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Formaroth Part 2: Throne of Lies

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Formaroth Part 2: Throne of Lies

Johannia’s First Tract, Exerpt

…Yet for all that, it is not a crime to act in self-defense. Saint Klebrithy may have been subject to a martyr’s death, but Devi Marius¹ was a warrior who fought for the faith. This we call a holy, or a crusade. And just as Devi Marius fought his crusade against the heathen, we must now fight against the heretic. This is no easy task. The heretics have spread deep into the Church, and who commands even the ear of the King. Yet we are not aggressors. Only against the oppressors are we to fight, and we must accept all others as our brothers and sisters. We are unlike the heretics who stand in the Grand Temple in Nyhem and do their preaching with a sword and rack.

Yet remember most of all that we remain King’s men. It was not by righteous Alasdair’s hands that the slaying of so many of our brethren came, but by that beast Lycaon. He once masqueraded as our hero, but in fact he was merely a devil in disguise, who delighted in egregious and unnecessary massacre of our brethren. Now this devil with his silver tongue has taken the ear of the King, and has forced the King to condemn us by spreading foul lies and by intimidation and threats. By destroying the heretics who occupy our Church, and bringing down Lycaon and his “holy order” we may cleanse both the body and spirit of this land. Repeat this, my friends, when the wayward call you heretics and traitors.

Johannia,

[1. Marius was a great warrior, and one of the main leaders of the Church when it became the state religion. He claimed to be a Devi (an incarnation of a deity) of Timtos, a claim recognized by the Church.]

A Meeting without Lycaon

Lycaon was away at the moment, but his knights had gathered nonetheless. In a way they were able to talk more easily, for without his presence their words would seem less binding. Nonetheless, their words would no doubt make their way to Lycaon eventually, and to Lycaon they were still more like friends than subordinates. Everyone had made their way to the Holy Order’s headquarters, to a room where they would not be bothered. Sir Glynda had made her way there as well, though she had been too late to arrive in time for the riot. Much was on their mind, as there was much for them to think about at a time like this. And it was not a time of small, nor was it a time to discuss the game of kings. Now more than ever seemed to be a time for change, for revolution. It could be felt in the air, or so they thought.

“It was ill news to hear that lady Felise has fallen,” Sir Glynda said.

“Indeed,” Sir Oswyn said. “It has weighed heavily on all our hearts.”

“But it must also weigh on our minds,” Sir Daeleth said. “Such events, along with Raeya’s death, have made it prudent that Lycaon choose a successor. That role has fallen to you, Glynda.”

“Me?” Glynda said. “Sir Daeleth, you are the one Lycaon’s oldest friend among us, his closest lieutenant, and his highest ranking one. Compared to you I barely know him.”

“And for all that, I could never do it, and we all know it. I was a mercenary, and a criminal, and some other things. I still am, in my own way. But I am not the sort that can lead Holy Order,” Sir Daeleth said. “I’m sure Lycaon’s told you lot he doesn’t expect to live to see the end of this. When that happens, you’ll be in charge.”

“But I am not like Lycaon,” Sir Glynda said. “I am no visionary. Lycaon is like a like a light, like…a beacon. I cannot be him.”

“You will not need to be, if all goes according to plan,” Daeleth said.

“And the rest of you…?” Glynda looked around herself, wondering how the other two felt about this.”

“I am but a soldier,” Sir Oswyn said. “And if Lycaon has chosen you, that means he has placed his trust in you for this task. I shall remain where I always have been.”

“It is too dull for me,” Sayer said. “I will continue to serve Timtos through my sword.”

“Very well,” Glynda said. “I am surprised, but this duty I shall accept wholeheartedly.”

“Very good,” Daeleth said. “Now, there’s one more message you all need to know. Our task in Nyhem was mostly a failure. Whatever Alasdair has given us, Lycaon suspects that he shall be uncooperative in the near future. Lycaon will be leaving as soon as possible, and we shall be leaving immediately. With a new leader in the Church, along with our brigade, we may be able to improve our situation regardless. Oswyn, you shall remain here in Nyhem and continue our efforts in this province. Sayer, the heretics have been becoming especially thick in the east, so you are being sent to oversee those regions. You know what to do. Glynda, you shall go south. The Church has powerful allies over there, and your diplomatic subtleties will be needed. Lycaon shall return home, to our base’s national headquarters. It is safer than practically being a hostage of the King.”

“And what of you, Sir Daeleth?” Oswyn said.

“I will go south, of course,” Daeleth said.

“Into Blackwell land?” Glynda said.

“Lycaon is fond of putting me in charge of all the most dangerous operations,” Daeleth said. “I am not too worried. Their King is fearsome, but Beatrice is the one of his children I truly feared. His heir is a pompous ass like Alasdair, and I am not afraid of him. He is clever, cunning, but Alasdair is more so, and we have survived just fine here. Still, I will have to be careful.”

The Holy Debate

Rumors that had reached Lycaon told him that there were many that believed he was in charge of the Church. He hoped that there were many important people who believed such, as it would certainly be a great bargaining tool from him. Yet Lycaon could tell that those who thought so severely underestimated the Church’s unique ability to factionalize in even such dire times as these. There had perhaps been no time in which the Church had been more corrupt and powerless than it was now, and there was no doubt that would be readily apparent in the upcoming election. Lycaon had been able to make inroads, and had created a coalition of reformers, but even so this was not enough to ensure that he would be able to get the right candidate confirmed as High Priest. However, he did have a plan. Currently the bishops had gathered to select a new High Priest or Grand Cleric within the Grand Temple. Even though it had been heavily damaged during the riot, the symbolic significance it held could not be ignored; every leader of the Church since it became the state religion had been elected here. Even so, Lycaon himself could not be present. Only bishops could now enter the Grand Temple, and to defy this order was to incur an automatic excommunication. Lycaon for now would have to rely on the conniving of others, and hope that his luck had not run out.

Within the Grand Temple sat Bishop Irenaeus. He held a specific honor among those present, as the Grand Temple came under his ecclesiastical jurisdiction. Even so, he could still only vote once, and he was unsure of whether his side could win. Lycaon’s loyalists made up a majority in the chamber, to be sure, but in order to elect a new High Priest it would be necessary to gain at least a 2/3rds majority. Whether this could be achieved remained possible, but the results were still unsure. Irenaeus sat among his allies, and the same could be said of all those present. It was as if they were parties or factions, and these factions were in turn separated into cliques which represented specific interests or groups.

Irenaeus sat among those who were sometimes called the Moderates, strong advocates of substantial reform in the Church who had been rallied by Lycaon, but who were nonetheless quite conservative. Corruption was widespread within the Church, and this faction was very far from being an exception. However, Lycaon had promised them many things, and convinced them that the only way the immortal and inalterable Divine Church could survive is if it could make substantial reforms without sacrificing the traditions and wealth of the Church. Coin and promises of the continuance of their wealth was persuasive, but the threat of the heretics was far more so. They were the largest faction here, but they would not be enough alone. Among their leaders foremost was Irenaeus himself, but there was also Oriela of Ashcroft, the famous theologian, and the firm, intelligent Henri Saint-Simon.

To the left were the so-called Reformers, the most liberal, some said heretical, faction of the Church’s bishops, led by the theologians Valence Canrobert and Ramiro of Uzgob. They believed great and essential reforms were necessary for the Church to survive, and often accused of being Secularists, those who favored the authority of Kings at the expense of the Church. They certainly did believe that the authority of King Alasdair was clear, as he had been supported by the Kings and lords of Formorath (or so they said). Notably, they were unlike others in the Church in that they had no problem with mages, and even wished for better relations with the Circle, and accused the anti-mage cliques of being akin to Johannianism.

Close to them were the moralists led by the respected reformer Bernarda Avicebrol, who worked closely with the Reformers due to their shared belief in the necessity of great reform. Unlike them, however, they thought that a return to an ancient and austere piety was necessary, they were not so friendly to mages, and they scoffed at the reasonings of the university schoolmen. Philosophy and the liberal arts does nothing to make one closer to the gods, after all.

Then to the right sat the Conservatives, who were unmoved by any words of reform. Any hint of this, they said, was simply a sign of the corrupt times, and they decided they would wait until such corruptions passed by and would diligently oppose any reforms. Of course, they were without a doubt the most corrupt faction. Though all claimed that they were merely opposing false innovations into the Church, many simply wished to retain their wealth. Their leader was the implacable Andronicus of Orog.

“With the authority invest in me by my position as Speaker, I pronounce this session opened,” Irenaeus said. “We are here to choose among us a new leader. So, my friends, prepare to cast your vote for a new Grand Cleric or High Priest. It is quite simple.”

Yet it was anything but simple. There was much whispering among everyone. How the voting would go was still undecided.

Turning to Irenaeus, Oriela told him, “There are no problems among our cliques. It should be unanimously for you among the Moderates. As for our allies among the Reformers, we shall yet see.”

Later, Irenaeus was approached by Valence Canrobert and Ramiro of Uzgob. They wanted to talk, and judging from their serious expressions Irenaeus knew that they would not be as easy to convince as his fellow Moderates.

