Name of Lord/Lady
Lord Demotoriaus

Physical Description:
Lord Demotoriaus is a man of an athletic build, muscular but not heavily by any account. He is faired skin with dark hair, that hair covers his head in a close fashion with the exception of his beard. Demotoriaus can commonly be seen ornate in full armor, polished at all times unless in the thick of battle.

Claimed Fief:
Duchy of Lordea

Basic History:
Demotoriaus was born to a lowly family on the reaches of Lordea and was actually taught the way of farming more than anything. That was until he was conscripted into the military at the age of sixteen, primarily seeing combat against the Orcs. The lad proved his worth, and with the help of loot retrieved from the battlefield, ascended his family along with increasing himself in rank. It was found that he possessed a highly tactical mind in regards to combat, leading to many small victories against the orcish menace. Eventually, he married his Lord’s daughter which helped to ascend his legitimacy of being a noble. However, disaster befell his Lord who sadly bore no heir, thusly Demotoriaus was ascended to the title of Lord of the lands not soon before the death of the King. For a year, he gathered his court with the help of his noble wife until the death of King Timault.



Background:
Champion (Bonus to Combat Rolls)

Name of Lord/Lady
Lord Aldwyn Gerantius

Physical Description
Handsomely grizzled, Aldwyn looks like someone you would expect to see leading armies and engaging in endless duels, not sitting behind a desk and doing paperwork. He carries the trademark features of a Gerantius; short, wild sliver blonde hair and violet amethyst eyes (although deep emerald eyes are also common in the blood). His face boasting a scar diagonally down the middle and one of his eyes has an eyepatch over it, his beard is well kept like his hair but still having a wild spark to it.

Overall, his appearance is one of a military veteran who decided to put down the sword and pick up the noble quill and has since tried his best to lessen the impact his earlier life put on to him to a very respectable degree. Although many claim his resting face is a scowl, in through its more of a slight grinning smile, except when his leg pain acts up again.

He is generally seen wearing fabrics worthy of someone his rank, well crafted and comfortable; an ornate walking stick carved out of fine woods which is never far from its owner. On occasion will walk around with his old breast plate for old time's sake, letting the dents and battle damage tell a tale far more convincing that those medals and awards would tell.

Claimed Fief:
The Duchy of Marethia: The breadbasket of the entire kingdom, Marethia is the spiritual heart of the nation and the people there are some of it's sturdiest. The long reaching farms feed the people and during drought, is often where refugees and even royalty flock. It's centrally located province makes it ideal for governance.
STATS: 500,000 Citizens | 4,000 Men-at-Arms, 8,000 Cavalry, 1,000 Knights | Produces 16 Grain/5 Gold/0 Iron | No Roads | 1 Fortress | Requires 5 Grain/Season. | 0 Unrest

Basic History:
Born third to the line of House Gerantius, Aldwyn was always displaying great mental abilities, burying himself in books since the day he learned to read. His position prevented him from having a realistic shot at the throne and thus was made to be a general by his house. While he was never one to be known for great displays of bravery and martial skill or inspiring speeches, he was noted to be exceptionally good at managing his troops off the battlefield, keeping them happy, fed and well equipped in no part due to his logistical skills.

His days as a leader would soon come to an end during the Battle of Hidlen Heights where, on a crusade against the Orcs, he and his second oldest brother lead an army into a trap that proved disastrous. His brother was slain and Aldwyn took several serious wounds including the scar over his face and a deep gash to his leg. When the remains of the army returned to Marethia, he was put under intensive super vision and nursed back to health. During this time with not much else to do, he immersed himself in book and conversation with courtiers and officials, learning more and more about the world and how things worked until his brother began to rely on him not only for advice, but also to handle more minor matters of state which he didn't trust anyone else to do.

However, while he was being doctored, an assassination attempt on his remaining older brother had succeeded, leaving him the sole heir to the throne. What Aldwyn would do next would gain him fame as he lead a massive investigation through his newly acquired lands while still being treated. Within a year the assassin was found and the noble who hired them was throughly punished. Since then, Aldwyn has ruled unquestionably over Marethia and seen it grow thanks to his administrative skill.

