[hider=@Maxx's Red Sun universe]

[hider=Wizzlebee de LaShtüp]
[img]https://40.media.tumblr.com/f7165d3f276e855d4e2eea7944baec02/tumblr_njopq5Cj9i1qg3ba9o1_100.png[/img]
[b]Name:[/b] Wizzlebee de LaShtüp
[b]Age:[/b] 160
[b]Gender:[/b] Male
[b]Species:[/b] Gnome
[b]Kingdom of Origin:[/b] Ostracus
[b]Physical appearance:[/b] At a daunting and considerable 3'01” (har har), LaShtüp is something of an out-of-the-ordinary gnome, if only for a few more reasons than being an inch above the average height. Perhaps in his youth he bore a rosy-cheeked smile with a fine complexion, but as he stands today, he looks too worn down to manage more than a stroll through the woods. Not that this is something he'd lend on, as even for his age, is surprisingly spry and energetic, but nothing like he was back when he was a young'n. His face has garnered wrinkles and age has pronounced his laugh lines. His large trademark nose, a distinguished feature among gnomes aside from its beak-like curvature, has done little in the ways of following his shriveling skin and receding hairline, allowing it to stick out from his face as his most noticeable feature. One of the biggest peculiarities howe'er, lies in his resemblance to humans. Have no doubt that he is a proud gnome, but replacing a gnome's childlike features is a bolder, and more pronounced face. 

In addition, unlike most gnomes as well, LaShtüp's skin color lacks as much pigment that contributes to the gnomes' copper skin. His own skin is quite pale in comparison, but manages a similar hue if nothing else. If there is one thing that LaShtüp shares, it is his slicked back widow-peaked black hair. Then again, that could just be dye, because there is nary a gray hair to be found on top his head. As you would expect, he is not very strong, even by gnome standards. He weighs about 65 lbs soaking wet, and is a feeble old gnome reading books as large as a human's memo pad after all. Despite his kind usually have a short and stocky build, his limbs are pretty thin. There is not a tremendous amount of meat or muscle that sits between his skin and bone, but he has a gut that many a hearty gnome would be proud of. In this respect, he isn't as thin and weak as he could be. Given how many years he's pushing, he considers himself pretty lucky. LaShtüp has long, brittle fingernails that has turned black through a particular use of magic, but nobody would ever know, because they've been painted mint green.

[b]Attire:[/b] Our favorite gnome dresses to impress. As a first layer, black silk vestments adorn his body, and over that, a black vest. This vest has been trimmed with gold leaf and three brass studs are on either side of his color. Three large buttons go down the center of the vest. Over this, he wears what appears to be a sage green toga, where the sinus that drapes over his left shoulder is held together by golf-leaf coated brass clasp. This particular article of clothing is what indicates him as his city's alchemist, so that he is not mistaken for any priest or sorcerer, but it does not detract from his appearance of a noble. Were it not for his short stature as a gnome in a human society, there'd be no telling what he could get away with.

He has a few accessories on his person. Like the aforementioned painted fingernails. He wears a pair of  black formal slippers, with white cotton socks. While they ease right on and off of his feet, they are fairly secure around them and is difficult for them to fall off by accident. However, it is not uncommon for him to relax with his feet free, and then, there you would find that his toenails are painted a similar color to that of his fingernails! And unlike his fingernails, appeared to be kept in good shape. He has a number of rings, many of which contain secret compartments for certain herbs or powders for emergency alchemical improvisation. He has one gold loop earring on both his ears.

[b]Personality:[/b] The eccentricity of gnomes is not lost on LaShtüp – that is to say, he is no exception to that rule. He, during the early years of his life, had shared the race-wide suspicion that had made up a great deal of their quirkiness, but as the years had gone by, that attitude tempered. He was already unlike many gnomes as he stood, and he was aware of the global view of gnomes and this had brought forth some embarrassment. This has influenced his perception of other races a little bit as he came to realize that it was the gnomes who were considered to be the absurd, different major race among races. This had half to do with luring him out from his homeland and to travel through the major kingdoms, eventually stopping at Nepharie, the largest kingdom, as it had exposed him to more of the world's culture than any other place, and where he got to meet the most people from all over. Since moving in, he's been regarded as generous, insightful and fun. At heart, he is a very dedicated and studious individual that doesn't stop when he sets his mind to a task.

As a gnome magi and alchemist, and all of his years of experience, there is no denying Wizzlebee's brilliance and creativity. As far as others are concerned, his most notable skill is his practice on the alchemy bench, where he develops some of the most refined potions a man has ever seen. However, his eccentric personality can distract others from that aspect of him. He is ridiculously cheerful, almost to naïve extremes. His mind-numbing optimism makes him appear almost oblivious to the world around him and to all of the issues plaguing the world or his own situation. He comes across as a sensitive old gnome whose feelings can be easily crushed if taken the approach of pure and unadulterated evil, but otherwise, playground-esque meanness would simple inspire him to coddle you.

Further undermining his actual intelligence is his apparent inability to grasp the bartering system in Nepharie. It doesn't help that there are different languages and cultures for every race that passes through, but the dominate bartering system was such an extreme learning curve for LaShtüp compared to how it was back home at Ostracus. He is, what has to be, the worst barter in the kingdom and has screwed himself out of so many deals without even knowing. His relationship with the locals is strange as well, as they don't seem entirely aware of the methods of gnomish flirting. Especially among the humans, specifically the men, they're not quite sure how to respond to an old gnomish man whose going on and on about how they should compare their wardrobes. The day and age of this land isn't entirely receptive to his sexuality just yet.

There does seem to be something else about the gnome, though, that sets him off from the others. An abnormality even among gnomish eccentricity. He proclaims an ethical and moral code, but there is almost something there to suggest that he doesn't entirely mean it. It could be possible that he does, and that he simply doesn't take matters of injustice or controversy very seriously, but there is an air of secrecy to him. It is something difficult to pick up, but it is there. Where he gets his ingredients from, what ingredients he actually uses, where he got his training, and how good at magic he is. He never gives a direct answer, and he seems to talk as though he knows something you don't. At his worst, LaShtüp can be narrow-minded and selfish.

[b]Hobbies/interests:[/b] As an alchemist, botany is a no-brainer. Studying plants and flowers and their alchemical properties has always been an interest. Just figuring out how life [i]works[/i]. The study of fungi and their spores is also a topic of interest. Fashion and jewelry are staples for a luxurious life, and he knits in his spare time, although he isn't any good at it. However, here we get into dubious matters where the ethics become taboo. LaShtüp also possesses an interest in death and undeath. The inspection of corpses and fresh cadavers are made, inspiring him to consider the possibility of becoming a mortician, but figured his current position to be a better guise for his suspicious practices.

[b]Skills:[/b] An exceptional alchemist, though he sells only potions and non-lethal poisons, there is just a few recipes outside his reach. Though his skill in alchemy is not to be ignored, the power of his potions also lends credit to the ingredients he uses, often harvested from the dead in secrecy. His willingness to tread where others dare not even speak of gives him an edge in the potency of his product, as well as his flexible capability. He is also good at braiding hair. He can usually sense the motives of others, but very rarely applies the knowledge he gains to his advantage.

[b]Backstory:[/b] LaShtüp must have been born under an odd star or something, to have differed so from his cousins. An only child among gnome households was an absurd circumstance, and to be the only child of a Ostracian noble house would be to doom him to a life of upholding standards and expectations. As would be predicted, his nose was pushed to the grindstone in regards to his formal education. The goal, as it were, would be to direct LaShtüp to the head of house and to wed a gnome gal and continue the bloodline. The actual reasoning for pressing such a matter is to be the LaShtüps' trump card. The house itself was Machiavellian, unscrupulous. They also held a close relationship to the royalty. Enhancing Wizzlebee's education to prodigious levels would allow him the skill and know-how to create awe-inspiring potions that would make history. Revolutionizing the alchemy scene would lend credit to the family and their newfound favor would put them next in line to the royal family. The next step was to stage a disaster.

Hiring mercenaries, the next part of the family plan was to have the royal family assassinated and pin it on the Nepharian military. His human-looking face would perhaps allow him to make more effective diplomacy and ally agreements with Talbor. This in turn would appoint the LaShtüp family as the new ruling bloodline and Wizzlebee would have been appointed the new royalty, and Talbor having Ostracus' back when Nepharie retaliated. Wizzlebee himself never found out about this plan, but the pressure of all the burdens and expectations placed upon him became too much and he escaped Ostracus at age 60 before ever performing such alchemical feats. As a result, the Ostracian monarchy expatriated Wizzlebee and renounced his citizenship. Without a home to go back to, Ostracus never bore witness to his future feats of alchemy and his family never got to hire the assassination that would bring the LaShtüp house to be the ruling bloodline. Never to return, and the house never bearing another child, the LaShtüp house had died off, ending a thousand years of history. Talbor never went into war with Nepharie.

