[hider=The Soothsayer] [center][h2]Giselart the Soothsayer[/h2] Also known, to his enemies, as Giselart the Mad.[/center] [b]Appearance:[/b] In many things, Giselart takes the traits of the archetypal Lampert to their extreme conclusion. His hair and beard are long, dark and flowing, not to say wild; his frame is robustly built and vigorous, though somewhat short among his compatriots and slightly stooped with incipient age; his gaze burns with a wrathful light that strikes terror into the hearts of those that meet it. Although he dresses humbly, donning only the sombre raiment of a sage, from a distance his form can appear richly bejewelled due to an eccentric choice of adornment: upon his person Giselart wears numerous holy amulets and symbols of faith from the Amalian lands, all of them defaced and broken by his own hands. The most imposing of these trinkets is a large nondescript, weathered husk hanging from his neck, which he claims is the head of a Divine Locust, worn as a symbol of God's malice. [b]Kingdom Allegiance:[/b] Lampertei. [b]Tribe:[/b] Lampert, born and bred. [b]Background:[/b] Of where and when Giselart's life began no one can say much for certain, save that his origins were lowly and obscure, likely among peasants in the conquered countryside far south of Skadania. In his youth he was apprenticed to a [i]volcaduc[/i], one of those wise men who, among the godless Lamperts, fulfil that role of masters of lore and tradition that the clergy take on in more pious lands. From that teacher, he learned the legends and histories of his people, as well as smidgens of some practical sciences, such as how to speak with rhetorical cunning, read the stars and know the herbs that can cure fever or kill the body and the mind. Giselart proved an eager and curious student, and when, several years later, he was ordained a volcaduc himself, he began to travel Lampertei, seeking out other sages for their knowledge. His intent was to collect all the tales of the Lampert tribe into one great chronicle; however, on his journey he had many adventures which marked the path of his life from then onward. He climbed mountains, traversed swamps and braved rivers; several times he fell severely ill, but always recovered. In the south, he joined various raids and campaigns against Udos, fought bravely and desecrated some shrines and temples, in which he took a fiendish joy. It was in those years that people first began to notice his immense hatred against God. Whether it came from the many stories of His evil and iniquity that he assembled, the perils he faced, a deep conviction of his own or something else entirely is unknown, but those who spoke with him of the questions of faith were often impressed with the virulence of his words and the abundance of his arguments, which were great even for a volcaduc. Thus passed several more years of Giselart's life. The next great change came in the later years of King Cunincprand's reign, after a particularly unlucky expedition to the south. Angered by the failure, the wandering loremaster withdrew to a small, isolated town and began to preach to its people. He drew upon the wealth of knowledge he had accumulated, evoking great heroic deeds of ages past, and above all inflamed his listeners with fury against God and his vile minions on Visandza. His thunderous words fell on impressionable ears, and, when he rode out of the town, he was not alone, but followed by a cohort of coarse yet zealous men, enthralled by his speeches. He led his acolytes towards the lands of Udos, and on the way others joined them. Many were simple folk swept up by Giselart's blasphemous predication, but there were also among them experienced warriors from the remains of forces broken in past invasion. In the end, it was a sizeable, though shabby warband that crossed the border, and, while it was more owing more to blind luck than their skill, not only was it not entirely decimated, but even managed to bring back some plunder. Upon their return, the surviving improvised raiders were overjoyed, and acclaimed their leader as gifted with a power that could breach the defences of God and men alike. Giselart, for his own part, grew convinced that it was his duty to bring war against God to all Visandza, and that for this end he had to go speak to the king himself. The band thus headed north, towards the capital, gathering more proselytes yet on its way. By that time, the supposed Locust head was already in Giselart's possession, and around that relic was built, almost casually, the warrior sect's identity. The assembly of rabble became the [i]Farigai[/i], the ones who brought the end and the extinction of God and his kin, and the divine instrument of destruction was perverted into the symbol of a scourge of His faithful. Members of the band carved stylised wooden effigies of the head and wore them on their persons or hung them to their saddles to signify their allegiance. At length, the now greatly swollen force reached Skadania, and Giselart appeared before the king, his dire omens filling the halls of the capital. Although the fulminating loremaster and his followers were rather coldly received by the altogether moderate Cunincprand, who deemed them too undisciplined and rambuctious for his liking, they found greater favour with one of his younger sons, Dalgiserius. The prince's rougher character was more congenial to the band's rowdy, violent nature, and he took it among the forces under his command, with Giselart becoming his lieutenant and advisor. When, struck with suspicion at the deaths in his family, Dalgiserius began to investigate the source of the evil afflicting his bloodline, the Farigai were all too glad to become his hands and eyes, terrorizing the populace in their efforts to leave no stone unturned. The sacking of the Mountain Temple was an occasion of great celebration among the warband, which had long set their eyes on that glaring target in the very midst of Lampert lands, but had theretofore been held back from assailing it by royal protection. Giselart himself, by that time a Gastald of the new king, led his men through the rampage with