Appearance:

Lem is an older grizzled man with a somewhat gaunt appearance and a wiry build. His thin face is tanned by long days in the sun, and criss-crossed with pale faded scars. From out of this somewhat grim visage stare dark flinty eyes surrounded by prominent crow's feet. They are eyes that look cold and hard at first glance, but can spark with mirth should the mood arise. His nose has been broken at least once and should he choose to smile, it would show that Lem is missing one of his upper canines. He shaves both his face and head, often leaving a rough coating iron grey stubble for extended periods of time. Through his right ear there is thick hoop of dull yellow gold.

Physically Lem is not an imposing man, being of around average height and not of a particularly heavy build. When not in armour, his arms can be seen to be corded with sinewy muscle. On his left forearm are the grey blue marks of the nomad barbarians from across the eastern steppes, made by placing charcoal beneath the skin. His hands are rough and callused, the astute might notice that he is missing the tip of his right index finger. On his left ring finger he wears a wide band of silver and brass, there are two sets of initials on it.

The final thing might notice about Lem cannot be seen until he begins to move. Lem walks with a noticeable noticeable limp, avoiding putting weight on his left leg and clearly favouring his right.

Personality:

Lem Arronson is hard man, he’s lived a hard life and a long one at that considering his profession. He’s tough and reliable, diligent, someone that you can depend upon in a difficult situation. No great speaker, he uses plain language in his native northern dialect. None-the-less, there is still an authoritative tone to his voice, the air of one who has faith in their own expertise. Patient and quiet, he is a man who listens to what others have to say before speaking. All of these traits combined leads Lem to be a cautious (yet highly skilled) fighter and commander of the battlefield.

Despite his gruffness and somewhat unyielding nature, Lem has a relatively good heart. He genuinely cares for many of those who have served under him and is exceptionally loyal to the Band. He has served as sort of mentor in the past to younger men following similar paths to the one he has travelled. With his comrades he will show his dry sense of humour, one that tends towards the macabre – a side effect of spending a life killing people for money.

However, though he has great love for his brothers in arms, Lem is unscrupulous in how he conducts himself on the battlefield and when negotiating contracts. His morality and loyalty only extends as far as the band, after that, he believes he has no moral obligation. As might be expected considering this outlook, Lem is largely irreligious, though he is as superstitious as any other old soldier.

History:

Lem’s story is a something of a common one. He is not an orphan, his young life was not filled with hardship or tragedy or formative suffering. Nor was he a noble, born with silver spoon in mouth. He was the son of common folk, but well to do common folk. They lived outside a small town in the north of Westar where his father bred horses. His mother was from the east, Illyria, across the gulf of Litan. She had met his father as he soldiered on Crusade to the Blessed Lands years before. She kept the house and vegetable gardens while her husband worked in the paddocks and stables of the local lord.

Lem was second of four children that made it past infancy, he worked in the fields and pastures from a young age with both of his parents, learning to ride and care for horses from a young age. It wasn't a miserable or particularly hard life, sometimes the winters and springs were lean, and sometimes they were not. Ultimately they scraped a decent living for folks such as themselves and his family were content. Lem however, was not.

He had been an adventurous boy, always dreaming beyond the valleys of his childhood to the world that was outside. He wanted to see the world, and more than that, he wanted to be a part of it. He wanted to be more than just another commoner, more than his father; he wanted to live. As he grew older they clashed a lot.

He went south after his fourteenth name day, riding one of his father's horses, and carrying his old mail shirt and sword. Another crusade was gathering, the Blessed Lands and the city of the prophets was back in the hands of heretics. Lem rode east with the pilgrims and warriors that intended to recapture it.

He saw his mother's country of Illyria,, before turning south into the arid lands where the prophets had first heard the words of God and the Blessed One had first performed his miracles. The Crusade wasn't just a failure, it was a bloodbath. They had been mostly untrained and poorly armed, foolhardily believing that their faith and their God would be guide them to victory. It was there that Lem learned the importance of caution and tactics on the battlefield.

A experience like this might made some men go home, but not Lem. He went further east, to the far plains of the nomads where it is said that women give birth in the saddle. There he got his first taste of fighting for gold instead of God, and Lem liked it. For six years he warred his way through the eastern lands, fighting alongside the nomads and barbarians in their never ending conflicts.

By the time he returned to Westar he had made a small fortune. Then there was happy time. There was a woman in Port Layton for a while, thoughts of settled life, but something went wrong - Lem doesn't like to dwell on it. After that there were brothels, drinking and gambling. The money was all gone in a few years and Lem was at rock bottom. That was when he found the Band of Fortune.

The purpose he found amongst fighting men again saved him from dark time. He fought wherever the Band went, through times both fat and thin. He learned from the old men, until most them were gone, and he was the one doing the teaching. From a serving a man-at-arms as a serjeant, he rose to lead a lance of his own, and then to be a leftenant of the company.

All of this continued uninterrupted until five years ago, when Lem’s horse was killed beneath him during a skirmish on the border at Forlinger. Some runt with a spear stepped out from behind a tree as Lem thundered past and skewered the horse through the chest. The beast fell, and Lem wasn’t quick enough to leap clear of the saddle. It landed on his left leg, crushing his knee in to bloody, broken mess. Lem survived the battle, but he would never be the graceful and truly formidable fighter he had once been.

