A G E
20

R A C E
Argonian

G E N D E R
Female

O C C U P A T I O N
Merchant

A P P E A R A N C E
Furthest-From-Home stands five-foot-eleven, above average for her race. Without the influence of the Hist Sap, Furthest-From-Home's appearance is more human than some of her race. Her eyes have round pupils set in the center of bright blue irises. Like many other Argonians, her skin is covered in greenish-brown scales. She has filed down the claws on her hands and feet to mimic the finger- and toe-nails of men and mer. She's relatively lean with few toned muscles and a long, thin, reptilian tail.

P E R S O N A L I T Y
Furthest-From-Home, like most Argonians due to their overall lack of facial expressions, seems like a cold person. However, people who take the time to interact with her quickly find out this is not the case. Unlike most Argonians of the Empire, Furthest-From-Home has never truly seen herself as being beneath the races of men and mer. Due to her wealthy upbringing, Furthest-From-Home seems to be just like any other cosmopolitan of Cyrodiil, speaking common but not without the infamous Argonian lisp.

Furthest-From-Home values the company of most other races, due to her family's close relations with the Dunmer slave traders she does not view the Dunmer as enemies as do most Argonians. Khajiit, however, are a different story.

Furthest-From-Home has a very inquisitive nature that suits an adventuring lifestyle. Coupled with fine-tuned logic skills, Furthest-From-Home is most at home when solving puzzles or riddles. She has been known to abuse the drink from time-to-time, although she steers clear of any illicit drugs like the infamous skooma. Furthest-From-Home is slow to trust, but is intensely loyal to whomever she chooses to ally herself with. Like many adventurers, Furthest-From-Home is driven by the search for gold and jewels and is willing to do almost anything to get them.

B A C K S T O R Y
Furthest-From-Home hails from the Archein tribe, an Argonian clan whose rise to prominence was built on the Argonian slave trade and for their positions as Imperial lapdogs in Black Marsh. As such, Furthest-From-Home was born into relative affluence. Along with her hatchmates, Furthest-From-Home grew up with Imperial mentors and taught the skills needed for any well-to-do citizen of the Empire: how to read and write, the basics of Imperial history and geography, lessons on the worship of the Nine Divines was also common.

For many years, however, the Archein's wealth and power had been waning. The plantations of Black Marsh proved impossible to cultivate and, in the north, attitudes were turning towards the end of the Argonian slave trade. With less and less money coming in and Imperial authorities going home with grease-less palms, it wasn't long before the Imperial Legion was knocking at their door. Formal charges of slave trading were brought against Furthest-From-Home and her family were brought in to Stormhold. Formal charges were filed. The family had their lands seized and a significant part of their remaining fortune taken in fines and bail for the children; both parents - now approaching their dying days - chose remain in Imperial dungeons until their last breath.

The children left to their own devices, villains in Black Marsh and treated poorly by the Tamrielic races, decided to make a new fortune for themselves abroad in a promising new venture: Akavir.

M O T I V A T I O N
With the decline of the slave trade in Morrowind to the north and Black Marsh proving ever-more impossible to tame, the Archeins have fallen from high graces. By the time Furthest-From-Home reached twenty years old, her family has lost everything. Desperate times call for desperate measures and for an Archein - disliked in Black Marsh and ostracized in the rest of the Empire - there are few options left but to seek their fortune on foreign shores.

E Q U I P M E N T
1 Steel Sword
5 Journals
2 Store Ledgers
10 Inkwells
3 Quills
3 Gray tunics
1 Set of Leather Armor
150 Gold

Store Inventory
2 Elven Longswords
10 Iron Daggers
40 Bandanas/Kerchiefs
30 Pairs of Soft Leather Boots
30 Pairs of Leather Gloves
20 Linen Shirts
20 Linen Pants
10 Plain Dresses
15 Sets of Iron Cutlery
10 Shovels
10 Pickaxes
5 Cast-Iron Cooking Pots
5 Sets of Silverware
40 Candles
150 Pounds of Raw Rice
50 Pounds of Salted/Smoked Fish

A P P A R E L
Furthest-From-Home typically wears a gray tunic and a pair of tailored leather pants. However, she has also packed a set of leather "travelling clothes," for when she leaves town. These are leather bracers, thick leather boots and a fitted leather jerkin. While in town or out of town she typically carries her sword on her hip as a means of self-defense and as a way to cling to the station her family once held.

