Varian Sigmund
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Nationality: Highmen (Miraaheim)

Appearance: Many of the people of Miraheim have an established reputation for their appearance. Varian’s appearance doesn’t trail too far from the conception of a typical Highman. Like many of the people of the north, he has an imposing stature, standing at a height of 6 ft 4 in, or about 1.93 m. He has fairly pale skin, mostly due to the underexposure of being in the sun, which is rarely seen around Miraheim. His body is well-proportioned. He is not overly muscled, but rather well-toned, neither being too skinny nor too large. He does however, have fairly long legs due to high length, allowing him to make long strides, especially useful in combat, making him not only quite large, but also exceptionally agile for his height.

Varian is usually found with a small beard, a bit different than that of normal people of Miraaheim, who sport rather large beards. Varian dislikes the look, and prefers a smaller, kept one. His skin is generally rough, with a set of three distinct scars going in a line across his cheek, many of which believe he has received from an encounter with a wolf, but Varian would never be the one to tell if that is really the case. His eyes are brown and his gaze appears as if he is always in a foul mood. However, that is just his normal gaze. Varian has relatively long, shoulder-length light-brown hair, which has been slightly combed back, but also chopped a bit to the side, giving him, as he would say, a perfect look for a mercenary.

Varian’s clothing isn’t exactly traditional, but combines a bit of his cultural background into it. He is found wearing a sleeveless grey leather vest. Around his vest is a baldric which extends across his chest and over his right shoulder, which is used to holster his two hand axes on his back, which are prominently displayed in an ‘X’ shape on his back. On his right shoulder attached to the baldric is a mass of grayish-white fur believed to originally be from a wolf, perhaps the same one that gave him the scars on his cheek, but again, Varian would never say. Varian also has a belt fitted tightly across his waist, and below that a pair of black pants of common fabric of the time. He wears boots, which are grey in color and reach just above his ankles.

Personality: Despite his appearance, Varian tends to somewhat break the norm of how most people view the average Highman, at least, to an extent. Where most Highmen are loud and rash, many will find that Varian is composed and a bit quiet. At least, compared to the average Highman. When in a group of familiar people, or people he feels more comfortable around, he would usually become more talkative. He does not wish to do so in front of people he is unfamiliar with, especially clients. However, when he does talk, many might notice his rather dark sense of humor. He often finds humorous that which others might believe to be sinister. He would more likely be the one to laugh at other’s pain and misery, especially if the circumstance of it is ironic, far-fetched, or unusual. With that is added a second dimension of Varian being slightly critical of others, and rather unsympathetic of their troubles, unless they are clients, in which case he is very sympathetic, especially if the compensation is good. This is to say that Varian may be a bit cold, but he is also practical and smart about it. He knows when he should and shouldn’t say certain things, especially if the consequences be the removal of his head. His true feelings, beliefs, and personality would never reveal themselves to anyone but close friends, and because of the very nature of his work, he has few of those.

Although he has mostly attempts o break away from the traditions of his forefathers, Varian finds himself instilled with a few values from his homeland. He is not religious, but still finds comfort in the words and sayings of the ancient tongue in Miraheim, almost treating it as good luck charms. Although he has long strayed from the Highmen tradition of honor and family, some of those views still continue to work its way through his mercenary work, mostly having to do with family. Although he has long since lost any conventional family, he almost treats his mercenary group like an extended family. As their leader, it can almost be said that he could be seen as a head of a family, and as such, it is his job to keep the rest of his family safe, both with conventional and alternative methods.

History: Varian was born in the southern part of Miraheim, in a village called Renvall. He came from a long line of Highmen who defended the Maerrun in the province there. His father is the latest to have taken up the guard of the Maerr, his mother dying in childbirth. It was expected of Varian to one day grow up to become the next guard of the Maerr, and continue the tradition the family held. However, Varian realized even as a child that the life of servitude was not for him. In his opinion, why should he have to pledge himself to someone without getting something in return? The concepts of honor and tradition alluded Varian, even as a small boy. His father would reprimand him in the hopes that he would eventually accept that this was his ordained purpose, but Varian never could say that he did.

However, as he became an adolescent, he was taught in the ways of combat. This part of Miraheim tradition was one he cherished. It was taught in Miraheim that a man who could not fight was not a man at all. Varian learned early on that there was wisdom to these words. But Miraheim weren’t particular in terms of what weapons can be used. Varian wasn’t particularly fond of the large, single axe that had become common in Miraheim’s culture. He preferred to be more agile and moveable in combat. In the end, he chose as his preferred weapon choice a set of hand axes. This allowed him to keep within the tradition of the axe, while still maintaining his agility. Varian learned early on in his life that he had a talent for combat, and very much enjoyed it.

As he grew and became a young man, an event happened in his life that altered his fate. Being from Southern Miraheim, the villages to the south were prone to attacks from orcs and other foul creatures of the mountains. One night, orcs came down from the mountain and attacked the village. Varian’s father was among the men who defended the village, but by day’s end, he was murdered. In a single night, Varian’s life was changed completely. His father had left him everything. His property, his land, his money. Varian found himself for the next few weeks struggling to decide what he was to do. Although he had never wanted to before, he expected he would have to grow up to become a guard of the Maerr. That was his destiny. But that was the destiny his father had laid out for him. Now that he was gone, there was nothing truly keeping him there. So on a whim, one day, Varian packed a few of his belongings, and left Renvall, never to return.

