Name: Dharrec Albannes
Sex: Male
Appearance:


Age: 32
Fighting Style(s): Dharrec is trained to wield polearms such as halberds and lucernes, though he is also quite handy with a mace or axe (though they are far simpler weapons to learn).

Equipment: (Weapons and other noteworthy gear)

• A shortened bardiche with a longer blade, made to be more effective in close quarters combat.
• A mace kept as a sidearm following his first encounter with a Dread Knight.
• Two bags tied to his belt, one containing food and the other holding only a whetstone with plenty of room for recovered items.
• A coin pouch carrying a modest sum.

Biography: Dharrec was, for much of his life, a proud soldier in service to Lord Esmund of Mynelis. But that all changed when refugees appeared on their doorstep, followed by the undead clawing at Mynelis' walls. Few lives were lost in defense of the city, but something within Lord Esmund seemed to come unhinged. Over the next month Dharrec would become increasingly disheartened by the state of his home, as it plunged further into disarray as the lord secluded himself in his chambers. Some believed he was turning senile, and those who openly voiced such opinions would eventually be silenced.

Dharrec would not stand for it, though there was naught he could do himself but leave. So he did, heading west towards the city of Cartelom. Before the plague of undeath tore the world asunder he had fought alongside soldiers from there. Under the command of Lord Almaranth, Cartelom aided Mynelis in repelling an attack from barbarians hailing from out of the east. He admired their discipline in battle, and their army proved necessary to ensure a swift victory at the Battle of Tuskvar Creek. Dharrec thought to himself that perhaps Cartelom could still possess the might to stand in defiance as the world shattered around them. Luckily for him, he was right. Cartelom survived, but Lord Almaranth, regrettably, did not. He had died of sickness before the undead attacked, and now one of his former knight bannerets, Captain Hannigan, took power.

Though he was not a lord, Hannigan had the experience to see to the survival of his people. Under his command they repelled the first two undead sieges without suffering a single casualty, and accepted dozens of surviving refugees. Dharrec was welcomed into Cartelom with a warm reception, as he was physically fit and a trained warrior. They made it no secret that any who could wield a weapon were welcome in Cartelom, as they would need all the capable soldiers they could get. Dharrec settled in quickly, joining the militia and performing some more dangerous excursions beyond the city walls by Captain Hannigan's orders. After only a week, the world seemed a tad brighter. Maybe there was hope for humanity yet.
Other: Dharrec's parents passed away long ago, and deep down he dreads the possibility of encountering them as roaming cadavers.

Name: Sir Edric the exile Rane
Sex: Male
Appearance:


Age: 38

Fighting Style: Edric has been trained to use a one-handed sword with or without a shield and his fighting style is defensive and protective.

Equipment:

* A one-handed sword in good shape. It's hilt has a silvery look and ends up to a rhombus-shaped, reddish pink ruby, the symbol of his house, encased inside the hilt.
* A relatively new medium-sized iron heater shield. It's decorated with the same rhombus-shaped, reddish pink ruby in a blue background, the colors of his house
* Medium armor. Pretty standard for a knight of his caliber. Can slow down the strongest man but provides much needed protection against anyone who doesn't know how to exploit it's weak spots, such as the undead.
* A small knife. Pretty standard for heavyweights, it can be useful in a myriad of situations.
* Memorabilia, small gifts and other trinkets Edric has gathered throughout his journeys.
* Money

Biography: Edric Rane is the youngest member of the house of Rane, a minor, relatively old noble house that ruled over a small fertile region in the east. Noted for it's heroism, it's members enjoyed the appraise of other nobles, as well as peace and prosperity. Edric was the first Rane to be knighted by a fellow knight, and the first one to be exiled, at the age of 26. His banishment was caused by his decision to adopt a foreign religion that was somewhat unaccepted at that time. The fact that he did so as a noble and knight caused the King's anger, who was constantly afraid of impending instability and wanted to purge anyone who deviated from his standards. Edric's punishment for returning to the country would most likely be imprisonment, which for Edric was worse than death.

For the next 12 years, Edric was discovering the lands west, sometimes settling for months at a time. Being a trained and tested knight made him a respected mercenary and headhunter and, as such, Edric has no qualms about pressing on. Eventually, he got over his past and became content with being a traveling mercenary. This was solidified by his decision to join a prestigious mercenary company, which gave him the opportunity to rise in the ranks of a different hierarchy, working with people he could trust. The constant need for mercenaries at that time kept Edric exceptionally strong and capable, despite his age.

