DrowsyPangolin

Tower of Prospect

As his brother spoke his name, Aldric's faced curled into a slight smile. It was Gideon, he'd known it as soon as he laid eyes on the man. He looked him over. "I hadn't made plans to either." He tried to laugh slightly, but he was obviously still a bit in shock. "I'd heard the rebels took the Capital and the royal family, I thought the worst." His eyes fell to the ground for a moment. He remembered the day he had heard that news vividly. He had cursed himself for abandoning the empire, for leaving his brother to fight alone. One man wouldn't have made much of a difference in the grand scheme of things, but he still had beaten himself up quite a bit over it. He frowned a bit when Gideon mentioned the fate of his company. He hadn't heard what had happened after he left, though he'd imagined the majority of them hadn't made it through the war. Part of him thought they got what they deserved, but he couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness. They had been his brothers-in-arms before that night, even if what they did stained their reputations in his eyes. He was pulled from his thoughts by his brother's acknowledgement of his companions. "Oh, I actually just met them as we were leaving the ship. We seemed to be heading to the same place." He glanced nervously back to his brother, wondering what exactly the man that now stood before him would think of his desertion. "We have quite a bit of catching up to do." A thousand thoughts raced through the young man's mind. On one hand, his brother was alive and well, despite all odds, on the other, however, he was a deserter, and Gideon had been the Captain of the Guard.

Tower of Prospect

Aldric smiled slightly when both Bast and Johnathon stated that they, too, were heading to the Containment Corps as well. "I guess that's where I'm heading too. I heard some... interesting things about this forest. I'm curious to see how many of them are true. If the things about the tower are true, I guess that's just an added bonus." He chuckled to himself. "It'll be better if we have a group, I suppose. Assuming you both are considering actually going into the fo-" Aldric felt someone bump against him. He turned quickly to look towards the person. His eyes widened as the man passed by him. He had shaken off his original suspicions, but seeing the man again he knew for sure. He froze in place for a moment, just watching the man walk past them. The color drained from his face, as if he had just seen a ghost. He took a step forward, following the man. He opened his mouth, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before he spoke. "...Gideon? Is that you, brother?" Aldric was shocked, and his voice shook slightly as he spoke.

Tower of Prospect

It seemed Bast's fall had thankfully not caused her any major damage. As soon as Aldric had asked his question, however, she had bolted off of the ship, evidently tired of the seafaring life. The young man chuckled to himself and walked with Johnathon towards the gangplank. It seemed the young man knew a bit about medicine. A medic was always a valuable asset. Aldric replied, with a smile. "Oh, most definitely. Especially if this forest is even nearly as dangerous as they-" A man brushed by them on the gangplank, evidently making his way onto the ship. Aldric froze in place, halfway down the gangplank, eyes wide. No, it couldn't be, there was no way. For a moment the young man glanced back over his shoulder before shaking his head and continuing. "Sorry about that... right, but if this forest is like they say I'm sure you'll be patching up plenty of would-be adventurers." He chuckled, though there was clearly an uneasiness in him now. Bast seemed thrilled to have escaped the Jubilance back to the safety of dry land. For a brief moment Aldric considered making a comment about cats and their distaste for swimming, but decided against it. "I don't blame you, staying on a ship too long will drive anyone mad, I don't see how the sailors manage."He chuckled. "So, Bast, where are you headed from here?"

Tower of Prospect

Aldric watched as the Neko managed her way to a standing position. She thanked him and introduced herself as Bast. Their other shipmate, the young man with the bag, had introduced himself as Johnathon. Aldric smiled, nodding to each of them. "A pleasure to meet you both." He turned towards the young man with the bag. "Yeah, it took long enough didn't it?" He chuckled. "Well, looks like everyone else is raring to go." He motioned towards the group rushing down the gangplank. Indeed, it seemed the majority of their shipmates were departing quite speedily. "So, where are you two headed from here?" He didn't like the idea of heading out alone, though most of his recent life had consisted of lonely journeys. A change of pace would be nice. Johnathon had offered Bast some medical supplies, though it didn't seem like her fall had hurt her all that much. He was still interested in her origins, but he had adjusted to her appearance fairly quickly. He walked slowly towards the gangplank, expecting the two of them to depart with him.

