Character sheet Name: Fenris Laski Age: 34 Gender: Male Race: Human - Firen Appearance:  Personality: Fenris is one part veteran soldier and one part religious devote. He is the proverbial hybrid of a scholar and a front-line soldier, always reciting chants from The Book of the Holy Light during his day to day life while still not suffering a bit for his lack of focus on the battlefield. After a battle is over, he can often be seen performing the Last Rite over the dying men before plunging his sword into their body. He will never betray the duty he has to his Goddess, and refuses to part with his belief even when the world becomes a most unholy place. He is, on the contrary from his religious beliefs, a very cunning person. Often times using his power as a Guardian to force people to adhere to his plan or to give up what they need. Even though he is young in his time with a Guardian, he still commands respect by the way of his sheer size and through his skills as a leader. Though he has grown saddened as more and more of his comrades find themselves hearing their last rite from. The count of those he has lost keeps growing no matter how many dark beasts he sends back to the underworld. Character type and traits: Guardian of the Light – Positive: Natural born leader, Religious Negative: Strict, Cunning History: Fenris came to Feel la Den when he was just a boy. His father was a deserter, who traveled under the guise of religious pilgrimage, but secretly, he was running from his old lord. The family of three quickly learned very quickly that the religious might that was the Guardians of the Light and their Templar trainee's were not ones to forgive a deserter so easily. Fenris remembers very little of what happened in his first few weeks in the village outside the stronghold, but he remembers one event in particular. The first was when the Guardians passed judgment on his father. He was forced to watch as his fathers head was removed by the Axe of the executioner. The second was on the same day, when the Guardians took him from his mother and pressed him into the Knight training program. He spent the next twelve years in training to become a deadly warrior, a skilled leader and above all else; an example of the gods in flesh. He became well versed in the holy scriptures, as well as the application of them. On his eighteenth birthday, he was a recruit no longer. He was given his Templar sword and armor and was selected to be one of the select few to began his training anew, this time towards becoming one of the Guardians of the Light. He spent five years roaming with such a Guardian, learning their ways and training his swordsmen ship even further. Eventually he passed the initiation and became a Guardian in his own right. His first task as a Guardian was to take up the mantle of a recruiter, and take a Templar under his wings and train them as he was trained, as was the ways of the Guardians. Fate would have it that two years later, he and his Templar found themselves far away from the massacre that happened at the castle. His Templar recruit wanted to head back and face the darkness head on, but Fenris knew better. He knew the only way for it to reach the east was over the Bridge, and he knew that it would take them months to reach the destination. So, acting on his authority as a Guardian, Fenris began taking in as many recruits as he could. Bandits, thieves, farmers, rangers, iron foot and even merchants were conscripted. While they did not make for the most dedicated of recruits, the threat of the darkness and the prospects of them ever surviving it alone were not good. He and his small militia now stand with the defenders by the Sky Bridge. Even as they get driven back, they still fight strong. Equipment: -Guardian Long Sword -Guardian Plate Armor -Small satchel of provisions; while it is not enough for sustained travel -A pair of normal clothes for when he is not in armor. Other: (He is the only recorded Guardian to survive; with every other one either dead at Feer la Den or killed along the way. As such many people look to him for spiritual guidance and assistance.)

