Eisenhorn

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Rolan

---

Rolan had, in his wanderings of the various stalls and merchants, picked up a few miscellaneous items that caught his own interest. Some foreign dish he was not familiar with, though the heat it had was a surprisingly intriguing way to bring out the rest of the dish's flavor. He had also collected a few trinkets and a book on alchemical principles and recipes he had not seen in the collection back at the Caendeln library. No promises that it would be anything useful as far as actual recipes, but he might glean something useful from the discussion At worst, it was not terribly expensive so it was a safe bet to make. He was still making his way about the tournament grounds, familiarizing himself with the layout in total just in case. Old habits, and all that, but he did spot a familiar face in his wanderings.

Ser Renar, by Rolan's estimate barely having left his tent, was already being badgered by some Hundi girl. Similar height to the Captain, pink hair, polished but cared for plate, another person seeking fame and glory at the tournament. Not that he could readily judge, given he was also here, at the Captain's command, to participate as well. Now, whether or not the hundi was already issuing some sort of challenge or not was....well, not likely, Ser Renar did not look like he was fielding a challenge going off expressions that he could see. Rolan considered simply taking up a discreet position nearby, and observe, but that was not strictly beneficial to anyone involved. Besides, he could at least check in with Ser Renar, and if the man wanted the out of dealing with the hundi, he could come up with something and Rolan could play along easily enough.

"Apologies for the interruption Lady....Beaux, was it? Ser Renar, any word from the others yet? I imagine the Captain might want to speak with us collectively before the Tournament begins proper."

@Psyker Landshark

Sword and Dungeon: An Adventurer's Guild-based Fantasy RP

Abigail Blackthorn

---

"Are any of you planning to take jobs? If not, please let the rest of us at the board,"

Liliane

Abigail blinked, glancing back at the accented voice from somewhere behind her. Hundi, the one footing bills at the bar, asking if anyone not taking jobs would please move. Polite, really, like that had worked for the kid paladin being hoisted and coiled by the Lamia. Add in the crowd starting to thin, Guild staff working to clean and organize things, and that pretty much made it easy enough to get in even if she was in would happen to not be in a position to shove her way in. She could though, and figured she might as well do a good turn in return for the free drinks and food. She made her way through, grabbing a handful of jobs that, at least at a cursory glance, did not look mind numbingly boring at first pass. Stepping back past the Hundi, she commented lazily as she made her way back towards the bar.

"Just grabbed my handful, feel free to give 'em a look back at the bar if you want."

Abigail did not really wait up for the Hundi to keep up, beelining for her seat at the bar, well, an open seat since her original one was taken already. Fortunately someone else vacated a spot, and Abigail sat down and spread out the job listings she grabbed to start reviewing what stood out as worth doing. Naturally, she was also already flagging the bartender down to get another drink but, well, that was as commonplace as the sun rising in the morning. As she reviewed the jobs in question, she made no effort to hide or be discreet about it, muttering her thoughts on each as she reviewed them.

@Raineh Daze

Sword and Dungeon: An Adventurer's Guild-based Fantasy RP

Abigail Blackthorn

---

Abigail smirked as Magnus roared with laughter at her remark, not bothering to deny it at all. He was honest about it, and she could respect that if nothing else. She basically crashed wherever was cheapest between jobs, or with whoever she could talk into loaning her a bed for the night. Sometimes those from the previous group were willing to spot her a room or a bed for a few nights before they moved onto their new jobs, so she took advantage when she could. That being said, seemed Magnus had an idea on what was going on, Liliane deciding the little lady could go on proper missions now.

"That explains the cuddliness and open bar. Ditching the fucking rat catcher jobs is always worth celebrating."

Abigail had come up through copper rank, same as most adventurers, and knew damn well just how mind numbingly tedious it could be. She had gotten both the mindless labor and pest control jobs, alongside the probationary escort details to make sure they actually got done. Goddesses did she fucking loathe those days, a stark warning that life was not going to be like she had expected from all the stories. Not that she particularly blamed folks for telling stories that were fond memories instead of the drudgery of catching rats.

