Appearance


Personality


Background


History The Skywatcher family is an ancient family that can trace its roots all the way back to the founding of the city-state of Thundrim Thukarn. Where other family's built shops, shaped tunnels, or made laws, the Skywatchers built walls, shaped defenses, and made weapons. They spent their blood, sweat, gold, and tears to defend Thukarn from any threat that would attempt to destroy it, and without them the Thundrim surely would have been destroyed. They founded the Horizon Guard, that venerable institution that protects Thukarn to this day. They gave up most of their wealth and political influence in the name of defending the Thundrim and without them most of the Thundrim's defenses wouldn't even be made. The history of the Skywatchers is etched into every square inch of Thukarn in blood.

Or so the Skywatchers claim at the very least. Their rivals, particularly the hated Stonehands, are quick to point out that their own family's gave a great deal to build Thukarn as well. That their own family's spent blood and gold to build it up from the simple Virke it had started out as to the mighty Thundrim it was today. They are quick to point out that the Horizon Guard isn't even mostly Skywatchers, and is open to everyone. There are heroes in every family, and each one claims that their own ancient influence is the reason Thundrim Thukarn exists today. It is an open debate, which family gave the most and had the biggest hand in making Thukarn what it is today, and it will likely never be settled.

The Skywatchers have always guarded the perimeter of Thundrim Thukarn, either defending the tunnels monsters in the depths or preventing unwanted outsiders from the mountain ranges from finding their way in. The family founded the Horizon Guard to patrol and protect the Thundrim, a fact they are immensely proud of. The Skywatchers are outside of the Thundrim more than any other family, and are much more militant than any other dwarven noble family. Pride, discipline, sacrifice, and duty form the core of the Skywatchers family values.

A Skywatcher is expected to give their lives to the Thundrim. They were its original guardians, and their destiny is set from birth. There is no other path and no other choices allowed. Theirs's is to be a life of service and sacrifice, no matter what the cost is personally or to the family.

This is the family that Faeril was born into. The fierce pride and dedication, the sense of civic duty and willingness to do anything to ensure the continued existence and safety of Thukarn. He was groomed from as early an age as possible to join the Horizon Guard and defend the Thundrim. A constant refrain was pounded into his head at every available opportunity. "You must give your all to Thukarn. There is nothing more important than your protection of and service to the Thundrim. There is nothing you will not do to protect it from harm."

Over and over again until the mantra became seared into his memory, into his core being. It became essential to who he was. He even tattooed the reminder of his family into his back, the Skywatcher symbol and their family tree. It was to give him strength and pride, remembering what he stood for and how many of his ancestors stood behind him.

He joined the Horizon Guard as soon as he was able too, passing the tests with flying colors and ascending the ranks with remarkable speed. He was born to do this. It was his destiny. Whatever the Horizon Guard asked of him, he did. He stalked through the wooded mountains that surrounded the surface entrance to Thundrim Thukarn, hunting down a band of orcs that were threatening the surface trade. He held a shield wall in the dark tunnels, battling back a raid from the hated Dorcha. He hunted down and brought back criminals that tried to escape the Thundrim, alive or dead as the Council of Thukarn requested. He lead his men on expeditions to cull monsters in the tunnels or in the forests. For decades, whatever the Horizon Guard or the Council asked of him, Faeril did without question and nearly flawlessly. He was a hero throughout the Thundrim, and songs to his glory were sang in every tavern of Thukarn.

While he publicly appeared humble, Faeril reveled in the adulation and glory his successes were bringing him. Of course he should be applauded and respected for this. It was his destiny and he was seizing it far more successfully than anyone in the city. He was not seizing his destiny alone, nor without help though.

Through the blessings of Woegrim he was victorious in battle. Through the blessings of Hildegur he was protecting Thukarn and expanding its borders. Through the patronage of Gaundet his career was skyrocketing. Through the blessings of Gaerim his death was sure to be easy and well remembered. He gave praise to those four gods that clearly favoured him most constantly, with either muttered prayers or public sacrifices.

He was bringing great honor not only to the Skywatcher family, but to himself. Thukarn needed him. Without him and his family, it surely would be destroyed. He was well on his way to being the commander of the Horizon Guard, with all of the prestige and power that rank had. He was by far the best choice for the role, as surely everyone saw. With his successes, his leadership ability, and the sheer fact that his bloodline had created the organization in the first place, his ascendancy was guaranteed.

But not everyone saw his rising star as a good thing. The Stonehands, ancient blood rivals of the Skywatchers for centuries whispered accusations and rumors of Faeril's true nature. He was not the humble servant of Thukarn as he pretended to be. He was cruel, and power hungry. He desired the command of the Horizon Guard not because he was the best man for the job once the current commander died, but because it was the most power any one dwarf could have. He lusted for power and desperately desired to use it. Could Thukarn really put a dwarf like that into power? Could they really trust someone as cruel as Faeril to be just and fair?

The accusations enraged Faeril. The fact that it was all true was irrelevant. How dare they assume to know the burdens of command? How dare they question his methods of justice! How dare this family of petty house builders have the gall to get in the way of his destiny! He was a Skywatcher! Everything he did was in service of the Thundrim, and every 'cruel action' he did was in its protection!

The more Faeril heard and thought about the words of the Stonehands, the more enraged he became. They had been a thorn in the side of his family for centuries.. Every time the Skywatchers said yes, the Stonehands said no. If the Skywatchers said left, the Stonehands said right. If the Skywatchers said that iron was grey, the Stonehands would claim that iron was really brown. It was disgusting that a bunch of glorified carpenters disrespected his venerable family for so long.

