Gender: Male Species: Human Kingdom of Origin: Talbor Physical appearance: Bartleby is a 6 foot 1 tall male with Caucasian white skin, green eyes with dark bags under his eyes, ginger swept back hair and a soul patch beard. He supports a skinny, non athletic build and is missing a single front tooth. He has a high pitched and generally whiny tone of voice, (something along the lines of Yuri Lowenthal), and walks very carefree, with a spring in his step. Attire: Bartleby wears a set of jet black nobleman shoes, and a set of black scale skin leggings wrapped with jet black belts. (All the cool kids are doing it, in Bartleby's defense). Supporting a white frilled shirt, a blue and gold trimmed noblemans vest and a golden cravat and a jet black cloak. To top it all off, he wears an eccentric jet black musketeer styled hat, with a blue feather lodged at the side. Personality: Bartleby is a very selfish and greedy individual, but isn't evil. He'll take whatever he can find and get, having a problem due to being a klepto. He finds himself always attempting to get the best offer out of a situation and will do what is necessary to save himself. Which usually involves running away. He is a coward and a liar, and will always try and bluff himself out of a situation. Bartleby is also a freeloader and a moocher but he generally desires the destruction of the red legion... He'll just try and offer... mortal support... if he can't help it! He can be kind, thoughtful and understanding, but when it comes to survival, he will either run off or demand safety. Hobbies/interests: Bartleby finds enjoyment in drinking, reading and enjoys "collecting" things from everywhere he goes, always having some sort of new item after each place he visits, he likes to call it a hobby. He also enjoys brothels, silence and not being bothered. He also enjoys getting free stuff! Skills: Bartleby's main skills lie in his non combat standpoint. He is great at lying and playing the poker faced expression, giving him excellent negotiating skills, being able to bribe or weasel his way into many establishments. Bartleby also has the ability to forge new identities and can help hide his allies whereabouts with false Intel, giving them a good amount of time to escape from a bad situation if it comes to it. With being a cheating, lying and selfish prat, he also has the ability to lie straight through his teeth with "charm", allowing him to persuade others for information and get Intel for the group that others might not be able to get. Backstory: Bartleby, who had no name at the time, but would later on gain one grew up like many humans within Talbor, as a child he was adopted and raised by a merchant family, though the memories were vague, the only way to describe it was that Bartleby was chosen to be raised merely to help whatever business his adopted parents owned, to help their little scheme flourish therefore as a young boy, Bartleby was raised to be a liar, to cheat and to steal, to use others for personal gain and to never betray his parents. As a child all this information was confusing for the young boy, as he was privately tutored by an arrogant and rough teacher, never even getting to know other children, he was forcibly and abusively banned from interacting with anyone his young age, and grew up in an isolated environment where only his parents could "teach" him about what mattered. Growing up to learn history, merchandising skills, thievery and much more, along the lines of language and culture, but only to exploit, they had a child they could raise as their own little money maker, and had it not been for their "accidental" deaths, it would have continued that way. Fortunately however, when you become too much of an ass in life, life does you straight in it, and that happened smoothly by the time of Bartleby's eleventh birthday. Simply doing his parents chores and being taught the values of "merchandising", a group of armed men broke into the home and slew both his adoptive mother and father, causing the young child to fail to process what just happened, he never had any love for them, as they showed no love back, but the incident left him almost scarred, when the armed men approached him, it had come to his attention that his parents were in fact scum, nothing but dirty thieves and con artists who seeked to con every single individual out of their gold, and was a potential" threat". With nobody else to take care of him, the armed man agree'd to bring him to a much more "profitable business" And that's how Bartleby was first introduced to the life of the stereotypical criminal underground. Raised by his new father, named Daniels, a short, black haired tanned male with a talent for crossbows, he acted more like a father than his older parents ever could. Raising him in the criminal underground, and with his thievery and merchandising skills, his new father Daniels raised him on how to lie properly, and taught him the use of his weapon, however Bartleby wasn't a very brave child, and always simply put on a brave face to fool the people around him, skipping any boring and trivial details, Bartleby continued how to use a crossbow, was taught how to lie and cheat and got taught how to trade much more