**Name:** Roger Maltuits (Mal-too-its) **Age:** 29 **Gender:** Male **Race:** Human -- Firen **Appearance:** - Height: 5'12 - Hair: Medium length, black and is normally in 'helmet hair' condition. No facial hair. - Eyes: Hazelnut brown - Build: Muscular - Skin tone: Slightly tanned - a variety of minor scars along his upper body, primarily upon his arms. A particularly nasty scar located on his right shoulder **Personality:** Roger is one to get straight to the point, caring little about tiptoeing around most issues. When a conversation is happening, he usually ends up being polite and letting those in the conversation speak as they would, only interrupting if he feels it's necessary. Has little interest in making lasting friends, except for work purposes. Feels money should be earned by actual work or labor, not given and taken freely. He doesn't normally accept criminal contracts, preferring to stay on the good side of the law. **Character type:** Hillklag Sellsword = **traits**: *Positive* Brave, Loyal / *Negative* Arrogant, nonspiritual **History:** Roger had finished a contract in a nearby town, one he had been doing for nearly a year. The job itself wasn't exactly something he liked doing, playing the scary bodyguard of a crooked and vile merchant. None of the townsfolk could fight him, though a few had tried. He didn't kill anyone, simply giving them a minor scar or scare. The local guardsmen couldn't do anything about him either, primarily because he didn't break any rules or laws, though they disliked him almost as much as they disliked the merchant. However, when the time came to when the contract was at an end and the merchant offered to renew it, Roger refused and made his way to leave town. The merchant didn't try to stop him as he could easily hire more thugs for a cheaper price from the local pub. With that, Roger managed to hitch a ride with a small caravan, wondering if the next job would be more fulfilling. **Equipment:** - a hand-and-a-half sword (Primary weapon, can be used with one or two hands) - a dagger (Secondary weapon, normally used in his left hand; either with or without his primary weapon) - satchel with various papers, blank & written. Also has an ink & quill to write with. - backpack with supplies - [golden shoulder-piece](http://fashioncos.com/onlineshop/images/ffsephirothshoulderpads_1.jpg.jpg) on right arm with Hillklag symbol - leather armour and [helmet](http://www.medievalcollectibles.com/images/Product/large/MCI-2730.png). Armour colours mostly consists of browns with a bit of black to contrast it. **Other:** He's mute & ambidextrous.

Name: Maro Heman Age: 27 Gender: Male Race: Firen Appearance: Brown, short hair clumsily hangs over a long, cold face. Bright amber eyes, set within their sockets are no stranger to the harshness they have seen. He stands at 5'11. weighing nearly 175lbs. He wears plain clothes when the chance arrives, but that is seldom. A goatee gorgeously compliments his eyes and mouth. giving him a charming look that can deceive many. Personality: Maro has always been an Intuitive man and may rely on others to make decisions. He is also self-confident and May judge things too quickly, before getting to know what or who it is. Maro can also be charming and energetic when he wants to be, but lately, he's been repressing his emotions but always optimistic about the future. Character type and traits: Templar Knight. Positive: Optimistic. Negative: Arrogant, Aggressive, and Self-Centered History: Maro Heman was born a Firen in the town of Del'Fe, a small place under the protection of Feer La Den, to a prominent merchant family. His father was a bartering man, who traded in anything he could get his hands on, once bartering a bag of spice, all the way up to a fine horse and Maro would have been one to, if it were not for his other desires. These desires became a fixation that would cause him to become a templar, under the great Knights of the Light, and where everyone said he couldn't do it, wouldn't make it, he proved them wrong. His father grew furious at the thought of his eldest son not following in his footsteps, it was his duty to continue the lineage of Heman Merchants, but Maro knew it was not for him, not his future to follow. He left his town at the age of 24, finally going to fulfill his dream after years of being told no, he gave up on his father's blessing and left one summers morning. His journey began that fateful morning, having only took the essentials for the road and an iron sword his father taught him to wield as if it were an extension of himself. The journey was without problem and he arrived at Feer La Den, not two days later. He fell upon the doorsteps of the temple and knocked. That was three years ago, and Maro is now a fully fledged Templar Knight, but with little real world experience, until the army of darkness came. The assault was relentless, blow after blow fell the great city. He wanted to fight, he wanted to die for his cause, but his task was not one of dying. No, he was on protection detail for high ranking nobles who were fleeing. "Let's go people! Only take what you need to survive, nothing else!" Maro shouted as looked up and down street Cassius, a wealthy part of Feer La Den. Some of the more prominent families lived there, and were trying to take as much valuables as they could, something that made Maro angry. He came upon a family, putting everything that they seemed to own in a cart, and he snapped. "We don't have time for this! You have no horses, and this cart would slow everyone down! Do you not