Wizzlebee's path was unclear. He decided it was best for him to follow the road into Nepharie and settle the Nepharian and Ostracian rivalry the best as he could, and to become a respected member of their society. There he could perhaps set up shop in alchemy and help its poor. Over his black and gold clothing he wore a sage green toga to exemplify his new beginnings as an artisan, or skilled labor, but kept his black and gold vestments as an indication of his noble roots, since history was something that should be embraced. Irregardless, the fact stood that nobody in Nepharie appeared to understand the color coded indicators of his old status and simply took him for a noble by the way he had dressed so nicely, which in itself was erroneous and became problematic when people were asking him for lower taxes.

His first experiences in Nepharie was complicated in several other regards, such as the human bartering system that was dominant in the city. For some reason, Wizzlebee just could not wrap his mind around it and ended up giving high-grade potions and elixirs for nearly free, from a few copper pieces, to a couple silver pieces, and sometimes he completely drove away customers by demanding too much. Much to his chagrin, his lack of awareness when it came to barter was taken advantage of for a period of time before a local bill was passed that kept him, and merchants and artisans like him, from being taken advantage of to such a degree. This didn't stop everyone though. Even to this day, he still struggles with the trade, but he has gotten better with it than he was before.

His skill was often credited in making potions, and that much is true to be sure, but there was a lot more behind the scenes than his patrons realized. The unscrupulous house in which he was raised did a lot in order to make sure his potions were of the highest quality. Refined. Devoid of impurities. This is, of course, nearly impossible, but he has reached a small percentage of impurities in his potions. Skill was important, but so were the ingredients – and the trick was to use life around one to create a truly wondrous elixir. He was brought up without the moral constraints of “respecting the dead”. He took body parts from leftover cadavers and corpses, received deliveries from agents who had gone into the morgue and harvested body parts. The quality of potions that occurred after was [i]astonishing[/i], thus spearheading his interest in the nature of the dead, and the alchemical properties of the organs of mortal creatures. A heart was ideal if one wanted to create an exceptional healing elixir.

He got to staying in that city for quite a while and built up his own reputation as that “skilled but quirky alchemist down the alley”, managing to hide that taboo secret of alchemy of his from the locals when he learned that they respected their dead, and that grave-robbing was punishable by execution. A couple years in, and somewhere between 90 and 100 years of age, he began practicing his magic some more. Some time during that ten years, he made a raw trade with some shady looking fellow for a couple of valuable potions. The item he received was an old tome, as the binding itself was starting to come apart and the pages were turning green with mildew. He was assured that the book was worth the price, and Wizzlebee naïvely believed him. What he discovered in the book was nearly illegible, a language he had never seen before. During that ten years, he spent countless hours collecting other books and tomes from other cultures filled with different language, trying to cross-reference the grammar. As he began to learn, the old tome he had traded with appeared to be the root to many of these different languages such as human english, orcish, elvish, but did not include his own gnomish tongue. He came to identify a word that helped to explain a lot of the tome's origins: Fairfolk.

The Fairfolk were not unheard of, and they certainly exist in this day and age, but a book of such age and of such origin was absurd. An unfamiliar word came out of a phrase, “complex element”, appearing to reference to the pre-existing four as the prerequisites for this element's mastery. An unfamiliar phrase: aether, or the “quintessence”. It was described as the element that had filled life and the surrounding universe. It sounded queer to even the strange little gnome, but it was something he had to at least try. His practice in light magic was already exceptional, he himself already powerful, but his abilities fell short of mastery. Wizzlebee devoted much of his magical practice to studying this supposed fifth element, despite his short comings in the other elements. As the tome predicted, studying the nature of life without fully understanding its container would bear to be fruitless. This did not trouble Wizzlebee one bit though. He sought to break the boundaries of the container, or at least, see through aether's nature without its container being the defining or influential aspects of his study. He felt he knew enough about the other elements to at least supplement his understanding of quintessence.

Thinking outside the box, like gnomes are wont to do, Wizzlebee realized he had resources in which he could study this more directly: the magical effects of potions. Half of it was science, of course, but it contained magical properties that, as Wizzlebee realized, did not actually connect with earth, fire, air or water, or even the emotion-based power that dark magic stemmed from. It affected life directly, thus, responded to aether. Using rats and guinea pigs, he observed the magical effects that took place. Eventually, whether through hallucination by repetitiveness and exhaustion, or getting high off the created fumes (really, it was difficult to tell), the gnome could practically see the effects being taken place and the energy that affected his test subjects. Controlling invisible energy is exceptionally difficult, this presumably goes without saying. The old book mentions only a few wizards capable of controlling aether, even fewer mastering the element. The fact that this gnome, who had hardly considered himself a master in anything, was able to touch upon this element, it brought great pride to him... but never did he share this knowledge with anyone. He doubted most people would be able to begin to understand it, but he did acknowledge the potential power the magic of aether. Letting it get into the wrong hands would be disastrous.

The first aether spell he had ever performed was leading the life forces through his body, letting it pass through him in waves with each breath, then letting it occupy his mind – the resulting effect would be the ethereal glowing of his eyes, and through his eyes, Wizzlebee could [i]see[/i] the aether. Like wisps filling and encapsulating every life-form, keeping everything bound together. It was like seeing what made up a person's or creature's spirit. And speaking of spirits, this spell was what led to his first discovery of them. However, as it stood, communication was impossible until Wizzlebee later learned how to “read” the aether, as the energy fluctuated according to expression and behavior.

Talking to spirits had contributed greatly to his interest of the dead, and he sought to learn much from the nature of death from these spirits, as well as history. As he took his first steps into aether magics, it inspired him to take his interest in death to the next level. We're now talking about the next decade or so, 110-120 years old, so he's about middle aged and has seen his fair share of experiences. Having stepped into the realm of aether magic and his own power of enchantment, death became to appear as a subjective topic. Using his enchantment powers to create golems, vessels, and using the littlest amount of aether to supplement his power, Wizzlebee has been able to – wait for it – [i]raise the dead.[/i] Granted, without a soul, this was mindless undead. A corpse that is simply being animated and controlled by the puppeteer's will. His power alone wouldn't work on flesh, but with aether, necromancy, which was once thought impossible, became the gnome's reality. His interest in death and undeath was bolstered, and so he sought to look into aether magic some more. Less to control the world around him, but to delve further into the forgotten taboo art of necromancy.

The following thirty years has been quite a roller coaster. It was difficult hiding his experiments and rituals, his necromantic art. Though risky, it was found the best location was in the cellar beneath his alchemy shop, where he was best able to control who goes in and out. Recycling and reusing the bodies became the regular. Animating the dead also made it easier to harvest choice cuts and organs from the cadavers. The basement was filled with sage and lavender to hide the smell. At 150 years of age, Wizzlebee came into contact with a spirit that claimed to have been a noble defender of the public, and wanted to come back to enrich and impart his knowledge of the history of those of this day, and to use his power to aid those in need, and the little gnome fell for it hook, line, and sinker. He agreed to use the spirit's aether to animate a corpse. This was, of course, his first time doing. In retrospect, using a skeleton wasn't the best idea, since then the defender couldn't go out and impart his wisdom unto others. Not that it mattered; as it turned out, the spirit had lied. The spirit actually had belonged to his father, and Wizzlebee had gone and used his spirit to ensoul a skeleton.

Bartleby de LaShtüp also happened to be the grand master of the LaShtüp house's plot to becoming the new royal house. Of course, now being a live skeleton, Bartleby was unable to go anywhere or do anything by himself without risking getting caught. Despite his unfathomable plotting and unruly behavior, Bartleby was indeed proud of his son's accomplishments. Why, he might have not yet made a miracle potion, but he [i]raised the dead[/i] for goodness sake. That has to count for something.

The past ten years have proceeded little. He raised the bar on his alchemy as he learned how to get access to more “special ingredients”, and he became more attuned to aether, though nothing close to mastery. He came into contact with a young minotaur. A warrior by heritage, a thinker by heart, and heard his story of his affliction. Wizzlebee intends to devote the rest of his remaining life to coming up with a cure for this debilitating  ailment, but he worries that his years are beginning to run short. At 160 years of life, a gnome doesn't have much left to go on. Even if this minotaur does not survive that long, the cure could at least be made for future sufferers of this magical poison. His father, Bartleby, on the other hand, has accepted his condition and grew quite accustomed to being an undead skeleton. He often makes fun of Wizzlebee and the predicaments he finds himself in, and takes every opportunity to find a bone or skeleton pun. Hey, you gotta amuse yourself somehow when you're spending eternity in unlife.