effectively, and with his effort and his adopted father, the two were able to make quite a small fortune in the black market and with their thievery, selling and conning, the two were impressive at their jobs, and ran this for 9 years until Bartleby was twenty years old... and able to outsmart his own father... and meet an individual which would stay in his life for better or more realistically for worse for the rest of his life. Shortly after the black market business had flourished, and after 9 long years, Bartleby became over such a long time very skilled with using the crossbow and a skillful negotiator, and with these skills and a business partner none the wiser, along with bartleby's own kleptomaniac tendencies which grew over the course of his life of crime, in one single day, and with his adoptive fathers back turned, he killed him... If he was brave and cruel enough, no instead he simple snagged a key to the groups savings and bolted as fast as his legs out carry him with the mass of funds, however it didn't take long for the black market to catch onto his scheme, as he fled with thick bags of gold and hot stolen items all within a giant rucksack, he barely escaped with his life, used his skills to acquire himself with the gold he bought a new outfit, to mask his old appearance and get himself under a new name, or alias. His original name is unknown, and is known only as Bartleby Sterling, the original name given to him is not even known to himself, having never had a name giving to him by either his newer father of his adoptive parents back when he was a child. Hidden away within an abandoned basement at a corner street within Talbor, Bartleby investigated the contents of the stolen goods and money, enough money to keep him fed for years and within the stolen rucksack of valuables were gems, hot stolen gems fresh for selling and another items curiously popped itself out of the bag... a small, chubby looking Siamese kitten poked its little head out and stared cutely at Bartleby, the conman and merchant coward not knowing just how much agony the cat would bring to him, Bartleby decided to take the cat in, and raise it himself as the two quickly and using bartleby's talents, sold the hot merchandise for a thick profit before fleeing and escaping the criminal clutches of the underground, deciding to use his fine money to start a new life. Now at age 23, Bartleby has been able to quickly amass his wealth, shown through his very eccentric and interesting attire to look as flashy as possible along with his fat, round cat sucking up every gold piece he had at the same time, now he is starting to feel the pressure of his fortune draining no help to his cat, his conning, thievery and merchant skills having only gotten him so far, if he didn't try and get better merchandise, he was going to start losing money and eventually go poor. Bartleby decided. "The red legion... such powerful weapons... If perchance I was able to steal some of that technology and pretend I was on a major quest to save everyone... I could probably get my riches back again.!" And with this foolish plan, Bartleby would find himself going up against forces which were vastly superior in skill to him, in a mission he would refer to as his greatest and most biggest cock up. Family: N/A Relationships: No relationships yet. Weaponry: Two handed crossbow: Beatrix with 30 bolts in a boxed quiver just above his rear, hidden under his cloak. (more bombs but takes up an extra slot) two slots: Magical explosives: 20 in a bagged pouch at the side of his hip, hidden under his cloak. Medicine: Potions, healing ones, hidden under his cloak, it contains 3 healing potions and a poison cure. Abilities: Crossbow training: Despite being overly pathetic in almost all areas, Bartleby finds himself safest when he is as far away from his opponent as possible... Which is why as a child he got trained how to use a crossbow! And he loves his Big Beatrix! However this is probably one of his only known skills, his expert ability with crossbows gives him a great perceptive insight on how to fire upon an enemy with it, and with this skill he is able to execute his foes from a huge distance. Explosives: Make things explode and then RUN. How does Bartleby handle himself if he's out of crossbow bolts and an angry red legion man is coming at him with murder in his eyes... Aside from urinating himself, Bartleby has the ability to use elemental explosives, thanks to his connections and secret buyers, he has amassed and is skilled in using these bombs to his advantage. Running away: Ah yes, one of his many great and ferocious talents is that he can run away like a sissy girl at a speed of something pretty fast if it was getting chased by a lion. Using his ability to be unpredictable, one of his many fine traits is creating a distraction big enough to let himself escape the area in the hopes of being able to out maneuver and escape his foes so he may live to fight another day. Weaknesses: race: below-average agility, less harmony with nature, short lifespans Personal: Weak defense, no ability to use magic, cowardly nature makes him run away if he can, at every opportunity he can get. Companion: Oh Bartleby has a beast of burden... in the shape of a roly poly shaped obese Siamese cat called Shin... This beast of burden can be summerised as a food engulfing black hole, and it nags people just as much as Bartleby does, a major bothering bother which bothers our bothersome Bartleby until it can't be bothered to bother anymore! A cat who's main desire is eating, and sleeping, and meowing, and repeating... Though it does make for some good laughs when it annoys Bartleby to the point of frustration, it is his only true friend though, and he loves shin dearly, and hates the every lasting guts out of the monstrous fatass at the same time... But what can ya' do? Other: GET THE POLARIS OUT OF MY EYES...!