It had not even been until Iron that Abigail got to really put her axe to good use, fighting use, though those were stories for another day. Grabbing the next drink slid her way, she took a swig as she considered the continued goings on around her. Kid playing at paladin was huffy over being mistaken for a kid, and had the temper to make people get nervous enough to be worried about ill placed violence. Not that it took long for someone else to, well, slither in since it was the resident Lamia moving in next, the comment on not drinking the guild into bankruptcy got a shrug.

"Not enough of a crowd to make a go for the record on booze downed in one night, guild is safe another day."

Watching the Lamia, what was her name.....Hefty? No, no, that was rude, Hysteria? No, wrong demeanor. Hyselia? That was probably it, at least it was not a mistake with another word at least. Either way, watching Hyselia lift the kid paladin up off the ground got a chuckle into her mug as she took another swig, watching as some roguish looking woman try to play at mediator. Neat, voice of reason, which was boring but, well, neat at least. More rational voices stepped in to try and diffuse the situation, getting more idle commentary from Abigail as she finished off her current mug.

"Wonder if I should start a betting pool for how long until the kid starts throwing a temper tantrum over her dignity as a holy warrior being belittled or....whatever it is paladins bemoan today."

Still, given the continuing chaos Abigail might want to at least try to make a go at the board since the first wave was bound to be working away from the board before too long. Putting the mug down, she stood, rolling her neck back and forth, glancing at Magnus before she started moving too quickly. It gave her a chance to test her balance too, not too bad fortunately, she would manage just fine.

"Have another few for me, would you? Going to see if I can't snatch something that should have a good fight or two in it."

Goddesses, was Abigail actually learning to be responsible? Not really, she knew she was going to have to find work again soon and, well, given that postings would get snatched up quickly, she might as well work her way through the flanks of the board and see if anything stood out that would have good fights. Once she locked down a job, she could get back to drinking until the bar was closed, and the flanks she could shoulder through if she had to.

Sword and Dungeon: An Adventurer's Guild-based Fantasy RP

Abigail Blackthorn

---

"I swear you live within earshot of this bar, you always beat me here when someone else is footing the bill."

Abigail commented while waiting for her next drink, fingers tapping impatiently on the counter of the bar as Magnus slammed back yet another drink. The Ingvarr being able to put mug after mug of beer down without missing a beat did not surprise her, hell, if he was incapable of doing so, that would have been the surprise. What always stood out was how the man seemed to always be here before anyone else, doubly so whenever free food and drink was being shelled out for again. Abigail always kept an ear out for whenever some celebration or another was going on, at least when she was already here drinking her latest earnings away, since that basically meant yet another day she could drink without cutting into her funds. Hell, if it happened enough she might actually be convinced to spend her coin on something more tangible for once. Maybe.

Pragmatically, despite the fact that the latest batch of new jobs were officially posted, it was pointless rushing the board. It was an absolute crush, and while Abigail could muscle her way past with the best of them, she couldn't be bothered to. A lot of the postings were team efforts, and she had learned from experience that the enthusiastic ones would grab a bunch to check, and inevitably would need an extra pair of hands. Then she chimes in if she is in need of coin, and just like that, another day on the job is ensured. Being Steel ranked now helped with that even more, plus it meant she got larger payouts overall. Which meant stronger booze and, as she was finding, more opportunities to get her hands on gear she might otherwise not have. She was even considering real armor finally, though that would not be before her next quest.

Abigail was interrupted by her next drink arriving, which she promptly slammed back with the same enthusiasm she always had. The only beer she liked more than cold, was free, and these were both, so she wasted no time in downing it and flagging the barkeep down for another. While it certainly hit her smaller frame harder than others, she was a seasoned drinker at this point and knew how to keep from becoming a mess. She spared a glance towards the Hundi duo who were paying everyone's tabs and, by extension, hers in time to see the nominally responsible looking one be more firmly clung to, recognizing the Silver ranked adventurer and her wife from prior open bar events like this. That overt clinginess got an amused snort from Abigail regardless, chiming in as her next beer arrived.

"What's the excuse to loosen the purse strings and force the bar to restock this time? I would make a sly remark on the last one but I really don't remember how that day ended up going."