“Honorable Irenaeus,” Valence began. “We admire Lycaon and his message of reform very much…”

“But we have many questions and misgivings that still have not been dispelled,” Ramiro finished.

“I can assure you I shall do everything in my power to combat corruption and reform the system,” Irenaeus said. “And I can only point to my record and history, and have it speak for itself.”

“Does it, my esteemed colleague? Yet it was reported that you were over-tithing¹ here in the Grand Temple,” Ramiro said. “And all for your own benefit.”

“The state brings no funding for the Church, and this holy shrine has fallen in disrepair,” Irenaeus said. “Without assistance from the Grand Cleric, raising the tithe was the only way in which I could keep the Grand Temple in an acceptable state.”

Yet Ramiro scoffed at this suggestion. “Among other grievances, you voted to have Johannia killed. You could have prevented the motion for her death from passing.”

“She was a heretic, and a vile one,” Irenaeus said.

“And now, my esteemed colleague,” Valence said. “We have an unnecessary conflict which has only created discord among the faithful. All because of unnecessary haste towards one unimportant heretic.”

“My friends, this is no time for quarreling,” Oriela said. She knew exactly what Valence and Ramiro were doing. They were not too fond of Irenaeus, and perhaps for good reason. Yet that was not the issue now. “We have discussed all this before, with me, with Lycaon, and with Saint-Simon. You have grievances. Yet we cannot decide things at our leisure, you know that. We are part of coalition, and compromise is of the essence. Or perhaps you would like the Conservatives to have their way? Maybe even see Andronicus himself become our High Priest.”

“My esteemed colleagues, I recognize your grievances,” Irenaeus said. “And I shall swiftly deliver reform upon the Church.”

“You have our votes,” Valence said, annoyed. “For all our sakes, I hope that Lycaon’s faith in you is well-placed.”

Irenaeus was calmed, slightly, though annoyed at their unnecessary argument. However, he knew that the worst was yet to come. Now they had to deal with the Moralists and Traditionalists. They would accept no call for quiet negotiations, and so it was only through debate that any agreement and compromise could be reached with the Moralists. The Moralists were nominating their own candidate, the unblemished yet puritanical Thomas of Legon, while the Traditionalists rallied around the incredibly wealthy and corrupt Ruggiero of Akki. The Traditionalists knew they couldn’t win, but were trying for a compromise in their favor, while the Moralists were hoping that their candidate, after sufficient debate, could gain traction. The Moderates extolled the virtues of Irenaeus’ candidacy, while the Liberals stayed treacherously quiet. Bishop after Bishop made speech after speech. After two hours things were becoming more and more heated, as the bishops became more and more tired. That was when Andronicus of Orog stood up, which resulted in one of the most infamous exchanges of the night.

“In this holy chamber we select our new leader, and I will not have it defiled by the intervention of outsiders,” Andronicus said. “That man Lycaon has made a mockery of the Church by swaying the minds of the bishops, much like a seducer charms her prey after the trap is set. But we are the Church, we are an edifice that is immortal, that belongs to kingdom or dynasty, but to the gods themselves. Thus, we ought not to be seduced by their talk of so-called ‘reform.’ For how can the divine, which is already perfected, be improved. If it is changed, it is only made inferior. And this Lycaon, this lover of mage-”

At this the Liberals erupted into jeers.

Andronicus continued. “He would sell us out to none other than the Circle! And who else has done the Church as much harm as they? Already Lycaon has made, without our approval, an ‘official’ Church agreement with his Majesty’s new favorite mage-”

As he went on about his dislike of Lycaon and how he sold them out to the mages, boos emerged from the Liberals which only intensified as he went on. Yet he continued.

“-The Circle has since its beginning served as the Church’s enemy, and even now they are always undercutting us. We have long since learned that their mages are not to be trusted-”

“Heretic!” one of the Liberals shouted. The shadow of Johannia now towered over every discussion of magic in the Church.

“-I will not be silenced! Even if it is the death of me, I will defend this holy edifice with all my might! There are many of us who do not appreciate the ” Andronicus said.

As things intensified it seemed as if Andronicus would tossed from the stage by force. Things had reached the level that it seemed inevitable that the bishops would ultimately resort to violence. Compromise was the furthest thing from anyone’s mind at the moment. It was at that moment that an obscure bishop, Clovis of Telmarion, arose to speak.

“Is this how Bishops of Formaroth behave? Are we no better than children? In times of trouble we ought to debate, and through insight and understanding come to a decision. We are not to act like common criminals, who settle our debates with our fists. Esteemed colleagues, if you have any wisdom you shall behave yourselves at once! What shall posterity think, when they find that the Church now elects its leader through a brawl? If that should become the case, then indeed we are truly lost. So, my friends, calm yourself, and see to it that the gods are honored for this auspicious event. But I know tempers are not easily cooled, and that even now you are still unsure who among us ought to become our leader. So let us retire for the night, and return in the morning when our heads are clearer.”

“That will not be necessary, my esteemed colleague,” Bernarda said. “There can be little doubt who shall be able to lead the Church. Amongst our own factions we will never agree, but if one comes soaring down like an eagle upon us we cannot help but bow. I, for one, nominate thee for our new High Priest!”

That was the turning point. Irenaeus was very nervous, and when Valence concurred with Bernarda he knew it was all over. He felt tired, enraged, and especially betrayed, but it did not matter. Bernarda, it had seemed, had utterly defeated him. Seeing this Clovis of Telmarion appear, to the Moderates he appeared the perfect compromise candidate. At least he was clever in speech, and he seemed to know how to bring unity. Thus the Moderates concurred with the Liberals in supporting Clovis, and chose to abandon Irenaeus as well, leaving him without any supporters. Only a few moralists remained loyal to their original candidate, Thomas of Legon. Thus, though the Traditionalist remained obstinate in their opposition, this unknown bishop was elected handily. Those who remembered it later were themselves surprised at what had happened. Some supposed it could only have been a miracle from Jykher himself. Others, however, saw only that Bernarda, despite supposedly having been eclipsed by Lycaon and stripped of most of her influence, had once again emerged victorious within the Church. Irenaeus was ashamed and humiliated, and he could not imagine he would ever indulge in politics again. Thomas of Legon felt betrayed as well, and could barely contain his rage. He left without saying a word, intent on having nothing to do with any of this ever again.

~

Yet the outside world was still unaware of what had happened. Lycaon stood not far from the steps of the Grand Temple. He was surrounded by holy soldiers adorned in the heavy plate and mail of a knight, but they were not of his Order. Lycaon stood next to Grandmaster Octavia Celestine, the leader of Order of Saint Zacarias. Lycaon of course did not have a monopoly on Church military orders. His own was new, while that of Saint Zacarias was very old. Under order from the Church, they were formed during the Elven Invasion in order to repel the foreigners. They had then fought with unflinching courage and loyalty for their country and their gods, but today were greatly reduced. Though their austere piety remained, they had become increasingly irrelevant, relegated to guardians of temples, churches, and monasteries, and occasionally as a mercenaries. During King Heylot’s reign they had almost been completely eliminated while in service of House Mandarass in the Great Civil War. However, they were still alive and well in the Southern Alliance. Lycaon knew that in the future he would need their support, and so he had invited them here.

It was about that moment that a messenger from within the Church out, and he shouted, “We have a High Priest!” There were cries of jubilation, and those that had them threw their hats into their air, creating a raucous sight. It was certainly a day for celebration. Lycaon wondered the result had been. For all the influence he had tried to build in the Church, this was the one day that he was blind. Yet then the messenger shouted, “Make way for our new High Priest, High Priest Clovis III!” Adorned in the vibrant and opulent robes and the crown of the High Priest, Clovis emerged from the Grand Temple with a look of power and authority around him, though the fact that figures such as Mildred wore the same robes. It was not Irenaeus, his own candidate. Nonetheless, there was no change in Lycaon’s expression. Octavia looked over at him.

“I’ve never heard of him before,” Octavia said. “Was this your doing, Lycaon?”

“Even I am not all powerful,” Lycaon said. “It is a surprise that such a surprising figure would become High Priest, but the gods clearly have spoken, and they have offered us a leader.”

“And we shall diligently follow them,” Octavia said.

Octavia was supremely suspicious of him, but Lycaon knew that for the time being he would not need to worry about her loyalty. She was loyal to the Church, and of course to strengthening the Church, his own goal. More importantly, he was thinking of the results of the election. In truth, it was not a surprise. He had no idea who Clovis was, or where he came from, though in time he would. However, when he heard the hagiographic account later during the day he doubted it would surprise him in any great deal. The bickering reformers would reluctantly rally around Irenaeus, who would fail to gain sufficient support, yet would prevent any traditionalist candidate from gaining traction. Only a strong compromise candidate, one not tied down to any faction and who made a strong impression, would emerge. Lycaon presumed that was this Clovis.