Name: Tári Númenessë Age: 70 Gender: Female Species: Elf - Volcanic Kingdom of Origin: Originally: The Wilderness, Phoenix mountains. Currently serving as Ambassador of Haderlock to the Glacial Knights of Glaces. Physical appearance: Weighing in at a grand total of 93 lbs and an impressive height of 4'9" it is small wonder that Tári often goes unnoticed, the fact that her ebony skin is in direct contrast with her naturally red hair keeping her from fading entirely into the background. Of course, her slender but shapely form also plays a large part in gaining attention, making up in other places what she lacks in height. Tári prefers to keep her hair off her back and shoulders, sweeping a portion of it over her the left side of her face in order to keep her scar and clouded eye hidden from immediate view. She has a button nose, largish eyes, a rosy complexion (difficult to notice with her skin tone) and the shape of her face could best be described as an inverted triangle. The edges of her mouth appear to have a natural upward curve as well as it seems there is always a smile of one kind or another on her face. Not entirely cut off from her culture, Tári maintains the ceremonial markings of her tribe, though they lack the reddish pigment commonly used by her people. (And because I'm a visual person here's the closest I could make of this 2lewd shorty x x x) Attire: Due to the extreme temperatures of Glaces and the Northlands in general, Tári is more often than not wearing several layers of woolen underclothes and a fur coat given to her on her initial arrival to Glaces that extends down to around her shins. A fur hat of some kind is not out of the question and gloves are a must in the frigid city as well, though due to her higher than normal body temperature she can often forgo a few layers on the warmer days. When not bundled up (generally when she is in her private quarters where there is actual heat) Tári tends towards rather revealing dresses or gowns of a reddish hue. Bangles, necklaces, earrings and other jewelry also makes an appearance during such times. Personality: Many in history have questioned what a cat would be like if it were turned into a human. Tári is likely the closest answer to that question. Possessed of a 'Do-As-I-Like' attitude and the self assurance that the world revolves around and will adapt to her, Tári has waltzed her way through life so far with hardly a care. Charming to the extreme and well aware of the effect she has on most men (and some women), she's never been afraid to use her 'talents' to further her own goals. Coming from a tribe of volcanic elves in a harsh, unforgiving terrain that takes more lives than it gives the nubile young elf has always viewed intimacy as a daily part of life that someone with the right attitude can use to their advantage. Notoriously lazy as well, it is often a wonder to her peers how she managed to become an ambassador at all. It is not uncommon to find her slumped into a chair in front of a warm fire, fast asleep after a meal or discussion with the Glacial Knight leadership. When not snoozing or floozing she can often be found enjoying the finer things in life. This normally includes copious amounts of fermented alcohol, decadent desserts and succulent meat. Tári is, as befits her job, a social butterfly who excels at conversation, bartering, and manipulating small numbers of individuals towards a certain subject or train of thought. This, her looks, and her ability to debate with the best of them made her an ideal candidate to act as ambassador from Haderlock to Glaces. Hobbies/interests: The fineries afforded to her by her position. Food, drink, soft fabrics, exotic creatures and extravagant clothing. Dancing, painting and digging up juicy gossip are also on that list. She also has an interest in jewelery crafting and body markings, both things her people are quite skilled at. Skills: Tári is a people person. She enjoys conversation, she enjoys debate, and she enjoys manipulating others into doing what she wants with as little effort as possible. Her years of fine living and time spent at a counsel table discussing trade agreements have left her with a better understanding of bartering and the cost of goods than most, making her a dangerous customer in any store. Furthermore, Tári has a knack for learning languages both written and spoken, shown by her unofficial tutoring of Sikarthis. She knows over a hundred and six words or slang terms for various genitalia. Backstory: Born into a small tribe of volcanic elves on one of the many slopes of the