Abigail would not look at a gift like free food and drinks too closely, at least not here in the Guild proper. She was making all due effort to keep up with Magnus, mostly because that was just how she drank, though with how busy the bar was, and how understaffed it was, her intake was slow enough she was still mostly functional and sober. Just buzzed enough to feel the warmth settle in with each beer she did get her hands on. She had a long ways to go until she hit the point of becoming a mess, again, so for the time being the Hundi couple had her attention. Mostly since watching Magnus drink got old when it meant she was not getting as many drinks by proxy, though she did not strictly blame the Ingvarr for that.

Sword and Dungeon: An Adventurer's Guild-based Fantasy RP

Abigail Blackthorn

• Name: Abigail Blackthorn
• Age: 29
• Gender: Female
• Race: Human
• Rank: Steel
• Appearance:
  Hider

  
  
  Abigail stands at about 5' even, with a lean figure that tends to make one think she would be better suited to more agile, acrobatic movement. The fact that her typical attire consists of a mix of well placed leather and travel suitable, sturdy garb helps conceal the almost total lack of excess fat on her frame. The most notable feature of her typical attire, the bright red cloak, helps obscure this fact further, preferring to have the hood up when actually adventuring. She keeps her black hair cut short, with dull brown eyes rounding out the typical glimpses your average person gets of her as she strides past.
• Personality: Abigail is the kind of soul that would have been better suited to dedicated mercenary work than she might have adventuring. Blunt, casually crass, but otherwise not unkind, she generally treats every day like it might be her last and lives like it. She doesn't bother saving much in the way of money from her jobs, keeping enough in a rainy day fund if she hits a drought of quests to complete, but otherwise spends her money freely on, well, mostly drinking and the odd preparation for her next quest as part of the adventuring guild. The way she figures, if she doesn't make it back from the next quest, what good is a massive pile of gold that never got spent?
  
  Abigail does send a portion back to her parents each time she makes it back from a quest, more out of wanting them to not worry about their rather cavalier daughter dropping out of contact all of a sudden than them needing it. She begrudgingly cares, despite pretending not to, but that doesn't keep her from enjoying her work. She throws herself into her fights with enthusiasm, figuring that if its her best skill to sell to others, she might as well enjoy it. That she enjoys it a little too much when the fighting gets interesting is neither here nor there as far as she is concerned, it gets everyone back at the end of the day.
  
  Abigail, otherwise, does not really have much in the way of shame or a whole lot of ego for that matter, leaning back into her overall demeanor. She casually cracks jokes or comments on things whenever it suits her, even at the expense of others though, ultimately it is not ill willed. Some people just need thicker skins, metaphorically or, possibly, literally.
• Brief Backstory: Abigail Blackthorn is the only daughter of a healer and a hunter, her father running a small mixed practice in the town she grew up in, blending alchemy and helping treat the sick and injured. Her mother, meanwhile, would sometimes go days if not a week or more before returning from hunting trips, much to her father's constant worry. Being raised in a village overlooking the main road between Felrist and Cerviss, she had regular enough exposure to a fairly wide, varied group of people growing up. While not as easily accessible, enough people took the time to visit the village she was exposed to enough adventurers early on to have it alter her interests in life.
  
  Abigail would start following her mom out into her hunting trips more often, though she was a terrible shot with either bow or crossbow, just never seeming to land a hit on anything to an almost comical degree. But what she could help with was hauling catches and lumber, having taken to lugging around her grandfather's axe even at a young age, even if she could barely lift the thing. She kept declaring she would be an adventurer, to the point that even her reluctant father chose to at least give her some basic instruction on tending to the injuries she would eventually sustain. Her mother, meanwhile, taught her how to survive and arranged for an old friend to come stay a few years, training Abigail how to fight with an axe, since she refused to consider anything more reasonable.
  
  By the time Abigail was 18, she was as ready as she could be to face the world as an adventurer. Her mentor offered to accompany her to Venne, and at least vouch for her training before they parted ways. Abigail would agree, setting out, perhaps a bit too eager, hitting the road without ever thinking of looking back. It would be a quick, uneventful trip, her arrival at Venne being....rather mundane. She would apply to the guild, and even with her training, was assigned a copper ranking at first since, well, she had not really adventured. Abigail would, despite disappointment, throw herself into adventuring with the passion she wanted to show, that she saw in the ones she saw growing up.
  
