Vahir

The Annals of House Cade [Game of Thrones / ASoIaF RP]

Absolutely not!

Here's that new fangled OOC I was referring to

The Annals of House Cade [Game of Thrones / ASoIaF RP]

LORD LEORIC CADE

Age: 44

Station: Nobility, the head of House Cade. Lord of Castle Tarrow.

Family: Though the only member of House Cade proper, Lord Leoric has several relatives. He has a bastard younger brother, Ser Raymun. Their relationship is not particularily warm: Raymun reminds Leoric too much of their father, and he considers the bastard to be ungovernable. The two do not often meet, as Raymun spent many years serving Lord Frey as a household knight. Despite his personal dislike for the man, however, Leoric respects and trusts his brother, enough to name him Castellan in his absence.

He is betrothed to Lady Sarisa Swann, the daughter of an important stormlord, a last attempt to produce an heir on his part. He befriended her father during Robert's Rebellion and the subsequent war against the iron islands, in spite of the geographic divide, but he has never met Sarisa herself. Finally, there is Adelinde, the daughter of his dead uncle Alder. Her identity has not been verified, and all he knows of her is that she appeared at Castle Tarrow suddenly, claiming to be someone nobody knew existed.

Description:
Lord Cade is a visibly aging man, long past his prime. Never a big man, being rather short and slender, he is hardly an intimidating figure. Once upon a time, he would distinguish himself in the lists, and with a blade in hand, but his strength is not what it was, and he relies mostly on experience during the skirmishes of the War of Five Kings. He is very dour; his face is made for frowns and scowls, and he is pessimistic to a fault. He has dark brown hair and a small beard, both cut short.

He tends to expect the worse of any given situation, and plans accordingly. That is not to say that he is miserable, or that he judges others for being happier than himself. Though he is not often openly merry, he relaxes his guard around those he knows and trusts, being cold to strangers and warm to friends, though his friends are few and far between. He is merely worn down by four decades of Westerosi politics, desiring no more than to return to Castle Tarrow in peace.

Image

Biography: Born in the fall of the year 255, Leoric Cade, son of Lord Edwyle Cade and Lady Merall Boor, Leoric did not have a particularily happy childhood. Few children lived in Castle Tarrow at that time, and none were of equal rank to himself; he was friendless and isolated. Nor did he have his parents to turn to. Lady Merall had no love for him, and used him as a weapon with which to spite his father. Lord Edwyle, meanwhile, had no love for anybody at all, least of all his son. The elder Lord Cade was a cruel man of sinister repute, whose dark moods were feared throughout the region.

Leoric found himself to be happiest when left alone, exploring the tunnels below Castle Tarrow, the relics of a dozen older fortresses. He was of a bookish demeanor, and took to the lessons of his maester eagerly. Never robust, he was quite sickly in his youth, much to his father's disgust. At the age of ten, his uncle Alder Cade, barely a man himself, eloped to marry a daughter of petty nobility, despite Edwyle expressiley forbidding it. His father's rage was savage, and it was understood that there would be no more mention of the errant uncle in the castle.

He learned the use of the sword, of course, and he did not disgrace the family name on the lists or, during the War of Ninepenny Kings, on the battlefield. He was knighted during that conflict, among many other nobles. He even made a name for himself in tourneys as he grew more boisterous with manhood and knighthood. His life thereafter was much the same as any other Westerosi nobleman, a series of tourneys and feasts interrupted only by his marriage to his first wife, forced upon him by his father.

Things changed when he was 30, when the John Arryn raised his banner in defiance of the king, and the realm exploded into war. He and his father led the Cade forces to the Twins, intent on marching in support of Riverrun, but were held back by Walder Frey. By the time they arrived at the Trident, the war was already all but won. Lord Edwyle was furious, slipping first into a rage, and then when that subsided into a melancholy. He grew more and more detached with their march south as the days went on. Only when he could not be roused from his sleep did his retainers suspect something was amiss. A maester deduced that the lord had contracted an illness during the march. The sickness burned through him quickly. His corpse was sent back to Castle Tarrow within the fortnight. It was whispered that the Lord had died too quickly, and that he had been poisoned by one of his many enemies. He had certainly not had lack for those in his wicked life.

Leoric, now Lord Cade, spent the rest of the war marching from one place to another, from King's Landing to Storm's End. He returned to Castle Tarrow a different man, more restrained by the responsibilities now on his shoulders. He abandoned the lists, and began to spend more and more time locked away in his study, ruling as best as he could.

When word came south that the Lannisters were burning the Riverlands, Lord Frey called his banners, and Leoric marched once more, leading his men to the Twins. There they waited once more at Lord Walder's pleasure, receiving the shocking news of the horrific defeat at the Golden Tooth. He only marched south when Robb Stark arrived from the North, leaving under the command of Stevron Frey, his overlord having thrown his lot with the wolf. At the Whispering Woods and Oxcross he fought under the wolf's banner, and he was among those who scaled the walls of the Crag.

The Annals of House Cade [Game of Thrones / ASoIaF RP]

THE ANNALS OF HOUSE CADE

A Song of Ice and Fire RP

"Leoric Cade, lord of Castle Tarrow, shivered in the cold autumn chill of the night alongside his men. Though he wore leather, and chain atop of that, the cold seemed to seep into his bones. Perhaps it was the anticipation, not the weather, that chilled him so. The anticipation of battle. The anticipation of slaughter.

The night was pitch black: they dare not light torches for fear of being spotted, and the moon was considerate enough to hide behind thick clouds, so they could see almost nothing from the edge of the forest. He could hear breathing, however; the breathing of thousands of men in tense anticipation. He could only pray to the Seven above that the westernmen would not hear it as well, deafening as it seemed to his own ears. Atop the hill, he could see the glow of the enemy camp, as the ruckus of their own host feasting carelessly. Minutes seemed to stretch to hours.

Then, he finally heard the sound he'd been straining his ears to catch: The screams of men, dogs, and horses. All at once, the camp seemed to become frenzied, like a disturbed hive. This was it, it had to be! It was the hour of the wolf. The Young Wolf.

From duty runs rivers of gold, he reminded himself, echoing the words of his house to reassure himself. He could hear the shouts of his fellow lords ordering their men forward. "It is time," he shouted to those surrounding him. "Time to butcher these Lannister pigs. Onward, for Castle Tarrow, for Riverrun, and for Winterfell!" As the others took up the shout, he hurried forward into the darkness, among a line of men of shadows. They raced as fast as they dared in the darkness, towards the camp and battle... to claim Oxcross for the King in the North."
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Premise

Welcome to yet another A Song of Ice and Fire (Or Game of Thrones for you show types) RP. This one will be set during the later end of the War of Five Kings, well after the Battle of the Blackwater. Specifically, it will be set a few days after the capture of the Crag, the seat of House Westerling, by northern forces. Unlike many of these kinds of RPs, you (yes, you) will not be creating your own major houses. Instead, we will create characters belonging to, or pledged to, House Cade, a Riverlander house sworn to the Freys of the Twins.