[b]Family:[/b]
Father, Bartleby de LaShtüp – 155 [i](deceased)[/i][b](undead)[/b]
Mother, Glenna de LaShtüp – 172 [i](deceased)[/i]   
Uncle, Bao de LaRouge – 112 [i](murdered)[/i]
Cousin, Trish de LaRouge – 54 [i](murdered)[/i]

[b]Relationships: [/b]
| [b]Bartleby de LaShtüp[/b]| [b]Reconciling[/b] | [b]Father[/b] | [i]“As an undead skeleton, pappy doesn't have much to lose. He's a vulgar old man and doesn't hold back on his snark. We've been working out our differences, though. He still holds a grudge about how I brought him back as a[/i] human [i]skeleton”.[/i] |

| [b]Calder, the Minotaur[/b] | [b]Concerned[/b] | [b]Once-customer[/b] | [i]“I've only dealt business with him before, but I did learn of his condition. Quite odd, really, yes. A weird magic infected him, I am still looking into it. I will probably be looking at it until I die, but I might as well try. I hope I can find a cure before, uh... the worst happens.”[/i] |

| [b]Tooth-In-The-Sea[/b] | [b]Good[/b] | [b]Part time supplier[/b] | [I]“A little odd, but, shucks, I suppose I'm not in any position to talk about that. Sweet lizard sells me ingredients for my alchemy! Sometimes I get rare stock from him too. Always has something interesting in store for me. He gives me good prices for them... I think...”[/i] |

[b]Weaponry:[/b] Large weapon: A willow wood staff; Medium weapon: light magic, specializing in gnomish enchantment and aether; Small weapon: blowgun with needles, oft coated in a home-brewed concoction.

[b]Abilities:[/b] Wizzlebee, in almost all circumstances, would avoid combat at any cost. He's a pacifist as heart, you see. If combat cannot be avoided, he'd more like shift the responsibility onto another while he fled for his life. Which in itself is hard for an elderly gnome to do. If there is no one around, then he could raise one or two undead from the ground and use them to cover his escape. Mindless undead will often fall over after enough distance between them and their conjurer has been made. Ensouled undead are considered intelligent undead and will remain as long their conjurer remains alive or if their body stays intact. 

Despite Wizzlebee's reluctance to fight, if he really applied himself, the little old gnome would be an awe-inspiring adversary when you consider that his potions are top of the line, and remember that, despite his clumsy appearance, he is also an outstanding wizard. Even without aether, he holds a degree of control over the elements that would at least put other prodigy wizards at odds with his own skill. And when you consider his penchant for aether, that alone gives him an edge since others have likely never heard of the lost fifth element. He applies this element in indirect methods, but assuming he gives it a shot, he could probably perform a good deal of damage using it as an offensive ability.
 
[b]Weaknesses:[/b] As an eldery little gnome, he doesn't have much physical prowess going for him. Nor can he run with ease. He'd rather avoid fighting if he can help it, and while he is powerful in his own right, he isn't actually a master in any field. He is also allergic to eggs.

[b]Companion:[/b] Bartleby de LaShtüp, a bitter and pun-making skeleton. Also happens to be Wizzlebee's father.

[b]Other:[/b] Wizzlebee is hella gay.
[/hider]
[hider=Kane Bounevialle]
[img]https://41.media.tumblr.com/976f00aaee9165a2d3739a881c8429bf/tumblr_njxb8xIzw51qg3ba9o1_100.png[/img]
[b]Name:[/b] Kane Bounevialle
[b]Age:[/b] 28
[b]Gender:[/b]  Male
[b]Species:[/b] Human
[b]Kingdom of Origin:[/b] Talbor

[b]Physical appearance:[/b] With the stature and body of a soldier, and the disposition and appearance of a noble, it is a little difficult to put a finger on Kane by appearance alone. A life of hard work has done well for him and his growth. Kane stands at a solid six feet in height and weighs in at about 160 lbs. A good deal above the average human height, he finds himself looking down on most people in the literal sense. Pair with his height a variety of sharp features such as his jawline, high cheekbones, squared-off chin, blond hair, and dinaric nose, his overall appearance is striking. His aforementioned blond hair is a pale color, and is cleaned and well-kept. It is of medium length as the hair does not fall below his shoulders, but is still long enough to curtain and frame his face, although it is generally combed back in a wind-blown style.

Constantly on duty, his face is often stern, maintaining his official status and regal appearance. His skin lacks the tan a man would usually have if he spent all day under the sun like he does, but his naturally pale skin has at least since darkened in tone, and sits in-between those shades. These colors provide little contrast with one another, but blends, and amber eyes contribute to that. Sharply-angeled eyebrows frame his eyes, and with his often stoic expression, gives him a cold and calculating appearance in the presence of his warm color scheme, especially when those eyes trail your every move. Even the sound of his voice, unexpected of a soldier, sounds cool, clam, and collected. Though as a soldier, he is still capable of conjuring the booming force and projection of an officer.

Devoting his life to the sword and liberty of the people, in addition to his early days of farm-work, his physique is sublime, even if it falls short of peak human conditioning. His grueling days of training back when he was a cadet was thorough: crunches, push ups, leg training, being pelted by rocks – every part and aspect of his body was pushed in the training to be a Knight of the Ram. As expected, his body, hands, and feet are riddled with scars, but there is nary a scar to be found on Kane's face. He was of the opinion that a knight's acceptance was affected by charisma and presentation, as it would be his face that'd be leading his people.

[b]Attire:[/b] In the most basic of adornments, Kane wears an off-white linen shirt with sleeves down to his wrist and the neck left unstrung. A similar color of linen pants is paired with it, along with woolen socks. Over these are leather boots that are strung up to the calves. Only in the most humble and modest of situations are these worn among others. In more formal advents are more presentable clothing pieces donned. A black leather saberist jerkin, for instance. The jerkin itself is sleeveless, allowing Kane's white sleeves to feed through. The buttons on the jerkin are entirely on the left side of the article, and can be buttoned all the way up, or save a couple to leave a flap – which is entirely for the sake of fashion (the latter is more frequently done to reflect Kane's “proper” appearance). In unison with this, breeches –  or more often, jodhpurs – are worn. The wool breeches are gray whereas the jodhpurs are a black leather. The dark color scheme contrasts heavily with Kane's brighter, natural colors, but is there for the sake of making dirt and such to be less visible, and a leather outfit provides at least some protection in the event of an emergency spur-of-the-moment conflict.

In preparation for battle or duty, however, the color scheme returns to bright and noble colors. The suit of armor Kane dons is shined and polished, detracting from the scratches that decorates the armor. The suit of armor is heavy and bulky. We're talking full-on plate armor with chainmail lining wherever there are joints, with an aketon underneath the suit. The breastplate and backplate are of course large plates of armor that protects most of Kane's organs, and are sleek in their design. The breastplate and backplate are actually divided into two separate parts. Two plates of armor overlap, allowing the knight to breathe with his chest and move his chest around. The armor plates slides against each other and is so close together and tied tightly enough that a sword slipping through the plates would be highly improbable. In addition, a couple pieces of armor are in place that retracts the need for a full gorget. The pauldrons he wears are large. The cover his shoulder down to the middle of his biceps, and there is an extension to the top of the pauldrons that raises up and flares out to protect his neck. On these pauldrons, there is a gold leaf trim where they flare up around the neck and three gold-leaf coated studs on the armor where the flares are bolted to the pauldrons. There is a half-sized gorget that acts as little more than a throat guard. The gorget itself is highly decorated in what appears to be a design resembling a fleur-de-lis, which is entirely coated in gold leaf.

That is all there is for the most notable aspects of his armor, where the rest are greaves on his calves, cuisses on his thighs, and so on. The only other areas of his armor trimmed with gold leaf is around the fan-plates over his knees, the top of his sabatons, and along the vambraces of his gauntlets. Kane opts to forgo his helmet, a fluted armet, most of the time as he often finds himself planning and leading a charge, and consequently needing to get a good view of the field and more effectively calling out his commands.

[b]Personality:[/b] The core of Kane's motivations is “the sake of liberty and law for the people”. Truly, he embodies the principles and ideals of soldiers and guardsmen, and has upheld these ideals since the beginning of his aspirations. While many people become knights and guards for the esteem, the money, or for the thrill, Kane has wanted to do good and protect others back when he was a boy. Those ideas were attributed to and represented by knights and guards and soldiers, which thereby inspired him to follow that path. He, amidst his virtues, recognizes he is not without flaws, and works hard to compensate for those negative aspects of his character. He has a soft spot for the vulnerable and poor, but he has little tolerance for domination, prejudice, and corruption. He even goes as far as to root it out from wherever it may be hiding, for the sake of protecting the greater good. At his best, Kane is selfless, loyal, and compassionate.