1. A tithe is the income of the faithful that is voluntarily, yet mandated by holy doctrine, given to the Church. Usually it is 10% of the income of the faithful. Over-tithing refers to when it is set higher. This is not forbidden or illegal, but is very controversial, and many in the Church regard it as a particularly egregious act of corruption and greed.

The Exodus

Things had gotten far worse than she could have ever had anticipated, yet somehow things had gotten quiet. Rhodanthe for the time being had been staying in a quiet inn. Everyone in there was a believer, and considering that she was still alive she supposed none of them were spies. Even so, things were bad. No one talked especially loud, but Rhodanthe had heard all sorts of rumors. Apparently the King had sided with the Church, and that anyone who was a “heretic” would die. Rhodanthe didn’t know a whole lot, but she knew enough to know that that was very bad. She was getting anxious. Her problem wasn’t that she might end up getting hurt. She had gotten plenty hurt already, and it wasn’t as if she expected that this would be an easy job when she took it. No, what was making her anxious was that now she was sitting around. She still had a job to do, and it didn’t involve her waiting for the King’s men to finally catch on come knocking down their door.

“Come on, you all!” Rhodanthe said. “We can’t just keep sitting here, twiddlin’ our thumbs, whisperin’ about this and that here and there.”

“Rhodanthe,” one of the serving-women began. “It’s frustratin’, I know, but that’s how it’ll be now.”

“You’re all fine with that?” Rhodanthe said. “You’re fine with livin’ out your lives in fear out here, hopin’ that yer’ not the next one on the King’s chopping block?”

“Whaddya suppose we do, young lady?” one of the men said. “We ain’t soldiers, just men. We can’t fight. We’ve all seen what happen when ya’ do.”

“No, we can’t fight,” Rhodanthe said. “But we might well be able to leave.”

This couldn’t technically be allowed right now, but Rhodanthe had a feeling it’d work out if things worked out well. She couldn’t say that they couldn’t kill them all. That was exactly what happened in the riot, for instance. However, though Rhodanthe wasn’t sophisticated she thought things might be a bit more complicated than they appeared. Lycaon, he was very bloody, and he’d probably have them all put to the sword, no questions asked. That’s what he did before. But the King was a different person. Maybe he’d be different. She was Uzgob, she knew they didn’t call him the Snake for nothing, but this was all they had. If they stayed their doors’ would be knocked down one by one, and everyone knew it.

“Would if we could, miss,” one of the men said. “None o’ us want it t’be like this, but what choice we got? Do you really think we’d jus’ be able to get up an’ leave?”

“The best plan we got,” Rhodanthe said. “Maybe we survive a little longer if we stay, but mark my words, we’ll be picked off one by one by the king’s men. This is the only choice we got now. We gotta hope that the King’ll let us be. We’ll be out of his city and out of his business. We’ll head south. King’s got no power there, so we should be safe there for now.”

“If I ever heard anyone else tell me that I’d say they were insane,” the serving-woman said. “But you’re a prophet. If there’s someone we oughta listen to, it’s you.”

“Well, I’m more like a part-time prophet anyhow,” Rhodanthe said. “But if you’ll follow this part-time prophet I promise you all that’ll defend each and every one of ya to the death.”

However, one more thing was needed for them to have any measure of success, and it all depended on the barman behind the counter. He was Olivier, a brewer, a bartender, a smuggler, and the pillar of the community, at least around these parts. And everyone knew that he was an atheist, not that it mattered too much. His support would mean more than anything for Rhodanthe.

“And how about you, Olivier?” Rhodanthe said. “Will you join us?”

“My brother was killed by Johannia’s men in the riot,” he said as he cleaned a pewter mug, his voice showing hesitation and anger. “But my wife and daughter were killed by Lycaon’s. Count me in, prophet.”

“Then we’ll be quick as we can,” Rhodanthe said. “Come nightfall we might not be able to leave. Who knows?”

~

Rhodanthe was not afraid. She was standing in the front of a large crowd of people, all of whom had chosen to follow her out of the city. She never could have imagined it. It seemed incredibly illogical, that anyone would chose to follow a sixteen year-old girl from faraway Uzgob, but word seemed to have spread that she was a prophet. She didn’t question the truth of that aloud, but she couldn’t be sure she believed that herself. What mattered now, however, was for them to all get out of Nyhem. Perhaps one day they would be able to return. Rhodanthe wished so, but a voice within her knew that they would never see this city again unless it was for them to be tried. She was an outsider. She could never understand how much this city meant to these people. At this moment a thought went into Rhodanthe’s mind. Only a few days ago Rhodanthe had entered this city, and she had been dazzled. Now she could only think that it was dirty.

“My friends!” Rhodanthe was shouting as loud as she could. “This is a sweet moment! This is the time we make our lives!”

That was all that needed to be said. They had definitely taken everyone by surprise. Thousands were leaving the city of Nyhem by the gates, and Rhodanthe was the one leading them out. No one was stopping them. Rhodanthe had apparently called her cards right this time. No one laid a hand on them as they walked out of the gates of Nyhem and into the Sypius Plains. Where they would go now was unclear, but Rhodanthe thought she might try her luck in the Southern Alliance.

Formaroth Part 2: Throne of Lies

Lycaon Issorat

Name: Marquis Lycaon Issorat

Age: 36

Gender:

Sexual Orientation: Straight

Position: Grand Master of the Holy Order of Saint Elenor

Many years ago Lycaon founded the Holy Order of Saint Elenor in honor of the blessed saint and martyr of the same name. Though originally only a knightly order, and knights still dominate the organization, the order has allowed non-knights to join the order as well, transforming them into a more typical Holy Order. Lycaon’s goal is, as a pious believer in the gods, to restore the Church’s former power and glory. He knows that the only way to do this is through the King and the high nobles.

Personality: In public life Lycaon plays up his reputation as a hero, and acts friendly, amiable, and helpful with all that he congregates with. This is partially the reason that the poor treat him like a saint and hero. The other part is that he not only listens to them, but actually helps them. However, like a true saint he is never emotional, and though his words are passionate, like a true saint his expression remains stoic save for the gentle smile he wears on his face. The masses have never accused Lycaon of insincerity. Perhaps this is due to their ignorance of many of his previous actions. In court he is always as polite as possible, always remaining calm, and presenting himself as an upstanding man of chivalric virtues. It is important to notice that Lycaon is not boisterous or animated, but calm and agreeable. He is trying to be seen as a paragon of chivalry, saintly and unconquerable, not a jovial fool. It is not rare for him to unnerve people. No doubt this limits any charm he may have.

Lycaon himself knows he is not a saint, and does not concern himself especially with the veracity or depths of his actual goodness. He is in fact far more ambitious than he would have most believe. After having sat on the sidelines for so long, he is now ready to begin holding real influence. He understands that drastic measures will have to be taken. However, his chief concern right now is not becoming King. Rather, his current wish is to restore the power of the Church to its original position. Lycaon knows that that is no easy task. The Church has effectively fallen from favor for a long time, and the current Church is decrepit and corrupt. However, because atheism or monotheism (Lycaon has read that, scandalously, some philosophers have taken this latter position) has not been allowed to take hold, Lycaon believes the Church can regain its old position. Unlike many other nobles, Lycaon is a genuine believer in the gods. Despite this, he does not follow everything the Church preaches. He finds the idea that one cannot engage in sexual intercourse on feast days and on service days to be ridiculous, and does not follow it, just like everyone else.

Though Lycaon knows that he is no saint, as the masses believes, he does not think that he is misleading them too greatly. Any misdeeds he does he either brushes off as unimportant or as necessary sacrifices for a greater future. He is not an artificial man, and actually believes that he has many noble attributes in himself. Though his morality his certainly suspect, he does genuinely believe that he is moral, though he has not studied the matter, and believes he has done and will do nothing which makes him bear any great burden of guilt. He is very confident in himself, and flirts with the idea that Timtos himself favors him. Though he knows his physique is not comparable to many others on the battlefield, he is confident in his own skills to demonstrate his superiority, and show his inner strength. For what it’s worth, he is genuinely loving towards his wife and his family.

Lycaon does value the people, but he generally does not think about them in the way in which they would wish to. He often thinks of them in terms of religion. Lycaon, a warrior for the Church, would naturally be aided by an army of the faithful, which are the ever-pious masses, and he understands just how powerful a tool they can be, especially if there is popular discontent against the ruling monarch. His intentions for aiding the poor cannot be said to be altruistic or even truly to their benefit, as the people of Nyhem have not improved their state of living at all since Lycaon came to help them. Lycaon privately admit that he has learned some things from the masses, even though he is above them in all aspects. He has observed that though they are pious worshippers of the gods, they are not high-strung, prudish, or puritanical, but rather quite the opposite. He has observed that of all the types of people in the world, the poor are without a doubt the least corrupt of all, and that their indomitable spirit in the face of hardship and adversity ought to make any noble grudgingly nod his head in grudging respect.

Lycaon has genuine bravery, and will not shirk away from fighting. He has fought at or near the frontlines in numerous battles, even though it has resulted in a number of injuries in the past.

