„Atop a Golden Hill, born from pebbles, serene and still, the Stags Rest settles.”The Queen of Arlon, a small but stable kingdom or queendom if you will, has recently been exiled from her own castle by her brother, the illegit king Godwin the Free. He has seized control over the country but foolishly allowed the former Queen to keep one of her assets: the castle of Stags' Rest. Because of her surrender once Godwin seized the throne, she was allowed to remain alive. But anyone with eyes and ears still fair can understand her intentions.
The Iron Company had been hired by the queen, lady Isolde II of Morgreta, and had ever since taken to the barracks of the Stags' Rest, forming the Queens Guard in the progress. They donned the shiniest armors now, and were 'knights.' Upon their shields and capes, the Queens Guard's symbol was emblazoned, an Iron Tree to symbolise the steadfastiness of the guard. Their quarters are luxurious for the standards of the Iron Company, but lady Isolde herself has promised them that the quarters they'll receive once they take back her crown will be even greater. Their payment is royal for their standards, too, but Isolde has also promised that they will receive a full chest of golden coins each for those that survive the campaign. And perhaps the best part, every members of the Queens Guard shall receive a keep of his own or at the very least a grand estate in the capital city, in name of Lady Isolde herself.
But they have a long way to go yet, as most of the former lords who swore fealthy to queen Isolde have now taken an oath of fealthy with the new 'King' and as such most of her army has switched sides. This will be hard to steer back to the old ways, as your inauguration into 'knighthood' has left many aristocrats and nobles disgruntled that commoners and swords-for-hires can become noble, like them.
The Iron Tree, the Queen's Guards' emblem
The Keep and it's surroundings
The Stags' Rest is an idyllic and medium sized keep atop a golden hill of green-yellowish grass. It's walls are thick and strong, though few in numbers. The castle itself is located within these walls, and ofcourse connected to them. The castle walls are five in total, shaped like a pentagon. It has a three medium sized towers on the three walls facing the backside of the hill, and two big towers on the front, next to the gatehouse. The courtyard is sizeable, with a small training square and archery targets, and a stable large enough for about 8 horses. Next to the stable is the queens own carriage, although it is beautiful, the recent events have ensured they are covered in mud and blood.
There are no secret passages leading into or out of the keep, as this would be rather stupid to make if an enemy found out. However, there are small dungeons underneath the castle itself. There are aproximately five cells, but each is large enough to fit about 6 people in without any problems. Taking slaves after a battle or a raiding of a village is after all allowed. Other rooms in the castle include a rather royal dining room, with a set of two large tables who can each fit 20 people. The decoration on the walls here is luxurious for Iron Company standards, but for the Queen it's not so fitting as the ornaments include weaponry crossed with a shield over them, to hunting prizes including the head of a stag and a bear. The firepit here is rather large as to keep the entire room warm during dinners, and also to cook soup or keep soup warm.
The queens quarters are small for her standards, but fit a royally sized bed, and nice red pillows and a red blanket. There are two guards standing outside at all times -- she's the queen after all. Her own armor set is placed on a mannequin here and her own equipment and weaponry is exhibited here as well, though many men question if she has ever used them. It seems to be mostly ceremonial or for status. However none can deny that seeing her in that set of armor is breath taking and sure to boost morale if you see her in it.
The throne room is also quite grande, but once again looks more like that of some lord than that of a queen. The throne is solid oak, with the head of a stag carved into both the upper two corners of the chair. The sides of the throne, where you lay your hands to rest, end in a lions head on both sides. In front of the throne you'll find a large red carpet, though it has become dusty and stained over the years.
Further surroundings of the village include a lot of fields, flat and sometimes rolling hills. There are a lot of forested areas too, which provide plenty of game to hunt for the village that finds itself settling next to the Tyne river that runs through the queens lands. The village consists mainly of farmers and serfs, a blacksmith and some merchants, but nothing of real interest is sold here. If you want armor and weaponry you'll have to travel to the city, but that's hardly possible as you're a queens guard, and that'll likely result in your death no matter how lethal you are.
The village has a small guard, a militia. It cooperates closely with the castle guards, and received some light training from them -- but this is never enough to fully stop a raid. And while the castle guards are well armed and armored due to the relative wealth of the queen, they are not the most professional soldiers since they mostly spent their time watching for enemies, and barely any time fighting these enemies. That, and Stags' Rest hasn't been attacked for over five years now so they haven't gotten any exercise.
A castle guard, keeping watch at the gatehouse
The Iron Company
The Iron Company is a company of mercenaries, born from the hands of Aethel Oakshield. But Aethel has long since passed and all that remains of him is the idealogy of the Iron Company. This company doesn't hire mercenaries or hire recruits, they take in all those that wish to join -- cooks, servants, warriors or slaves, it's all accepted -- and makes them equal within the company as long as they pull their weight. Disputes are settled by the leader of the company, who is referred to as
'The Bear' to represent his strength and prowess in battle. If the Bear decides that a dispute cannot be settled by him alone due to either the size or the matter at hand just being too complex, that dispute is generally settled by a fistfight or a duel -- whether that duel is to the death is up to those that take part. He is assisted by
'The Stag' who is an officer like the Bear, except he holds less power.
Below the Bear is
the Boars, the main staying force of the group. These are the warriors and the real mercenaries. However they are also all that are involved in the Iron Company, such as caretakers, medical personnel (as mediocre as medical technology was at this point) and the people that carry equipment. And while they are 'lower' than the Stag and Bear this doesn't mean that they are less strong or smart -- they are simply not the Stag nor the Bear, but a Boar. This is not good, nor bad, this is just fact.
However now that the Iron Company has been made into the Queens Guard, there have been some minor changes. For one, they are now a knightly order, and are expected to behave as such. Members need to prove that they are capable of showing royal etiquette at time, a change which many of them will find hard. Second of all, they'll have a steady employer that they need to be loyal to -- where as before they could walk away from any employer, they need to stick with the queen this time around.
Characters and sheets
Joachim Metleburg
'Sine labore nihil'Full name: Joachim Markus Metleburg
Titles: 'Blue'
Rank: Boar.
Age: 23.
Gender: Male.
