Name: Alec Lingam

Race: Human

Appearance: Alec is a tall, relatively well tanned young man with green eyes, and unkempt brown hair. He's thankful he was given an average face, nothing to balk at, but nothing to boast with either. His body has a slight muscular build, but such a body is not uncommon to those who spend their time applying themselves physically. His body sports a noticeable amount of scars and sometimes cuts, evident of multiple close calls or even scraps, but not so many that it would be disgusting.

Age:21

Former Profession: Brewer, Social Reformer

Skill: Fast, slippery

Personality: Alec can be described as passionate in his beliefs, as he thoroughly pursues what he believes to be the ‘true way’ as best as he can, and as often as he can. If you approached him about his ‘problem’ he’d react to you calmly, with the same jovial and even talkative nature he treats everyone else with.

History: Alec spent his earlier young adult years working in a brewery, making a decent amount, more than enough to cover his daily costs and then some. He had spent a good amount of time as an honest brewer, but he felt bored, like he wasn’t doing enough with his life, until he discovered it one day. He was on his way home one day and a mugger approached him, naturally he demanded money and valuables.
The thought of being left full of holes and left for dead in an alleyway threw Alec into a small panic state, he let go of all inhibitions and allowed only his first instinct to take over. Alec knew he needed to distract him somehow to gain the upper hand, so his instincts amplified that wish, and he instantly began to drop his clothing.

The thief, like any normal person, was stunned by this and allowed Alec to take the initiative and pummeled the thief. With no time to recover, and still being largely disgusted, the thief went down quickly. After this Alec opted to spread his own beliefs by publically speaking about his feelings, specifically, about his brand new connection to nature, the feeling of finally being liberated.

And for a time Alec even gathered a small following of men and women, those interested in breaking new social ground, and those who happen to be as passionate as Alec. Although there was no law against public indecency yet, the nearest guardsmen always aimed to try and stop him. And try they did for months and he had always escaped; sometimes he’d escape without a scratch, and sometimes he’d get a few cuts from the guard’s weapons while narrowly escaping.

But all good things must end, and so did Alec’s glory days of freedom. You could say the stars were bad, or that he was just unlucky, but the guardsmen finally caught him. Alec was once again running away from the guard, but this time Alec must not have seen everything in front of him, because he tripped and fell on a puddle. There is now a law against public indecency.

Name: Emerson (Em') L. Pèlerin

Race: Human

Gender: Both? Neither? Responds to both He and She and prefers not to think about it.

Appearance:
Emerson's appearance depends entirely on how he prefers presenting herself from one day to the next. With plenty of outfits to give off both a masculine and feminine appearance, it's a toss up depending on her mood and how long he's portrayed himself as one gender or the other. His life on the run has instilled a habit of very frequently changing things up, in order to keep the heat off his back. On top of this, her hair colour also changes daily, almost a source of pride for Emerson. He started training her magical endurance a decade ago by changing one strand at a time until he passed out from the effort. It's still a tiring task, but part of her daily regiment.

Other than Emerson's extreme androgyny, there are a few other features that are distinguishable. While attractive there are signs of malnourishment present, she's not quite dangerously thin, yet, but it's clear that eating has either been impossible or of a lesser priority for some time. On top of this he's quite short, perhaps a result of stunted growth throughout her youth. Whatever the reason, Emerson barely breaks five foot on a good day, tiptoes or not. If pointed out, she would usually deflect by saying all of his growth went into his brain.

Barely peeking out from the collar of Emerson's shirt is a tattoo of an eyeball that glows faintly whenever she begins casting spells. Magical runes can also usually be seen running up and down the length of both arms, notes taken when inspiration strikes and the parchment in his backpack is too far away to bother retrieving. Usually these are covered up with long sleeves to avoid unneeded attention, but some days she can get carried away. Since joining the guard, these days have become much more frequent, no longer needing to blend in with the general population.

Age: 17

Former Proffesion: Street Urchin, Apprentice to Aurelius the Sage

Skills:

Photographic Memory: Emerson forgets nothing that he is taught, or reads. Events may pass by her notice, but that's usually because he is more absorbed in research than what's going on around her. When on the run it came in handy many times for recognizing off duty guardsmen to avoid.

Magical Prodigy: Magic fascinates Emerson more than anything else in the world, and she's dedicated every spare moment of her young life to it's study, and practice. Moreso than just recreating existing spells and effects, he strives to invent new and creative ways to implement the powerful resource.

Bereft of Talent: An almost complete lack of natural affinity for magic means that it's use taxes Emerson to the extreme. Often only one or two spells of even moderate potency will knock him out, or otherwise drain her completely of energy.