Additionally, Lycaon has moderate or liberal opinions of magic and mages. He has no problem with either mages and magic, and believes that mages should live without persecution and the Mage’s Circle should continue to be given the state’s support. He thinks that there is no reason to be suspicious of mages, and that they hate black magic just as much as any non-mage.

Weakness:
Though Lycaon declares himself to be strong, he is actually of lower-than-average physique when compared with the average knight. He is quite insecure over this fact, and hates the very idea of being overpowered in any way. Though the thought angers him, it also frightens him.

Lycaon has a weakness to women, and not just in the traditional sense. He, for some reason, cannot help but find them naturally innocent and pure. While this does not mean that he trusts every woman, it does mean that he will trust them when there is real no reason to.

Lycaon normally remains calm, but there is one thing he simply cannot abide. If someone attacks his war record and calls him an incompetent commander he will become so enraged that he will be unable to keep his calm. Perhaps he would ask them for a duel.

His extraordinary calmness and stoicism tends to make some uncomfortable with him.

Appearance:



Lycaon wears standard and state-of-the-art heavy plate armor for battle. Though it is polished and shiny, and fit for the noblest of men, it is also unadorned with jewels or gold, and is fit for battle. He does not only wear his armor in battle, however. When he congregates among the people he is always wearing his shining armor, which simply adds to their view of him as a saintly chivalric hero. Even in court he will wear his armor, both for intimidation and to make him appear as more a military man than a church man. When it is improper for him to wear his armor, he wears the proper attire of the military officers.

His face is clean-shaven, and his hair long and pale. Though he no longer has the beauty he once had in his youth, he remains handsome, and his face still has signs of his beauty from youth. For a knight he noticeable few muscles, but still has greater physique than regular people, though it is not as if such a thing could be noticed through plate armor. He has a number of scars, most notably the remnants of a gash below his cheek, but the greatest of his scars is the remnants of the wound inflicted by a war-axe inflicted in the Battle of Uzgob.

Background:

Lycaon was born the eldest son of Duke Percival II of the Issorat Dynasty, whose family had faithfully served the Du Paraquettes for nearly two centuries. Being born into the high nobility, Lycaon was given every luxury, and in return he had to both learn the strict manners of courtly life and meander through the cutthroat politics of the nobility. Not even children were free from the intrigue of the court, especially when their father was so closely connected with a king. So he spent his childhood in luxury, trying as hard as he could to stay alive. His childhood is considered to have come to an end when he was ten years old, when his father began to have him trained as a proper heir. He was put under the tutelage (at least in education) of Hanot Plasait, who had extensive as a soldier and a mercenary, and taught him martial arts, swordplay, and archery. His wife, Yzebel Plasait, taught him in rhetoric, oration, and poetry. She failed in the last one.

When he was fourteen, a peasant uprising occurred in one of the counties of his father’s duchy, and Lycaon was given a regiment of soldiers and sent to crush it. His role was mainly a formality, a peasant-born officer doing the real commanding, but it helped to establish Lycaon’s reputation as an able and noble young commander. It was not until after this that Lycaon was actually instructed in strategy, by a retired general, Count Ernst Harnish, who had previously served for decades as a general. Soon after he returned from crushing the revolt, Lycaon realized he had grown incredibly weary of the intrigue of the court, and hastily left for the capital. His father disapproved, but Lycaon was able to convince him when he spoke to him of how much safer he would be in the capital against assassins.

So Lycaon left his home of Linsdorf at the age of fifteen for Nyhem, taking Ernst Harnish, Hanot Plasait and his wife Yzebel wife with him. Though he arrived at Heylot’s court when he first arrived, he was hesitant to return, as it was quite clear that the King was mad. He stayed active in the lavish affairs of the nobles, but for the most part was an unremarkable presence, and his greatest achievement during this time was avoiding the attention of the mad tyrant Heylot. He remained quiet, and spent a considerable amount of time reading (Chanson de Geste mostly) and perfecting his martial arts. He used his considerable wealth to donate to the Church, marking his first contact with the Church in Nyhem, and established him as a friend. As a result, he created close ties with members of the local Church of the capital, and began to meet regularly with a priest named Farseth. Though Lycaon knew him to be corrupt, he was knowledgeable, so Farseth began to teach Lycaon religion and theology. Lycaon was enthusiastic and learned much, though he was always to be far from a theologian.

When he eighteen he was briefly recalled back to his home in the Duchy of Linsdorf, as his father, Duke Percival II, was concerned that his heir was still unmarried. Percival made it clear that he wished to marry his cousin, Felise of Dagensbourg, who was renowned for her beauty. However, his father overturned his request, and was instead told that he was to marry Pylia Thaner, the daughter of a powerful and rich nobleman. However, Pylia instead married the heir of a wealthy Telmarian duchy, with Lycoan being passed over. So Lycaon was allowed to marry Felise of Dagensbourg, though not without silent accusations that he wasted the opportunity to create an alliance with another noble house. He decided to stay at Linsdorf for the time, and this state of affairs remained for two years, when he was nearly assassinated. The killer-for-hire managed to sneak into Lycaon’s bed while he was sleeping, and stabbed him. The wound was far fatal, and although the official story was that Lycaon valiantly beat the assailant into submission while injured, the truth is that he screamed and a guard heard his scream and killed the assassin with his pole-arm. The plot was traced back to none other than Lycaon's own younger brother, Raimbaud. Lycaon was infuriated when he was only exiled, not executed. When Lycaon recovered completely, he announced that he was going to be relocating to the capital permanently, and would be taking Felise with him.


Felise of Dagensbourg

Once he arrived, Lycaon not only continued to be a generous and beloved benefactor of the Church, but also did the unthinkable of going among the populace. These two were intimately connected, as the Church was intricately connected to the people. If the clergy are the generals of the Church, then the people are the soldiers. This made Lycaon very popular among the commoners of the capital. Nobles lived in what seemed to be a world apart from the peasants, and normally treated them with disdain whenever they did happen to come across the masses. Because Lycaon not only walked among them and spoke to them, but also offered them aid, he was seen to them as a hero, and after months and eventually years passed they began to love and adore him. Though the last years of King Heylot the Mad would hardly seem to be the time to be causing such a stir, Lycaon was himself unusually loyal to the crown, and repeatedly spoke to the masses of loyalty and stories of brave knights who had unconditional loyalty to their king, so he was not considered a threat. During this time he was far from only engaging in charity with the poor. About four months after Lycaon returned to Nyhem, Yzebel Plasait, who had given Lycaon all of his mature intellectual education, became gravely ill and died, and Lycaon mourned her deeply. However, Lycaon moved on. He travelled back to the Duchy of Linsdorf, and founded an Order of Knights, called the Holy Order of Saint Elenor, in honor of the famous saint and martyress, and Lycaon’s father granted him a March, making him a Marquis, enhancing his prestige. A number of knights came from Linsdorf, while others were “holy warriors” with connections with the Church. The chief reason knights joined the order was that it brought financial stability and connections with the Church, as Lycaon had intricate and intimate relations with the Church.

When tempers finally rose and the country seemed to be on the warpath, Lycaon was a consistent loyalist to King Heylot, as mad and tyrannical as he was. When the Remonnet-Manshrew Civil War began, Lycaon fought on the side of Remonnet against House Manshrew. He fought with distinction in the war, bringing alongside his order of knights along with him. The Order experienced high casualties, Hanot Plaisat himself being killed in battle, and as result Lycaon opened the order to include more than simply knights and regular nobles, welcoming many who worked for and with the Church especially. Lycaon participated in the war, and was injured a plethora of times. At the Battle of Uzgob, Lycaon served as a commander and held a general’s rank along with his friend and mentor Ernst Harnish, who also served as a general. Lycaon, initially on the offensive, eventually had his position overwhelmed when the battle turned against the loyalists. Lycaon did not despair, however, and held out for such a considerable amount of time that the opposing regiment feared this would have an effect on the whole of the battle. However, eventually the Manshrewists charged Lycaon’s center and knocked Lycaon from his horse, and overwhelmed Lycaon himself. Lycaon, after engaging with the enemy in combat, was greatly outnumbered and eventually received a clean hit to the chest by a battle-axe, which pierced even through his thick breastplate of plate. Lycaon’s knights quickly surrounded themselves around the commander, carried him away, and promptly retreated. Though Lycaon was injured, it was only really a minor injury, and he would live to fight another day. Ernst Harnish himself was not so lucky, and was killed in battle.

After King Heylot was killed by Andrew Manshrew, Lycaon was driven into the countryside, and he promptly retreated to Sypius. Soon after he recovered he was attack by the forces of Patrick de Reimer, and although he survived he would never forget the horror of the battle his Order faced there. To this day Lycaon harbors a personal grudge against House de Reimer. Nonetheless, peace finally came when Patrick took Nyhem, Andrew Manshrew capitulated (at least in Lycaon’s opinion), and John Remonnet became King. After enthusiastically supporting John Remonnet as the new King, Lycaon faded from any sort of prominence.