Phoenix mountains, surrounded by volcanic ash and dangerous magma flows, Tári Númenessë was born into the world ready to confuse and irritate quite a large number of people. Since the time she could walk the young elf was finding her way into places that she shouldn't be and hoarding sweets and other goodies that belonged to other children. Once she had learned to speak it was all any of the tribe's adults could do to keep her from arguing with them or tricking the other kids into relinquishing their treasures. Eventually Tári's own parents were forced to take action, secluding their troublesome child in their forge where they taught her the basics of their trade. It wasn't until the young girl had reached her tenth year of life that she was given permission to leave the forge every so often again. It was on one such occasion that Tári spotted something she had never seen before, a massive caravan line passing far below the village at the base of the mountain slope. Rather than sit around and tell an adult, Tári ran down to see what the long train of people was all about, slipping one of her parents jeweled daggers onto her person as she passed the forge just to be safe. When she reached the base of the mountain the caravan was still proceeding along with wagons, sleds and pack animals deepening the depressions in the newly stomped path left by those that came before them. Making little effort to hide herself at all Tári was surprised to find that nobody paid her much attention, exhaustion set in everyone's eyes as they trudged alongside the wagons holding their worldly belongings. For the young elf it was far too interesting to simply head back the way she had come and so she decided to tag along for a while and investigate further. Several hours (and many many miles) later she realized that she could no longer see the mountain her village was located on. As would end up being the norm for her in later years however she took it in stride, certain that she could find her way back eventually. Suffice to say she never did and it took several months, right up until the caravan reached it's destination at what would become Haderlock, for anyone to say "Wait who's kid is this?" By then however Tári had integrated herself into the daily life of the exiles, making herself useful in little ways while managing to avoid trouble (or at least managing to avoid getting caught). With nobody willing to make the journey to return the youth it was agreed that it would be best to wait until she was older and capable of undertaking such a trip by herself. As the years passed and Haderlock began to blossom it became readily apparent to many that the young elf had a knack for bartering and talking herself out of nasty situations and into sweeter ones. She found herself taken in by merchants and con-men alike, each hoping to monopolize on her promising skills only to be disappointment when she turned the tables on them, her purse heavy with coin and several new tricks up her sleeve at their expense. It wasn't long until she began to inject herself into the social lives of the upper class where she worked tirelessly to expand her list of contacts and 'friends' using whatever means were available to her. From there it was a one way track towards diplomatic work, her 'friends' pulling strings to land her a comfortable and safe job working for the kingdom by handling trade agreements. When the alliance was signed months ago with the Glacial Knights, Tári was chosen to act as acting Ambassador, a position she accepted with relish for both the increase in salary as well as the chance to expand her influence outside of Juvegol. Currently she resides in the newly constructed Haderlock embassy located in Glaces where she spends much of her time in her tightly sealed chambers in front of quite possibly the only fireplace within a hundred mild radius. Family: Tári's father and mother are likely both back at the Phoenix Mountains, extracting rare gems from the lava flows and crafting items from them as was their trade. Relationships: Sikarthis|Questionable|Useful|Tall, cold, kind of a dick. Honestly, you'd think with the way I've been handling him he'd be a bit more warm. Guess it'll take a bit more to melt that ice. Hrmmm... Weaponry: Small: A stiletto dagger forged of blackened steel and jeweled with rubies. A "gift" from her parents according to her. Abilities: Due to the treacherous nature of the Phoenix mountains Tári's people have long been sure of foot and naturally adept at moving unseen when they need to. The shadows are her friends when she has need of them, blending into the darkest corners with hardly a sound before resurfacing inside of what should have been a locked room or holding documents that were in a lockbox moments before. While she is far from combat effective she is quite skilled with holding peoples attention and interest once she has it making her fairly useful in situations that call for going mostly unnoticed. In her free time she has also continued to learn the trade of jewelry crafting, fetching a modest second income off her creations and ensuring that she'll never be short of coin should the demand remain. Weaknesses: Tári has a tendency to prefer lazing about to doing actual work and she can be difficult to motivate into doing anything for others that won't directly benefit her in some way or another. Along with that she holds grudges easily and often attempts to return any slights against her person twice over. Companion: None Other: (anything I didn’t cover in this sheet.)