For a while, Varian wandered. It would be an understatement to say that he was ill-prepared for the travels of life in the wild of Miraheim. From the cold, harsh winter to the beasts that roam the country, Varian found himself realizing something crucial: He was taught how to fight, but not how to survive. His was supposed to be the life of servitude in a grand hall of a Maerr, not roaming the wilds. The day came when a large grey wolf had approached him, seeing Varian as his next meal. Although Varian didn’t know it that day, the wolf would be his test to see if he could truly learn to survive. A battle occurred, Varian’s steel matching against the wolf’s fangs and claws. Varian triumphed in a grueling contest, but not before the beast left a permanent mark on his face. He skinned the wolf for his pelt, and wore it with him ever since.

In the following town he visited after the event, he had heard about a merchant who needed passage between towns, and that he would pay anyone willing to accompany him as a guard. Varian heard, and decided to apply right away. It was his first true job as a mercenary. The first of many. His cargo had apparently been threatened by a bandit the day before, and the merchant expected an attack while on the road, which evidently did happen. The bandits came in a trio, but as Varian soon found out, were both quite slow and extremely ill-trained. Varian took care of them fairly easily, and lead the merchant to his destination. It seemed that Varian had finally found his calling.

Varian traveled all across Miraheim for mercenary work. Because of the adaptation to the weather, Varian removed a part of the wolf pelt off of his back, but kept a piece of it embedded on his shoulder, as a constant reminder to him of the day he considers he became a man, a tale he will probably never tell to anyone.

Weapon Preference: A set of hand axes. Varian prefers to move agile through combat, and instead of choosing a single larger axe as his standard weapon, chose two smaller ones which he uses to hash, slash, and bash opponents. Varian constantly maintains the sharpness and quality of the axes, although a chip could be seen on one of them.

Sir Roland of House Grey
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Country of Origin: Ethora (House Reigncliff)

Appearance: Roland is what many would refer to as a handsome man. Standing at five feet and eleven inches, he is lean and well built. His skin, which is a slightly tanned white, is near flawless, having no blemishes, birth marks, or scars. He has short, fair, combed black hair, and bright green eyes. He is usually found wearing heavy armor traditional to Reigncliff, with the traditional colors of red, yellow and brown on them. The sigil of Reigncliff is painted on his shoulder blades of his armor, with the seal of the House of Grey embedded on the front chest-plate.

When he is not wearing his armor, he is found could be found wearing a brown or yellow silk shirt with matching silk pants of high quality. He rarely likes to have himself be touched physically by others, especially those not of noble birth, so he usually wears a pair of brown gloves. Across his waist is a belt that helps holster his sword.

Personality: Roland is known for his apathy and heartlessness. He cares very little for the opinions of those below him, being very close-minded in that regard. He looks down at other races, sexes, and social classes as less than him, and has no problem showing his disgust for them. His bigotry is matched nearly by his vanity. Thought he is fairly skilled, Roland believes himself sometimes to be larger than life, and his ego is often on full display. He is also cruel when it comes to taking into account the feelings of others that he doesn't know. Though he will show respect for his friends and equals, his apathy for strangers and "lesser men" is well known. He cares for no one but the success of House Reigncliff, the safety and security of his kin and friends, and the maintenance of established law and order.

Roland always believed people should understand their place. For Roland, standing is everything. A farmer should grow up to be a farmer, a knight to be a knight, and a king to be a king. Interaction between the social groups that do not belong together should, as he would say, be discouraged. He sees them almost as if they are from different worlds, and believes that is how it should remain. If he sees anything of the sort out of line, Roland has no problem correcting it.

History: Roland was born into the noble House Grey by his mother Elinor and his father Sir Lawrence Grey. At an early age, he was taught all the necessities to becoming a dignified upper-classmen and a virtuous servant of House Reigncliff, one of the major houses in Ethora. Things came easy to Roland. He was both sharp in his studies and articulate in his speech. He took advantage of all of his opportunities into becoming what he believed to be a skilled knight. However, Roland was a pampered man, and only realized it as time went on and squires and others lost to him on purpose by his father's orders. Roland discovered this one day when he bested one of his servants easily, by then seeing that same servant participant in a tournament not long after and win it all, easily.

This caused a change in Roland. He became much more focused on his training and his upcoming knighthood. He demanded many take him seriously and fight him at their best. He began to lose, and through his losses, he trained and trained. Finally, he was actually making improvements, enough to garner some skill. He had participated in countless bouts and jousts. In the beginning, he would lose, but as time went on, Roland found himself winning many.

His finest work came at the participation of the Grand Tournament in Ethora, where he emerged as its winner. He has participated in the tournament a few times prior, but never managed to grab the victory. Though it was difficult, Roland emerged a victor. Little did the knight know, however, the the tournament was purposefully fixed by his father, bringing in only intermediate fighters into the game that year around. To this day, Roland had never known that fact. However, believing his skill to be unmatched, Roland's ego spiraled out of control. Though he is now a skilled enough fighter, he believes himself one of the greatest in the world.

It was largely due to this victory (and his family name) that he was invited to join the Lionguard, the royal guard of the King of Ethora. Roland gladly accepted, becoming one of the youngest members in the history of the Lionsguard. The other older Lionsguard members disliked him, a fact Roland is blissfully unaware of. Their dislike stems from their dislike of the young knight's ego, and his general attitude toward others.

Roland was not with the king when the assassination took place, a fact Roland seems to bring up a lot as a means to defend his reputation and his skill. The attack took place while he was escorting another noble, luckily, as he would put it. Although Roland does not know what happens now that the Monks call for a conference, he knows he must attend as a representative of House Reigncliff, and Ethora. Though he does it for honor and his King, Roland also sees this meeting as a potential way to better his own legend, and his name.

Weapon Preference: Roland is a traditional wielder of a sword and shield. His shield proudly displays the sigil of House Grey in the center, and whose color is a golden-yellow. His sword is crafted in mountains of Bludrock by the finest blacksmiths.

