Race: Gnome
Gender: Female
Age: 70 (relatively young for a gnome)
Occupation: Necromancer and “dark overlord of the undead rabbit-mount frog cavalry.”
Appearance:
Height: 4'3
Weight: 60lbs
Weaponry: Magic... and her own klutzy nature... GTFO WHILE YOU CANNNNN. On the serious side, Kollista is known for drain magic and a few basic gaze spells (such as fear and disarm) and has a tendency to use her raise-dead abilities on three subjects unless convinced otherwise: frogs, rabbits, and squirrels. She’s not useless in a fight; in fact, she’s quite capable. It’s her experiments you have to look out for. She likes to toy with potion-making and phylactery/immortality crafting. She also carries a scythe that she often uses to focus her power.
History/Background: The Letter of Introduction crafted for Kollista by my good friend so she would come to town in proper gnomeish style for Orn (the larp I originally used her for). It, I believe, explains her quite satisfactorily.

"Dear Recipient:
It is my greatest pleasure and deepest sympathy to write this letter of introduction to you and to pronounce the consumptive and pestiferous gnome that bears it the title of Journeyman in the field of necromantic arts. Kollista Nightbane, daughter of Linkoln Sparkcaster, son of Markholm Lightgear, son of Lansing Whizbang, son of Assic Photobolt, son of Indi Brighteyes, son of Waite the Cuthroat has proven herself to be a gnome of widely known reputation and cataclysmic proportions. She is a bringer of tears and a destroyer of labs, ruiner of crops, defiler of dairy, and a little firecracker of catastrophy.

It is with great honor that I send her on her way with her first hat, and grant her the title of Journey. May her footsteps lead her away from my door, and to someone with far more patience than I.

May the gears forever turn,
Master Newton Bonefinger, disciple of Fingers D'Red, student of Cassic the Round, pupil of Antoineti of the Demonic Gaze, son and student of Liolam Cogsmith first of our order and bedmate of Hexodus.

She's your problem now!"

Age: 34
Race: Human
Class: Warrior - Monster Hunter
Appearance:[b/]

[b]Personality: Quiet and thoughtful, Merek is a grizzled man just past his physical prime with a cynical view of the world. Problems and pains resurfacing from his active youth, Merek is sarcastic and blunt, holding a rather dry sense of humor. He does not fare well with companions, slow like and even slower to trust his fellow soldiers, and will only band with others when he has something to gain from the ordeal. Merek is driven by greed, first and foremost, seeking to reclaim the respect and prosperity his family once held, but succeeds only in becoming broker with more enemies. In battle, Merek is ruthless and silent, giving little more than grunts and groans away. His strategies change erratically, as most are made up on the spot, and his routine is hard to keep track of as he rarely uses the same one. One thing that is constant with Merek, however, is his love to tell stories of his adventures, fighting hideous beasts and facing unbeatable odds with only scars to confirm their factuality.

A swordsman, Merek has a deep respect and liking of others that share his passion, willing to talk and compare blades with nearly anyone. Self-taught, he is constantly asking for pointers and advice even at his age, and is a master of no certain style. Merek is an alcoholic and a gambler, two traits that go well together, and has amassed considerable debt to numerous persons through lost games. These range from simple games, like cards and dice, to physical competitions, like brawls and races. Merek cannot recall having a single friend, often travelling before he develops relationships, and prefers to keep business business. Originally trained to be a Holy Man, Merek is quite religious and superstitious, although he still does what he wants regardless of hid god's wishes.

History: The third child of Carter and Lilian Aesland, Merek was born on a cold Winter day during a horrendous blizzard. An infancy stricken with disease and illness, Merek was a sickly young lad with a dark future. Developing at a slow pace, Merek was expected to die from weakness before the first Spring showers. However, these showers came and went, and Merek recovered from his bouts of Pneumonia and Cholera almost by miracle; by summer, half a year old, Merek was running like a wolf.