From how I see it, there are four categories of characters you can create:
1. A member of House Cade (ex: Brother to Lord Leoric, wife, son, cousin, and so on)
2. A petty lordling pledged to the Cades (You'd make your own house, but they'd be little more than landed knights, no big castles or anything)
3. A knight in the service of the Cades (Household knight or hedge knight, whichever you please)
4. A commoner (ex: a farmer, a guardsman, a cook, a messenger, and so on...)

Essentially, the House will start as a blank slate, which we'll fill up with our own characters as we make them. They'd all be involved in the goings on in Castle Tarrow. The big driving force of the story in the RP will be the War, of course. Being sworn to the Freys, we'll have to chose between loyalty to House Tully, or loyalty to the Twins.

Map of the location

House Cade

From Duty runs Rivers of Gold

The Cades are, by Westerosi standards, a very young house. Having served the Twins for generations as household knights, they were granted the ruined holding of Castle Tarrow not long after the Targaryen Conquest. Lord Ondrew, the first Cade Lord of Castle Tarrow, took the bee as his personal sigil after finding hives thriving within the ruined walls of the ancient keep, and the banner has since overtaken the old sword-and-shield crest that the house had previously sported.

Through patience, leal service to the Freys, and enough good luck, the Cades have succeeded in restoring much of Castle Tarrow to a respectable state. Though some towers remain in poor condition, and an expanse of underground ruins remain wild and uncharted, the Cades now hold a strong fortress, and are foremost among the bannermen of House Frey.

The house words, From Duty runs Rivers of Gold, stresses the importance of diligence and obedience to one's lord. Taking the example of the hives that are kept in the castle courtyard, many Cades stress the symbiotic relationship between bees and beekeeper, between lord and vassal. Service rendered well and true brings success to the family.

A note on Castle Tarrow

Map of Castle Tarrow

The Palisade: Outside of Castle Tarrow proper, there is a rough wooden pallisade which surrounds the hilltop. Low, without a gate, and in poor condition, it nevertheless serves to funnel incomers into an easily visible path.

The Outer Walls: A relatively new construction, the outer walls were built by Leoric's great grandfather. Though smaller than the inner walls, they are thicker, and it is on the outer wall that any theoretical defense would take place. The gate has two components, an iron grate and barred, wooden doors.

The Inner Walls: Built some thirty feet high, these walls are the highest and most impressive part of the fortress. They surround the Keep, and from the top one can see miles around in every direction. The inner gate is made of thick studded oak, and kept in good condition at all times.

The Keep: The heart of the castle, it is older than the rest of the fortress, having been build some two hundred years ago by the first Cades. A small, stout building, it is nevertheless solidly built, a squat mass of stone overshadowed by the surrounding walls. Contained within is a relatively modestly sized hall, which can feast guests and hold audiences of no more than 50; some kitchens; and sleeping quarters. There is a single flat-topped tower protruding from its roof, in which resides maester Illric. Even from there, the outlying region is not visible behind the high inner walls. Finally, the keep has an entrance to the cave network beneath the castle, which has never been fully explored.

Pictured above, Castle Tarrow, despite mostly being of new construction, sits on a site that has been fortified since man first walked the Riverlands. The First Men ruled petty kingdoms from hillforts there, and the Andals likewise after their coming. Many castles were raised and fell over thousands of years, and their remains can still be found in the sunken caves beneath Castle Tarrow, more cave than stone after the passage of so much time.

There are around thirty permanent servants in Castle Cade, counting the cooks, the stablehands and the blacksmith, and the various other jobs required. Outside of planting and harvesting seasons, there are frequently influxes of more servants as outlying farmers find employment in the Castle during slow times, but since the war started all these idle hands have left to fight in the war instead. A dozen or so beehives are kept in the yard, a testament to the traditions of House Cade, as well as a sourcee of revenue.

The original Castle Tarrow was raised and held held by a minor Andal house which nonetheless held great sway over the region between the Twins and Seaguard. They resisted the Stormlords tooth and nail, rebelling at every possible chance. Harwyn Hoare, having snatched the Riverlands after trouncing the Stormlanders at Fairmarket, found them equally vexing. His humor being black, and his army strong, he tore Castle Tarrow to pieces, torching its buildings and wiping out its house.

The borderlands between the Mallister and Frey holdings remained lordless and disputed for two generations. When Aegon the Conqueror took his throne, however, he adjudicated the matter among his tour to reforge the Riverlands, dividing the land between the two competing houses. The Freys granted their portion- and the shredded remains of Castle Tarrow- to House Cade, who have since rebuilt the fortress into a formidable redoubt.

List of approved players

• Kassarock
• Kalleth
• Emma
• alexfangtalon

Character Sheet

The following sheet contains everything you are REQUIRED to have. Of course, you're free to reformat it and add in additional things if you so desire. Please post your app in the OOC or PM me for my approval before putting it in the character tab.

Name:
Age:
Station: What is the social standing of your character? Can vary between a commoner and a member of House Cade itself.
Family: Who shares your blood? Alternatively, put close relationships here. This section should be added onto as other players create characters and the web of relationships grows.
Description: A physical and psychological description of your character. Pictures are welcome, but you are still required to write verbal descriptions.
Biography: Describe the life of your character up until the point of the start of the RP.

The Annals of House Cade [Game of Thrones / ASoIaF RP]

If other people are still up for this, I could write a C.S. for a sworn knight, or maybe a bastard relative or something?

@Kassarock

Either or. And just to be 100% clear: You guys can play as relatives of Lord Leoric as well, such as cousins or children. Don't feel shy about overwriting my placeholder fluff.

I'm going to get an official OOC up sometime in the next couple hours. I'll let you know.

The Annals of House Cade [Game of Thrones / ASoIaF RP]

Here's that sheet I promised. Keep in mind many aspects of Lord Leoric's life are placeholders; for example, I wrote that he is childless, but if someone decides to play as one of his children I'll amend that in. The players will fill in the blanks of House Cade like that.

Leoric Cade, Lord of Castle Tarrow

LORD LEORIC CADE

Age: 46

Station: Nobility, the head of House Cade. Lord of Castle Tarrow.

Family: Lord Leoric has no direct kin. Childless through two marriages, first to a Vypren, and then to a Carrick, he outlived both his wives and now finds himself alone in the world. [SUBJECT TO CHANGE DEPENDING ON PLAYER CHARACTERS]

Description:
Lord Cade is a visibly aging man, long past his prime. Never a big man, being rather short and slender, he is hardly an intimidating figure. Once upon a time, he would distinguish himself in the lists, and with a blade in hand, but his strength is not what it was, and he relies mostly on experience during the skirmishes of the War of Five Kings. He is very dour; his face is one for frowns and scowls, and he is pessimistic to a fault.