Appearance: 
Personality: Joachim is one of those people that just sits quietly, drinks his ale and has a nice conversation with his mates. The 'throw a chair at a guy and start a barfight' mentality is one that he does not posses, strangely enough for the Iron Company is home to many many of these people. His relative calmth is explained through his history as a squire, but that's not to say that he was always this calm. Rather, he has become more agressive, just not as much as the rest. He fits in rather well with the royalties due to his history amongst their ranks, yet his lack of blueblood is enough to keep the normal folks from pestering him too much.
History: Joachim is what one might call a blue-blooded bastard, except he isn't blue of blood. His family used to be serfs on a royal lords estate, within Arlon, and served the lord many years. When Joachims' father heard the news of his wife being with child, he asked the lord that ruled over them to take the child in if it were a boy, and to teach him the ways of a nobleman. Normally these kind of requests were insane, but their lord was a kind lord who was without child -- his wife had birthed him only daughters and these had been married off long ago, save one of them. The lords wife was indeed with child again, and a seer had told her it'd be a girl. Normally these prophecies came true, though the reasonings behind the prophecies remain 'secret' and are largely based on luck. Many seers have lost their heads for giving untrue prophecies, in that regard. The lords' daughter was barely a month old when Joachim came to earth, blessed be He himself who touched the child upon birth saving him from the death that fell upon his mother.
The lord had promised to come back upon his promise to the father in 16 years, when both Joachims' father and the lord had grown old and feeble. Still, the lord had had no male children and sent a messenger for Joachim. After a dinner with the lord himself, he decided that Joachim was fit to be a part of their family. He married the girl, whom was very pretty and a fair wife to Joachim. The marriage was good, but dull. Yet one day the lord called upon Joachim to take to the sword, as one of the lords within the kingdom had seen fit to declare their castle as theirs, based on ancient treaties that were obviously not real. They marched against one another, warband against warband. Joachim fought as part of the lords personal guard, the best of the best, on horseback. Though he fought well, his steed fell in battle due to a stray spear being aimed his way, and he fell to the ground amidst the battle. Once he got up he was to defend himself against a multitude of opponents, the only allies in sight being a few militiamen who rushed to Joachim's aid because of his friendly attitude towards the commoners. Together they drove back the enemy, which consisted of mainly hired sellswords. They had won the day but not the war, and soon after a second company of mercenaries faced off against the warband.
They fought well but were ultimately bested by the enemies numbers, forced to retreat to the castle and hole out until further notice. But they laid siege for six months, and for six months they suffered of famine and disease. The enemy was about to launch an attack after receiving reinforcements and torching the outlying village, including Joachim's fathers homestead. Right before the attack was to begin the lord raised a white flag from his keep and the soldiers were ordered to stand down and surrender. Due to this, the lord managed to spare their lives. But not his own. He was beheaded in the courtyard of the castle, his daughter and Joachim's wife following after that and ultimately the lords wife had to suffer the same fate. And though his wife was dead, Joachim did not mourn for he never loved her and she never loved him, it was merely a deal between two parents. And he was thankful to the lord for making that deal, but ultimately 20 year old Joachim had to decide for himself what to do.
He wandered the lands of Arlon, offering his services as a hedge knight and attending jousting and swordfighting tournaments, and making a name for himself. Where ever he went he was met with considerable hospitality, as he did not only offer entertainment for noblemen and royalties, but also offered some information that he'd gathered from other places he had visited beforehand. Never asking a price for the information, the information was always info that one could get without his help as well. Simple things, like a certain road being plagued by bandits. A few years later, 23 year old Joachim had joined up with the Iron Company, no longer being a hedge knight but a sellsword. However these words are meaningless, and covet two sides of the same swords. Whilst he wasn't present during the famous battle in which the Bear died, he remembers the battle well as he was told of it the day after by a weary traveller, causing him to seek out these mercenaries and join their ranks in order to earn some fame and coin to his name.
Skills: Joachim is a skilled swordsman, not one of the best but he can definetely hold his own. The combination of a shield and sword lie him exceptionally well and his position in the spearhead of the mercenary band benefits this even more so. He is at his best when he is supported by a spearman from behind, to poke at whatever hole Joachim opens in the enemies defense.
Besides his swordsmanship he can handle a mace or flail just as well, dependant on the circumstances or his mood. He is quite able to take prisoners without killing them or bashing a face in, so this is pretty useful for when they need to earn some coin by collecting slaves. Besides this he is an able rider, though he lacks a horse at this moment. He rides like a nobleman, straight up in his saddle rather than hunched over like some commoner would. Seated in a steed he looks exceptionally good, too, one might say.
Dreams and fears: Be known in the kingdom of Arlon as an honorable knight, gain a name and an estate for himself too. He wishes to gain political status within Arlon, and through that wishes to further the knighthood, to reinstate values such as being noble, virtuous and other such things. His fears are seeing Arlon fall to whatever kingdom surrounds them, his love for the country being quite great. He doesn't seem to care who is at the head of Arlon, but believes that Arlon is such a good country that they should be sovereign.
Favored equipment: He wears a rather large shoulder pauldron on his left shoulder, being made of steel. To ensure that he doesn't get pains from the steel plate pauldrons he has padded leather underneath with some straps running across it so he can tighten it or loosen it. Under that is chainmail for some more protection. His lower arm guards are steel plate as well, but they don't cover his hands. He wears a tabbard over his chainmail body piece, with the Iron Tree emblazoned on it. Many belts and buckles run over this tabard, some being home to straps for him to attach a knife or another weapon to. His chainmail body piece reaches to his middle, with padded leather extending to just above his knees. He wears burgundy linnen pants underneath his set of armor, with high leather boots extending up until the half of his shins. [Refer to his appearance for his look -- it's exactly that.]
As mentioned before, Joachim prefers a sword, flail or mace, being quite good with these three weapons but favoring none above the other. His choice is purely circumstancial and he isn't the best at these weapons by a long shot. Though he primarily goes for the sword, which is a larger type of bastard sword that he uses with one hand, a knightly shield in the other hand. This shield has an iron rim around it, holding it together. The front of the shield has both the Queens insignia and heraldics on it, as well as an iron tree below those heraldics.