As the third son of a noble family, Merek was not taught subjects that his brother, Carac, was expected to know as the heir, nor the subjects Rowan, the 'spare', would learn. Not destined for a life of politics, Merek was originally raised to become a Holy Man. Merek's childhood was spent in the manor's Priory with the monks, learning ancient languages for sermon and meditation, while his brother's learned noble arts such as Horseback-riding and Archery. Merek hated his duties, envious of Carac and Rowan, and shirked his duties to have his own fun. Merek would hide in the manor in the morning, long before the rest of the household would awake, to watch the family's guards train and condition themselves. He dreamed of chivalrous knights slaying monsters and rescuing maidens, showered in riches and praise. Instead, he was forced to chant and praise, a monk-in-training.

During his tenth summer, Merek's family came onto a good deal of land from conquests made by the Aesland Knights during a skirmish against a neighboring village, rich with fertile land and herds of deer, which drew settlers from all coners of the nation. Almost overnight, by the time Merek was 13, the Aeslands were Lords over a small trading village. With great wealth and a decent-sized army, the Aeslands continued their expansion rapidly.

On the eve of his 16th birthday, Merek now very close to being a man of the cloth, the Aeslands came under attack from an unknown enemy. Scores of men were killed in battle against superior foes, and entire regiments of men would disappear almost overnight. The battlefield would lay deserted, littered with bones and discarded equipment. Carac Aesland was now nearly 21, and in order to prove his leadership, was sent with more than half the remaining men to root out the cause of the attacks.

News of the heir went untold, almost as if the man had vanished into thin air. The Aesland family was in an uproar, the future-family Patriarch disappearing without a trace, and with a very-depleted army, the Aeslands were forced to become more cautious. Rowan was set forth as the next heir, while Merek completed his vows. Weeks later, Rowan was next to disappear, missing after a hunt in the forest. Searches of the woods turned up little; not even a body was recovered that could shed some light on the situation. Again, nothing could be found, and Rowan was considered deceased.

Before his 18th Winter, servants and guards would begin disappearing right from the manor grounds, snatched up with only bloodstains confirming their existence. The Aeslands were now nearly destitute, their lands shrinking and their funds draining, and turned to nearly any help they could find. Priests sent to exorcise demons vanished; mercenaries would disappear by the dozens, and the attacks seemed to become more aggressive with time.

The end of the troubles came with the arrival of a mysterious man; claiming he would set an end to the family's troubles in exchange of a reward of his choosing, the Aeslands were desperate enough to accept. The man, grizzled and well into his 50's, did what no other could do, and within a week, the attacks stopped. Returning to the family with an enormous haul in a sack, most likely whatever had been assualting the land, and demanded the family's most prized possession.

In awe of what had occurred, the family was forced to give the man their family treasure; the Aesland Mail, an armor passed down from the first Aesland himself. Merek was much more in awe, and followed the man when he departed. This man would turn out to be a hunter of Monsters, after an ogre that had been hunting the family like game. Begging for an apprenticeship, Merek was reluctantly accepted, the old man in need of someone to take on his place when he died.

The two did not have time to train, instead hunting monsters, where Merek gained his experience. It his from then, until his 24th birthday, that Merek would learn under the man, named Ferendal. Ferandal was pleased with the work Merek had put in, and granted him the title of Monster Hunter for his own, and returned the armor of his family. Forgetting his life he had before, giving sermons in the Chantry, Merek set out to make a name for himself by facing grotesque creatures no-one wanted to have around.

TL;DR: Noble monk turned Monster-Hunter

Weapons/Equipment:

[*]Aesland Mail-
This armor belonged to a long line of Aesland warriors, finally resting onto Merek's hands. This has been modified to fit Merek's style of fighting; being left-handed, Merek lacks armor on his left arm for quicker sword-strikes. His right arm is fitted with plates jutting out at different angles, meant to knock away swords and open up defenses. The armor is a strong steel, tempered to perfection, and weighs roughly 30lbs from the added protection it grants. The collar is furred, taken from the hide of a bear, to keep Merek warm in colder climates.