There had been attempts to silence them, of course. Public duels, both in the arena of Thukarn and in the legal halls. Illegal street fights that occurred in the back alleys of the Thundrim. Assassination attempts, bribes, threats. No matter how many times the Skywatchers crushed the Stonehands like roaches beneath their boots, the Stonehands always came scuttling back to insult and degrade the Skywatchers.

Soon enough, debates and questions began to open up about if Faeril should be named successor to the commander. What once was seen as an easy decision, practically guaranteed to him upon the death of the current commander, now was in doubt. He could be denied his destiny, passed up for some inferior nobody, all because of the hateful mutterings of the Stonehands.

Faeril had finally had enough. He was going to eradicate the Stonehands once and for all. They were a threat to the unity and stability of the Thundrim. If he wasn't made commander, it would be disastrous for Thundrim Thukarn as a whole. He couldn't allow that. He wouldn't allow that. He would protect Thukarn, no matter the cost.

In the night, with a five of his most loyal supporters, Faeril snuck into the family mansion of the Stonehands. The house guards they had were no match for him and his elite warriors. They fell silently, and soon the Stonehands were left defenseless. From there, the plan went off without a hitch. Room by room, hall by hall, Faeril and his followers executed the Stonehands. There was no sounds, there were no warnings. Just silent, focused, slaughter.

Everything was going according to plan until the very end. They had found the last surviving member of the Stonehands, the head of the family, in his study. No doubt writing more slanderous lies about the Skywatchers. Before they could finish the deal, one of Faeril's compatriots knocked over a vase.

Glancing up and seeing six dwarves covered in blood, the old Stonehand reacted quickly. He threw his desk over to provide some cover and jumped out of the second story window behind him. Landing awkwardly with a cry of pain and a distinct limp he fled down the street and cried out for help from the local town guards. Faeril put a crossbow bolt through his back, finishing the job, but not before the local guardsmen were alerted. After seeing the head of the Stonehands fall dead in the street, they sounded the alarm and converged en masse on the home of the Stonehands.

Faeril and his compatriots could not escape. Cornered in the house, with no where to hide, they surrendered. Despite the panic of his compatriots, Faeril was smiling as they took him away in chains. The council and the Thundrim would see what he had done as a regrettable, but necessary action to protect Thukarn from an insidious an corrupt family. He would be publicly reprimanded, but privately hailed as a hero. His family would welcome him back a champion of Thukarn. How could they not? His actions had only been done in the name of the Thundrim. He would be out of jail by tomorrow.

Faeril was wrong.

The Thundrim and the Council were horrified by his actions. His family was disgusted to their cores. His five compatriots were immediately executed, having no influence of their own and no defense that would spare their lives. The only thing that saved Faeril was that his father couldn't bear to watch his son's death. Leveraging the considerable influence of the Skywatchers and the exemplary record of service Faeril had accrued up until this point, Faeril's father had him exiled from the North entirely. He would be given to their allies within the humans, and shipped with their criminals to lands far outside of the north. But not before the symbol of his family, and their entire family line, was burned off of his back. They were banishing him, fully and truly, and he would not be allowed to wear their mark.

Faeril almost wished he had been executed instead. The shame, disgust, fury and disappointment in his family's eyes burned him more than the flames ever could have. What had he done wrong? He had done exactly as he had been taught from day one. Exactly as had been pressed upon him from birth. Protect Thukarn, at all costs. So why was he being punished? Why was his family looking at him like a monster? What had he done wrong?

As he was being carted away from the only home he had ever known, Faeril realized the truth.

He had done nothing wrong. The Council, the Thundrim Thukarn, his own family, they had all been jealous of the blessings the gods had heaped upon him. They were afraid of his power and his will, and as such had betrayed him out of cowardice. Yes, they were afraid of what he would become if allowed to fully seize his destiny, and so they had denied him it. They were too cowardly to risk the gods wrath by killing him, so they sent him away in the hopes that he would die in some foreign land.

That is what had happened. They were afraid, and he had done nothing wrong.

Reason for Exile
Blood feud. After killing his family’s rivals, ending their bloodline and thus them as a threat once and for all, Faeril was only spared from execution by his father’s influence and his record of service to the city.

Motivation
Faeril wants power. Not to go back and forcibly retake his place among his family and his city, no. Faeril wants power out of spite. They sent him in exile to die? For doing only what was right? He’s not going to give them the satisfaction. He’s going to gain power, prestige, and wealth and they’re going to know that he not only survived their betrayals, he thrived.



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Personality


Background


History (Optional)

Raised to make an advantageous marriage Emmaline rebelled against her parent's early on and fled to the dangerous streets of the city. Once there she rapidly fell in with underworld element. She worked as a dancer and actress before being taken under the wing of a notorious con-artist who used her charms to pull confidence scams and to case the homes of rich admirers.

During one of these cons Emmaline became involved with a particularly debauched nobleman who dabbled in black magic. Believing it to be a bunch of simple tricks and nonsense Emmaline went ahead with the con. It was a red flag when she found herself naked and tied in an arcane circle, but it was rather too late at that point. The nobleman, the Black Count, wanted to use Emmaline as a sacrifice in a ritual. She was drugged with wine infused with dark magics, and as she struggled to get free, watching the knife come down a voice sounded in her head. Emmaline had never heard of Zagonath the Whisperer, but when he spoke to her she used the words he provided, striking her captor dead. Unfortunately Zagonath was less forth coming on how to escape from her bonds, and she was still bound up when the guards broke down the door and arrested everyone in the house.

Despite her protestation of innocence, the Temple Court found that Emmaline had been touched by dark magic. It was also clear that it had been involuntary, and after weeks of debate a compromise was struck. Rather than being burned she sent into exile with nothing but the clothes on her back. Actually they had to provide the clothes, but the metaphor stands.