Name: Kuruk (son of Beodrum) Age: 61 Gender: Male Species: Centaur Kingdom of Origin: Nomadic Physical appearance: Kuruk stands at an impressive 7ft tall and weighs around two thousand pounds, making him a giant even amongst his kin. He is very strong and heavy set, with large defined muscles that seem ridiculously big when compared to a human or elf. His skin is very dark and is almost as dark as the jet black hair that covers most of his body. He has a strong square face with clearly chiseled features, although it’s fair to say that in this case it makes him look more brutish than handsome. He has a messy set of hair that he never allows to stretch further down than his shoulders, and which extends into an equally messy beard. His entire body is covered in scars, with many being superficial. His most prominent scars include one that stretches from his left shoulder down to his right nipple, a long bald scar on his hide that stretches down his back left outer thigh, and a scar that runs from his hairline to his eyebrow. His voice is low, loud, and coarse and has a sinister ring to it. Due to his nomadic lifestyle and his estrangement from his clan, Kuruk has no easily identifiable accent. Attire: He wears a gladiatorial style helmet made of steel, which he adorns with streaks of blood for no apparent reason. He wears chain-mail armour that drapes back to cover a fair section of his lower half, and which is supplemented by leather shoulders and arms. He would like to buy better armour, but his current armour alone cost him a bomb because it had to be specially made and tailored. He has recently had his horse shoes replaced, an event neither he nor the fitter enjoyed. He wears a large leather belt over his mail which has various sized pouches. He only carries what he needs. His helmet is based off this. And his armour of a mixture of this and this. Personality: Kuruk is a combination of some of the worst traits a person can have; he’s short tempered, arrogant, stubborn, vicious and pretty stupid for the most part. He has a raging blood-lust that might be considered psychopathic were it not for the odd bout of sympathy or lust. He has little time for loyalty, though he has the audacity to expect it from others. He has never lost his sense of entitlement and will take whatever he thinks he deserves. Overall, he’s just a nasty p**** that most should stay clear of. Two of his few redeeming features include the fact that not only does he not discriminate against any race, but he is also angered by slavery and has often worked to free slaves for cheap pay. Hobbies/interests: He lives for three things: Fighting, drinking, and having sex. The last of which is a rather nightmarish sight to behold. He has little time for anything else unless it can help him achieve the first three things. Skills: Besides being a fighter, Kuruk is a very good drinker. He is good at manual labour, but anything that requires him to rub a few brain cells together is probably going to leave him stumped. Backstory: Kuruk was the first born son of Beodrum the Brave, Alpha of the Numidian Herd. The herd was, and still is, one of the largest and most powerful centaur herds in the known lands. His father was also gifted with a titanic body but had a sharp mind to accompany it, making him a powerful entity. Kuruk was therefore brought up in his father’s shadow and was made to believe that one day he would rise to become the herd’s alpha. As a result he spent the first 25 years of his life growing into a fine warrior, though that’s about all. Even from a young age it was clear that he lacked his father’s mind and in fact was rather dim and odd. However his younger brother, Yao Guai, actually seemed to surpass their father’s intellect if anything. When Beodrum eventually passed away the herd followed Centaur custom and held a series of duals to determine who would be the next Alpha. Kuruk cleaved through the competition until he came across his final opponent. Much to his shock, his younger brother had also decided to fight for the title and clearly seemed to have the crowds favour. Kuruk thought the fight would be a breeze, but he was terribly mistaken. Not only did Yao Guai best him in speed and agility, but he had also spent years studying Kuruk and his fighting style. Kuruk wasn’t just beaten, he was humiliated. Yao Guai did not rush to beat his brother and spent time showboating to the crowd, who clearly had expected the spectacle (much to Kuruk’s confusion). When the fight eventually drew to a close Kuruk was forced to the floor and was told to grovel at the new Alpha’s feet. Yao Guai did not want to kill his brother, but he did want to make it abundantly clear who was in charge. Kuruk was too full or pride and anger though, and he would not submit. Instead he took out his brother’s legs and fled, incurring the herd’s anger. A few chased after him and one Centaur even managed to hit Kuruk with a