Tower of Prospect

Aldric had continued scanning the ship for a few moments until his gaze met a pair of bright green eyes beneath a hood. For a moment, he considered approaching the stranger, until the ship dipped in the waves, sending her toppling to the ground. As her hood fell, the young man was a bit taken aback. The person before him had features like a cat. He had never seen anyone like her, that was for sure. He looked on with a puzzled gaze for a few moments before overcoming his shock. Cat or no, there was no sense in ignoring common courtesy. Aldric approached the Neko and outstretched a hand. "Need some help there?" Aldric gave a slight chuckle as he extended his hand. It seemed whatever she was, she didn't have her sea legs.

Only a moment after that thought crossed his mind, help felt the Jubilance lurch underneath him, forcing him to brace himself to maintain balance. It seemed they'd arrived in Pomria at last. As he reached out, he noticed a boyish-looking young man approaching from the side, seemingly coming to offer help to their fallen compatriot as well. Aldric glanced towards him for a moment as the ship came creaking to a stop. He looked over the man. Patchwork clothing and what seemed to be a doctor's bag weren't usually the tell-tale signs of a great adventurer, but first impressions weren't always correct. "Hi there, I'm Aldric." He smiled. "Oh, and to you, too." He nodded towards Bast.

Tower of Prospect

Aldric stood near the bow of the Jubilance, leaning slightly over the railing. His eyes were affixed on the nearing dock. He'd heard many tales about Pomria as of late, stories of an unearthly forest spreading across the land, and of a tower supposedly filled with untold treasures. He glanced around behind him at the crowded ship. No doubt the others around him had been brought here by the same stories. He had little idea of what this journey would actually lead him to, but such thoughts didn't concern him too much. The young man's musings were cut to an end by the soldier calling them all to attention. She mentioned that they should go to Office of the Containment Corps. He logged the name in his mind, as he would certainly be making his way there after they docked. he had no doubt the majority of the other passengers would likely be heading the same way. A thirst for adventure tended to do that to people. As the woman finished speaking, he again turned towards the dock, watching as it grew closer and closer. The woman had told them all to make ready, but he had few personal belongings other than what he carried on his person. He brought one hand to the shaft of the hammer that hung on his back. They'd be arriving soon, and he'd learn just what this new chapter in his life would bring.

The young man looked over his shoulder, his eyes glancing around the other passengers. He hadn't become acquainted with too many of them outside of small talk, something he now regretted. From what he'd heard, their journey could be a dangerous one, and it wasn't something one man could do on his own. He noticed several of his shipmates grouping up, and his eyes began flashing around the group, hoping to see someone who felt as lost as he did in the current situation.

Tower of Prospect

Yeah, let's do this!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tower of Prospect

Name: Aldric Alabaster

Age: 22

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance/Clothing: Aldric is somewhat tall, standing just over six feet in height. His build is sturdy, though not quite bulky. He has wide shoulders and hard muscles, giving him an appearance of considerable strength. He has a mop of reddish-brown hair that hangs nearly to his shoulders. His skin is slightly tanned, though not overly so. He has blue-grey eyes and strong facial features. His chin bears a light stubble, giving him the rugged appearance of a wanderer. He has a scar running across his left eye.

Aldric wears a long coat made of a deep blue fabric. The cloth seems coarse and inexpensive, durable, but probably not the most comfortable of garments. He also wears a pair of soft leather gloves that reach just beyond his wrists. Beneath his cloak, Aldric wears a vest made of hard leather lined with chainmail. The armor provides modest protection, though it doesn't compare to the heavy plate he once wore. Beneath the vest, he wears a simple loose-fitting white shirt with numerous tears and stains throughout. His trousers are made of black fabric and he wears a pair of tough leather boots. A belt at his waist carries the sheath for his sword. A thick leather strap with a loop on it is usually strung around his chest to carry his hammer.

Weapons/Belongings: Aldric's primary weapon is a large warhammer. He took a liking to the weapon's simple but effective nature when he first began his excursion into the military world. The hammer is quite hefty, requiring great physical determination to use effectively. Shaft and all, it is about four feet long. The handle of the weapon is made from oak overlaid with copper tracings of vines and leaves. The head of the weapon is roughly twice the size of a man's fist and is made of steel. One end of the head is flat, and used for bludgeoning an opponent, while the opposite end tapers into a sharp point, with it's primary use being the piercing of armor. An image of a roaring lion is engraved on the side of the head. Various scratches and dings mar the weapon's face, but the engraving has been kept in surprisingly good shape.