Reason for Exile
Passing false coins, petty theft, fraud, prostitution, consorting with ye olde powers of darkness.

Motivation
Safety. Emmaline is fundamentally fearful and seeking some kind of sanctuary. Through her own foolishness she dabbled in dark powers that she doesn't understand or know how to control. Having spent her entire life in Andraad, she now finds herself in exile and alone.



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Mysticism 4/4]

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Your characters have only known one another for the week it has taken to move your wagon through the Inner Kingdoms, with only a marginal time to speak. This is where you put your initial thoughts of each character, and you edit these as their opinions change. This also includes the Merc NPC.

Appearance


Personality


Background


History
Reyvadin Ismirala Vaegir is the second son to Kundar Taisa Vaegir, a boyar of a prosperous Banian city called Yruma. Reyvadin was naturally born with a silver spoon, benefiting from luxuries better than even his fellow nobles. Plentiful food, medicine, an education, and to never need to struggle for survival. That's not to say that Reyvadin has never felt hardship. But unlike most commoners, Reyvadin's struggles was deliberate for conditioning, not an unfortunate side effect of being lowborn. As the second son of the boyar Reyvadin was not expected to inherit his father's legacy, but he was still given training and an education as a squire at a young age of six. Reyvadin actually took to his training very well: he learned how not to indulge in plenty, tempering his will against temptation and handled discipline with dignity rather than trying to skirt punishment. But at the same time, he learned how to conduct himself before nobility and speak on behalf of not just himself, but for those he represents as well.

But despite being tempered by strict mentors, Reyvadin still had a childish imagination. He was especially enamored by historical tales of knights and heroes, of gods and their champions, against the forces of evil, darkness, and corruption. But this curiosity was not limited to merely books. Reyvadin made it a point to seek out those who are preyed upon these foul influences, not to slay them, but to save them. Often in these tales many of the villains could be considered those who lacked guidance in their time of need, and turn to vile forces in order to survive or achieve their goal. Reyvadin wanted to be a hero who could defeat his enemies with kindness, but defend his people with force. Living up to these childish ideals is what drove Reyvadin to take his training seriously as he soon traded his story books for history books, learning the real history behind his family's fortunes, the history of his people, and who exactly his enemies are.

As he grew into a young man Reyvadin already showed much promise as a knight. His skill with the bow was almost as good as some veterans, and his ability to fight from horseback both alone and in a formation was notable for someone who has not yet tasted battle yet. At the same time Reyvadin made friends with many people from his city, in particular a mercenary named Valdym. Valdym was a childhood friend of Reyvadin, an orphan boy who had helped Reyvadin as a youth from some bullies. Despite his low station he was willing to fight for Reyvadin, and in turn Reyvadin did his best to help Valdym, enabling the young orphan to become a strong leader and warrior, commanding his own company of soldiers. Together the two worked together in many battles, with Reyvadin leading his knights to creation openings for Valdym's men to exploit and overwhelm their foes. Reyvadin even wanted to raise Valdym as a Yeoman, someone who could own land and even lead a village despite lacking noble blood. But Valdym wanted more than that. Much more.

Though he considers himself honorable, Reyvadin was not blind to his rivals and enemies. Many of Reyvadin's personal enemies include fellow nobles from rival families, who feel his family's current station is undeserved or wasted. There were also the commonfolk, who chafe under his father's rule due to his adherence to the Church, enforcing many laws and lifestyles that someone of noble birth can deal with, but much harder for those who lack the means or wealth. That wasn't even including the slaves that were often taken from those who would threaten the Banians, such as Norgardians, vampires, orcs, and anyone else who'd raise a sword against them. All these people eventually would eventually come together and bring an end to Reyvadin's comfortable life.

It began one winter's day. The snow had stopped falling for a few days and the sun could be seen through the clouds, signalling the call for spring. The Norgardians were once more approaching to raid one of the villages near Yruma, and finally a knight of his own standing, Reyvadin volunteered to take his men to repel the invaders. In particular he hoped to capture many of them to work the fields for the coming spring, and even received word that leading the Norgardians was a notable warrior prince, who Reyvadin hoped to capture in order to negotiate against the Norgardians. Reyvadin had the advantage of initiative, knowing where his foes would land and setting up the battlefield to lure the Norgardians into a defensive feint. He had laid traps along the coast to weaken the encroaching forces, sabotaged passages to crush and cut off the Norgardians into facing his forces head on through the hazards he had already set up, as well as scuttling the boats they took so they had no voice but to march to their death. Everything was perfect. But Reyvadin never expected treachery.

At first everything went as according to plan. The Norgardians landed and suffered many causalities as they struggled to secure the beach. Traps were triggered and forced the raiders to charge headlong into Reyvadin. He personally led the cavalry that harried the Norgardians, forcing them to be on the defensive. But when Reyvadin retreated to lure the Norgardians into a trap, Reyvadin's men were missing. He had always relied on Valdym to command his foot soldiers, to hold the line against the enemy and fight in the bloodiest of melees. But when Reyvadin needed them most, they were gone. The Norgardians advanced forward, still holding out against Reyvadin's forces. He thought perhaps Valdym simply hadn't gotten into position yet, and so he commanded his Calvary to finish firing as many arrows as they had on them and smash through the Norgardians with lances and spears. However the damage Reyvadin's knights did was not enough: the Norgardians quickly rallied and raised their pikes against Reyvadin's knights, losing many to a wall of spears. Reyvadin was forced to retreat back to his camp and try and figure out what had happened to the rest of his army.