Name: Drostan Welm (Under an assumed name, "Osmund Griff")

Age: 31

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Country of Origin: Ethora (Claims Falke)

Appearance:

Personality: A sort of burnt-out idealist, his former devotion to egalitarianism has been tempered by time into aimless hate of hierarchy,
class, and authority. However, this hate is kept in check by a sense of cynicism and resignation (as well as a touch of alcholism), that way things are is the way they will probably always be. This manifests in a feeling of weariness that almost radiates off of him.

But, there are moments when his former self peaks through. Get him talking about his beliefs, and you may not get him to stop. He can manage some dry wit, when he bothers to try. He has a sort of default respect for most people, regardless of race, sex, or class, but it doesn't seem to extend to the wealthy or the noble.

Once very confident in himself and his abilities, staggering defeat has humbled him greatly. He's cautious, doubly so when he's responsible for other people. He has deep-seated self-doubt, though he usually tries to swallow it. No one wants to hire an insecure mercenary.

History: The second son of Lord Robert Welm, Drostan led an incredibly privileged childhood. Free from the burden of inheriting his father's title, since his older brother would be heir, he was free to more or less do as a pleased. He learned a few things about himself early-on. He liked to fight (with both blades and words), he liked to read, and he really liked to travel. Beginning at age twelve Drostan accompanied his uncle on economic and diplomatic journeys to the surrounding nations. Falke was his favorite, and there he got his hands on the writings of Elven and early Falkian thinkers. This, combined with the things he saw in his travels, left him with the vague sense that something was wrong. He couldn't quite put his finger on why, or how he would go about fixing it, but the way things were didn't sit quite right. When he was eighteen, his uncle died, and his travels were suspended for the time being. He stayed once more in his family's home, developing his martial skills with his brothers and reading everything he could get his hands on.

When he was twenty-one he began writing things of his own. A sort of synthesis of all he'd read, combined with his own observations, Drostan's brand of social and economic egalitarianism was entirely too radical for much of the nation, though it did find some purchase among the very lowest rungs of society. Realizing his work was sort of seditious, he sent it around anonymously. He let only one person know that he was the one writing it, his childhood friend, Sir Garren Curtis, a knight sworn to his house.

He tried to live a more typical Ethoran noble life, participating in a number of tournaments over the next few years. Though he often did quite well, he was never able to win one. He courted Alys Curtis, a cousin of Garren's, and was engaged to be married. At twenty-six, however, just a few weeks prior to his wedding date, Drostan had a crisis of conscience. Surrounded by wealth and privilege, he couldn't escape a lingering sense of guilt, that people suffered while he lived so comfortably.

So, Drostan and Garren slipped out one night with a handful of soldiers who bought into his ideas. They carried with them copies of Drostan's earlier writing, and rode to rally townsfolk and farmers to his cause, with limited success. After a week, he had gathered about two dozen people. Against Garren's advice, the small group of radicals decided to mount a poorly planned coup. After some successful raids on merchant caravans and the such, Drostan decided that he was going to try and kill the king. This failed spectacularly. Their attempt to ambush a carriage that was supposed to be carrying the king went awry as the carriage's guards put up a much better fight than expected. Drostan's forces were more or less dismantled. Garren was captured, and Drostan was forced to flee. The king wasn't even in the carriage.

In hiding, all but a handful of his followers deserted him. Eventually, he was found. Sir Garren Curtis had been tortured into revealing the location of Drostan's hideout, and then was promptly executed. A manhunt, led by Drostan's own father, came upon them in the night. Drostan's few remaining allies were slain and he was cornered. Fully expecting to die, Drostan put up the best fight he could, and in the process killed his father. But Drostan wasn't killed, he was taken away in chains.

His older brother made a show of stripping Drostan of his lands, titles, and nobility, erasing his name from House Welm's lineage. He was guilty of treason, and to be hanged like a commoner. However, hours before his execution, his younger sister, Amelia, visited him in his cell. She hated him for killing their father, but she had been in love with Sir Garren, and couldn't forgive the kingdom for torturing him. She bribed a guard to free him, and secured him passage to Falke, but left him with a warning. If he ever came back to Ethora, she'd kill him herself. Drostan believed her.

In Falke, he created a new identity. He became Osmund "Oz" Griff, a Falkian mercenary. He lived in Falke for a couple years, studying the spear and trying unsuccessfully to learn archery. Work was scarce, however, and so at twenty-nine he left for Miraheim in search of opportunity. There, he worked independently for some time before falling in with Varian's group.

Weapon Preference: Drostan wields an unremarkable, circular wooden shield in his offhand, and a Falkian short-spear in the dominant hand. He keeps a more traditionally Ethoran one-handed sword on his hip, but he hasn't used it in quite some time.

Side: Mercenaries

Name: Karl Cilrok “Kace” Ulvarsson
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Race: Half-Dwarf
Country of Origin: Since his mother was the only child to a minor noble of Mindirion and his father a Human from Miraheim, Kace spent half his life in Mindirion, learning etiquette, how to conduct himself as a highborn and receiving a general nobles education, before moving to Miraheim to learn to fight, to sail and how to be a man. He lived in Mindirion from the time he was born, until he was 13, and then lived in Miraheim for the remaining six years. He grew fond of both places and would call both of them home.

Appearance:


Due to his mixed race, Kace is about 5 feet, 5 inches tall. He typically wears silks and leathers in the colors of Mindirion and knee high supple leather riding boots when in the company of nobles or when he needs to make an impression, but when travelling or lounging, he prefers a generic and comfortable tunic, trousers, jacket and simple leather shoes. In combat, he wears gambeson, chainmail, brigandine, visored helm, greaves and bracers, all black and decorated with gold inlay. Sometimes he opts for a shield (in the same color scheme) and other times he prefers to wield just his sword or axe, or both in either hand.

