Name: Odran Stormweaver
Age: 122
Gender: Male
Race: Dwarf
Rank: Steel
Appearance:
Odran is a stout and sturdily built dwarf, with a bold stance and an intimidating disposition for one so short. Forged by wine, battle, and song, Odran's thick trunk of a body belies a surprising amount of deft and dexterity. Standing at a height of 4'8", he often stands no higher than the chest of other mortal beings, but is rather tall for a dwarf. His face is adorned with a dense, rough beard, and the dark brown hair over his head is pulled into thick dreadlocks. Upon his face sits a wide, fat nose, with a crooked angle from many a fistfight, and sharp eyes of the color of steel. His face is often adorned with a wry grin, and covered with scars from battles past.

Personality:
An earnest, easygoing soul- for the most part. Like many a dwarf of Khal'Darazdrim, Odran is prone to bouts of stubbornness, but is generally a personable fellow who prefers ale and song to politics and trickery. While straightforward and honest, Odran isn't one for arguing and is more likely to accept whatever is happening with a resigned sigh than he is to get up in arms about it. He has a rather dwarven appreciation for good craftsmanship and enjoys tinkering with equipment, be it his own or others'.

While Odran is friendly, and quick to throw the title of comrade around, it isn't until another's character has been demonstrated does Odran truly begin showing trust. Odran will make observations of those surrounding him, even whilst he makes jokes and exchanges story and drink. Odran is honorable and relatively unselfish, though if given the choice, he would prefer him and his own success over others. Despite his affable nature, Odran knows how to act when its time to get serious. When Odran fights, he does so with a patient and calm efficiency.

Brief Backstory:
A career soldier, scout and marksman, Odran was born to the Stormweaver clan, a crafts-clan of some repute, hailing from Khal'Darazdrim and fairly well known throughout Estival for their weapons and armor, with many aspiring warriors seeking pieces of armor or weapons crafted by his family. While most took up the family trades, Odran instead went about a different way to seek his fortune. Some took to trade, others took to craftsmanship. Odran took to the sciences- the military sciences, to be precise. Odran joined the ranks of the Khal'Darazdrim clan warriors, here he would earn his keep through blood and sweat. The clan warriors were divided into companies, each with their own storied past.

Odran joined the Ironborn Free Company as a Ranger Scout in its service fighting against the infestations of goblins and mountain orcs that sought to plunder the wealth of Khal'Darazdrim. With his technical prowess and reliability, Odran advanced steadily through the ranks, becoming a trusted sub-leader of his squad commander by the end of his first campaign across the mountains. By the end of his fourth campaign, Odran was given command of his own squad, and by the end of his seventh campaign, he was the designated Lead Scout of the Ironborn Company, and a notable veteran in his own right.

At some point in his nineties, Odran would get married and have a child. Taking his leave from his home city's clan warriors, Odran would find himself relocating to heart of Estival. Ironically, Odran found work with the Adventurer's guild to be more congruent to his needs as a family man- taking which contracts he wanted be they easy or hard, long or short, no extended deployments into the mountains, and a decent amount more coin. He's been working on and off with the Estival Adventurer's Guild for the better part of 30 years now.

Equipment:
Odran wears a combination of thick padded cloth, and a scale mail hauberk underneath a hardened carapace of leather plates, allowing him to stay relatively mobile while not shirking on his defenses.

He travels like a pack mule, with a large rucksack carrying practically everything he needs: flint and steel, rations, rope, a grappling hook, a small knife, a pipe and tobacco, materials for fashioning additional bolts, tools for tinkering, carving and runecrafting. On his belt is a large quiver filled with runecarved bolts. His prized possession is an enchanted bottle that continuously fills with coffee- a gift from his wife for their 30th anniversary.

Odran's primary weapon is the humble, yet reliable crossbow, reinforced and well maintained, with a lug at the front for affixing a bayonet. At his side he carries a simple but sturdy bearded axe with fire runes carved into it and a large dagger that doubles as a bayonet. He often carries a wooden pavise with him, planting it down at predetermined firing positions to give himself cover.

Skills:
While proficient with a variety of weapons, armor and tactics, Odran finds himself most at home sitting inside a suit of heavy armor, and either firing his crossbow from a fixed position or charging into an enemy's flank with a bayonet and axe. His crossbow bolts are often carved with runes to produce a variety of effects, from elemental imbuements to binding charms, to scattershot and glow bolts. He'll also dip the bolts in poison if the situation necessitates it.

Though his smithing days are long behind him, Odran fancies himself a tinkerer, and constantly works on and maintains equipment, be it his own or others. He primarily uses his skills to carve runes onto his bolts, and his hands are rather dexterous and deft because of it.

He's recently taken to woodcarving as a hobby.

Name: Richter Chevalier
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Rank: Iron
Appearance:
Standing at 5’10”, Richter constantly maintains a dignified posture scarcely ever even allowing his shoulders to slouch. His golden blond hair is kept short, falling just below his icy blue eyes often giving a soft or gentle smile. Speaking of, Richter’s clean shaven face is the only bit of his pale skin visible as the rest is covered in armor draped in the blue and white of Mayon. If the religious garb didn’t give it away, the large rose resting against a crescent moon embroidered on his cloak would certainly confirm Richter’s beliefs. That or the moon rose amulet always hanging from his neck.