He tends to expect the worse of any given situation, and plans accordingly. That is not to say that he is miserable, or that he judges others for being happier than himself. He is merely worn down by four decades of Westerosi politics, desiring no more than to return to Castle Tarrow in peace.

Image

Biography: Born in the fall of the year 253, Leoric Cade, son of Lord Edwyle Cade and Lady Merall Boor, Leoric did not have a particularily happy childhood. Few children lived in Castle Tarrow at that time, and none were of equal rank to himself; he was friendless and isolated. Nor did he have his parents to turn to. Lady Merall had no love for him, and used him as a weapon with which to spite his father. Lord Edwyle, meanwhile, had no love for anybody at all, least of all his son. The elder Lord Cade was a cruel man of sinister repute, whose dark moods were feared throughout the region.

Leoric found himself to be happiest when left alone, exploring the tunnels below Castle Tarrow, the relics of a dozen older fortresses. He was of a bookish demeanor, and took to the lessons of his maester eagerly. Never robust, he was quite sickly in his youth, much to his father's disgust. He learned the use of the sword, of course, and he did not disgrace the family name on the lists or, during the War of Ninepenny Kings, on the battlefield. He was knighted during that conflict, among many other nobles. He even made a name for himself in tourneys as he grew more boisterous with manhood and knighthood. His life thereafter was much the same as any other Westerosi nobleman, a series of tourneys and feasts interrupted only by his marriage to his first wife, forced upon him by his father.

Things changed when he was 30, when the John Arryn raised his banner in defiance of the king, and the realm exploded into war. He and his father led the Cade forces to the Twins, intent on marching in support of Riverrun, but were held back by Walder Frey. By the time they arrived at the Trident, the war was already all but won. Lord Edwyle was furious, slipping first into a rage, and then when that subsided into a melancholy. He grew more and more detached with their march south as the days went on. Only when he could not be roused from his sleep did his retainers suspect something was amiss. A maester deduced that the lord had contracted an illness during the march. The sickness burned through him quickly. His corpse was sent back to Castle Tarrow within the fortnight. It was whispered that the Lord had died too quickly, and that he had been poisoned by one of his many enemies. He had certainly not had lack for those in his wicked life.

Leoric, now Lord Cade, spent the rest of the war marching from one place to another, from King's Landing to Storm's End. He returned to Castle Tarrow a different man, more restrained by the responsibilities now on his shoulders. He abandoned the lists, and began to spend more and more time locked away in his study, ruling as best as he could.

When word came south that the Lannisters were burning the Riverlands, Lord Frey called his banners, and Leoric marched once more, leading his men to the Twins. There they waited once more at Lord Walder's pleasure, receiving the shocking news of the horrific defeat at the Golden Tooth. He only marched south when Robb Stark arrived from the North, leaving under the command of Stevron Frey, his overlord having thrown his lot with the wolf. At the Whispering Woods and Oxcross he fought under the wolf's banner, and he was among those who scaled the walls of the Crag.

The Annals of House Cade [Game of Thrones / ASoIaF RP]

Maybe, I'm like 50/50 on this one tbh because I love ASOIAF but I don't know whether I particulary want to RP in its universe. Is four big enough for what you had planned?

@Kassarock

Four is plenty. It'd be ideal to have more, of course, but we could get by with four. (It might even make things better, with more focused and interactive characters.)

I'll go ahead and write up an example sheet for Lord Leoric once I'm off from work.

The Annals of House Cade [Game of Thrones / ASoIaF RP]

@Heat @Kassarock @Chazwazzer

Hey, sorry I haven't responded, after two weeks I thought nobody was interested. I'm still open to GM this if you guys are still interested.

Black Sun - Age of Wolves (Always Open)

Exarch: Lysvita

Exarch Lysvita, The Lady of of the Galans

Description:
The Lady of the Galans is not human. She is the last of the Angelos, a now-dead people reknown for their radiance, and their unmistakable wings, great branches that, when fully extended, can measure up to 20 meters across. Tall by human standards, she is almost six feet in height. Her eyes are shining light, the iris a burning fire where one would expect dull brown or blue. Her features are more handsome than beautiful, giving her an air of nobility and wisdom. Finally, she permeates a faint light at all times, setting her apart from those around her.

Personality and Drive:
Lysvita is at once both selfless beyond measure, and yet deep down selfish. She does genuinely care for the lives of others; her mission in this world, since the fall of Old Galenave, has always been to protect her people and the lives of humanity at large. For this cause, she would lay down her own life without hesitation. She sees herself- and is seen by others- as a paragon of virtue and nobility, defending the weak from the strong in this cruel world.

Nevertheless, she has the unfortunate tendency to disregard the wishes and decisions of others, imposing her own vision of "good" on a world that does not necessarily share her views nor desire her protection. Her greatest such act was abandoning Old Galenave to its death in days of old, her decision to ignore the consensus of the Elders to stand against Izalith, perhaps dooming that great city to destruction. Her arrogance in her world view has often blinded her to harm she has committed inadvertently.

History:
Lysvita was born an Angelos. Her people were a magical and proud, their kind not succumbing to the touch of age or illness. Their purpose, given to them by the gods, was to shepherd the souls of the dead in Ethica to their final resting places. Their city in this world, Old Galenave, was a wonder to behold, a gilded work of art of beauty unmatched then or now. Though few in number, they ruled over their own principality in the east of what is now the Empire. In exchange for tribute and labor, the Council of the Elders, the ruling body of the oldest and most powerful of the Angelos, saw to the protection and well being of their human subjects.

Lysvita never conformed to the ideals of her kin. Where the Angelos were focused on the celestial world, on the affairs of spirits, souls and gods, she was enthralled with the material world in which they lived, and argued vehemently for the cause of the humans their kind ruled over, the Galans. Because of her unorthodox views, and also her relative weakness compared to the older Angelos, she was not influential nor particularly noteworthy in their order of the world.

And then the legions of Izalith came.

Near seventy years ago, the Elders, alarmed by Mother Night's aggressive expansion and offended by the interference of a deity in worldly matters, resolved to stand against the dark goddess. Having been the masters of their corner of the world for thousands of years, they assumed their arcane might would be sufficient to defeat her. They were wrong. Rather than risk the damaging of their beloved metropolis, the Angelos departed from Old Galenave with all their power, a shining army of light that marched to confront the dark. It was on the fields of Infernath that the Elders chose to meet Mother Night in battle.

What occurred on that field is remembered by few, those who could boast to having survived that terrible day being rare. The Angelos weaved their magic to crack open the land and turn the grass to ash, turning Infernath into a field of fire that still today burns hot from their residue. But they had, in their vanity, opposed a god; the Angelos were nearly wiped out there and then. The few survivors- Lysvita included- limped back to Old Galenave a shadow of their former selves. The surviving Elders decided to close the gates and make a stand in their golden city.

