Natsucooldude — Roleplayer Guild

In the rought and tumble bustle of the blind mandrake, a furtive character cautiously pins a notice to the wall. It is a message many of the regulars have seen many times before

Reliable zailors wanted, come to lot 11 of wolfstack docks, leave your regrets and unfinished business at home.

The patrons of the portside alehouse sighed. Even those that aready knew they would be in line to apply. Traveling the Zee was far from a safe profession, but for many of them, it was the only thing they knew.

For other, naive sorts. It was a chance at adventure, discovery, perhaps even profit.

Now the question is...
Name: Perhaps a rather obvious question.
Moniker: Letting people know your real name is a vulnerability down here. Perhaps you would like to be referred to as sir or madam? Or perhaps more egalitarian terms. Maybe you wish your profession to be your identifying trait, or some quality of your personality? Why not both? Take the sardonic bartender for example. He has never let so much as a scrap of his name slip. Not even so much as an initial.

Appearance: Everyone knows you measure a person's worth by their clothes. How do you look? Gentlemanly and well-cultured? Furtive and shadowy? Perhaps you prefer people think you a brawny and dangerous individual?
Skills: Why would a prospective zee captain want to take you along out to zee. Yes, perhaps you are a great opera singer, but that is of no consequence when a gargantuan zee-beast is winding up to break the hull in two.

Secret: Of couse, no one would ask you to cough up your deepest, darkest secrets, but it would be good to know some scraps. Perhaps you displeased someone or something and are looking for atonement. Or maybe the zee holds answers to a question you have been trying to answer your whole life? Really, just a scrap of this knowledge would be enough.

Name: Adrian Balcer
Title(s): The golden cavalier

Patron God: The winged general , sigil is a golden eagle holding a lance and shield
Patrons Domain: Warfare

Aspect of Patrons Domain: Cavalry

Appearance:Adrian is a strong man of well-toned musculature. He stands at 1 meter 75 and weighs in at 90 kilograms of muscle and bad temper. He has black hair and green eyes. The eyes flare up with a golden glow when Adrain exerts his supernatural power.
General Apparel:Always dressed in uniform, Adrian's ensemble consists of a segmented platemail breastplate emblazoned with the sigil of the winged general, Relatively standard greaves and sabots, and A decorated helmet that quite resembles the beak of a bird of prey.
Armor/Weapons/Equipment:Adrian is encased in the aforementioned armor, along with a shield in his left arm.. When it comes to weapons, he primarily wields a winged lance gifted to him by his patron. The lance is a weapon of great power, when it is brought to bear on an enemy, sparks of lightning envelop the head. It is however, still a weapon unfit for close-quarters combat. For this purpose, Adrian also has a cavalry saber of comparable quality.
Magical/Divine Abilities:At Adrian's beckon, he can summon a phantasmal horse of golden light. This horse is not a living entity of its own, but simply a manifestation of Adrain's power. It is for all intents and purposes a trained warhorse otherwise. It shows absolute loyalty to its summoner and has strength and endurance to rival even the hardiest and strongest breeds of mortal horses.

Personality:Adrian is a boisterous and confident individual. He believes himself to be a peerless cavalier and one of the best warriors of the world. This worldview is unsurprising given little has ever happened to challenge the notion. He sees the world as a place filled with corruption and injustice, to be crushed under the hooves of his horse for the cause of good. He himself is of course an incorruptible warrior and defender of the innocent.

Likes:Justice, respect, adoration and honorable combat.
Dislikes: Cowardice, injustice , people that give in to despair.
Fears: The idea of enemies that cannot fall to the sword
Aspirations:To become an unstoppable force of good, destined to drive evil from the world forever.

Relationships: None that would be relevant to the task at hand
Allies:His patron. Also the great warriors of the steppes, who consider him the avatar of the golden general. Not that it will matter down in hell.
Enemies:  As a demigod, he stands opposed to the pearled one, god of deserts and fire, and patron to the peoples that tore down an old empire. It was Adrian who led the charge that broke the desert hordes spine forever, and he has never been forgiven for it.
Loyalties:Adrian has a strict adherence to hierarchy and will often try to form a rudimentary one when he's out of his element.He expects obedience from those 'below' him, but will bow to those he considers his superior. As he is a warrior without peers, one could see how this could become a problem.

History: Adrian began his life as the son of a peasant farmer. Life was simple, days passed in a routine. Every autumn the lords came for their rightful part of the harvest, every winter they would remain with more than enough to survive with.