Despite his altruism, Kane's disposition is something of a hindrance to those who wish to approach him. He is a highly disciplined knight after all, shaped to a soldier's protocol. As a rule of thumb, is not allowed to become emotionally invested lest he lose his cool demeanor. Keeping a level head is crucial in being a Talborian Knight of the Ram. His discipline, however, also lends to him a degree of tenacity quite unlike the typical soldier or guardsman. This stubborn rigidness gives him the “never give up” code and quick-to-act reflexes he carries with him even to this day. Kane has often been credited among his troop that, should they ever have to fight one another, he might win just by outlasting them all through sheer willpower. Granted, he is also credited to being the biggest stick-in-the-mud of the team, and very rarely does Kane drop the sense of duty and stoic temperament.

The knight is also intelligent and carries with him a certain charisma. The intelligence is due to the education that he had received in his training to be a knight, since no respectable high-ranking soldier can serve the royal court and be deemed a fool or moron. His intelligence is well applied to practical use. Among his cadet class, Kane was among the top ten percentile for strategy and tactics. His charisma factor is a different story, and has very little to do with his training. It is a sort of noble selflessness that Kane has held close to heart since he was a young teen. His capability for empathy and his devotion to others allows him to carry the flag of command and inspire others, or calm the angry. Being a talented fighter and strategist, he can be very calculating in the midst of a fight or spar. This calculating behavior influences other aspects of his life as well.

However, his charisma is not all that it is cracked up to be. Despite being able to inspire in the heat of the moment, Kane still possesses the predisposition to be intellectually oriented. The aforementioned calculating behavior detracts from his appearance as being compassionate. He comes across as unmoving and stoic; cold and uptight. You would think the man has never had the heart to live it up some, as one could see when considering that Kane regards music as a distracting novelty, and being overall oblivious and unmindful in the area of romance or sex. Also, one of the quirks that was often made fun of back at the barracks was how picky of an eater he was. If he looked at the plate of food and thought he wouldn't like it, he wouldn't eat it – or even [i]touch[/i] it. Granted, if he were starving, this would change, but he'd accept it reluctantly. While he is generally open-minded, he can be a little black and white if he sets his mind on one thing for too long. At his worst, Kane can be distant, stubborn, and evangelical.

[b]Hobbies/interests:[/b] As a knight-turned-guardsman who is very much dedicated to his duty, he has little time to do or think about much in the ways of hobbies or interests. As he was once a knight of the highest prestigious order,  he got somewhat involved in the political field. While he is by no means talented in the area, he possesses a mild curiosity in politics. If he were to lead, and lead effectively, this is surely something he should look into, right? He has a natural curiosity when it comes to people as well. He seeks to protect them,their freedom, and their ideas, regardless of what they are. When Kane has nothing to do and cannot sleep at night, he writes unaddressed letters.

[b]Skills:[/b] Kane was once a farm boy, so he has a natural inclination to perform any farm activities with little struggle. He worked specifically on a grape vineyard, which in itself is a little different from other produce, but he'd likely get the hang of it. He has an understanding of survival techniques and therefore can get by in the wilderness for a period of time and set up a camp. And while nothing exceptional, being a picky eater forces him to learn how to cook for himself. As one a Knight of the Ram cavalry, he is an expert on horseback and understands basic animal husbandry when it comes to horses. Being an inspiring captain and field commander, Kane is an exceptional orator. He happens to be something of an amateur calligrapher due to his nights of aimless letter writing.

[b]Backstory:[/b] He was born on a Talborian vineyard to a pair of farmers. They were by no means from any noble bloodline, and their ancestry can be traced down to nothing more than a couple of men and women with a patch of dirt to their name. However, the acres of land under Bounevialle's name has proliferated since those days. The Bounevialle vineyards are by no means the largest vineyard, nor are they the most expensive. Their vineyard was just a few twelve acres or so on a small patch of fertile soil in the midst of the rocky, mountainous region. The end product was a mid-price concord grape, and was difficult to find in most breweries and taverns. When Kane became of working age, and as his father and mother were wearing down, he'd spend most of his days tending the vineyard and harvesting the grapes. This often brought him home with hands bloodied by the thorns and littering them with scars and calluses. While the Bounevialle family were considered what was essentially middle-class, they were still too short on money, and especially too short on time to invest in Kane's education.

Kane has a sister six years younger than he, and with her birth, brought on the early stages of his protective side. When he'd come home from laboring a long day in the vineyard, he'd come home and watch over his sister while his parents went off into the market. He'd cook her and himself some supper, often a potato and carrot stew, with small chunks of meat floating about in the broth. It was nothing fancy, but it was easy to please a toddler as long as you assured them it was something tasty. They never had grapes available though. What couldn't be locked up in a barrel was taken to market to sell. Almost always there was a buyer, and on those super rare occasions that there were grapes leftover, there wasn't much left that could be put into a crepe, but there were almost always some blueberries to put in that could supplement the lack of grape filling.

In between those years and the day he left home, he'd find himself fighting bullies that were harassing his sister. It almost seemed like every other week – it didn't matter how outmatched he was, Kane always fought them. An angry big brother who spent his days working on farms was usually enough to at least chase those kids away.

Years pass, and at the age of 14, Kane brought up the prospect of becoming a knight. Not just any knight however, but a Knight of the Ram, in direct service to the country. His parents agreed to his requests, of course. It was a noble calling, and Kane's sister was old enough to help with farm work. In fact, looking up to Kane all her life had inspired her to help him pick grapes even when she was little. The thorns never scared her off. Kane had walked off to the Talbor capital of Maceron a couple miles off and stopped the castle barracks front door. They had initially turned down his request to enter as a squire, as he was already far over the age of 10 and was ineligible to become a page, but he didn't so much as walk five feet away. Not wanting to walk home as a failure, he stayed there. He'd ask again and again, every time the door opened. It was a “no” every single time. Kane still remained there, and squatted in that spot for two days without anything to eat or drink. At that point, Kane was desperate and resorted to begging. When the head of the order, Sir Fallon, found a starving boy groveling near the steps, he took him in and fed him. Gave him water. A bed for a night or two. Then he turned him back loose.

Kane repeated the process. This time, he was out there for three days, asking to be made a squire. It was less easy to sympathize with an illiterate farmboy the second time around when he starts begging. Sir Fallon resigned and permitted the boy to walk into the barracks. After his recuperation, he'd begin his days as a squire where he will first be educated and then he will perform his duties in his services for the the Knights of the Ram.

His days as a squire were not easy. He first had to receive an education if he were to become of such a noble order, and he crunched hours day in and day out taking in as much as he could. He learned how to read and to write, he learned arithmetic, some science and chemistry, and of course, extensive lessons in history and the finer arts, such as dance. It was expected of a noble knight, as strange as it was. It took a while in all of that, but with hard devotion, he got it all done in two years, putting to rest all doubts amongst the order that there'd be no hope for a teenager that didn't even know how to read yet. At sixteen, his real chores were only beginning.

As an arming squire, he was appointed to a knight and was required to perform all duties and services the knight requested. His knight's name was Sir Raleigh Cruz. A simple if not humble man, and surprisingly modest for a noble. This duty involved taking care of the knight's horses and his armor, dressing the knight in his armor, running chores and messages, waiting the knight's table, guarding him as he slept, and even accompanying his knight to the battlefield. There hardly seemed to be more time for anything else, but amidst all that, he was expected to train in the use of weapons, including marksmanship, exercise to develop their bodies, climbing, athletic, and swimming skills, and horsemanship. He was also required to learn the code of chivalry and rules of heraldry if he were to become a knight. It was also his duty to enter the social life of the castle and learn: courtly etiquette, jousting, music, and dancing.

All of this had a huge impact on Kane's discipline and triggered him to form rigid schedules that left little to no time for himself. At the end of these hard and trying days, when he would stay awake to watch his knight's sleeping hide, he'd write letters. Given the amount of time available to him, he'd write slowly and carefully, allowing him the time to pick out the best words possible and write in the best and neatest way possible. He'd begin writing letters to his little sister. Letters that she'd never read because the family wasn't literate. Still, every night he would do this, writing a letter for his sister, finish it, and then stare at the end product for a while and sigh before he puts it away in his strongbox. There are countless letters in his box, and it has gotten to the point where Kane's handwriting is among the finest and neatest in the castle.

