Name: Roland Arrylhill

Nicknames: The Exile of Arryl, The White Tiger, Shamanslayer (among others, not all of which are cast in a flattering light…)

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 35

Hair: Roland’s hair has been an inexplicably pure white from the day he was born. He keeps it cropped close to his skull to ensure it doesn’t get in the way.

Skin: Caucasian, although years of travel have left it a tanned, weathered brown.

Eyes: A pale, pale grey.

Height: 6’2”

Weight: 200lb

Place of Birth: A small farmstead half a day’s ride from the city of Arryl, the southernmost major city on Aega. Due to its close proximity to Siilara, Arryl prospers greatly from trading with their southern neighbours and selling these goods across Aega.

Appearance:

Roland cuts an intimidating figure. One could reach this conclusion by simply taking in his basic characteristics: taller than average, with wide, strong shoulders and thickly knotted arms, it is clear that his lifestyle requires a great deal of strength; his crooked nose and short, military style haircut confirm that this physical lifestyle involves combat. His light eyes are serious, made even more so by his downturned brows; they give him a look of constant disapproval, and if there is even a shred of humour in those eyes, it is not easy to see. Similarly, his mouth curves down slightly, with no appearance of good faith or humour. There is an assuredness to the way he walks, as well as a sense of grace which one would not expect in one his size. Where some walk gingerly, hesitantly, Roland’s steps firmly, as if daring anyone to challenge his right to go where he pleases (this self-confidence has allowed him to bluff entry into many places which would otherwise be barred to him).

From all of this alone it is obvious exactly what his profession is, yet there is something else. Something about his movements – so slow, smooth and confident – suggests a power of great magnitude, ready to be unleashed at any time – a power which makes him seem far older than his 25 years. It is how he gained the moniker of White Tiger: like a great beast, he can go from sinuous and graceful to an explosion of sheer force in the blink of an eye. Those who know him by reputation before meeting him quickly understand this; those who do not tend to draw the same comparison before long.

Occupation in the frontier forces: Guard-cum-explorer. Wherever a sword and a brain are needed, Roland will be.

Gear of choice:

As Roland’s style of fighting tends more towards mobility and precisely applied power, he prefers not to be hindered by the hefty steel armour that most warriors in his profession tend towards. He opts instead for leather: a four-piece set of chest piece, greaves, boots and gloves that are all scarred and pitted, yet obviously of a high quality. His thick coat is a deep grey that was obviously once black, and falls to his boots as well as having a very concealing hood. He can comfortably sleep in his armour – and has on many occasions – but also carries around civilian clothes to wear when there is no impending danger.

His weapon of choice is Doluk-Sum: a hand-and-a-half sword forged in the deepest fires of Grah-Nglak, it is less of a weapon and more of a precision instrument in Roland’s hands. Tough enough to battle through an entire army without dulling, and with a handle long enough to be wielded either with a shield or on its own, Doluk-Sum was forged specifically for Roland and is practically an extension of his arm.

He also carries a small, simple dagger on his person at all times as a final precaution.

Positive Personality Traits: Practical, Level-headed, Cunning, Independent

Negative Personality Traits: Self-serving, difficulty empathising with others, overly cautious

Misc. Quirks: Roland has a ritual every morning: after rising, he will spend an hour going through the motions of the kithan, a series of movements on which his fighting style is based (think Tai Chi). This is followed by bathing then breakfast – every morning without fail.

Likes: Having a clear objective in front of him, travelling, his own company, finding the best possible solution to a problem.

Dislikes: Rash decision-making, loud spaces, combat, racial prejudices.

Hobbies: Chess, travelling, history, meditation (exercising and training his mental magic).

Paired character: Devika

Connection with paired character: Roland was hired by Devika while she was travelling through Aega, and travelled back with her to Grah-Nglak to collect his payment afterwards. The two have been travelling partners for about half a year, now.

Fantastico

History:

Comment from the author:

Fame is a funny thing. It can drive a man to narcissism, to a love for oneself bordering madness. It can take the simplest tale and blow it up to such extreme proportions that it is impossible to see the link between original and retold. Such is the case in the story you are about to read. This writer has travelled far in order to glean the truth about The Exile of Arryl; of what few facts were found, fewer can be confirmed:

The man is truly a gifted swordsman, and despite over a year of searching, this writer has been unable to find another warrior who has learned the same technique. Few could best him in single combat were it just blade against blade. However, his magical prowess is limited, if not nonexistent. He has achieved through a meditation process unknown to this writer a way of 'blocking' magics cast against his mind. In a way, he has created walls around his consciousness which would no doubt be difficult to break; whether any have attempted is unknown.