(Theodore McKrubnick)
(To the victor go the spoils)
Full name: Theodore "Theo" Johannes McKrubnick
Titles:
Rank: Boar
Age: Old
Gender: Male
Appearance: Theodore is a man you can take up in one glance, he is a fighter no matter from what angle you look at him. If the scar on his cheek doesn't tell you this you will find out by the absence of his left side pink and ring finger. His copper hair is kept short, mostly to hide the graying parts around his temple. Together with the colour of his hair his facial features closely resemble that of a fox or likewise k9 creature. He has an average height, but the width of his shoulders suggest some brawn power hides in his body.
As far as clothing go Theodore likes to keep things simple and easy. A plain hauberk and quilted pants in earthly tones seem to be a recurring outfit of his. The pair of leather boots are probably the only ones he owns by the look of wear and tear on them.
Personality: Respects authority, calculating, easy to anger at the mention of certain topics. Has a passion for women and brawling.
History: Born to a family that tended to nobles; Theo's live had little to want for in the way of food and clothing. He was the middle child of five, an older brother and sister and a younger couple of the same paring. His father was an honest and hard working man to the nobles, at home he would often let his frustrations out on the boys. Never the girls though, they were more precious to him. Growing up Theo would learn how to please his father, as a result he would get less of a beating then his brother; This however resulted only in gaining the resentment of his oldest brother, with who he would in turn have many a brawl with. His brother eventually became squire to a knight and left the home. This gave the boy the idea a similar destiny awaited him, but he would be disappointed, instead he was drawn to be part of the serving staff of the noble family. As he started to become more of a man some of the chamber maidens where only left with maiden in their title. The experiences suffered at his father's hand had made him weary of punishment and he would go about his business as discretely as was humanly possible.
One day a mercenary band entered town. Theo got intrigued by some of their customs and joined in on a few brawls. During one of these his opponent bit of Theo's ring finger, the wound festered and later he was forced to give up his pink too; unless he would rather have lost his entire hand. He became friendly with some of the mercenaries and tried to give them left over spoils, one day however his supervisor discovered this and had Theo chastised for it. There and then the young man decided that the castle live didn't suit him very much and Theo disappeared together when the Iron Company moved on. The only thing connecting him to his past is the brand that was left on his shoulder blade, the scar looks like a flame with four sticks pointing outwards.
Skills: Is naturally stealthy, has a sharp mind.
Dreams and fears: Theodore fears that one day he might come across his older brother again. As a contradiction to this, if that happens he dreams that he will be the one to kill him.
Favored equipment: Theodore favours the use of a bastard sword in combination with a buckler. Since a buckler is strapped to the arm rather then held by it he can more easily turn his handicap; provided by his missing digits, into extra blade strength if needed.
Extra: Likes to hunt game during his down time, this is not saying he is the best huntsman there is, but it helps him hold his temper in check.
Guinand Ludel Hallé
“A steady shot beats a hasty swing.”
Full name: Guinand Ludel Hallé
Titles: ‘Ladle-maid’
Rank: Soldier
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Appearance: Guinand has a somewhat elongated face. The crown of his head has begun balding for his early age, though he usually covers it with a hood. His nose is long and slightly hooked downwards. His eyes are relaxed and peaceful. Laugh lines have begun to manifest on his face, disguising a small scar running from the corner of the right nostril towards the right corner of his mouth. Guinand has a messy, unkempt beard, sable in color. Like his beard, Guinand’s hair is too sable. His bushy eyebrows seem to create an overhang for his eyes to take refuge underneath.
Personality: Naive, and always partially distracted, Guinand rarely creates attachment to the current situation he finds himself in. He tends to shrug off most insults aimed at him, which tends to be often. Guinand is tends to warm up to people he has grown to know closely, which are not many. The solitary conditions of his life had led him to respond in general with an aloof demeanor. He struggles to create attachment to anything in particular, but once he does he will fight fervently for that which he values.
History: Guinand was born to a hunter and a nun. Guinand came about to the world due to his father’s lack of good judgement. Richard, as that was his father’s name, fell in love with with a woman named Guinevere. Likewise Guinevere had fallen for Richard, but alas she was a nun. Though their meeting was strictly something to be condemned, nevertheless they found ways to meet. Richard, who likewise was a hunter, used to deliver a portion of the meat collected to the convent(as the local lord had instructed, for the lord’s wife had taken a liking to the local convent). It was Guinevere who used to meet him to collect the gift. As their forbidden love began to grow, so too did it raise more and more eyebrows. It was by luck that they were not found out. Yet though men did not snuff them out, Guinevere felt more and more guilty as she broke the oaths she had taken more and more openly. Yet Richard reassured her their love was more real than archaic rules.
Then one night Richard stole her away. She had been afraid to do something so rash, but Richard, ever smiling, reassured her. He told her that her life at the convent would never do. That she would forever sit behind walls, reminiscing about him. So she caved. Both fled into the forest under the cover of a starless night. Richard knew that someone would piece together the clues, after all, it wouldn’t be too hard to do so. Likewise Richard gave in to banditry and unsavory behavior. Nothing overt, but simply stealing from farmers and hunting on the lord’s land at unusual hours as to avoid detection. Corruption had overtaken both lovers. Soon enough Guinevere was with child. On the night she gave birth, she felt all her shame, all her guilt come over her. She was an oathbreaker. She was in a relationship with a man whom she was not married to. Her family had disowned her, and she was left living as a wild animal. In all her sudden thoughts her heart broke, and then did Guinevere die during childbirth.
Richard, could do nothing but watch. Watch as the life slipped out of his love’s body. All Richard had now was this child, but his heart could not bear to carry on. For even though he was not dismissive of a life of less than pius in attribute, he still had passion in his heart. In the wake of that night, Richard whisked the away and left him in front of the monastery. For in his heart he thought that his child could perhaps redeem both of them in the eyes of their God. That by his servanthood, loyalty, and honor he could purchase a pardon for Guinevere. It was early that morning that a monk was praying fervently and walking the courtyard. As he came close the the front gates he heard the cry of a young babe. When he saw the infant he had pity on him. So the man took the babe and raised him as his own. Despite the initial backlash for raising a child belonging to God knows who, the monk appealed that any great saint can come from the lowliest of beginnings. His peers reluctantly approved upon one condition: that he must raise the child himself.