Edric vowed to return to his homeland as soon as he heard about the undead invasion. It was clear that his home was either destroyed or about to be and Edric knew there was no way to reach them in time. Banishing himself for the second time, Edric left the company illegally to find what happened to his family. Knowing his father, brother and sister, they should have fled before the calamity could hit them and were either hiding in a nearby city or in the mountains to the north. Or they could have moved further towards the north or the west, in an attempt to escape.

His travels led him to the country of Rhogein and from there to the city of Cartelom, which was nothing like home. What seemed like the first stop of a much greater journey ended up quite differently, as Cartelom wouldn't let him leave so quickly. What he would discover after twelve years of absence was a very disheartening situation even for a man who had been through a lot.

Name: Eveline De Ficquelmont
Sex: Female
Appearance:


Age: 21
Fighting Style(s):
Knows how to use most weapons, better than an average untrained person, but below the level of a trained soldier.
Currently uses two short swords and a shield.

Equipment:

• Knight's short sword, high quality steel. Has knight's name engraved on hilt. "To my friend, Maarten Beldam"
• Back-up short sword, of lesser quality metals.
• Steel reinforced wooden shield.
• Leather steel reinforced scabbard and a regular leather scabbard.
• Pouch filled with four gold coins, a monetary certificate worth eight gold coin and a haircomb.
• Ring with embedded family crest.
• Rag with family crest.
• Pouch of perfumes.

Biography:
Eveline was born in a newly appointed noble family. Her father was an uncompromisingly strict and orthodox man with only the ambition to expand his influence and wealth. She was raised for the purpose of becoming a lady fit to be married off. She hated that prospect. She hated noble life.

Her interests were much more in line with her brothers', but were too unfitting of a lady. She wanted to learn combat, politics and all others sorts of things. Whenever father wasn't around, her brothers would hang out with her and teach her some basic combat, but the servants would often intervene. Luckily for her the servants would never tell her father fearing his punishments.

Her brothers married young to spread their father's reach. She was arranged to marry an old childless nobleman, but weeks before the marriage he died hunting. After a couple years her father made another arrangement, but while on their travels to meet the noble in question, a foul smell filled the air and the skies turned dark. Her father demanded they press on, but unable to reach their destination in time they were caught out in the open. With the help of a knight serving her father Eveline made it to the nearby walled city of Cartelom. Her family and the servants didn't. While the price is high, she is now free to pave her own road.

Other:
Her brothers were traveling from separate locations. Wishes to find out if they are alive.
Knight under her father gave her a High quality steel sword, given to him as a gift by her Father.

Name: Maarten Mateüsz Beldam
Sex: Male
Appearance:
196 centimeters tall.

Age: 38
Fighting Style(s): Expert veteran fighter with a single axe, two axes or an axe and a shield. Can use all weapons but less proficiently. Relatively fast despite his size but the thick armor he wears slows him down. Relies mostly on his skill and strength to fight from a static position. Is more-so a defender than an attacker.
Equipment:

Biography: Born a farmer but recruited in his early teens by Lord De Ficquelmont because of his size and strength. Became champion for House De Ficquelmont in his early twenties. Survived the dead/undead and helped Eveline De Ficquelmont get to Cartelom.
Other: Always has the same expression and is straight to the point. Doesn't do idle talk.

Name: Jethec Ardozhian

Sex: Male

Appearance:
Age: 34

Fighting Style(s): Jethec ain't exactly acquainted with the jousts and melees of song. In fact he doesn't really like to humor "foes" at all, but prey, who did not know that he was there til the boys had already struck. He feels naked standing in open formation with the other soldiers. But he has received barely-adequate sword and crossbow training via the city watch's captains, improving upon what he had already known of these weapons. He can win, but he'll have fought dirty to do so; he makes impromptu weapons of the terrain and also hides weapons on his person. Dirt, foliage, coins, nearly anything can give him an edge in the right scenario.

Equipment: His crossbow, quarrels, sword (a falchion), hauberk, and kettlehat are all standard-issue. He also carries a small warhammer, useful in a pinch as a tool as well as a weapon. But Jethec wears his own bracers, his own boots (well broken in, and softer in the soles), as well as his own lockpicks and poignard. The knife is a good deal more sophisticated than the rest of his kit, featuring both engravings and a precious metal hilt.

Biography: Wulcis was a relatively insignificant member of House Ostogard; a third or fourth son, maybe of a cadet branch. He could not expect a big inheritance; an estate; an esteemed position like general or castellan or guildmaster among his father's cronies. Wulcis had only a suit of armor, a big fucking sword, and a nonchalance about the honor and esteem of his house. Being so equipped, he seemingly had no choice but to humiliate his father and tarnish the family legacy, and he just so happened to take to banditry as his method of choice. His petty nobility protected him from the wrath of the emperor and his corrupt court, just as his steel protected him from blades and arrows, so Wulcis took to terrorizing the roads of his own brother's shire. He also gathered more misfits along the way, adding them to his handful of house knights. This is how Jethec, technically, came under the employ of a nobleman, a fact he keeps ready for anyone fool enough to think that he will tell the whole truth. (Everyone had to forget someone, backstab someone, leave someone behind to make it past the walls.)