Martial training was something Kane thoroughly enjoyed whenever his knight would allow him to spend the day training instead of accompanying him, but it was exceptionally harder than anything he ever had to do on the farm. With the thin mountain air, he often found himself on the verge of unconsciousness. Amidst that, he learned how to use swords and shields, he learned how to carry his armor and how to wear it properly, he even learned crossbow shooting. Though it was one of the more difficult skills for him to learn, proper aim was still important to learn as a knight. During his spar sessions with the other squires, often using dulled swords or wooden swords, he found himself best suited when both were using only longswords. Contrary to popular belief, these fights did not last very long. It doesn't take a long time for someone to land a hit on the other person, and in the case of sparring circles, the squire who won the match must get into position as the next squire in line entered the circle comes in to replace the loser. Among the squires, Kane landed in the top fifteen percentile for martial skill.

There was also the thinking side of military training. The squires had to practice tactics and strategy extensively if they were going to be any more useful than disposable fodder. While a steadfast and protective fellow, and by no means a slouch in the physical department, Kane truly shined in the area of tactics and strategy, and it was where his introverted nature functioned at its best. He wasn't a prodigy among his peers, but what he did have over the others was his determination to succeed and his devotion to the cause of knighthood. He developed a strategy in one of the board games, inspired by a type of polearm, like that of a corseque, or ranseur, or even a spetum – a triple spearhead. It was similar to that of a spearhead assault. The problem with spearheading an assault is that is leaves a risk for being taken advantage of and being flanked. With the triple spearhead, it takes advantage of that risk, and eliminates flanking enemy units, and also acts as two smaller spearheads on either side, further separating the hostile army.

Among the squires, Kane landed in the top ten percentile for strategy.

Top twenty percentile for history.

He, however, suspiciously did not make it into the top twenty percentile for comprehension of the code of chivalry and courtly behavior. It was outrageous to him! To consider all the years he has spent devoting himself to chivalry and acting accordingly amidst the goofing and playing of the other squires. His serious disposition offered contention to dissenters. An explanation was later provided to him that an earlier accusation made against a court noble after alleged corruption via acceptance of bribery – and that, to maintain favor with the court, was forced to remove Kane's score from the board regardless of the truth. Kane begrudgingly followed his knight's word.

His  squire training and duties was supposed to last seven years, as it does for all squires. Considering how he crunched years of education that was supposed to be learned as a young page in two years, and started his training and duties at age 16, this would mean he wouldn't become a knight until he was 23 years old, 2 years after some of his class had already become Knights of the Ram. At the age of 19, three years into his training, a castle watch guard sounded the alarming signaling for an impending bandit raid. All of the guardsman and even the Knights of the Ram were awakened in the dead of night to prepare. The raiding party was still a bit far off and provided time for planning. However, with most of the real strategists off abroad, there was none in the immediate vicinity that could think clearly just minutes after being awoken. As Kane was strapping Sir Cruz's armor on, he pitched his idea: the triple-spearhead. There were objections to using an untested tactic, of course, but Kane continued. The present Knights of the Ram would lead the initial charge and spearhead the raiding party, as they were the most skilled and experienced and could fend off the majority of bandits and outlaws. The following two waves would follow, consisted of soldiers and guardsmen, and would cover the knights' flank and assault two other sections of the party.

There were still some dissent among the present party, but with no time to waste, a couple of the knighthood agreed to his strategy and thereby pulled the support from the remaining soldiers.

When the defense relocated outside the gate, the got into positions. Kane was mounted on Sir Cruz's horse along with him, riding right behind, armed with a spear. Here, his equestrian skills were tested. Mounted on the horse's flanks, holding a spear, right behind Sir Cruz who bore a sword and shield. The shield gave cover to both him and and Kane, and the sword to eliminate close threats. He and the Knights of the Ram, along with their squires, led the charge, with their relief force on standby and prepared to follow in pursuit. As soon as the knights broke through the raiders' charge, the relief force began their own charge. The Knights of the Ram, the undefeated Talborian cavalry, pierced into the heart of the enemy army and plowed all that stood in their way. Before they had a chance to come around and swallow them in a flank, the second wave of soldiers cut down the barbarians while their backs were turned. It has later been referred to unofficially as the hurricane tactic, where a devastating wave would sweep in, and the enemy would falsely consider that the defense - the eye of the storm - and then another wave returns.

In the following battle, Kane had shed his fair share of blood, and ended a couple of lives by his own hand. Not a single Knight of the Ram had perished, and there were but two casualties among the soldiers. Kane's tactic had caught the enemy off guard, resulting in five decimations of the raiding party and the total unconditional surrender of the remaining attackers – a decisive victory.

A ceremony the next day celebrated the bravery and skill of the Knights of the Ram and the Maceron guard. Kane received an honorable mention and, as a reward for his bravery and instrumentality to defeating the enemy with minimal casualties, was permitted to ascend into knighthood early. Shaving two years off his years as a squire, he'd be a Knight of the Ram along with any other passing squires.

Two years later, he was knighted as a Knight of the Ram as Sir Bouenevialle by nobility themselves. Most knights were knighted and serve either a lord or a king, but in Kane’s case, a lady. He was knighted by Lord Ericur Tolkien (an androgynous noble with massive pastures filled with sheep) and was to protect their land, and as a full-fledged knight of the order, he himself was now considered of noble blood. Quickly sending royal servants to the Bounevialle vineyard to help his family and to give his little sister an education that she wouldn’t have otherwise received. There is, suffice to say, a little more Bounevialle wine on the tavern shelves, but it was still a rather rare kind of wine when you compare it to the likes of the cheap Chardonnay  or the finer, more expensive wines. Regardless, Kane was granted a plot of land of his own. Given his inclination to be working within the city and sleeping in the barracks and Knights of the Ram headquarters, he aimed that grant toward the Bouenevialle family. While the day of his knighthood was a day of celebration, his true hardships were only beginning.

Work started the next morning, bright and early. He was deployed along the Talborian border to assess the conditions of the nearby forts, and to assist in whatever way he could. With the Wilderness in the north, Kane often engaged in border control, often with only one or two guards to accompany him. Most of the trouble was the occasional skirmish of bandits, brigands, and outlaws. With the many hard years of training, the martial skill of wild men looked to be child’s play. This was often his job, patrolling the border, escorting trade caravans, and escorting nobles, ambassadors, and diplomats. Staving off highwaymen and assassins alike, it felt as though the childhood nightmares of mean men on the countryside had been turned upside down, as they were but small babes wielding toys in comparison to him. The longer he remained a knight, the less important he felt his role, as his duties were summed down to be a glorified bodyguard. Even in the presence of nobility, standing amongst the court in official business, he didn’t quite feel like he was serving the common people as he expected to be.

These were just small missions. As a newly inducted Knight of the Ram, and with less time of training than the other squires, they were still testing Kane’s reliability. His flawless execution of his appointed tasks assured his superiors of his skill. The missions he took up were gradually bore greater and greater risks and higher reward. The tasks themselves, more prestigious. As a knight, another part of his duties was to administer justice. Missions included personal requests from his lord and barons, and on rare occasions, the king Draco Ferdinand. During peacetime, this often involved plundering bandit camps, rescuing hostages, or investigating kidnappings. This also meant patrolling around the crime-ridden capital of Maceron itself, with a blue and gold tabard dressing his armor, on top of a high horse. This in particular he was especially recognized for, as he did not only just subdue perpetrators - as many knights and guards did not due whether out of apathy or laziness - but also took those shifts as an opportunity to engage with the people. He took their pleas upon himself, whether it was talking down a lord from raising a poor family’s land tax, or paying a broke farmer’s debt off with his own. From settling disputes, tackling pickpockets, to escorting nobles and engaging in battle or honorable combat, Kane was respecting by the people he served. He was the only one that defended them even against other guards and knights… a risky action in itself.

Despite his preference to not get involved, he took part in tournaments to maintain and hone his skills. These tournaments were often international, and Kane was one of the few Knights of the Ram to take part in then. As a particularly trained and undefeated noble cavalry, as was expected of his order, his mere presence was enough to unnerve his competitors. Having won each of his matches - as mere soldiers and regular knights were mildly challenging at best - he took his winnings and invested them in public affairs in Maceron. Of his many opponents, that most challenging had to have been a king’s knight from central Nepharie, a senior glacial knight from the Northlands, and a peculiar camel-mounted orc from Jikari - though the challenge of the latter likely had much to do with his height advantage of sitting on a camel’s hump. It made jousting with him… interesting, to say the least. His experiences in tournaments provides him with insight in dealing with different kinds of obstacles, and has helped him learn to be adaptable.