So was Guinand raised. His adoptive father never mentioned his name to Guinand, who only referred to him as ‘father’. Though his adoptive father did bestow upon him two things: patience and a name. Patience was an attribute important to Guinand in all his life: when he was meditating, or when he was hunting. The latter gave him a proper place, and a sense of belonging. But eventually, as it always is in life, the winds of change were blowing over Guinand’s life. So at the age of 16 he set out to ‘discover his calling’. His father, who was saddened greatly by this, saw that he could no longer hold onto this child he now knew as his own. So his father blessed him, and sent him out. Guinand was by then an able cook by the teaching of his father. But Guinand had no means by which to gain the meat to cook. By this need he bought himself a bow, and a quiver carrying arrows of respectable quality. The blood of Richard was great in Guinand. He learned how to use his bow effectively, but more importantly: he learned to trust it with his life. Living out in the world taught Guinand how to survey the land. How to note when the grass has been stamped by wildlife and when it has been walked on by humans. What caves were inhabited, how to build shelter, and how to skin an animal. Guinand, like Richard, learned what it meant to be self-sufficient. But unlike his father Guinand learned prudence and patience. But not all came without its price. Unlike Richard, Guinand was not so carefree. Indeed, monks do not make as great friends for a child as perhaps other children. So Guinand was always distant in his dealing with people. So he grew, daydreaming. He dreamed of a life that perhaps could change him towards his ideals. The years passed quickly to him, summer melted into winter, and back again. So when he heard of the Iron Company he decided that this life could perhaps offer him the chance to change himself, to shake off the past and become a new man.
Skills: Deadly shot, Exceptional tracker, Unusually patient,
Dreams and fears: Guinand dreams of perhaps rejoining society, of being what he idealizes as a normal and good man. He feels like an outcast, and he fears dying without completing his purpose, to die a life unfinished.
Favored equipment: A longbow which he carries on his back, along with a quiver that he carries on the left side of his waist. He wears a deerskin hood and cape over a cotton-white tunic(as it was the cheapest thing he could buy at the time). He also carries a small hunting knife that he uses for skinning on the right side of his belt. On his back he has a small pack to carry his essential needs: a waterskin, a tinderbox, a hatchet, and a few nondescript small items.
Extra: Guinand is left-handed. Earned his nickname for having once cooked a soup of exquisite taste (which was quite accidental, as Guinand was drunk.) to a group of hungry travellers.
Wren Ainsworth I don't need you, just your respect.Full name: Wren Faye Ainsworth
Titles: Little Bird (nickname from her father)
Rank: Boar
Age: 24
Gender: Female
Appearance: 
Personality: Before her father's death, Wren was a rather lovable being. She liked to drink and laugh and have fun. She enjoyed nature and all it elements. She could be freezing in the rain and find something positive to say. She was serious and driven, but never to the point of getting relentlessly perfectionist about herself or anyone else. After her father's death, this Wren has been covered with emotional scarring and built walls around. Nowadays, Wren is very quiet and closed off. She doesn't get close to the other men unless she has to for whatever reason, and she speaks in quick sentences. The only time she speaks several at a time is if she gets angry or if she becomes passionate about something, and she hasn't been passionate about much in a while. She isn't depressing, bringing everyone else down, but she is not the cheery girl she was before.
History: Paris Ainsworth was a soldier. No one knew if he’d ever been a child. All anyone knew about Ainsworth was that he was a blood soaked beast when he had to be, a stealthy mercenary when it was called for, and a bright leader always. He won the royal family’s favor for his undying loyalty and extreme focus on what matters lay at hand. His fellow soldiers respected him, even though he never celebrated a single victory. He was not the leader to sit and lift a glass once a task was completed, simply going to his quarters and shutting out the world. Everyone thought he was simply a warrior and nothing more. This is what led him to eventually become Bear among The Iron Company.
Things changed when one day a little girl, no older than 2 or 3 years, was sent to the Iron Company at the Keep. She had a piece of parchment with her, telling the story of her conception and birth, revealing Ainsworth to be her father. The man seemed in a daze for the first few weeks, but the small, blonde haired child who never cried, even when injured, who chased butterflies and fought off mice under their tables, who looked up at him with hazel eyes equal to his own and smiled, changed him.
Ainsworth learned to melt his heart, and became a better leader for it. He showed more compassion where it was needed. He showed more celebration with his men, earning even more of their trust. And he showed great love for his daughter, Wren. He brought her up the only way he knew how though, and that was as a soldier. When she was small, it was mostly fun and games. But by the time she reached eleven, he became harder on her. By the time she was 15, he demanded perfection in every aspect.
Wren wanted nothing more than to make her father proud. And being able to take on those in the Iron Company only made her feel she fit in more with the men. After all, she didn’t remember a time in her life when she was surrounded by female voices, only male. And she wanted to always be a part of that group. She still stuck out in some ways though. She certainly had better hygiene, and she couldn’t help her love of flowers and animals that followed her into adulthood, among other things. She could drink, but not like the men. And it’s not like she could sit around talking of perverted stories with them- she would get up and leave. She still kept most of her focus on being the perfect soldier though.
Her father was never prouder than the day Wren was accepted as a Boar in the Iron Company, able to work alongside his daughter truly. And Wren finally felt at home. Of course, some of the men accept her, and some don’t, not finding it a female’s place.
Wren’s world was turned upside down the day her father fell in battle. In was like her mind couldn’t comprehend it. She ignored the battle continuing on about her, trying to shake life back into his body, and the battle was lost. She didn’t care though. A part of her was empty. After his death, she didn’t say much, just going along as if in a daze with what the group wanted. She fought half-heartedly in the Battle of the Gunbar river, and celebrated not. In truth, she has become similar to how her father was prior to him discovering his child, and she hasn’t softened much since.
Skills: Stealth/Sneaking, Shortsword skills, Wrestling and hand to hand combat
Dreams and fears: Her dream is to fulfill her purpose. She is open to whatever that is. Whether it be a soldier. A family one day. To stop something from happening that could have killed hundreds of people. Whatever reason she was put on Earth, to fulfill that is her dream. Her fears are those she cares about dying, and dying herself.