club in hand. Those who were with him then say that his hoard of plundered symbols of devotion grew twice as heavy on that day alone. Yet he was also never far from Dalgiserius' ear. When no proof of the Vestals' involvement in the deaths was found, he proclaimed that this was all the more reason to be certain that God's own invisible hand was in this, and He had to be fought with all their forces. Since then, that indomitable old man, volcaduc and warrior, prophet and Gastald, has not been idle. He was ever close with his unholy oaths as the king descended into his madness, and those who sought to limit his influence were suddenly struck with mysterious ailments. This gave rise to rumours that the man had some sinister power with which he could bewitch and curse whom he pleased. Yet it is much too late to openly act against him. The only rival Giselart fears at all is the king's own get, Dalgiserata. For all he hates her mother for being a foreign witch and herself for weakening the king's resolve, he does not dare work against her, either with curse or poison or through the daggers and strangling-cords of his devotees. Nevertheless, the Soothsayer thinks little of even the princess, for he is certain his power is immeasurably greater than hers. At his command, the Farigai ride out across the land, sowing fear in their quest to root out "disloyalty to the king" - that is, sentiments towards God other than venomous hate. To this day, their vexations rage on unhindered in the shadow of their protector, who, in his prophetic guise, makes no secret of abetting Dalgiserius' obsession and working to plunge Lampertei and all the world into apocalyptic carnage. [/hider] [hider=The Soothsayer's Right Hand] [center][h2]Ratechi the Iron-Hand[/h2][/center] In both form and bearing, Ratechi lives up to his nickname, of "his shadow", be it said derisively or enviously. Tall, burly and clad in long, dark cloaks over his suit of lamellar mail, when he follows closely in Giselart's steps he does indeed appear as an enormous formless shadow cast by the older man from a light at his feet. And it is little wonder that he should often find himself in such a position, for he is the sage's bodyguard, executioner and most trusted agent. Once a farmer and village craftsman, Ratechi joined the Farigai when they were on their way to their first, historical raid and stuck with it since, working his way into the leader's favour through a combination of serpentine cunning, grim obedience and a stomach strong enough to know no qualms before the direst of deeds. His years of service have brought him more than one kind of experience; not only has he learned to wield a variety of weapons as well as a hardened warrior, but, impressed by his aptitude and strong memory, Giselart has taken him as his student, teaching him portions of his traditional wisdom. Though mimicking his master's appearance to an extent, sporting an unbound beard and dark head of hair, Ratechi keeps his noticeably shorter, so that they might not inconvenience him in combat. Rather, the most unusual part of his appearance is one kept concealed in the folds of his cloak most of the time. During a skirmish, his left forearm was shattered by a mace blow. While the bone was hopelessly broken, leaving little choice but to sever that part of the limb outright, Giselart was able to salvage some of the situation. By wielding the secret healing arts of the volcaducs alongside his wild inspirations, and, as rumour will have it, his sorcery, the sage welded a long knife-blade to the stump, in such a way that Ratechi may freely use it to strike. The Farigai thus remains bound to his master out of gratitude for his salvation from cripplehood as well as reverence, respect and reliance on his protection; there are, however, some who say that the old Gastald ensures his favourite's loyalty with a magical decoct that dulls the pain from that strangely sealed wound, which would otherwise become unbearable. [/hider] [hider=The Captain of the Farigai] [center][h2]Dauraulf Locust-Head[/h2][/center] Unlike most of his compeers, distinguished by, if anything, their low and humble birth, Dauraulf can vaunt rather more illustrious origins, being the firstborn of one of old King Cunincpert's Gastalds and a sergeant in Dalgiserius' erstwhile warband, though never very close to the prince. While he could very well have hoped to one day equal his father in rank, being a skilful commander and deft with a hellbeard, he chose instead to join the Farigai under Giselart's lead, forgoing any chance of being elevated outside their ranks. His reasoning, seasoned by Dalgiserius ascending to the throne, was such: given the new king's temper, which only seemed to worsen over time, those that stood around them on their own were much more likely to have their heads roll if it came to that. Meanwhile, if anything happened to the Farigai, Giselart would take the brunt of it, and himself? Well, he'd always find a way out. Being one of the few Locust-bearers to have any proper experience in leadership, Dauraulf was often singled out to lead raiding parties and train his more rustic fellows in the use of arms, quickly rising through what ranks the Farigai have. At length, he found himself on almost equal standing with Ratechi himself in Giselart's esteem, and was given leave to dispose and direct the practical aspects of the group's organisation, tactics and logistics. Though aware that this once again made him a visible figure, Dauraulf still found his position safe enough for comfort, and enjoyed the power it gave him. He thus did his best to live up to it. Having always been of an imaginative and humourous bend, he took the Locust imagery further than anyone, covering his cuirass with leater stripes to make it seem like the shell of an insect and adorning his helm with a contraption of wood and hide that gave his head a carapace, fangs and horns like those of his Gastald's symbolic talisman. True to the fearsome image he projects, he is famed for his ferocity and irreverence towards anything divine, and a penchant for cruel mockery against his enemies. [/hider]