Infinite Cosmos

Avalia

Time: 10am, Traveling from Sun Elf Kingdom to River port.
Location: The woods outside River Port then into River Port
Interactions: Boar, Joverine
Mentions: @Alivefalling
Equipment: New backpack acquired from Sun Elf Kingdom odds and ends, traveling essentials including portal hygiene products, his journal along with the ink pot and quill, a small fire starter kit, a water canteen, and a bed roll tied to the top of his backpack, coin purse tied to his belt containing approx. 450 amas from his previous commission. Personal axe, forged from iron but etched with intricate markings, a 'travel-sized' pickaxe, made from iron and kept simple.

Orenn grimaced. The boar had managed to strike him on his left thigh as well. After stumbling back a few steps, the pain panged through the entire left side of his body. "Nngg. You just had to get me one time too, eh, laddie." Orenn exhaled sharply, his blue eyes seemed more icy than normal.

Facing the boar that was readying another charge, Orenn readied himself for what is to come. In his mind, images of how he was going to kill the boar flashed. He could go for a straight-forward swing and separate the boar's head from its body. He can go for a crippling blow, severing the boar's lower legs from the upper counterparts. Or... He can...

Orenn's eyes opened. With a small smile that conveyed the briefest sense of sadness, Orenn switched his axe to be held with his right hand only. With a small nod that seems to acknowledge the boar, Orenn steadied himself as the boar closed in on him. With a long, but smooth, exhale, Orenn stopped the tusk that was coming straight from the boar towards his torso and used the boar's momentum to be thrusted into the air. While 'airborne' Orenn kicked his right leg outwards and swung his upper body so now he is on the back of the boar. Once there, Orenn drove the handle of his axe into the back of the boar's head with the axe blade facing skyward. The boar collapsed into the ground from carrying Orenn's weight and the force exerted from Orenn's axe handle. The forward momentum of the boar made it so the pair skidded on the ground for a few feet before coming to a stop. Meanwhile, Orenn had rotated the axe so the blade is now pointed towards the ground.

"With this blow, I honor you. I thank you for all that you provide to me. May you travel to your forefathers and be at peace."

Orenn thought in his mind. The pointy end of the axe was thrusted into the boar's throat as Orenn forcefully pulled up on the axe handle. With the previous injury sustained, the boar did not struggle much after this second blow. With one close stroke, Orenn removed his axe, leaving the carcass of the boar more or less intact.

The pain from his own injury returned. Orenn looked down as he tore a bit of fabric from his clothing and did a quick field bandage on the wound. "I suppose I'll have to head into town an get some medication for this. Lest it festers then I'm really in trouble..." he thought to himself. "But first. The boar." Orenn approached his kill, kneeling in front of the carcass. With his eyes closed, he gave it a small nod of honor and respect. After that, he got to work taking apart the boar, harvesting everything he could. Tusks, the pelt, and some meat for himself. Any other bits he could not use immediately, he had the wherewithal to burn, as to not attract more predators. With the meat, he started a fire and cooked it. The tusks and pelt he washed in a nearby river. He store the tusks into his backpack and hung the cleaned pelt to dry as he ate campfired boar.

Avalia

Time: 10am, Traveling from Sun Elf Kingdom to River port.
Location: The woods outside River Port
Interactions: Boar, Joverine
Mentions: @Alivefalling
Equipment: New backpack acquired from Sun Elf Kingdom odds and ends, traveling essentials including portal hygiene products, his journal along with the ink pot and quill, a small fire starter kit, a water canteen, and a bed roll tied to the top of his backpack, coin purse tied to his belt containing approx. 450 amas from his previous commission. Personal axe, forged from iron but etched with intricate markings, a 'travel-sized' pickaxe, made from iron and kept simple.

A rustle here, a snort there. Orenn was moving through the weeds in the woods, trying to track down his target. It would be inappropriate to call it his prey out here. As far as he knows, there could be creatures so big in these woods, they eat his kind in one fell swoop and doesn't even break their stride. He will approach this with caution, but in a relaxed manner.