[*]Merek's Prong
This sword (see picture above) was smithed in a coastal city after defeating a band of Sirens with Ferandel, a gift for his first successful hunt. The blade is a tempered carbon mixed with steel, formed into two blades which sit separated by one another. This is best suited for slashing and stabbing, opening deep wounds with messy tears that would prove hard to heal. This was meant to pierce the tough hides of great beasts, but is just as effective for men.

Other Info: Sorry for the long history. Once I get started, I just can't stop!

Name: Atrus Talan
Age: 23
Race: Human
Appearance: This, but younger.
Personality: Calm, quiet, observant, and on very few occasions, a little odd, Atrus loved his magic to heart and uses it for just about everything that he does in life. He chose to be a battle mage rather than an alchemist in his early teens, but stills knows how to craft a potion or two.
History: Atrus grew up in a community of Mages of all sorts, and just about everyone used the arcane arts in some form or another. He grew up originally as an alchemist, but during his early teens he instead decided to be a battle mage, casting spells for more of an offensive use, and sometimes not always the most practical uses. He grew in his skill over time and eventually sought to travel the world in search of more teachings.
Weapons/Equipment: WIP
Other Info:WIP

Name: Merek Aesland

Age: 34

Race: Human

Class Warrior - Monster Hunter

Appearance:

Personality: Quiet and thoughtful, Merek is a grizzled man just past his physical prime with a cynical view of the world. Problems and pains resurfacing from his active youth, Merek is sarcastic and blunt, holding a rather dry sense of humor. He does not fare well with companions, slow like and even slower to trust his fellow soldiers, and will only band with others when he has something to gain from the ordeal. Merek is driven by greed, first and foremost, seeking to reclaim the respect and prosperity his family once held, but succeeds only in becoming broker with more enemies. In battle, Merek is ruthless and silent, giving little more than grunts and groans away. His strategies change erratically, as most are made up on the spot, and his routine is hard to keep track of as he rarely uses the same one. One thing that is constant with Merek, however, is his love to tell stories of his adventures, fighting hideous beasts and facing unbeatable odds with only scars to confirm their factuality.

A swordsman, Merek has a deep respect and liking of others that share his passion, willing to talk and compare blades with nearly anyone. Self-taught, he is constantly asking for pointers and advice even at his age, and is a master of no certain style. Merek is an alcoholic and a gambler, two traits that go well together, and has amassed considerable debt to numerous persons through lost games. These range from simple games, like cards and dice, to physical competitions, like brawls and races. Merek cannot recall having a single friend, often travelling before he develops relationships, and prefers to keep business business. Originally trained to be a Holy Man, Merek is quite religious and superstitious, although he still does what he wants regardless of hid god's wishes.

History: The third child of Carter and Lilian Aesland, Merek was born on a cold Winter day during a horrendous blizzard. An infancy stricken with disease and illness, Merek was a sickly young lad with a dark future. Developing at a slow pace, Merek was expected to die from weakness before the first Spring showers. However, these showers came and went, and Merek recovered from his bouts of Pneumonia and Cholera almost by miracle; by summer, half a year old, Merek was running like a wolf.

As the third son of a noble family, Merek was not taught subjects that his brother, Carac, was expected to know as the heir, nor the subjects Rowan, the 'spare', would learn. Not destined for a life of politics, Merek was originally raised to become a Holy Man. Merek's childhood was spent in the manor's Priory with the monks, learning ancient languages for sermon and meditation, while his brother's learned noble arts such as Horseback-riding and Archery. Merek hated his duties, envious of Carac and Rowan, and shirked his duties to have his own fun. Merek would hide in the manor in the morning, long before the rest of the household would awake, to watch the family's guards train and condition themselves. He dreamed of chivalrous knights slaying monsters and rescuing maidens, showered in riches and praise. Instead, he was forced to chant and praise, a monk-in-training.

