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Character sheet complete. Took the liberty of adding an appearance section, because I don't have a picture and there wasn't an appearance section in the original format.

Edit: I also changed some of his answers slightly. I figured a merchant background would give him a more refined vocabulary.
Character Sheet

Name: Gerald Arenar
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Nationality: Relunski

Occupation: Mercenary
Skills and Abilities: Gerald is an excellent swordsman and a decent shot with a bow. He is good at moving silently, and has a fair amount of knowledge when it comes to tracking and lockpicking. He is also familiar with the basics of trade and negotiating, and has a surprisingly refined vocabulary for a hired cutthroat.
Weaknesses: He makes no attempt to hide his callous attitude, making it difficult to gain allies or friends.

Appearance: Gerald stands at an imposing six foot five, with short, unkempt, dark blond hair, and some scraggly stubble for facial hair. He has a light skin tone with a slight tan, and dark green eyes. There is a scar running from under his left eye to the bottom of his cheek. He is physically well built from his long years of travel and combat, and has a few other scars located here or there across his body.

Equipment: Gerald is clad in a boiled leather vest, with steel shoulder plating and steel gauntlets. He wears a pair of leather pants, with padding over the thighs and groin, steel knee guards, steel greaves, and a pair of steel-toed leather boots, with a back-up pair of soft leather shoes when he needs to go sneaking. He has a shortbow and a quiver of twenty arrows slung on it his back, a steel longsword sheathed at his left hip, an ornate dagger with a long curved blade and a small emerald in the hilt sheathed on his chest, an ordinary dagger sheathed at his right hip, and a small knife hidden in his boot. In the way of miscellaneous gear, he has a coinpouch and a set of lockpicks, both kept secure on his right hip as well. Lastly, he also owns a brown riding horse named Alice, with saddlebags for his basic traveling supplies - rope, a bedroll, provisions, and so on.

Background: Gerald was born in Vesvolla. His mother and father were merchants, who owned a caravan which traveled from place to place selling its goods. From a young age, he was used to being on the move. His parents taught him to read and write, and about trade and negotiation, since he would be expected to one day follow after their footsteps. He had an older brother, but he passed away from sickness when Gerald was too young to remember them. His only other company consisted of the caravan guards, who he eventually talked into teaching him swordplay. He also spent a great deal of time reading through his mother's collection of books.

Although they mostly did their business in Relunski, occasionally they passed into Drunnic or Jarlton territory, whenever a particular foreign beverage, spice, or outfit was in fashion back in Relunski's capital. As a result, he had a rather worldly background.

Unfortunately, the merchant's lifestyle was not to last. When he was fourteen, the caravan was making its way through the Shimmering Woods. His mother had cautioned his father against the route, but he believed it would be a quicker route through the Drunnic and Relunski kingdoms. They soon came across a tree blocking the road. As the guards attempted to clear it, half of them were struck down by arrows, and then a dozen men charged out from both sides of the road equipped with swords and hatchets.

It was then that a smaller party of perhaps three bandits came behind the caravan. Gerald's father drew his sword and managed to fight off and kill one, but the other two quickly put blades near Gerald and his mother's throats. As the man holding Gerald commanded his father to surrender, his hand drifted away slightly, allowing Gerald to bite into it, and Gerald's father seized the opportunity to run the man through. But the bandit holding Gerald's mother cut her throat.

Meanwhile, the caravan guards were clearly losing, and threw down their weapons in surrender. Gerald's father ordered him to run, and then with a cry of rage he attacked his mother's killer, the two engaging in a vicious swordfight. Gerald, covered in blood and scared out of his mind, complied, fleeing into the woods. He took one last look behind him just in time to see the bandit's face as he cut his father down - it was a face he would never forget.

He walked for several days. Every now and then he would find a berry bush, and that would keep him going, but he was hungry. Eventually he was ambushed by another group of bandits. Seeing his fine, albeit dirty clothes, they figured he had something of value or would be worth a ransom. He managed to put up quite a fight, giving one a black eye and knocking out another before he himself was knocked out. The bandits soon discovered he had nothing, but the leader had been impressed with his courage and fighting prowess, believing he had potential, and offered him a place in their ranks.