However, Lysvita had seen first hand the horrors their war had inflicted upon the Galans, of the rape and ruin brought onto every village between the Empire and Old Galenave by the fighting. She knew that a siege would condemn thousands of innocents to death for a hopeless cause. Therefore, she rallied all those who would follow her, and fled the city, earning her infamy among the Angelos as a craven and betrayer. She was not there when the imperial armies arrived at the walls of the city, when they stormed its walls and put its inhabitants to the sword. The Angelos fought to the last, and were killed to the last. The city was sacked savagely for days, ending only when the spires, no longer supported by the magic of their builders, began to crumble into the sea. And so Old Galenave was swept away, the golden city now a ruined blight on the land.

Meanwhile, Lysvita led her host as far away as possible, making their way south along the coast. Hers was not an army, but rather a starving rabble that devoured everything in its path. Conditions in their long march were terrible, and thousands died of disease, starvation, thirst and exposure. Still, they continued, until they came face to face with an army sworn to Izalith, led by Soraya, the Archon of Change. The galans were too weak to lift a spear, even if they had the ability to fight, which they didn't; all the warriors had died at Infernath, or on the walls of Old Galenave. While another servant of Izalith might have destroyed outright the last remnants of the Galan people, Soraya offered Lysvita the protection of Mother Night, with the subjugation of her people as price. Seeing no other way to save them, Lysvita committed an act that would surely have the Angelos spitting on her from beyond the grave. She bent the knee to Mother Night, and to the Empire.

The Galans were permitted to settle on that spot. There, they founded New Galenave. In the many years since then, what was once a collection of huts and tents has grown into an important Imperial port, and one of the major cities in the south of the Empire. The Lady of the Galans has ensured their safety by fighting on distant battlefields in the name of Izalith, spreading death to protect the lives of her people. The irony is not lost on her.

Loyalty:
Currently, Lysvita owes her fielty to Soraya, Archon of Change.

Armaments:

• Lysvita's Armor: Of the same kind that every Angelos received upon coming of age, Lysvita's armor is no mere suit of bronze. The power imbued in it deflects blows aimed at her, by muddling the mind of those who would do her harm and making them miss. Of course, this effect scales depending on how focused the foe is on the attack: a hail of arrows, not being aimed at anything in particular, would pass by her harmlessly, while a single attacker utterly concentrated on striking her down would not be affected. Additionally, this power declines depending on the target's own power. Archons are completely immune to its effects. Still, even without this magical phenomenon, the suit is of the finest quality, and can resist blows very well.
• The Sword of Akasha: One of the few things Lysvita managed to save from the destruction of Old Galenave, the Sword of Akasha is an blade as old as the Angelos themselves, its material neither bronze nor iron, seemingly indestructible no matter how many blows are rained down on it. Tied to her will as its wielder, the Sword of Akasha bursts into flames when she is enraged in battle. Such a sword can cook a man alive.

Abilities:
Though a mere shadow of what the great Angelos elders wrought, Lysvita does possess her own magical powers that mark her as an exarch. Her touch cures sickness, heals flesh and mends bone, and she has been known to bring the dying back from their deathbeds from time to time. Additionally, she the ability to link her own life with another, as she has done with Aethelhelm. This is a power she has only used once, however.

Aside from these, she also has mother mundane abilities. She can, of course, fly, thanks to the great wings that sprout from her back. This is very tiring, however, and she can't make long distances like that. She is also skilled with the sword in a way that only one who has trained in that art for a hundred years can be.

Opinions:

• Mother Night: "Galenave was a wonder in this world, a shining gem and beacon to humanity. And now it is dust, due to Izalith's mad ambitions. She has no care for how many die in her cursed drive for worldly domination. Would that I had the strength to oppose her... Alas, the folly of that course has already been made abundantly clear. The best I can do is to soften her tyranny by working within the system."
• Soraya, Archon of Change: "Archon Soraya is unpredictable and mercurial, certainly not somebody I would trust. Her whims change with the wind. Still, she seems to at least care about the welfare of her subjects, a refreshing habit considering the vile behavior I've witnessed from the others of Izalith's chosen. My fealty to her, though wrung at sword point, has been earned over the years, and keeping her in the Empire's high echelons is a cause worth fighting for."
• Kabius Grim, Archon of Shadow: "The man is a mystery. I've seen him little, spoken to him less... and heard more rumors than I'd cared to. Intrigue and deceit are as bread and wine are to the common man, they say. Any man willing to soil himself with such dishonorable activities as spycraft is no more than a rat in human form. The less I have to deal with this rat, the better."
• Kuth Irkalla, Archon of Blood: "I've only ever seen the Archon of Blood from distance. Though I've rarely felt the fear so common to mortals, that man- if he can be called such- unsettles even me. The tales coming from his decaying isle are not fit for repeating. And though I might reject the more extreme stories as embellishment and hearsay, it is evident that the man cares only for his own advancement. Such kind as he would send ten thousand to their deaths if it advanced them an inch. If the heavens are good, he and Kabius will slay each other, and this world will be rid of both."
• Manuel Skleros: "The scum of Ardaza. He is little better than a thug, a petty, sinful waste of blood and bone who thinks only of his own gain. The day this villain reaps his due is the day true justice will have been served."
• Sergius: "Say what you will of the man, he is a fine soldier. He is one of the finest generals of the Empire, and his loyalty is unquestionable. His way of war is pragmatic, avoiding bloodshed where it is unnecessary. If nothing else, he has my respect."
• Kalon: "I've known Kalon for quite a while, as we both owe our fielty to Archon Soraya. Though his actions are selfless, his obsession with the letter of the law troubles me. A law which causes suffering to the common man is against the interests of the Empire, but he insists on following every damn regulation in the codes. He all too often seems to enforce the law for its own sake."

Hero:Aethelhelm the Undying

Aethelhelm 'the Undying'
Hero of Galenave, the Sword of Lysvita

"I never asked to be given this curse. Then again, none of us ask for the 'gifts' with which fate mocks us."

Description:
Aethelhelm is old in body, and older in mind. Though still as large as he was in his prime, his mop of black hair has withered away to slivers of silver, and his skin is taught on his bones. Notably, he is covered in scars, the marks of a dozen deaths. All over his body, one can see marks where spears have pierced him and blades have bit into his flesh. His right eye is missing, leaving only a stitched patch of skin there. The remaining eye is sunken, and his gaze is weary.

Personality and Drive:
The Hero of Galenave is a dour and serious man, not one prone to smiles or joviality. He views the world in with jaded lens, and is perpetually pessimistic. Though he sees evil everywhere he looks, he still strives to protect the defenseless of the world, even though that seems more and more like a fool's errand with every passing year. He takes no precautions for his own life, and throws himself heedlessly into danger to protect others, knowing that no matter how many times he is struck down, he never truly dies.