But even Reyvadin's camp was missing. The people who would care and feed his army was gone, along with the foot soldiers who were suppose to hold the line against the Norgardians. In the distance Reyvadin saw fire coming from the village and when he arrived, he found it pillaged to the ground. Dead villagers laid where they died on the ground, crops that weren't taken were burnt, buildings set on fire and plundered. Without supplies or backup Reyvadin had to force his knights back to the city, which to his horror was fighting a battle of it's own. A slave revolt had started from within while Reyvadin was gone. His family's mutilated bodies hung from the castle walls. Reyvadin and his knights fought off as many slaves as they could to find out who was responsible. And that's where Reyvadin found Valdym.

He had sold out Reyvadin to his enemies. Incited a revolt among the slaves when Reyvadin had left with most of the knights from the city. Ensured that Reyvadin's family was killed in the violence. Reyvadin didn't even have the forces to retake the city completely, as most of his knights were too exhausted from the fighting to be able to take on the mass of slaves revolting, not to mention Valdym's own mercenary company, who not only were ready to battle but outnumbered Reyvadin's own forces. Even so... In fury, Reyvadin raised his weapon against his best friend, for revenge. The two battled fiercely, Reyvadin's knights going sword-to-sword against Valdym's warriors. But just as Reyvadin thought he had the upperhand, his men were finally cut down and Reyvadin was slashed across the face by one of Valdym's warriors. It seemed like it would be his end.

But ironically enough, Reyvadin had the Norgardians to thank for saving him. They began to attack the city and arrived when Reyvadin was about to be executed by Valdym. In the chaos Reyvadin managed to flee with a horse, leaving the city behind. He knew that Valydm would no doubt he able to repel the Norgardians, but he would need to dedicate his manpower to do so, leaving Reyvadin precious time to get as far as he could. He went south and sought sanctuary with a ransom broker Reyvadin had regular dealings with. It was through this man that Reyvadin learned the full extent of what Valdym had done: After Reyvadlin's disastrous battle against the Norgardians, Valdym concocted a story where his men retreated back to the city, rallying the common folk against the "corrupt nobility" that was the Vaegir family, ousting them and rallying the people to send the Norgardians back to their boats. Not only that, but other nobles spoke out for Valdym and his character while also slandering the Vaegir family, accusing them of all sorts of heresy and destroying what reputation they had. For his valor and courage, Valdym took the city of Yruma, quelled the rebellion, and appealed to the queen to join her as a vassal. In barely a week Valdym went from mercenary captain to Boyar, and Reyvadin was reduced from a noble knight to a deadman with a dishonored name.

It took all of Reyvadin's willpower not to act out in rage at that very moment. To return to Yruma with blade in hand and kill Valdym, regardless of the risks. But the ransom broker who was sheltering Reyvadin advised him against this. He would merely die, and in doing so ensure Valdym wins absolutely. Such transitions of power were not unusual among the Banians, nor were stories of exiled young lords returning to take back their rightful thrones. Reyvadin needed to act with a clear mind and a steady head, and must first focus on regaining much needed wealth. If Reyvadin wanted to retake his city, he'll need an army, and for that he needed money. His name was worth nothing now that his family was dead and whatever wealth he had was limited to what Reyvadin hard taken to battle, but he was a skilled knight and educated. He would need to use his skills to make a name for himself not as the son of the former Boyar of Yruma, but as Reyvadin himself.

Steeling his resolve Reyvadin headed south where news of what happened to his family would not be known. Where no one would have any preconceived notion as to who he was so that he could gain an untainted reputation for his deeds, instead of rumors and slander. He had to sell his weapons and armor to the ransom broker in order to ensure his safe passage but Reyvadin was confident he would be able to find better arms and armor once he gets some steady work. Because despite everything that happened Reyvadin's will was not broken so easily. He would return and retake what was rightfully his with his own hands, by blood and steel.

Reason for Exile
Family was killed by a treacherous friend and Reyvadin will mostly likely be killed if he stays within Banians territory.

Motivation
Reyvadin needs to amass the money and power to retake his city from Valdym. With his family's name besmirched by his enemies, Reyvadin needed to go somewhere where no one would know who the Vaegir are so that he can rebuild his family's reputation.



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𝔑𝔞𝔪𝔢

Migi Blackbarrow

ℜ𝔞𝔠𝔢 | 𝔄𝔤𝔢 | 𝔖𝔢𝔵

Burrowfolk | Thirty-One | Female

𝔄𝔭𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢

Migi is the height of a barstool, but with an attitude that'd make anyone think twice before mistaking her as such. Her hair is a tallow-hued mop on her head with large chunks obscuring her tawny brown eyes. Her brows are always some variation of perturbed, whether it be with the person at hand or the situation she can't get out of. Nasty scars, like the scratches from a wolf, rake over her face. Her lips might be full, but they're never inviting. Instead, she stands with her hip cocked, and her hand placed on it like it was a weapon she could draw from her arsenal. While diminutive in height, she's not in frame. The large, somewhat ill-fitting armor, belies a meek form instead of the strong one she possesses.

Her stance is pure confidence with a touch of bitterness for flavor. Migi enjoys wielding smaller mannish weapons, finding that the intricate ones made for her folk are too meek for her calling. Half of Migi's height is sheer bravado.

𝔓𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶

One might be surprised about how loud Migi is considering her height. Her lungs must be triple her size. Not one to parse opinions and find the most suitable, she's insulted many and made a few enemies. But she's fond of drinking them under the table--the drop being further for herself than for them. Boisterous, proud, sarcastic, and (self-described as) the wittiest person you'd known, Migi is unforgettable--but maybe for the wrong reasons. A nod and a wink accompany euphemisms to parts and acts that would usually go unnamed.