The rustling sounds seems to have quickened. Orenn's eybrows furrowed as he drew his axe out of his belt and scanned his surroundings. He was never the most proficient hunter. His kind were never meant to be one's traditional hunter-gatherer. Sure, they farmed here and there, but in terms of animal kills, they traded or bartered in the market to fill their need. However, in Orenn's case, he has had to survive much of his adult life on his own. Trading and bartering weren't always enough. He learned to hunt, he learned to track. Most of all, he learned to survive.

"I swear I'm hearing some sort of battle-theme. Me brains must be fryin in this stupid heat. I cannae be hearing such tunes out here in the sticks..." Orenn thought to himself. He kept his axe in his dominant right arm and reached for his water canteen with his left. Before he can take the drink, however, Orenn felt a presence bearing down on him. Swinging his body slightly back and to his left, he swung his axe in a wide crescent from left to right as well. The momentum of the motion cause Orenn to pivot. "Well there ya are, ya beauty." Orenn huffed softly. A small devious grin appeared on his face as he saw the charging barrow. Orenn quickly shrugged off his pack and slung it to a nearby tree as he took his stance, ready to make his first dodge away from the boar.

As the boar approached, Orenn dropped into an athletic stance. As much as a man of his stature can muster, anyways. He also gripped his axe with both hands, sliding his right hand up quite close to the base of the axe-blade and his left hand held the handle of the axe a mere few inches from the bottom. Orenn licked his lips and in a flash the boar was on him. Sliding his left foot back behind his right, he turned his entire body sideways to the boar charging in a straight line and with both hands on his axe, he attempted to take a big hack at the body of the boar...

Avalia

Time: 10am, Traveling from Sun Elf Kingdom to River port.
Location: Sun Elf Kingdom, but ultimately River Port
Interactions: None, other than NPCs creatures in the wild
Mentions: None.
Equipment: New backpack acquired from Sun Elf Kingdom odds and ends, traveling essentials including portal hygiene products, his journal along with the ink pot and quill, a small fire starter kit, a water canteen, and a bed roll tied to the top of his backpack, coin purse tied to his belt containing approx. 450 amas from his previous commission. Personal axe, forged from iron but etched with intricate markings, a 'travel-sized' pickaxe, made from iron and kept simple.

Stepping out of Odds and Ends, Orenn adjusted the strap on his backpack once he stashed all of his things in there. Though there isn't a whole lot in his pack anyways. He browsed the outfits, sure. But, unfortunately, there were nothing for a man his size. Of course, he could have something tailored for him, but that just would not be the Dwarven way. Sure. modern comforts are nice. But, thats not how Orenn was raised. Orenn has lamented the downfall of his family, but he has since gotten over that. He has embraced his life. Maybe, just maybe he can recover the Fists of Thror. Maybe he can restore his family's glory. Or maybe he was just destined to be a anonymous blacksmith toiling away in his small, unassuming shop.

Brushing off the thought, Orenn stopped by a nearby stall and bought some food that were made for travel. He looked around, thinking that he should head to River Port to see if there are more information on the stone that he is hunting for. He thought about writing a letter to his commissioner and telling him that this project will have to be put on pause due to the difficulty of acquiring the material they had requested. Thank goodness for non-refundable retainers. Orenn sighed, and started for the port in which he can catch a boat and head towards River Port...

-Nothing of note happened during his travel. He kept to himself and stayed away from the other folks on the boat also making the trip to River Port. He did end up writing that letter to his commissioner, putting his current commission on pause, until he can hunt down the stone, that is...-

Upon arriving at River Port, he realized that the pickaxe he brought with him is needing some maintenance. He found a simple toolshop in River Port that let him use their furnace and anvil for the small price of 10 amas. Orenn scoffed, but paid the price nonetheless. After all, a mere 10 amas was worth the price to keep all of his tools well oiled and sharp. He looked around, not wanting to pay for food and lodging for now. He thought to himself as he started to head to the surrounding forest "Hm. Maybe I can find some nice stones and iron to work and maybe hunt a Joverine Boar for food and use their tusk as decoration on my next piece of work..."