He is tired of the world and its horrors, and his only remaining wish is to die in the service of others. The Lady's touch prevents him from dying, however, and so he goes on and on, serving her in the hopes that one day she will release him form what he views as a curse. He never asked to be chosen by Lysvita; all he can do is keep going.

Background:
The man today known as the hero of Galenave was not born a Galan. He was born seventy five years ago among the Caester, a northern people who resisted the Empire's march rather than be absorbed by it. Their homeland was destroyed, and their people displaced, Aethelhelm included. As a young man barely out of boyhood, he was thus forced into exile far away from home. On his wanderings, he came near the city of New Galenave, and in that region saved a traveler's life from a group of brigands, at the cost of a spear in the gut. The wound was mortal, and the Galan healers were unable to do anything for him.

Lysvita heard of his plight, however, and healed him with a touch. In his heart, she saw something she approved of, and left her mark on his flesh,a pair of outstretched wings. Grateful for his life, he swore himself to her service. He did not truly understood what the mark on his neck meant until the day a foeman slit his throat on a battlefield. To his own surprise, and certainly that of his enemy, the wound closed itself, and he found himself rising. The gift the Lady had given him was one of life: she had tied his life to hers. From then on, he could never die for good.

For decades, he has killed for the Lady, for some archon he never met, and for some god he cared nothing for. Every time he has come back from death, he has felt more and more drained, almost fatigued. He can no longer bring himself to look upon the world with wonder and optimism. Everywhere he looks, he sees death and meaningless pain. He continues to serve, however, as he always has.

Armaments:
Aethelhelm does not have any particular magical equipment. Instead, he wears a suit of iron, a rarity almost beyond price in the Empire. In battle, he wields a giant two handed sword, which he uses to deadly effect.

Skills:
Though trained in the spear as any warrior is, his main expertise is with a blade. Specifically, a very big one. Almost since the day he was born he has been defending himself with his sword arm, and he has become one of the great swordsmen of the age, facilitated of course by his unnaturally long lifespan. He knows how to survive alone in the wilderness, as often required by those who ride to war. His skills in matters other than bloodletting are much lesser; though intelligent, he has always felt his place was in danger, with a weapon in hand.

New Galenave

NEW GALENAVE

Description:
Among cities, some are ancient, and some newborn. New Galenave is most definitely newborn; it takes pride in its youth, its enthusiastic tradesmen and merchants ignoring the thinly-veiled contempt of the old established cartels. Founded some sixty years ago by refugees fleeing the Empire's conquests, it is nowhere as wealthy or expansive as other imperial metropolises, but it is growing year by year. It is commonly believed that, in the future, Galenave will be one of the foremost cities of the Empire.

A bustling port town of around 19 000, it is one of the main stops for trading ships sailing to Lesmiana. Most of the city is little more than a shantytown, a collection of ill-built huts in a mire of muck and mud. The Hillside is a much more refined section, however; located on the lesser of the town's two hills, it is a comfortable neighborhood with respectable manses and paved roads. It is there that the merchants, nobles, and administrators reside, separated from the common rabble by a palisade.

Of defenses, there is little: a 3 meter stone rampart surrounds the town, only wide enough for one man to stand at a position at a time. On the highest hill of the city lies the Citadel, though the name is more grandiose than the reality: It is a repurposed and refurbished castle from ancient times. It is small and squat, but solidly built. Around the Citadel is an inner wall, identical to the outer one. Plans are in place to expand the walls, given the city's recent growth, but officials are still gathering funding for the project.

One cannot visit New Galenave without hearing the sound of construction. It's often said that the Galans could expand their city to the ends of the world, and would still commission a new district. In addition to the plans to improve the fortifications, the representatives of the Hillside are embarking on a private enterprise to provide their district a proper curtain wall to divide themselves from the lower town. The docks are also being refurbished and expanded, while roads are being paved in an attempt to make Galenave more respectable.

Of note is the Hall of the Ancestors, a large stone temple dedicated to the dead, and which acts as a hospital. The town is renown for its healers, the art finding great patronage with the Exarch, who herself uses her powers to mend the wounded when they are required. A dozen other temples stand in the city, however. The Galans are, after all, a mongrel people, and one can find all manner of queer worships in the lower town, though imperial officials have begun putting pressure on the council to squash the more heretical of these cults.

Culture:
Galans are not a single unified people; or rather, they have not been for many years now. As their people fled the destruction of Old Galenave, many outsiders joined the host, and the growing town has further diluted the original people. Some customs, however, are held in great esteem by the inhabitants. Charity and compassion are key virtues. Even though the Galans are not particularly rich as far as townspeople go, most still make annual offerings to the community, whether it be food, coin, or service.

Additionally, its people insist on the holiness of sanctuary and hospitality. It is abhorrent to deny someone the right to rest in your home, and those who would harm guests are seen as some of the worst possible sinners. Finally, Galans are not a warlike people. Few chose to be proper warriors, a fact which is a continuous source of friction with the imperial authorities. This is not to say that they they are unwilling to defend their homes, or meet outlaws with steel; as a people, they are simply averse to violent solutions. They tend to react to aggression with a more passive form of warfare: ambushes, raiding, and sabotage are preferred to pitched battle.

Laws:
Of course, the laws of both Izalith and the Archon of Change, Soraya, rule in Galenave. Being a comparatively small settlement, it has few laws of its own, apart from the usual codes on property ownership and petty crimes. The Exarch does not usually implicate herself in the legal process, seeing herself more as a protector than a participant in the system. Instead, she oversees a council of respected members of the community, who make laws and pass judgement on matters of law.

Visitors should be aware that veneration of the dead is held in very high regard by the Galans, death being something of a religion for that people. Desecration, graverobbing, and - worst of all- necromancy are harshly punished, being some of the few crimes for which Lysvita has no mercy.



Military:
The Galans are not a warlike people, and have little in the way of martial tradition. They provide the Empire levies as tithes for Mother Night's wars, but these are not so much soldiers as they are farmers, armed with clubs and rusted scythes for the most part. Most cannot afford to purchase expensive iron, or even bronze armaments. The militia garrisoning the town itself are a better equipped, though are few in number for a settlement of its size.

When truly roused, the Galans prefer to fight by avoiding battle. They have come to excel at guerrilla warfare, and Galan skirmishers serving as auxiliaries are well respected by Imperial generals for their wiles. After all, when all one has to fight with is a throwing spear, a knife, and the clothes on one's back, creativity is required to survive.


Galan skirmishers executing an ambush

The Winged Knights

The Winged Knights are a small and prestigious order of warriors sworn to the defense of the Lady and her people. There are ten of them, each one’s name renowned in coastlands. To be chosen as one of the ten, a candidate must not only prove their personal daring and skill, but also show that they are a paragon of the virtues espoused by their Exarch. Gender is irrelevant, as is the station of one’s birth: anyone can rise to wear the wings, should they be worthy of the honor.

