Name: Alexander Devereux (Cal-Vail-E-Us Dev-Er-Oh)

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 24

Personality: Alexander is a very confident young man. He's humble as well, never bragging like most warriors. He doesn't speak to many people about his battles, never really being asked in the first place. Alexander can seem like he's too good for people when really he tends to keep to himself. He's not a fan of social gatherings or royal banquets.

Bio: Alexander was born into a small, wealthy family in Escudo. His father was a knight and he later would be killed in combat when Alexander was a young 12 year old boy. Heartbroken, Alexander vowed to follow in his father's footsteps and be just as great as he was. This idea fell short when he was 16 as he realized he would rather be a warrior. This was because of the death he'd heard about. Alexander began training under his mentor, his uncle, when he was 18. He was far more advanced than he thought, easily performing attacks that would take weeks of training. After he was about 20 years old, he was done with training. He set out to be in Escudo's military. Alexander served 2 years in Escudo's military as a high-class warrior. He got tired of doing the boring tasks of rescuing people, taking out bandit camps, and guarding buildings. Alexander would leave and become a mercenary for hire when possible and an adventurer when he's not a mercenary.

Weapons:

Custom made two-handed long sword.

Equipment:




Plated, steel armor. Chest plate, thigh plates, gauntlets, and boots. No helmet.

Special Skills:
-Alexander is an amazing swordsman. He is not the best, however.
-Alexander knows very simple magic attacks
-Alexander knows his way around bows
-Alexander is really intelligent. He's an excellent mathematician.

Other: --

Name: Meldarion Dragonsbane

Race: 3/4ths human, 1/4 Elf

Gender: M

Age: 32

Personality: Introverted and introspective, Meldarion doesn't shy from conversation, but by no means enjoys it. Silence is his friend, and he prefers peaceful days on the open road than parties in a tavern. He loses mental energy in most social situations. He has a poetic mind at times, sometimes getting inspiration to paint or write, but most attempts end with him deciding to finish it later.
He tries to be conservative for more than just his benefit. He enjoys blades. The ring of steel and movements that kill. He quite enjoys the twang of the bow as well. Horse back riding is a hobby of his, but most of the time he hasn't the coin for a horse so he walks, which he is fine with. Even if he is generally slow to anger, if you do something he deems beyond his ability to cope with, you're as good as dead. He can lose himself in a calm rage, becoming a a human weapon that is terrifying to behold. His eyes can freeze someone in their tracks, the intent to kill is so powerful. He realizes the potential for harm in this and only increases his preference for solitude.
Meldarion doesn't look for friends, but despite himself he finds people who enjoy his company and he reciprocates at times. He has had no romantic relationships, nor does he ever plan to. Due to his memory loss, he does breathing exercises to keep his stress levels down, doing his best to find peace in a world where his identity must be constructed by he himself. He's gotten a very unamused and colorless view on life most of the time, though a pretty sunset and a swift kill can make him happier. Deep down passed his stoic and severe aura, he has a gentle heart, and tries his best not to kill or hurt unless absolutely necessary. Even if it's what he thinks he's good for, it doesn't always make it right.

Bio: Born the bastard son of a Lord through a mixing with a half elf maid, he grew up among his father's hold with his half brothers, ear the city of Meche. His father treated him with a distant love and his father's wife tried her best to hide her disdain for him. His half brothers however treated him as one of their own. His mother was only allowed to see him seldomly, before she was forced to move away on his 8th year of life. He grew up thrust into Knighthood, starting as a page and working his way up to Squire with a natural ability for combat. He was under the tutelage of Sir Bryan at first, before Calador the Elf, a long time friend of his father's, was offered to train him. His father and two of his four brothers were killed in a border dispute, and Meldarion was taken hostage. To his horror, he was sold off to fight for the amusement of others in an Arena. Unfortunately for the hosts, he not only won his freedom, but made a fair reputation for his blade to boot. He was sought out by various Lords and Ladies, and word has it he even slew a small drake, though that was years ago and some rumors have a tendency to...exaggerate. Though Meldarion was never the boastful type and he would not confirm nor deny. Another rumor persisted that, because of his heroics, he was given a beautiful woman's hand in marriage, only for he himself to flee before the ceremony.

Weapons:


Equipment:
Scale Mail (supposedly dragon scale. Includes hauberk, guantlets, vambrace, pauldrons, etc.)
Haggard cloak and tabard, with the insignia long since faded.
Leather breeches.
Sturdy traveling boots.
Special Skills:
Swordsmanship
Horseback riding
Archery
Poetry and Song writing (though he never voices any aloud)
Saddle making
Hunting

Other:

Name: Kormac Anderson

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 26

Personality: Kormac is reserved, sparing with his words but not afraid to use them. He doesn't care about appearances and knows they can be deceptive from experience. He respects weapons, he knows that a stroke they make cannot be taken back. He doesn't sleep well at night, haunted by nightmares of a violent past. He has a soft spot for children and will protect them at almost any given opportunity.