With nowhere to go and nothing left to his name, he reluctantly accepted, falling into the lifestyle of a brigand. They further trained him in the art of swordsmanship, but also took the time to train him with bows and knives. He learned how to track both people and wildlife, looting caravans, ambushing travelers, and hunting and foraging for food. It was a rough lifestyle, but eventually he learned to accept it, and the bandit leader was almost like a father to him.

New members came and went. Some would die in combat or to sickness, others would leave or get killed by a rival in the company (and if the person who did the killing was caught, they would be killed in return), but there would always be new faces to replace them - soldiers who deserted, criminals who had been forced to flee into the wild, travelers with nowhere else to go, they came from a variety of background. But when he was around twenty years old, there was one member he simply could not accept.

It was the man who killed his father all those years ago. But rather than immediately react, Gerald remained silent. The man didn't recognize him - why would he? He waited until nightfall, and when everyone was asleep and Gerald posted on watch duty, he knifed the man in his sleep, packed up his equipment and provisions, and left.

The band of brigands mainly operated within the Shimmering woods, and they would not care enough about the new recruit to follow Gerald once he had made it out. So, he left, heading back towards Relunski. From there on, he carved out his own path. He found employment and coin wherever he could, from working as a hired thug for loan sharks or street gangs, spending time in mercenary companies, taking on freelance work, and in particularly desperate cases full-on thievery. He spent time traveling all across the land, but recently his travels have took him back to the city where his life began.

Yeah, sure, I'm interested. I'll write up a character tomorrow.
@Not Fishing I pmd you, you get it?


Not sure why you couldn't just say that here.

Anyways, if you did indeed get permission to have that island, I suppose there's nothing I can do about that. Lorewise though, I would like to know how your nation managed to settle that island before mine did.
The Royal Palace

The Royal Council chambers were usually vacant, save for a handful of guards meant to keep watch over the room. It was arguably the most boring post in the entire palace. Rows upon rows of empty seats, and before them were five thrones - the largest one in the middle, and made from solid gold, while the others were smaller and made out of silver. Three of the thrones were intended for the Dukes, and the fourth was intended for the Grandmaster Cleric. The largest one was meant for a King. The surrounding walls had massive murals depicting significant moments throughout Gara's history.

But today was different. The King, the three Dukes, and the Grandmaster Cleric all sat upon their thrones. The other seats were filled, from the highest Counts at the front and the lowest Knights at the back, the latter of which were allowed to observe but not speak. A few clergymen were placed here or there, having accompanied the Grandmaster Cleric. With so many important leaders gathered in one location, he ordinary guardsmen were replaced by the King's personal elite bodyguards, in much greater numbers.

Such meetings were only called during a crisis; a declaration of war, a rebellion, an assassination, a plague. But the crisis they faced today was entirely different. Many of the nobles whispered among themselves, nervously.

King Edward Veliath was approaching his thirties, but if not for his short light brown beard he could easily pass for a man in his early twenties. His eyes were a dark green, and his hair short and neatly combed. An ornate golden crown rested upon his head, and he was clad in a ceremonial robe befitting the occasion.

He stood, and raised a fist into the air. The room fell quiet. The King lowered his arm to his side, and then he spoke. "We have all heard the rumors coming from the south." He announced. "This... Colour, some have been calling it. An entire kingdom reduced to lunacy and ashes. We know not it's origin, but..."

The Grandmaster Cleric, Horatio Thaddeus, clad in his ceremonial religious attire, leaped to his feet and raised his fist in the air, requesting to speak. Although it wasn't explicitly forbidden to do so whilst the King was already speaking, it was considered extremely rude. The unexpected gesture briefly caught the King off guard, and his eyes narrowed at the insolent priest, who was only allowed to be seated there on account of tradition. Many in the room were equally caught off guard.

Nevertheless, the King continued his speech. "...but the Kingdom of Gara has stood strong for centuries, and weathered many a crisis. Whatever affliction has struck the land, we shall not succumb to it! The Protecter has guarded us since the beginning of time, and will continue to do so, for we are the true faithful - even if the rest of world is to fall prey to this madness, we will endure!"

Considering the seriousness of the occasion, it would be rude to cheer. However, the polite applause that would normally accompany such a speech was more akin to an audience that had just witnessed a theatrical masterpiece. The Grandmaster Cleric, however, remained standing with his fist raised, and the clergymen who had arrived with him most noticeably refrained from clapping.