One of the biggest events in the career of his knighthood was another, yet very different, and much more sensitive hostage situation: rescuing one of the barons. The cause of the event was unclear, but what was certain was that they were holed up in an abandoned fort and demanded two hundred thousand reon, which in itself would damage a huge chunk of the country’s coffers. So it was a decision between agreeing to their demands, or risking the life of a baron, which in itself would reflect badly on him and of the rest of the knighthood - in the long run, it would damage the welfare of the people. It challenged Kane’s stance of not compromising with outlaws. Kane was nothing if not honest, but in a circumstance such as this, there were perhaps people that did not deserve his honesty. With that conclusion, Kane formulated a strategy that’d show the world that Talbor does not compromise and that its people are not to be trifled with.

Through courier, it was established that it was a one-sided negotiation. They were not interested in dead-drops, debts, foreign currency, or anything of the sort. Cold, hard reons are to be delivered in person or the baron gets a scarlet neck tie. The business was to be made inside the fort. The fort overlooks the jigsaw river by about twenty feet at the base of the main tower. Kane agreed to their terms and brought a caravan carrying sacks upon sacks filled with reons, escorted by only himself and two guardsmen. As a show of faith, he appeared without his armor; just his boots, jerkin, and jodhpurs. There was his sword, of course, as it was customary for any noble or knight to carry it with him anywhere, but it was tied to his sheath with a strap of leather. After carrying the sacks of gold into the fort himself, and the guardsmen inconspicuously leaving the field in which the abandoned fort stood, going back into the forest some distance away. The bandits weighed the reons with a scale - it matched what they had expected from the ransom, according to their math. They returned the baron, who fled outside and mounted the horse provided to him.

With Kane and the baron riding away in the caravan at full speed, the baron couldn’t help but point out a peculiar smoke pillar rising from the forest. The sound of several wooden clunks followed, and with a sharp whistle, a giant, flaming, tar-coated boulder flew from the forest at great distance. Unyielding, Kane rode the baron and himself through the field, and the projectile had struck the tower at perfect trajectory with an explosion of dust, rubble, and fire behind him. With the caravan penetrating the treeline, they stopped at the side of the road and took a detour through the forest where Kane had met up with the two guards he was with before. With them, a giant trebuchet, already reloaded with another boulder coated in gooey, black tar, and a torch in one of the guardsmen’s hands.

“How’s our aim, sir?” One of them said smugly.

“Perfect.” Kane assured. “One shot was all it took. But while you’re at it… destroy whatever is left of the fort. We don’t need it anymore.”

“Yes sir.”

Another launch, and the fort walls went crumbling down. Another few and all that would remain is a pile of gravel. Kane and the baron returned to the caravan where he will return him to safety. Thus goes the story of one of the most successful critical-risk missions ever completed. In one fell swoop, a Knight of the Ram rescued the baron and maintained Talbor’s uncompromising image to the world. It was at the cost of a large chunk of the monarchy’s coffers that ultimately went to nobody, but with the stunt pulled, surely there’d be no one stupid enough to risk Talbor’s anger again. The rescued baron honored Kane’s bravery and cunning, and among the three hundred cavalry in the Knights of the Ram, he had been issued a captain at 25 years of age. 

He was in command of his own regiment, a team of four skilled knights. Among them were: Sir Sten Vellen, a pretty abrasive man, sarcastic, generally mean, but his motivations and heart are all in the right place. He was particularly skilled with crossbows. There was Sir Oscar Gene, who had the heart of bard more than he did a knight. Numbingly cheerful, he loved dancing and music, but was also the phalanx among them - his armor was heavy, and he bore a tall tower shield, a lance, and a gladius. Sir Alexander Xerxes, a half-orc, and was a particular curious case among the Knights of the Ram, as they often took only humans. His martial skill was incredible though, and paired with two war axes and a tall morningstar, only Oscar seemed capable of defending against his strength and fury. The fourth was a fresh knight, new to the order, Sir John March. He appeared naive and humble at the surface, much like a young boy, but the truth is that he became a knight earlier than many did, at the age of 20, because of his own skill and bravery. Put what looks to be a shy young man on the battlefield, and you’ll see him taunting and laughing at his opponents as he gave in to the thrill of battle. He bore a classic shield and longsword combo and was an exceptional jouster.

Despite the absurdly diverse team of knights at his disposal, who Kane himself contributed to with his stern and uptight demeanor, they came to be more like brothers than they were his subordinates. An inseparable team that, when working together, seemed to be unstoppable as they played upon each others strengths and weaknesses. Further, as miracles would have it, they all shared the same aspirations as Kane. These four knights in particular seemed to have been inspired by Kane’s oaths as he entered knighthood, that they too took up the ideals of liberty and justice, performing duty and services for the people and the people alone. Only on one drunken night of revelry did they admit that, if ever given the opportunity, would work with Kane. The miracle of being paired up with men like himself appeared a little less magical at the discovery that this arrangement was made out of requests, but it was heartwarming to realize that the superiors agreed to it.

Years later, after countless missions and adventures, and patrolling the city making a name for themselves as the knights of the people, things took a turn for the worse. On a lone night patrol through the city of Maceron, he stumbled upon candlelight emanating from inside a warehouse. Peering through the window to investigate, he spotted the baron he had saved from years ago in a conversation with a noble, and couple of other dirty men; shady types. He became alarmed when he noticed two orcs covered in rags, scarred and gagged. Slowly and carefully, he moved the window until there was but a crack and he could hear what they were saying.

To sum up what’s been heard, the noble employed mercenaries and slavers. The two orcs on the ground were supposedly warriors from Jikari. The baron himself was being bribed to allow the noble’s activities to continue - a process which had been going on for quite some time. From the sounds of it, even years. With the involvement of the baron and a noble, Kane feared the worst. He left the scene before he was discovered and returned to the barracks where the Knights of the Ram were stationed to talk to the headmaster of the order, Sir Fallon.. Sharing his concerns, about his fear of corruption in Talbor’s government. Fallon appeared solemn. For a few minutes he was speechless, but finally returned to Kane with a grave warning: to keep his nose out of business that didn’t concern him.

Kane, mortified, returned to his quarters as well as the quarters of his men. He shared everything he learned about corruption among the royalty and the nobles, and even Sir Fallon of the Knights of the Ram. His men instantly rallied behind him and began attempting to figure out a plan about how they were going to handle this. They all knew what had to be done, but none wished to say it aloud. A coup d’etat was in order, but the five men, Knights of the Ram or not, weren’t capable of doing it alone. So their goal was to risk going around and talking to the other knights of the order and try to persuade them to follow their cause. Kane, concerned first and foremost for the people, didn’t want to involve them in anything that might result in their harm. Perhaps, in his heart, Kane always knew there was something wrong with the monarchy. The people were said and distrusting of the guards, nobles, and knights.

Unfortunately, their coup didn’t go far. Foiled in the early stages of their plan, one of the contacted knights had contacted the Sir Fallon and told him about the stratagem Kane’s regiment was up to. The next time when the team was together, the Knights of the Ram stormed around Kane’s regiment with spears and swords circling all around them. The headmaster followed after, and informed Kane and his crew of his awareness of their scheming. They were taken away, tossed into the dungeon, and was scheduled for execution the next day. There were no words between the five men that night. Just solemn, dismayed glances and broken spirits.

The next morning, they held true to their word. His majesty, King Draco Ferdinand, had been buttering up the crowds and the people with words of their treachery and selfishness. When the priest of Adreal sung his prayers, Ferdinand asked Kane for his final words. He shouted into the crowd claims of corruption. About how he found the baron and nobleman, and the slavers and orcs in the warehouse the previous night. How the nobility was unscrupulous and corrupt, accepted bribes and perpetuated slavery. He shouted his experiences with the people, about how the nobility took advantage of the poor, and the number of debts Kane had repayed for them, the inordinate taxes he relieved them of. His reminders of all the things he has done for the people seem to have hit the crowd’s soft spot as indicated by how their demands for his execution and yelling traitor died down to nothing but silence. His noble actions apparently went unaware to even Sir Fallon, who solemnly looked away from Kane as he issued his last words.

Without so much as a suiting final phrase of goodbye, Kane went silent and accepted his fate. Instead, Ferdinand waved his hand for the executioner to stand by. He responded to his last words hesitantly. He expressed his shame in this misunderstanding. While Kane’s skill in oration served him well here, Ferdinand has had more experience in doing so - but even then, Kane could tell his words were insincere. The misunderstanding, he explained, had much in part to do with corruption among the nobles. A cunning choice of words on his behalf, as admission of fault made the argument more credible if one would willingly proclaim something that made a bad appearance of himself. He explained how he didn’t have full control over the land’s nobility. He explained that Kane must have misheard the conversation at the time due to his anxiety over the situation. That they had in fact rescued those two orc warriors from another noble’s control and were already released to return to Jikari.

