Clan Lord Alexandros Miridon-A Nerwainish clan lord with holdings in the southeastern region of his peoples' kingdom, leader of Clan Miridon and one of a few men who know the location of a mine containing the highest quality gold in Tverios, a ruthless and dangerous racist who will stop at nothing to protect his territory, has signed papers of engagement with the White Hands mercenary company and often lends them aid in battle
THE EMPIRE OF TOLOS
-Zenobia "The Blade" Quithas-A red-haired half-elven sellsword currently living in the citadel of Bucephal, Myranda Tavellan's first lover
THE DEAD
-Captain Kurdan Sokolov (Deceased)-A dwarven hired blade and leader of the Kurdan's Sabers mercenary company, served the remnants of the Empire of Tolos for several years, led his men on a "foraging excursion" that resulted in the destruction of Whitestone Village in the year 3464, killed Eldrath Tavellan and destroyed his farm but spared his daughter's life, Myranda became Kurdan's "lucky charm" and came to view him as the father Eldrath had never been, was wounded during the Battle of Ursol's Spine in 3550 and lost an eye during the conflict, managed to recover from a severe fever brought on by his injuries, was killed by Myra during one of their morning sparring sessions, Myranda was covered in Kurdan's blood after this incident and became known as "Red Myra"
Occupation: Former high-ranking spymaster and assassin of the Amethyst Cartell
Religion: Silaes worships wealth above all else, but if he sees a profit in it he can pretend to believe any faith.
Silaes was raised in the Amethyst Cartell where the only moral virtue is wealth. As such, Silaes cares little for the lives or well-being of his fellow man, and often finds satisfaction in the profitable suffering of others. However he is not entirely selfish, as he recognizes the value of loyal, like-minded, men and women. The loyalty of which he earns through generous payment for a job well done.
Silaes is, by choice, a difficult to recognize individual. He bears no distinguishable scars, he wears only the garb most befitting of the people around him, and though he rarely speaks his voice is soft and difficult to discern from those of the peasantry whom the high lords and their spies pay little heed to.
A patient man, Silaes is well aware of his own strengths and short-comings. He is well-known by his clients as the assassin that gets the job done on his own time, as he has a preference for waiting in the shadows for the optimal time to strike. However, as the customer is always right, Silaes will rarely shy away from a rush job... for a price. While he's no longer officially their leader, those who worked in Silaes' network still often quote the motto he coined: "Extra risk comes at extra cost."
Silaes knows little of his origins. He could have met his mother and father hundreds of times, or none at all and he still would not know the difference. From as early as he could remember he has been in training to be an assassin of the Amethyst Cartell, and the few questions he did ask about his family fell on deaf ears. Silaes learned early on not to question his past, but rather to plan for his future.
As Silaes began to prove himself as a loyal spy and assassin to the cartell, he became proficient at observing the ever churning cogs of politics and power, as well as making small adjustments to make them churn in his favor. A throat slit here, a small bribe there, and soon Silaes found himself at the head of a loyal network of spies, smugglers, and assassins. He even earned his own magical artifact as a symbol of his status.
Alas, it would not last, as he would be usurped by another as ambitious as he. He should have seen the signs, when his lord requested that he specifically take the job to assassinate the God-King Oromis. But who was he to refuse a such a profitable job? It was only after his departure with his four most trusted assassins that a bird flew to his ship with a message from a spy still loyal to him. A replacement had stepped forward to fill his spot, and was making arrangements to have Silaes ambushed and killed should he return successful from his suicide mission.
Upon receiving the news, Silaes and his loyal men began planning their next move. Eventually they came to the conclusion that in order to regain their stolen wealth and power, their best option would be to join the God-King rather than attempt to fulfill the assassination request. He spent the rest of the voyage sending out as many messages as he had birds to carry them, attempting to regain what he could of his once extensive network. While only a fraction of his network has remained loyal, he still has in his service a number of smugglers, spies and a few assassins that all remain hopeful that Silaes will return to the power he once held, and resume paying them the generous fees he once did.
Magical Artefact(s): Upon reaching a high rank within the Amethyst Cartell, Silaes was granted an artifact as a symbol of his status and import within the Cartel. However, beyond the function of status symbol, the silver goblet he possesses serves only one other purpose: to heat the drink within it to the desired temperature. Silaes often enjoys hot tea on the go in a way few others can, but aside from that his goblet awards him no other advantage.