Poor Eater: Whether due to circumstances or choice, food has never been something Emerson has had in abundance. While this has affected her strength less than one might expect (Just try lifting her backpack) he tires easily when straining himself with non magical tasks as well. This, however, is much less extreme than his magical lack of endurance.

Urchin's Skills: While they've rusted since she was a child, Emerson's life growing up on the streets of Kings Knell has instilled a certain number of thieving talents. These helped him elude capture while on the run, and could conceivably be improved to full blown thieving skills of she so chose to spend her energy perfecting them. He has no such desire though.

Dual Casting: Emerson's trademark is mixing two (or more) types of magic to make a more potent affect. Often this results in overkill, but she considers it to be experimentation as much as practical use. Whether this means creating earthen shackles that electrocute their target, or a fireball that also freezes the insides of it's victim, the results are sure to be interesting if nothing else.

Personality: Emerson is in actuality quite social in spite of both his past life on the streets, and his shut in years of research and magical practice. Perhaps it was because of this shut in lifestyle that she developed a habit of seeking out company, even if she prefers to read or otherwise occupy himself while carrying on a conversation. A lack of... experience in this department and a bizarre sense of humor means that she does personify social awkwardness.

On top of this, while she loves talking about her research into the magical arts, she's bizarrely tight lipped about his actual years as an apprentice, describing what he does decide to share in a cold, matter-of-fact manner that one might find more fitting to her analytical mind. He is only slightly less distant about her years living on the streets of Kings Knell, clearly much more interested in staying in the present. Still, beneath this detached exterior cracks of emotion can be seen if asked on a particularly bad day. Hinting that these experiences are not so distant in Emerson's mind.

Clearly though she has a deep love for what she does. Even though it takes incredible effort to cast even the smallest amount of magic, he does so with great joy. When fatigue inevitably overtakes him from the strain of his actions, Emerson passes out with a smile on her face, clearly enjoying a satisfying slumber. How long it takes him to recover varies, but usually ten or twenty minutes will suffice, leaving him exhausted for the rest of the day afterward.

History: Emerson grew up like many of the urchins lining the streets of Kings Knell: Poorly. Although her lack of nutrition wasn't due to any absence in talent as a thief. Indeed, had he chosen her belly would have never been left wanting in those years. However, he put those talents to far better use (at least in her mind): The theft of books. Literacy wasn't something common amongst his kind, so he traded favors in exchange for education. Food and baubles were exchanged for knowledge, which awakened a voracity in her that still has yet to be quenched. One day a drunk and lost man stumbled upon her hidden library in the alleys of Kings Knell, and recognized her potential as a student. That man was Aurelius The Sage, one of the greatest researchers of the arcane arts in the city.

For almost ten years to the day Emerson served under the man, attacking Aurelius' library of research like a starved animal. However, there was one slight speed bump in Emerson's road to magehood: he was almost entirely lacking in talent for the magical arts. Every spell cast felt like swimming against a raging river, and rarely could he perform more than one such feat per day. However, the results were always both precise and powerful. Emerson seemed to grasp the science behind the magical arts like few others. How exactly to coax the power latent in the world around her and change it to suit his needs. Within the (admittedly small) world of magical research, Emerson was hailed as a prodigy, more than capable of even surpassing her teacher.

However, three months ago Aurelius was found mutilated in his bedroom. His skin was burnt almost beyond recognition and his organs were found to be completely frozen solid underneath. Dual magic was known to be a specialty of Emerson, and especially considering the fact that the prodigy was nowhere to be found in the aftermath of the murder led investigators to deduce an obvious culprit. Those who have met the prodigy in the months since the incident claim that Emerson has professed innocence, but in spite of that never allowed the guard to detain him for a trial. He often used his relative anonymity (At least amongst the general public), and ability to easily pass as one gender or the other from day to day to avoid suspicion. That, and a quick escape was only a spell away. A painful, taxing spell away.

However, though as a child she lived the life of a petty criminal, Emerson had never been wanted for a serious crime. In fact, for the most part was completely ignored except by others of his kind. Being actively hunted for murder was an entirely different kettle of fish, and far worse was that she had no license to practice magic. Guardsmen were easy to escape on any given day, but the guild was far more tenacious and capable of hunting him down. After three months of being on the run she finally grew tired of it. Knowing that her talents would be valued- and that the guard could be called "loose" with their acceptance of fugitives- he finally turned himself in for a pardon. Considering his talents for magic and stealth, it was agreed he'd be absolved of the high profile murder and made a member of the guard on the condition that he allow the city to track him at any time. Now she sports a tattoo of an eye on her chest. which activates a scrying spell any time she uses magic. A small price to pay, in his view.

Name: Fenni Gorrun

Race: Dwarf

Appearance: Fenni is an aged dwarf, his gray-black beard thick and long, his cold, tired eyes showing years of both wisdom and loss, and his scarred body showing marks of many years carried upon his shoulders. His hands are thick and sturdy, with many callouses from years of hard labor, combat, and other physical endeavors. Despite his age, he is still strong and sturdy, and can easily take most people in a physical fight.

Age: 86 in Dwarf Years

Former Profession: In times of peace, Fenni was a laborer for Clan Gorrun, smithing, mining, woodworking, and everything else that required strong physical abilities. In times of war, he was a soldier, marching into battle with the axe and armor of a dwarven warrior, defending and serving his clan in battle.

Skill: Axes. He can do just about anything feasibly possible with an axe, from throwing to fighting, to woodcutting and carving, and even things one wouldn't think possible with an axe. He's also an amazing drinker, alcohol seeming to have no effect on him no matter how long he drinks. He's even known to keep dwarven ale in his waterskin instead of water.

Personality: Fenni is a gruff, ugly person, both in appearance and personality. He's sarcastic, brutish, harsh, and doesn't seem to have any sense of manners...except around other dwarves. When with his kin, Fenni shows all the traits of an honorable, proud dwarf. With a groomed beard, polished axe, and the emblems of his clan displayed prominently.

History: For most of his life, Fenni was a proud member of his clan, bringing honor and glory in both his mundane tasks, as well as the field of battle. The clan records held many praises of his works and deeds, and songs were sung of him in the great halls during feasts and celebrations. He was a hero and everyone loved him for it. However, like all great tragedies, the hero's greatness must fall, and Fenni was no exception.

As dwarves live primarily in great mountain halls and vast cavern cities, one of the prime enemies of the state is foliage, trees and other plant life. These often encroach upon dwarven homelands with their vast roots, smashing through walls and invading dwarven buildings. Fenni's fall from grace was brought about by these enemies, for he was found consorting with them. Fenni was discovered supplying the great green menace with water, applying it to the soil around a small batch of flowers. When his shame was discovered, he was punished. Allowed to keep his family and clan name, Fenni was given a punishment; slay 1000 of the plant foes, and he may return with his honor intact.

Joining the town guard was simply a matter of keeping Fenni's martial skills intact, as he also does part-time work as a logger for the city, to try and accomplish his goal, so he can one day return to his home.

Name: Mog (məg)

Race: Troll

Appearance: While he is basically humanoid Mog literally looks like an animated pile of stones equal in size to at least three or four well-fed adult humans if not more. There are very few doors in Kings Knell that Mog does not have to duck to get through. Instead of hair, Mog has started to grow moss on the top of his head and upper parts of his arms which signifies that he has gone through puberty.

Age: 54 years.

Former Profession: Lifting and holding equipment.

Skill: Carrying and holding heavy stuff without dropping them.

Personality: Mog is not a bad troll. Bad trolls eat people. Mog is not really an especially good troll either, he's pretty average. Not a great initiative-taker, Mog generally responds to people in the same way as they react to him. If they are friendly, he's friendly and will be convinced of his friend's friendlyness. It usually takes a while for a new concept to take root inside Mog's mind, but once there, it's stuck for a very long time. One such concept is the authority of rank, and while Mog may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, much like a golem he would never dream of disobeying an order from a superior officer. Mog is also a fearless creature, it's easy to have no fear when you're pretty much made of stone. He'll wade into any kind of danger without a second thought if ordered to, or if someone convinces him that it is a good idea.

History: Mog was born in the mountains of his people far away from the city. Had he been born only one generation earlier he might not have known more about the world beyond the mountain than the odd captured wanderer would have had time to scream. But times are forever changing. Civilisation creeps forward. For Mog's generation, the mountain was not a place where food and shelter could easily be found any more. He would have to go away to have a better chance to survive.

Mog entered the great city in the same costume as many other trolls, as cheap heavy labour. His first job was simply to hold big wooden planks in place while the real workers worked on them. As time went by and Mog proved himself as a worker who did not drop stuff he found himself in the shipyard tasked with pulling ships out of the water for repairs and doing other heavy jobs. After that companies employees ended up in the guard's cells for heavy embezzlement no one knew what to do with the trolls that technically were not employees but rather tools. As a joke someone asked if they wanted to join the guard, and got a “Ye, sure” as a reply.

Having trolls in the guards has since then proved to be a double edged sword. For one they are a great resource because of their natural abilities. If a criminal is holed up behind a locked door, a troll can generally get it open. They are also able to patrol the slums and come back alive no matter how many times they're stabbed in the back. On the other hand, if they do witness a crime, it doesn't take much for the criminal to convince them that all is fine and to keep partolling.