understand that people are dying so that you may flee, yet this is how you repay that sacrifice? By cramming all your valuables into a cart!" Maro took out his sword and pointed it at the father, "You sir need to move, before you are left behind, for no one here will stay and help you now." In the distance, shouts were made, and it was time to leave. Maro sheathed his sword and started to walk away when the father grabbed onto his cart and tried to pull in vain. "Fool, you'll get your family killed for items that may seem valuable, but they are worth less then life itself." He never did see that family again. They rest of the survivors got out, only to see a city in flames and he grew even more upset, cursing the creatures who had done this, yet he knew he could do nothing and left with the others to the Great Divide. Most of the Templar knights left with the families over the bridge where they went to the last bastion across the sky bridge. He would stay behind and cover their escape for now, but he knew he had to move, or he would be the next to die. Equipment: Templar Knight armor Shield of the Templars Sword of the Templars A backpack of food and water skins An elegant black cape A family pendent in the shape of the moon. Other: He likes fresh apple pie

Name: Malcer Greystorm Age: 42 Gender: Male Race: Firen Appearance: Malcer doesn't deviate much from the ordinary look. His cheeks are bony but not sharp. He has a tan skin complexion dirtied with experience and age. He looks like he needs a shave. He also has greasy long brown hair and eyes. His hands are broad, meaty and wrought with age. He stands at about 6'4 - a giant - and weighs about 250 lb. Personality: Malcer is actually more of the tactician than the front liner. His bulk betrays little of his intellect. He can have intelligent conversations about current events, is an excellent chess player and plays the pan flute very well. He values his comrades a lot and will never leave a friend behind. However, as the years go by Malcer on the contrary grows in hardheadedness. If he feels a certain tactic is not working, he does what he looks like seems fit. This on occasion has nearly cost him his rank. He also has a weakness for hard drink. Character type and traits: Berserker Positive Traits: Intelligent, Loyal Negative Traits: Stubborn, Drunkard History: Malcer was born the eldest of five to a blacksmith in a small rural farming village in Firen. He was the tallest and strongest of the village boys around, and thus was always called on for the bulky jobs. However, he was also one of the more intelligent villagers. He bartered so well that he earned the nickname 'The Iavas Boy' among the townsfolk. He was one of the few in the village that could read or write and was always present in dealings with other villages. But most of the time in the village, they needed solid, steady arms and not much else. As he hewed lumber or pulled carts, Malcer felt there had to be something more to this. He wanted to put his abilities to better use than menial labor and occasional bartering. Malcer's chance came when a large band of bandits (lel) invaded the village on the eve of Malcer's 'manhood' party: eighteen years of age. They silenced all the fast runners and the messengers so news was never able to come to the capital. Malcer was strong and smart, so the bandits obviously tried to put a quick end to him as well. But when five of them attempted to slit his throat in bed, they discovered too late Malcer was a light sleeper. He mauled all of his attackers to death, and still in his frenzy rushed out the door, fought his way to the lead bandit and killed him - with his bare hands. The townsfolk made him a village hero and was offered the position of mayor. Malcer politely refused, saying he planned to put his abilities to a much greater use. With a sizable chunk of steel, Malcer for five days worked in his father's forge. He planned to make himself a knight's longsword, a symbol of courage and honor. He got the proportions quite out of shape, seeing as he had rarely seen a sword before and was used to forging farm tools. The sword could only be lifted by Malcer and the other strong men in the village, and even then it required two hands. Happy with his creation anyway, Malcer named his sword Nara, after his then childhood sweetheart. He went abroad and joined the army. He spent more than thirty years in service and was promoted to lieutenant. He would have gotten captain, but his hardheadedness prevented him from some potential promotions. Malcer was at his village and on leave when the invasions started. Malcer's village wasn't of great significance to the hordes, but it was still largely into the west and a company of about two hundred were sent to rout them. None escaped from the village save Malcer himself. He never forgave himself for it, and still has survivor's guilt to this day. With the loss of Malcer's platoon captain and half his regiment in the later onslaughts against Talamor, Malcer was promoted to captain and was given authority to command a company of fifty or so conscripts. Malcer was one of the captains to volunteer their company to defend the Sky Bridge. His men showed no opposition to their superior's command: many of them had lost their families to the horde, and, like their captain, were out for revenge. Equipment: - His greatsword, Nara - Long dagger - Backpack with supplies to survive in the wild for five days - Studded leather armor - Visored helmet Other: Assuming that a Firenian company is made up of a hundred conscripts btw.