She's your best friend in stormy weather and a stormy friend in calm weather. Migi can't live without a fight to be had, even if she makes it herself. Prone to chaos, she'd make even The Banished Queen blush (again, her words.)

There's some of that good-natured Burrowfolk in her, though. If having to pick between a hearty meal and a grand adventure, she'd be fine with skipping the adventure for food. You can find danger around every corner--a full stomach is harder to come by.

𝔅𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔤𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡

Profession - Privateer
Class - Rogue - Swashbuckler
Heritage - Carpenter's Seventh Child

ℌ𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶

Long Story Long [+]

The start of our tale is one of darkness, cruelty, struggles of power that are unimaginable, more darkness, maybe a stormy night, blood-covered blades, and other things of the tragic narrative type. Or at least, this is how Migi might say the whole affair began. Instead, the beginning of her story is very boring, but no one is born into infamy. They have to earn it.

The seventh child, and only daughter, of Dougal and Tig Barrow from Pumpkinhollow isn't a formidable lineage. Dougal and Tig were a husband and wife duo that took to carpentry as easy as a goose takes to shanking a person with their bill. They were aggressive, followed their dreams, and no one could talk them down--or talk over them for that matter. The Barrow family all helped the business, having different aspects that they tended to. Migi was always in charge of unloading the supplies from the world outside Pumpkinhollow. They traded with the other folk very rarely, but the Burrowfolk haven couldn't provide everything however self-sufficient they were.

One day, Migi was handed an old, worn book that spoke of the Adventures in the North. She gobbled it up almost immediately. There were heroics, dashing sword fights, handsome lords, and daring ladies. She wanted so bad to be a part of the world and not at all stuck in Pumpkinhollow with the annoyance of family around. So, with a plan that she thought was both smart and brave, Migi packed her things and hid in one of the mannish carts leaving Pumpkinhollow. Her adventure was about to begin.

Unfortunately, barely a day into her grand story... things went bad. Migi didn't have a single royal to her name. Thinking she might be able to work the kitchens, much like the stories in her book, she was turned away at every turn. "How will you even reach the sink?" they spat at her. This larger world wasn't some sort of mystical place where she'd have fine adventures, but instead quicksand that threatened to swallow her whole. It wasn't until a man by the name of Robin Sanguierre met her.

It'd been her third night in the alley outside a tavern that tended to throw out its scraps. It was a hard-fought battle for them, but Migi used her size and her invisibility in her favor. The latter was what Robin saw and coveted. He brought an offer forward to the young Migi. All she had to do was rob a small merchant vessel that was docked in the dead of night and return with a wax seal. He said it was once his family's, but his father's drunken gambling debts had led it to fall into the hands of people quite unsavory. He had the coin to buy it back, but the merchants didn't wish to sell it to him. Robin told her that if she did this, he'd pay her--handsomely. More so, she could stay at his estate. Migi was elated, this was the chance she'd been waiting for.

He gave her the precise location and directions to where the seal would be, along with a small sword and a file to get the chest open. It was supposed to be easy. And maybe it would have been, but while Migi was attempting to wrench the lid on the chest open the sword fell out of her beltloop and clattered to the ground. A guard heard and rounded the corner. She'd gotten the chest popped, and she quickly turned invisible to rifle through it. Finding the seal, she pocketed it before trying to make her escape. Unfortunately, she tripped on a buckled board and clattered to the ground--her invisibility wearing off. The guard saw her and grabbed his weapon. Migi can't really tell you what happened next. What she can say was that she grabbed her sword from the ground and thrust it up trying to protect herself. The soft drip of warm blood echoed through the room before she opened her eyes to see the guard clutching his gut. Migi fled.

She returned to Robin with the seal, her hands shaking. He comforted her, telling her that she'd done a good job and that he'd honor his deal. Maybe you thought that Robin was in his entirety a liar, and you wouldn't be completely wrong. But he did have the means to pay Migi, and he did have an estate for her to live in... along with other "talented tradesmen." Robin, in truth, was actually Robin the Black, a pirate who had gotten wealthy off of stolen riches, forged titles, and coins in the right pockets.

In the time that followed, Migi Barrow would become Migi Blackbarrow a privateer for the dreaded Robin the Black. She was trained in combat, sabotage, and above all--thievery. What once was a wide-eyed girl that was delighted by the large world and terrified of any harm she might cause, turned into something unrecognizable. This wasn't a phenomenon that happened overnight. It was a slow escalation. Her fingers already felt sticky with blood despite her skin being pristine and unblemished. She tried to get away from that life, but the world outside had nothing to offer her. The thought of returning to Pumpkinhollow passed her mind, but she had not the coin to get back. Moreso, she didn't know how to proceed once she arrived. How could she work herself back into her family's good graces? It was easier to stay under the wing of Robin the Black than face the consequences of her actions. There weren't any slaps to the hand for the jobs she did for the ex-pirate. So, Migi worked up the ladder of the privateers in Robin's stead. She led her band of "talented tradesmen" out on the open water to rob merchant ships, cargo ships, and occasionally even a passenger ship or two. While she and her troupe never sought to outright kill anyone, they did give them an ultimatum--either jump into the lifeboats, off the side, or be burned alive when they set the boats ablaze. And anyone that might find it humorous to laugh at her size, or the whimsical look of her face, got a sword slapped across their cheek. Migi did not play nice.

And maybe she would have continued with this life, had it not been for the fateful night that she learned what Robin had been using the seal for.