During his tenth summer, Merek's family came onto a good deal of land from conquests made by the Aesland Knights during a skirmish against a neighboring village, rich with fertile land and herds of deer, which drew settlers from all coners of the nation. Almost overnight, by the time Merek was 13, the Aeslands were Lords over a small trading village. With great wealth and a decent-sized army, the Aeslands continued their expansion rapidly.

On the eve of his 16th birthday, Merek now very close to being a man of the cloth, the Aeslands came under attack from an unknown enemy. Scores of men were killed in battle against superior foes, and entire regiments of men would disappear almost overnight. The battlefield would lay deserted, littered with bones and discarded equipment. Carac Aesland was now nearly 21, and in order to prove his leadership, was sent with more than half the remaining men to root out the cause of the attacks.

News of the heir went untold, almost as if the man had vanished into thin air. The Aesland family was in an uproar, the future-family Patriarch disappearing without a trace, and with a very-depleted army, the Aeslands were forced to become more cautious. Rowan was set forth as the next heir, while Merek completed his vows. Weeks later, Rowan was next to disappear, missing after a hunt in the forest. Searches of the woods turned up little; not even a body was recovered that could shed some light on the situation. Again, nothing could be found, and Rowan was considered deceased.

Before his 18th Winter, servants and guards would begin disappearing right from the manor grounds, snatched up with only bloodstains confirming their existence. The Aeslands were now nearly destitute, their lands shrinking and their funds draining, and turned to nearly any help they could find. Priests sent to exorcise demons vanished; mercenaries would disappear by the dozens, and the attacks seemed to become more aggressive with time.

The end of the troubles came with the arrival of a mysterious man; claiming he would set an end to the family's troubles in exchange of a reward of his choosing, the Aeslands were desperate enough to accept. The man, grizzled and well into his 50's, did what no other could do, and within a week, the attacks stopped. Returning to the family with an enormous haul in a sack, most likely whatever had been assualting the land, and demanded the family's most prized possession.

In awe of what had occurred, the family was forced to give the man their family treasure; the Aesland Mail, an armor passed down from the first Aesland himself. Merek was much more in awe, and followed the man when he departed. This man would turn out to be a hunter of Monsters, after an ogre that had been hunting the family like game. Begging for an apprenticeship, Merek was reluctantly accepted, the old man in need of someone to take on his place when he died.

The two did not have time to train, instead hunting monsters, where Merek gained his experience. It his from then, until his 24th birthday, that Merek would learn under the man, named Ferendal. Ferandal was pleased with the work Merek had put in, and granted him the title of Monster Hunter for his own, and returned the armor of his family. Forgetting his life he had before, giving sermons in the Chantry, Merek set out to make a name for himself by facing grotesque creatures no-one wanted to have around.

TL;DR: Noble monk turned Monster-Hunter

Weapons/Equipment:

[*]Aesland Mail- http://aradanicostumes.com/news/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/hero.png
This armor belonged to a long line of Aesland warriors, finally resting onto Merek's hands. This has been modified to fit Merek's style of fighting; being left-handed, Merek lacks armor on his left arm for quicker sword-strikes. His right arm is fitted with plates jutting out at different angles, meant to knock away swords and open up defenses. The armor is a strong steel, tempered to perfection, and weighs roughly 30lbs from the added protection it grants. The collar is furred, taken from the hide of a bear, to keep Merek warm in colder climates.

[*]Merek's Prong
This sword (see picture above) was smithed in a coastal city after defeating a band of Sirens with Ferandel, a gift for his first successful hunt. The blade is a tempered carbon mixed with steel, formed into two blades which sit separated by one another. This is best suited for slashing and stabbing, opening deep wounds with messy tears that would prove hard to heal. This was meant to pierce the tough hides of great beasts, but is just as effective for men.

Other Info: Sorry for the long history. Once I get started, I just can't stop!