Favored equipment: Shortsword, slingshot, the lightest armor one can find, bag of personal items for hygiene and health (some healing herbs and what not), small combat knife
Extra: Though she is smaller than the other men in the company, she knows how to use her small size to her advantage and theirs, to sneak into places quietly, as well as take down opponents much bigger than herself when going hand to hand. She can also hold her liquor better than several of the other men she's met. She is a fantastic singer, though she rarely sings anymore. She has a scar under her right eye that she got during the battle where he father died (about 1 inch in length and horizontal). She is not very skilled with a bow or crossbow, and while she is strong, she cannot wear heavy armor. Her favorite food is venison, and her favorite flower is the iris. She has never had a lover, as once her father caught her kissing one of the men of The Iron Company and yelled... a lot. After that, most treated her as one of the men.
Rand Sorren "To hell and back I will serve my queen." Full name: Sir Rand Therron Sorren
Titles: Sir Rand, Rand the Bloodied, Rand the traitor, And The knight of the farm. (A nod to his village roots, he wasn't actually a farmer.)
Rank: Boar
Age:28
Gender:Male
Appearance:
Personality:Rand is almost fanatically loyal to his lord or lady even until the death. But in his mind the people come first down from the lowliest peasant to the very top, as a knight he believes in honor and will not fight an unarmed opponent or kill prisoners and most of all he will not harm the innocent. But with this said he is not above challenging those who hurt the innocent to battle, Rand is kind to people. Even when things are the darkest he finds good in it, But he seems to avoid talking with his fellow soldiers not seeing them as true knights.
History: Rand was born in a small village in a distant kingdom, the son of a inn keeper and his wife. For the most part rand had for the most part a good early child hood, at age thirteen he was to be apprenticed to the blacksmith. But instead war with a neighboring kingdom brought the army through the village who recruited everybody 12 and older who didn't have a job to do, that meant almost every child 12 and up was conscripted to fight and some of the drifters around town as well.
The army when they weren't marching taught Rand skills he would need to survive, which was essentially the 'pointy end goes in the enemy.' His first battle was a siege that ended in 3 months, He remembers the catapults launching flaming rocks covered in pitch that lit up the night, and arrows that came down like a deadly rain. His orders were to storm the walls. When they set up the ladders Rand was the first one on the walls and he fought ferociously, he couldn't explain it but he just seemed a natural with a sword.
After the battle Rand was noticed by a knight and was squired to him. First came education, books and tactics were thrown at the boy, then came the sword and spear, the horse and shield. He took to these lessons almost instantly, his hunger to learn only matched by his hunger to serve the knight he was squired to and the king of his realm. He was knighted at age 18, given lands and serfs and told to serve his king. He did but as the old king died and his son took the throne things changed, the new king demanded outrageous taxes from the lower class, executed anyone who neighsayed, and ignored the plight of the lower class.
When Rand spoke up about this to the king, he was brought to the dungeons and branded just above the heart so he knew he was owned heart and soul. Then he was left to rot, but as the lower class rose in revolution, Rand was let out as long as he served his lord willingly. So he did, he did things he wasn't proud of he put whole towns to the sword, burned families in their homes, and sent people to the gallows. He saw himself as no better than any other killer.
Eventually he was told to return to the castle, that's when he did it. He was so angry with the king and with himself that he didn't care if he was killed there on the spot. He drew his blade and took the kings head. Then he fled the castle by horse back, as far away as possible. That's where he found the queens guard and seeing as he was already a knight and his skills were desirable he was taken in as their newest recruit.
Skills: Rand is a master of the blade to the point that it seems to be an extension of his hand, he is great on horseback and with a lance or spear, he is also well learned in tactics and other areas of study.
Dreams and fears: Rand dreams of being able to settle and live out his life on a peice of land, he often fears if he is becoming evil or corrupted due to what he's done in the past, its also a subject of nighmares for him
Favored equipment: Heavy plate armor,sword, Glaive, and horse
The heron is the symbol of Rand's now defunct house
The words "All war is the same" Is scratched into the wood of the glave
Extra:
He has a black warhorse named 'Stepper' with him who he cares for like a member of his family, somewhere along the way he learned to play the flute and has since mastered it, Rand is also great with kids and surprisingly gentle for a knight.
Astrid Hallows
If We Die, We Die, But First We'll LiveFull name: Astrid Elizabeth Hallows
Titles: Street Rat
Rank: Boar
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Appearance: 
Personality: Astrid was always a very straightforward person. She wanted something, she would get it. Nothing would stop her from getting her way, even if it meant lieing, cheating, stealing, killing, nothing was below her. She would always try her very hardest until she finally achieved her goal. Most saw her as cold and distant for what she did, but she was worse than that. The only way she could get any respect from the men of the world were if they were terrified of her and what she could do.
History: Astrid's life started out in the dirt and mud. Born in the streets, she struggled for survival since the beginning. At first she tried to get food by relying on the kindness of others, though it soon became evident to her that this world was a greedy one. People had no sympathy for a lowly street rat. They would spit in her direction and deliberately walk out of the way to make sure they didn't even brush her. No, depending on the kindness of others would get her nowhere. Instead she would have to take what she needed, through any means necessary.
The sword came whistling out of the air, and Astrid's dagger barely managed to catch it. The blade, tiny in comparison to the massive one wielded against her, flew out of her hands into the mud. She scrambled for it, desperately trying to reach it before her attacker struck again, but one of the men standing in the circle around them kicked it out of the way, spraying dirt and mud into her face. A piece landed in her eye stinging badly. Turning around she saw the man approaching her laughing at her scrambling around in the dirt. Anger filling her she pushed off from the ground, flying towards the man. She managed to catch him by surprise, but it was not enough.
Before even one of her fists could land a blow on him, he had whipped the pommel of the sword against her head. Stunned, Astrid fell back to the muddy ground. Through her bleary vision she could see the men around her laughing at how easily the street rat woman had been defeated. It was an unfair fight, sending one of their biggest men against such a small woman with only a dagger, but it had made good fun for them.