Background:
Administrator (Bonus to Govern Rolls)

Name of Lord/Lady
Lord Jeran Gades Stolt
Physical Description:
An impressive and battle hardened man with a thick mop of dark red hair and a fiery pointed beard to match. Lord Jeran carries the scars not of civil weapons, but of the cruel and savage implements used by the Orcish Hordes, gained over a lifetime of protecting the borders of the Osterian Kingdom.

Claimed Fief:

Basic History:
It is commonly regarded that the Stolts were a rowdy and rambunctious clan originally from the Highlands, but constant bickering and quarrels (and some say rebellion) led to a quiet exile to the Southern Reaches. Over the following centuries, the Stolts built Thunderhall, the lone fortress on the brink of the southern desert to guard against the occasional band of Orcish raiders. A fierce martial discipline was established, and after a few more decades of protecting the kingdoms border, the Stolts were allowed to officially return to court.

So Lord Jeran Stolt was raised amongst warriors, with a simple military code and the brief, spotty history that his family could cobble together. Regardless of the kingdoms view on the former exiles-turned kingdom protectors, the Stolts are duty bound to defend the Souther Reaches from the Hordes. When King Timault was slain by the Blackmouth Clan, Lord Stolt was devastated and took a vow of honor to destroy them.

Background: Champion (Bonus to Combat Rolls)

Name of Lord/Lady: Duke James Conrad, Self-Given title/what his people refer to him as Vizier James Conrad or The Snake of the Mountain

Physical Description: James is a man of average height standing 5'5" he is a very pale man who appears weak to those that see him. While he carries a scar along his face it wasn't from battle yet no one knows where he had received it and is a mystery to this day. James often wears the finest clothing available when in public to show his own and as well as his lands prosperity.

Claimed Fief:3. The Summit: (Unclaimed): A prosperous mountain enclave that is easily defended, the region entitled the Summit is a similarly far away region in the far North. The mines there are an immense source of wealth for the Kingdom, but it requires constant foodstuffs from the highlands, lest it starve out. Similarly, the Hold of Mathak is a viable trading outpost with the Dwarves of Tharag.
STATS: 700,000 Citizens | 1,000 Men-at-Arms, 0 Cavalry, 500 Knights | Produces 0 Grain/10 Gold/12 Iron | No Roads | 0 Fortress | Requires 7 Grain/Season. | 0 Unrest

Basic History: The Conrads are a mysterious family that has ruled the summit every since it's conquest. Some believe them to be masters of intrigue who often create crisis to gather more power. Some believe they were old friends and administrators to the Kings and the most loyal servants thus providing the kingdom with ample gold and iron. Whatever the truth maybe one thing is certain the Conrads always survive

Much like his family James is a mysterious fellow. It is assumed he was the sole heir when his parents died when he was 16 however there are terrible rumors that stated his had 2 siblings who disappeared a short year before his parents accident. Yet his rule was fine for his land and kingdom as a whole. He provided iron and gold to the King in return for a steady supply of food. At age 25 he joined the royal court as an advisor to the King however he was dismissed 2 years later for different reasons based on who is asking and who is answering but the 2 most pronounced are that his disagreed with King Timault on attacking the orcs and was dismissed for arguing with the king. Other say he planted seeds of descent in the King and other advisors ear that lead the King to war and ultimately his death. Yet he returns to the capital after mere months of his dismissal only time will tell what James truly did or didn’t do.a

Background: Administrator (Bonus to Govern Rolls)

Name of Lord/Lady Duchess Anfel Allard

Physical Description:As a half-elf Anfel has the slight build and pointed features of her mother's side, though softened by her human blood. Her pale auburn hair reaches past her shoulders though is usually tied into thick braids for sake of ease. A smattering of freckles goes across the bridge of her nose and her shoulders. It is agreed between both the common folk and the nobility that the lady of Enea has a most lyrical voice and her slender hands are skilled with both a lyre and a mandolin, though given her station she very rarely puts on any kind of performance except perhaps when hosting a party where such things would be appropriate. There she can show off her knowledge of poetry and legends, indeed Anfel's library back in Stag's Hearth is quite famous, having aquired many texts from passing merchants from Osteria and beyond.

Her eyes are an exceedingly dark blue and she is often seen wearing garments in her family colours, favouring jade greens and silver jewelry. Anfels outfits are often practical in nature, in her daily life she prefers loose fitting trousers and doublets, claiming to always want to be ready for whatever the rugged lands of her duchy may require (Of course these garmants are still clearly of fine make and design). While for more formal affairs such as dealing with other nobles and ceremonies she summons forth her gowns and dresses, a situation she relishes.

Claimed Fief: 4. Enea
A heavily wooden province in Eastern Osteria, they have long mingled with the Elves of the Cilhedon Principality. The logging industry there is among the greatest in the world and it's suitable farming is respected. It is the second largest province in the Kingdom.
STATS: 1,200,000 Citizens | 11,000 Men-at-Arms, 2,000 Cavalry, 1,000 Knights | Produces 11 Grain/12 Gold/2 Iron | Basic Roads | 0 Fortress | Requires 12 Grain/Season. | 0 Unrest

Basic History: House Allard have had a long and respected history in Osteria. Although not the origional lords of Enea they were loyal vassals to the first Dukes and have a bloodline that can trace itself back to the dawn of the Kingdom. Their ascension to this higher rank did not come through some bloody rebellion or dark plots, simply the winds of fate and birth. The old Duke Cawdor did not leave and heir to carry on his line and his last remaining relative was a niece married to the current lord Osren Allard (fifth of his name) and so the passing of the torch came. Of course that was nearly a century ago, to those living now the Allards have always been associated with Enea, their home town of Stag's Hearth with its roots growing deep throughout the province.

The new arms of Enea are a white stag, laying calmly on a green field, shown with a crown of ivory coloured flowers adorning its antlers. The Allards were never considered one of the grandest houses. Noble, yes. Respected in their way but humble as well. Their lands lacked the great farmlands of Marethia or the industrious mines of The Summit. Yet they worked the woods to their will, hunting, farming and growing strong. No one went hungry and thanks to their roads sending timber to all the realm few fell into poverty. The Allards were considered a handy ally to have but a house easily forgotten compared to others.

That was until their last house patriarch, Osrick, married himself a damn elf! It was always considered a duty of the house to keep the peace with the wood elves of Cilhedon. Osteria could ill afford being sandwiched between the orcish hordes and the elves of the east. No one ever expected a noble to marry one though! That was something the woodsmen in the border hamlets did. So the seat of the east fell to a half-elf, something the common folk are still getting used to.

Background: Diplomat (Bonus to Diplomacy Rolls)

As a lady of high birth Anfel has been taught manners and etiquette from a young age for both human and elven courts. Given the prickly response her heritage tends to bring out in others she had to learn quickly how to navigate her way out of hostile situations. Better to try making a friend before creating an enemy.

Of course she isn't the only one of her house who has a way with words. Given their mysterious foreign neighbors and the number of trade routes going through their lands the Allards have made sure to keep competent liaisons within the merchant guilds and a small cadre of professional envoys and diplomats on hand.

Name of Lord Baron Conrad Sforza
Physical Description:

Once described as tall, blonde, and handsome with light green eyes, the Red Pox has left Baron Sforza pockmarked and disfigured. While he survived the effects of the disease, it was not without cost. The Baron has shaved his head, except for a warriors top knot. His body is marked from scars, both from the diseases, battle wounds, and self inflicted lashes when Sforza is in a particularly zealous mood.

Claimed Fief: Lussex
Basic History:

Conrad Sforza was never expected to rule or inherit, the third son of Francesco Sforza, it was expected that Conrad would have to seek his fortune on the battlefield or don the robes of a priest. But then the Red Pox ravaged Lussex, three generations of Sforza's were consigned to the earth. Conrad, a teenager survived the pox, but the plague left him physically ravaged in both body and mind.

Conrad believed that he was spared for a reason, the boy who once scoffed at the notion of God and sought the pleasures of flesh now spends hours in silent prayer. While some have called Conrad's sanity into question, no one can doubt his bravery in battle. The Baron personally leads the Lussex Flagbearers against the wretched creatures of the Floodplain's, trusting in God and his sword arm to bring him victory against the wretched abominations.

The Sforza's call their ancestral keep of Cambria home. The castle town is once a shadow of its former self, a relic of the age when the Sforza's answered to no King or liege lord. Time like everything else however has brought a great deal of change. Now the Sforza's pay lip service to the Summit. While Conrad has sworn an oath of loyalty to liege and god, the actions of his Duke and his mysterious past have never sat well with the man who now occupies Cambria. With the throne vacant, uncertain times lay ahead for Osteria and its people.

Background: Champion

Name of Lord/Lady
Duke Alaric Gyre

Physical Description:
A man evidently of high and regal birth. Alaric does not evoke the learned scholar nor the hardened warrior in his physique but that of the Jauneaun noble lord. Boasting a respectable height and musculature expected of one who has trained for war, Alaric maintains a well-tended-to appearance of shoulder-length dark brown hair and a well kept beard framing a stern face with keen green eyes. Despite what his appearance may suggest, the Duke bears himself as a warrior would and is not unknowing when it comes to war, having seen his own, if limited share of combat and of command, for it would be a poor duke indeed who ruled the realm which housed the great Military Academy without a martial ability of his own.

The Duke can be found most often in rather humble attire of fine cloths lacking in the heraldry and decor most usually expected of a man in his position, with finer attire being kept for appearances at court or beyond the borders of the Duchy. A rather frugal man infected with the humbleness of his people, he is indeed.

Claimed Fief:


Basic History:
House Gyre has ruled Jauneau for decades and Alaric is the natural continuation of that order. Having been raised from birth as firstborn of his House, Alaric has received an education as befitting his rank, understanding both the running of a realm and the social graces expected of his position. An education further augmented by his early years of adulthood being spent at the Osterian Military Academy whilst his father ruled the Duchy and campaigned abroad alongside the late King.

It would be on one of these campaigns in which Alaric's father would meet his death fighting to the last in protection of the late King Timault, in a confrontation with orcs of the Blackmouth Clan which would result not only in the death of his father, but of the King. An event which has forced Alaric to step up to the title of Duke and rule his father's realm at the relatively young age of 21. It has only been a short-while since Alaric was named Duke, but he has thus far proved to be a capable ruler, just and fair of morals albeit lacking in experience.

Background: Champion (Bonus to Combat Rolls)

Name of Lord/Lady: Suran Keto

Physical Description: A tall, well-built woman of half-elven descent with short red hair and dark brown eyes, Suran does not, at first, bear the inborn nobility expected of a noble, holding herself as a woman of practical means whether war or governance. Her austere nature is evident in the limited pageantry and affluence with which she lives, she cares little for splendor, whether in a dress, tunic, or armor she prefers simplicity and functionality to appearance and grace which has caused many to think of her as stingy or common.

Claimed Fief: Unclaimed, awaiting mod decision.

Basic History: A noblewoman of a relatively young house, Suran Keto found as many doors closed to her as open, A daughter of an elven knight and human woman raised to nobility Suran spent her younger years emulating her father more than her mother having inherited his height and imposing health and physique. Suran's father taught her the art of battle as well as governance when it became clear that he would have no sons and had no desire to take a second wife upon the passing of his first. Suran took to her father's training and attention eagerly and did her best to succeed, devoting herself to the study of war and governance and to her martial training at the expense of her social relationships with her peers, who found her austere nature, comparably low birth, and generally stoic nature to be unnerving. Loneliness served her well however and she has found herself in no rush for the companionship of others, preferring to spend her days attending to the days matters or practicing her skills with sword and shield.

Background: Champion

Name of Lord/Lady: Suran Keto

Physical Description: A tall, well-built woman of half-elven descent with short red hair and dark brown eyes, Suran does not, at first, bear the inborn nobility expected of a noble, holding herself as a woman of practical means whether war or governance. Her austere nature is evident in the limited pageantry and affluence with which she lives, she cares little for splendor, whether in a dress, tunic, or armor she prefers simplicity and functionality to appearance and grace which has caused many to think of her as stingy or common.

Claimed Fief: Unclaimed, awaiting mod decision.

Basic History: A noblewoman of a relatively young house, Suran Keto found as many doors closed to her as open, A daughter of an elven knight and human woman raised to nobility Suran spent her younger years emulating her father more than her mother having inherited his height and imposing health and physique. Suran's father taught her the art of battle as well as governance when it became clear that he would have no sons and had no desire to take a second wife upon the passing of his first. Suran took to her father's training and attention eagerly and did her best to succeed, devoting herself to the study of war and governance and to her martial training at the expense of her social relationships with her peers, who found her austere nature, comparably low birth, and generally stoic nature to be unnerving. Loneliness served her well however and she has found herself in no rush for the companionship of others, preferring to spend her days attending to the days matters or practicing her skills with sword and shield.

Background: Champion

Accepted, given the Duchy of Jauneau, replacing newly elected King Gyre.

Name of Lord/Lady: Ecclesiast Timone II.

Physical Description: A tall, frail old man with only a scant few white hairs to hide his skull, the Ecclesiast could not easily be misplaced for a commoner. If his ornate white robes, gilded in silver, did not serve evidence enough to convince a passerby of his importance, the man's advanced age was proof enough; few lords and even fewer peasant men could have survived to walk the land as long as he had. Though withered by the passage of time, his skin wrinkled and his bones weak, Timone II's disposition did not betray his age as easily as his grey, tired eyes did. He moved with the vigor of a man a decade or two his junior, and was as healthy as any elderly man could be, a trait he attributed to his faith.

Claimed Fief: The Parna.

Basic History: Born into a peasant family a half a day's ride from the walls of Tythmas, it was incredibly unlikely that the young Timothy son of Georgius would ever amount to much of anything. The boy was from nothing and held no special talents worthy of note, being neither a great warrior nor thinker. The youngest of his parent's five children—having two sisters and two brothers—Timothy did not even stand in line to inherit his father's meager farmstead. Fully aware of the misfortune of his birth as he approached adulthood, Timothy chose to travel a route so often traveled by third sons with nothing to inherit: Osteria's church, the Church of Vinos. Once he found himself in Tythmas seeking a clergyman, he was helpfully approached by a smiling man in robes talking of Vinos. He asked the pastor about entering the Vinossian clergy, and after being approached with Timothy's intentions, the pastor found himself familiar with the young lad's story. Most Vinossian pastors came into the cloth in the same way as Timothy had. However, circumstances were special, and this particular sought to make use of young Timothy's youth and vigor while he could. Withholding the boy's consecration for another time, the pastor instead put Timothy to work, assigning him to assist the builders of one of the greatest architectural works of the reign of King Tenneth: the Parna. The ornate cathedral was planned to be the largest of its kind in the world, and construction had begun years prior, but was not yet near finished. It was in the clergy's interest to have their new seat of power completed as soon as possible, and the pastor deemed it more important for religious young boys to be sent to carry stones instead of preaching of the virtues of Vinos.

Owing to the project's magnitude, Timothy was far from the only one of the city's boys sent to work on it. Every street urchin looking for food or itinerant farmboy eager for an extra coin or two was hard at work on the grand new church, and Timothy found himself acquiring many new acquaintances as he started on his humble career. He met a great many boys his age in the throng of people working on the cathedral day and night, and many of these young men's personalities were antithetical to Timothy's own peaceable and obedient disposition. As was inevitable, he found himself easily manipulated by his new 'friends', and drawn into their antics. He began to shirk his duties at the cathedral, instead spending his time stealing food from market stalls and pick-pocketing old men, just to keep out with his rowdy new friends. Eventually, the authorities of Tythmas got the best of him, and he and his new friends were taken in to be given a talking to at the jails. After Timothy and his friends still seemed disrespectful after being thoroughly scolded, one of the guard captains decided that an example needed to made of one of them, to show the rest of the city's itinerant—drawn in from all the neighboring towns and villages to work on the Parna—what happened to thieves in Osteria's proud capital. A stroke of bad luck saw Timothy become the one chosen to be the group's literal whipping boy. The young farmer's son was taken onto a raised platform, made of scaffolding and built alongside the main street adjoining the cathedral plot, and was mercilessly flogged for all to see. As the tails of the whip cracked against his flesh, blood coating his back and tears coating his cheeks, Timothy pictured the face of the pastor that had welcomed him to this city. He imagined the old man in robes to be the man striking him, punishing him for his friends, for accepting his own offer to work on the cathedral. By the time it was over, all that Timothy saw was the pastor's face, and it was the last thing he remembered seeing before he passed out from the pain.