spear, but fortunately they quickly gave up the chase having thought he would be too stupid to survive on his own. For a few years he wandered aimlessly about and only survived by robbing the odd unfortunate traveler, until he had a rather juicy bounty on his head that is. As it would turn out, one of the many people he had robbed was actually a rather wealthy nobleman and slaver, a man by the name of Vasilly. This resulted in Kuruk being captured and made a slave himself. He was taken to a mining town and was forced to do various tasks, from dragging around ores to working a horse mill. He spent nine years a slave in Shimmerock at the mercy of Vasilly and his friends. In that time he befriended both Icemen and Minotaurs, realising that at their cores these strangers were not so different. He even had his way with some of the female Minotaurs when the guards were not around. It was not long after his 38th birthday that he was pulled from his normal duties to undertake a rather unusual task. Due to an attempted escape attempt by a few icemen the previous night, Vasilly found himself with a bunch of dead horses and a wagon that was unable to pull itself. Vasilly therefore given the option of going to trade with one less wagon full of ore, or to have Kuruk pull a wagon beside his own steed. His greed quickly made up his mind for him. That said, Vasilly was not foolish and so sacrificed some of his load in order to accommodate a few extra guards. The expedition was agonisingly long and took the convoy all the way south to Olenport, the blackmarket port city of Talbor. Unfortunately for Vasilly however, he did live long enough to set his eyes upon the rich assortment of market stools or the deep blue sea. It was as they approached the city that Kuruk finally found his chance at freedom, for the convoy was forced along a rocky bank. Unwilling to live another day as a slave, Kuruk charged down the slope with Vasilly’s wagon right behind him. In a feat of utter insanity Kuruk managed to break free of the carriage by jumping over a pile of rocks which the carriage then buckled against and shattered with the speed. He was not completely uninjured, but was still together enough to recover his master and drag him into the nearby forest. A small manhunt did eventually pursue him but all they ever found were Vasilly’s various limbs scattered around. After this Kuruk fled into the south and spent the next few decades working as a mercenary, having learned from other slaves that such a business promised both blood and gold. He worked with various groups and individuals, and at one point even led his own ragtag company of Orcs, Saurians and Doraks. He eventually began to specialise in slave rescues and other messy operations. Over the last few years he has begun to venture North again, but really he just goes where the work takes him. Family: Both his parents have been dead for decades. His only other family is Yao Guai, the Alpha of the Numidian Herd, whom he hates and has not seen in more than thirty years. Relationships: WIP Weaponry: Large Weapons: Warhammer | Medium Weapon: Whip | Small Weapon: Medicine Abilities: Kuruk relies purely on sheer strength and power, and to be fair, it has served him fairly well the majority of the time. Whilst he might not be as fast or agile as other centaurs due to his bulkiness, he makes up for it in endurance. He is good at leading a charge due to his confidence and presence, but to call him a good leader in general would mean that you have failed to see his stupidity and rashness. Weaknesses: Like all centaurs, Kuruk is weak to cold iron and his legs provide four easy weak points. Due to his bulkiness he finds it particularly hard to protect his back end, and so you are likely to see him spinning about wildly during battle in a dizzy attempt to combat this. He is easily outsmarted, but one should be cautious when trying to take advantage of him. He really is the perfect archetype of a dim-witted brute. Companion: Though not really a companion per se, there is currently a chocolate flavoured coloured wing lemur stalking him. It is a small thing that looks like an earth lemur but with larger ears, larger eyes and has furry parachute like wings beneath its arms. It has a habit of randomly appearing to steal Kuruks food just as he’s about to eat it. It also appears to be relatively clever, having learned to sit on a particular spot on Kuruks hide which he can never reach (with angers him to no end). Kuruk has not named the fiend and will often go berserk in an attempt to catch and crush it. Other: P-P-P-Polaris! Don’t you dare go changin’! I know you want me! Ooooohhhh ohhh oh oh ooooo!