He did not disappear, however. He knew that despite the strange victory and continuation of the Remonnet dynasty, a new order was emerging. He did not find this odd, as such a thing had happened under every monarch. However, Lycaon suspected that he still had powerful enemies, and would have to lay low until it was tenable for him to actively return to the royal court. However, Lycaon did not cease to going among the people. Now years have passed since the war’s end, and Lycaon, having gone among the people, spoken to them, and having aided them in their plight, has become something of a saint and a hero to them. The war caused the Order of Saint Elenor to grow rapidly, and in the post-war period it has only continued to grow. With his rising prominence, Lycaon’s ties to the Church have only grown, and Lycaon now has personal connections to the Grand Cleric herself. Lycaon has since began to rejoin the royal court, but he comes not as an aristocrat or heir of a duchy, but as the chivalric Grand Master of an order of knights and holy men.

Skills:

Swordplay: Tier 5 - Expert
Lycaon was taught by Hanot Plasait, veteran soldier and his martial teacher, starting when he was only ten. He has since had plenty to improve his skills, as he has had over twenty years to practice, and used his skill when he participated in the Civil War.

Other Weapons: Tier 7 - Average
Hanot Plasait gave Lycaon thorough training, teaching Lycaon how to handle other types of weapons, and not only the sword.

Hand-to-Hand Combat: Tier 7 - Average
Lycaon is knowledgeable and skilled in martial arts. However, this undercut by the fact that many on the battlefield tend to have greater strength and muscle than him.

Horsemanship: Tier 3 - Master
Lycaon is extremely skilled in horsemanship, and has successfully tamed a unicorn. This unicorn, by the way, only adds his mystique among the populace.

Strategy and Tactics: Tier 4 - Adept
Lycaon was taught strategy by Ernst Harnish, a former general, and distinguished himself in a number of battles in the Civil War. Nonetheless, he has suffered a number of defeats, most notably in the Battle of Uzgob. It is worth noting he has never served as the head of his own army.

Intrigue and Cunning: Tier 5 - Expert
Lycaon was born and raised in a world where it was necessary to outmaneuver one’s rivals in court politics. Even one’s very life was often at stake. Year after year of this have made Lycaon well-accustomed to the intrigues of the court.

Theology: Tier 8 - Rudimentary
Lycaon has received some instruction by a knowledgeable clergyman in theology. This has given Lycaon knowledge about his religion and allows Lycaon to follow the conversation and argument of a theologian, but not more.

Oration: Tier 4 - Expert
Yzebel Plasait’s intellectual training has allowed Lycaon to cultivate considerable oratorical skill. Unlike some orators, he is not merely fiery and bombastic. Though he knows how to be a polemical and powerful when necessary, when he speaks he tends towards a soft, but definitely not quiet nature. This has aided him greatly, both with the higher classes and with the masses.

Poetry: Tier 10 - Poor
Lycaon is poor at poetry.

Other Characters

Sir Daeleth

Name: Sir Daeleth Brucas

Age: 47

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Position: Commander of the Holy Order of Saint Elenor

Personality: Daeleth is rough around the edges; he has a tendency to be brash and impulsive in normal life. He has little patience for the manners and illusions of aristocratic society. This is due his lower-class, criminal upbringing. However, in military matters he is different, having a natural affinity for military tactics that has resulted in a natural ability as a commander.

Weakness: As it was mentioned, he is impulsive. This occasionally steeps into his tactical skills as well. He is unable to hold himself well in court.

Appearance: Though he is an older man now, Daeleth still highly resembles his old self. He has long black hair, and somewhat pale skin. He often wears his suit of iron armor, which is adorn with a thick fur cape in the back, for he feels at home in his armor.

Backgroud:

Daeleth was born in the city of Nyhem, the son of two young urbanites. Both his parents died when he was very young. This was not unusual, for the living conditions were so bad. He grew up an orphan, a hard life. He knew that if he were to survive he would have to do what was necessary, and so took to a life of crime. He began with petty theft, and then the thefts got larger. This is eventually turned to robberies and mugging. Having made a living off of crime, he began to make his way into the seedier districts of the city, where Daeleth first began his ties into the criminal underworld. He became a thug for hire, helping out in illegal operations until one mission-gone-wrong resulted in Daeleth committed a murder. It is unlikely that an investigation would have ever been launched, but Daeleth was guilt-ridden from the act.

The first chance he got he joined a mercenary Corp, The Iron Immortals. In those days war had come to Formath. Civil War between King Heylot and Manshrew’s forces had emerged, and Iron Immortals fought on the side of the rebels, and were notorious for war crimes. Daeleth was rapidly promoted due to the fact of his natural cleverness, and due to the fact that many of the officers in the Iron Immortals were being killed. In a battle against the Order of Saint Elenor the Iron Immortals were decisively defeated. However, Lycaon subsequently absorbed the Iron Immortals into his own order, and since then Daeleth has been one of Lycaon’s top lieutenants.

Skills:

Swordplay: Tier 5 - Expert

Other Weapons: Tier 5 - Expert

Tactics and Strategy: Tier 5 - Expert

Fenick of Uzgob

Age: 55

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Homosexual

Position: Monk, Hermit, Ascetic

Personality:

Fenick has a very fiery soul. He is never afraid to speak his mind, and cares little for those claim to speak with authority. He has the soul of a poet, and the voice of an orator, so people flock to him when they hear him speak. He is outspokenly and constantly puritanical, constantly chastising others, whoever they may be, from deviating from what he sees as the proper morality. However, he is clearly also half-mad at the very least. He has a tendency to ramble and speak in riddles, and believes that the goddess of life herself and the prophet constantly visit him, imparting wisdom to him. He is kind and grateful to those to who favor and follow him, imparting sagely yet often incomprehensible advice, but is rude and chastising to those who criticize him.

He is a dedicated ascetic who lives out in the wilderness of the desert, living off of wild berries and bugs, and drinking only water. He fasts often, going days without food, and sometimes without sleep, often experiencing religious ecstasy as a result. He lives alone in the desert, only occasionally having company, this company being visitors who wish to gain wisdom from this strange desert hermit. He abstains from all pleasures, such as good food, excessive sleep, and the pampering of the body with lavish clothing, but he regards the worst of all the human pleasures to be sex. Fenick would gladly say that he has never engaged in such an ill practice. As regards Fenick’s other opinions, he despises what is called the Church for their opulence and immorality.

Appearance:

Fenick has a haggard and scruffy appearance. He is skinny, and with little hair on his head except for his mustace and beard. He was simple, rather worn clothes.

Background:

Fenick was the eldest child of a noble house of moderate importance in Rathikun, the Verinaia, and from the time of his birth was chosen to eventually inherit his father’s considerable wealth and land. Fenick’s early life was a comfortable one, where he was spoiled with gifts from his loving parents, and was surrounded by friends. His life changed not long after his eleventh birthday, when suddenly a spark came out from his hands. Fenick was surprised and afraid, and found himself unable to stop the fire from coming out, and by the time he was calmed down and the magic ceased coming from his hands a quarter of his family’s manor had already succumbed to flames. The Verinaia would have to build a new one. Fenick apologized profusely. His father forgave him, but it became obvious to his father that he would have to send him to the Circle.

Fenick’s departure was not honestly the most heartfelt. They sent him off quickly, as if he was going off on a vacation. His parents both found this sort of departure normal. They had both been sent away from their families fairly early in life in order to get an education. When Fenick first arrived at the University he was nervous and out of his element, even though he had considerable talent at it. That was until he met a fellow mage apprentice, Simon, who was three years older than him. Simon befriended him, and helped Fenick to learn to adapt to the new, unfamiliar environment in the Circle. As a result, they became the closest of friends, and often studied together.

Years passed, and Fenick focused his studies on destruction magic, and demonstrated great talent and ability. The only problem was that he absolutely hated it. Fenick would look at the peace in the Circle’s gardens, and would then think of the destruction that his magic had brought, and would despair. Nonetheless, he continued his studies and his life at the Circle, because he saw no other choice, and because he had Simon by his side. When Fenick was sixteen years old, he confessed to Simon that he was in love with him. Simon was unsure of what to do, and could only reject Fenick. Fenick understood, but could not bear to stay in the Circle, since he felt like he was throwing his life away there.

Soon after, Fenick managed to escape from the Circle, and decided to go to the very opposite extreme. Lately, Fenick had been going through a religious phase, and wanted know more of the gods, and he wanted to be rid of his life he experienced in the Circle, which he had hated. So he saw no choice but to suppress his birthright and renounce his existence as a mage, and go to the Church. He joined an order of monks located at St. Carmya Monastery, headed by Abbot d’Oleron. D’Oleron discover who Fenick had been and was particular hard on him. However, it was not only d’Oleron’s harsh treatment that made Fenick disenchanted with the mainstream Church. Even in the monastery he could not escape from the corruption of the Church, and saw no real asceticism from d’Oleron and the higher echelons of the monks, only opulence. However, d’Oleron’s “training” did not have a profound effect on Fenick. He was forced to commit extreme asceticism, including self-flagellation, and had his past as a mage ousted, and was forced daily to speak of the “depravities” of his “sinful” past.