Personality: Kace is a generally kind person. He’s good at making friends, and really enjoys joking around and spending time at a pub or tavern with good friends. However, he also knows when a situation requires more tact. He’s extremely mature for his age and finds himself skilled both in political strategy and military strategy.

He’s grown up around both smallfolk and nobles alike, leading to a very humble man, without classist prejudices, going against the norms of Dwarven society and their caste system. Kace knows the value of a good ally, making himself unlikely to go out of his way to make an enemy, but he also is a man of principle and a strong sense of right and wrong, and his willing to fight to defend his beliefs.

History: Kace’s parents were neighbors on the border between Miraheim and Mindirion. Their families were feuding over a field that lay over both borders and the dispute turned bloody for a while before Kace’s parents, Gisli and Ulvar, both young at the time, met and fell in love. They married and brought peace to their two families.

Kace was born a year later. He received his mother’s family name, Cilrok, as his middle name and, following the traditions of his father’s people, received Ulvarsson as his last name. Zoden Cilrok was a minor noble house of Mindirion, owning a small estate in the northwest of the country which Kace’s mother was the heir to. His father was a well-off Highman but not from noble stock. Kace was raised in his mother’s house until he was 13, where he received a typical noble education before his family moved to his father’s farmstead, just over the border, where he learned to fight and sail and be a typical Highman.

Kace adapted well to living in both worlds of Dwarven nobles and Human warriors but his lives were distinct. He had his friends on either side of the border but never did the two worlds mix, unless he was with his parents. He found himself excelling at both fighting with a sword and with his words. Politics and warfare both came naturally to Kace and at the ripe age of 18, he found himself embroiled in an interhouse Civil War with the other dwarven houses, with half rebelling against the Rasuh Etar, and the other half remaining loyal. House Cilrok remained loyal and Kace himself, being a noble and having the training of both a Dwarf and a Highman, distinguished himself as a leader and strategist, only losing two battles in the course of the Seven Month War, both of which due to overwhelming odds, and unsuspected intervention. However, not only was his battle prowess tested, but also his political prowess. Kace, now having just turned 19, brokered the peace treaty that saw the end of the war, with both sides agreeing that since he was only half a Dwarf, he would be relatively impartial. He ended the Civil War and helped Orthen Durgon cement his power and restore peace. Hence why only a few months after his 19th birthday, he was sent for by the Monks, who saw the potential in someone who could both negotiate peacefully and aggressively.

Weapon Preference: Primary weapon:

. Secondary weapon:

Carries a shorter utility seax (about eleven inches long, meant for work on a farm or on a ship) at all times. During battles he opts for a longer and broader seax (about thirteen inches long, meant for combat and hewing limb from body.)



Side: Knights of Ekilore.

Name: Sir Elric Orstein, High Dragoon to Lord Dunston Hawke
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Country of Origin: Falke
Appearance: Elric cuts an imposing figure, standing at an even 6 feet tall with a perfectly sculpted body due to the rigorous training he has undergone for most of his life. His skin has a healthy tan to it and shows off his impressive musculature due to much of his service in the Dragoons being spent outdoors bearing heavy equipment for hours on end. He keeps his jet black hair cut short on top of his head and rarely allows it to grow on his face for more than a day or two without shaving if he can help it. His dark gray eyes are set deep within his face and are often shaded by the overhang of the hawk helmet of the High Dragoon, making his expression often difficult to read. This is not helped by the fact that he is naturally rather stony-faced to begin with.
Personality: Elric's training in the Dragoons has instilled within him a fierce loyalty for his comrades in even the direst situations, and now, as High Dragoon, he employs a policy of leaving no man behind. His training with the Dragoons has also taught him valuable leadership skills, but also the humility to submit to the authority of a superior officer (although in his role of High Dragoon, the only superiors he has are Lord Dunston Hawke and King Frederick Highclaw III). That being said, he is not above questioning orders that he thinks are foolish or go against his morals or code of honor. Concerning his code of honor, Elric believes in dealing fairly and honestly with all people, even if they do not give him the same courtesy. He will not attack an unarmed enemy, nor will he attack an enemy who is unable to defend himself as such would be unfair. As for honesty, he will never say anything that is blatantly untrue, but that doesn't mean he will necessarily reveal the whole truth about something. His speech is often guarded, and he will often take time to consider his words before responding to any query, choosing just how much it is wise and polite to reveal. However, he is not above being sarcastic or even downright rude in his speech and dealings with people he finds distasteful, especially if he is under no social or hierarchical constraint to be kind or polite to them. In general, though, Elric is a kind and altruistic person to most people he meets unless they should do something to somehow prove that they do not deserve his kindness.
History: Elric was born the second son of Count Cedric Orstein IV, a minor noble in the lands of House Hawke. With his brother, Cedric V, the heir apparent to the county of Orstein and betrothed at birth to the daughter of a wealthy Baron, Elric was somewhat more free to choose his own future. He could not inherit his father's county (nor did he really want to, for that matter), but nearly any other option was available to him: he could marry into another noble family and become a count or baron himself; he could join the army as either a knight, archer, or dragoon; or he could set out and forge his own life anywhere else. In terms of the first option, that was how the house of Orstein became nobility five generations prior when Gareth Orstein came from Miraheim and married a widowed Countess who bore for him a son and heir to the county, Cedric Orstein I. Regarding the second option, many second and later sons of the house of Orstein had chosen that route and had served the Lord of House Hawke and the Falcon King with valor and honor. Regarding the third option, this had been chosen a few times among the sons of House Orstein, most recently by Elric's uncle Edward who had undertaken a holy pilgrimage to find meaning in life and had eventually come to Palaven where he now serves the Church of the One. Regarding Elric's disposition to these options, the first was wholly unappealing to him - while Elric did hope to one day to get married, he had no aspirations of being nobility. The life of a nobleman, while certainly comfortable, involved far too many duties that simply did not suit Elric's personality. The third option likewise did not appeal to Elric. Elric was an adventurous man who had traveled to a few of the other kingdoms of Aerion in his youth, but Falke would always be his home, and he had no desire to simply wander through the kingdom until he found an appealing prospect. The second option was much more to Elric's liking as it allowed him to serve the kingdom that he loved, gave him a stable life, and offered the possibility of adventure. Therefore, at the age of sixteen, Elric left his home for the nearest garrison and enlisted in the Dragoons.
Qualifying for service in the Dragoons was no easy task, and many prospective soldiers didn't last one year through the training. Those that did last usually took four or more years to complete all the training and fitness requirements to finally qualify for service in the Dragoons. In fact, there had never been a candidate who qualified for the Dragoons at a younger age than 20 years. Therefore, it was quite a surprise when Elric, through much hard work and perseverance, donned the arms and armor of the Dragoons at the age of eighteen, just over two years after beginning the training. Elric's ambition did not stop there, however. He served faithfully in the Dragoons for the next twelve years, quickly ascending the ranks of the military branch until achieving the rank of High Dragoon in only ten years, a feat unheard of in the entire history of the Dragoons. Since the establishment of the Dragoons, no one had ever achieved the rank of High Dragoon in less than fifteen years, and no one had ever achieved the rank before age 40, yet Elric did both, to the amazement (and occasional jealousy) of all his comrades. Now, with the turmoil in Aerion and the prophecy of the Monks of Ekilore, Elric, with the blessings of Lord Hawke and King Highclaw, sets out for Ekilore to hear the prophecy of the Monks and do his part to save not only the kingdom of Falke, but all of Aerion. He has no idea what any of this may entail, but he is determined to do his part because if the people who love their land won't take a stand to save it, who will?
Weapon Preference: Elric is most skilled with his spear, a long, barb-headed pike, but will often start a fight using his bow and arrows until the enemy comes into spear range, at which point he will switch over to his spear.
Side: Knights of Ekilore