Personality:
A holy stick in the mud, Richter is a man of focus and determination. When there is a job to do, Richter will see to it that it is done properly and within the guidelines of the guild. Anyone who steps out of line can expect a lecture waiting for them. Though it will be very calm and composed as he is never one to get angry, just disappointed. This by the book approach may give the impression he is married to the rules, but the truth is far from. Each mission, the guild, even Mayon herself fall short of first on his priorities. For Richter, the safety and well being of his team come before all. Simply put; Richter only enforces the rules as he has found following them is the best way to keep everyone alive.

In downtime or off duty, Richter is still a bit overprotective. Attentive to everyone’s needs, he takes it upon himself to ensure the party is at full strength in body and mind. He means well of course, but recognizes he can overstep in this regard. Should anyone express discomfort he will immediately rein it in. Regardless, in moments where everyone is taken care of and there are no pressing matters, Richter is capable of relaxing. Rumor has it he’s been known to laugh at a joke before. And on the rarest occasions attempt one himself. Maybe someday he'll actually tell a good one.

Brief Backstory:
The son of two gold ranked adventurers, Richter spent his childhood in the lap of luxury. Their status and success had allowed the Chevalier family to give their son many advantages. They could even afford to open their doors to much of their extended family who often acted as caretakers for Richter as his parents were frequently out on guild business. When he wasn’t studying with his personal tutors, Richter would run through the halls of their Venne manor fantasising of the adventures he’d have. Of the day when he could follow in his parent’s footsteps and join the guild to become a great adventurer himself. It was a very comfortable life. One Richter could have become spoiled rotten by. Until his 15th winter, when guild emissaries showed up at the door to inform him that his parents had taken a contract that they had not returned from. After weeks of searching, the guild formally declared them dead.

Hell broke loose at the Chevalier manor. The once tight-knit family broke into a vicious feud over custody of Richter. Not out of familial bond, but because whoever became his legal guardian would gain ownership of his parent’s fortune and assets until he was of age. Each desired control and would stop at nothing to get it. All the while, Richter was still trying to process the loss. Idols he once thought invincible now gone from his life forever. His desire to become an adventurer was crushed by the sorrow. And the people he once leaned on for support were now trapped in never ending shouting matches without a single care for his wellbeing. It wasn’t just his parents he had lost, but his entire family.

Unable to bear the pain and loneliness anymore, Richter ran away. He had no idea where he was going, nor did he care where he would end up. What difference would it make being lost in the city when he was lost at home? Or lost in life for that matter? Was there any place for him? Any path forward? Questions consumed his mind. Desperate for answers it seemed none could give, he wandered the city streets aimlessly. It was then on one clear night, Richter looked to the stars. His eyes fixed upon the full moon, and suddenly his mind was cleared. The dark thoughts, the unyielding hopelessness, all of it melted away. For the first time in months, Richter felt at peace. Without thinking, he began walking. His feet moved as if someone else was controlling him, yet he did not resist. He had an inkling of where they were taking him, and in time he would find himself standing in front of the Venne Chapel of Mayon.

Only loosely familiar with the goddesses during his upbringing, Richter found himself enthralled by their teachings. The words of Mayon in particular spoke to him. Her belief in overcoming evil through protection of good. Offering care and guidance of those in need. These lessons reached into Richter’s heart and reignited his determination. He would become an adventurer afterall, but not for the gold and glory he once sought, but to safeguard those who walked that path. Within the walls of the chapel kneeling before the clergy, Richter swore an oath to Mayon and formally began training as one of her paladins.

Eight years have passed since that day. Richter now serves as both a paladin of Mayon and member of the Adventurer's guild. Though he has yet to break out of iron rank, he is not dismayed. He eagerly continues to take on new quests hoping one day he will prove himself worthy of steel, or maybe even higher.

Equipment:

• Scale mail: Metal scales sewn onto a reinforced leather backing. Richter’s mail consists of a scale shirt and gauntlets.
• Mayon cloak: A large fur lined cloak that can cover Richter’s entire body. Despite its size, the cloak is blessed to weigh very little and offer protection from all weather. Be it a harsh winter night or a pleasant sunny afternoon, Richter is perfectly content.
• Kite shield and mace: At first glance, they appear to be an ordinary steel shield and mace. Upon further inspection, they are confirmed to be an ordinary shield and mace. He swears he'll get them enchanted one day.
• Holy symbol: A silver moon with an ornate blooming rose etched into the metal hangs from Richter's neck at all times. It never leaves his person for any reason.
• Travel Bag: Filled with basic gear needed for long distance travel. Thanks to his cloak, Richter has no need for a tent or bedroll, giving him more room to carry extra supplies as needed.

Skills:
As a full fledged paladin, Richter is trained in both martial and magical arts, though his true forte lies in divine magic. He is an expert at healing and restoration, able to cure nearly any injury or illness save for a few extreme exceptions. Additionally, he has a vast knowledge of spells meant to prevent such injuries altogether! Protections, wards, utility spells, even a couple of offensive spells. Anything to offer comfort to those in his care, and make those of an evil nature think twice before confronting a party with Richter in it. Last but certainly not least, Richter’s mace and shield aren’t for decoration. Should divine magic fail or some pesky foe get too close, Richter is more than capable of holding his own in physical combat.