Orenn then began his hunt, primarily looking for the Joverine Boar while seeing if he can find a small cave somewhere to dig for some ores he can work with...

Avalia

Time: 8:30 am, Summer Solstice
Location: The Glistening Lord Inn and Tavern, Sun Elf Kingdom
Interactions: None, other than NPCs in the inn
Mentions: None.
Equipment: Rucksack filled with travel essentials, small personal axe, checked in with innkeep.

A soft thud could be heard from the room. Orenn grumbles as he sets down his mug of ale. Breakfast was simple. Eggs, sausage, toasted bread with a few mugs of brown ale to wash it all down. Letting out a heavy sigh, Orenn took out a leather-bound journal and opened it. Peering inside, he shifted a small, hand-drawn map to an empty spot on the table and set out a small jar of ink and quill to write with. Small tinkling sounds can be heard as he tapped the quill into the ink bottle.

Unsuccessful, as of right now, to acquire Tyrfing stone. It's apparently damn rare. Shit. Maybe I should have charged more. I've run through about 450 amas of the 600 retainer I took and it seems like I'm nowhere near this damn stone. Nothing in Yenworth. Nothing in North Pass. Nothing in Roshmi. I swear if I find out that the damn stone is found in River Fairy Kingdom or something I'd be pissed. I'll have to write a separate letter to that guy and ask for more from the remaining 600 amas... I'd really not want to do that. I have the iron ready, the wood for the handle, and leather for the wraps. I just need the damn stone. And now there is this shite with the dark elves declaring war. Fuck sakes. Can't everyone just leave each other alone? Why does it have to be all this conquering and bloodshed? Just find some good stone to work, and work.

Orenn physically shook his head as he tapped the quill back into the ink bottle and took another dram of the brown ale in his mug. What is it with this stone anyways. Why was it so hard to find? Orenn took a look at the map and tried to decide on a route he can take. He'll head towards River Port next. There are lots of people at the port. A blessing and a curse for him. Lots of information coming and going, but also a lot of judgment. Sighing, he sealed up the jar of ink and secure the quill before closing up the journal, satisfied with his latest entry. He flipped through a few more pages and looked at a few recipes and pondered some adjustments as he finished up his ale.

Once the ale mug was emptied, he got up and tidied up a bit. As brutish as his people might seem, they're still generally well-mannered and well-raised. Double checking that all of his belongings were packed away into his rucksack, his coin purse was tied to his waist and a charm that was passed down through his family was fastened to the necklace around his neck. Sheathing his axe to his waistband, Orenn exited the room and paid for his stay before leaving the inn and headed into town for more information and to, hopefully, outright buy the elusive stone...

Avalia

Orenn

Character Sheet

(No tusks, and no magical armor, yet)

Orenn V Ironfist, 275, Male, Dwarf

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Appearance

Height:

4'11"

Weight:

250lbs

Hair Color:

Grey

Eye Color:

Blue, with small streaks of gold in the iris

Skin Tone:

Steely grey

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Psychology

Likes:

⋆Gold
⋆Spicy food
⋆Metal crafting

Dislikes:

⋆Dullness
⋆Indecisiveness
⋆Dark elves

Fears:

⋆Death
⋆Extreme heights
⋆Failure

Sexuality:

Heterosexual

Personality:

Orenn, being ever the recluse, tends to keep to himself as much as possible. He prefers the crackling of his forge flames to the hustle and bustle of city streets. The sound of hammer hitting an anvil is his lullaby, the warm steam of tempering metal a mother's caress. When he has to interact with others, for example when he is restocking for his workshop, he keeps it as profession and concise as possible. He isn't necessarily selfish, but he isn't above asking for a fair price for his services. While some might take his behavior as mean-spirited, he really isn't trying to be. He is generally in good spirits, he simply likes to keep to himself. While he isn't completely self-serving, he typically won't be the first to jump into the fray to save a friend or companion. That is not to say he outright won't, his self-preservation instincts often wins out over more noble intentions.