**Name:** Amras Siannodel. **Age: **125 **Gender:** Male **Race:** Lebethron Elve. **Appearance:**  ** Personality: ** Amras eschews the fineries of civilised life and enjoys greatly the thrill of the hunt, believing that the hardships of survival build character and gives him his strength. In his eyes, the civilised elves have abandoned this way of life and become weak as a result. He is a passionate person, who follows tends to follow his heart instead of his head, trusting in his instincts and intuition, because they are the best tools for survival in the primal forests. He's also intense in thought and demeanour, with a straight connection between his heart, mind and body. He always says what He really thinks about something and does not hesitate to act when He knows he is doing the right thing. Amras can have two faces, the one they show to to his people and the one He wears for outsiders. To other Elves, He is attentive, kind and protective, but to others he is aloof, uppity and with more than a measure of arrogance. **Character type and traits:** Telcontar (Woodland Ranger.) **Traits** Positive: Loyal, Steadfast. Negitive: Overprotective, Distrusting of other Races. **History:** Aramil, his Brother Balen and his sister,Alysia, all grew up in a small but close knit village,his Father Nukumna sits on the Council of Elders thus Aarmil's education was more advanced for he was being groomed to take his fathers place once he became of age,but the call of the Forest was too strong,and Aramil took the path of his Grandfather Tanure, becoming an Officer in the Elven Defense Forces. **Equipment:** Elven Longbow, Elven longsword, Mithril Armor,3 bottled Mist,Camouflage Paint,5 vails Cold Fire,5 vails Ironwood Balm/1 sack Spidersilk/2 bottles Liquid Light,Travelling Cloak,2 sets of clothes,3 loavesWaybread.small sack of provisions for 5 days.

Name: Illian Age: 23 Gender: Male Race: Glaciem - Amaritudo Appearance: (Descriptions are preferred, but if you find a picture I'll take it. Just no anime pictures.) Very pale skin, of average human height, dark black hair cut raggedly but not overly short, ice blue eyes. Most telling clothing is a dark blue cloak and hood with runes and symbols threaded into the hems. Underneath which he wears a normal shirt and trousers. Dark blue swirl tribal tattoos go up and down his legs and arms, two horizontal lines of dark blue cross his face across his nose (below the eyes and above the mouth). Personality: Illian is a cheerful individual, quick with a witty remark and usually optimistic, that is with his own people. With people from other races he is untrusting, quiet and more than a little bitter, though one would hope with time this attitude would start to thaw (haha). At the moment though he is prone to brooding and quick to anger, the fate of his sister and tribe weigh heavily upon him though in his brighter moments he allows himself to hope. Character type and traits: (Now you will find a general listing for how many traits you get, both positive and negative, below in a little hide box.) Positive: Survivalist Negative: Foolhardy, Does not get on well with other races, inexperienced Glaciem (Mage Variant): Commander of Ice, A Glaciem is a person gifted with innate magical ability. They can fire iceshards from their hands or freeze a charging mans feet to the ground. What they lack in armour and weapons they make up for it in their ability to turn a fight with just one spell. The dangers that a Glaciem posses to others is very well known, and as such the Glaciem are often looked down upon by those who are afraid. Most people will always glance at them with a mistrustful if not downright hostile look. The Glaciem and the other races have never seen eye to eye, the very beginnings of the Glaciem being a disagreement between them. But magic takes practice, and Glaciem are often some of the most intelligent forces on the ground. A keen ally, and a powerful foe. History: (Give us the basics, a paragraph or two will be sufficient. I want our characters to find out about each other as we would in real life. Put frankly, I want us to learn about each other as we go and allow us to grow our characters as we learn more about them.) Illian was born into the tribe of the mammoth, a great creature of fur and tusks from lands far far away told in the stories of Nix. He has only just began his life and at the paltry age of 23 is seen as something of a youngster among the Glaciem. His tribe were among the poorer of the tribes and as a result Illian has had ample opportunity to learn to use his magic, needing it to hunt and other