In fact, that nobleman’s execution was scheduled to follow Kane’s and his regiment.

Guards escorted a well-dressed man up onto the headsman’s platform, cuffed and gagged. As a boot pushed him to kneeling onto the platform, he turned to face Kane wide-eyed with fear. This nobleman was, in fact, the same one he saw from last night.

The king continued. As a result, he would pardon the regiment as a token of forgiveness and understanding. Their goals, after all, were noble and for the welfare of the people. They could not let something as a coup go off so easy however. Each knight involved in the attempted coup were stripped of their knighthood and were demoted to simple guardsmen. But because of their skill and talent together, they will be permitted to work together as a separate division of the guard, G-2, of which Kane will be the captain. Kane and his men were subsequently released, and as they had done so, the headsman swung his gargantuan axe, and decapitated the nobleman’s head.

“Slavers,” the Ferdinand said, “and all those who tread on the rights of others… do not have the right to any last words.”

The crowd cheered wildly, and Kane and his men were escorted to their old quarters to pack all of their things, get proper food and rest, and then move to the new barracks where they will be stationed for now on. As Kane and king Draco Ferdinand went their separate ways, they met each other’s gaze. There he saw the truth. The stern expression and eyes of the cobra met Kane’s indignance, and amber eyes shone ferocity like a mongoose. It was at that moment they both knew that this battle was far from over.

It has been three months since that day.

[b][u]Family:[/u][/b]
Horace Bounevialle, Father, 50, location: Bounevialle Vineyard
Amelia Bounevialle, Mother, 45, location: Bounevialle Vineyard
Irene Bounevialle, Sister, 22, location: Unknown [i](traveling)[/i]

[u][b]Relationships: [/b][/u]
| [b]Sir Fallon[/b] | [b]Traitor[/b] | [b]Ex-master[/b] | [i]“I used to respect and admire this man. When I was a boy, I aspired to be like him. Honorable. Chivalrous… but he is a traitor to everything we are supposed to stand for, and I’ll never find it in my heart to forgive him for his treachery.”[/i] |

| [b]Morag-Nog[/b] | [b]Respected[/b] | [b]Honored citizen[/b] | [i]“This woman is a highly talented inventor. Orc or not, I am honored to have such an individual within the walls of Maceron and it is my pleasure to serve such an artisan. I only wish I could do more to curb the prejudice her kind faces within Talbor."[/i] |
  
[b][u]Weaponry:[/u][/b]
[i]Large weapon:[/i] A spontoon, otherwise known as a half-pike, is a 6-7 foot spear. Kane's in particular is almost 7 feet in length, and has the spear-head of a pike.
[i]Medium weapon:[/i] A bastard sword, otherwise known as a two-handed longsword. The length of the sword is such that, while capable of being used one-handed, and also has a long handle, so its capabilities are maximized when used with two hands. Kane's in particular has a black leather grip on the handle, a conical shaped pommel, and a long blade. The sword itself is about 4 feet in length.
[i]Small weapon[/i]: A dagger. The dagger that Kane possesses is nothing special or extraordinary. It is simply an emergency back-up in case he has been disarmed of his other two weapons. He keeps it hidden in his boot.

[b]Abilities:[/b] As once being a Knight of the Ram, Kane possesses martial prowess equal to that of ten soldiers. Capable of carrying out missions and objectives single-handedly that’d normally take a squad of infantrymen to perform. His technique with a wide variety of weapons lends to him a flexibility that’d be useful in most combat situations, though his greatest prowess comes from the use of spears, pikes, and swords, keeping his enemies at a distance while taking the advantage of his superior reach. Even if the enemy gets around his reach, he can use his spear much like he would use a staff and use the shaft of his weapon to pummel the enemy away. He is exceptional with his bastard sword, a two-handed longsword. His skill with the blade, maneuverability, and strength are acknowledged by his peers and would outmatch any adversary without extensive training in combat. He also carries his armor well, and knows how to shift his weight [i]just so[/i], that he can maneuver in it to compensate for his lack of speed inside it. He is an expert equestrian.

His training has done more for him than just his skill in arms and armor. Extensive training exercises and workout routines in the Knights of the Ram are some of the strictest and most rigid to be found. The order of undefeated cavalry also train up in the mountains where the air is thin. So not just their muscular strength, but their endurance as well, is tested to absurd extremes. Pelted by rocks and struck by wooden swords has risen his pain tolerance to a degree where anything short of being slashed by a real blade would do little to slow him down. Being a knight, he also wears his heavy plated armor on a regular basis - where I will leave you to simply wonder how strong the man is.

In addition to his physical attributes, both knights and noblemen receive excellent educations. This means that Kane probably knows a fair deal more than the common man or woman. He knows his history, is literate, understands mathematical skills and applications, taught extensively in politics and courtship, and other fields of education befitting of a noble (such as dance). While not necessarily an ability, Kane does possess a leader’s charisma. Whether or not he is everyone’s favorite person isn’t the issue, but he can inspire and encourage others under his banner. It is a combination of good will, passion, and sincerity that garners the trust of others and makes people want to believe in him.

[b]Weaknesses:[/b] Naturally, Kane [i]is[/i] only human. He shares all of the same mortal weaknesses as we do. We don’t necessarily like hot or cold environments, despite our ability to adapt to it. We’re pretty squishy without armor, our strength pales in comparison to the likes of orcs and minotaurs. Kane’s particular weaknesses does come from the fact that he [i]does[/i] wear armor. Despite him moving very easily in full-on plated armor, it still slows him down, which would mean an unencumbered opponent can take advantage of that. Being skilled in all sorts of weapons makes finding a duel that is weighted in his adversary’s favor something of a challenge, and while he is exceptional using his sword and spear, he isn’t a master swordsman nor is he a master with a spear.

His biggest weaknesses have nothing to do with physical flaws, or flaws in his skill however - he excels in those areas, and he is also a strategist. The best thing to do is to take advantage of his character. This does often involve delving into unscrupulous territory, but it does get the job done. Kane, being naturally self-sacrificing and altruistic, will put himself on the line for others. Taking advantage of that will put him at risk at either injury or death, for instance, jumping in front of an arrow or trading the custody of an innocent with himself. Even in non-combat circumstances, this can be taken advantage of if you wish to take someone’s money within the law. 

Always wanting to see the good in everybody and believing most people are capable of redemption, that can be taken advantage of. But Kane does have an intuition for sensing motives, so if not of Kane, then his mercy, as it has given you another opportunity. You can definitely take advantage of the people around him since people tend to believe in his word. He also abides by honor and the code of chivalry. Work outside of that for an unfair advantage. The best way to combat him and undermine him is to target his allies. If you apply the pressure and don’t give him time to think or strategize, and demand quick decision making, he can either cave in to your requests/demands, or he may lose his clear head and become sloppy.

[b]Companion:[/b] Kane has a shire horse as his steed; a tall, strong, dark brown shire horse with its signature white fur flaring around her hooves and a black mane. This tall and mighty horse is named Edna. Along with Edna, Kane is the captain of the elite G-2 “outcast” regiment of the Talborian guard, all of whom were once Knights of the Ram like himself. He has 4 men under his command: Sten Vellen, Oscar Gene, Alexander Xerxes, and John March.

[b]Other:[/b] It's really important to me that you understand that this guy can bust some sick moves on the dance floor.
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[hider=Miscellaneous High Fantasy]

[hider=D&D 5e (Homebrew): Hungwar]
Name: Hungwar
Race: Gnoll
Class: Barbarian
Level: 3
Background: Outlander

Attributes:
16 STR
16 DEX
16 CON
8 INT
12 WIS
10 CHA

HP: 21(?)
AC: 16

Skill Proficiencies:

Athletics (+5)
Intimidation (+4)
Perception (+5)
Survival (+5)

[hr]
Features and Traits:

Ability Score Increase - +2 Dexterity and +2 Constitution (Already allocated)

Skill Bonuses - +2 Intimidate, +2 Perception

Languages - Can speak and read Common and Gnoll, can understand Abyssal

Size - Medium (6'5")

Speed - 30 Feet (Average)

Scent - Can detect opponents within 30 feet by sense of smell. If the opponent is upwind, the range increases to 60 feet; if downwind, it drops to 15 feet. Strong scents, such as smoke or rotting garbage, can be detected at twice the ranges noted above. Overpowering scents, such as skunk musk or troglodyte stench, can be detected at triple normal range. When a creature detects a scent, the exact location of the source is not revealed—only its presence somewhere within range. The creature can take a move action to note the direction of the scent. Whenever the creature comes within 5 feet of the source, the creature pinpoints the source’s location.