Name; Sir Duncan Goldenheir, also known as the Lion of Dawn

Age; 31

Gender; Male

Race; Human

Country of Origin; Ethora

Personality; Sir Duncan is a good, honest man, and one that many will attest is one of the most dutiful in the realm. Raised by the Knights of Andal, he was cultivated to be the epitome of chivalry and virtue, and as a result, one thing Sir Duncan prides himself in above all else, is that he is a man of his word—when he swears an oath to someone, he will do everything within his power to keep it. This has made Sir Duncan incredibly loyal to the lords and ladies to which he has been sworn to in the past, regardless of whether he approves of their views or aims either morally or holistically. For that is what Sir Duncan believes to be the most integral aspect of being a knight—for if you cannot trust the word of a sworn oath-bound knight, who can you trust in this world?

Other than this, Sir Duncan is stoic and respectful. He offers advice when it is solicited, or rather, when others are wise enough to ask, but many years of experience have taught him that it is best to not waste your breath on those who will not listen. Sir Duncan respects those who are humble, yet wise, those who show strength, yet know when to employ mercy, those who are courageous, but do not let this courage be tainted by arrogance. He is a man who honors the scales of justice, one who believes any perversion of the law weakens the fabric of society for all. Above all, however, as a Knight of Andal, his faith drives him onward. Sir Duncan lives, kills, and conquests in the name of Andal, blazing his path forward, striving into the dark unknown, touting Andal's ideals of order, honor, and truth as his guardians.

History; Somewhere on the North-eastern shores of Ethora, steeped into the rocky and sheer coastal cliffs, lies a great, spiraling stone monastery, which is home to the Knights of Andal. The Knights of Andal are an order of Knights, and supporting monks and stewards of course, who ride in the name of Andal, who they believe to be the most important of the Council of Nine. They believe it was Andal's wisdom that created all the good in humanity, and the rest, the greed, envy, and lust, all of it is because Andal did not have a bigger hand in our creation. Thus they deem it their duty to ride in the name of Andal, to highlight the good qualities he has imparted upon us, show that his influence was not in vain, that the good, the truth, the just, still exist in this world, and in doing so they hope to become beacons of Andal's truth for all to see. For they believe the hardships of Aerion could all be rectified if we all learned to be a little more like the great Andal himself—just, true, and honorable.

On the Day of the Lord's Light, a holiday which the Knights of Andal upkeep that sports much drinking and feasting and festivities in the name of their esteemed god, one of the monks in the monastery found a baby, seemingly a newborn, left unattended, wrapped in a golden cloth, at the top of the great stone steps that lead up to the monastery entrance. Whether the baby was left their by divine will or simply a mother looking for a home for a baby they could not care for is not known (although the uncertainty only adds to Sir Duncan's legend), but the Knights of Andal took in this baby as one of their own, claiming that the fact that he was left on their door step on the Day of the Lord's Light was a sign, a sign that he was to be Andal's Chosen, a champion of all that was good and just in the world. And so they named him Duncan, to honor Sir Duncan Illywin, who was the founder of the Knights of Andal, and gave him the surname of Goldenheir, for he would be heir to the new, golden world, that which would be fashioned in Andal's image, that the Knights of Andal intended to create.