He did not spend long at St. Carmya, and was still sixteen when he left. As he wandered the countryside, a kind family took him in and nursed him to care until the wounds and fatigue from St. Carmya were recovered. Then he went to Nyhem, and after proving his identity was allowed to enter into the University. He studied first the Liberal Arts, and became Master of the Arts (the equivalent of gaining a degree) and then was allowed to move on to theology. This was a grueling program that took ten years to complete, and Fenick never finished. Once he was twenty-four he left, taking only the copies of books he had personally handwritten, the clothes on his back, and some money. He left for the hottest region of the Uzgob Desert in order to become an ascetic, and nearly died twice due to heat exhaustion. Yet in the end his body got used to it, and he successfully became a severe ascetic, who only ate to survive. He would often go on extensive fasts, and would receive visions of the gods and the saints as a result.

Sixteen years ago, Rhodanthe was in the desert, not far from his cave, when he had found an abandoned baby in a basket, together with a piece of parchment with the name “Rhodanthe.” He saw it as a holy event, and raised the child (see Rhodanthe’s entry). However, he has never claimed the child as his own, and she has always called him “Gramps.” Nonetheless, in his heart she is his daughter. Though Rhodanthe lives simply as well, she is not an ascetic, so Fenick sees that most of the food goes to her.

Weakness

His lifestyle makes it so that Fenick has very little physical strength. He is not tactful, and does not care if the one who he speaks out against and offends is far more powerful than him.

Johannia of Telmarion

Age: 44

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation Bisexual

Position Scholastic theologian (former), theologian and preacher of the Monadic Movement

Personality Johannia is very studious and well-read, and in general prefers reading and writing to public speaking and public events. That is not to say that she is shy, however. She has the ability to be fiery, often too much so for the scholastic world she served as a scholar in. Her outspokenness and fierce criticism of people more popular with the authorities caused her constant problems. Outside polemic and academic debate is usually of a quite quiet demeanor, and has few close friends. She is genuinely pious, and often ponders on morality, and believes herself to be deeply concerned with purity of character and action. Yet the truth of the matter is not as simple as Johannia would like to believe, for though she tries to control herself as well as she can and follow her ethical code, she is quite easily seduced into pleasure. Johannia loves nature and art.

Weakness Johannia has no tact and badly overestimates her own leverage and power in a situation. This is why in the past when she served as a Scholastic she was nearly declared a heretic several times and had to recant several times. Therefore, she is lacking any skill in politics. She has no combat ability.

Appearance

Johannia is a plain woman with black hair and light, whitish skin. She is thin, with small, skinny fingers. Her body is usually mostly covered, excepting her face and fingers, by her religious habit.

Background

Johannia was born in the capital of Telmarion to a house of minor noble blood. The third child, of her parents, it was expected that, unlike her brothers, she would pursue a career in the Church rather than in the military. The young Johannia had no problem with this, and was sent to a cathedral, where her uncle served as an abbot, where she spent her later childhood. There at this abbot Johannia learned grammar, arithmetic, and astronomy, as well as the Holy Books. Johannia became enthusiastic about joining the Church, but it was not the Church career that her parents wished for. Johannia wished to become a friar, rather than an abbot or bishop. This did not go well with Johannia’s parents, especially her mother. So Johannia, along with several friars, left under the cover of night, headed towards a friary. However, one day while Johannia was drinking water from a spring her brothers seized her and took her back to the castle of her family.

Johannia was put under detention, and confined to her room. Nonetheless, Johannia was steadfast in her choice. She would become a friar, and would not relinquish this wish no matter what. In an attempt to persuade her, her brothers sent Johannia a prostitute to show her what she would be missing if she took the oaths of a friar, though the prostitute was male rather than female due to a mistake on her brother’s part. Johannia would later claim she chased the prostitute away with a red hot iron poker, but this is simply not true. The prostitute and Johannia slept together that night. Nonetheless, this changed nothing, and Johannia claimed to her brothers she had chased the prostitute away. After a year Johannia’s mother saw that there was no hope to convince Johannia of falling in line with her parents, and allowed to escape under the guise of night, for this was less damaging than an open surrender to the friars.

Johannia then henceforth joined the Order of St. Zedaiya, a mendicant order. Her first responsibility was to be properly trained in the theological and philosophical sciences to serve as a defender and propagator of the faith. To do this Johannia attend the University of Nyhem, where she excelled in her studies. She studied first the Liberal Arts, and then moved on to theology. After her studies were completed, she gave her inaugural lecture on the fifth book of the prophet, and was henceforth named a Doctor of Theology. She began her career with fairly innocuous commentaries on the holy books, which were received as informative and lucid. The only objector was Bernarda Avicebrol of Yannis, who claimed there was heresy hidden in the commentaries. However, the religious authorities decided sided with Johannia. This began a long rivalry between the two.

Johannia, disappointed in the rather passive interpretation of her commentaries, wrote a four-book long work, Elaborations and Elucidations on My Commentaries on the Holy Books, which was not very well received. Bernarda claimed that her accusations against Johannia had been vindicated, and she immediately wrote a polemic against Johannia, accusing her a heresy, with the intention of invoking a trial against her. Johannia badly miscalculated her position, and was overly bold and combative with her opponents, such as Johannia, and in an ensuing trial Johannia was forced to recant positions of hers deemed heretical. Her defeat may have been due to a heavily damaging rumor (which was actually true) that she had been involved in a one-night affair with a fellow cleric. Johannia was embittered at her defeat, though she continued to hold Bernarda in high esteem as a theologian and defender of the faith against the philosophers. She soon became completely disillusioned with the Church, and even more radical in her theological beliefs. The rest is history.

Rhodanthe

Age: 16

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Straight

Position: Proselytizer

Personality

Her personality and mannerism is rough. She is unused to and uncaring about the courtly etiquette of higher society. She is not good with new people, and has a problem with reading people. Nonetheless, she is compassionate, full of caring for those she knows need the sentiment, and horrified by oppression and poverty wherever she sees it. She is brave, perhaps recklessly so, for even though she knows her body is weak she is never afraid to stand up and fight for what she thinks is right. She is genuinely religious, but she does not put much stock in the traditional religion of the Church or the new religious movement of Johannia. She is more of a henotheist than Johannia, and prays at night to a heavenly father, god among gods.

Appearance:

Rhodanthe is of a frail appearance, being skinny and delicate-looking. Her skin is pale and white. She has slim eyes, with deep, dark brown eyes. She has relatively short hair that not quite reach to the bottom of her neck. Her hairstyle is unadorned and simple, round in appearance, and shiny and soft.

Background:

Neither Rhodanthe nor Fenick know anything about Rhodanthe’s birth, or her biological parents. All that is known is that when Rhodanthe was still a babe she was left in a basket outside of Fenick’s cave. Fenick never saw the person who left her there, and has always claimed that it was through a miracle of the gods that she came to his home. Rhodanthe was raised by Fenick in an unorthodox upbringing, always living simply. Though Fenick never called her his child and she never called Fenick her father aloud, the sentiment is there in both of them, and she affectionately calls him “Gramps.” Fenick has raised Rhodanthe in a pious “household,” teaching her to always honor the gods and uphold the vow of chastity. Fenick, being a hermit who shuns society, never goes into regular society. Rhodanthe, however, feels differently than Fenick. She is adventurous, is not content with living in a cave all her life, and wants to explore the world. So Fenick allows her to make irregular trips to the city on his horse, Belliante. Now unrest has come to the Church, Fenick has sent her to Nyhem, under the command to always serve the gods and her vow of chastity, but to become her own person, for she is now a woman, not a girl. She was saddened that she had to leave the man who raised her, but happy that she now could see a little more of the world.

Weakness:
Rhodanthe is physically weak, and does not have much tact in dealing with complex and explosive situations.

Tydeus

Name: Tydeus of Acrana

Age: 50

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Homosexual

Position: Scholastic political philosopher and theologian; unofficial theologian of the Holy Order of Saint Elenor

Personality: Tydeus has a strong, gruff personality. He in general is a very bold individual, who is not afraid to speak his mind. For just as a philosopher must always impose and uphold virtue, so Tydeus will not shrink from speaking against even the power. He possesses a natural genius in academics, which is how he has become a prominent political philosopher.

Weakness: Tydeus, as it was mentioned, does not have the proper tact to become very popular among the higher classes. He has only the average physique of a man his age who does not exercise.

Appearance: He is heavily bearded. He generally takes proper care of his appearance. He usually is seen in his ecclesial brown robes.

Background: Tydeus, the son of an innkeeper and waitress, was born in a small village. He was naturally religious, and was immediately drawn to the mendicant orders. He became a priest who specialized in evangelizing and theology at the age of twenty-one. At the age of twenty-five – already having a thorough training through systematic theology – he learned philosophy at University. His early philosophical background was metaphysical, where he dealt with the perennial philosophical problems of what Being is, and the Problem of Universals. However, he eventually dedicated himself to political philosophy and ecclesial reform, attracting controversy, although it wasn’t an abnormal for a political philosopher. Later, he became well-known as a university lecturer on political questions, which led to his status as a political advisor for high-ranking noblemen. However, he fell from favor due to his own brashness, and as a result instead became closer to the Holy Order of Saint Elenor. He has since practically become the Order’s spokesman-theologian.