Aldric's only other weapon is a short sword about two and a half feet in length. It has a thick double-edged blade that is kept relatively sharp. The edges bear numerous knicks and dings, as Aldric has a tendency to use it for utility as well as combat. The weapon has a hilt of oak with a simple crossguard made of tarnished copper. The pommel of the weapon is an orb of copper.

Personality: Aldric is generally quite kind to those he meets, perhaps a small step in his quest for redemption. He is passionate and guided mostly by his own personal convictions, a trait that presented great difficulty for his commanders. He is a brave man, and was often known for diving into unfavorable situations with no fear about the outcome. He is strong-willed and unwavering, and rarely backs down from a challenge or argument. Despite his nature, there is a certain amount of unrest in the young man. It is obvious to anyone who has spent time with him that the young man carries a great burden, a burden that he seems to be striving to escape with all of his might. His goal seems to be to make amends for the wrongs he has committed in his life. The desire to cleanse his regrets is what drives him to keep going.

History: Aldric was the youngest child of the Alabaster family. His older brother, Gideon, was always groomed for the military life, and he constantly strove to be his brothers equal. The two were not often around one another, and while Gideon was carefully groomed towards his position, Aldric joined the ranks of the Golden Empire's infantry. He became known to his commanders for his ferocity in combat, gaining him the nickname of 'Lion's Maw'. He fought hard, driven by his desire to prove himself to his family and become his brother's equal. He eventually moved his way through the military, joining the ranks of the Royal Guard, which his brother now commanded, at a young age. He had little time to celebrate his new position, however, because revolution overtook the Golden Empire shortly thereafter. As a lower-ranking member of the Guard, he was dispatched, along with some of his brothers-in-arms, to quell the fledgling rebellion before it could gain traction. He was sent to the village of Troz with the mission of finding and routing any rebels in the area. The events that followed changed the young man's life forever. He arrived with his comrades in Troz, but to his surprise, the village seemed rather ordinary, filled only with townspeople going about their business. The men set up camp in the village, seeing little in the way of rebellion. That night, however, an infantry captain that had been dispatched with them was murdered just outside of the village. The men around Aldric were enraged at the attack on one of their own, and took their vengeance on the village. Civilians were slaughtered en masse as retribution. Aldric, having fought for glory all his life, was horrified by the dishonorable conduct of the soldiers around him. Disillusioned with his position, he fled the scene, and the Golden Empire as a whole. He began traveling, seeking a way to make amends for the atrocities that had occurred in Troz.

The Tower of Prospect

Name: Crom Vastil

Age: 36

Gender: Male

Appearance: Crom's overall appearance is a bit haggard, a far cry from the triumphant knight that once bore his name. He's relatively tall, standing a few inches over six feet in height, and has a strong, muscular frame with broad shoulders. His skin is neither exceptionally tan nor pale, and is littered with a number of scars from years of military service. His eyes are a light blue-grey, and seem to carry a certain disillusionment behind them, despite his generally warm demeanor. His hair is sandy blonde and somewhat unkempt, nearly reaching his shoulders. A few streaks of grey line the mop, signs of intense stress over the years. He has strong facial features, and he nearly always has a slight stubble.

Crom's clothing is appropriate for a wanderer, and it shows the wear of his travels. He wears a long duster made of a tough dark brown leather, sporting tattered edges and a number of holes from lack of maintenance. The coat fastens with three buttons at his mid torso. Beneath the duster, he wears a soft, white, long-sleeved shirt that bears a number of stains. Over the shirt he wears a thick vest of woven black fabric. The vest fastens with a row of tarnished silver buttons running up its center At his waist is a belt of black leather that carries the sheathe for his sword, as well as his flask and a few other items of importance. His pants are made of a tough black fabric and are tucked into a pair of rugged boots, obviously meant to stand up to the rigors of constant travel. The leather they are crafted from seems battered, but still sturdy enough.

Crom often wears a wide-brimmed hat made of brown felt. The hat has a few cuts in the edges of it's brim and has a sea-green feather tucked in the band. Like the rest of his clothing, the hat obviously has seen quite a bit of abuse, though it still holds its form.