Thus, they raised Duncan as one of their own. Duncan spent years in those stone courtyards, through cloudy days and those filled with sun, sparring, training, and learning the ins and outs of swordplay. He spent hours in the monastery rooms, learning from old, aging monks the teachings of Andal, the tenants of chivalry, and other basic skills, like reading and basic arithmetic. As was customary, after years of learning, Duncan was made a squire at 15, and he was assigned to the tutelage of Sir Joshua Greer. As Sir Joshua's squire, Duncan would look after his horse, clean his weapons, and accompany him to the battlefield, as his sort of coming-of-knighthood initiation. Duncan was a loyal squire for three years, until his eighteenth birthday, when he was dubbed a Knight for his actions at the Battle of Chokecherry Hill. The Knights of Andal had faced off against a sect of swell swords who had taken over the small trading settlement, and Sir Joshua Greer was slain in battle. Duncan famously fended off three swellswords by his self, and dragged Sir Joshua's body off the battle field, slinging it atop his horse so that the noble man may have been afforded a proper, righteous burial in the eyes of Andal.

Since then, Sir Duncan Goldenheir has served honorably as knight, known as a guardian of the meek, and protector of those who cannot protect themselves, and as a result of his tenacious pursuit of justice he has become one of, if not the most, prominently known Knight of Andal. His deeds precede him, and his fiercesome fighting style has created a legend that perhaps by this point outlives actuality, with many referring to him as the Lion of Dawn. Now, as one of the most respected Knights of his region, he has been summoned to help represent Ethora to the Order of Ekilore. So he forges on forwards, the Great Lord Andal as his guide.

Weapon Preference; Nothing beats good, old, reliable iron steel and stone hilt; Sir Duncan's steel sword, whose hilt bears the Roaring Golden Lion which serves as the Sigil of the Knights of Andal, which he has named "Order."

Side; Knights

Name: Catskull Maclung
Age: 33
Height: 6'4"
Weight: 246 pounds
Boxing Reach: 80.0 in
Race: Human
Dominant Hand: Left
Weapons and Equipment-

*A Damascus steel Dane sword with the following specifications-
Overall length: 58" (147 cm)
Blade length: 42" (106.7 cm)
Blade width at base: 1.4" (3.5 cm)
CoG: 4" (10.2 cm)
CoP: 24.5" (62.2 cm)
Weight: 4 lbs 10 oz (2.1 kg)



*A 16" X 16" five pound targe buckler strapped to his right forearm with five 5" spikes.

*A rope tied about his waist just below a leather belt.

*A stiletto with an eight inch blade.

*A black steel helm fitted firmly to his head.


*Steel plating inside the knuckles of his leather gloves, inside his boots, and over his knees.

*Beneath his robes is a full layer of steel scale armor with another layer of pleated leather beneath. His full armor kit weighs in at a total of 24 pounds.

Appearance- Catskull is a large, pale-skinned man with rugged, imposing angular facial features and a black bowl cut framing dull yellow eyes. He's of a powerful, sturdy, and lithe build.

Country of Origin: Ellessar

Personality- Sometimes good guys don't wear white. Catskull is not a nice man, nor a reasonable man, nor a sane man. He prides himself on being a cultured and educated with nerves of steel. He values class and social standing, is well-spoken, and stays far, far away from those he deems to be 'peasants'. He comes off as cold-hearted, and that's because he is. He generally sticks to what's legal and doesn't antagonize those who stay out of his way, and if he sees someone in need of help, he'll help them if he likes them. On the flipside, he has no mercy for those who cross him.
Catskull has a dark sense of humor, and he's fond of making light (or dark) of any situation no matter how grim or whimsical. He seems to suffer from an inability to take anything seriously, besides not letting 'peasants' touch him. He's immensely selfish, and never shares unless it's a matter of life or death, or loss of limb. He will frequently perform random, inconsequential actions for no good reason, purely on a whim, but remains dedicated to the purpose of restoring his family's name and wealth.

Background- There existed a clan of nobles known as the Maclungs, lead by the evil sorcerer Malimore Maclung. Malimore, unbeknownst to his clan, had been slowly siphoning the life from his own kin to extend his own. When a Maclung's life force inevitably dwindled, they'd "run out of luck", dooming them and their bloodline to a life of fatal misfortune. Every Maclung, cruel in their own right due to their lack of a spirit and conscience, died before the age of thirty. There have only ever been two exceptions. The dark wizard Suliss Maclung, the chosen pupil and future successor to Malimore, and Catskull Maclung who was spared his soul. He was the only one Malimore allowed to remain whole due to the old sorcerer's need for a competent bodyguard, unplagued by bad luck and a short life expectancy.

Malimore had Catskull trained in the ancient arts of man and beast slaying, and had the many of the most fearsome warriors in the world teach him the ways of combat. He mastered the versatile Dane sword in conjunction with a targe, his already diabolical strength amplified by the weight of the targe to such an extend that he can separate a man into two halves lengthwise with a horse cut. He learned to use his blade as well as his body, and his body as well as his blade.

Catskull could have grown into a truly decent fellow, if his uncle hadn't been so ridiculously evil. Fortunately Catskull was intent on being his own man, not the bitch of an old monster, and soon he ditched Malimore and fled to new lands, seeking to establish his own house of nobility and recreate the Maclung bloodline properly. Once he has resurrected the House Maclung, he intends to slay his wicked uncle and brother and end the bloodline curse of the Maclungs for good.
Until then, he wanders, seeking fortune, fame, and worthy adversaries with whom he may hone his skills.

Side: None; Catskull is a wandering warrior.