  Abigail took to it well, though she found herself simply living more freely after each quest that involved life threatening danger, treating each day more and more like its last. Part of that was sending more regular letters back to her home village, with some spare coin included, since there was no telling when she would just...not come back one quest. Not that she intended to go down swinging but it was certainly possible. This rhythm would define her life as an adventurer, send off a letter with coin in it, head out on the next quest, come back, celebrate, and repeat. She developed a reputation for being useful in a fight, especially a pitched one or when outnumbered, but just as much of a reputation for drinking just as freely and never bothering to save more than a small amount from her quest payouts.
  
  Making Steel rank was a recent event, within the past year, Abigail only readily pushing for the rank now that Iron rank quests had become increasingly boring in recent memory. The application for Steel was not a hard approval to get, given her experience and proven track record during quests, assessment going smoothly even beyond just the combat portions, having been maintaining both her survivalist lessons from mother, and the more healer orientated skills from father. Still, upon making the rank formally she, after sending the letter containing the good news home? Celebrated and tried to drink the bar out of booze, which promptly required another quest to restock her funds shortly after. The routine began again, though this time with more involved quests, higher pay, and more casual waste of coin between quests. Some things really did not seem likely to change, even with higher rank and the prestige that nominally came with it.
• Equipment:
  
  
  
  • Grandfather's Axe - An heirloom from her grandfather, on her father's side, who had passed before Abigail ever got to know him. The heavy, sturdily built axe is as tall as she is, though by the time that Abigail reached Steel rank, she could comfortably wield it one handed, as long as she choked up on the haft. When wielded with two hands, she can generate impressive amounts of splitting force, though the cap on the other end provides a sturdy striking point if purely blunt force is needed. Or if she is spinning through hostile ranks again. It lacks any sort of enchantment, and is just a well made, if sentimental in origin, two handed axe.
  • Healer's Kit - Hand packed and organized by her father originally, Abigail has had to replace all the perishable parts of the kit countless times over by now, though the tools have remained the same as the ones that she received as part of the kit originally. While lacking any sort of healing magic, or magic at all, the kit has enough supplies to tend to wounds and illness, to ensure they can survive until magic or natural recovery can occur.
  • Camping Supplies - A bedroll, small tent, and various other miscellaneous supplies like cooking and basic cleanliness supplies. Nothing fancy, but serviceable and cheap to replace when expended. Notably she includes a set of bells and string for setting up basic alarms around her campsite, a trick she learned from a Steel ranked scoundrel a few years ago after she drank him under the table.
• Skills:Abigail's most obvious, and main, skill she brings to any group of adventurer's is her unrelenting talent for leveraging violence against problems. She moves fast, favoring fairly light, utilitarian leathers and a striking red cloak instead of heavy armor, bringing her axe to the fray faster than most others, barring magic and more long ranged options. She favors overwhelming force, converting the momentum of a swing into another attack, which against a sufficiently skilled opponent could leave her open. Though she is tougher than she looks, mixing in kicks, punches, headbutts, and other unsporting moves as part of her fighting skills. Of note that, if asked to hit something from more than a few feet away, you would be better served asking her to hit the wrong thing and hoping she misses badly enough to hit what you were originally hoping for, as Abigail is hopelessly inept with fighting anywhere other than right up in someone's face. Much to her mother's chagrin.
  
  While not professional in any regard, Abigail can stitch wounds, set bones, and keep someone sick from deteriorating if the situation demands it. She has no healing magic, no magic to speak of at all actually, but she learned from her father that not all ills need a healing spell. Sometimes, especially on a longer going wagon trip, just stitching and setting an injury and letting it heal naturally works well. Besides, scars make for good stories. If asked, Abigail can also go gather food, clean water, and find decent campsites under most circumstances. It might not be terribly appealing food, and the campsite might have some unfortunate roots poking up, but it will usually be safe to rest, and the food filling.

Lunar Dome 10

Isaac Adesso

"....Yeah yeah, I'm awake, I'm awake."