The Undeath struck on one such a day, of sitting in the mud along a little road a few days out from Tarne, waiting for caravans and the odd pilgrim. The whole band made it to the city in time, having been warned by the sight of a courier, still bleeding, racing past their ambush, even ignoring their bows nocked and knives drawn. Something far deadlier than they must have been giving chase, they realized in good time, that their predation seemed of so little consequence to this man. Well, Wulcis of House Ostogard was already quite infamous in Tarne, and he and the fellows accompanying him were all cut down when the guards cornered them in some tavern or other, that big sword catching on the chandelier. But Jethec, and the other clever ones, they absconded down their alleys of choice, trickling back into the crowds of refugees. They laid low, picked up honest work and some alibis. Most of these men are still kicking around Tarne today, pretending they don't have a past.

It's well and good to be a nice guy while the going is easy. But when the king orders the gates shut, when more food has been eaten and shat out by the day, when the city runs dry of even basic amenities, a man's neighbors sour faster than milk in the sun. They will always—always—choose their families over their friends; former drinking buddies and even war-comrades will eat each other, given enough days of staring at a wall waiting for death. Thus, every smart tenement employs a featherfinger from among its residents: a man (or two) to keep the whole block that slightest bit better-fed than it would be without. Jethec is one such mercenary. When the city is doing well for itself he patrols its walls and alleys as a town watch; he keeps order in the streets, and cleans them of the riots, the other thieves. But in lean times he joins their ranks, breaking into the same storehouses and supply depots he is paid to keep free of such vermin. Quite convenient, in its way. Jethec can relive the old days of taking what he wants, when it suits him; collect an honest ration (and hurt the competition) when it don't. Some things never change. Long as he don't get caught. Maybe a jackal can eat lettuce when enough of his ribs are poking through but you can't teach him to like it.

Tarne, meanwhile, rides the winds of change. The chant on the streets tells of conspiracies from the castle. Expeditions leaving the cities, looking to end whatever necromancer or great demon had summoned this invasion, erasing the plague for good. Some men stand in line to volunteer; others, like Jethec, are "volunteered" on their own behalf. Seems bad luck don't change much neither.

Name: Theon Hammond

Sex: Male



Age: 22

Fighting Style(s): Theon was primarily trained to use a longsword and shield. However, he’s also able to use daggers, zweihanders, and bastard swords.

Equipment:
-breastplate with shoulderguards as well as the clothing beneath it.
-trousers
-black boots
-longsword
-reinforced shield
-mace for closer quarters
-A knapsack fulled of preserved food
-A whetstone
-A canteen of water

Biography: Theon, as a young boy, was told he would be a farmer. Originally, he had no problem with this. His father was a farmer, his father before him, and so on. He spent the first 15 years of his life learning how to cultivate crops, deal with those pesky crows, and how to best prevent vermin from eating your hard earned vegetables. However, one night of his 16th year, a band of deserters came to the town. They were hardened by war, hungry, and worst of all, desperate. They posed as friendly when they first showed up. They pretended to have been fresh from a victory. When asked why they were alone, they explained that during the march home, they were separated from the rest of their forces.

Theon’s father invited a few to stay at his home. They went back to the farm and had dinner. When they were done, Theon’s father sent him to bed.Theon woke up to the world burning around him. The house had been set on fire. He ran outside as fast as he could, only to find his mother and father gutted like pigs, marinating in their own innards. He threw up at the sight of it, as his village was being burned and slaughtered around him. He decided he would never be helpless from this moment on. Theon enlisted into the first army he could find. He had roamed for about a year by then. He didn’t know who he fought for; it didn’t matter. The only thing he did know was their sigil; a kraken. He served with them for around 5 years.

On his 22nd nameday, the dead came. The one he served was a minor lord, so his men were rather badly trained. It was only because of Theon’s experience he survived. The Liches came, cutting through their ranks like butter. Theon and the few friends he had made during his time turned tail and ran. They heard of safety, a walled city. Tarne was relatively nearby, so they traveled as fast as they could. They had to repel undead attacks each night. The first night, it was Warren who fell. He was their alarm, in a way. His screaming alerted the rest of them. The second night, both Catherine and John were killed. They tried to run from Theon and the rest. The third and fourth, no one fell. The fifth, it was two again. Theon stopped bothering to note their names. Finally, on the seventh night, the last deserter fell. It was only Theon who reached Tarne's gates.