Name:
Oriril Raasan, First Sword of the Wilt-Leaf Clan

Age:
29

Gender:
Male

Race:
Elf

Country of Origin:
Miracia

Personality:
Oriril is a surprisingly calm individual that keeps most flashy displays of emotion down to a minimum. His level headed approach to most situations help him keep a level head when approaching potentially dangerous situations. Polite to a fault, Oriril always addresses other with a sense of respect and always in the manner befitting the First Sword of the Wilt-Leaf. A charismatic powerhouse he has been known to charm his way out of most situations able to talk circles around many of his potential foes.

Despite all these traits Oriril isn't without his flaws. He carries himself with a carefree lackadaisical attitude, rarely taking anything too seriously. It often times doesn't hit him the seriousness of a situation until arrows start flying. Oriril carries himself under the standards of his people's heroes who rely on honor to the end and everyone fights fairly. While this ideal is a good one to have, not everyone shares this sentiment which often leaves Oriril stuck in messy situations. Arrogance is perhaps one of Oriril's greatest downfalls. He thinks so highly of himself and his abilities he will often flaunt them to a point where he gets into more trouble than he solves.

History:
Oriril lived a rather leisurely life as a high born among the Wilt-Leaf clan. Sworn protectors of Miracia the Wilt-Leaf tend to live life with a sworn and solemn existence, Oriril was different. He lead a rather carefree existences and life was good for many years, until the ravages of war reared its ugly head. While crossing the border into Ethora the caravan carrying Ori and his father was attacked by bandits, human bandits.

Now was it their knowledge that the caravan held a convoy for peaceful negotiations between the elven nation and Ethora no one know, but what is known is that this moment seeded a deep mistrust in the human race for Oriril. Seeing their viciousness first hand Ori dedicated his life to wielding complete martial prowess on the battlefield so that now elf would ever suffer at the hands of human barbarism. When it came for him to decide on a weapon he could have chosen weapons that many of his kin gravitate towards; a bow, dual daggers or short swords, but when it came down to it none held any sway over him. Only a leaf-blade, an ancient longsword wielded by warriors of bygone ages, seemed appropriate to wield.

So for years he studied the history of his people learning anything he could about his people, learning their ancient ways of combat and eventually surpassing any that could stop him.
Weapon Preference:
A single elven leaf blade. A simple and elegant design whose blade runs 60cm in length which runs directly into a leaf shaped hilt. The handle is a Darkwood wrapped in fine leather and from the end hangs the emblem of the Wilt-Leaf clan, a Dark green leaf that is turning into a copper brown leaf with two swords crossing in front of it.

Side:
Knights of Ekilore

Name: Edon Wolf
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Country of Origin: Raelus
Appearance:


Edon comes from a long line of warriors. While the Wolf house was never a major player, its members are known for being big, skilled and aggressive. Edon stands at 6'2" and weighs around 210lbs. He is fit and quick, trained from a child to defend the honor of his house and his nation.

Personality:
Edon is typically proud for a Raelusian. He is also pragmatic, reserved and, in a fight, ruthless. While he is not too good for some fun and recreation with the fighting men, he prefers to handle his affairs quickly and efficiently. Idle, aimless chatter tends to annoy him and he will not stand for dereliction of duty. He holds himself to his own high standards of personal fitness, hygiene and decency. It is no secret at all that he is ambitious and believes himself fit for a much higher station than a mere soldier. He is quick to anger over perceived personal insults and detests the 'unwashed masses'.

As is the case with many from his homeland, Edon sees those of other lands as inferior. Added to that his status as nobility (even if minor) and you have a person can easily dismiss anybody beneath his own status. Although he is reserved, he tends to have a massive chip on his shoulder when put into a position where he is subordinate to anybody he sees as beneath him.

He is not too proud to notice his own flaws, however. Losing his legion was a major blow to his ego. While normally the idea of serving under somebody like Varian would be rejected outright, Edon recognized that the man has been more successful than he. He intends fully to learn as much as he can from the Highman.

History:
Edon was born to a minor noble house. Being a fighter at heart and knowing his nations reservedness about sending their own into war, he used his inheritance to start his own mercenary legion. He was never a soldier in service to his own nation (instead going straight into the field as a mercenary) but he was raised from childhood to lead men and to kill men. His family, although minor, were militant ultranationalists and maintained a small but elite house guard.

They were a relatively small but well trained outfit of mounted infantry (they rode on horseback to an area then dismounted to engage in fighting). In order to blood his men and build a name for themselves, he took high risk missions that saw them used as heavy shock infantry, highly mobile quick relief force and counter-cavalry actions. His goal was to, eventually, take up missions where his men would be personal guard to high value individuals.

While his men performed well, he found himself part of a failed assault with no backup to save them. After fierce fighting, the officer opposite to him allowed Edon and his surviving men to surrender with honors. His group disbanded after that due to their losses and Edon chose to seek employment as a mere soldier in a rival mercenary group to try and work his way back up to a leadership position. It was at this low point in his life that he was picked up by Varian's outfit.

Weapon Preference: Trained primarily with the Bastard Sword but uses a Halberd as his main fighting weapon. As a last resort and for utility work, a Rondel dagger.
Side: Mercenary

Name: Kadrin Aakre
Age: 27
Gender: Female
Race: Human
Country of Origin: Raelus



Personality: Kadrin has developed few meaningful social bonds due to her cynical disposition. As a result, she is often rough around the edges when interacting with others. She views honing her fighting technique as more pleasant than small talk, and is typically reserved and tight lipped about her past. She’s more inclined to resort to uncouth or self deprecating humor to avoid talking about herself. Rather than spread lies and misinformation, she gets creative in the ways that she changes a subject or answers a question. Kadrin is hesitant to place her trust in others, and anticipates a moment when someone will turn on her. However, she is blunt and finds no qualms in voicing suspicions that she might have.