Isaac grumbled as Holiday began sounding off across the entire Dome. The corporate taglines meant nothing to him, hell, the Dome news barely meant anything to him either. The chatter about overtime was patently ignored, he logged enough of it as it was without getting further incentives. Inclement weather was....neat, he guessed, something that Isaac still was not used to frankly. He groaned, sitting up, a nice, luxurious three hours of sleep under his belt today as he ran his hands across his face. The small machine shop he had commandeered was whirring to life, as it did at the dawn of each new day, and he swung out of his hammock with a stretch, already stumbling towards the coffee machine. It was not good, it was not even serviceable, but it was brewed strong enough to strip paint. So it would wake him up, more than before at least, and poured it into a travel thermos he had managed to bring with him.

"Right, to-do list for today."

Isaac muttered as he listened to the dome news. Cow sick, that sucks, but the possible cause was far more annoying to hear. Initial soil samples detected oil, meaning leaks in the pipe systems, meaning he would have to head down into the maintenance tunnels and find the narrow passageway leading to those pipes in particular. Orbital construction yard would be in view, yeah he had no interest in staring that way if he could help it since, well, in another life he would have been in those yards. But, no, no dwelling on that. Lunar Dome Prime had to vent a troublesome laboratory, and he was pre-cleared to go out and clear debris and litter on a brief walk. Well fuck, that was the best news he heard all month, actually perking up, however briefly, at the idea of getting to go space walk, even briefly.

"...Well, for once I am hoping something needs cleaned up..."

Isaac grabbed a fresh set of coveralls, heading to his improvised shower and rinsing off before changing into the clean coveralls, heading back out and getting the rest of his tools together just in time for Holiday to chime in. Recommended supplies for clearing lunar debris was staged in the cauldron, and he nodded to himself as he made his way for the door of his machine shop turned living space.

"Got it, grabbing breakfast then I'll inventory before checking in on that pipe leak."

Isaac made his way towards the hab units, moving faster than he normally might. The fact he could actually do one of his space walks for once was something to look forward to, frankly, even if it was for a, by all accounts, stupid reason. The fuck was Prime voiding shit for? Never mind, he didn't want to know, and Holiday wouldn't answer that even if he asked. Instead, as he made his way into the kitchen area itself, there were several other people already there. Busy morning, it seemed, and as he loaded up a tray with whatever food he could reach for his meal. No regard for flavor or aesthetic mix, just getting what he needed for nutrition, finding an empty table to sit down at with a yawn.

"No fucking clue on Prime, but if anyone sees that lunar debris sound off, I'm overdue to head out there anyways."

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

Albert Hartwig

What in the actual fuck was going on right now.

Albert was staring at the datapad, reviewing the information and briefing forwarded to him before the debrief proper by.....mostly sympathetic individuals who had caught wind of what was coming. Religious canticles, mindless preaching, the absurdity of redundancies and half mythological ramblings that could only be described as stark raving mad. Albert did not hold religion in a high regard, now normally he had no care for the belief of others, they could believe what they want as long as they left him out of it. He was no longer being left out of it, and that made an already exhausted, irritable, and overworked man even more exhausted, somehow more irritable, and if he was forced to acknowledge a fraction of this? He would never get anything done again in a timely manner. The fact he was now stuck sitting in a debrief, having some zealot berate him for necessary work was not the correct choice on their parts.

Methodically breaking down the complaints and accusations, Albert considered them one step at a time. Contempt for a Lockheed-Raytheon engine? Sure, not wrong, but that was not the issue at hand apparently. His preference of boron-carbide tools was apparently, alongside the lack of holy canticles, was a dire breach of trust and faith. Accusation of not using proper procedure when maintaining and working on the Indomitus as applicable, and whether or not he even deserved thanks for barely satisfactory work. He could feel the vein in his temple beginning to pulse, though he bided his time to let the half cyborg continue digging deeper into pissing him off for all the wrong reasons.

The bitch, sorry, beatitude Tyche Comstar decided to chime in finally, though that was relative since, well, her voice was purely synthetic. More cybernetic hyper religious nonsense, declaring that military necessity could allow leeway, something something bringing the sector into the arms of mother Earth, ancient corporate rites, Comstar holy lands, more and more yammering. The demand that her goons accompany him when dealing with anything related to natives or their technology got a loud scoff from Albert, just after she apparently intended to leave nothing to argue. A sane, well rested person might have ignored that, but Albert was exhausted and notoriously lacking in brain to mouth filter. Even as the Captain turned to other matters, Albert tossed the datapad on the table and leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.