Apart from this, the tale that unfolds below has been created from second- and third-hand stories; it is up to the reader's discretion how much they decide is fact, and how much is fiction.]

The White Tiger, the iron fist of the Three Branch Mercenary Company, he who defeated Cyrett’s champion in single combat – no one would have ever predicted that this man was once Roland, son of Richard the squash farmer. Somewhat of a legend in his own time, Roland had much more humble beginnings than most of the stories say.

Roland’s father was an alcoholic – and a violent one at that. His mother Ana was kind-hearted, petite and gentle. It was a marriage doomed to misery from the beginning. The two had five children, but only the middle child, Roland, made it past ten. Perhaps this was what drove Richard to drinking, or perhaps it was the boredom of working the farm; whatever it was, it lead to the suffering of his wife and only child. From the age of five Roland was sinking a spade into frozen dirt before the sun had risen, favouring one wrist over the other because his father had been mad at him the night before. After a hard day’s work, he’d return to his mother, who would whisper sweet words to him through the side of her mouth that wasn’t too swollen to talk.

The incessant hours of tilling, sowing and harvesting made Roland strong, and he had always been big for his age anyway – yet graceful in a way his father labelled ‘womanly’. It was on his tenth birthday that Roland realised he could fight back against his father.

A week later, Richard Arrylhill was dead. Roland thought his mother would be ecstatic, happy to finally be free of the shadow of her husband; the only thing she could sob out was ‘Leave’. So it was on the day of his father’s death that Roland left Arryl, and he has not returned since. News fast spread once Ana was found, and as Roland’s fame grew, so too did his name in his own city: the father-killer, the Exile of Arryl.

There was only one way to travel, and that was north, but Roland was unprepared for such a journey. He had never travelled more than a day away from his home before, and as such it is no surprise that he collapsed out of exhaustion and dehydration the morning after leaving. Here is where his story would end, were it not for the fact that a small group of sellswords from Three Branch weren’t heading back to their headquarters along the same road. Even then, Roland no doubt would have been left for dead – Three Branch swords aren’t known for their charity – were it not for the fact that Shelza-Durm, the ancient half-elf half-orc matron of the Three Branch Mercenaries, was accompanying the group. She saw potential for greatness in Roland, and oversaw his training personally, both in mind and in body. It is she who is responsible for his unique fighting style, and she who his responsible for his magical prowess in keeping his mind sealed.

Ten years under Shelza-Durm’s tutelage flew by, and more would have followed were it not for the mistress’ death – she was ancient to the point that no one knew exactly how old she was, but it was not unexpected. Roland was quickly brought in on the inner mechanisms of the guild, and soon began making a name for himself across Aega, both for his skill with the sword and his meticulously careful nature. It has, however, been an empty time: Roland cares little for any but himself, and suffers from extreme isolation when he is not busy; perhaps this is what drives him to such great achievements.

Six months before the expedition to Ialdia, Roland was travelling back to headquarters from a completed contract when he saw a commotion on the road. He quickly discerned what was going on: a group of human men threateningly surrounding a half-Orcish woman. It seemed like things were very quickly going south for the Orcish lass, and Roland prepared to intervene. Racism being the one thing in the world Roland can't stand, he prepared to intervene, when suddenly, something inexplicable happened. Without warning the men started to scream - one fell to his knees and clasped his head with such force it seemed like he would crush his skull, while others seemed paralysed out of fear. However, the magic did not seem to affect one, and drawing a blade, he stepped threateningly towards the woman. Roland acted on instinct: he deftly strode towards the man (who's knees started knocking together as he recognised the white hair of the man who was approaching) and, before the man had a chance to react, rapped him over the head with the hilt of his sword. Shortly after, Roland found himself talking to the woman. Devika, her name was, and they quickly struck a deal: the woman wished to explore the home of her father, and he was happy to accompany her so long as he got paid in the end. This journey eventually lead them back to Grah-Nglak, where he received his payment: Doluk-Sum. He was planning on returning home when he received a missive sent from Three Branch:

Swords needed for expedition to Ialdia. Payment the likes of which you’ve never seen.

It was more than enough of an incentive for Roland to accompany Devika into the unknown.