It had been an accident. Migi had found herself rifling through the drawers in his office one evening, waiting for him to return. It was there that she saw a block of golden wax and the seal inside a velvet-lined box. She'd never gotten a good look at it that fateful night, and so she decided to take a peak this evening. It was a sword with a rose imbued into the metal. Migi had seen this symbol before, she swore. There was a strong instinct in the pit of her stomach to take the wax seal, and she did. Later that evening, while wandering through the Rooks, houses in the dock district, did she see the symbol. Recently, the port town had gotten a new judge that had taken to clearing out the "riff-raff." Robin had been warring against him in the shadows, as the judge removed people from the ancient property. So, imagine her surprise when she saw a sheet of paper nailed into a door demanding the eviction of the tenants or their execution with a glob of golden wax imprinted with a sword and rose on the bottom of it. The door was ajar, and Migi saw the blood coming from underneath the crack. She realized exactly what Robin had been doing, and the seal was a kiss of death. So, Migi fled.

Unfortunately, Robin's eyes and ears were everywhere. She'd escaped further North than she ever had been, but she still awoke the next morning to the sword at her neck and a very large warrant for her capture.

ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔈𝔵𝔦𝔩𝔢

Robbery, Arson, Destruction to Personal Property, Destruction to Business Property, Assault, Probable Murder, Public Intoxication, and Three Separate Accounts of Indecent Exposure. Seperately the offenses may not have seemed dire, but stacked together they were easily a death sentence. Yet, maybe it was the cut of her jib that led her captors to not kill her. Or at least that's what Migi tells herself. Truth is, she's probably kept alive as a link to her former patron.

𝔐𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

Migi is already so far from home, she couldn't even imagine trying to head back now. The only way for her to keep her head above water is to stay busy. She managed to make it out with a very important wax seal seal, and she can only imagine that her former patron will try to hunt her as a matter of pride. So, it's easy to be a tree in the forest as she figures out what to do. The money doesn't hurt, either.

𝔄𝔱𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔟𝔲𝔱𝔢𝔰

Combat

• Dual Wielding

Intelligence

• Engineering

Charisma

Health

• Fortitude
• Hearing

Faculties

• Intuition
• Perception

Agility

• Stealth
• Lockpick
• Swimming

Mysticism [0/1]

𝔈𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔭𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱

• Long Knife
• Brigand's Clothes
• Tattered Cloak
• Food & Water (1 Day)

𝔐𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔶

• Royals (Gold) - 0
• Lordlings (Silver) - 5
• Commons (Copper) - 0

𝔏𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔲𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔰

Northern

𝔉𝔞𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔩 𝔖𝔨𝔶𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯

"Good thing about this dwarf is that you don't have to spend much time looking for a stick tall enough to replace the one that's up his ass. He looks like some dockworkers drank him under the table and then tattooed his face, and their only input was 'blocky as dog shit.' That being said, I bet he could carry his own in a fight, and if you asked for a beating he'd deliver it with a bloody bow on top. Out all 'em, I'm sticking around him the most. If anything, he's the shape of a shield and can catch arrows even better."

"Fine. Unlike the rest of them, he actually has something of a head on his shoulders. Or at least not one filled with rocks, anyway. Though he'd love that considering his dwarfiness and all. And that means he's that much dangerous. I'll keep him close like a favorite bottle of ale. Good to you one minute, and an absolute disaster the day after."

𝔈𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔙𝔬𝔫 𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫

"I want to put a royal down on this dame being a con-artist. Ain't no one that pretty, that elegant, that put together without something else about them that's dangerous. By the Blade, she's here with the rest of us. One doesn't get exiled for flashing too pretty a smile. I don't trust her. She's going to stab us all in the back with a dagger made of fucking words."

"I don't know. I'd call her crazy for stepping out to the bandits and all, but I'd also call her clever. That guard that threatened her seemed more than content to let me take his weapon. This was after she kissed him. I don't know if her allure is that good, or if there's something else at play. That might explain something. It might explain her danger. While the rest of the lot, all men wouldn't you know, will probably discredit her... I'll buddy up."

ℜ𝔢𝔶𝔳𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫 ℑ𝔰𝔪𝔦𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔞 𝔙𝔞𝔢𝔤𝔦𝔯

"Slap a dress on him, and he'll be as pretty as the blonde. You wonder if I got put on the damn wrong cart, but then I look at the shit-stained dwarf. He looks capable, but that might be the stink of privilege coming off of him in droves. He probably got that scar to sweet-talk the ladies, or lords I ain't one to judge, into bed with him. When in truth, he sneezed too hard by someone else's sword. That don't mean I don't want to see him with a weapon, but I want to see him with that weapon on the horizon... filled with arrows."

"He got a stick. End of contribution."

𝔏𝔬𝔯𝔠𝔞𝔫

"Fucking ass, this one is tall! I mean, I'm used to all the other mannish folk towering over me, but never to the point that I could barely make out their head. I'd count this one as being worth his salt, but he reminds me of those buffoons in the taverns that you'd throw a coin at to perform for you. Except, he strikes me as the one you'd throw the coin at to shut the fuck up. Maybe use that big mouth of yours to eat some of our captors. Heh."

"Well, I know now if I never need to look upon a tree, I can look upon him. A clever trick that I can't say that I've seen before. Then again, I usually avoid men that look like they could blow me away with a misplaced fart. At least he tried to have a plan. Even if his stupidity nearly got everyone killed."

ℜ𝔞𝔡𝔡𝔢𝔨 𝔊𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔬𝔫

"Looks to me like this man has seen some things. Not like the lot of us haven't, but there's a particular way his eyes narrow that tells me about it. That don't mean I want to swaddle him in a blanket and call him 'sweetie.' I just seen men like 'im before. They'll freeze up when the fire gets too hot about the memory of the fire being too damn hot. As useful as a sack of potatoes and not as edible."

"My first opinion was right. I enjoy being right. He also caught me and the titular temptress from bein' sent into the sky like wingless, fat birds. I would have hated to know what Lorcan sees for a moment before becoming a sloppy meat pie on the ground. I think he means well, and he might have the only moral compass of the group. Does that mean it works? By the Blade, no. But it's better than rich boy and his stick."

𝔍𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔞

"She's short for a human. That doesn't mean I like her or anything. By the Blade, if anything that means she's trying to sidle up to the very niche market I hold for paramours. That aside, she has a studied demeanor about her that reads 'if I got paid to slit your throat, I would. Otherwise, I'm going to brood and preen my tattoos.' That might mean I don't trust her. Nah. Just means I know what she's about. I'll try not to get on the bad side of whoever gives her coin."

𝔉𝔞𝔩𝔣𝔢𝔯 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡

"Look, I didn't expect another burrahob in these parts. And I sure didn't expect one that seemed as clever as a fox and as cheerful as an unwanted body lump. He reminds me of my cousins, ready to pull the rug out from you just to have a laugh and an ale over it. Though, I can imagine that he'd have more than just a laugh. Can't say what yet... though."

"Wait a damn minute. Is he my cousin?"

𝔉𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔬 𝔡𝔢 𝔩𝔢 ℭ𝔞𝔩 𝔇𝔢𝔩𝔤𝔞𝔡𝔬

"I like a bit of salt on my half-elf steak. Back off Jaina. Go be short and cute to the rich boy. Huh. Oh. What else about Franny-boy? I don't know. He doesn't look like a barbequed stump like the rest of these louts?"

Appearance


Personality


Background



History
Lorcan was born in a place close to the eastern tip of the Caelic Isles called Droichead. It is an island whose primary function is to serve as a bridging point for the two adjacent isles which are all close together, but much, much larger than Droichead. Due to its small size, rocky soil and lack of other natural resources the settlement there had only been significant as long as there had been the opportunity to make traders pay customs. This no longer was the case when Lorcan was born, so he was somewhat destined to raise in poverty and an overall rather boring environment.

The young boy tried to make some coin by entertaining people on the streets, using a simple flute and whatever other instrument he could find and learn to play. It worked, but just barely so. One could say that after a few years on the lower end of things the young Skayleigh was an all too easy catch for everyone who could promise something exciting. Lorcan joined a roaming circus that had set up camp on the Caelic isles, but which would return into Vrettonian territory soon.

Lorcan's living standard improved somewhat while he also had the opportunity to widen his horizons in terms of culture and arts. It could have been his dwelling place still if there had not been the fancy idea of its two human owners to expand their shared business by hosting exhibition fights. Small at first, but more and more serious once they noticed how much more their audience preferred it that way. Of course they needed staff for this and found a Skayleigh to be a viable candidate: Rare, unusual, taller than everyone else and with the ability to make himself appear like a tree while riding a horse -- or a tree that could suddenly backstab passer-bys. People liked it, and the learning curve the two Vrettonian's designed for the so far completely unexperienced Lorcan was gentle enough for him not only to stay alive, but to slowly erode his hesitation to hurt other beings.

The most bloodthirsty actions would still have been to come had it been not for the event that forced Lorcan to leave the North altogether.


Reason for Exile
It was an accident! No, really... Lorcan did know that the rules for all fighters stated that it was forbidden to use long-range weaponry against opponents when there was any significant danger of it hitting the stands, but from down below he just couldn't see that damn short dwarf sitting there so quickly. He thought the area behind his opponent was empty, so he launched the throwing axe anyway.

The dwarves weren't happy. In fact the loss of one rather high-ranking individual made them so pissed that the Vrettonians escalated things towards the Skayleigh clan Lorcan belonged to. Even the clan noticed they might be better off doing something about it. Giving Lorcan a death sentence however ? Hand him over to the dwarves so they could do it ? That wasn't exactly compatible with the general consensus among the Skayleigh population that they should not fight against each other. So they made an agreement that involved a more indirect method of disposal: Send Lorcan to the south, hopefully never to be seen again.

Why Lorcan was sent on the mainland and the Blood Coast in particular is a bit of a mystery to him, but not to the Vrettonian administration: The Caelic isles are isolated by the sea already anyway, so releasing him on some remote island would not have added any additional security in terms of geography. Also the sentence for him stated 'exile', not 'death', so the Skayleigh clan had been insistent about Lorcan's destination not being so extremely wild, remote and unforgiving that leaving him there alone would effectively have equaled certain death. On the main land there's at least some kind of infrastructure remotely available to help with survival so one cannot claim that the way the exile sentence has been carried out is just an unscrupulous method of even saving the coin for a proper executioner.

Putting him together with a bunch of unknown criminals of various backgrounds is quite a bit of a gamble, but frankly Lorcan wasn't worth the effort of hiring an entirely separate escort just to spare him the experience of a mass transport.


Motivation
Lorcan has analyzed the overall situation enough to recognize that he can't go back, even if he'd be able to just walk out of the South. So far away there's no real way for him to know whether he's still a persona non grata in his corner of the North -- and he considers his life too precious a thing to just try it out.

It would be a little hard for someone who has restrained himself to harmless street entertainment to join a band of people known to be criminals, but Lorcan has gone far beyond harmless many years ago. With his activities in the arena, killing people he effectively did not know for the sake of coin, he has effectly become some sort of a mercenary anyway. Also, just like always, he hopes that it won't become too bad.




Attributes

Combat



Intelligence


Charisma



Health



Faculties



Agility



Mysticism

---

Equipment

• A long knife
• A tattered cloak
• A set of brigand's clothes
• Traveling rations for one day

Money
5 silver lordlings

Languages

---

Character Relationships

Appearance


Personality


Background


History (Optional)

Reason for Exile
Jaina had been hired by a rather influential and wealthy businessman, Haider Sherjihan, to protect him and his wares while he and his caravan travelled North to sell their exotic wares. What should have been an easy journey with only the usual dangers became much more when one of Haider’s son decided this was the right time to stage a coup. Haider wasn’t too well liked among his own, known for being strict and stingy with his family and even more so with those who worked for him. It was not hard to believe someone would wish to overthrow him and take over his business empire. Jaina however was not swayed by the money; their inner politics weren’t her affairs and she simply wished to be paid the amount that had been promised to her at the end of the journey.

There was no contest when it was the entire caravan versus two people. Jaina was a skilled fighter, but there was no way she could take on over ten people and keep the businessman alive and well. In the end, she was able to escape with her life, continuing her way back to the city. It wasn’t long before she was accused of murdering Haider, and overnight she left, leaving behind her family, not wishing for them to be blamed and targeted because of her. Word spread that if she returned she was to be killed on sight, and those who aided her would suffer severe consequences.

News however travels fast, and soon enough Jaina found herself once more being accused of a murder she hadn't actually committed. Since there was no actual proof of what had happened, it was decided that she would not be jailed or executed, but she was however banished from staying in the North.

Motivation
Jaina can't go back to her family nor can she stay in the north, not unless she wants to lose her life or the ones of people she actually cares about. Knowing only the life of a mercenary, there isn't much else she can think of perusing now with options closing off to her because of a false accusation. At least with like minded people, she knows where she stands.



Attributes

Combat



Intelligence



Charisma



Health



Faculties



Agility



Mysticism [0/1]

---

Equipment


Money


Languages

---

Character Relationships

Appearance


Personality


Background


History



Reason for Exile
Wholesale Corruption, Embezzlement, Tax Evasion. Bank Fraud, Money Laundering, Loansharking, twenty-eight separate accounts of bribery, three counts of forgery, and over a hundred counts of organized crime including theft.

Motivation
The simple answer is money. One good take is all Silverhand needs to slink away into the background to live a life of luxurious decadence, or perhaps he is too greedy for even that. But he just needs one last job.



Attributes
Combat



Intelligence



Charisma



Health



Faculties



Agility



Mysticism [0/1]

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Equipment


Money


Languages

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Character Relationships

Your characters have only known one another for the week it has taken to move your wagon through the Inner Kingdoms, with only a marginal time to speak. This is where you put your initial thoughts of each character, and you edit these as their opinions change. This also includes the Merc NPC.

Appearance


Personality


Background


History
Francisco doesn't actually have any idea where he was born. His mother was an elven whore who "worked" a brothel somewhere along a coastline he can't remember. His father, and he is assuming much of this, was a Dra Costa sailor, which accounts for his olive coloured skin and ability to get one hell of a tan.

He was born in the brothel and immediately left on the doorstep of a nearby mission, just another bastard in a world full of them. He was raised by Monks and Nuns and earned his keep pulling apart the tarred ropes used by ships when they discarded them. The pieces would be resold and the harder a child worked, the more food they ate. Needless to say, Francisco was not a hard worker and the lack of nutrition likely stunted his growth.

He never learned to read more than basic words, can't write to save his life, but, my friend, let me tell you, this lad has a gift for tongues. Living in a port town brought folk from all across the realms and he quickly picked up bits and pieces until he could speak nearly any major language with something approaching guttural fluency. His cheeky humour and quick wit made him a keen favourite with sailors arriving in port and looking for someone to show them around. That was how his adventures started.

He went to sea at the fragile age of twenty and spent the next forty five years plying the waves. He's been promoted to mate three times, and been demoted just as many. His time before the mast has made him an excellent sailor, a skilled blade master, and a gutter fighter. The fancy bit of his name, de le Cal Delgado, he took from the manifest of a ship he was sailing upon and has used it on more than one occasion to pose as a Dre Costa nobleman. He has known little else since then and his tales are many, should you dare to ask.

Reason for Exile
Bastards have no home and therefore cannot suffer exile.

Motivation
Francisco has been surviving, just surviving. He refuses to lie down and die, but is as lost as a rudderless ship, blowing this way and that with the winds of fate.



Attributes
You've 9 to choose from. Once you do, put them in the correct area.
Combat



Intelligence



Charisma



Health



Faculties



Agility



Mysticism [0/1]

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Equipment


Money


Languages (Speak only)

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Character Relationships

Your characters have only known one another for the week it has taken to move your wagon through the Inner Kingdoms, with only a marginal time to speak. This is where you put your initial thoughts of each character, and you edit these as their opinions change. This also includes the Merc NPC.

Appearance


Personality


Background


History



Reason for Exile
To save her great granddaughter from beheading, Lupita offered herself to clean the slate. The offended nobles exiled her to the blood coast.

Motivation
At this point? Survival. Lupita would like to eventually return to her family but she is unsure if that is even possible. Regardless, she’s survived assassins and the perils of dealing with nobility. And negotiated her and her grand daughter out of a beheading. The blood coast won’t take her. Not without a fight.



Attributes
You've 9 to choose from. Once you do, put them in the correct area.
Combat



Intelligence



Charisma



Health



Faculties



Agility



Mysticism [0/1]

---

Equipment


Money


Languages

---

Character Relationships

Your characters have only known one another for the week it has taken to move your wagon through the Inner Kingdoms, with only a marginal time to speak. This is where you put your initial thoughts of each character, and you edit these as their opinions change. This also includes the Merc NPC.