Though there is no defined uniform, the knights have traditionally fought in heavy armor, often in refined plates of iron, a metal unavailable to the common soldier. All knights are marked on their arm by the sigil of Lysvita, a pair of outstretched wings burned into their skin. On the battlefield, they are walking castles, sitting on their great was destriers impervious to most blows. It is the knights who lead the armies of Lysvita against her enemies, and their word is law, second only to the Lady’s.

There are currently eight knights, two others having died recently:

Aethelhelm the Undying, first of the order
Gendrick Humes
Edward “The Jester” Went
Niassa Parthon
“Giant” Gregory
Tanith Dugren
Hroth “the Stranger”
Halbert "Boy" Lothringen

Black Sun (A Warhammer/ Game of Thrones /Crusader Kings Hybrid)

To be reviewed.

Archon of Blood

^{"I understand. Illyrica is your home, and Lady Izalith your queen. Your trade was good, and you were taken care of. Your Exarchs defended you, and the Archons ruled you justly. You did not need my patronage. But now, you come to me and say, 'My Archon, give me strength, give me power.' But you don't offer piety. You don't ask on your knees. You don't even think to call me Great-Father. Instead, you stand before my throne and demand my favor."}

N A M E

Kuth Irkalla

T I T L E S

Archon of Blood
Great-Father, the Dragon in the East, Lord of Sheol, the Red Worm, King of Thieves and Whores

T Y P E

Archon

R I V A L

TBD

A P P E A R A N C E

Kuth seems to many like a man from another world, so uncanny is his appearance. A long, tapering head, his features presenting an exotic beauty. His slanting eyes are crimson red, their gaze ancient and brooding. His form is slender, yet wiry; lithe and predatory like a hungry wolf. His flesh is the color of bleached bone, and his long, flowing hair is the color of pure snow. His unnatural coloration resulted from his unholy communion of the Dark Ones, which corrupted his form and prolonged his life well beyond mortal means. His garb of choice is usually obsidian armor or ebony robes, both of which fashioned to designs no longer found in this world.

P E R S O N A L I T Y // D R I V E

Kuth strikes many as a man out of time, his moods and actions out of place among the other Archons, Exarchs and other rulers. Most view him as little more than a vicious tyrant, ruthlessly disposing of those that oppose him, and crushing any resistance to his rule. Those that know him more personally understand that he abides by a personal code of honor, though it is alien and antiquated enough to be almost inscrutable by the standards of this era. While on the surface he appears flighty and mercurial, this masks a tenacity that would rival that of a starving hound. He delights in dark decadence and long-planned revenge in equal measures, and generously shares the pleasures of either with his confidants. A shrewd manipulator and a cunning deceiver, it is a dangerous thing to assume Kuth's intentions, as one almost assuredly only thinks what he wants them to think. Despite his evil reputation, Kuth values loyalty above all else, greatly treasuring those of his blood, and those who have spilled blood in fealty to him.

Nothing less than the complete domination of Illyrica is Kuth's goal, and he fully intends to usurp Izalith and depose the other Archons in doing so. Whether the Mother Night herself knows of his intentions is debatable, but this does not so much as give him pause. Already Kuth's influence seeps into the mainland like a poison, his unholy brood and clandestine agents positioning themselves in noble courts and positions of power.

H I S T O R Y

Sheol, also known as the Black Isle, is a large island that sits across the waters of the Dragonthroat from Nachesh. Before the Disjunction, it was home to a small nation of sorcerers and warlocks who worshiped the Ancient Ones and performed dark rites and rituals in their names. As the War of the Heavens wrought destruction across the world, the small magocracy that thrived on Sheol was utterly destroyed, leaving behind nothing but the ruins of their obsidian temples and palaces, and a small colony of the Ancient Ones' vile brood. It was thought by all that the native peoples of Sheol had been made extinct, but in truth, a single man survived.

Kuth Irkalla tells little of past prior to the Disjunction, explaining vaguely that he was a lesser noble, a warlock that served in the court of one of Sheol's sorcerer-lords. In the centuries between the fall of his people and his own rise to power, he lived as a savage in the wasted ruins of his homeland. He practiced foul and forbidden magics to ward away spirits and demons, and drank the blood of the Dark Ones that remained from the War to extend his own life in absence of his people's curative elixirs. These desperate measures corrupted Kuth's very flesh, turning his form bone-white and turning him into a creature less than human. So twisted was he that food could no longer sustain him, and he was forced to subsist on the warm blood of living creatures.

In time, civilizations rebounded and people returned to Sheol. First explorers, then settlers, then merchants and traders, and finally outlaws and fugitives. Outside of the influence of the then-fledgling empires, Sheol became a haven for pirates, smugglers, and all manner of other scoundrels. Organized crime flourished like a weed in Sheol's ports and shipyards, and before long the island had become a pseudo-nation of thieves and killers. Kuth did not lament this development, as he saw it as little more than human nature in its purest form. Though he had forsaken the Ancient Ones as gods, Kuth still adhered to their malevolent ways, and sought to take back Sheol for himself.

Court politics in Old Sheol taught Kuth much of how to gain power and influence, and the self-described lords of New Sheol were ill-prepared for the level of violence and barbarity he was willing to demonstrate. Killing his rivals and taking their assets for his own was practically his first course of action. However, to curry favor one must give as well as take, and in seeing the people of Sheol as his kin and his ward, Kuth founded the reputation of the "Great-Father," the secretive crime-lord who could grant nearly any desire, but often at a terrible price. Under his watchful eye and swift hand Sheol grew into a small yet burgeoning empire in its own right; one that attracted the attention of the Mother Night, Izalith.

When the mighty armies of Illyrica came to port on Sheol, they met no resistance. Their soldiers were welcomed with women and drink, and Izalith and her Archons were invited to treat with the island's lord. The man they met was merely a puppet ruler hastily instated by Kuth, and served as a front as the Great-Father made his own demands. Wise Izalith saw through this guise with ease, but indulged Kuth by continuing to parlay with Kuth through this proxy. The "lord's" demands were easily met, as he would swear fealty to Illyrica and the Mother Night, meeting her needs for men or coin when asked, in exchange for Sheol's complete autonomy and its Archon's unquestioned authority. The puppet was granted the title of Archon for the brief months that he was alive to bear it, and after an unsurprisingly quick coup, the Great-Father ruled the Black Isle in earnest.

Though little had changed beyond a crown being placed upon his brow, Kuth now wielded the power of an Archon through the Mother Night's favor and the legend of the Great-Father. Determined to shape his home into a true nation, he founded the order known as the Coven. Equal parts crime syndicate and secret police, the Coven's innermost ranks were formed by Kuth's dozens of offspring, which he had imbued with both a portion of his unnatural power and his cursed blood. Generations of descendants formed the bulk of the order, who infiltrated every port, city, gang, business, and criminal enterprise on Sheol. Any organization that was host to the Coven was under the Great-Father's "personal" protection, but was forced to pay tribute. Thieves paid in coin, slavers in flesh, and any who refused were purged. Particularly loyal supplicants could undertake a covenant of blood, and become members of the Coven themselves.