History: Despite spending most of her years in Raelus, Kadrin was raised with the traditional Miraheim values of her father. Having lost her mother to illness at such a young age, she knew little about that side of her family. The only thing she was able to assume was that her father had come to Raelus, and then married her mother some time after. She was never able to ascertain whether her mother was the reason for him leaving Miraheim behind, or whether it was something else that had brought him to Raelus. He held his tongue in all related matters.

During Kadrin’s formative years, she often envisioned following her father’s example by pursuing a life similar to the one that he had lead. The way that he spoke fondly of his time as a Highman in Miraheim made her want to leave Raelus behind, especially with the values and ideals she was exposed to in Raelus. Kadrin imagined that when she became old enough that she might try to convince her father to return to Miraheim. However, it was something that never happened the way that she had planned.

Kadrin spent most of her youth getting into trouble with those around her age by fighting in the streets and picking up fighting habits that her father disapproved of. She used dirty tactics that involved taking advantage of her opponents rather than having a clean, fair fight. Those that engaged in such fights were often met with grave injuries, and there was much debate about whether Kadrin should be forbidden from such recreational activities. He insisted that she was too young, and that there was no honor in fighting without purpose. Such tactics should be reserved for later. There was a time and a place for such fighting.

Ignoring her father’s words was Kadrin’s detriment, and would prove to be her greatest regret. Kadrin went seeking the group that she typically met with to spar, eager to improve her fighting abilities even more. Aspirations of becoming a skilled warrior motivated her to continue seeking fights against her father’s wishes. When she reached the typical meeting place, the boys that she often fought with ran from the alley as another boy lay lifeless on the ground. The loss of a life was something that was typically ignored, but it was different since the boy that died was the son of a noble Lord.

The betrayal Kadrin experienced was something that she viewed as a blessing and curse. She realized that the loyalty she had granted her friends was misplaced, which ultimately affected any subsequent relationships she formed. Since it was learned that a group frequented the area, Kadrin was pointed out as a likely culprit. Her friends claimed that they hadn’t been in the area that day, and insisted that they were together. However, Kadrin was said to be unaccounted for.

When it came time for Kadrin to be held accountable, her father stepped forward and claimed fault for the crime. He insisted that he had come to reprimand Kadrin for getting into such fights and had acted hastily when he saw that she was doing the very thing that he had asked her not to do. Underestimating his strength, he had acted hastily as any parent would do. Whether he believed that she was actually responsible when taking credit for the crime that she was charged with wasn’t something that Kadrin was ever able to find out since her father was executed for petty treason.

With her father’s death, Kadrin also become obsessed with the idea of proving his innocence and punishing everyone responsible. She began by trying to poke holes in alibis, especially after learning that the ones investigating the matter had connections to the ones that were actually responsible. She called to question the severity of the punishment when he hadn’t actually been responsible, and tried to reveal the actual culprits. However, she quickly learned that she would face the same fate he had if she kept trying to unearth the corruption in her city.

Ten years had passed since Kadrin made attempts to prove her father’s innocence. She hadn’t completely given up on clearing his name in spite of his death, but she made no evident effort when she realized that his death might be for nothing if she continued to persist with the matter. Instead, she left for Miraheim to pursue training among Highmen and sailors. Kadrin sought training as a way to remind herself about what her father stood for, and to try and better understand him.

While becoming a proper Highmen had once been her greatest ambition, Kadrin realized that the lifestyle was different than what she had expected it to be. She didn’t believe in anything anymore. Instead, she spent the following few years living the life of a vagrant mercenary.

Weapon Preference: Kadrin’s primary weapon proficiency is with a sword. She has found pairing her fighting style from Raelus with Miraheim weaponry to prove challenging at times since she feels her movements are more limited. In addition to her blade, she also carries a small axe on her person.

Side: Mercenaries

Name: Folkmar of Raven Rock
Age: 21
Gender: Male
Race: Orc
Country of Origin: Miraheim
Appearance:

Personality: Folkmar is proud, if not a bit rigid. He generally wants the best for those around him, but it’s usually a result of him wanting to work to the best of his ability. He has a strong sense of self worth, which leans into haughtiness on occasion, and an even stronger belief that his way of doing things is the right way. This isn’t because he thinks he’s naturally right, but because he strictly adheres to the ways of his clan, in which he sees great value. In his mind, everyone could do with acting a little more like an orc. This coincides with his strong devotion to Gor-Gashuur, the fearsome orc god, associated with brutality, murder, and conquest, as well as shaping the monsters that venerate it.
History: Folkmar was raised knowing one thing. 'Strong' is good. Gor-Gashuur made them strong, and for that, he was worshiped. Folkmar was strong, and for that he was praised. His father was weak, and for that, he was never spoken of. His mother was strong because she cared for him, kept him from the humans until he was ready.
However, he was never really ready. Not really. Due to his mixed blood, he aged slower than the orcs around him, so others had plenty of chances to stake their claims towards chiefdom before he was physically capable.
Still, he felt his strength, considerable as it was, must be used for something. Then, one day, despite the warnings of the tribe, he looked to the humans. They didn’t have the strength of Gor-Gashuur on their side. Their warriors couldn’t do what he could. So, he decided to bring both to their aid, while following the teachings of his tribe, inspired by Gor-Gashuur.
He would lend his strength, protect them, and bring them into his grip. However, in leaving the will of his tribe, he was to be considered as good as dead.
As a parting gift, he was given a ‘riding dog’ (which is a large tusked wolf cultivated by orcs) and a tracking raven, and sent on his way.
Weapon Preference: Lance, Warhammer
Side: Mercenary