such mundane survival tasks. Illian had never left the icefields before the day he was chased from them, alone and scared by those that are dead. The first sign that something was not right in the world came the day a wounded outsider came stumbling into camp, suffering from extreme hypothermia and frostbite he kept mumbling "They're coming, they're coming" , the outsider didn't stop, though it was clear to all he could not hope to make it to the other-sides of the icefields unaided, he stumbled through the camp, and right out the other side where he was lost to the blizzard. Illian didn't think much of it, just some outsider mad with cold, but his little sister was terrified, she couldn't sleep at night and spent long hours gazing into the snowstorms. The night before it happened she came to him and gave him a gift, a charm she said, to keep him safe, it was a snow leopards tooth made into a necklace with intricate swirls and patterns etched across the surface. The next day at around noon a horn blew in the camp, calling all those able to arms. The Acies of course were the first ready but soon they were joined by the rest of the Tribe, excluding those too elderly or young to be of use in a fight. There were perhaps 60 men and women gathered, they set out at a jog, chieftan leading, to the outskirts of the camp. From there we could see a group of men approaching perhaps 20 strong, only they didn't seem to be right, at such a distance through snowstorms details were hard to makeout but some of them seemed far to big to be men, and yet others were hunched over and almost crawling along. We spread out, the Acies took the center and the rest of us just hung about in loose groups on the flanks. The chieftan stepped forward ready to greet these newcomers if they were friendly. However as they came closer it became evident that they were not going to be friendly, giant beasts wielding longswords and crawling abominations became clear as they approached and the chieftan fell back into the group of Acies. There was a shouted order and we cast, each person casting their own spell, blocks of ice flew through the air, shards like razor blades, blocks as big as boulders smashing through the undead. The undead group fell quickly under the onslaught and we thought ourselves done. We retreated back to camp and the Chieftan ordered us to ready to move on, it would take us at least two days to ready such and the work begun immediately. That night Illians little sister was more terrified than ever before, she refused to sleep and instead sat watch outside, sitting on the cart that would carry our home and all our possessions onward the next day. He was awoken by a scream, a scream that went straight to his heart, turning it to ice instantly, his sisters scream. He scrambled out of bed and stumbled outside, looking around desperately for where the scream had come from. On the floor by the cart was his sister, a small crouching figure leered over her, rusty dagger in hand. Within a second 4 razor sharp stakes of ice were streaking towards the creature at incredible speed. Around the camp there was the sound of movement and as sleep weary people found themselves set upon by undead monsters, the screams of battle too. The camp was in a dark mood as they traveled on, leaving 6 new graves in their wake, 4 of them the watchmen who had fallen to fast to give a warning, 2 of them killed in their beds as the undead rampaged through the camp. Illians sister however, was alive, if just. She traveled on the healers cart as the old woman tried to save her, it was in Nixs hands now she said. Now it was Illian who couldn't sleep, at night he stood watch for as long as he was able before collapsing into bed for a few hours, completely worn out. The dead came many times and each time in greater number, at first the tribe tried to head towards the area of the grand meet, however soon they were facing bands of 200 undead at once, at night and day. Worn out and tired they turned north, no longer able to face the increasing numbers of undead. At first the Glaciem had held the icefields, the weather gave them the advantage and they were powerful, however numbers told and the never ending procession could not be stopped, though few of the Glaciem were killed, the undead not being able to catch them in the blizzards, they were forced back, until finally there was no more icefields to fall back into. Illian was with his tribe for most of the way but they were set upon in the night and he was separated from the group, his last sight of the tribe, a burning cart fading into the distance with a