Bio: Kormac was born in Escudo. His father a proud member of the military force he was raised to follow in his foot steps. At the age of 16 Kormac joined up officially and started training with the military proper. He was clearly more proficient than his fellow recruits due to his upbringing and with a little help from his father he was placed as sergeant of his squad fresh out of the academy.

In his first campaign he was taking his squad of fellow fresh fighters on a long distance scout mission when he was ordered to raze a village to take out an enemy courier bringing back information to the foes of Escudo. His orders were to burn it to the ground. To make a statement. He refused. Instead he warned the people of the village off the approaching army and lead them away deeper into the country of Meche where they were safely re-homed. He is a folk hero among the people of Meche, with the occasional rural settlement recognizing him due to one the refugee families being fleeing there.

Now he lives life on the run, with Escudo agents hunting him. Weather they are from the military or his father he does not know. He just knows not to get caught. He disguises himself as a travelling merchant who enjoys exchanging fine ales from different obscure rural settlements.

Weapons: Nothing he cannot explain away as a merchant. He has a small club he carries most of the time at the hip and a light crossbow carried by many merchants. Hidden away on his cart beneath his clothes is his Escudo officers saber, it will be an ill day when he must wield it again.

Equipment: Strong rope, casks of ale and a couple of donkeys called Jervis. Both of them, it gets confusing. He has a small chest where he keeps his saber and gold. He also has sturdy travelling gear and fold out tables to create a roadside tavern when the opportunity calls for it.

Special Skills: Dueling with a one handed sword. Decent shot with a crossbow. Able to tell you a surprising amount about local craft beers. Trained at identifying Escudo military units by their heraldry. Wagon driving.

Other: Hello world, first post! Nice to meet you all!

Name: Xavier Aretino

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 21

Personality: Xavier is very childlike personality making other think that he dim and make no mind to him. He has a strong sense of justice and will defend people that he thinks need help, With this he will not mind killing criminal that break or try to hurt innocent people.
With his child like mind he is very gentle and kind to women, children and mostly innocent people who ae not causing trouble. Xavier likes to keep away form others and usually likes to work alone when needed. He is a mute since birth so he speaks with babbles and in sign language.

Bio: Xavier was born in the battlefield while his mother was fighting during a battle with Bravado with his mother fighting with the Meche. His mother was killed a few hours form giving birth to him leaving him a orphan. When he was one years old he was adopted by Bravado nobles who raised Xavier and train him to be a knight for the king of Bravado.

From ten to seventeen old he was trained to be a knight and quickly became known as one of the best swordman in the land. When he was seventeen he is made the second highest rank for a knight getting his own band of lower rank knights. A few days of gaining his own band of knights during a bloody battle with Meche and Silenzioso resulting in the whole group was killed. After this suffering form PTSD and nightmares of the battle.

Weapons: Wields a long two handed sword,He has a short dagger for close corner combat.

Equipment: Gold pouch, Rope.

Special Skills: Skilled with a two handed weapons, Skilled in tactics and the battlefield.

Other: None

Name: Velethuil Elro

Race: Unseelie Fae

Gender: Male

Age: ???

Personality: Like all Fae, Velethuil is a deal-maker. Bargain with him at your peril, as any debt will be collected on whether you want it to be or not. Worded bonds create power, which he capitalises on to great effect. Each interaction is carefully chosen to never allow for an advantage to be gained over him. He isn’t sadistic, despite this, it is merely in his nature. A gleefulness accompanies a job well done. Coldly intellectual, Velethuil doesn’t view things through rose-tinted glasses, but rather seeing things exactly as they are. Caring not about emotions or morals, he will do whatever helps him the most in any given situation. Serving only his own interest, he plays politics like a great game sweeping through the Bravado upper echelon like a ghost, meeting those players with the most power and seeing how they can be of use. Velethuil is characterised by a razor-sharp wit and silver tongue.

Bio: In their defense, it’s hard to tell and Elf and a Fae apart.

Both hair pointy ears, both have too-perfect features. Only one is dangerous in a conversation. It hadn’t even been difficult. Challenging the drunken noble to a game of cards, then throwing harder than a dwarf does his fists. Offering a small gift to the far superior player, she greedily accepted the token. Trap set.

Naturally, offering another game with higher stakes met the anticipated response. She was more than happy to oblige him, seeing the chance for more riches. The hand dealt to him was nothing short of rotten, but that didn’t matter. As the last play approached, he asked her to come good on their debt. Obviously, that was met with a quizzical look. The gift had locked them into a contract, one which she now had to pay, in the form of conceding the match. A favour for a favour. Velethuil smiled. Trap sprung.

Hurling all the insults under the sun, she was utterly powerless to stop the unfolding events. Despite the game being poker, he held all the cards. The choice was simple, give up and lose her title, estate and riches. Or don’t, and leave a Fae with all the power he wanted over you until the debt was satisfied.