"So, speaking with all due respect, having reviewed the 'canticles' and improper use of procedure and operation as per holy doctrine? If I had wasted my damn time with a fraction of that not only would I not be sitting here, but the Percheron would not be out there anymore, its crew would be irradiated to the point of death in minutes, or voided from the reactor going super critical and detonating. Not only that, but the away team would be gone as well, a critical blow to operations of the Indomitus. Never mind the complications of having a ship scale reactor turning into a dirty bomb that close to operations when the void of space is notoriously poor at blocking particles."

Albert's glare had not left Tyche Comstar, even as he tapped the datapad and continued, his notorious lack of filter on full display for all to see.

"As for the Indomitus, to meet the timetables put forward, I carried out repairs, optimization, and streamlining as appropriate for us to make it here on schedule. A schedule that, I might add, led to the intercept of pirates and prevention of the loss of the convoy in total. As much as I adore procedure and mumbling about red tape, I'm not here to cushion egos or pay lip service to religion. I am here to get a damn job done, with too little resources and too many requests. The Lance alone should be holding my twenty four seven attention, which it isn't, so unless your retinue knows how to be seen and not heard? Keep them the hell out of my personal space because I am not going to let religious grandstanding get in the way of my job."

Albert sat back in his seat, picking up the datapad and making it a deliberate point to wipe it of the religious nuttery that had been forwarded to him. He would not be found mumbling holy canticles over any of the Lance's Cores when they need to have launched for a sortie five minutes ago. Almost as an afterthought, scrolling through his to do list, he finished his interruption of the meeting. Maybe they would learn to not invite him to these damn things now.

"Oh, and my tools are designed to not spark and be neutral when interacting with as many materials as possible. Titanium-steel is pointlessly expensive for no significant advantages. Now where is my coffee mug...."

Lancer [Mechs, Magic, and Intrigue]

Yeah I got distracted and sidetracked, no excuses here, just apologies. Going to get caught up and post up tonight at the latest.

Blades of Iron Roses: An Anime-Inspired Knight RP

Rolan

---

Rolan had not entirely been sure what to expect when he was informed they were departing for the Valours Tournament. Yes, it was an annual tradition that any knightly order worth their title would have representation at. Yes, the fact it was run by the nobility, the Crown itself, made not having attending members, the best and brightest, as much a dire insult as it was a mistake. But the question that remained in mind was, more so than any other, why him in particular. The Captain had some of the finest knights at her command, capable and dangerous in equal measures, and almost all of the ones present were well suited to tournament combat. But unless they had some sort of marksmanship contest in order, Rolan did not high hopes of putting on a display that would bring the Iron Rose Knights the honor and distinction they deserved. Rolan had said none of this out loud, of course, following the Captain's orders and departing with the rest who were attending.

It was all a bit too....high up the nobility for someone like Rolan. He was a former huntsman, turned bounty hunter, turned knight. While the family name he never laid claim to did, technically, give him some claim of noble blood it was tarnished by the reputation and actions that his ancestors had undertaken. So the fact he was on the same grounds as the royal family among other such high ranking nobility stood out. He deliberately avoided drawing their attention, on general principle, while assessing the other goings on. Imposing figures and striking presences were plentiful, but it was a tournament, most would be bringing their best and brightest armor and performances. Though with that many people attempting to stand out, it sort of all blurred in a sort of odd way.

The grounds were, unsurprisingly bustling with not just nobility and knightly orders. Anyone who had a reason to seek single combat, the glory that came with it, and had the means to attend would be here. The only standouts besides the royals and more established knightly orders was the not insignificant number of Hundi, who's honor duels and culture practically turned Valours into a lure for them, and the Ingvarr who elected to arrive. Rolan was not, ultimately, looking to draw any of their attention either, focused instead on busying himself with more practical and appropriate ways to keep himself busy.

Given no overt orders or taskings, Rolan had taken to walking the various stalls and stands peddling food, wares, and other items or knowledge of possible note. While the food was not a great concern to him, the idea of possibly finding unusual reagents, odd equipment, or other curios that could be made useful to the cause gave him a good reason to at least walk the stalls and stands, keep a sharp eye out, and see what arose from his investigation and patrol. That was what it really was, keeping himself busy and alert by moving and observing. If something was to go wrong, he ideally wanted to catch it before it became a problem. This many people of note, of importance, congregated in one place made them a target, and while that also meant security would be high, an extra set of eyes for the cause never hurt.

Sword and Dungeon: An Adventurer's Guild-based Fantasy RP

Bit delayed on my part, but I got sidetracked and wanted to at least get something posted up before further delay.

Abigail Blackthorn

• Name: Abigail Blackthorn
• Age: 29
• Gender: Female
• Race: Human
• Rank: Steel
• Appearance:
  Hider

  
  
  Abigail stands at about 5' even, with a lean figure that tends to make one think she would be better suited to more agile, acrobatic movement. The fact that her typical attire consists of a mix of well placed leather and travel suitable, sturdy garb helps conceal the almost total lack of excess fat on her frame. The most notable feature of her typical attire, the bright red cloak, helps obscure this fact further, preferring to have the hood up when actually adventuring. She keeps her black hair cut short, with dull brown eyes rounding out the typical glimpses your average person gets of her as she strides past.
• Personality: Abigail is the kind of soul that would have been better suited to dedicated mercenary work than she might have adventuring. Blunt, casually crass, but otherwise not unkind, she generally treats every day like it might be her last and lives like it. She doesn't bother saving much in the way of money from her jobs, keeping enough in a rainy day fund if she hits a drought of quests to complete, but otherwise spends her money freely on, well, mostly drinking and the odd preparation for her next quest as part of the adventuring guild. The way she figures, if she doesn't make it back from the next quest, what good is a massive pile of gold that never got spent?
  
  Abigail does send a portion back to her parents each time she makes it back from a quest, more out of wanting them to not worry about their rather cavalier daughter dropping out of contact all of a sudden than them needing it. She begrudgingly cares, despite pretending not to, but that doesn't keep her from enjoying her work. She throws herself into her fights with enthusiasm, figuring that if its her best skill to sell to others, she might as well enjoy it. That she enjoys it a little too much when the fighting gets interesting is neither here nor there as far as she is concerned, it gets everyone back at the end of the day.
  
  Abigail, otherwise, does not really have much in the way of shame or a whole lot of ego for that matter, leaning back into her overall demeanor. She casually cracks jokes or comments on things whenever it suits her, even at the expense of others though, ultimately it is not ill willed. Some people just need thicker skins, metaphorically or, possibly, literally.
• Brief Backstory: Abigail Blackthorn is the only daughter of a healer and a hunter, her father running a small mixed practice in the town she grew up in, blending alchemy and helping treat the sick and injured. Her mother, meanwhile, would sometimes go days if not a week or more before returning from hunting trips, much to her father's constant worry. Being raised in a village overlooking the main road between Felrist and Cerviss, she had regular enough exposure to a fairly wide, varied group of people growing up. While not as easily accessible, enough people took the time to visit the village she was exposed to enough adventurers early on to have it alter her interests in life.
  
  Abigail would start following her mom out into her hunting trips more often, though she was a terrible shot with either bow or crossbow, just never seeming to land a hit on anything to an almost comical degree. But what she could help with was hauling catches and lumber, having taken to lugging around her grandfather's axe even at a young age, even if she could barely lift the thing. She kept declaring she would be an adventurer, to the point that even her reluctant father chose to at least give her some basic instruction on tending to the injuries she would eventually sustain. Her mother, meanwhile, taught her how to survive and arranged for an old friend to come stay a few years, training Abigail how to fight with an axe, since she refused to consider anything more reasonable.
  
  By the time Abigail was 18, she was as ready as she could be to face the world as an adventurer. Her mentor offered to accompany her to Venne, and at least vouch for her training before they parted ways. Abigail would agree, setting out, perhaps a bit too eager, hitting the road without ever thinking of looking back. It would be a quick, uneventful trip, her arrival at Venne being....rather mundane. She would apply to the guild, and even with her training, was assigned a copper ranking at first since, well, she had not really adventured. Abigail would, despite disappointment, throw herself into adventuring with the passion she wanted to show, that she saw in the ones she saw growing up.
  
  Abigail took to it well, though she found herself simply living more freely after each quest that involved life threatening danger, treating each day more and more like its last. Part of that was sending more regular letters back to her home village, with some spare coin included, since there was no telling when she would just...not come back one quest. Not that she intended to go down swinging but it was certainly possible. This rhythm would define her life as an adventurer, send off a letter with coin in it, head out on the next quest, come back, celebrate, and repeat. She developed a reputation for being useful in a fight, especially a pitched one or when outnumbered, but just as much of a reputation for drinking just as freely and never bothering to save more than a small amount from her quest payouts.
  
  Making Steel rank was a recent event, within the past year, Abigail only readily pushing for the rank now that Iron rank quests had become increasingly boring in recent memory. The application for Steel was not a hard approval to get, given her experience and proven track record during quests, assessment going smoothly even beyond just the combat portions, having been maintaining both her survivalist lessons from mother, and the more healer orientated skills from father. Still, upon making the rank formally she, after sending the letter containing the good news home? Celebrated and tried to drink the bar out of booze, which promptly required another quest to restock her funds shortly after. The routine began again, though this time with more involved quests, higher pay, and more casual waste of coin between quests. Some things really did not seem likely to change, even with higher rank and the prestige that nominally came with it.
• Equipment:
  
  
  
  • Grandfather's Axe - An heirloom from her grandfather, on her father's side, who had passed before Abigail ever got to know him. The heavy, sturdily built axe is as tall as she is, though by the time that Abigail reached Steel rank, she could comfortably wield it one handed, as long as she choked up on the haft. When wielded with two hands, she can generate impressive amounts of splitting force, though the cap on the other end provides a sturdy striking point if purely blunt force is needed. Or if she is spinning through hostile ranks again. It lacks any sort of enchantment, and is just a well made, if sentimental in origin, two handed axe.
  • Healer's Kit - Hand packed and organized by her father originally, Abigail has had to replace all the perishable parts of the kit countless times over by now, though the tools have remained the same as the ones that she received as part of the kit originally. While lacking any sort of healing magic, or magic at all, the kit has enough supplies to tend to wounds and illness, to ensure they can survive until magic or natural recovery can occur.
  • Camping Supplies - A bedroll, small tent, and various other miscellaneous supplies like cooking and basic cleanliness supplies. Nothing fancy, but serviceable and cheap to replace when expended. Notably she includes a set of bells and string for setting up basic alarms around her campsite, a trick she learned from a Steel ranked scoundrel a few years ago after she drank him under the table.
• Skills:Abigail's most obvious, and main, skill she brings to any group of adventurer's is her unrelenting talent for leveraging violence against problems. She moves fast, favoring fairly light, utilitarian leathers and a striking red cloak instead of heavy armor, bringing her axe to the fray faster than most others, barring magic and more long ranged options. She favors overwhelming force, converting the momentum of a swing into another attack, which against a sufficiently skilled opponent could leave her open. Though she is tougher than she looks, mixing in kicks, punches, headbutts, and other unsporting moves as part of her fighting skills. Of note that, if asked to hit something from more than a few feet away, you would be better served asking her to hit the wrong thing and hoping she misses badly enough to hit what you were originally hoping for, as Abigail is hopelessly inept with fighting anywhere other than right up in someone's face. Much to her mother's chagrin.
  
  While not professional in any regard, Abigail can stitch wounds, set bones, and keep someone sick from deteriorating if the situation demands it. She has no healing magic, no magic to speak of at all actually, but she learned from her father that not all ills need a healing spell. Sometimes, especially on a longer going wagon trip, just stitching and setting an injury and letting it heal naturally works well. Besides, scars make for good stories. If asked, Abigail can also go gather food, clean water, and find decent campsites under most circumstances. It might not be terribly appealing food, and the campsite might have some unfortunate roots poking up, but it will usually be safe to rest, and the food filling.