Motivation: Silaes dreams of accumulating enough wealth to retire to a secluded estate in which he can have as much food, wine, and women as he could possibly desire delivered to him, so that he would never have to leave his land again. A dream he nearly had accomplished before his exile.
Appearance and Personality: Aksel is a good looking young man with fine blonde hair and gentle, elegant facial features. Being of mixed heritage, Aksel has an exotic look, ears slightly pointed and eyes a fusion sharp blues and greens. He is lean but not lanky, standing just under six feet tall. Though not especially muscular, Aksel's body is athletic and capable.
Aksel is a kind man with a strong conscience. His dominating emotions are humility and faithfulness. Loyalty has never been a problem for him, and, although not much of a brawler, he has always made himself known in any fight to protect the ones he loves. He feels love passionately, and the heavy personal loss he has experienced has taught him to value everything in his life presently. Aksel devotes himself to his every endeavor wholeheartedly from his dedication to the Tolosi Pantheon to his determination in mastering the fishing rod. He is kind if not charismatic, not born to lead, but valuable by anyone's side.
Biography: Albin Avalusk was an elven nobleman, well connected and respected across the entire Empire of Tolos, but especially in his home in Bucephal. Never did Albin appear to put a single foot wrong, and, as it always seems to do, suspicion and malice began to grow out of Albin's envious peers. Soon, efforts were made to uncover any bit of indiscretion from Albin's past or present. It was one such indiscretion that uncovered the powerful elf's one flaw, that of the heart. Albin Avalusk lost everything he had painstakingly built his entire life once his relationship with a certain human woman was made public. Instead of giving up his heart's desire to save his livelihood, Albin absconded to the Kingdom of the Nerwains with his new wife, Britta. Albin and Britta were able to build a new life for themselves – a simpler one. They even gave birth to a lovely daughter, Ina. Living in this sparsely populated new land amongst hardy foresters and herders, the family of three – now living under the surname Dehli – the family took care not to make any new enemies; however, discrimination followed them here as well.
The Nerwains were an ordinary folk, accustomed to their normal lives and uncomfortable with change. A new family consisting of an elf and a half constituted change. The family's house was stormed, the parents slain and the adolescent daughter despoiled. Ina Dehli was left to die amongst her parents corpses, but under the veil of death, new life was forged. Ina took pregnant, birthing a son, Aksel. Aksel was raised as a healthy child, understanding the implications of his mixed heritage and respecting the elven culture of his grandfather. So enamored was he with his elven blood, Aksel decided to relocate back to the the Empire of Tolos and dedicate his life to the Tolosi pantheon. He was Brother Aksel Dehli, an unassuming, humble man whose faith was strong despite his genetic limitations – the human in him.
Though once again, the Avalusks looked to recreate themselves and live in peace, their past followed them. Aksel was honest about his past only to his brothers, but his faith in them was not returned. News reached the very same members of the elven aristocracy – now old and living fat on their lifetime of luxury – that had conspired to drive Albin and Britta out of Bucephal. Fearing retribution from their returned son, the nobles moved to eliminate the last of the Avalusk family. Aksel and his mother were assaulted in the streets in plain daylight. Assassins murdered Ina before her son's eyes, and not a single passerby stopped to help. Unable to do anything to protect his mother, it was all that Aksel could do to flee back to Etruscia. Yet unable to escape his elven persecutors, Aksel arrived in Tolos to find that they had preceded him. Tolosi attackers stabbed him and left him to die in the streets. Before he could bleed out, however, Askel was arrested and thrown into a jail in the Holy Quarter. Wounded, struck by the reality of his loss, the young monk sits in the dungeon, unaware of the workings behind the scenes, powerful allies presently unknown.
Magical Artefact(s): [not yet in possession] A stone ring, shaped from a Sila Stone, with the ability to power in any form – from heat to electricity to physical force – and release it twofold upon impact.
Motivation: Looking to sort through his disillusionment with his Tolosi religion and mixed heritage. Trying to find his place in the world as a mutt, an undesired by both humans and elves.
Name: Sir Kohl Walesa
Nationality: Etruscan Human
Occupation: Knight-Captain of the Zantyric Order
Religion: Etruscian
Appearance and Personality: Kohl has pale skin and sunken, sallow eyes the color of charcoal. He has high cheekbones and a pointy chin and nose. Though not extremely attractive by any means, an air of wealth and fine breeding clings to him like musky perfume on a whore. He keeps his umber colored hair long but pulled tight into a bun. From years of stern training, Kohl's tall body is covered in lean, corded muscles.