Sheol was as much a den of sin and lawlessness as ever before, but now under the direct and utterly legal control of the Great-Father. The foulness of Sheol was hardly contained to only it, and crime often spread to coast of Nachesh like a dark stain. Similarly, Kuth's influence hardly stopped within his own borders, and both members of his Coven and other agents under his control lurked within the domains of other Archons, as well as Lesmiana. To say that this corruption was tolerated by Kuth's fellow Archons and lesser Exarchs would be a dramatic overstatement, and many have made attempts to depose Kuth or otherwise restrict his influence. He has reacted to such attempts with a swiftness and ferocity that few are prepared for, and a handful of Exarchs have "abdicated" by his order. There have even been occasions when other Archons have had their noses blooded, both figuratively and literally, after attempting to infringe upon his enterprises.

A R M A M E N T S

TBD

M O U N T

Though Kuth will most usually travel by more inconspicuous means, when riding to battle or making a show of force, he takes up the reigns of Apollyon, his undead draconic steed. While Apollyon's physical form is comprised of the bones of an ancient dragon lord, the creature is truly a chaotic spirit that has been summoned and enslaved by Kuth, and bound to the dragon's bones. A powerful magical entity in her own right, Apollyon is capable of magic-induced flight, and can conjure powerful curses and poisons to destroy the foes of her master slowly and painfully. While she is intelligent, prideful, and utterly malevolent, Apollyon has something of an obscene infatuation with Kuth, and eagerly submits to his demands.

D I S C I P L I N E

The discipline formed by Kuth's status as an Archon is known by several names: blood magic, hemomancy, sanguimancy, and so on. These titles are largely descriptive, as the discipline focuses on the manipulation of blood, flesh, and bone. Most who wield it are born with their powers, as it is most common among Kuth's direct descendants, but it can also be granted to outsiders that join the Coven. The only other practitioners are the small priesthood that exists on Sheol, who use its powers to heal members of their congregation and to venerate their Archon. Blood Magic can be used to many ends, including raising mindless undead servants, inducing rapid decay, creating structures of biological matter, mending wounds or curing disease, and siphoning away the strength and vital energies of others. More powerful practitioners, such as those in Kuth's inner circle, can induce entropy in inorganic matter, turn flesh to ash, and take hold of living matter to turn their enemies into fleshy puppets.

A B I L I T I E S

Kuth has been an accomplished magician for centuries, and has a wealth of knowledge and experience gained from his considerable lifespan. He masterfully commands such primordial forces as darkness and chaos to tear apart his enemies or imbue himself with unnatural power. Raising the dead is child's play for him, and he is no stranger to summoning and binding spiritual entities from realms unseen. Magics of the mind are also well within his domain, as he has been known to read thoughts, dominate the weak-willed, and peer through space and time to spy on his enemies and learn forgotten secrets.

Even without his mystic powers, Kuth is a master of deception and manipulation. Adept in playing the emotions and motivations of others to suit his needs like so many stringed musical instruments, he is often embroiled in several staggeringly complex plots at any given time. Lending to his skill in politicking is his considerable knowledge of history and economics, which he has brought to bear in developing Sheol as a province of the Empire.

While he has some knowledge of swordsmanship and fencing, Kuth was never much of a warrior, and his skill in arms is rudimentary at best. A common man would still have nearly no chance of overcoming him in hand-to-hand combat, however, as his body is so imbued with mystic power that his strength and speed are both inhuman.

@Dead Cruiser

Yeah, hopefully Kuth won't be Lysvita's overlord, because that would cause some seriously belligerent workplace conflict.

Black Sun (A Warhammer/ Game of Thrones /Crusader Kings Hybrid)

IIIIIIIINCOMING CHARACTER SHEET! BRACE YOURSELVES FOR IMPACT!

Exarch: Lysvita

Exarch Lysvita, The Lady of of the Galans

Description:
The Lady of the Galans is not human. She is the last of the Angelos, a now-dead people reknown for their radiance, and their unmistakable wings, great branches that, when fully extended, can measure up to 20 meters across. Tall by human standards, she is almost six feet in height. Her eyes are shining light, the iris a burning fire where one would expect dull brown or blue. Her features are more handsome than beautiful, giving her an air of nobility and wisdom. Finally, she permeates a faint light at all times, setting her apart from those around her.

Personality and Drive:
Lysvita is at once both selfless beyond measure, and yet deep down selfish. She does genuinely care for the lives of others; her mission in this world, since the fall of Old Galenave, has always been to protect her people and the lives of humanity at large. For this cause, she would lay down her own life without hesitation. She sees herself- and is seen by others- as a paragon of virtue and nobility, defending the weak from the strong in this cruel world.

Nevertheless, she has the unfortunate tendency to disregard the wishes and decisions of others, imposing her own vision of "good" on a world that does not necessarily share her views nor desire her protection. Her greatest such act was abandoning Old Galenave to its death in days of old, her decision to ignore the consensus of the Elders to stand against Izalith, perhaps dooming that great city to destruction. Her arrogance in her world view has often blinded her to harm she has committed inadvertently.

History:
Lysvita was born an Angelos. Her people were a magical and proud, their kind not succumbing to the touch of age or illness. Their purpose, given to them by the gods, was to shepherd the souls of the dead in Ethica to their final resting places. Their city in this world, Old Galenave, was a wonder to behold, a gilded work of art of beauty unmatched then or now. Though few in number, they ruled over their own principality in the east of what is now the Empire. In exchange for tribute and labor, the Council of the Elders, the ruling body of the oldest and most powerful of the Angelos, saw to the protection and well being of their human subjects.

Lysvita never conformed to the ideals of her kin. Where the Angelos were focused on the celestial world, on the affairs of spirits, souls and gods, she was enthralled with the material world in which they lived, and argued vehemently for the cause of the humans their kind ruled over, the Galans. Because of her unorthodox views, and also her relative weakness compared to the older Angelos, she was not influential nor particularly noteworthy in their order of the world.

And then the legions of Izalith came.

Near seventy years ago, the Elders, alarmed by Mother Night's aggressive expansion and offended by the interference of a deity in worldly matters, resolved to stand against the dark goddess. Having been the masters of their corner of the world for thousands of years, they assumed their arcane might would be sufficient to defeat her. They were wrong. Rather than risk the damaging of their beloved metropolis, the Angelos departed from Old Galenave with all their power, a shining army of light that marched to confront the dark. It was on the fields of Infernath that the Elders chose to meet Mother Night in battle.

What occurred on that field is remembered by few, those who could boast to having survived that terrible day being rare. The Angelos weaved their magic to crack open the land and turn the grass to ash, turning Infernath into a field of fire that still today burns hot from their residue. But they had, in their vanity, opposed a god; the Angelos were nearly wiped out there and then. The few survivors- Lysvita included- limped back to Old Galenave a shadow of their former selves. The surviving Elders decided to close the gates and make a stand in their golden city.

However, Lysvita had seen first hand the horrors their war had inflicted upon the Galans, of the rape and ruin brought onto every village between the Empire and Old Galenave by the fighting. She knew that a siege would condemn thousands of innocents to death for a hopeless cause. Therefore, she rallied all those who would follow her, and fled the city, earning her infamy among the Angelos as a craven and betrayer. She was not there when the imperial armies arrived at the walls of the city, when they stormed its walls and put its inhabitants to the sword. The Angelos fought to the last, and were killed to the last. The city was sacked savagely for days, ending only when the spires, no longer supported by the magic of their builders, began to crumble into the sea. And so Old Galenave was swept away, the golden city now a ruined blight on the land.

Meanwhile, Lysvita led her host as far away as possible, making their way south along the coast. Hers was not an army, but rather a starving rabble that devoured everything in its path. Conditions in their long march were terrible, and thousands died of disease, starvation, thirst and exposure. Still, they continued, until they came face to face with an army sworn to Izalith, led by an Archon. The galans were too weak to lift a spear, even if they had the ability to fight, which they didn't; all the warriors had died at Infernath, or on the walls of Old Galenave. Seeing no other way to save her people, Lysvita committed an act that would surely have the Angelos spitting on her from beyond the grave. She bent the knee to Mother Night, and the Empire.

The Galans were permitted to settle on that spot. There, they founded New Galenave. In the many years since then, what was once a collection of huts and tents has grown into an important Imperial port, and one of the major cities in the south of the Empire. The Lady of the Galans has ensured their safety by fighting on distant battlefields in the name of Izalith, spreading death to protect the lives of her people. The irony is not lost on her.

Armaments:

• Lysvita's Armor: Of the same kind that every Angelos received upon coming of age, Lysvita's armor is no mere suit of bronze. The power imbued in it deflects blows aimed at her, by muddling the mind of those who would do her harm and making them miss. Of course, this effect scales depending on how focused the foe is on the attack: a hail of arrows, not being aimed at anything in particular, would pass by her harmlessly, while a single attacker utterly concentrated on striking her down would not be affected. Additionally, this power declines depending on the target's own power. Archons are completely immune to its effects. Still, even without this magical phenomenon, the suit is of the finest quality, and can resist blows very well.
• The Sword of Akasha: One of the few things Lysvita managed to save from the destruction of Old Galenave, the Sword of Akasha is an blade as old as the Angelos themselves, its material neither bronze nor iron, seemingly indestructible no matter how many blows are rained down on it. Tied to her will as its wielder, the Sword of Akasha bursts into flames when she is enraged in battle. Such a sword can cook a man alive.

Abilities:
Though a mere shadow of what the great Angelos elders wrought, Lysvita does possess her own magical powers that mark her as an exarch. Her touch cures sickness, heals flesh and mends bone, and she has been known to bring the dying back from their deathbeds from time to time. Additionally, she the ability to link her own life with another, as she has done with Aethelhelm. This is a power she has only used once, however.

Aside from these, she also has mother mundane abilities. She can, of course, fly, thanks to the great wings that sprout from her back. This is very tiring, however, and she can't make long distances like that. She is also skilled with the sword in a way that only one who has trained in that art for a hundred years can be.

Opinions:

N/A

Hero:Aethelhelm the Undying

Aethelhelm 'the Undying'
Hero of Galenave, the Sword of Lysvita

"I never asked to be given this curse. Then again, none of us ask for the 'gifts' with which fate mocks us."

Description:
Aethelhelm is old in body, and older in mind. Though still as large as he was in his prime, his mop of black hair has withered away to slivers of silver, and his skin is taught on his bones. Notably, he is covered in scars, the marks of a dozen deaths. All over his body, one can see marks where spears have pierced him and blades have bit into his flesh. His right eye is missing, leaving only a stitched patch of skin there. The remaining eye is sunken, and his gaze is weary.

Personality and Drive:
The Hero of Galenave is a dour and serious man, not one prone to smiles or joviality. He views the world in with jaded lens, and is perpetually pessimistic. Though he sees evil everywhere he looks, he still strives to protect the defenseless of the world, even though that seems more and more like a fool's errand with every passing year. He takes no precautions for his own life, and throws himself heedlessly into danger to protect others, knowing that no matter how many times he is struck down, he never truly dies.

He is tired of the world and its horrors, and his only remaining wish is to die in the service of others. The Lady's touch prevents him from dying, however, and so he goes on and on, serving her in the hopes that one day she will release him form what he views as a curse. He never asked to be chosen by Lysvita; all he can do is keep going.

Background:
The man today known as the hero of Galenave was not born a Galan. He was born seventy five years ago among the Caester, a northern people who resisted the Empire's march rather than be absorbed by it. Their homeland was destroyed, and their people displaced, Aethelhelm included. As a young man barely out of boyhood, he was thus forced into exile far away from home. On his wanderings, he came near the city of New Galenave, and in that region saved a traveler's life from a group of brigands, at the cost of a spear in the gut. The wound was mortal, and the Galan healers were unable to do anything for him.

Lysvita heard of his plight, however, and healed him with a touch. In his heart, she saw something she approved of, and left her mark on his flesh,a pair of outstretched wings. Grateful for his life, he swore himself to her service. He did not truly understood what the mark on his neck meant until the day a foeman slit his throat on a battlefield. To his own surprise, and certainly that of his enemy, the wound closed itself, and he found himself rising. The gift the Lady had given him was one of life: she had tied his life to hers. From then on, he could never die for good.

For decades, he has killed for the Lady, for some archon he never met, and for some god he cared nothing for. Every time he has come back from death, he has felt more and more drained, almost fatigued. He can no longer bring himself to look upon the world with wonder and optimism. Everywhere he looks, he sees death and meaningless pain. He continues to serve, however, as he always has.

Armaments:
Aethelhelm does not have any particular magical equipment. Instead, he wears a suit of iron, a rarity almost beyond price in the Empire. In battle, he wields a giant two handed sword, which he uses to deadly effect.

Skills:
Though trained in the spear as any warrior is, his main expertise is with a blade. Specifically, a very big one. Almost since the day he was born he has been defending himself with his sword arm, and he has become one of the great swordsmen of the age, facilitated of course by his unnaturally long lifespan. He knows how to survive alone in the wilderness, as often required by those who ride to war. His skills in matters other than bloodletting are much lesser; though intelligent, he has always felt his place was in danger, with a weapon in hand.

(@GreivousKhan)