And then, as is often the case, things changed. In this case, the change was the coming of war. This was Adrain's fifteenth year. It seemed like nothing but yet another distant event  until the autumn came again. This time the part of the harvest taken was quite a bit larger. for the good of the country. They said. The winter was harsh and ruthless that year. With stubborn hardiness, Adrian and his family survived. They were not particularly angry. After all, only a fool would argue against how these things always went. In that same vein, they also did not complain when the army came back in the summer, demanding Adrian pack his belongings and throw himself into the merciless machine of war. He had been raised a proud countryman, so there were little complaints. He said goodbye to his parents, who looked at him leave with pride... And perhaps also a bit of worry, but was such not to be expected of concerned and wholesome parents?

War was an unkind master to Adrian. The mellow routine of country life was a sharp contrast of the iron-hard discipline in the army. No longer did he wake up to the sound of birds singing. No longer could he loiter in the fields when his work was done. Those things had been replaced with signal horns and barracks respectively. Still, the discipline forged him from an easygoing country kid to a disciplined soldier. Always orderly walking in lockstep along his comrades.

Of course, as a peasant, he was far from worthy of riding the mighty steeds that the Royal cavalry used. Nevertheless, he was always impressed to see them in action. The way in which they scattered the enemy as a single unit. Somehow, he survived a full year of war as a simple foot soldier. And it was on the eve of the last battle of the year that his destiny came calling.

It was but a spur of the moment. The general was thrownout of the saddle by an opportunistic enemy, and Adrian was close enough to intercede. As a footstool's, all he was armed with was a spear and his training. Despite this, he threw himself between his superior and the enemy cavalry. Call it skill, call it luck, but despite his inferior equipment and unfavorable position, he managed to drive his spear through the cavalier leading the charge.

It was like a sea parting. The sight of their commander getting impaled by a mere commoner sowed the seeds of doubt amongst the sand-people. And the quick counterattack only served to further sow panic amongst their ranks. Adrian's act of spontaneous heroism had earned him both the attention and the respect of the top commanders. And so they granted his one wish. To serve as a cavalryman.

Of course, there was some opposition to the idea of a commoner riding in the cavalry, but few complained. After all, no one wanted to be that one guy who complained about the hero that had saved the day.

Winter came, and the war ground to a halt. It was a time of training, of regrouping, and of reunions with family dearly missed. At first, they did not recognize the proud mounted man clad in armor. But then they realized this man was their son, hardened in the crucible of war.

Though he could only see them for a week, it was a week of rejoicing. Of simple happiness, and of excited tales of the prestige and power he had earned by his hard work alone. He reveled in the pride his parents showed, and why should he not. He had gone above and beyond the call of duty to the country.

At the week's end. Adrian whispered a goodbye to his home for a second time and dutifully returned to the field of battle. His comrades in arms were already waiting for him. The first engagement with the enemy was marked by a favorable wind in the back. The day ended on what would be a year of fortune and victory.

Adrian's part in this year of conquest was large. He had grown to become respected by his peers and his superiors. Always leading the charge, always boldly breaking through where no normal man would even consider attacking. Even though he was of lowborn blood, heralds and bards sung of his exploits all the same.

Now, wars in this time were often short affairs, not often taking longer than a year or two. Despite this, the enemy did not want to give up the rich lands they were being driven from without a fight. A last stand was made The sultan himself had come to bolster his troops morale.

When the horns of battle sounded, Adrian's purpose became clear more than ever. He spurred his horse onwards into a charge. He leveled his lance to striking height and drove it through the ranks of infantry, through the cavalry that he had clashed with so often, and finally through the heart of the sultan himself.

His leading the charge had profoundly broken the sand-people. In mass, they abandoned their position. They ran for their lives even as they were scythed down by the dozen by Adrian and his comrades. Nevermore would they have to fear the menace from the desert.

And it was victorious and resplendent that they marched into the city they had come to liberate. The people sang praises to the victorious army. After all, they had been as slaves to the oppressors from the desert, and now they would be free. Leading the victory parade was Adrian himself, Helmeted and stoic, he silently basked in the glory.

The evening was long and loud. The victorious men partied the night away, drunk as much on their victory as they were on the fine wines of the city. Adrian partook in the celebrations, but rather humbly so for one of his rank. He had not forgotten about his humble origins. At least not at this time.

That morning, Adrian went to marvel at the wonders of the city he had helped liberate. For some reason, he felt himself called to the great temple in the center of the city. Clerics and priests were hard at work casting away the heretical symbols of the sand-people's heathen god. The great domed temple would soon be restored in its old glory.

He found himself in the middle of the temple when the priests unfurled a great and impressive tapestry. A gust of wind catched it and stretched it to its full length. Something vast and mighty could be felt in the temple. The sun stood high in the sky, and the rays of light shining through the stained-glass windows all converged in the middle of the temple. Everyone else felt what was happening too. Everyone kneeled, like a soldier showing respect to their superior. Though Adrian did not fall completely to the ground. He knew in his heart... His valor and determination had made him as an equal.

It was that day the golden general of the steppe peoples bequeathed a spark of his power on a follower most favored by him.

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