Kohl is pompous and arrogant, and he respects nothing but power and wealth. He can be rude, but is mainly tactful. When harm is meant, however, the knight makes is clear, his mastery of language only thinly veiling insult. Though it makes him few friends, Kohl's confidence and competence produces many allies. He is a devout Etruscan, often seen praying and worshipping.
Biography: Raised in a wealthy family wholly obsessed with maintaining the purity and power of their bloodline, Kohl has known privilege his entire life. He is not a racist, but surely an elitist. It was not hatred of elves that drove him into the Zantyric Order, but his confidence and total belief in his superiority over the long eared enemy elevated him quickly in the knights' ranks.
He is young still, but, thanks in part to his proficiency with the sword and lance, and mainly due to to his and his father's proficiency with politicking, Kohl rose to the rank of Knight-Captain over a few more experienced and expected. Throughout his entire life, nothing has ever hinted to Kohl or his family that there was any possible thing standing between him and his goal of eventually becoming the Grandmaster to finally stamp out the Tolosi Empire and its false Pantheon.
Magical Artefact(s): None
Motivation: Driven by his zealous righteousness to win the Holy War against the Tolosi Empire.
Religion: Despite being raised in a strict Shamanistic household, Norman rejected the fundamentals of Shamanism in his early teens. In the return of Oromis, Norman “converted” to Oromism as a way of expressing his undying loyalty to the God-emperor. However, in private, he does not follow any major religion. Instead he believes that Oromis, while powerful, is not a God, and the true divine beings of the world have yet to reveal themselves.
Norman inherits his parents olive-tone skin, which makes him stand out amongst his predominantly pale Etruscan peers. Norman was physically fit as a youth, something which has carried well into his adulthood. He stands a few centimeters shy from two meters, making him appear as a giant among others. His broad shoulders complement his massive appearance, altogether making him an excellent authoritative figure in his position.
His facial features are fairly synonymous of other Samni, with bold cheekbones and long black hair. A concentration of facial hair stems from his chin and lower cheeks, but is kept within a few centimeters in length.
Norman is a prestigious individual. He carries his pride with him, and rightfully so. While he looks out for his people and his subordinates as a father would his children, Norman's personal goals can, have, and will get in the way. Beside that, he is a loyal and trustworthy soldier and a capable and competent leader.
Norman was born and raised in the Hamrock Isles after his ancestors fled along with the rest of the Mardochians. He is an ethnic Samni, but still retains that he is a Mardochian before anything else. In his youth, he was raised as an athlete with the intention of being a soldier in the Mardochian Army as his family's way of giving back to those that had protected them over the years.
When the time came, Norman refused to join the Mardochian ranks as a soldier, and instead applied as an officer. Quickly rising in the officer ranks, Norman soon found himself in control of a detachment of 1,500 Mardochian soldiers stationed in a garrison close to the sea that separated The Etruscan league from the Hamrock Isles.
He made his first mark on history when his garrison successfully fought off an invading force of more than 7,000 Etruscan soldiers, utilizing everything from blockades of fire, log barricades, and even sharpened branches. At the request of Norman's subordinates, the detachment was expanded into a full brigade, which became colloquially known as “Brigade Voldemaras”. To this day, Brigade Voldemaras continues to serve as an elite unit amongst the Mardochian Army, and in preparation for the invasion of the Etruscan League they were trained in infiltration and assault tactics developed by Norman himself.
When Oromis returned, Norman was quick to display the might of his brigade, which had been neatly assembled to celebrate the resurrection of their emperor. Although he will not admit it, Norman's primary objective is to be remembered in history as the best general alongside Oromis. Unfortunately, this desire went off to a bad start when the night before the invasion he and several other high-ranking officers fell ill from the consumption of contaminated foodstuffs. Although the brigade left with the rest of the army and traveled across the sea, its leaders remained immobile, and the brigade was forced to wait at Grandell until they recovered. Now that Norman has made a full recovery, he and his army are ready to begin their conquest of their old foes.
Motivation: Norman seeks to write his name into history as the finest strategist and leader beside Oromis himself. This desire drives him more than any other, and in many ways consumes him.