Astrid eyes snapped back to the approaching giant. His sword rested against her throat just hard enough to draw a tiny stream of blood. His gruff voice rang out to the men around, "Foolish girl, you should never have challenged me to a battle. What did you think was going to happen? You would have been smart to just take your beating and be done with it." Looking up at the surrounding circle of men he called out, "No this girl had to be stupid enough to try and battle me!" he threw his head back and laughed, old yellow teeth showing. Kneeling down before her, his face close to hers, she could hear every breathe. Hear heart fluttered in her chest like a dying bird. She avoided looking into his eyes. After a moment he spoke, voice low and threatening "I'll let you live... just because, but you had better not try anything again, scum girl."
He stood spitting on the mud before her. Turning to leave, Astrid's body filled with heat and anger. Pushing herself to her feet, she struggled after him. His back was turned to her and he hadn't notice her get up. Her body burned from the beating she had just received and blood was dripping from numerous cuts along her body where he had been toying with her. As she reached him, her hands grabbed onto the fur pelt hanging around his neck and used this as leverage for her kick. Her foot shot out landing on his Achilles heel. The tendon tensed under the pressure and collapsed and giant before her fell to his knees in a cry of anguish. Hands moving quickly she threw them around his head, one on the chin and the other the back of the head. With a sharp twist and a loud crack, the mans neck was broken. His dead body, no longer held up by his will fell into the mud, splattering it across his dull, expressionless face.
That was the moment when Astrid first proved herself. Killing that man showed to the others that she was made of something, something more. Men feared her and what she could and would do. He was not the last she was forced to kill, and certainly wouldn't be the last. The only reason she joined the Iron Company was because of the chest of gold she heard she would receive for her service. They accepted anyone, so joining was not an issue.
Skills: Hand to hand combat
knife fighting
fighting dirty
hell-bent on surviving
Dreams and fears: Astrid's dreams are to simply live, to live and thrive. She wants to be the ruler of a small providence on the coast. Some place she can watch grow and turn into a bustling town. Like most people she fears death. She will go to desperate measures to make sure she doesn't die, no matter the cost to anyone around her.
Favored equipment: Mostly wears hardened leather armor, except for steel shoulder and elbow pads. She also carries knives in both boots and a long sword across her back, though she prefers to use her knifes.
Extra: Nothing is below Astrid, she will go to great lengths to achieve her personal goals. As long as it benefits her, she will probably go for it. She also has a small cut running across her left eyebrow preventing hair from growing, unlike the half of her head which she shaves on purpose in order to help her retain some sense of respect from men.
Rudolfo von Klaus
Fight me.Full name: Rudolfo Persching von Klaus XIII
Titles: "Black Jack", "Grognard"
Rank: Stag
Age: 62
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Personality: Once a feared warrior, when the sands of time wore out his back and his cane replaced his sword in his main hand, Rudolfo was reduced to nothing but a blathering and foul-mouthed old man. All that he experienced in his time had made Rudolfo jaded. He dislikes society and is fed up with his superiors. At an early age, Rudolfo began to question life. He was curious as to what purpose he had and why all had become as it did. When he first picked up a sword, Rudolfo came to understand life better. He would forge meaning, writing with the blood of his enemies and his sword as his pen. Everything else became a mundane chore for Rudolfo and he could think of nothing except to wait for his next battle. When he came of age, little had changed. Then when he grew older, the most significant thing Rudolfo gained was senility. Though he is less forgetful than his underlings would like, Rudolfo is noticeably senile. Rudolfo was known to drink heavily from a younger age. His drinking habits had progressed.
History: Rudolfo grew up in a peasant family simply as Persching. Rudolfo's family could not afford a surname. His parents worked toiling on the fields, and when Rudolfo was old enough, he did too. Rudolfo would rise early in the morning, tend the animals, and harvest crops without a word. Rudolfo had too much respect for his parents then. Though he never voiced any dissent, Rudolfo had pondered into the meanings of things.When he became a teenager, Rudolfo discovered he hated his parents and religion. Without his parent's knowing, Rudolfo packed whatever he could get his hands on and left. When Rudolfo ran out of food, he would steal it. Often Rudolfo would get caught. Twice, he had nearly been executed. Rudolfo was fed up with the world. He sought to end himself, but could never bring himself to do so. Before he did, he discovered a band of mercenaries- the Iron Company. Rudolfo couldn't do very many jobs, and he needed to keep a low profile. Mercenary work seemed an easy answer.
Rudolfo began as a boar. He had no name then. Even so, he managed to meet his first love. She was a minor noble and one of three sisters. Her family had no sons and their father, Rudolfo von Klaus XII, was in a rush to get his daughters married. Rudolfo fought for many months to gain his sweetheart's affection. It took him longer to get the father's approval. When Rudolfo married, it was agreed that he took his father in law's name. Rudolfo did not want to be reminded of his past, and so burned his old belongings. Anything he had that was keepsake of his old family was discarded. The name Persching, however, stuck. It was what the Iron Company had always referred him as, and the name he had always given others. Rudolfo could not soon rid himself of his name- that which he had for the longest time.
After a life time of war, Rudolfo still could not settle down. He wanted to die properly in war, even if he had become to old to wield his sword. His sword hand shudders as he grips the handle, but the will did not fade.
Skills: A lifetime as a mercenary had left experiences of a veteran. Rudolfo could act as a priceless wellspring of encyclopedic knowledge and wisdom on the art of war and swordplay as well as other weapon techniques that could work on a continental scale. That is, if someone managed to get Rudolfo to speak in a non-biting manner.
Dreams and fears: Too old to be a bear, Rudolfo's only wish is to die. His greatest fear is to die alone of old age instead of with his sword on the battlefield.
Favored equipment: Rudolfo insists on his troops wielding spears, and to make sure they are longer than the opponent's. However, he believes that the braver soldiers should fight bare handed to test their mettle.
Extra: The noble insignia of the von Klaus clan is a circular shield with four torches equidistant from each other. The torches meet with one large flame at the center.
Sikarthis "Too hot..." Full name: Sikarthis Thrachaiss vas Emperat
Titles: Northman, "The Ice Prince"
Rank: Boar
Age: Twenty Six Winters
Gender: Male
Appearance: 
Personality: Cold as the land he hails from, Sikarthis is a reserved individual who speaks little even with those he considers companions. To Sikarthis conversation is something that happens to other people, though others often mistake this for a willingness to listen to whatever they have on their minds. He is slow to anger and seemingly devoid of any of the vices that ail his fellow sellswords, a fact that has earned him both respect and disdain (oftentimes both from the same people). Sikarthis speaks little of his past or his home except on rare occasions when queer fancies strike him. While Sikarthis' loyalty can be questioned few can say the same of his combat prowess and it is a rare thing indeed for anyone to find him away from the training yard or his animal pens.
History: Of all those in service to the deposed Queen, Sikarthis is quite possibly the only one who might be able to sympathize with her plight on a personal level. Years before Sikarthis found his way to the Iron Company he resided far in the north, thousands of leagues from Arlon in the Ustynia Ice Plains. A vast, gelid land of black-blue mountains of ice and windswept plains of snow, Ustynia was a hostile place that would kill the unprepared as easily as the most experienced of adventurers. Home to immense wooly beasts, wild cats the size of horses, and all manner of dark terrors beneath the iceflows, it was little wonder that few civilizations had ever bothered to settle there. One however did, and from that small kingdom Sikarthis was born.
Son to the King Atop The 'Berg, Sikarthis was raised from childhood to assume the Throne upon his coming of age, when he would challenge the King to single combat. At the age of six he was assisting the Huntmasters tend to the tamed Snowcats, and repairing their sleds between hunts.Thirteen Winters saw Sikarthis begin his martial training, learning and mastering the javelin first and quickly following suit with the longsword and shield. A rare opportunity even allowed him to study with the reclusive monk sects atop the Ighai mountain, a monolith of ice and rock rising four miles above the barren plains surrounding it. Up in that misty, mysterious place Sikarthis honed his skills further, learning to wear his armour like a second skin, the added weight becoming familiar and comforting. Sikarthis did not return from Ighai until his Twentieth Winter, the time set before him by the King atop the 'Berg for their battle.
Sikarthis had no sooner arrived at what was to be the site of their melee before he was set upon by an ambush, sent by the King his own self. In his absence the King had grown frail and frightened, unwilling to allow himself to be beaten by his son that the stronger may rule as tradition had held for centuries. Escaping with his life and this information, Sikarthis set about raising the people against the King, an easy task once they learned of the betrayal. For two Winters a small civil war raged in that far off frozen edge of the world, the only witnesses to feats of valor and bloodshed the wild beasts that feasted upon the dead once the battles were done. In the end Sikarthis was able to lead his rebellion to the foot of his fathers last bastion, the 'Berg itself.
An immense fortress hewn of the ice atop a mobile iceberg, the 'Berg had stood for centuries as a symbol of power and stability in Ustynia. None had ever breached its walls nor claimed victory over a siege against it, ability to move unbidden a deterrent against any kind of long term encampment. Seers had foreseen that it would continue to stay afloat for centuries more, long after the people of the world had drifted away into the frozen wastes. Unfortunately the Seers were wrong.
Unknown to Sikarthis, the King had enlisted the aid of the Orelords, master tunnelers and miners, to booby trap the 'Berg, digging long tunnels throughout it's interior so that the King might cleave off entire sections and drown the approaching army. During this operation however something went wrong, and on the morning of the final assault against the 'Berg, Sikarthis awoke to bear witness to the collapse of the only true symbol of rulership Ustynia had ever known. The 'Berg gone, Sikarthis was stripped of all status and whatever politcal power he may have held, his entire war fought for nothing in the end. With no choice before him Sikarthis left his ancestral homeland, heading south with nothing but his favored Snowcats and a sled full of his ancestors belongings. Selling his services as a warrior, it wasn't long before he joined up with the Iron Company. At the time of these current events Sikarthis has served with the Company for Two Winters.
Skills: A master of the Longsword and Shield along with the Javelin, a favored weapon of his homeland, Sikarthis is also a skilled beast tamer, catching and training a variety of animals over the course of his service with the Company. His training atop Ighai has left more nimble than most while encased in armour, though he is by no means a lightning bolt on the field of battle. Hailing from a land of ice and snow Sikarthis is also more than able to cope with winters and is almost always the primary hunter for the Company during such times. Along with these skills Sikarthis carries with him what little leadership abilities he employed during his own civil war, small though they were given the fact that much of his forces were comprised of smaller tribes led by their own Icelords. These days he refuses to make use of these skills however, the memory of what occurred the last time he did forever fresh in his mind.
Dreams and Fears: Any dreams Sikarthis may have had died the day the 'Berg fell into the frigid seas of the North. If he has reasons for staying on with the Company and fighting for the Queen then they are unknown to his companions and quite possibly even to himself.
Favored equipment: Ancestral Longsword forged in the way of the Orelords of Ustynia, tested and proven by slicing clean through a block of ice.
A lightweight shield of reinforced oak.
Ancestral armour forged centuries before and reforged countless times since. Primarily made up of scale and chain, Sikarthis has removed much of the plate from the joints, replacing them with more flexible protective pieces to allow for reduced weight and greater range of movement. The remaining pieces of plate protect the chest, thighs, arms and legs. Along with his armour, Sikarthis had a full face helm in the Ustynian design of a death mask fashioned, a crown of the same design crafted onto it as a self mocking reminder to Sikarthis of what he has lost.
Javelins forged by Sikarthis himself in the Ustynia style. These barbed missiles are designed to stick into their targets and cause maximum damage should anyone try to remove them.
Extra: Along with his equipment Sikarthis maintains a number of pens for housing various animals. Two of these pens however are always home to his own personal beasts, Ustynian Snowcats of considerable size. Absolutely loyal to Sikarthis they are his shadow on the battlefield and his willing pillows during the cold nights.
Atl
CRUSH! KILL! MAIM! BLEED! BLEED! FOR THE CHIEFTAIN!Full name: Atl Eztli
Titles: Jungle Savage
Rank: Soldier
Age: 31
Gender: Man
Appearance: 
Personality: Atl is a man with simple tastes. He loves to fulfill his carnal desires, and to brawl. He is blood-thirsty and incredibly rash, which is aided by the fact he is not too wise and is also illiterate. He has a distrust of scholars, who use books, and those who engage in frivolous things. He holds reverence for those who call upon the spirits of the ancestors to help in healing the injured. (ie. Medicine-Men.) He holds a fierce loyalty to those who he considers his kin, and those who would run or betray their commanders/kin are the worst in his eyes, and should die an unworthy death, such as by disease or old age from servitude.
History: Beyond the massive and expansive mountain range, affectionately called the Devil's Barricade, which lays to the east of Aron, there is the harsh landscape of Sovajra. Beyond the mountains, and the closest to Aron lay the harsh deserts of Sovajra, which take up around 43 percent of the land. It is a blistering, and hot desert wasteland, with few scattered Oasis where the stronger of the tribes gather around, harvesting some serial crop that grow in the area, and pursuing the local fauna, such as coyotes, vultures, and other creatures who survive in these blistering sands. The only true resource in these deserts, are salt and lime-stone, and some shells and fish off the coast to the north. The south is much hillier, as is the east, which separates the desert from the rest of the landscape. The other 57 percent of the land is a dense, wet, and humid jungle and marshland swamps which are breeding grounds for disease, and vicious wildlife. In the center of this western front, is a massive volcano, that is quite active, which provides a rich and fertile soil for growing of crops, and expanses of obsidian. It also contains some iron, but of a low quality, which would need purifying and refining, before it would be a useful iron.
Atl was born to the Eztli tribe of barbarians, in the harsh jungles of Sovajra, far from the noble volcano, and off of a small tributary which fed into a larger marsh further south. He was born to the world, as a future warrior of his tribe, and would bring blood-shed to all who opposed the tribe. Atl would constantly pick fights on his older kin, especially the ones who were larger, in order to train himself, and because he enjoyed the challenge. During these childhood skirmishes, which he would frequently get beaten by as the older children were more experienced and stronger than him, he knew with each beating he took, he would become stronger, and more useful to the tribe. Eventually Atl would beat the children who won their encounters in childhood, by besting them into adulthood. Atl had become a true barbarian warrior, useful to the tribe. However, the tribal family would not always be at war, and as such his blood-father took him under his wing to construct stone tools, for the tribe to use.
Atl was used to the small skirmishes between rival tribes, and would constantly fend them off from trying to take territory that belonged to his tribe, or fight against them for reasons of honor and blood feuds. His tribe fought bravely and fiercely each time, taking captives from the other tribes, and sending them back, without hands or other limbs, to send a message, to not mess with the tribe. However, the time came when these smaller tribes, and new neighboring tribe, led by a young Warrior Priest, Yaotl a member of a tribe that was almost snuffed out by the Etzli tribe. These tribes sickened by their defeat against the Etzli would forge the Deepmarsh Pact, an alliance between their respective tribes. That is when they launched an assault upon the Etzli tribe in the dead of night. Atl fought as much as he could, but he found himself defeated, and watched in horror as the Tribal Chieftain was taken and placed upon a freshly constructed altar and sacrificed. The Deepmarsh Pact sold Atl off, instead of keeping him as a warrior slave. While he was being escorted by his slavers, through the hills and through the deserts to a prominent northern trading ground, he was rescued by some strange tribe, and Atl unaware of the location of the others of his tribe, eagerly inquired of this strangely dressed tribe if he could help them in anyway. They did find a use for his offered services, as they gave him a job amongst them, to serve under the Queen, what these strange foreigners called their Chieftain.
Atl eagerly accepted this task, eager to serve the Chieftain whose strange tribal warriors saved him from a life of servitude. Though, Atl will have to grow accustomed to their foreign tribal ways.
Skills: Atl is skilled in close-combat brawling, though he prefers punching to grappling. He is also skilled in the use of axes/clubs and spears. (Though he is trying out swords, and trying to get a feel for them.) He is also is good at hunting/gathering, alongside having general wildness survival skills, and some stone-working (primarily for weapon crafting.)
Dreams and fears: Dreams to crush his enemies, and see them driven before him, and to hear the lamentations of their women. He also dreams of finding living members of his tribe. Fears a life of peace and harmony, with no war to fight. Also has a fear of losing his pet cat.
Favored equipment: Little to no armor, axes, clubs, and spears. He prefers the weapons to be made of stone, as that was the equipment he used for most of his life.
Extra: Atl has a domesticated black cat, which he affectionately calls Slayer. He makes his own snares to hunt small creatures, alongside using his small cat. He also has some bastard children running around Sovajra, somewhere, for some tribal family.
(CHARACTER NAME HERE)
(PERSONAL MOTTO)Full name: [include middle names and such]
Titles: [these can be royal titles if they are former nobility, or nicknames]
Rank: [the Iron Company follows a tight hierarchy, but most of you will be normal soldiers, with one non commanding officer and an officer. Dare take liberties but understand if it doesn't fit, I will ask you to remove it.]
Age:
Gender:
Appearance: [picture or description]
Personality:
History: [no 'I'll tell it in the IC' please, write 2 solid paragraphs minimally]
Skills: [these should be somewhat noteworthy]
Dreams and fears: [can be whatever, just for flavor]
Favored equipment: [armor, weaponry, other equipment]
Extra: [this can be like an insignia if your character is a (former) noble, or a pet, or whatever.]
Some ground rules
I expect some form of input from you guys, whether it is in the form of PM's or just posting in the OOC -- all RP's ever have benefitted from this and I am but 1 man. I cannot think of 100 plots for you guys that I am 100% sure you will enjoy, I need your input for that.
Second of all, I kinda need a co-GM to catch mistakes I or others might make if I miss them. Just PM me if you're up to help.
Well, I don't have to tell you I don't mind discussions, as long as they remain friendly or semi-friendly. I'd hate to see someone step out of the RP because of an argument with someone else (I have never seen this but whatever) so just keep it friendly. If you want to organise real life fights, do it through PM.
And last, if you aren't having fun with the RP you need to ask yourself why you're taking part in it. If you're not having fun then why RP at all? Just promise me that you'll try and talk to me before that to see if we can make it more fun for you, but if you think it's necessary to step out you should tell me that as well -- nobody likes people that leave without saying anything.
Welp, that's all. Enjoy!