Formaroth: Battle for the Throne

Lycaon stood outside the Grand Temple, awaiting the High King. Beside him stood Sir Glynda, who, with Sir Raeya’s death, now served as Lycaon’s most trusted advisor when it came to subtle matters. Sir Daeleth, Sir Sayer, and Tydeus all were busy with other tasks. Sir Oswyn had been left in charge of guarding the base. Lycaon had left him there per Oswyn’s own request; Lycaon could tell that what had happened earlier was bothering him. Lycaon wondered whether or not he had acted too rashly, or whether he had led his soul astray. Reactions to his cleansing of the heretics had not had the reception he had thought it would. In truth, he did not think that anyone would care. And now he had angered the King, and estranged himself from one of his most loyal and skilled lieutenants. He would have to be more careful in the future.

For the time being, however, he had other matters that concerned him. The King had come to meet them, and with a battalion of well-armed guards as well. It was certainly intimidating, considering the heated conversation they had when they had last met. Yet they were not alone when they met the King. Lycaon had come here with a hundred of the Knights of the Order, and he was hopeful that the King would not be so hysterical as to be offended that at such a royal and august meeting he had brought them along as symbols of the Church and the Order. Along with them were the Bishops, nearly two-hundred. They were here to witness the High King’s Speech, though that was not the only reason they were here. One among them would be the new High Priest or Grand Cleric. They had assembled here at the Grand Temple to choose the Church’s next leader, but had been interrupted by the riot. After the speech they would return to that task, for to them there could be nothing of greater importance. And as Duncan approach Lycaon, Sir Glynda, and all the knights and bishops bowed to the High King.

“It is an honor, High King,” Lycaon said.

"Ser Lycaon" Duncan said cordially "please rise" Duncan wasn't interested in continuing hostilities, right now he wanted Lycaon to think he was on his side. However he had no intention of giving Lycaon the satisfaction of apologizing either. He was certainly impressed by the vast host of knights clergymen that had gathered to meet him. However all Duncan could wonder was how many of them were already in Lycaon's pocket. "I trust you and your men have recovered from the riot"?

Lycaon rose to his feet. In fact the riot had not made a dent in Lycaon's forces. The recent battle was in fact what Lycaon's brigade was recovering from, and it would be some time before their numbers could be replenished.

"Yes, my King," Lycaon said. "My force emerged with few casualties. It is the great city of Nyhem that has truly suffered."

"That's good to hear" Duncan said as he walked past Lycaon into the temple "I trust preparations are ready? The people of Nyhem will soon gather outside to hear who is responsible for the chaos that took place over the last couple days. We must make sure that the people of Nyhem are united behind these hetertics".

"The announcement of it was made some time ago," Lycaon said. "And there can be no doubt the people shall wish to hear their King speak at such a momentous occasion."

"Very good" Duncan said as he turned to one of his guardsmen "make sure the plaza is secure, I don't want these heretics taking advantage of this gathering and start another riot" The guardsman bowed before making his way back down the temple steps to pass on his kings orders to the battalion waiting in the plaza bellow.

***

"-and with the help of the nobles knights of Elenor the vile heretic's have been purged from this city, once again securing the safety and security that the people of this city deserve" With this a thunder of applause and cheers erupted from the crowd gathered before him. Duncan was currently standing atop the temple steps so that the people bellow could clearly hear him. He had been speaking for what much have been nearing an hour but it seemed it was working. The masses of Nyhem had gathered before him and Duncan had given them exactly what they wanted; someone to blame. Turning the people against the heretics had worked out much better to his favour then he could have hoped. The very people who until recently had despised him were now cheering for him, now that they believed they both shared a common enemy. Duncan raised his hand and eventually the crowd was silenced,
"Amongst this chaos that has ravaged our dear city, there is one man who's heroics stood out amongst all others. Ser Lycaon" Duncan said as he turned to face him" Please step forward

So the time had come for him. Lycaon stepped forward, and bowed to Duncan, awaiting whatever honor he would bestow on to him, though he was sure that it would be of little importance.

Once Lycaon stepped forward Duncan turned to face the crowd once more "Ser Lycaon has proven his loyalty to the crown and to this city. He single handedly purged Nyhem of the heretic's and helped restore order. As such I grant him the title of inquisitor of the Concord. It is he who shall root out the seeds of this corruption and be the protector of Formaroth's faithful" Duncan raised his hands at this signalling the crowd to break into a applause.

"You have my undying thanks, my King," Lycaon said. "I shall faithfully execute the task you have set before me, and shall properly cleanse our Kingdom of the heretical menace that threatens it."

"For now we must remain vigilant and we must all be united in strength" Duncan finished as he gave his closing remarks to the crowd. They they gave out one last applause Duncan turned to face Lycaon "Do not disappoint me" He said under his breath. Though one could pass it off as a harmless jest, any fool could tell that it was a warning in disguise. With that he walked back into the temple to wait for the crowd to clear, he wanted to get back to the keep as soon as possible, word from his brother would soon arrive; hopefully announcing the annihilation of house Mandarass.

(collab with @TheDuncanMorgan)

Formaroth: Battle for the Throne

@TheDuncanMorgan That's good with me. Yet I was also planning for some of the heretics to have one last ditch effort to try to get Duncan on their side. I could tell you more in a PM.

NaNoWriMo Discussion

Like other people I'm not done with my novel. Not even close. I just got past the first part in the book. That being said, I feel like my group of characters have more personality and chemistry than any other group of characters I've previously concocted. I'm going to keep working on this, though I'll probably take a little break first.

A Truly "Gifted" Life (Ignore post count)

@EchoicChamber Yeah, that's fine.

Formaroth: Battle for the Throne

I made a mistake and forgot to add most of the collaboration between Duncan and me. I have since added it.

A Truly "Gifted" Life (Ignore post count)

Rhea

Full Name: Rhea Roscelin

Nickname/Aliases: The Flying Fortress, The Hero of Buford

Age: 25

Gender: Female

Rank: Lieutenant (army)

Gift: Levitation

Rhea has the ability to hover in the air. Though she cannot go too high she has fully mastered her gift, allowing her to dash forward and great speeds and change directions quickly.

Loyalty: Liberty

Description:

Personality:

At Rhea’s core is her values about duty, loyalty, and justice. She is extremely honorable in all things. In battle she will not attack a fleeing opponent or one that cannot fight back unless she is directly ordered to by a commanding officer, and even then will only grudgingly do so. Though she does not prefer to fight against the weak, she will if they refuse to surrender, seeing such an action as a declaration of hostilities. She will respect any opponent as long as he or she shows himself worthy of it during battle, but will become angry if her opponent tries to do what she regards as underhanded techniques. She believes in the sacredness of words, and thinks that oaths are the highest of promises, and that there are few things worse than breaking an oath. She is completely loyal to her state, Liberty, and will never betray it or its leaders. She completely believes in equality, the supposed cornerstone of Liberty, and believes that everyone

Rhea has a firm personality. She is slow to back down, and is hard to frighten. It is her nature to have a friendly personality, though she always lacks any sign of passivity. She feels pity easily, and is quickly moved to a charitable mood by those who are less fortunate than herself. She holds plenty of inner strength, and is willing to go to great lengths to overcome any obstacle, even great pain. Even though she has a strong presence and a firm demeanor, she is also kind-hearted and gentle when not in a life-threatening situation.

Rhea puts on a strong front, and its hides the cracks that are underneath. A veteran of the war, she has been fighting a long time. She is suffering from extreme shell-shock. She is constantly reminded of the many friends who she has lost in her sleep, unable to differentiate the sounds of a city from the sounds of bombardment and battle, and is unable to bring herself to even imagine ever returning to civilian life. Hiding a deep depression in her, life seems to have lost its shine and luster for her.

Skills:

Rhea is very skilled in swordplay, and also knows how to handle to a rifle well. She is highly literate and well-versed in manners.

Weakness:

Rhea is an extremely honorable person who will never fight someone who is down or attack someone who has surrendered or is retreating.

Brief History:

As a child Rhea was very different from how she is now. She spent her early years in a Liberty orphanage, and to this day is still unaware of what exactly happened to her parents. Whatever happened to them, by the time she was checked in to the orphanage at age five they were long gone. Rhea was not a cheerful child. From her earliest years she was shy, and did not function well in the strict orphanage system. Though everything was provided for her, her standard of living was meagre. Theft was a constant problem in the orphanage, though Rhea was never any good at it, and was too shy to even attempt it. As any easy target, she was bullied often. The only pleasant memory was of the assistant matron of the orphanage, who befriend Rhea and was kind to her, and ensured her survival. She was one of the three people who Rhea looked up to as she was growing up, because of her kindness.

At the age of ten she was adopted into a family which already had two children. Her life did not become any happier. Her siblings consistently rejected calling her their sister, and Rhea suffered as a result. It was the sister, Clara, who was particularly abusive. She didn’t hesitate to take away Rhea’s things, didn’t mind physically hitting her, and knew exactly what to say to get under her skin and make her feel vulnerable and powerless. She was one of the three people who Rhea looked up to as she was growing up, because of her inner strength, tenacity, and unbreakable determination.

Rhea did not stay long with that family. When she was twelve she once again returned to an orphanage. She felt lonely and isolated, and for some reason could not help but think about Clara. Life in the orphanage once again was hard. However, she remembered all that she had learned in her life so far and learned to carry on. From Clara she had learned how one took control from others, and from her old orphanage’s matron she learned how to be kind. The matron of her new orphanage was a former veteran. This new matron befriended Rhea, and told her of her glory days in the military. From her Rhea learned the ideas of honor and sacrifice. It was her who convinced Rhea to join the army.

At the age of eighteen Rhea left to join the military. She had gone through a lot in her childhood, and had changed completely from when she was a child. She joined the army, and tried her best to fit in there. Due to her experiences in childhood she fit in better than she did before. However, she still had a shyness and nervousness about her. The training was hard on her, and every day was a challenge. She earned the ire of her commanding officer as a result of her weakness. However, with the experiences of her past in her mind she made it a point never to give up. Eventually Rhea grew stronger, and as boot camp went on she became stronger due to her tenacity. As a result she tapped into her inner potential and turned into a fine soldier, perhaps the finest in her platoon.

It was during this time that the war between her state of Liberty and their rival Erubesco began a war with each other. During training Rhea had learned to control well her Gift of levitation, but she had not yet achieved mastery of it. She had plenty of growing to do. As the war began her regiment was one of the first to be sent to the frontline, and she was one of the first to fight in the war. Those first days would shape Rhea more than any other event ever would. Many of her comrades, who she had come to know in boot camp, died immediately. Those who survived, such as herself, were immediately besieged. The enemy was relentless, and fighting lasted for hours as they fought for single miles of land. Rhea did not think about it. She had learned how to block out all such thoughts that would merely force her to break down. She soldiered on – a fitting expression – and held the line. When there was an assault Rhea, with help, spearheaded the counterattack by her regiment, leading to her moniker “The Hero of Buford.” In the Battle of Buford she had sixty confirmed kills overall.

Rhea is not tactician, and she has never been well-liked by the military brass for her honorable and principled stance. The officers simply feel that Rhea is not “one of them.” She has been (privately) accused of being more like an Erubescan knight than a soldier of Liberty, but Rhea has never had any doubts regarding her loyalty. As a result of this situation Rhea has never been promoted any higher than lieutenant. She has without relief in the Liberty-Erubesco war, now in its seventh year, and Rhea believes there is no end in sight. She believes it will ultimately be a war of attrition, and that victory will only come when one side runs out of people. She does not like this situation, but she cannot see any alternative.

Nomad

Full Name: Sara Danton Hargrave

Nickname/Aliases: Nomad

Age: 25

Gender: Female

Loyalty: Ashlander

Description:

In terms of beauty, Nomad isn’t much to look at, with a harsh skin that is mired by the scars of battle and a life of hard work. It is difficult to tell her gender at a glance. Her clothes are mere tatters, things which she has bought for cheap from the various ashlander scavengers, which are hodgepodge of various linen and cloth sewed together without any thought to aesthetic. Her gender can be hard to tell, as she is extremely plain and wears very baggy clothes, and doesn’t have anything to speak of in feminine form. She normally wears a round hat over her head to protect her skin from the sun. She wears thick black gloves, and when she is traveling she is never without her spiked brass knuckles, which she all too willing to punch someone with. She has a belt that holds her canteen and pistol, which has its own hoisters.

Heightened Abilities

All of Nomad’s senses are above average, and she additionally has more strength and speed than can be acquired through training.

Personality

Most find Nomad very abrasive. She has a tendency to be crude, though not vulgar, and only knows how to speak in unpolished language. She also does not tend to hold back in her words. She is not very good with complicated emotions, or at least does not like to discuss them, and prefers bluntness over anything else. With those who are friendly and amiable to her she knows how to act accordingly, as long as they aren’t asking too much of her in terms of manners, but towards the arrogant and conceited she doesn’t hesitate to try and bring their ego down a notch. She tends to be quite talkative and inquisitive, and does not mind prying into someone else’s business.

Nomad is always looking out for herself, and is always hoping to get valuable things to barter. She, however, is utterly unwilling to become a trader. Instead, she is always doing favors for other people in return for reward. However, Nomad will never do any work she considers unscrupulous, and will not hesitate to help out someone in need if she has the time. Nomad hates to see good people suffers, which is why she despises bandits and slavers. She also despise mercenaries, mostly due to bad experiences.

Skills:

A veteran fighter. Adept at sneaking and hearing people approach her. Is skilled at unlocking locks. Experienced in bartering. She knows all the skills necessary to survive in the Ashland, such as how to make a fire, how to hide from incoming bandit or slaver raiding companies, how to hunt, scavenge, make clothes and blankets, how to cook, and how shoot a gun. With her pistol she is a crack shot, but it still is only a pistol. Though her training is minimal, she is an expert hand-to-hand fighter due to years of intense experience. She should not be underestimated under any circumstances.

Weakness:

Overconfident. Has a tendency to think she will never lose to anyone no matter how outnumbered she is.

Stupid. Never thinks things through and isn’t very good at making plans.

Brief History:

“Me and the slavers have a working deal. I shot them, they die. It’s a mutual relationship.”

Nomad doesn’t know much about her lineage. Despite the aid of a gifted doctor Sara’s mother died in childbirth, so Sara only had her father. Sara has only a few memories of her father, but remembers his name, Walter Danton. They were traveling together on a caravan with a number of others, heading towards a nearby settlement, when they were attacked by bandits. Nomad was the only survivor. She would have been captured, but she was saved by an ashlander named James Hargrave. Though he was not her blood relative, in time Sara learn to call James her father. He taught her the skills necessary to survive in the Ashland, and taught her how to fight and shoot. Nonetheless, James never let her come along when he ambushed small groups of bandits and slavers.

By the time she was twelve Sara had gotten used to calling James father. It was then when James’ enemies caught up to him, and the mercenaries of the Black Raven Company ambushed their hideout. James told Sara to retreat, and to run as far away as possible. Their departure was tearful. Sara knew that she was leaving James behind. She never looked back, though she knew that he couldn’t have lived. From then on Sara called herself Nomad, because she had become a drifter and wanderer.

People didn’t respect Nomad at first. They thought she was just some snot-nosed kid who was there to cause trouble. But she wasn’t there to be some orphan, she was there to take jobs just like her dad did. Things didn’t turn out like she thought they would. No one took her seriously, and no one was willing to give her the types of jobs she wanted. She wanted to kill bandits and slavers, not perform menial labor. So she ended up joining a traveling caraven. When it was attacked by a group of bandits Nomad was able to fight the off. She ended up traveling with that caravan for three years.

Once she turned fifteen, however, Nomad decided that people would start to take her a little bit more seriously. Long story short, they did. Nomad ended up in conflict with a group called the Aran Gang after she saved someone who a gang member was terrorizing. This was a long and arduous journey for her. Along the way she met Adam Culver, a former slaver who for years would serve as Nomad’s most trusted companions. In the end Nomad and Adam proved to be a durable and formidable pair, and left the Aran Gang severely damaged, with several of their leaders killed by them personally, and Nomad and Adam personally led to the events that resulted most of the Aran Gang members being arrested.

Later Nomad decided to travel through the Ashland more, helping all sorts of people along the way, provided they were of some sort of moral character. She vastly preferred to be reward for her efforts over not being awarded. Nomad frequently attacked small groups of bandits and slavers with Adam at her side. The Black Raven Company, the mercenaries who killed Nomad’s father, she has run into a great number of times, and always as enemies. They have put a bounty on her head, and attack her personally. She is good enough that she always wins out, however. As the years went by Nomad made many friends and gained the respect and admiration of many who were saved as a result of her actions. One day Nomad was out in the ashlands as usual when she and Adam were ambushed by a large group of slavers, who were intent on getting rid of her. She survived and killed them, but was injured and Adam was killed. Since then her hatred of slavers has increased, and she hates them even more than the Black Raven Company.

Since then, however, Nomad has carried on, alone. She does the same thing she always does, but she misses Adam.

A Truly "Gifted" Life (Ignore post count)

Riza

Riza put his glass down, and stepped forward. There was no reason for him to hesitate. Alcohol had a way of playing with the mind, of dulling it, but Riza did not feel dulled. Disassembling and assembling his pistol was no problem at all. It was something that he had done many times for years, and was something that was natural to him. It was something that did not require much thought from Riza. He disassembled his pistol, then quickly assembled it again as fast as his hands could move.