Eventually, the applause faded. And although Thaddeus had already committed a great breach of etiquette by requesting to speak in the middle of another's speech, the King would be seen as even worse if he refused to acknowledge him. "Grandmaster Cleric." The King began at last, sitting back down on his throne. "You may speak."

The Cleric lowered his fist and cleared his throat. "You speak of the Creator as if you know his intentions, or are capable of interpreting his actions... but that is falsehood." He accused, which was accompanied by a large number of raised eyebrows and even a handful of gasps. "Only we..." he gestured to himself and the other priests, "...have even the barest understanding of His goals. The reality is that our One True Lord grows tired. The rest of the world has turned its back upon him." He paused, allowing the more fervently religious nobles to nod along - Duke Edwick among them. Others had bored expressions - it was nothing they had not yet heard before. Duke Torrin looked to be on the verge of falling asleep.

"But the Heretics are not the only ones at fault!" The Grandmaster Cleric suddenly spoke up again, his voice booming and immediately drawing back the attention of anyone who had begun to already tune out. "Our entire nation is to blame as well, for our failure to educate them! To bring them back to the Light! Indeed, there are many among us who are beginning to stray as well!" His eyes scanned the room, settling on well-known womanizers or those who had helped strip the Church of its power in the past. "It is this lack of Faith, that has allowed the Creator's power to wane! So much that the Destroyer has managed to slip past His guard and strike His creation! His infernal Taint has infected the land, and the only way to stop its spread is for the Creator to regain his strength, to one again have the support of his Creations, so that he may drive the Evil back! To that end, we must find these nonbelievers and educate them!" By this point his voice had turned into a yell.

The entire room was stunned. No one had expected such an outburst - not from a position that was barely even politically relevant these days. The Grandmaster Cleric slowly sat back down on his throne, his expression grim, but King Veliath and Duke Wilhelm were close enough to see him fighting off a smile. Duke Torrin was more shocked than anything else, while Duke Edwick was fully taken in by the Thaddeus's words.

Then, at once, several nobles stood, fists raised, each wishing for their turn to speak. With so many standing, not all of them would receive the chance to speak, so they did not wait for permission, and all spoke at once - either in protest or support of the Cleric's words. A reasonable few were offering suggestions of their own - secure the borders, send scouting parties to view the afflicted lands, and researchers to study it, but they were drowned out.

Sir Gerald and Sir Gareth, who had been seated next to each other, exchanged glances. While the King called for order, Sir Gareth whispered. "It would seem that His Holiness has found an opportunity to claw his way back into power." He suggested. Although they came from entirely different backgrounds, held entirely different careers, and were knighted for entirely different reasons, they had somehow become friends.

Sir Gerald could only nod. "Indeed." He stated in a gruff voice, rubbing a hand against his scarred chin, where an Alban blade had missed his throat by mere inches. "And if he has his way, we'll be in a holy war." He remarked bitterly. "Or he'll everyone bickering while the real threat nears our borders."

Unfortunately, neither of them could add their own opinions to the debate. The only reason they got away with speaking at all was because they could not be heard over the rest of the room. But eventually, the voices quieted, the nobles sat back down, and the King stood.

"We must stand united in the face of this crisis." He urged them. Since the Grandmaster Cleric was the highest ranking religious official, the King could not outright state that he was wrong on spiritual matters. Well, he could... but that generally prompted outrage. "Once again, we Garans are strong. We will endure. If the Grandmaster Cleric wishes to dispatch missionaries to convert the other nations, that is his right. But we will not force them to adopt the Creator's teachings against their will. In the meantime, the southern border is to be secured, scouts will be dispatched to the infected lands, and emissaries shall be sent to other nations to find out what they know. In the meantime, I task each and every one of you to lead your people well and stand by your countrymen." Then, before there could be any objection: "Council! Dismissed!"

With that, the meeting, perhaps one of the shortest in Garan history, was over.
@Ekreture I don't have Discord. Just say whatever you need to say here, or PM me.
@Not Fishing Yo we gots to talk


What about?
@Goldeagle1221

Posted my character sheet in the character tab.

Is it cool if I say my nation invented the train? That's early 1800s. I currently have it as something that is so recent, it isn't going to be widely used in Gara for decades. I would also be open to having it widely used in my nation, if that's okay, or removing it entirely if it is problematic. I just didn't see anyone mention their nation having trains.

@solamelike

Is it cool if my nation had a war with Alba twenty or so years ago, that concluded in a stalemate?
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