Name: Rûyk Age: 201 Gender: Male Species: Orc Kingdom of Origin: Haderlock Physical appearance: Rûyk stands 6'3'', just below average height for an orc, but weights a lean 237lbs - still possessing remarkable fitness and physique for his years. His hair runs straight, long and black, although flecks of grey have started to creep in. His skin is light grey, lined faintly with both the work of years and battle. His face is smooth, kept closely shaven - the only outstanding feature a scar which runs from his right cheekbone to his ear, part of which is missing. His smile is... "toothy", to say the least, but most striking are his eyes: deep set and almost unnaturally black - a quaint, unusual feature - but captivating to all who meet his stare. Lastly, his right arm is covered in a complete sleeve tattoo: a complex set of images depicting the major battles and conflicts in Rûyk's life; scarlet and black dominate, making for a striking conversation starter. Attire: Rûyk was a former sergeant in the Nordavind, and due to his distinguished service - got to keep his ceremonial light plate armour. It has dulled somewhat, but in such times of need Rûyk has once again taken to proudly wearing his breastplate and helm, although he no longer sports chainmail beneath. To aid mobility, Rûyk wears a mixture of toughened leather and hide armour splinted with steel over key regions. His armour is light but effective - and importantly, still displays his old Nordavind sergeant stripes on the breastplate. If he would fight in anything, it would be this. Personality: Rûyk can often come across as detached, stoic and dispassionate. This is often true, although passion and anger can be quick to stir in him when summoned, like an long silent mountain suddenly letting the world know it was a volcano all along... In his own way he is quite a caring man - he is certainly thoughtful, with a hardened sense of honour that intersects his decision making. Whilst a 'good' person, Rûyk is quite hard and calculating. He isn't dark or cruel as such, but if cruelty is a means to a greater good, then so be it. There was once upon a time when he enjoyed the bloodlust that came with battle, and while successes can raise a wry smile from that deeply preserved sense of humour, duty calls upon him far more than pleasure as he enters his twilight years. Rûyk's passion is in his family, his nation, his people and the service he has done for them - all other actions are a step in securing the wellbeing and prestige of these important parts of his life. Hobbies/interests: Rûyk has lived a soldier's life for a long time, and enthuses not only about military strategy, but its history. This is not to say Rûyk is an academic by any stretch, but he has an enthusiasm for understanding the great battles and conflicts of the past which resounds in his voice whenever the topic is brought up. Additionally, Rûyk has become fairly accomplished at the mandolin - quite an atypical feature when examined next to his battle-scarred appearance. He has turned his hand at an original lyric or two, but he predominantly plays simple folk music as a unpretentious means of entertainment. Backstory: Rûyk was born in the mountains of Talbour, in a settlement dominated by the iron mines. His father was a labourer in one of the great pits that ran deep into the belly of the land; his mother sended to the great shire-horses which pulled the heavy iron carts down into Maceron, to be processed by the steel works. As Orcs in a land dominated by humans, and working class Orcs in a feudal system at that, his early life was challenging - and it was only to get harder. His father died of Nocardiosis when he was only six, so spent the majority of his early childhood raised only by his mother. To better their chances in life, Rûyk's mother took a gamble: moving to Maceron - the capital of Talbour. She had worked with horses her whole life, and as Orcs live considerably longer than humans, had accumulated greater experience with them than most expert breeders and trainers. There was an arrogance, of course, within the system that procluded much in the way of career progression, but she managed to convince a horse trader to take her on as an aide. That trader just so happened to also sell horses to the great knights that were held up as heroic, mortal gods manifest as men, via the propoganda the kingdom propogated. In truth, Rûyk's life wasn't much better. They had a hovel in the slums and education stemed largely from his mother, but given that her own was limited, he was slow to pick up even basic reading and writing skills. Still, Rûyk grew to be strong, tough and street-wise in his own way. He joined his mother in working with the horses - seeming to possess an intrinsic affinity with them, on account of being brought up around them. He was 19 when an incident happened that would change his life quite profoundly: A deal had been struck to provide two young geldings to the Knights of the Ram - the country's greatest warriors. Naturually, these two horses were of exceptional stock and breed - two rare diamonds amongst many thousands of lesser gems. The King's elite knights only took the best, so Rûyk was quite shocked when he was asked to accompany his mother's master to deliver them; the only issue was, they were not to deliver them to the castle barracks, but to the mountains where many of the knights were training potential recruits. The journey was long, but in riding the two geldings it was made much easier - each was a joy to ride. As they neared their destination Rûyk heard a distinct shout in the woodline: it interwove anger and fear - it was unique but strangely beckoning. Rûyk turned his horse into the woods, much against the advice of the horse trader: what he found was a scene unlike any other... A human knight, unmistakably a young Knight of the Ram judging by his armour, stood wth two dead men at his feet, bastard sword held in a defensive but poised position. Against and around him stood five more men; the knight's horse was dead, shot with several bolts that stuck out from its hide. The men that stood against him held out swords and axes of their own, inching closer but clearly cautious against the knight's skill. As Rûyk arrived he quickly understood and assessed the scene, but confirmed it when he saw the tribal tattoos which adorned the face of the agressors. They were noted and infamous bandits: the obsidian dawn. Family: Rûyk is widowed. He had a wife, Brenna, who was 14 years his junior. They met when Rûyk was 42, still relatively young: he was a castle guard and she a member of the kitchen staff. Their first affair was electrifying, and from there their relationship grew closer until the two intertwined their lives so much, only death would part them. Unfortunately, many, many years later - it did. They had lived their whole lives together - she was his greatest support in their upheaval from Talbor, throughout his military campaigns and through a myriad of lesser plights. She died at 178, when Rûyk was 192; it was a cancer which claimed her - one so strong it took her quickly, which was itself a blessing. The effect is that Rûyk carries a shadow within him, hidden deep. He gets on - such is his way and that of his people, but life is a little colder now - all joys more faint and fleeting. In their marriage Rûyk and Brenna had two children: M'algluk - his eldest son, now aged 117; and Frella - his daughter, now aged 38. Both are independent in their own way: M'algluk, being far older, chose to carve his path in one of the most prestigious careers open to an Orc - the route of a master smith. His son works in Juvegol, in the royal armouries making weapons and armour for the castle guards and the elite of the Nordavind. To say that Rûyk is proud of his son would be an understatement. His daughter was brought into the world much later, when the two were settled in Haderlock. Rûyk was still in the Nordavind and had just completed a ranging assignment, leading the 'iron wolves' scout regiment against a band of minotaurs which were encroaching too far in the forestland that lined the great Frost River. Rûyk blames the excess of minotaur blood which stirred his loins when he arrived home the night his mission was finished - they certainly hadn't planned another child, but fate conspired to produce one. Frella was a delightful child, and is the happiest part of Rûyk's life in many ways. Frella has her own fisheries business, catching and selling the unique and highly prized Frost River Cod - arguably the finest fish to taste in Tithe - or so she says. Relationships: N/A. Rûyk has not moved on, truly, from the death of Brenna - his soul mate. This is not to say it will never happen, but there is no one special in his life at present. Weaponry: Rûyk has a fine array of weapons, collected over his time as a soldier and warrior. His large weapon is spear, which doubles up as a lance. The weapon is approximately 3 metres in length, made of fire hardened ash and galvanised with dragonbone, which also forms the exceptionally sharp tip. Secondly, Rûyk carries a one handed battle axe, made of hardened steel. Finely crafted by Orc smiths, it has a sharp bladed side and a deadly spike on the other, similar to most warhammers - and designed to puncture plate armour. Finally, Rûyk carries a small 6'' dirk blade for last resort and a collection of 10 throwing knives, kept in a leather satchel on his waist. His aim is... pretty good, for an old Orc! Abilities: Rûyk is a veteran soldier, having experienced more campaigns, battles and skirmishes than anyone else he knows, with a few notable exceptions. He is a tactician and strategist of note, bringing his experience to bear on situations on a macro and micro-level. He can read an unfurling battle like a book, just as he can read the body language of a foe before he strikes, anticipating blocks and counters instinctively. His skill with the blade as a heavy infantry line troop is equal to his strength in the saddle as a light dragoon; Rûyk is a very well rounded combatant. He has also retained his impressive strength, being far stronger than most men (although nothing quite like a Minotaur, or other such massive beings). Finally, Rûyk is a very capable smith, making many weapons, pieces of armour and shields himself. Weaknesses: Rûyk used to be pretty quick, but age has slowed him some. While he gets by on anticipating moves, he has found himself half a second behind the pace of a strike once or twice recently, and whilst nothing fatal has happened, it concerns him. Also, as an Orc he isn't always nuanced with the finer elements of diplomatic speech: a sword is a sword, a spade a spade - rhetorical weaving isn't his thing. Companion: 'Cressida' is a 9 year old black gelding; Rûyk purchased her as a foal and trained her himself, and as such, they have a superb relationship. She is 15.3 hands tall and weighs 1200 lbs; lithe, strong, responsive and courageous - she is an excellent mount for a former member of the Nordavind. Other: