Emmett Warde II

• Emmett takes on his father's name as he died when his son was only a baby. With his father's name now his own, Emmett however, sees it moreover a curse than an intended blessing. A curse because of the expectant for the same type of greatest the man he was named after had. Emmett does not bear a single memory of his father, but with the story he has collected about him, he is assured his father was indeed a man of any achievements. Yet now Emmett feels as if he must prove the same type of fulfillments his father had in order to prove his manhood.

Little Pup

• The Lead Explorer, Emmett's uncle, has called him by the nickname since he was a young boy. You see, Emmett has always been quite the runt compare to other guys. Emmett is shorter and considered skinner than average males his age, and this feeds to his insecurity yet he has always been encouraged by his uncle to use what others see as a weakness and make it his strength. The only person Emmett tolerates calling him Little Pup is his uncle, but even then he acts annoyed with the childhood nickname only because of his desperate efforts to act tough around others.

Emma

• This is actually an insult given as it is the feminine version of his name. He of course hates it more than being called Little Pup.

Adventurer 1

19

Male

When Emmett Warde II's name is mention most think of the first Emmett Warde, the seasoned traveler and distinguished explorer. It is uneasy for Emmett to know others expect to see his father when they look into his eyes. But with his confidence, Emmett supposes they see the type of person who will not back down from a challenge. And yes, people will agreed with that, yet the kid's daring behavior brings him to doing many foolish stupid acts for so-called respect.

The first thing to notice about Emmett is, he's a small guy. But no matter, he strives to take the insecurity he has about his size and diminish it with thoughts exaggerating his skills to be more than what they actually are. Thus, Emmett becomes cocky and sometimes in stupid bravery, challenges men of gigantic statures to a brawl. It's done both the best and worst for him. The best, because he has tackled some experience in hand-to-hand combat, the worst because he has gone close to nearly getting himself killed. Emmett loves challenges and will do about anything to prove himself as a man, thus reason why he accompanies his uncle on the journey. With this excitement to be the alpha male, Emmett though not masterfully skilled, has trained his body a bit through what he enjoys to be running. He is not nearly as fast as he would like, but his stamina is not half bad. Sometimes he thinks if only he had longer legs, perhaps then he would be quicker.

Emmett has pale skin that burns quite easily. So, to counterattack this while trudging through a blazing desert, Emmett is force to rely closely on fabric layers. During the day he swaddled in various strips of cloth to conceal every inch of his skin for fear of what pain the sun's rays inflict. And even over those fabrics, he tops it off with a sweeping dark cloak. But beneath the garments, and right back down to the skin itself, Emmett shares his fair amount of scars and bruises due to reckless bar fights.

5'3

125 lbs

Emmett is not one to cower at the face of fear. However he is not a thrill-seeker, he is not even adventurous either, unless that adventure includes glory and honor. Even when he could first think on his own, Emmett has obsessed over the thought of becoming a man of renown expeditions like his father. This has had both its negative and positive effects on Emmett. Positive because it has pushed and urged him to develop pride and search for success. Yet, negative due to an impulse to impress, the hunger to make others awe at his fulfillments.

Since Emmett has been raised mostly by his mother, he has adapted more gentler traits- forgiveness and generosity. He has become a forgiving person due to his own mistakes in life. With this, Emmett is not known to be a person who holds grudges, but this can backfire in a way that he allows himself to be taken advantage of, or become a pushover. But none the less, when he is stressed over a particular individual, he now currently finds himself inhaling the sweet dust of a desert flower. Even before the expedition, Emmett would sulk in bar, where bottles are popping, rather than bottling up any hurt feelings. As for generosity, Emmett did not grow up within poor living conditions, though he may have not been the riches, he has been taught it is better to give rather keep. Besides, treasures and trinkets mean nothing when glory is on the line.

Being the only man of the house since his father died, Emmett has felt it be that he strives for perfection. Because of it, it is not usual for him to give up, at least not unless someone forced him to due to a hopeless situation. If there is an challenge to arise that he can prove his masculinity or the flawlessness he is looking for, then he will face it. But a perfectionist has their downfall as without it, Emmett become dissatisfied with himself, even in a sort burn-out way. Next to his perfection, Emmett is also a person who takes everything very serious. Though this can be taken as a negative trait, it mostly shows that he takes every moment in a more concerned and attentive manner.

Though one of the strongest flaws of Emmett is his hate for rejection. He does not take no quite lightly and most often resorts to rebellion and defiance. It may be his pure stubbornness or angst that pushes him towards this behavior, yet no matter, he does not care about the consequences, only about his pride. Speaking of pride, Emmett is a very cocky kid, but it keeps him optimistic as he thinks quite highly about his sense combat skills. But it may be for the best, as if he did not find himself adequate, his perfection would eat him alive.

As for some of his other flaws, Emmett is deceptive, being that he does not always tell you everything you should hear. And with his secrets, he is in straight denial if you would ever discover it, even with evidence. But this is not saying that he would be loyal to the group for glory would be a sacrificed if he became a traitor. Instead, Emmett prefers to never admit to anything, best he still have his pride. His last flaw, being impatient, is actually something intensified because of his drug addiction, as he also suffers from having a short temper.

The Sling

• A very simple, yet effective weapon. Emmett's sling has a small pouch in the middle of two lengths of cord. Emmett's sling bullet is most often a stone picked off from the ground. For most of his life, he has used the sling moreover for hunting game rather than a weapon for protection. Yet, the sling is fully capable of knocking a lethal blow to hostiles within combat. He was first taught how to spin the sling by his uncle when he was about the age of seven. With a weapon where accuracy is key, Emmett has learned to have perfect timing and right aim. The weapon really shows when Emmett is on edge as he will continually miss a target.

Two Daggers

• As for closer combat, Emmett wields with him two daggers. Since Emmett's body is moreover built for stealth rather than strength, one of his weapons for choosing has become the dagger. With this, Emmett's fighting stance as reverted towards that of a rogue. When it comes to matter of skill, his sling bests the blades, yet he does not fare poorly with a dagger. It is managing two at once that arrives as a challenge to him.

Desert Flower Addict

• Among the Whispering Badlands there is a drug known as Desert Flower. The plant is recognized by its will to inhabit a desert and for its bright orange petals lightly patterned with strips of red. At the stigma of the flower holds hallucinogenic dust with the capability to induce euphoria. Once the flower is stiffed, the user inhales the dust and becomes delusional with unreal illusions seeming to them realistic. The drug is known to be found within desert parts of the world. Those who venture into the Whispering Badlands to collect and sell the flower are dubbed, Gatherers. As for Emmett he has secretly picked his stash, and occasionally when least likely spotted he inhales the dust the Desert Flower releases. Outside the Whispering Badlands, the flower is expensive as not everyone decides to journey out to a wasteland in other to find its fresh pickings. But Emmett can count himself lucky when he successfully does not get himself lost or even killed when wondering about with a head fill of hallucinations.
  
  After intake, pupils are dilated and the eyes are red to the point of looking bloodshot. The user sweats profusely as the body becomes over heated. The more times passes the more the short term effects fade. But as for long term effects, Desert Flower addicts are known to adapt a fiery temper along with little to no patience. Desert Flower is also highly addictive, for if the user withdraws from the drug, they begin to fall into extreme grief to even the point of suicide.

From what Emmett has heard about his father he was a scout in the ranks for a bit before becoming a full-fledged explorer later in life. Apparently his father did not venture off in exploration because of mere fairytales. No, instead Emmett's father was the type to sail of in hopes to discover new regions and continents beyond the homeland. His father's brother on the other hand, the current Lead Explorer, enjoyed the thrill of possibly encountering mythical beasts bound by legend. The two brothers ventured off on each every adventure together, with their findings of new land bringing in stable wealth, Emmett lived in well conditions even in absence of his father. In fact, his father indeed died within the Whispering Badlands, well most likely died. Well, his body was never found as he was abducted by Bone-Dry Slavers, he is just as well good dead with the torturous treatments towards their slaves. Emmett has come to believe in optimism that his father was mercilessly given a quick death.

Emmett has seen his uncle as that father figure, he is man who has mentored him his whole life. Emmett's uncle trained and treated him like a son. Yet, that is not to say that Emmett has hit his downfalls, because the kid enjoys bar fights and beating other men at their own games. Emmett is a bit of a gambler when it comes to rolling dice or pure shenanigans even if it is going to bring him legal troubles. And since it does not take much to get Emmett drunk, he has fought his fair share of drunken bar fights. He regrets his actions when finding his mother distraught and hurt over his poor decisions but in the rebellion of a young man, he finds himself doing otherwise.

The Whispering Badlands expedition is objected to hopefully change those behaviors and shape him up into a man. Emmett may perhaps become as great, if not better, than his own father. He understands this is one of the reasons why his uncle is bringing him on the journey, but he also acknowledges that his uncle wants to honor his brother by finishing what they started and letting his son be the one to join him in the glory. Emmett is eager, cocky, and lustful for the challenge that may gain him respect as a living legend.

Othen Perelyn

Beast - because of his appearance.
Blithiot - a combination of the words 'blithering' and 'idiot'. He hasn't heard it for a long time, as the friend of his who invented it as a humorous call for him once has moved away.

Adventurer 3

30

Male

He doesn't really have a reputation in the sense of many people already knowing about him. He has just been too far away from them for half of his life. However, when he appears somewhere, it usually doesn't take long for civilians and soldiers alike to notice him. Those who do know him more closely will likely tell two things about him: First: He is strange. Second: When it comes to a fight, he is almost like fierceness itself, not having much of respect for his own body and demanding bascially the same thing from others. The majority of the people on the streets rather tries to keep a bit of a distance towards him.

Othen's hair is cut short and of a very fair color. Sometimes it's even considered a 'dirty white'. As if he wanted to compensate this, he keeps his beard very long, bundling it with braces as close to his chin as possible. His more often than not exposed upper body is partially covered with some kind of warpaint. If there is any other meaning to this than just looking rare, he's an expert in keeping this a secret. In general he is often considered a colossus because of the immense amount of bulk attached to his body. His clothing appears to be comprised mostly of hide, but it is rather worn out and could use some thorough cleaning. His eyes are gray and he generally appears to be some years older than he actually is.

6'9

370 lbs

Othen may appear as someone who doesn't care much about civilization, however this, at least in his mind, is a big misunderstanding: He does care about it, he just doesn't believe that neat housings, cities and a lot of the things people have invented to alleviate their lives should be considered a mandatory part of it. It can make people weak. In order to stay within the bonds of his own belief, he has a tendency to make life more difficult for him that it has to be: Having not seen any kind of what other people would call a decent amount of 'education' and not knowing about urban customs at best or straightforwardly refusing adaptation to them at worst, he can be difficult. On the other hand he is not infected by a lot of the expectations a more civil person often has, which can be advantageous for becoming friends IF one is willing to look beyond the other things.

He makes use of two very simply constructed, large and heavy axes. Additionally, he is in possession of a wooden shield he can use as an alternative to one of the axes. All of this appears to be old and having seen continued usage for several years. As the two axes aren't exactly identical it is likely that he has first acquired one and then, later and from another source, the other one - indicating that he hasn't bought them.

The 'homebrew stuff' he can be seen smoking sometimes isn't entirely consisting of harmless, dried leaves. He sometimes adds ingredients to it that make him less reasonable for a while, but also even more ferocious.

Othen was born under very poor circumstances. His parents did barely earn enough funds to keep three persons and the shabby dwelling place they were living in alive, so they decided not to have another child. It was from early onward in his childhood that he learned to gather additional supplies farther away outdoors. Life was tough and the entire family wasn't really accepted in society because they were looking so poor and couldn't afford many things that others considered as taken-for-grantedness.

Unlike other people possibly would have done, he didn't get stuck in self-pity and despair. He accepted the situation and focused on damning the society he had only seen the more dark sides of. Never having been a real part of it, he voluntarily built up even more distance after his parents had died a natural death. The more he did so, the better it felt and the better the circumstances actually became for him. He didn't have to buy anything, he could just grab it from nature. What had once been a supplementary activity started to fill out more and more parts of his life It toughened his body. However, at some point, he became bored. He just had discovered everything there was to discover around the place he was living.

So he was confronted with a choice: Move to another place, risking to solve the problem only very temporarily, or look out for something like an actual purpose in his life. He decided for the latter option and joined a group of wandering mercenaries. It was there that he developed his style of fighting and the new occupation pleased him: Being a member of a group of wandering mercenaries basically was some sort of hybrid between his style of living outside of any settlements and being a part of a society. However nothing lasts forever: Old members went and new came, and not all of them did agree with all of his oddities. It became less and less fun, so he left. But he was now infected with being a fighter, and what could be more perfect than joining a new group that intended to go where barely anyone had gone before for a long time ? It's a challenge he has selected by his own will.

Rook

Lead Explorer

42

Male

Rook has a considerable reputation, one that permeates the common class of men and overshadows even some nobles. It is widespread, but not very prevalent (more like a brand than a hero.) Putting a face to this reputation, however, is a different story with the limited means of communication. There is a plethora of tales ranging from fantastic to mundane none of which Rook will either confirm or deny. He is as silent as the grave.
The following are some of the more predominant examples:
-filthy rich but keeps it hidden
-has been granted nobility or knighthood by some authority because of some great deed no one can quite seem to recall
-murdered his brother (Emmet, Warde of the Whispering Badlands) which is known by the family not to be true.
-a thief, grave robber, highwayman, pirate, black-market trader, or other criminal on the run from the authorities
-former knight, soldier, or mercenary of some sort haunted by his past atrocities
-a revolutionary seeking to gain a following and overthrow the current monarchy
The one reputation above all else, is that he is a man of skill and talent, and that alone has lead to a few considerable names seeking to recruit him and a few considerable payoffs for appeasing them.

A little muscular, but not buff. There is a kicked-back and easy feel to his disposition, greatly contrasted by his sly and observant eyes. Grey hair has begun to hide on his head and goate. His dark brown hair is thick and stylish, but often buried under a hat or hood. While he dresses with care, that is the extent of it, once his work begins his garments become merely a tool and thus are not without stains and tears.

5’9

180 lb

Rook is both one of the easiest and hardest people to get along with. He does everything in his power to diffuse situations, he always seeks mutual benefit and trade. At the very least, he will hear someone out. However, there is a monolith in his behavior that does not budge an inch. Because of this, compromise is taboo to him. He views the world as easy come and easy go, but as soon as someone seeks to change him he solidifies his stance.

He is a responsible person, taking care of everything under his charge. He expects everyone else to do the same. When they do not, he builds a hedge between him and them, and allowing their foolishness to destroy them while he sits by and watches.

It could easily be said that Rook is strictly neutral, and it would also be strictly wrong. He is autonomous and aligned only to himself. While this makes him a difficult servant or slave, he is a fantastic leader, fulfilling every expectation of the role.

Mobility, versatility, and power. Rook carries a hatchet and a war-hammer (with a pick on the other end. In his equipment is a recurve bow that he has trained to offset firing from horseback. He also carries a bullwhip (of which he is rather adept) as well as dual boot knives.

He is a creature of secrets, protecting each like a dragon jealousy hoards treasure. Much of his life and work is shrouded in a fog, with rumor and speculation mixed with half-truths and inaccuracies. The one secret that can be pried loose by those under his charge is the fact that his reputation bothers him greatly, as if he despised the very fact that he was known.

The truth? The simple truth without embellishment? That is not so simple, for we often fantasize our paradigm, or are flat out mistaken. Such a rickety structure is the memory of man. So, the closest to the truth from my perspective is as follows.
We were treasure hunters, in a way, when we had no urgency for a roof or for tax money or for funds to pay a healer. One might say that the lower class of freemen was the breeding grounds for treasure hunters. Life was just the down time between quests. Nor did it matter the desires of our guild or clan. We told them to hang themselves by their thumbs, we had heard the siren call of the minstrel be it fiction, fancy, or legend.

Emmet, perhaps, was better equipped than I. He was focused, honed on the treasures and the glory. I lacked focus. That was perhaps the reason he was the first to taste the dream, when he found that old wizard’s keep out in the Badlands. I was with him then, but doubted our success the entire way. I was cursed there, unsealing that dark chamber and all of those obscene leavings protruding out of the sand. The venture paid in silver, but at what cost?

I diversified a bit, and struck out into politics for a while. Actually got to speak to the duke once, I got to say three words. “Man must speak...” What a fool I must have sounded. I was interrupted by some whispered emergency, and waited to present my case later. I gave up after three months of waiting for action. I realized the fallacy of civilization in that time, and the fallacy of myself. I tried to pursue some mundane life back home, but I never knew how to be normal.

So, I struck out again, this time with spite and rage, and I threw formalities to the wind. Some would call it criminal, some clever. I shattered the spell of fantasm and fed the loop of greed back on itself, and it paid in gold. Glorious gold. I made enemies, and I killed them when they drew the line between life and death and facsimile. However, I never felled anyone who did not give me another option. Then, in one spectacularly impossible to predict twist... it all ended. The cunning escapades, the fame and glory, the money. I was a broken man, the idol of myself toppled in the temple of my heart. I recall kneeling in the sand and dust, leaves blowing around me. I was wrong, so wrong. I had played the game of mankind, and I had only achieved destruction of everything that meant anything. I was alone, surrounded by the dead and surrounded by life. I was the curse.

Our big project, the one me and Emmett worked on for decades, was the Hand of Eden. We had studied, and learned, and dreamed, and practiced. Little by little, did we carve legend into reality, and little by little we reached insight. Emmet was sure that he had found it on his last venture. He was striking out, either desperate or ready to rejuvenate the Hand. I find it more than simple coincidence that he vanished about the same time that I was dashed against the stones.

So, when I got back, I tended to his boy and widow. However, the curse of Humanity called, and I could spare not but a few days of the month in their company. Perhaps the tranquility was what opened up the clues, for piece by piece I had collected the keys to unraveling the Hand, and perhaps even driving out the corruption that had strangled it. Much of what I pieced together, came from Emmet's research. I was actually ready a few years before, but at the pleading of his mother, I waited to take Emmet’s son to forge him into a man. So, this journey is personal, and I believe the time is right because I am right for the task. I will need to compose a team.

Floure Camlo, in her native language Camlo means, one who kisses well.

Lady Lovel

• It is the name she uses when telling fortunes for her clients. With this name she earned a reputation for herself and people who are in need of her services know her only as Lady Lovel. Lovel is actually her surname translated into the common tongue.

Little flower

• A loving nickname used mainly by her brothers who have always treated her like something in need of protection. A delicate little flower, which if you know Floure at all is far from reality.

Physician

18

Female

The reputation of Floure’s people often precedes her. She belongs to a wandering race driven from their ancestral homeland centuries ago. In the intervening years they have spread across the nations, earning coin as itinerant peddlers, performers, storytellers and mercenaries. The Travelers are a mongrel people, intentionally mixing their bloodline with as many other tribes and clans as they can. Their women are known to seduce the most attractive and intelligent foreign men, hoping to enrich the bloodline of their people. It is believed that Traveler blood flows in the veins of most commoners.

Floure is an attractive young woman possessing a natural beauty, pure and fresh like a spring flower. One of the first things you will notice are her striking eyes, pale in color and framed by long black lashes. They are the kind of eyes that you can’t look away from and they often shimmer with thoughts of mischief and joy. Inherited from her high born father Floure has smooth alabaster skin. It starkly contrasts with her flowing raven hair which she often wears down letting it fall along her shoulders and back. Her hair is very thick and naturally curly. She has a sweet face with a tiny nose and full pink lips usually curled up into a cheeky smile.

As an entertainer the young woman dresses in bright and colorful garments, to draw the eye to where she needs it. She wears a white of the shoulder blouse with a plunging neckline, the sleeves decorated with intricate embroidery. Around her waist she wears a bodice made of supple painted leather which hugs her curves and cinches in her waist. It was custom made for her, richly decorated with colorful threads and swirling flowers. Underneath that she wears a skirt of multiple layers and varying contrasting colors. Tied on top of her skirts and around her waist is a sheer shawl in a rich purple hue painted with golden moons, stars and other celestial bodies . Small gold ornaments hang from the edges of the shawl . The young woman wears her riches on her body and is rarely seen without an assortment of jewelry adorning her neck, ears, wrists, hands and even ankles. They're made from all kinds of precious metals and stones

Being only eighteen years old and at the start of womanhood Floure has a very womanly figure for her age. With narrow shoulders, a well-developed bosom and wide hips that sway when she walks, but they are largely hidden by her full skirts. Being a dancer she knows how to move incredibly well and the way she moves is both alluring and graceful. When dancing she wears a pair of anklets with tiny bells on them, so her moves are complimented by an ever present chime.

5’4

119 Ibs

Floure is a compassionate and kind young woman. She is quick to take a liking to someone because she believes there is good to be found in everyone. Having grown up in large and very loving family she knows the importance of the individual comes second to that of the community. Blood ties are very important and she would walk through fire for any one of her relatives be it her closest brother or her most distant cousin. She has a strong maternal instinct and children often flock to her because they feel her warmth and caring soul.

Had she been raised in the environment of her father she might have turned out to be a soft spoken demure young lady, as it stands she is far from that. Floure has a way of wrapping people around her little finger, especially young men. Sweet words and flattery are her forte and she is not above using her beauty and silver tongue to get what she wants. Aside from her mischievous streak she is just a sweet girl who bears no ill will to most, her manipulations and schemes are mainly innocent play. She is not afraid to stand up to men and manages to get away with more than most, some say it's because they find her desirable while others blame her way with words. Floure is accustomed to getting her way and has a hard time dealing with rejection, which she does not understand.

Having met people from all walks of life Floure is tolerant of others but there is still a clear distinction between Travelers and the Goriken rat, the common people. She is wary of common folk especially the religious kind. Coin has its way of disappearing around her be it her own or that of others. Her people are known to perform a trick they refer to as the Huckeny Boro or the Great trick in which all money mysteriously disappears from a house. The victims are usually people of great wealth. Floure knows this trick very well and has performed it on regular occasion, so her pouch is rarely empty. Which is good considering she likes all things beautiful and expensive.

There is a familial kind of feeling to her, like she is the sister or daughter you never had. If she becomes your friend she will consider you family and treat you in the same way she does her brothers and sisters.

Iron knife

• A long extremely sharp knife forged from the strongest iron known to her people. It is engraved with sigils which are meant to give it cleansing and purifying qualities. It is at least three generations old and passed down like many things in Traveler culture from mother to daughter. It strangely shows little to no sign of usage despite its age. It is mainly used to cauterize wounds.

Will be added as the story progresses.

Despite her mixed heritage Floure is a true Traveler and Traveler blood runs through her veins. She was born inside a moving wagon, to a mother who had already had too many children, and a father who had made the mistake of falling for the exotic beauty of a Traveler woman. The result of a night of passion, unwanted by her father and in a way also an inconvenience to her mother. You would think this a recipe for disaster. Luckily her grandmother took pity on her, raising her as her own. Floure was a mischievous little girl even in her early years. She didn't care for learning to sew and cook and preferred to watch her grandmother amuse the common folk with images she'd see in the fire, the palms of their hand or even a bowl of water. The little girl was fascinated by the art and it was something that managed to catch her attention every time. Like dancing fortune telling was passed down from mother to daughter and none of her siblings had shown the same natural talent Floure had for the art of divining.

At the age of seven Floure's grandmother began training Floure in the ways of the Travelers, their customs, traditions and beliefs. In their many hours spent together Floure found a true mother in her grandmother, often pretending to misread the markings in her hand just so she could spend more time with the old woman. She learned about the medicinal properties of plants. Her people rarely stopped anywhere and they used what they found on the sides of the roads, in the forests and fields to cure the sick and mend the wounded. The talent of fortune telling was instilled in her from a young age and it was soon followed by a passion for dancing.

Over the years she spent on the roads their caravan traveled everywhere. Floure watched each of her siblings come into their own, her sisters became seamstresses, cooks and mothers and her brothers became, warriors, merchants and peddlers. During her teenage years misfortune struck one of her brothers, he was suffering from a rare disease. A sickness that hadn’t been seen by the Travelers in many generations. The method of healing this illness was all but lost, buried somewhere deep in the minds of the elders, who sadly even failed to remember their own children. The young Traveler girl set out to join to expedition to the Whispering Badlands in hopes of obtaining a vial of sacred water from the river in Mother nature’s palm. Traveler legend says the water has life prolonging qualities and healing powers.

Grace O’Faolain

Gracie ~ an affectionate name used by her kin, and fellow sailors. She doesn’t quite like it when others that don’t know her that well, use that name, to her, it’s a sign of disrespect, as they haven’t earned the right to call her that.

Cutthroat Grace ~ A nickname used by the people of Raughlaih, and Dunohwain, as she has murdered countless vagabonds that have gone against Baron O’Clearigh

Navigator

27

Female

In her homeland on the Isle of Falkirk, Grace is a renowned woman for her sailing skills, as under her father’s guidance, she has sailed on his ship on several voyages. Her father, Rorik, owns a fleet of ships, most of which they use for trading with the regions to the east, along the southern coast, just north of the Whispering Badlands. However, when there is a clan dispute amongst the other islands that surround the Isle of Falkirk, Rorik and Grace set sail to dispel the upheaval, often times resorting to violent measures. A common whispered word about Grace are the following, ”vicious corsair woman”, “treasure seeker”, and most importantly, “one helluva sailor”.

When first meeting Grace for the first time, most will note, her storm-grey eyes, and the way her gaze seems to pierce the soul of those she meets. Her skin is tawny, as years spent under the blistering sun have tanned it, and when the sunlight illuminates her hair, it is the color of fire itself, bright, coppery orange. She has a lithe, well-muscled figure from the work aboard ships at sea. Men of the vindictive nature would think her easy prey for her feline features, yet hiding beneath the surface is a raging torrent of violence ready to burst to at the seams if tempted. As she speaks, many will notice her strange, and peculiar accent. She is well-spoken, but it can be hard to understand her as she is not from any of the kingdoms surrounding the Whispering Badlands, though her voice is husky, she has a tendency to speak in a singsong voice, as if everything she says she has the intention to erupt into song.

Were she to pull back her long locks of copper hair, and conceal it under a cap, most folks would believe her to be a young boy, as she is not well-endowed, save for the prominent curve of her hips. She is rather gangly at that, as she is rather tall for a woman, but she simply attributes that to her place of birth, as most women are tall on the Isle of Falkirk.

When it comes to the matter of her clothing, Grace forgoes the traditional clothes of women, leaving the skirts and dresses behind in exchange for a loose, billowing white top, with a green leather waist cincher, and a pair of brown cotton trousers. To protect herself from the heat of the sun, she's purchased only recently a wide-brimmed hat, green in color, and a cloak to match. Around her neck, is a simple pendant that hangs on a black corded string, what is the pendant itself you ask? Why a rough, untumbled serpentine stone, green as an emerald but with a curiously black center, like that of a snake's eye. In her ears, are two black onyx stones inlaid in gold. On her right hand, she wears only one ring, it is a ring with a gold band, and an onyx stone as well. If you ask her why she wears onyx, she'll simply tell you that it wards off negative energies.

5 feet 8 inches

135lbs

For those that have never met Grace before, most will note her unlady-like ways. She curses, spits like a man, and has a hard time keeping her voice down in arguments. While violence is in her nature, as Grace prefers to solve her problems through fisticuffs, or a good swordfight, she is also a very positive person, which may come as a shock to others who take her to be a simpleton. One will find encouraging words coming from her mouth, instead of insults, depending upon the situation of course. She is an honest person, and finds lying hard to do, though, given the circumstance, she will if she has to. Most will find Grace too blunt for their tastes, but as they get to know her over time, they will see that she means well. Not only is she dependable, always completing her assigned tasks, and coming through on personal favours, Grace is also extremely resourceful. To her, it is like a second nature, she is constantly surveying her surroundings, keeping an eye on any unsavory people in her midst, taking note of anything that can be used in a fight, i.e., bottles, chairs, anything that really constitutes as a weapon.

She is quick to smile, and will offer an intimidatingly strong handshake to those she has never met before, as she likes to hear how people flinch at a woman’s strong handshake. When given the time, if it is appropriate, Grace has an infinite amount of sea shanties she will sing.

Grace has killed over one-hundred people. It is in part why she suffers from insomnia, as she sees the faces of those she has killed in her dreams. She suffers from a guilty conscience. Killing has become natural to her, that she doesn’t hesitate to do it if it calls for it.

Another secret that most won’t know about Grace, is that while she is afraid of falling in love, Grace is attracted to both men and women, of course she has told anyone.

On top of being attracted to both men and women, there is a man that fell for her, one that she dreams about to this day, his name is Cillian, though she doesn’t like the idea of marrying him, or anything of the physical nature. She often wonders what happened to him, as she hasn’t seen him in ten years.

Wanted Criminal in the northern island kingdom of Dunohwain, a rival kingdom that Clan O’Faolain has pillaged countless times.

Born on the night of a full moon in the fall, in the manor of the O’Faolain clan, on the northern shores of the Isle of Falkirk, Grace was raised by her mother, Clara, and her father Rorik. In her early years, Grace, as the only daughter in the clan, was doted upon by everyone in her family. Her seven brothers, Eoin, Liam, Cian, Darragh, Finn, Rory, and Lorcan accepted Grace like another brother, and took her with them on their countless escapades across the misty moors, often resulting in chastisement from their mother for being fools. By the age of 9, Grace could best her youngest brother, Lorcan, in fight of wooden-swords. She had a hard time with the other children on Falkirk, and often stuck by her brothers’ side. Her life in the manor was a peaceful one, until she turned fourteen. Her eldest brother, Eoin, now twenty-one, set sail with their father, as did Liam, Cian, Darragh, and Finn. An island to the south of Falkirk, had kidnapped the wife of one of their fellow islanders, and to rescue her from a life of certain misery, they sailed to the tiny island of Raughlaih, and plundered the villages in search of her. When they found her, they slaughtered the man and his children without mercy, and returned her to her own family in Falkirk. Piracy was rampant across the isles surrounding Falkirk, and not because of the O’Faolain’s, as there were other clan’s causing chaos during these early years.
Baron Owen O’Clearigh, the man in charge of Falkirk Island, had difficulties with Dunohwain to the north, and Raughlaih to the south. The Baron of Dunohwain, Cathal Mac’Gallchobhair, and the Baron of Raughlaih, Ferren Cearbhaill, were in constant conflict with O’Clearigh over various treaties and pacts they had signed. When one treaty or pact was enacted, either Mac’Gallchobhair or Cearbhaill, would violate the terms of agreement, often times over petty arrangements, such as who had rights to what waters to fish in, what uninhabited islands belonged to whom, or the taxation of land and property.

Irritated with the constant fighting between the three isles, Owen O’Clearigh enlisted the help of the O’Faolain Clan to act as mercenaries in keeping the peace between Dunohwain and Raughlaih. During this time, while her father, and her five brothers went out to sea to patrol the waters between Dunohwain, and Raughlaih, Grace stayed home with her mother, and her two younger brothers, Rory and Lorcan. For years, while Clara tried to domesticate her daughter with skills that most girls her age had mastered, such as sewing, cooking, tending to the garden, and the like, Grace fought with much resistance to being held to the ideologies of a proper woman. The only thing in the world that she wanted more, was to be captain of her own ship, and sail the waters unknown past Falkirk, Raughlaih, and Dunohwain.

When Grace reached the age of 17, after much pleading to her father, Rorik relented in allowing Grace to come aboard The Velvet Maiden, his biggest ship yet to own, and sail with him for a year in patrolling the waters. While Clara struggled against the idea of her only daughter sailing out to sea, her father kindly reassured her, that Grace would be in the best of hands. To Grace, she relished the first time the massive, twin-mast ship left the docks of Falkirk Bay, and sailed out into open water. One year, turned into ten, and over the course of the years, Grace aided her father in decisive battles against the marauders of Dunohwain, and Raughlaih, that threatened to capture Falkirk. They raided the strongholds on the islands where the marauders called it home, often plaguing the villagers for answers of their whereabouts. She wielded her shortsword like an extension of her arm, spinning, slicing, and cutting through the air with deadly accuracy. She developed skills of covertness, hiding in the darkness of the shadows, painting her face in fearsome colors to terrify her enemies, and slipping the blade of her dagger between the ribs of her sleeping foes. As time passed, Rorik expanded his fleet to eleven ships, and became the largest merchant, and the most profitable in Falkirk, as he had his crew venture to the east, the coasts above the Whispering Badlands, and return with commodities that Falkirk never had before, such as spices like cardamom, saffron, pepper, and various chilies; he brought back luxurious bolts of fabrics for the nobles on Falkirk, like silk and velvet, and countless other goods unobtainable on the island.

During the time spent on open waters, Grace busied herself, when she had time free from swabbing the deck, helping pull of the anchor, or even unfurling the sails, with reading. It was here that she learned of the legend and tales surrounding the Whispering Badlands, of a beast known as the Shade, one that held the key to replenishing the vitality to Mother Nature’s Palm. It was during an expedition to the east with her father, that she had ventured into a general goods store, and while browsing the limited section of books available, she pulled out a book with faded black ink inscribed on the front that read, The Mysteries of the Valley. She thought nothing of it until the chance of opening the book back on The Velvet Maiden, when a curious map fell out from the leather binding. She could hardly believe her eyes, where it led to exactly, she could not tell, save for a black “X”, on the map.

Cillian O’Houlihan

Killin’ Cillian- A name given to him while working under Rorik O’Faolain. It may just have been created due to it’s simplicity, but Cillian has earned it all the same.

Killin’ Hands/Hands- A nickname which has followed Cillian around his entire life. From the orphanage, to the killing fields, to the noble halls Cillian has always been known for delivering raucous knockouts.

Adventurer 2

35

Male

Cillian is known in different places for different things. Depending on who you ask, and where, you’ll get appropriate reactions. If you ask a Luskian merchant, he’ll respond with a gruff “murderer”. A Falkrik Islander may say “rogue”, or “deserter”, or “who?”. A Badland’s traveler would know him simply as Cill, a laidback barman with little patience for idiots and fiends. In all places Cillian is known for his hard knuckles, slick wit, and undying pessimism. Back home in the northern Islands he had a reputation as a problem solver, and that reputation continued to precede him, even when he failed. Now he’s a big fish in a little pond. A man of great skill and perception being used to watch oversized children and host low-talent fights.

Cillian has always been a rather handsome man. In the orphanage they would make fun of his ears, which were proportionally large compared to his head. But even then he would get compliments from ladies on how handsome he was. Later in life those compliments would be partnered with sultry eyes and parted, painted lips. Cill is a man of average height and weight with dark, thoughtful eyes. His face is a mixture of smooth curves and straight lines. Tight weathered skin spans his forehead as his full brows furrow in disapproval. His hands are a testament to his craft and creed; the knuckles calloused and rough, still bearing the stains of forgotten blood. His facial hair changes with the times, as does his hairstyle, but the color remains the same at a deep, soothing brown.

Cillian’s toned body is well complimented by his array of outfits and accessories, collected earnestly since his young adulthood. Cillian is now the product of a life lived running from one’s past. A poor boy trying to hide his classlessness, a lost man looking for his lost love, a criminal trying to make people forget his brutishness. Everything from the broken bridge of his nose to the width of his forearms betray the finery he wears and the jewelry he dons.

6 feet 1 inches

186 lbs

Cillian’s life has always been surrounded by violence, and he’s never complained, even when it took the life of this wife and child. Cillian is the sort of man who accepts his fate, who sees the wood within the trees and smiles as others miss it. During his youth, when he wasn’t weighed down by the enduring hopelessness of life, Cillian was a boastful man, taking pride in his employable skills and independent nature. Now he remains quite, hiding his abilities among his other plain, inoffensive features.

Cillian knows now that his skills are not the same liberating, pride inducing things that could both free him from the orphanage as well as provide him a healthy living. He knew now that these skills were as much death warrants as they were blessings. His unquestioning bravery doesn’t come from some noble, moral place, but instead is derived from a driving need to feel the rush of adrenaline one gets from a brush with death. His cleverness only helps him solve the problems he gets himself into during his next search for adrenaline, and almost never stops him from rushing headlong into the situation in the first place. Cillian never shy’s away from fighting words, but never lets a fight get too far at the bar.

Fists- Cillian always keeps his best weapons near him at all times. His fists are known for being able to knock men out with a quick one two. They bear scars from battles over the years, but he often keeps them wrapped in cloth, and protects them in iron gauntlets.

Hand Crossbow- When Cillian was working for a Luskian King he learned the skills of ranged combat with a hand held crossbow. This allows him a quick reaction to threats around him without needing to be up close. This thing is usually tied to a strap bound around his leg for ease of use and access. It must be reloaded after each shot so it tends to be useless later in combat.

Whip- Cillian has always carried this whip with him, almost as long as he’s carried his primary weapons. As a young man fresh out of the orphanage, he found easy work on farms and ranches. In his youth he was known for being an excellent herder of cows, and sheep. This whip has been with him since then, some twenty years ago.

When Cillian lived in Lusk he was married to a noble woman with whom he shared a child. They loved each other intensely and had built a happy life for themselves. Her father however disagreed with their love, and had disowned his daughter for her defiance of his word. In fact, he did more than that. The King wanted his princess back, and was intent on doing it without setting her against him. He attempted to frame Cillian for the death of his son. An assassin came in the night, subdued Cillian after a brief struggle, drugged him, and placed Cillian's bloodied, unconscious body near the corpse of his ravaged infant son. Waking up to the horrible scene he attempted to explain the situation to his shocked wife. She wasn't going to accept any of his protestations however.

The fact is, the assassin only killed Cillian's son, being an agent of the King. And yet, the house where Cillian and his family lived ended up burning down that night; with the bodies of his wife, his son, and the staff which served them burned into the foundations of the wreckage of the home. Cillian doesn't think about that night very often. The months which succeeded them, in the stinking prison, takes up the majority of his waking thoughts now. While the months preceding them still haunt him in his dreams and remind him of the life he could have had.

Not much is known of Cillian’s past, and even less of his true family. As far as he knows, he was discovered in a nunnery in the farming town of Glacier Hill on Falkrik Isle. From there he went to the orphanage and eventually ended up in the home of the ranching family, the O’Houlihans. He worked the ranch for several years for his foster parents until he decided to use his hands for something other than plowing the field and wrestling the rams. He started punching faces professionally at the tender age of 19 as a mercenary for the Falkrik lords and ladies. He made good money as he traveled to and fro, delivering important cargo, stealing information, kidnapping, rescuing, anything that may require a strong fist and a sharp mind. Eventually he came under the employ of Lord Rorik, who was looking forward to an epic campaign along the Isle’s.

Around this time he met a lovely young woman by the name of Grace. They bonded over the promise of treasure, seeking a long forgotten hoard along the coasts. There was in fact no treasure when they found the requisite cave, but they remained all the same as they spoke on their dreams and desires. Cillian foolishly fell in love with this girl, who he learned soon enough was the daughter of his current employer. He cared not for the social stigma as he imagined the life they could live together. After several weeks of meeting in the cave Cillian decided he would propose to Grace, ask her to run away with him. Unbeknownst to him, Grace was to set sail with her father on his next campaign. She left the next day without giving him an answer. Though Cillian was set to leave as an ancillary force a day behind Rorik’s forces, he decided against it. He booked passage the next day for Lusk, a far off tropical country along the western continent. The Journey took him a year as he stopped off at the many islands along the way, finding work and building up a repertoire of skills. He reached Lusk with the business of Island hopping behind him. He would work to forget Falkrik and all its woes.

Lusk was a lush work environment for him as crime was rampant and the local guard couldn’t get enough assistance. He built up a name for himself as a precise vigilante, which almost always brought the criminals in alive for the hangman. This bought him a position on a local Monarch’s security team. Only a year or so of perfectly guarding King Orel afforded Cillian a comfortable lifestyle and a seat on the King’s council. Once again, however, Cillian had made a tremendous mistake. He’d fallen in love with the King’s daughter, Johna. Orel disapproved of their relationship but there was nothing that could be done. They’d fallen in love in an instant and that’s all it took to decide to wed. Any protests the King made were met with swift rejections by Johna. She was regretfully disowned and promptly married Cillian.

They had a child and formed a respectable little life for themselves along the farm lands of Lusk. At 2 years old the boy seemed to be taking rather well after his father. He seemed tough and vibrantly filled with life. Until he wasn’t. The story goes that Cillian lost his family in a fire, barely making it out alive himself. The King, who did not believe this story, kept Cillian alive as his investigators developed a case. No foul play could have been said to have taken place in the house and so Cillian was given a trial by combat, which is afforded for cases such as these under suspicious circumstances. Cillian faced the Luskian knight in the blazing heat of high noon after months chained in a cell. The odds were utterly stacked against him in every way as the full plated knight swung his halberd expertly around his body. Cillian scored the killing blow, however, as he sawed into the throat of the knight with a rock after disarming him.

Upon winning his trial by combat he was free; free to be killed by the King’s assassins and other frustrated sources. Cillian knew that he needed to flee that circumstance entirely. So he stowed away on a ship to the only place he knew his past would never catch up to him, The Whispering Badlands. Upon arriving he had no prospects, until he met the traveling merchant Y’uril of Cord, a man who owned several businesses across the world, and who was currently building a bar in the Badland enclave of Red Rock. Y’uril could see that Cillian was a world wearied man with little patience and great power, he would make the perfect bartender for his little dive in this veritable hellhole known as the Badlands. Cillian has been tending bar in The Screaming Rock for several years now, trying to leave the mercenary lifestyle behind him. But, like a dog trying to outrun his tail, Cillian would never be able to outrun his past. A week ago Grace O’Faolain walked into the bar with a group of explorers on some expedition or another. It hardly mattered to Cillian. He took whatever money he could get for the gig, and told his only friend in the city, Corkran, to watch the bar for him while he was gone. Cillian dusted off his battle attire and followed the party out of Red Rock, proving to himself for the last time that he would never learn from his mistakes.