Bone-Crushing Jaws - You gain a bite attack that does 1d6 damage and you are proficient in it. If used in a full attack round, it can be used as a secondary attack, and you add your BAB -5, and the damage bonus is half of your Strength modifier rounded down.*

Claw Fighter - Use vicious claws as weapons with 1d4 damage each. Consider them light blades for the purpose of powers and feats. You are proficient with them. If used in a full attack round, it can be used as a secondary attack, and you add your BAB -5, and the damage bonus is half of your Strength modifier rounded down.*

Rampage - Upon reducing an enemy to 0 health, you may use a bonus action to move up to half your speed and make a 1d4 bite attack.

Carrion Eater - Even buried corpses and bones can satisfy a gnoll's appetite. You gain a +4 feat bonus to saving throws against poison and to Constitution checks against disease.

*At the expense of missing out on some Barbarian starting equipment:
• (a) a greataxe or (b) any martial melee weapon
• (a) two handaxes or (b) any simple weapon 

Barbarian Features and Traits:

Unarmored Defense - While you are not wearing any armor, your Armor Class equals 10 + your Dexterity modifier + your Constitution modifier. You can use a shield and still gain this benefit. (Already allocated)

Reckless Attack - You can throw aside all concern for defense to attack with fierce desperation. When you make your first attack on your turn, you can decide to attack recklessly. 
Doing so gives you advantage on melee weapon attack rolls using Strength during this turn, but attack rolls against you have advantage until your next turn.

Danger Sense - You gain an uncanny sense of when things nearby aren’t as they should be, giving you an edge when you dodge away from danger. You have advantage on Dexterity saving throws against effects that you can see, such as traps and spells. To gain this benefit, you can’t be blinded, deafened, or incapacitated.

Rage - In battle, you fight with primal ferocity. On your turn, you can enter a rage as a bonus action. While raging, you gain the following benefits if you aren’t wearing heavy armor:

• You have advantage on Strength checks and Strength saving throws.
• When you make a melee weapon attack using Strength, you gain a bonus to the damage roll that increases as you gain levels as a barbarian, as shown in the Rage Damage column of the Barbarian table.
• You have resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage.

If you are able to cast spells, you can’t cast them or concentrate on them while raging. Your rage lasts for 1 minute. It ends early if you are knocked unconscious or if your turn ends and you haven’t attacked a hostile creature since your last turn or taken damage since then. You can also end your rage on your turn as a bonus action. Once you have raged the number of times shown for your barbarian level in the Rages colum n of the Barbarian table, you must finish a long rest before you can rage again.

Path of the Totem Warrior - Beast Sense (Ritual Spell), Speak With Animals (Ritual Spell)

Spirit of the (Wolf) Hyena - While you're raging, your friends have advantage on melee attack rolls against any creature within 5 feet of you that is hostile to you. The spirit of the hyena makes you a leader of hunters.
[hr]

Lore: "I was born in Musclegore's last litter, the pack leader of one of many nomadic clans of the Butcher's Brood, gnoll clans that worshiped the demon prince, Yeenoghu. I was the youngest pup of one of the most powerful gnolls in the rolling plains. Not many gnolls survive infancy, because after just a few days of being born, we pups fight and devour one another until there's no more competition for food or shelter. In most litters, there's the victor, and there's always at least one runt... but in my case, every pup I shared the litter with, I gobbled up! I impressed Musclegore! He gave me a namesake from "hunger" and "war", hoping that I would eventually lead the clan to great hunts and slaughters. My four elder brothers from past litters, Ygrash, Manglemane, Rakdr, and Festerchew, all victors, were ignored because of the promise that I, the youngest, showed for the good of the pack. I guess you'd say they were jealous!

They raised me like any other gnoll in the clan, but more was expected of me. I don't blame them. If I could distract the pack leader so much as a pup, then I damn better not show signs of weakness. The Brood likes fury and chaos, savagery and brutality. Any mercy and nice things, and they exile you or kill you... but there was one night when everything went wrong. I dreamed, and my dreams were filled with blue butterflies, everywhere! Then they eventually still and make a bare-skin's face, and it spoke. It said it was a voice of Desna. Said it was The Great Dreamer. A goddess of freedom and luck. It said she brought liberation, revolution, and exploration. It's breath smelled like a fruity odor and it kept speaking. Said she wanted to reclaim the domain of beasts from a... I then awoke, not remembering the name. But I also felt something strange. It felt like it forced change in me. Something was different. Nothing since then was the same.

I was less brutal and Musclegore blinded himself to it in light of my strength, but my brothers noticed things. At first, things were little. Little things like hunting alone, and bringing back prey with little struggle marks. They were quick kills, bites to the neck. No chunks of flesh missing. I was only hunting, not trying to make deer suffer. No point. Then it got bigger. When I'd challenge a pack mate's strength sometimes, I'd tell them that they'd kill the clan's slaves because they were too weak to keep pace with the pack. And we'd fight, and I'd beat them, but I let 'em live. I claimed it wasn't mercy, but a greater victory to let them live humiliated than killing 'em! My brothers would come and kill the loser, say there is no room for weakness. But the greatest crime they saw me commit, was when a slave insulted me to my face in private, and I did not punish it. I walked away.

Despite the mantra, "for the good of the pack," my brothers stalked the camp and invaded Musclegore's space and slaughtered our father and pack leader in his sleep out of revenge and anger, because he gave me special treatment, and they think I'm a disgrace. They said they punished him for weakness. But pack mates who followed me, who believed in my strength, called my brothers weak. If they told the truth, then why did they not try to kill me instead? Prove my weakness and not Musclegore's? Pack mates that follow my brothers claim they also saw my weakness. It was my brothers who let me choose between exile and death. Ygrash, the new self-made pack leader, knew that my numbers split the clan and threatened "the good of the pack", but though I was strong of body, they refused me because they said I was weak of heart. I accepted exile and denounced the Brood, say they're disgusting for their traditions. Some gnolls left me after, but what few stayed were still loyal to strength and did not worship Yeenoghu very strongly, and fewer still with brains. But we migrated to Plain's Edge where it touched the forests, and we made it our hunting grounds.

I wanted to create a new pack that defied the traditions from the Brood clans. We are predators, that will not change. Gnolls will forever love to hunt and track, but we will not slaughter. No attacking villages without being provoked. We'd hunt beasts over civilized creatures. We could even trade and maybe barter our service, though I don't care much for the bare-skins. That was a big change next to the style of life we were used to, but as long as I could keep to the pack's hunting tradition and keep 'em in line, it should have ended well for us. We would've shown that we were stronger not just in body, but heart too, if we could swallow our savagery. But that never happened. My brothers came with a hunting party in the dead of night and tore my clan to shreds. We were deceived the day we were exiled into thinking that the clans could live without ever seeing each other again, but we were tracked down and slaughtered for our betrayal. 

I barely escaped with my life that night. My old clan devoured the one I just made, and then took me prisoner, made me a slave. Clapped me in irons and whipped me until my old Brood clan was ready to watch me die. They gave me a choice: true exile, if I survive the pit. They starved me first, and my first fight was against two hyenas. Cruel, that, to have me kill our own companions. They wanted to prove myself a traitor and exile in their slaughter. I did kill them, and then they walked out their strongest dire hyena, and I killed it too and claimed its head. But the last round was one of the pack itself. Manglemane was one of the strongest, second to Ygrash. Either they didn't want me to live, or they'd first make me kill my own brother before I was exiled. I felt no love for the bastard, and my heart wasn't so weak that I wouldn't rip out his neck and eat him at first chance. I killed my brother. Left no body - I ate all of him. Then I limped away into exile to lick my wounds. I vowed to return eventually to finish the job, to destroy my other three brothers and the rest of the Brood.

Nowadays I bide my time. Explore world, be free! Eat food, hunt! *I* think I'm fun. I laugh and I know what I want. Make things exciting. A little *ruff* around the edges, maybe, and I don't respect bald-skin authorities much - too controlling. But I made some allies, and I treat 'em like my pack. My first pack with non-gnolls, but they manage it okay. Bare-skins make great drinks, but they can't hunt or track worth dung, so I must care for them like runt pups... but I... appreciate them. They understand what I have to do one day. I don't want to set 'em bad examples, but they are small bare-skins to me, and I'm not a tall gnoll."


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