H O U S E H O L D

O V E R V I E W
The Yronwoods are a proud house with a storied history. Before the arrival of the Rhoynar, the Yronwoods ruled over a large and powerful Dornish kingdom that rivaled that of the Martells. Yronwood claims were fertile farmlands, well-wooded and rich in deposits of iron, tin, and silver. At their height, they were the richest of the Dornish kingdoms.

Now, they hesitantly bend the knee to the Rhoynar-backed house from Sunspear. When Nymeria landed along with the ten thousand ships, her Rhoynar bolstered the armies of House Martell. With her might, Nymeria launched a campaign to unite all of Dorne under the red sun banner. One of Yronwood's longest-standing rivalries is with House Fowler of Skyreach due to their role in Nymeria's War.

M I L I T A R Y
The Yronwoods are the second most powerful of the Dornish houses. They are capable of fielding between 9,000 and 10,000 soldiers at full-strength. In addition, the Yronwoods have a strong chivalric tradition especially among the Dornishmen. Landed knights under the Yronwood banner number close to 100. An elite group of ten knights make up Yronwood's elite guard, all knights in emply of House Yronwood report to Lord-Commander Martin Yronwood - Lady Yronwood's younger brother.

R E L A T I O N S

R E C E N T H I S T O R Y
Lady Yronwood birthed an heir the same year as King Daeron's coronation; the babe cements the union between the Martells and their Yronwood bannermen. Just a year before, however, her elder brother died a freak accident;with no heirs of his own, House Yronwood passed to Lady Irene. Prince Osvald Martell has journeyed to Kings Landing to congratulate the new King on his coronation. Lord Martin Yronwood is thus far unmarried, though he is nearly thirty.

B A S I C
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Occupation/Titles: Knight of the Kingsguard
Birthplace: Driftmark, Crownlands, Westeros
Faith: The Seven

A P P E A R A N C E
A bastard of House Velaryon, Corlys has the silver hair of Old Valyria but the muddy brown eyes of Westerosi stock. Corly's stands six-foot-three, his height diminished somewhat by his stocky stature. He has, by all accounts, a body fit for a knight of his standing. He carries a well-crafted steel longsword along with his kingsguard attire, on the hilt is the seahorse of House Velaryon.

Though he is a knight, the only fighting he has taken part in has been in knightly tourneys and during training fights. As a result, his face is relatively unmarred save for a sizeable, round scar on the upper-right hand side of his face. The result of an encounter with an over-zealous steed during a jousting bout.

B A C K S T O R Y
Corlys is the product of a tryst between a handmaiden and a minor lord of House Velaryon. For most of his life, he served under a single master - an old knight, a veteran of the Dance only a few years prior. Though not the most able-bodied master, the old knight was more-than-competent in molding the young Corlys into the knight he is today. Corlys finished his vigil and was knighted for his loyalty to tending for his infirm master.

After his knighting, his noble father discreetly sent him a gift , a long-sword, to congratulate him which he has carried to this day. In addition, Corlys was employed as a sworn sword under Lord Velaryon and spent his time keeping the king's peace in Driftmark.

Corlys has also participated in several tourneys across the south, growing his prestige with each bout. On the twenty-fifth anniversary of King Aemon III Targaryen's reign, Corlys earned his spot on the Kingsguard's radar by winning a tourney dedicated to the Broken King.

Lord Velaryon, who at the time was looking to fill a vacancy on the Queen Consort's personal guard, took notice of Waters' skill and after the tourney was over he appointed the young knight to the guard.

It was within a year that the intirgues of Kings Landing wrapped themselves around Corlys. An agent working for a rival house had been spying on the Queen's private doings for several months, tracking her movements and when and where she was with her guardsmen. One night, while patrolling, Corlys had a strong intuitive feeling that something was amiss and began to search for the sourve of the feeling. The spy awaited with hushed breath and just on the verge of being discovered, he tried to make a break for it.

However, Corlys managed to snag the rogue by his shirt and subdued him before he could escape. Within the day he was before the king's courts and sentenced.

Now on the radar of the Red Keep for potentially saving the Queen's life - and certainly saving her further shame - Corlys was one of the first picks for the Kingsguard once a spot had opened up.

R E L A T I O N S H I P S
-

Age: 43
Gender: Male
Class: Loner
Occupation: Wandering Priest

Personality: Amos is a somber and sullen man. He’s a man who’s lost much and it’s changed him in ways that most people today can relate to. Amos is a serious type, he has few words but he chooses them carefully and never wastes them. Amos appears to fear little and feel little. Those who have travelled with him for a while however tell tales about a man who always knows what to say. A man who, despite everything, holds out hope for the future. He’s a man of unshakeable faith, he trusts in his God to provide everything he needs to survive and thus far, He has provided.

Amos, however, seems cold and distant to many and travelling with him might not seem like the most exciting. He has a penchant for not planning ahead, relying more on impromptu revelations which have kept him alive thus far. Amos is a man seemingly unconcerned with his own life; however, in the pursuit of his calling he has been known to rush headlong into danger. One of the few times Amos is emotive is when someone is in trouble.

Background: Very few people know anything about Amos. He’s been a loner since the beginning – a long eight years – during that time many people have met him but very few have gotten to know the man personally. Those who have met Amos will tell you many things. That he had a large family and lost them all to the end of the world and now he wanders the wastelands awaiting his own death only he can never seem to find it. Others might tell you that he came from far the west bringing a message of hope and salvation for a new generation born after the collapse. But the truth is much less glamorous.

Amos was born on the banks of the Mississippi River in a small town in rural Louisiana. His mother had seven children, of which he was the youngest. As a single mother, she worked two jobs to support her burgeoning household. She worked as a seamstress and also as a receptionist at an old motel. She worked hard her whole life and if you asked her it was well worth it to see her seven sons and daughters grow up to have their own families.

Amos, as the youngest child, was also the most-often picked upon. From a young age he learned that to get anywhere he had to take what was his and never let it go. Whether it was food at the dinner table or the journal he kept his most private thoughts in, Amos never let go. As the youngest child, he was also the one who got stuck with the hand-me-downs. His first day of school he went into the classroom wearing pair of blue jeans with a patch sewn on the seat of them. The kids in his classroom teased him so hard that he went home to momma crying about it.

The next day he went to school wearing a brand-new pair of blue jeans bought for him by his eldest brother, Marquise. Marquise as the eldest brother grew up with a great deal of responsibility, but he took special pity on young Amos. As luck would have it, Marquise was exactly the kind of male role model Amos needed. Marquise made his living crawfishing in the Mississippi River and when Amos was out of school and old enough to go out on his own, Marquise would bring him on-board to help with the fishing.

When he was in school, however, Amos didn’t do too well. His school was poorly funded because it was in the middle of a poor, rural district. On top of that, Amos was never all that bright in the first place. When he was sixteen years old he dropped out of high school to work full time on his brother’s fishing boat. For many years he and his brother pulled in pot after pot teeming with crawdads.

However, after about five years, Marquise’s health started to go south. In the middle of August, he finally succumbed to a bad case of influenza. It would be years before Amos realized that his brother had been HIV positive and that’s eventually what killed him. At his funeral, Amos wept and wailed, mourning the death of his beloved brother. His neighborhood preacher knelt down beside him, laid his hand on his back, and told him, “Now son, ain’t no reason to cry. Your brother, he’s in a much better place now. A place where he is free of suffering. A glorious mansion in the sky,” and he patted his back and stood back up to console the other members of Marquise’s grieving family.

When he got home, Amos did something he had rarely had done before. He dusted off his momma’s old leather-bound bible and he sat down to read it and he took notes. He memorized the scriptures and he read through the book so many times that the leather got a long crease down the middle. He kept on working on the crawfish boat and saving up money until one day he sat down beside his momma and told her that he was going back to school. “I’m gonna be a preacher,” he said. His momma broke down into tears, tears of joy, mind you. She gave him a big, long hug and said, “You’ll make me so proud.”

Amos got his GED and he got into seminary school. It was hard at first but well worth it. Amos applied himself and when he was 28 years old he graduated magna cum laude with his bachelor’s degree in biblical studies and at long last his vision of becoming a preacher came true. He moved up river to Tennessee to pursue a position at a Baptist church in the western part of the state. That’s where he was when the End came.

Like many people when our society began to collapse, the first thing they did was try to locate their loved ones. For Amos, however, that meant travelling many, many miles to his momma’s house in rural Louisiana with his pregnant wife and two kids in-tow. Unfortunately, there was little he could do in his situation. So, he and his family and several members of his congregation met in the Baptist church to ride out the worst of it. Only, the worst of it never passed.

They didn’t have much food beyond what was left in the kitchen of the fellowship hall and once the communion wafers and grape juice were gone, the church was totally out of food within a week. Amos left the church to try and find food, the stores were closed and the streets were empty, he snuck in and filled a backpack full of food and pain relievers for his wife. By the time he returned it was too late.

The half-hour it took him to leave the church and come back was time enough for the infection to spread into the church and take everyone inside with it. Amos tried to reconcile with his wife but she was gone. He changed after that, he travelled down the Mississippi on an old boat to find his momma’s house and maybe what was left of his family. He found nothing.

The house was empty, a note taped to the glass storm door. It said, “Amos, we love you, we’re sorry we can’t stay no longer. We have to go now, we’re taking the old crawfish boat, we’re gonna sail south until we hit land. Love, your sister Dee.”

Amos was changed after that. No longer the goofball family man he used to be. He turned, empty. A husk of what he once was. He had nowhere to go from there. He made due in old family house for a while but he ran out of supplies, he had to keep moving. He prayed and he prayed and he came to a realization.

He came to realize that, perhaps, him leaving the church when he did or him not making it to the old family house before they left, maybe those weren’t mistakes. Maybe he was being saved so he could serve a purpose. So, he wanders, searching for that purpose. Searching for a meaning to all this. He doesn’t know where his next meal is coming from but he’s certain that he won’t die until he fulfills that purpose he’s been called to.

I suppose in a way he is searching for his own death, a release. But he sure as Hell ain’t found it yet.

Goal: To fulfill his purpose in this life and finally find rest.
Equipment: A sturdy and straight walking stick, a tattered leather jacket, a journal, two pencils, a hunting knife, a leather-bound Bible, a .22 rifle, 18 .22 rounds, an internal frame hiking pack, a fire-starter, two hard plastic water bottles, several re-sealable plastic bags (filled with cooked meat, foraged nuts and berries), aluminum cookware
Weapons: Staff (specialized): No matter what the threat is, Amos’ go-to weapon is his trusty walking stick. Always by his side and ready to go.

Rifle (secondary): Admittedly, the .22 rifle is weak as a defense weapon, but for hunting small game it gets the job done.

Knife (secondary): As a last resort. His knife isn’t built for fighting, but in a pinch it could come in handy.

Skills: Expert Staff, Advanced Survival, Advanced Persuasion, Adept Cooking, Adept Long guns, Novice First Aid, Novice Knifes

Family: Wife, Annabelle: Deceased

Daughter, Jessica: Deceased

Son, Adam: Deceased

Brother, Marquise: Deceased

Other siblings: Unknown

Mother: Unknown

Miscellaneous: