Name:
Age:
Appearance:
Race:
Allegiance:
Class:
Profession:
Personality:
Biography:
Weapon of Choice:
Powers & Abilities:
Relationships:
Other:

Name:
Haljon

Age:
34

Appearance:


Race:
Human

Allegiance:
Follower of Erthantis

Class:
Warrior

Profession:
Mercenary Knight

Personality:
Haljon is an affable, boisterous character whose mood is rarely darkened. However, he is always in state of pain and rage, and the face he puts on in public is mostly for show to hide this fact. Though he is rarely grim, and makes for a hearty companion otherwise, he is a terrifying man when his public persona is dropped. Haljon is brave and loyal to a fault, a rare thing to find in sellswords such as him. He lives for the thrill of combat, especially with whom he deems a worthy foe; which is a rare thing.

Biography:
Haljon was born into an impoverished noble house with a small amount of land to it's name, his father a Knight of some renown and his mother of low-nobility. From a young age, Haljon had a keen interest in martial pursuits, and could often be found sparring in the courtyard or against other boys, including commoners (though this detail was much frowned upon by his mother). His father began teaching him swordplay at age seven, and while he mainly focused on these lessons, he also managed to learn to read and write, though his penmanship is horrid and his reading laughably slow. Haljon learned basic manners and some arithmetic, though he was never good at either. However, Haljon proved to have a keen eye for strategy and tactics, and he adored military history.

Haljon was formerly taken into his father's tutelage at age fourteen. By this time Haljon was the size of a full-grown man, and his growth showed no signs of slowing. By sixteen he would be taller than his father, who was considered a fairly large man, and by eighteen he would reach his full height of nearly seven feet tall. Along with his enormous size came a tremendous strength, and he was often compared to an ox in that respect. Haljon also proved to be a more than competent swordsman, and one with a surprising amount of speed and agility. Coupled with both a weight and reach advantage, he proved to be quite the formidable foe after he was formally knighted in his twenty-first year.

However, his father's liege-lord was apparently quite power hungry, and decided he was in a prime position to rebel against the Empire and forge a Kingdom of his own. As a vassal of this lord, his father was obligated to obey, and thus Haljon found himself marching to war against the forces of the Empire, much to his dismay. The war was, as could be expected, brutal and swift; the rebellion was crushed mercilessly in a single great battle, the rebellious lord slain on the field. His parents were executed for high treason, though Haljon was spared. Apparently he had acquitted himself quite well in the battle, and he was given the option of swearing fealty to a new lord. With little choice, Haljon accepted, swore an oath, and, in the dark of the night, absconded away to a nearby town. There he bought a horse and traveled to a far corner of the Empire, near it's very frontiers.

He drank away his grief and sorrow in a tavern, selling his horse and most of his clothes and armor to support his new-found love of ale. The only thing he kept was his sword Limbcleaver, a gift from his father. At some point whilst he was drowning his misery in the cups, he was approached by a man who introduced himself as Rikard, the leader of a mercenary company of some renown. He offered Haljon a place in the company, which Haljon accepted with a significant lack of grace. Over the next several years he traveled, fought, bled, ate, shit, and sweated with the company. He learned new skills and made many friends, some of which he believed to be his companions for life. OVer time the company became more and more famous, and thus their services were required by wealthier and more powerful men. Their battles became harder, but they endured and became stronger from it. Until, however, a day came when they were simply far too outnumbered. Rikard had insisted that they could handle any foe, and thus they found themselves surrounded on one lonely hilltop by three times their number. The company fought long and hard, but their numbers slowly dwindled; and although they killed two for every one they lost, they fell one-by-one until not a single one of them was left standing.

Haljon had slain a dozen or more of the enemy, and was only taken down after he was knocked over a shallow cliff ace onto several rocks below. He was presumed dead, but in reality alive, albeit gravely injured. He cursed the nine as he fled the aftermath, and once again turned to the cups to drown his sorrow in. Over time, a deep-seated hatred of the Immortal Nine took root in Haljon's soul, blaming them for the deaths of his parents and brothers-in-arms. He dreamed of the day he could take his vengeance, and that day seemed to come a few short weeks later in the form of a robed man. He spoke to Haljon of Erthantis and his followers and offered them a place in their ranks, and of course he accepted, recalling Rikard approaching him in the same manner, years ago...

Weapon of Choice:
Limbcleaver, his massive five-foot steel longsword.

Powers & Abilities:
Haljon is an excellent tactician and soldier, but has little talent in anything else. He also knows how to ride a horse proficiently, and his tremendous strength coupled with his large height give him a significant advantage in any sword-fight, on top of his already impressive swordsmanship. Haljon knows enough magic to heal minor wounds, but his magical talent does not extend any farther than that. Though some may consider him dim, in reality he is a quick, logical thinker; though sometimes his choices may be clouded by emotion. He can read and write passingly and knows quite a bit about military history.

Relationships:
-Father (deceased)
-Mother (deceased)
-Rikard (deceased)
-Other company members (deceased)

Other:
N/A

The Gryorgan bodily structure is mostly humanoid. They are more muscular, in the sense that gaining muscle is easier for them than it is for humans and that growing fat or even just heavy is next to impossible. Their bones are stronger, thicker and heavier than human bones, almost as if they were made from rock.
Their skin is course and rough to touch, much like running your hand over a piece of sandpaper. It varies greatly in color; from dark brown to almost-white gray.
Almost all Gryorga have freckle-like spots on their shoulders, hips, hand and feet. Some have them other places, such as the face or the back, as well.
Their hair is thicker and courser than most human hair and come in the same variety of color as human hair, with gray and white being normal colors, as well.
Their eyes are made up of only pupil, which gives them excellent night vision, but also makes them incredibly sensitive to light and sunlight in particular. They are nocturnal by nature, though some choose to roam the daylight.
A Gyrorgan tail is made of their rock-like bones; an extension of their spinal cord, which is just as visible as their tail. Despite the appearance of the structure, the entire spine is actually covered in a layer of hard, transparent muscle and a layer of course, transparent skin.
Gryorga have antlers growing from their hairline; these antlers follow the shape of their scalps until their puberty. Depending on the age that a Gryorga hit puberty, their antlers may be more or less curved. The antlers seem to serve no actual purpose, other than determining maturity and/or attractiveness.
Gryorga males are usually taller and leaner than Gryorga females, but their antlers usually grow bigger and wider.
Gryorga have a longer living span than humans. They are considered “children” until they hit puberty, when their antlers stop following the shape of their scalp, which happens sometime between the age of thirty and the age of fifty. They are then “teenagers” until they mature, when their antlers stop growing, which varies from just a decade to a full century. Once they are matured, they seem to stop aging.
Both Gryorgan males and females are able to carry children. Male Gryorga, however, can only carry male children, whereas female Gryorga can carry both males and females. Male Gryorga cannot breastfeed their children and male Gryorgan pregnancy cannot happen by “accident”; in fact, it is a quite odd ritual.

As per tradition, Gryorgan children's surnames are decided by which parent carries them. Their surname will be their “mother”'s first name followed by -tyl if the carrier was a female and by -tael if the carrier was male.

Gryorgan attractiveness is decided by the size of the antlers; especially for the males. Wide hips, large feet and large “freckles” are also considered attractive.
Large breasts, for females, are considered unattractive as is visible muscle mass for both males and females.

Annekra was born during the late summertime, just as the fruits on the trees and bushes were ready to pluck and eat. For the first two weeks of her life, her mother carried her around without ever putting her down. She even slept curved around her newborn daughter. Even her mate and son were not allowed to touch the little female. For three weeks after that, only the father was allowed near the child. Then the son. When Annekra was three months old, her mother finally allowed for the rest of their family to see her.

Annekra was the first female to be born for close to a century. This was not uncommon, though. Many a time had it taken several decades before another female would be born, but the Elders of their tribe had begun worrying.

For the first few years of her life, Annekra had nothing to do but grow, as per Gryorgan customs. Children were to play and grow; no reason to worry their little heads with anything more than that. Some races had their children work or train to become adults, but the Gryorga saw no reason for that; with the length of their lives, there was no rush.
So Annekra grew. Her older brother, Marvia, mocked her about her height; he stood a whole head taller than her, despite him being just a few months older. Annekra, however, was stronger and easily wrestled her brother's face to the dirt. He did not find that funny in the least. Their parents explained to them that it was normal; males were taller than females and females were stronger than males. It was just the course of nature.

By the time Annekra was fifteen, she was done growing. She reached her brother to the chest, but could still ground him like a feather. Her younger brother, Petli, who was six years younger than her had already outgrown her. She could ground him, too.
She had discovered that her small, compact body was easier to maneuver than their long, lean limbs. She could dance around them like a bee circling a flower and they could never touch her.
Her mother, the Weapon Smith of their little village, chose her twentieth birthday to hand Annekra a hammer and smoldering piece of iron for the first time. Annekra thought it was fun. She was a quick learner, too. It was just around her thirtieth birthday that she was promoted from apprentice to courier. She was to transport the weapons to the places they were to be sold.

For nearly a decade, Annekra spent more time away from her family than she did with it. Whenever she was home, she and her brothers would sleep in a pile on their living room floor, rather than their respective beds. It was never long before she had to travel away once more, though.
Many a time, during her travels, did she come upon a group of bandits out to loot her wares. Luckily, she was strong as an ox and would allow no such things. The ones with blades, though, tended to be a bit problematic.
On one of her periods in her home village, she took it upon herself to make some weapons that she could defend herself with. Even if her skin and muscle served like a protection to her inner workings, it still hurt very badly to be cut and it took several months to heal. This was when she made her curved hunting knives. She learned how to use them in real-life situations during her travels.

Her antlers stopped following the curve of her head when she was thirty-eight. There was a party to celebrate the end of her childhood and the beginning of her journey to maturity. Her brother, Marvia, had yet to reach puberty, so Annekra was smug about it. It was a joyous occasion, nonetheless, and ever her brother found it in his heart to be happy for her.

Not that long ago; a month perhaps, at most, Annekra was asked to go to Kathar. Thinking it was a normal courier job, Annekra immediately agreed. Only when she saw the proud sadness in her mother's eyes, did she realize that she would not be returning from this task. She had been asked to smith weapons for the city; the City Guards, even.
She slept in a pile with her brother's, that morning, much to their delight. She left before the sun had set without a goodbye to anyone. It was simply too much, saying goodbye. With a bag full of weapons and the letter from the city, she left her home behind without plans to ever return.