huge hoard of undead chasing after it. Outside the icefields the world is strange and Illian has not even seen the half of it yet! Since then he has been running every day or so it seems, sometimes there is a fight and he fights with those who will but never have they met success, every time a never ending wall of undead pushes them yet further back and he finds himself running again. Equipment: (Anything that you carry. No detail is needed unless it warrants it. Sword, shield and backpack with supplies? Have them in a simple, bullet point list. A family sword with a special and beautiful design? Best explain how it looks ;) ) Dark blue cloak and hood with runes and sigils threaded into the hem. Bone staff intricately carved with swirling patterns with a shard of never-melting ice set on top. Normal clothes underneath the cloak. Bag of provisions (enough for 3 days without resupply) Snow leopard tooth necklace

**Name:** Celine Branwen **Age:** She appears to be in her mid to early twenties **Gender:** Female **Race:** Human - _Lescanzi _ **Appearance: **  A woman of otherworldly beauty which incomprehensibly draws you in. Snowy skin which has never felt the touch of cold steel. Her raven hair is kept long to flow down her shoulders, reaching down to her back. An enigmatic look is often present on her face, pale eyes cold and unreadable. While her stature might not be very impressive she makes up for her lack of physical prowess with a sharp tongue. **Personality:** Intelligent but also cold and detached. Rather emotionless she seldom even smiles. Strong and independent, she doesn't like help from others and does things on her own. This can make her appear distant and untrusting but there is more to her than meets the eye. When it comes to battle she has an incredible sense of self preservation. She will do anything to ensure her own survival. However that doesn't mean she won't help her allies on the battlefield granted her own life is not at risk. She is a religious woman who honors and repects the Dark Sister and her fierce hound. The Goddess to her is like a sister who always has her back, protecting her from unseen enemies. All the customs and beliefs she was taught as a child have stayed with her and she lives by them faithfully. **Character type and traits:** _Battle Witch_ – Positive: Calm, Observant / Negative: Mysterious, secretive **History:** Celine was born in a traveling caravan on one of the many roads in Dalan. An illegitimate child like her many brothers and sisters. Her mother didn't have an occupation worth mentioning and her greatest success was capturing the affection of her father. The man whos identity to this day remains a mystery. Despite the absence of a mother she has fond memories of her childhood. The girl was raised by her grandmother. Though her life was anything but dull. Her grandmother was a Godswife. Many people came to visit her, they asked questions none but she could answer, she found a cure where there was none and offered protection against evil. Aside from her responsibilities as a caretaker the old woman saw to it that her craft was passed on to the next generation, to ensure its survival. Her grandmother taught her the ways of her people and she was trained from an early age in the use of herbs and magic. She lived free of worries until she was about 13 years old, but at that point life changed drastically. Many of the people in Dalan resented the Lescanzi, some feared the bastard children would one day show up and claim the wealth of their noble father. Others were afraid their blood would be tainted by their mongrel ways. It was this resentment that cost Celine her family. They were forced to split up during an attack on their caravan and she was arrested. After she got out she reunited with a distant cousin and had to survive in a harsh world. She learned from her mistakes and used the skills taught to her to escape a life of hell. This event has turned her into the woman she is today. After finally turning life around, she now works as help for hire. By doing so, she hopes to find answers to the events of the past and finally find peace within herself. **Equipment:** - A set of 13 silver throwing knives engraved with magical symbols - Lightweight armor which includes a breastplate, gauntlets and shoulder pieces - Several pouches of healing salves, ointments and powdered incense - Small sack with provisions and other supplies - A set of clothes to wear outside of battle consisting of a pair of form fitting trousers, knee high boots, a peasant blouse and a leather bodice to cinch in her waist **Other: ** -