Reminiscing old events was fantastic, especially when accompanied by a soft velvet chair and glass of fine wine in an opulent mansion. That definitely helped things. Things had taken a rather nasty turn when she produced an iron dagger and swung with it, but the guards quickly subdued her. What he had done wasn’t illegal, it was common knowledge to never deal with a Fae. Thankfully, the nobles of Bravado fancied themselves more intelligent than the rest of the world, which made them easy pickings. Still, he was thankful for not having to deal with that again. A steel bolt had once found it’s merry way into his side, and the scar was still there. Had it been pure iron, he wouldn’t be sitting here now.

Regardless, it was time to stop mulling over old memories. He had too many to count as it was, and there was a dinner waiting for him at a Lord’s estate, just up the roar. More drunken nobles, ripe for the taking.

Weapons: Snark.

Equipment: Fine, dark-blue and black regalia. A heavy black cloak with white fur lining.

Special Skills: Faerie magic, including glamour to change appearance if need be.
Ability to leverage outstanding deals to influence and bind people.
Expert of ice magic.

Name: Astador Carter

Race: Elf

Gender: M

Age: 28

Personality: Astador is closed person. He loves to be alone but when it's Come to talk, you can See that he is very helpfull and kind. He not mind helping people for nothing. In battle he is brave but he will not charge right into the enemies. He respect friendship and women. His dream is to became one of the guards of any wealthy noble Family and to met his father he missing.

Bio: Born in the slums of Meche, he doesn't have easy life. His mother was making clothes for the army, and his father was a Worker. After being abandoned at the Age of 6 by his dad, he always wanted to meet him again. At The Age of 12 mother let him embrace the dream, he became one of the recruits in Town Guard. At Age of 17 he officially became one of the Town guards, After a year he discovers a Giant Band of robbers who were terrorising the Town for a long time. At Age of 21 he became Captain of the Guard as he is today.
Weapons:



Equipment:
Helmet


Leather Armor

Leather Pants
Normal Travelling boots
Gloves

Special Skills:
-Good Halberd Fighter
-Fast Runner because of light Armor and good condition
-"Eagle eye" - Very good vision
Other: Hello :D

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Name: Madawc Trellnik

Race: Human (demonically infested)

Age: 32

Bio: Madawc was once a normal man who served in the army of Meche. As the world is prone to descend into carnage, it didn't take that long for him to be involved in battle. A field covered with death sometimes does attract more than hungry scavengers. Having taken an arrow's hit thought to be lethal, some strange, incorporeal entity intruded him. It was not the way it is commonly told in horror stories: There was no hidden, epic and possibly eternal struggle between Madawc's mind and the demon's will, but they embraced each other as the demon had planned: You just have to offer the straw in the right moment. Not too soon, not too late. The demon did his best to temporarily seal his wounds so he could get away. After his recovery, Madawc soon found out how cunningly his new 'partner' had waited for the right moment, but it was too late for feeling angry. He was alive thanks to it, and as the demon didn't make the mistake of being too fast too intrusive when it came to Madawc's thinking, they were able to live on together and merge slowly into one new entity, sharing the same, transformed body and both having their share out of the deal they made over time.
There are quite a few organizations that would appreciate him getting caught: High commanders in the military of Escudo know about his existence and are eager to study him - perhaps there's something their magicians could learn from. The Red Dove would like to decapitate him outright for being what he is.

Personality: To call him evil would be evil, to call him harmless would be foolish. He's an introvert who doesn't like to tell much about himself, especially not the truth, as this could easily attract those who want to harm him. However he knows that he's strong in his own way and can make his stand against lone scouts and attackers. It would not be for the first time for him to crush someone. There's no reason to hide in the wilderness all the time - one can make preparations, disguise oneself and have a watchful eye for one's environment.

Appearance: Madawc is of average height, but he has very broad shoulders, a prominent breast and thick arms and legs, indicating a lot of muscle. Who looks more closely when he's sitting will notice that he has some belly fat, too, but that doesn't seem to bother him. If he's not wearing a helmet, he covers the visible parts of his skin with white and gray warpaint, as this hides his true complexion that is a mixture of dark red and blurred violet stains. His fingernails are strikingly pointed, reminiscent of very small claws, but he tends to cover that as well. His hair is thick, black and of a medium length. The eyes are gray.

Skills: From a soldier's or even knight's standpoint, Madawc is not really adept in any kind of weapon as his time as a soldier lies quite in the past, nor is he very agile. However that hammer in his hands can still cause havoc if the enemy isn't careful or doesn't have the option of taking evasive actions for whatever reason. His demonic traits allow him to hurl blasts of very hot air at his enemies that can throw people out of balance if they're not prepared. Repeated hits will cause hyperthermia and even more prolonged exposure can be lethal by itself. However using this magic repeatedly in a short period of time does put strain on himself, too. Aside from that, he's a bit of a survivalist.

Equipment: Basically everything in terms of armor and weapons is looted from fields of battle. He's using a two-handed hammer and wears a coat of mail with breast, back, shoulder and leg plates, completed by a helmet. He has two horses (snatched away from a war theatre, too), both not of very good quality so he has to switch between them from time to time in order to spread the burden.