When he awoke, Timothy found himself in a dark room somewhere, his back aching. When he lifted his body up from his straw bed to feel the scars and gashes, he was pleased to discover they had been stitched up quite expertly. The pain, though, was too much for him to rise from his bed, and he had a great thirst. He called out, crying the name of the pastor who'd put him to work on the cathedral, the man who had sent him down this road in the first place. To his great surprise, it was that same man that then entered the room; but not in his robes. Garbed in plain clothes partially covered by black leather armour, the "pastor" that welcomed Timothy back to the land of the living carried a small dagger in his left hand, his fingers gripping the hilt lightly and confidently. In his right he wielded the same weapon, but held this one by the blade, and it was then that Timothy noticed that the pastor was leaning forward to offer the hilt to him. He grabbed it, and then, quickly and wordlessly, sat up from his bed, intending to plunge the knife into the pastor's neck. The armoured clergyman evaded the thrust easily, though, and punished the boy with a superficial slice along his leg, tearing his trousers and ever-so-slightly piercing the skin. Timothy winced, reactively dropping his weapon and grabbing his leg to inspect the minor wound. Capitalizing on this, the pastor took back the weapon he'd given the injured boy and hid it somewhere on his person, in a pouch or scabbard Timothy had not seen. He explained to Timothy that he'd used his position as a pastor to help to recruit him into one of his syndicate's youth gangs, as he had with most of Timothy's partners in crime. He offered him a final say in the matter, now that he knew what he was in for. He could either be formally inducted into the pastor, his flogging initiation enough, or he could be sent back home, taken back to his farmstead to be with his family again and told never to come back to Tythmas. Without much to lose, Timothy chose the other route so often traveled by third sons with nothing to inherit: a life of crime.

Some fifteen years after becoming a devoted thief, Timothy, now simply calling himself "Tim", had become exceedingly proficient. He'd bloodied his knife more times than he could remember over the years, and stolen more gold than he would've made in a lifetime as a farmer. His back still scarred after his flogging as a boy, Tim did not forget the captain who had singled him out from his friends for punishment. Now that he was fully confident in his abilities, and had the money to afford men to assist him, he decided it was time for retribution. Before he could proceed, though, he needed to be rid of one last obstacle. The pastor, his boss for the last decade and a half, had refused to give Tim permission to kill the guard captain, insisting that the murder of a high-ranking guardsmen would draw too much attention. Tim, now a street-savvy man, of course agreed, but cared too much for his own ambitions and too little for his compatriots to turn his mind away from revenge. Paying off the best killers in the group to meet him two streets away from the guard's barracks one night, Timothy took off from his hideout early, with plans to meet up with his squad late. He had to murder their boss first. Travelling, by moonlight, to the same hovel he'd rested in after his flogging so many years ago, Tim found a curious sight. A boy, like himself all those years ago, laying on his side on the same bed Timothy had once rested in, his back a gnarled mess of scars. Tim waited, out of sight, for the pastor—his syndicate's commander—to come and tend to the boy, and then acted much faster than he had the first time he'd tried to kill him. Pouncing up from the shadowed corner of the room, his dagger found the artery in the pastor's thigh, and all at once a torrent of blood came gushing out of the man's groin. He screamed, waking the injured child, and to avoid attracting any more attention, Tim then slit his throat. Tossing the dagger he'd just used to the terrified boy on the bed, Tim told him clearly and loudly that this was the road down which he traveled, and told him to go back home. By the end of that night, neither the pastor, the guard captain, or the wounded boy were ever seen in Tythmas again.

Life eventually caught up with the new lord of the underworld. Tim's reins over Tythmas' crime syndicate had been firm for years and years, but a crisis came up. The King himself, Tenneth, was growing anxious of The Parna running years and years over schedule and piles and piles of coin over budget. Tim, and the Pastor before him, had been using the project as both a front and a recruitment pool, and had made sure the work went slowly to ensure they could continue to have a legitimate pretext to pay off their hired hands, and a continuous new influx of people into the city for them to either bring into the life or rob blind. The King deigned to directly intervene in the cathedral's construction, firing most of the management and replacing them with loyal advisers of his. Earning an enormous salary, straight from the royal coffers of Osteria, they proved too rich to bribe. Worse yet, King Tenneth had also suspected that Tythmas' underbelly was meddling in the city's affairs, had the city guard's high commander replaced too. The new High Commander was of Tythmas' lesser nobility, and even richer than the cathedral's new foremen. No more would the guards turn a blind eye to Tim and his men's affairs. As weeks passed and more of his henchmen were apprehended and hanged by the day, Tim made a decision. Eventually, one of his captured brigands would talk, and betray Tim as he had betrayed the pastor all those years ago. Eager never to meet the chopping block, Tim decided that if he wanted to escape the pastor's fate, he'd need to become one. Hiding all of his greatest valuables away on his person, Tim fled the city without informing a soul, leaving his entire life theretofore behind him. Not wanting to pass by his old boyhood farm in Tythmas' northern environs, he instead crossed through the south gate, and headed from there to Osteria's most peaceful and inconspicuous province: Marethia.

Though he wished they hadn't, the pleasant fields of the Marethian countryside reminded Tim of his childhood. As he purchased himself an isolated country-house and set about planning what was next for him, Tim would often find himself drifting back to his younger days, to his abandoned parents and siblings, and how different his life could have been had be gone down a different path. His reflection made resolute his choice to flee the capital, and reinforced his decision with what to do now that he'd gone. Timothy affirmed that he would become the person he had always planned to be when he was a young man: a pastor, a real one. Of course, he would go about it an easier way. Using some of his acquired wealth to purchase himself tomes and articles of the faith, Timothy set about preparing to pretend to have already become a pastor. He invented a history for himself, deciding that he would tell others that his family were settlers of the Southern Reaches, but his village was destroyed by Orcish raiders and he moved to Marethia as refugee. His time conning men out of their gold in Tythmas had taught him to fake the accents of any of the provinces, and his natural low capital speech was generic enough for him to sound realistically enough like a transplant. After donning the robes and studying, Tim traveled to the nearest town over and approached the local clergyman, claiming to be from a neighboring village, sent to inform the pastor that he was being promoted and that he was his replacement in the town. The pastor bought the lie, and after heading out for Tythmas the next day, was never seen again. Timothy became established as the town's new pastor, serving them for years as a self-taught Vinossian pastor. Years and years onward continued to ascend the ranks of the church, using his talents for subterfuge to expedite upward mobility. Eventually, he found himself a high-raking Pastor in Tythmas, serving in the Church of Vinos' former cathedral: Skyhall. One dead Ecclesiast later, the young farmboy named Timothy was the head of the entire church. As the new Ecclesiast, Timothy chose to take on "Timone II" as his Ecclesiastical name. The first Ecclesiast Timone, a shut-in of a clergyman that had led the Church ineffectually for some three years before dropping dead and falling into the irrelevant section of the history books, had the sort of lack of legacy that Timothy was happy to outdo. His ascension, as luck would have it, came only scant months before the completion of the Parna—years overdo—and so it became that a young boy who had once carried stone to build the cathedral was now its first sitting Ecclesiast. The newly named Timone II's first years, under King Tenneth, were mostly uneventful; largely spent consolidating power, earning the respect and adoration of his underlings. It was only after the great King Tenneth's death that Timone sought fit to begin to pull strings.

The reign of King Timault was another story altogether. The newly crowned King found himself with the Eccliast's underlings constantly in his ear, encouraging his aggression and steering him inexorably towards war. It was made clear to him that the Church would support him on a foreign excursion, calling a crusade to help pull all of Osteria's great warriors to his assistance. Timault rewarded this stalwart support with massive financial aid; mountains of gold were spent on amassing well-outfitted and expertly trained soldiers for a new standing army, devoted directly to the Church of Vinos: the Templars. It seemed that Timone II and King Timault were destined to be a great pair, making Osteria strong together, but the King's untimely death complicated matters. The Ecclesiast distanced himself from Timault's campaign against the Blackmouth Clan after it failed, and has since then focused once again on rallying support at home. In particular, care and attention has been placed in ensuring that the next King of Osteria heeds the word of the Parna as loyally as the last.

Background: Diplomat.