Continuing with previously described traits, Orenn might be seen as ill-tempered. In reality, he is more often jovial. He doesn't often show it, but he does, he can be quite welcoming. He isn't one to guffaw and be boisterous, and the most he might offer is a small smile or a smirk. If someone is meeting Orenn for the first time, their first impression would most likely be distant and standoffish. As with most Dwarven Folk, Orenn is patient. He understands that it takes thousands of years for a good piece of ore to be formed and it could be decades before it can be refined into a marvelous craft. While Orenn does not considered himself cowardly, he will not act on bravado alone. He likes to see the situation unfold before deciding on a defined course of action. Nervousness is not something Orenn experiences often. Given that he likes to wait before acting, he is confident his choices.

Orenn is not the most intelligent dwarf. His intelligence should be considered as above-average when compared to other Dwarven Folk. Charisma, ha. Most folks will not find Orenn charismatic, given his reclusive nature. He is friendly, and would like to have friends, but its simply harder for him to do so since he tends to keep to himself. Orenn has a sense of humor, and can enjoy a joke but he just doesn't react as much or as heavily as others might expect. His energy level varies depending on what he is doing. When doing things he considers mundane, such as general shop maintenance, he can seem slow and lethargic. When forging a piece of majestic weaponry? He never seems to stop, nor does he want to.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Background

Occupation

Blacksmith

Living Immediate Family Members:

He does not know

Dead Immediate Family Members:

If one cares to trace far enough back, he is a descendant of Orenn I The Resplendent. King of the Iron Hill and the first wielder of The Fists of Thror, the great gauntlets forged in the Ice Flame

Current Companions:

None

Current and Past Lover(s):

None

History(2 paragraph minimum):
As far as Orenn remembers, he has been near a forge. His house, the lineage of a long-forgotten king, has faded. The only thing that remains a reminder is his last name. Ironfist, a name that used to be synonymous with magnificent crafts and unrivaled luxury. Now, Orenn lives in a shack, with nothing but simple tools and a forge flame that always seems to be dying. While demand is still high for well-made things, the proliferation of magic and other human technology made traditional metalworking often obsolete.

Orenn, with the fading of his once resplendent house, faded into the background as well. Whispers of strange curses and vexes started to swirl around him. How can one such house as Ironfist fade so quickly? Why was a son of the old king born with steely grey skin, rather than the fair skin that the old king was once known for? Orenn endured and withdrew himself from the public. He stuck to the old ways, sourcing metal ores from the mountains and transforming them into trinkets and tools still used today. His mind is always working, however. Fantastical ideas of powerful weapons, armor worthy of legend and other such crafts is never far from reach...

Orenn currently lives on the outskirts of Ironhold, on the western edge of Aldrakh. His shack is nothing to write home about. Patchwork roof, windows that never seem to close completely, and a small sense of destitute. He has things he needs to live, but quite literally nothing more. He does keep his shack rather tidy, however.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Combat and Magic:

Strength:8
Speed on Land:5
Speed in Air:0
Magical Ability:0
Dexterity:8
Weapon Proficiency:6
Stealth:1

Avalia

Orenn

Character Sheet

(No tusks, and no magical armor, yet)

Orenn V Ironfist, 275, Male, Dwarf

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Appearance

Height:

4'11"

Weight:

250lbs

Hair Color:

Grey

Eye Color:

Blue, with small streaks of gold in the iris

Skin Tone:

Steely grey

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Psychology

Likes:

⋆Gold
⋆Spicy food
⋆Metal crafting

Dislikes:

⋆Dullness
⋆Indecisiveness
⋆Dark elves

Fears:

⋆Death
⋆Extreme heights
⋆Failure

Sexuality:

Heterosexual

Personality:

Orenn, being ever the recluse, tends to keep to himself as much as possible. He prefers the crackling of his forge flames to the hustle and bustle of city streets. The sound of hammer hitting an anvil is his lullaby, the warm steam of tempering metal a mother's caress. When he has to interact with others, for example when he is restocking for his workshop, he keeps it as profession and concise as possible. He isn't necessarily selfish, but he isn't above asking for a fair price for his services. While some might take his behavior as mean-spirited, he really isn't trying to be. He is generally in good spirits, he simply likes to keep to himself. While he isn't completely self-serving, he typically won't be the first to jump into the fray to save a friend or companion. That is not to say he outright won't, his self-preservation instincts often wins out over more noble intentions.

