Name: Jinx
Appearance: 6’ 2”, has a medium build and rough, tanned skin, tawny eyes, longish reddish brown hair with a streak of silver, hooded cloak, light leather armour, boots, rucksack
Age: 30 (Has the appearance and physique of 23)
Gender: Male
Race: Half Angel Half Human
Side: Sort of Light
Weapons: Hand and a half sword, long bow
Abilities/Powers: Enhanced speed, strength (Can move faster than the average runner, if the average militiaman could lift one log at best, Jinx could lift one and a half at best), reflexes (can keep up with most if not all trained warriors in terms of tracking, not skill), toughness (In a fair fist fight, I’ll take you down first even if just because I can stay up long sort of toughness), healing capabilities (can heal faster than normal people), slowed aging after 16 (half as slow), can summon grey feathered wings (Takes a lot of energy, has to sleep for quite a while afterwards.)
Talents: Good shot with bow, trained with sword, has various survival skills, has been trained in his mind (doesn’t always work)
Personality: Calm, bit of a jokester, normally friendly, rarely forgiving of things such as banditry or worse, extremely rarely angry
Biography: Jinx’s mother died when he was 6. After that, he was taken ‘care’ of by another family of farmers. As in, he tended their fields most of the day, and he got three meals a day and a bale of hay to sleep on. That went on for 8 years, after which he ran away, tired of being overworked, and given only the scraps. Taking a weeks worth of food, a cloak and a bow, he ran, straight to the second closest village, so as they didn’t find him, at least not immediately. He never saw them again. He found shelter with a paladin, Sir Jamie Drayle, too old to fight, too tired to do much service. The old paladin saw this as his final service to the divine. Training Jinx, he soon found out that he couldn’t train him like pure goodness, but tried his best to make Jinx more aligned to that side. Eventually leaving what he had come to think of as his home, he came back as soon as he could when he heard that Jamie was dying. He was there when the closest thing he had to a father died. Leaving Jinx everything he had, including the house, Jinx prayed for his first, and only, time.
Extras: He keeps the paladin’s house as a hideout in case something bad happens, and hasn’t sold any of his old armour, even if Jinx never uses it. Due to the angelic blood in his veins, he is easily recognisable by any of the more divine or arcane, and even people who don’t know what to look for can sense something different about him (This can, to some extent, be muffled through staying around many ordinary people, or a small amount a lot).

Name: Akrelmar, the Red Eyed Terror of the Geshmere Downs.

Appearance: Akrelmar is a hulking giant of a man, nearly as wide as he is tall. Yellowed teeth sparsely litter his crooked smile, and thinning black hair rests upon a scarred scalp. His left eye is iron-grey, owing to an injury sustained long ago; his right eye is the shade of scarlet. Thick dark stubble adds a masculine edge to his flabby chin.

He is powerfully built, with muscle and fat clinging to his bones in equal measure. He wears little armour, preferring loose fur around his lower quarters, and a simple harness to contain the bulge of his chest and stomach.

Age: 35

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Side: Dark, the Red Eyed Terror of the Geshmere Downs. A bandit king, of sorts.

Weapons(s): Soul Breaker, a simple brass maul once used in the hammering of wagon wheels. Akrelmar is able to wield this massive weapon with ease.

Abilities/Powers: Unnatural strength: This man is blessed with a strength that defies his stature, and is the result of "unholy intervention" through his swearing of allegiance to Nyarlathotep.

Talent(s): Heartless and Fearless: This man fears no pain, and fears no death. His body is a weapon of lust and power, and he will ply it relentlessly to anyone that gets in his way, be it children, women, the infirm or otherwise. This makes him a cancer upon the land, and there is only one remedy for such a sickness.

Personality: Akrelmar is ruthless and possesses a sporadic temperment. He might laugh his guts out, only to strike down his most trusted associate; he might cry himself into snot and dribble, yet spare a defeated opponent. His inconsistency makes his leadership of any band of roughians a toxic one, and usually ends with him killing them all in an orgy of violence.

Biography: Akrelmar is the lowliest of the low, and always has been. Born a bastard to a mother who gave no affection to his care, he grew up as a cold and twisted individual. From schoolyard bully to corrupt soldier in the Crown's army, Akrelmar always favored dominance over those around him. Naturally, this philosophy led to his dismissal from the Kingdom's service, where he fell onto hard times. After working the odd job here and there, making a meager living for some years, he eventually snapped and turned against the law in earnest.

Raising one group of bandits after another, Akrelmar quickly gained notoriety as a ruthless murderer. Hundreds curse his name from shallow graves, and though he has caused much tragedy, he is not well known outside his haunts in the Geshmere Downs.

It is from there, his power base, that he raids caravans, terrorizes villages and murders anyone who gets in his way. Efforts on behalf of the Crown and the Rangers of Galuntrung Keep have so far failed to find and kill him, and he remains at large.

In recent times, he has become "intimately" connected with the cultists of Nyarlathotep, who have accepted him into their cause in exchange for an unholy boost to his strength. He has now become a feral beast, who is steadily cutting a bloody swarth through the Geshmere Downs. With this boldness, comes the certainty of a showdown between he and the rule of law.

But who will win?

Extras: Leads a group of bandits, roughly 50 strong. These men are as ruthless as he, though their fighting potential is questionable.