Name: Kiera Forecall 'Champion of Borealis'

Appearance:

Class: Templar

Devotion: Borealis, the god of light and truth. What other god could be needed more right now?

Backstory:
Kiera was raised to join the army, it was tradition for the noble family 'Forecall' to send their eldest into scouting divisions. This was to change after she proved herself in a young tourney held in nicer times, and she would be called to serve amongst the paladins of Borealis. Her father, although furious tradition be breached, let her go much to her delight.

She felt at home there, and became one of the most aspiring acolytes. However, as time passed she became more and more displeased with the order she found herself in. Her devotion to Borealis was beyond doubt, of course, but she felt many aspects of the order failed to represent him as well as most would think. She expressed doubts to the higher ups about what happened behind closed doors, what 'truths' were pulled from poor victims in the darkest corners of the abbeys. These doubts soon began to make her the target of hostility, especially since she had began to gain a zealous and like-minded following who rallied against torture and the like regarding it as unholy.

Before things got too heated, Kiera left the capital province. She saw a call to arms to banish terrible forces of evil far away from the turbulence at home, and she views this as a way to free herself of her order and still do what she believes in. One of her key motives is to reform a new branch of her church, one that is based on light more than torture.

Character sheet:

Name: Alliana Valas

Appearance:



Class: Half-Vampire

Devotion: None

Familiar: None

Backstory: World is not fair... It never was and never will be. Alliana was born from the 'unholy' union a simple woman traveling as a bard made with a creature of the night. Well at least that's the story those who hate her very existence stick with. It was never a good life, not from the moment she was born. They were always on the move, she was always being hidden away by her mother as a baby. Eventually her father took her away as she started to grow up. She didn't know what she was, neither did her mother though she had figured it out with time. Even among the creatures of the night she was not welcomed though. Her father despite making her, still did not show any affection. She was a half-breed, she was useful only as a pawn and nothing else.

As such the wheels of time rolled, she grew, became stronger in the meantime, learned to harness her what was rightfully hers as the sleeping power of the blood. She learned to fight, to read and to think. Finally she learned to chose for herself. For she had learned the reality of the spawn of night. The way they acted, the way they chose to. Their betrayal towards her from the moment she was taken away. One day and a single night per year. That was what she was granted as freedom each cycle of seasons. She searched for her mother, but never found her under the pretext that the world was vast. Such it was until the day she found a single corpse in her way back to the fold. The bones of a single body laid in the middle of a forest, all clothing tattered from the passage of time and elements, but traces remained of the decaying ornate lute she'd recognize anywhere and the medallion in the shape of a rose. It was still laying in the same way it had been forsaken. Not even the beasts had tried to eat the remains. There was only a single trace of the attacker, a pair of holes on the collar of the shirt...

“This world's not fair...” She mumbled quietly in the night, never returning to her father afterwards and instead devoting her existence to a single quest – kill every single beast of the night. As many as she can before she herself is taken down. She had no care about death, she cared not if she's going to be damned for eternity in the afterlife as long as she bring as many of those beasts with her as she can.

That was how her true story began. Afterwards she became a hunter as she decided to. One by one, being by being she'd kill as many as she can until a certain Call to arms poster came to her attention one night while she was quietly spending time under roof of a shed, hiding from a downpour. It was a good chance to do what she currently did best."Demon huh...? Finally a big one." She muttered, grabbing the poster and hiding it into the folds of her garments, pulling the heavy cloak as she ventured into the storm. She had a goal.

Name: 'Father' Jericho Cross


Class: Priest

Devotion: Shee'l Tor

Backstory:
Every deity has its priesthood, something readily apparent for gods widely accepted and respected, not so much for the ones more frowned upon or otherwise seen as distasteful. Jericho was born into a family lineage of priests and priestesses for the god Shee'l Tor, a lineage that maintained the rituals and beliefs that such priests of a being representative of shadow and death would hold. To the uninitiated of his homeland, a place he refuses to speak of now, they were oft misidentified as necromancers, defilers of the dead, and treated as such by the far more prevalent God's followers, those of Borealis and Ragnarok. Not that his Cross family ever laid blame at the feet of such beings, merely at the feet of their misguided followers.

Sure enough, Jericho would follow in the footsteps of his family traditions, taking up the mantle of a Priest of Shee'l Tor as every firstborn had before. As was almost traditionally expected, someone found the shrine of Shee'l Tor and went crying to the town, claims of a death cult or worse reaching the ears of the leadership of said town. Trusting in his God, Jericho would find himself escaping the grasping hands of the angry townfolk, their pitchforks and torches casting long shadows that readily hid one who earnestly professed and followed the faith of Shee'l Tor. From here, Jericho would adopt the humble title of Father and wander the land, administering to those that followed a similar creed, but where not priests in and of themselves.

While honing his craft, word would come of a call to arms, of things most foul arising in the Castle Obsidian. While he had little interest in the gold and fame promised, something drew him to this call none the less. Things were amiss, his instincts warning him of things that needed addressed. He could not place what, yet his calling commanded that he go, so with a prayer offered to his God, he would find passage to the aforementioned location within the call to arms. After all, a man who walked with death at one side, shadow at the other, where else would one such as he be found than at a place that reeked of foul intent?

Name: Barrington 'Barry' Waldorf the 5th.

Appearance:

Class: Engineer.

Devotion: Kessel.

Backstory: Of the Waldorf family line Barrington is among the most eccentric of the aristocrats of the city Heidon. Ever since he was young he was surrounded by the haughty and overly well mannered ilk of nobles who were hardly worthy of their position, at least as far as the bright young man was concerned. Unlike most he was never satisfied with the idea of sitting around looking pretty much preferring to make a name for himself that wasn't just Waldorf. He loved tinkering with whatever he could get his hands on making trinkets and gadgets of usefulness with surprisingly good results despite only self-training to rely on. On the bright side he was a younger son allowing him to pursue his inventing under a teacher eventually which helped to curb some of his...exuberance in making items of questionable safety to himself, but mostly others. His family was not particularly pleased with his total apathy towards all things high society but his gadgets did prove to be profitable so they allowed it though he became something of a black sheep in all but name.

Barry has come a long way since often taking to the road to find inspiration as well as customers for his increasingly more potent inventions and growing expertise in tinkering with weapons, armor, and sometimes transportation. Given enough time he can make rather impressive contraptions or maybe help improve that eye sore of a building's design. His work has become more artistic over time as well as his process of creation with simple implements seeming far too mundane, especially since he could always improve on them to make them just that much better. Of course that would be true if he didn't have innumerable projects coming to mind at any one time coursing through his mind all of which he will likely never be able to finish as there are always adjustments to be made. During his travels Barry has made equal parts trouble and profit while living out his dream as it were.

Barrington eventually found out about the call to arms and after some half attentive though it occurred to him that it would be a perfect testing ground for some of his inventions plus the thought of adventure, not to mention funds, quite appealed to him so he would go to this town and do what he did best. After all Kessel favors the bold and brilliant right?

Inventions:
-Grenado, 5-7ft being closest to a minimum safe distance for explosion not counting random shrapnel.
-Firebomb, 3-5ft spread/spray of the fuel.
-Springrazor, 2-4ft effective radius but the closer the better.
-Dragoon pistol, between a flintlock pistol of the time and blunderbuss in size but firing similar shot to the latter.

Name: Iskarii Asha



Class: Priestess

Devotion: Ragnarok

Backstory: Asha is from the northern tribes, born to the warrior clan Iskarii and raised on the dark tundra, far from civilization. Among the clan, men and women both were taught to hunt and protect the clan from the beasts that lurked in the darkness, preying on the solitary and weak. Their life was a difficult one, fighting against hunger, cold, and monsters to survive. When she was of age, Asha became one of the clan's shieldmaidens, a role passed down among daughters of the clan. She was a protector and warrior, dedicated to combating any threat to her people.

Not long after, warrior-priests of Ragnarok happened upon the clan while on a quest hunting a holy relic. They were shown hospitality by the Iskarii to rest and recover before continuing their journey and shared with their hosts the message of their patron. The strength and will of these men, brought on by their faith, impressed Asha, who, along with many others, believed this Ragnarok to be a manifestation of their own patron god of battle. How else could these men find such power? Believing it to be her sacred calling, Asha set out with the warrior-priests in their journey as a guide and warrior, bearing her mother's shield as a reminder of her duty and her clan as well as her newfound devotion to Ragnarok.

The long journey brought Asha far from her home, a "savage" in the civilized world of lords and ladies. She found herself traveling between villages and hamlets to get by, offering her shield and Ragnarok's might to those that would give her hospitality for a short while before moving on. A wandering sellsword that drove off highwaymen for little more than a loaf of bread and drink of wine.

The call to arms was brought to her attention by a priest in one such village, who read it to her upon learning she could not read it herself. It presented an opportunity to glorify her patron god like none other and so, she set off on her own holy quest.