Continuing with previously described traits, Orenn might be seen as ill-tempered. In reality, he is more often jovial. He doesn't often show it, but he does, he can be quite welcoming. He isn't one to guffaw and be boisterous, and the most he might offer is a small smile or a smirk. If someone is meeting Orenn for the first time, their first impression would most likely be distant and standoffish. As with most Dwarven Folk, Orenn is patient. He understands that it takes thousands of years for a good piece of ore to be formed and it could be decades before it can be refined into a marvelous craft. While Orenn does not considered himself cowardly, he will not act on bravado alone. He likes to see the situation unfold before deciding on a defined course of action. Nervousness is not something Orenn experiences often. Given that he likes to wait before acting, he is confident his choices.

Orenn is not the most intelligent dwarf. His intelligence should be considered as above-average when compared to other Dwarven Folk. Charisma, ha. Most folks will not find Orenn charismatic, given his reclusive nature. He is friendly, and would like to have friends, but its simply harder for him to do so since he tends to keep to himself. Orenn has a sense of humor, and can enjoy a joke but he just doesn't react as much or as heavily as others might expect. His energy level varies depending on what he is doing. When doing things he considers mundane, such as general shop maintenance, he can seem slow and lethargic. When forging a piece of majestic weaponry? He never seems to stop, nor does he want to.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Background

Occupation

Blacksmith

Living Immediate Family Members:

He does not know

Dead Immediate Family Members:

If one cares to trace far enough back, he is a descendant of Orenn I The Resplendent. King of the Iron Hill and the first wielder of The Fists of Thror, the great gauntlets forged in the Ice Flame

Current Companions:

None

Current and Past Lover(s):

None

History(2 paragraph minimum):
As far as Orenn remembers, he has been near a forge. His house, the lineage of a long-forgotten king, has faded. The only thing that remains a reminder is his last name. Ironfist, a name that used to be synonymous with magnificent crafts and unrivaled luxury. Now, Orenn lives in a shack, with nothing but simple tools and a forge flame that always seems to be dying. While demand is still high for well-made things, the proliferation of magic and other human technology made traditional metalworking often obsolete.

Orenn, with the fading of his once resplendent house, faded into the background as well. Whispers of strange curses and vexes started to swirl around him. How can one such house as Ironfist fade so quickly? Why was a son of the old king born with steely grey skin, rather than the fair skin that the old king was once known for? Orenn endured and withdrew himself from the public. He stuck to the old ways, sourcing metal ores from the mountains and transforming them into trinkets and tools still used today. His mind is always working, however. Fantastical ideas of powerful weapons, armor worthy of legend and other such crafts is never far from reach...

Orenn currently lives on the outskirts of Ironhold, on the western edge of Aldrakh. His shack is nothing to write home about. Patchwork roof, windows that never seem to close completely, and a small sense of destitute. He has things he needs to live, but quite literally nothing more. He does keep his shack rather tidy, however.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Combat and Magic:

Strength:8
Speed on Land:5
Speed in Air:0
Magical Ability:0
Dexterity:8
Weapon Proficiency:6
Stealth:1

Avalia

I would like to join if there are still space?

Old Glory - A House Divided (Knightly American houses, long after the end)

Camden the Younger, Major WIP

Name: Lord Camden The Younger of House Brewer, Lord of the Lakelands, Sovereign of Illinois, Warden of the Great Lakes, Marine Master of the Mississippi
Age: 23
Sex: Male

Appearance:
Camden has inherited the looks that his forefathers bore. Tall, fair skinned, with a crown of golden hair. He does not, however, have the piercing blue eyes like his forefathers. His eyes are instead dark and intense, akin to an offspring of the Lakeland tribes. When at court or conducting official business, Camden dresses as a lord should. Cotton undershirt, leather tunic, and armored appropriately for the locale and nature of the business at hand. When he is at ease, he can be seen mostly dresses as a common member of the Lakeland folks. Cotton shirts, woven britches and the like. He often has a thicker, weathered cloak with him, emblazoned with the sigil of House Brewer on it with a brooch made of starmetal in the shape of a fully grown frond of wheat, the symbol of House Brewer, to hold it together. During the harsh winter, Camden trades in his leather tunics and outer garments for a thicker, fur-lined variant to combat the biting wind and cold of the Lakelands. Camden always carries some sort of small arms on him. Anything from a simple, yet ornate, dagger, to the legendary greataxe of House Brewer. The greataxe, aptly named Fjord Cutter, is an awe-inspiring creation of master smiths in times past. The axe blade is forged from starmetal, giving it a golden hue among blackness. The handle is a braided bunch of old maple. It looks weathered, but Camden has no doubts about its durability. The most unique fact about the weapon is the gem socketed at it's pummel. A pale-blue stone that shoned with what seems like starlight.

Lineage: Son of Lord Camland Brewer, Lord of the Lakelands
Background:
(Short history of major events that shaped their lives and what they've been doing up until now.)

Personality Traits:
(Their personality but in traits instead of long sentences. They are what they MOST OFTEN display, think like traits in CK3 if you've played that game. It should be obvious that they will not like people with opposite traits: cynical vs zealous, kind vs cruel, just vs arbitrary, brave vs cowardly, etc.)

Ambitions:
(The goals of your character, their driving motives.)

Achievements:
(Major personal achievements like increasing revenue, slaying a great beast or monster, fighting in a battle, dueling a known champion, establishing a new trade route or treaty.)

Relationships:
(This can include family, marriages, friendships, rivalries, etc. Talk with other players to see if you can connect your houses and characters with each other!)

Misc:
(Other stuff you'd want to put in like habits, mannerisms, fears, personal belongings, etc)

Old Glory - A House Divided (Knightly American houses, long after the end)

House Brewer of the Lakelands

House Name:House Brewer
House Words:"Praise be the Harvest"
Coat of Arms: A golden frond of wheat, on a background of blue (Pantone 2905 U, to be specific)

Seat: The Lakelands, "Chicago", Citadel of the Lakes (Old Shedd Aquarium)
Titles:

• Lord of the Lakelands
• Sovereign of Illinois
• Warden of the Great Lakes
• Marine Masters of the Mississippi

History: House Brewer, or rather, the Brewers, has been around for ages. The Brewers have always served the old lord in the North, working as laborers and occasionally men at arms. Over the centuries, Brewer men have always worked hard and, when necessary, fought bravely. However, even with their hardy nature and tireless work ethic, the Brewer's as a house did not amount to much.

Until one faithful campaign.

The lands to the West of the Lakelands, namely Minnestar and the Dako Plains, were considered strategically important and some were even fertile farm lands. The old lords in the North oft waged wars against the tribes in the North to seize the lands for themselves and the kingdom as a whole. These campaigns were mostly successful, but often at the cost of men and war beasts alike. One campaign, aptly named "War of Grains" saw the lords of the North, along with Brewer men at arms, wage a costly war against the tribes of Minnestar. On the morn of the decisive battle, one Camden Brewer was a common man at arms, fighting under the banner of lords of the north. The battle raged on around him. Arrows loosed from drawn bows and men cleaved at each other with crude iron swords.

Camden, knocked from his horse, rose to see that he was one among a few. One of those was the lord of the north. A tribesman was about five paces from the lord and had an arrow drawn. A sudden burst of courage overcame young Camden. He charged forth and tossed a nearby spear at the tribesman while diving in front of the lord. A whizz was heard. The lord, unharmed, pulled Camden to his feet but noticed that he was wounded. An arrow stuck out from his left shoulder like a grotesque branch from a tree. The action of Camden, however, served as the rallying cry for the rest of the troops, as the act of a young soldier in the face of danger is oft to do. The battle, and the rest of the campaign, was theirs. The lords of the north took over the fertile lands of Minnestar for their own.

For now.

Young Camden, for his bravery, was given a title and a minor land to hold as his own, in Illinois. Now, as lord of Wind Castle, Camden's family finally was able to settle and prosper. As a port on one of the great lakes, Illinois had plenty of commerce and trade. Over the years, House Brewer moved on from simple laborers to merchants and traders. Of course, their men at arms still fought for the lords in the north. The campaigns west never quite stopped, or were they as successful for the lords in the north as War of Grains. The foothold they gained west of the Mississippi were eventually ceded back to the tribes of Minnestar, in order to forge a peace treaty...

This was about 300 years ago now. Over the century, House Brewer grew strong. From simple farmers, to knights, to lord. Things of note that occurred within the past century. One major event of note was the marriage of Camlion Brewer, son of Camden I, married Starlinea, daughter of the high chieftain of the United Minnestar tribes. Starlinea, a weaver of dreams for the tribe, prophesied that a son of Camden would rise to rule the Lakelands, and with his blood unite the Tribes of the Lakes once again. Camlion, seeking glory and prosperity, moved the ancestral seat of House Brewer from Wind Castle, located within the heart of Illinois, to a location by the coast of the great lakes. Upon that land, he built Citadel of the Lakes, the new seat of House Brewer that has remained since.

One more thing can be said about Camden I, and his rule as lord of the lakelands. Along with his physical might, he had insight. He was able to think and plan for the future of his house. He knew that in order for his house to truly grew strong in the land he has been given, he has to expand the realm of control of House Brewer. A minor lord with naught but one keep to his name would never amount to anything. House James, the former ruling house of the Lakelands based in Ohio, held the Lakelands as a region with an iron fist. With such a rule, there were bound to be dissent among the people. The taxes are always too high, the working hours are always too long and the pay is never enough. However, he had to bide his time. He had already endeared himself to Lord Leron James, the former lord of the Lakelands. With his hold being at Wind Castle, Camden I worked to secured himself a trade route to and from the both the coast of the great lakes and the mighty Mississippi. He made recommendations, often tenaciously, to Lord James, about how to tax and regulate trade. Over time, Camden I was able to increase profits from trade five-fold while not incurring the gripe of the locals over heightened taxes. Satisfied with this work, Lord James made Camden, now in his fifties, accompany him to The Old Dominion and to see the King. The King, liking the potential that he saw, promised Camden I a substantial title, should he be deemed capable of succeeding Lord James.

Camden, being still younger than old Lord James, effectively took control of House James, as the old lord did not have a proper male heir. The old lord passed the lands, and holding to Camden upon his death. Having been exposed to the high courts in The Old Dominion, Camden passed on that knowledge to his successor, Camlion. Camlion was raised to understand that politics is a treacherous slope. One must tread with caution but also be brave for his people's sake. Camlion, taking his father's words to heart, moved the house's seat from Ohio back to Chicago and established Citadel of the Lakes. Camlion, young and full of ambition, continued to leverage the path his father had laid before him and continued to amass wealth for his house. As the second generation to an upstart house, murmurs were bound to sprout up about the competency and potential changes that Camlion was going to bring. Camlion, being a forward-thinker, started forging an alliance with the western frontier. Sending emissaries, missionaries, and other friendly scouts, Camlion made his presence known amongst the tribesmen as a even-minded and fair leader. Small skirmishes still rose, but Camlion dealt with them with as little bloodshed as possible, often preferring to broker peace through trade rather than wielding iron.

The prophecy of Lady Starlinea rang true as Camlion is currently Lord of the Lakelands through the acts of his father who was declared heir to House James... The sons of Camden I would continue to rule the Lakelands for as long as the starts shone at night.

Another major event was the War of Seventy Five. A 'civil war' of sorts that took place 100 years ago between factions within House Brewer. Lysander Brewer, cousin to Camden I, thought he should take the seat at Wind Castle and be the rightful lord of House Brewer. Camden, and Lysander, both in advanced age at this point, could not come to an amicable resolution of this issue. Lysander roused his household troops, and anyone who would like to share his 'spoils' and thought to march on Camden and forcibly take Wind Castle. Seventy five men, including Lysander and his son Lycon, marched on Wind Castle. Camden, seeing this farce from his bastion, called out to his cousin one last time, hoping for peace. When the troop did not stop, Camden ordered his archers to open fire on the men below, but spare Lysander and Lycon. The aftermath was obviously bloody, and with Camden taking zero casualty. Lysander, in his foolishness and madness, knelled and fell on his own sword. Lycon was banished to the Badlands as a result. Spies that brave the frontiers for House Brewer last reported that sons of Lycon had braved the wasteland that lie beyond the Dako Plains and was headed further west, in search of the fabled Celestial Empire of California, in search of riches and a force to take back what is rightfully theirs.

The life of Camland, son of Camlion, was quite uneventful. Camland was a born scholar, preferring the company of books and arts to people. Under his rule, House Brewer established the Museum of Fields, an emblematic display of the rich natural history of his lands and its people. He established many places of higher learning, including the establishment of the College of Greater Chicago, a place of higher learning that is ranked amongst the best in the Five Kingdoms.

Camden II, son of Camland, was born during a winter storm that seemed to have raged on for a fortnight. Born to starless nights and cloud-covered days, Camden II has carried the nickname of "Stormbringer" with him as he grew up. His father, Camland, has been bedridden for years now. At first, before Camden II's coming of age, Camland's counselors, some of his closest allies, ruled the lands in his stead while teaching young Camden II how to be a benevolent lord. Under their tutelage, Camden II grew strong, both intellectually and physically. Now, in his early twenties, Camland peacefully abdicated his seat at Citadel of the Lakes to his son, who some people have said to share the wisdom of Camland alongside the physical might of Camden I...

Head: Lord Camden "Stormbringer" Brewer II
Heirloom: "Jewel of the North Star" A prize given as a sign of peace from the Minnestar Tribes. An aquamarine gem of flawless quality, found in one of the great lakes. Currently inlaid into the pummel of the great axe used by Camden II.
Traits: Brewers are known to be fair-skinned, golden haired with piercing blue eyes. Typically, they are quiet friendly and are known to be great hosts of feasts.

Misc: Given the fact that half of House Ironwit was banished into the Badlands of the Dako Plains, House Brewer often serves as the first line of defense against the would be usurpers. Brewers are also known as clan of hardy people, unafraid of the cold they often endure.
-Received from trade with the Lakeland tribes, some weapons and perhaps even tools used by the highest ranking members of those who serve House Brewer are forged from a sacred metal, mined from the Northern reaches of the Minnestar. Colloquially known as Starmetal, and officially known as the Gift of the Morning Star, tools made from this rare metal are lighter, and more durable than their normal counterparts. Two-handed greatswords maybe wielded single-handedly, swings from a pickaxe feel much less taxing. However, these tools are not indestructible. Maintenance and care are still required. The raw form of this metal looks like typical iron ore, but with another unidentified metal woven within, giving it a shimmer like stars on the surface of a lake in twilight. Lords of House Brewer often send smiths and craftsmen to live with the tribes to learn their methods of refining this metal, but the process is still arduous. Grand smiths have spent years in their younger years in the harsh North to broaden their knowledge of this precious metal.
Quote:
"Ah, the Brewers. They surely live up to their name. The ales they brew are known far and wide for their subtle honey taste, and a refreshing finish, like a quick dip in a lake on a hot day"

-The blabbing of a local drunkard.

"What we know of the Brewers are that we have a peace treaty with them. We gave them our L'Étoile, they gave us His helm. But, if I had to wager a bet, I'd bet they're readying themselves to take our lands and harvest again..."

-Whisperings of Minnestar tribal chiefs, said with a slight tinge of contempt.

Old Glory - A House Divided (Knightly American houses, long after the end)

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