Weapons/Belongings: Crom's primary weapon is the only memento left from his time as the Captain of Esterl's Royal Guard. Every knight of Esterl has a personal blade fashioned in their honor. Crom's sword, Kingfisher, is an excellent example of the pride Esterlian blacksmiths take in their work. It is a bit longer than the average longsword, but the blade is extremely thin, only slightly wider than a rapier. Despite this, both edges are razor sharp, though it still is primarily a thrusting weapon. The blade is made of tempered Esterlian steel, forged through a process known only to the blacksmiths of the island nation. The weapon has a sweeping guard that partially covers the user's hand. The guard is made of silver, that Crom keeps polished despite the disrepair of his other belongings. The guard bears an engraving of a bird with a serpent hanging from it's mouth. The hilt of the weapon is made of what seems to be whalebone, and has a smooth, polished surface. The pommel of the weapon has a small sapphire set in it's base.

The sheathe of the weapon is made of a light wood, ornamented with silver and whalebone. A small silver plate near the mouth of the scabbard bears the same insignia as Kingfisher's guard. Crom's only other weapon is a small dagger with a double-edged blade roughly seven inches in length. The hilt is made of a dark wood, with a crossguard made of silver. The pommel is a small orb made of the same silver.

Outside of his weapons and clothing, Crom's personal items are few and far between. He keeps a large flask fastened at his hip, a vessel that is almost always filled with the most foul-smelling and intoxicating beverages imaginable. The flask is simple in appearance, seemingly made of brass, though the metal has faced quite a bit of tarnish. It is sealed with a cork.

Crom also carries a silver locket with him. The necklace seems to have been crafted by masterful hands, and appears to be very expensive. The exterior is engraved with a insignia resembling a flame, and the interior bears a portrait of a young woman. Crom keeps the locket hidden away, and is quiet about it's origins.

Personality: Crom, in general, seems quite friendly, if a bit gruff. He is not quick to judge others, and tends to make friends wherever he goes. He drinks almost constantly, keeping multiple flasks of the most intoxicating drinks on him at any given time. Despite his constant alcohol consumption, he rarely actually appears drunk, probably a side effect of how long his habit has persisted. Beneath the surface, Crom hides the image of a broken man, a disillusioned soldier who has lost everything he ever had. There is a deep-rooted depression that dwells within the former Captain, a sadness that he keeps tucked deep beneath his amiable exterior. If a situation comes to blows, Crom's extensive military training becomes prevalent. He fights with a combination of near unparalleled swordsmanship and barfight brutality. Opponents are usually shocked by the mixture of finesse and brute force. Crom does not particularly like taking lives, but will if the need arises.

History: Crom was once the Captain of the Royal Guard in Esterl, an island nation to the north. He outperformed his peers in nearly every facet of combat, and gained many distinguished honors as a soldier before his ascension to the Royal Guard. All this prestige fell apart however, when his personal failings led to the assassination of the nation's royal family. Crom was exiled for his blunder, and stripped of all rank and property. His honor broken beyond repair, the swordsman became a wandering vagrant, taking odd mercenary jobs when he could find them and developing a taste for strong drink. His travels eventually led him to Pomria. What exactly he seeks in the jungle is unknown, perhaps even to the man himself. Maybe he seeks some kind of redemption, perhaps an adventure to distract him from his failures, or perhaps he just seeks a place to die.

When the Flames Die

Gareth was correct, getting any information out of the order would be quite difficult, if not impossible. Still, it was what they had to do. Perhaps a few answers could be found within the multitude of arguing nobles in the Great Hall. The princess followed the squire towards their destination. She shook her head. It seemed they were destined for another long and stressful day, though hopefully one fraught with a bit less tragedy than the one that had proceeded it. She followed Gareth without a word, walking side by side with Feril. "So who was it that let you go?" She was curious as to what the circumstances regarding the courier's release had been, as she had escaped during the chaos of the previous day. Somehow she doubted Thomas had just let her go. The girl adjusted the helmet she had been carrying under her arm.

Eva brought up the rear of the group, pondering over the current situation. The Order was holed up in their tower, a multitude of distraught nobles were bickering in the Great Hall, and the regent was locked in some dungeon no one really knew anything about. For that matter, the king was missing as well. It seemed everyone was in the dark as much as they were. The handmaiden pondered over exactly what they would find out from the crowd in the hall. Her eyes fell to the princess, noting that she still carried Jezin's helmet. She frowned. She had to take up the man's position as her guardian. She had to keep her safe, it was her duty.