He served on with the band though, he was experienced, he could lead and train men and was still a good enough sword – especially when in the saddle. Besides, there was no other life left open to him by this point: he had given the band his best years. When banners were called and levies raised for the conflict that would be known as the Anarchy of Adalmar, Lem had been with the band for over twenty five years and was its second most senior commander.

Skills and Abilities:

Accomplished Swordsman - Lem has been fighting on and off the battlefield for over 30 years now. If you can do something with a sword that he doesn’t know about, it’s probably not worth knowing. His main areas of expertise are sword and shield or sword and dagger, he is less accomplished with two handed swords or other combinations. He isn't the greatest duellist, and isn't creative or innovative in his fighting style, but his repertoire of techniques is extensive and his execution of them was near flawless in his prime.

Expert Rider – Lem is very comfortable on a horse, having ridden extensively in both combat and non-combat situations. His childhood was spent caring and riding horses and his time fighting on the eastern steppes of the nomads taught him how ride bareback and sleep atop a horse.

Unscrupulous Tactician - Lem has served in variety of conflicts across much of the known world and has seen how many different peoples and cultures fight. His wide travelling gives him an extensive pool of tactical innovations to draw upon. From storing crossbow quarrels in latrines to make the smallest scratches lethal, to rolling felled trees down a battlefield to smash enemy formations - Lem knows how to fight dirty.

Weakness(es):

Lamed - Lem's left leg is lamed from being crushed beneath a dying horse several years ago. He can still walk without too much difficulty or pain, but his running days are long behind him. This gives him a severe disadvantage when fighting on foot.

Common as Muck - Lem has risen surprisingly high for one born a step above a serf, this does not do him any favours when it comes to negotiating contracts or interacting with members of the nobility, something that might be expected of a commander of a mercenary company.

Illiterate - Another disadvantage from an administrate and leadership point of view, Lem can barely read or write his own name. While by no means a stupid man, his book learning is almost non-existent.

Equipment:

Lem's armour is drab and mostly somewhat old-fashioned. He could probably afford better with what he has saved up, but he is man who finds comfort in the familiar and the reliable. He wears a coat of iron plates covered by rough brown fabric over a knee length mail hauberk. At shoulder he wears a set of spaulders and mail sleeves extend down his arm to his wrist. Mail mitts sewn to the sleeves can slipped over the hand. He wears vambraces and greaves on his forearms and lower legs, they only cover the outer portion of their respected limbs. His head is covered by a mail coif, on top of which he wears a visored sallet. He wears mail sabatons over leather boots to protect his feet. When out of armour he favours plain woollen fabrics and leather jerkins.

Lem wears an one handed arming-sword on one hip and a rondel dagger on the other. His sword is plain with a shark skin grip, the blade has a number of nicks in its edge, but still it has been honed razor sharp. His sword is complemented by a wooden heater shield, painted in the colours of the company. When on horseback he often carries a lance and hangs a horseman's hammer from the pommel of his saddle.

As for the rest of his possessions, Lem has a few more luxuries than the common soldier might expect - a proper camp bed for his tent, a ewer of water to wash with, a mirror with which to shave, a stool to sit upon and a table to eat at. As a leftenant he is afforded the use of two horses, a smoke grey courser called Duchess is his war horse, while for everyday riding he has a chestnut palfrey called Russell.

Appearance:


Personality:


History:


Skills and Abilities:

• Logistician – Despite his illiteracy (or appearance of), the little groom is seemingly able to get anything he wants whenever he needs. He can track down the smallest of needles in a haystack, and seemingly can find highest quality Taratio wine in a desert.
• Near-photographic memory - Il Sposoletto can recall what his master ate for breakfast on Midsummers Day twenty years ago.
• Squire-ly Conduct – Il Sposoletto is well at ease in war councils as he is cleaning armour and tending to horses. It almost seems as though the man never sleeps and he is an excellent cook.

Weakness(es):

• Avaricious
• Amoral
• Arrogant
• Impatient
• Sarcastic
• Theatrical

Equipment:

Role: Man-at-Arms, commanding a Lance.

Appearance: Baldy stands 6’1-1/2” (186.7cm) tall weighing 235 pounds (106.6kg) with shoulder length oily dark brown hair and a short unkempt brown beard. His piercing brown eyes are focused, cutting through the bullshit when he is presented with its stench. As a veteran soldier, Baldy wears a mail surcoat with a studded leather jerkin lain over the mail and a 2” wide leather belt to cinch it together at the waist. He has taken to wearing a bearskin cloak over this armor and wears high hard black boots. He has a few small leather belt pouches tied to the belt. Upon his hands, he wears a pair of black leather gloves under mail gauntlets with steel bracers.

Personality: Baldy is a quiet man with irascible tendencies. He has true respect for those who have proven themselves to him, which means the man survived combat by his side. Young, inexperienced people touting loud boastful comments are annoying to Baldric. He is quick to explode in their faces if they annoy him too much. For the most part, Baldric says nothing.

He is very pensive, spending much time with his thoughts. He has a high intelligence; maybe in another world, he could have achieved social greatness, but not in this known world. He was born low and there he will remain. His only saving grace was to remain a soldier after his first taste of combat. When thrust into combat, his firm sinews are quick to react. Baldy becomes animated slashing through waves of opponents.

Put a tankard of alcohol into Bladric’s belly and he becomes a happy drunk. He is quite the opposite what you typically see, singing, yelling and making a complete ass of himself. He enjoys fighting while intoxicated. It is such a refreshing experience for Baldric; quite liberating actually.

History: Baldric Durant was born to a mining family in a village two leagues east of Durranheim. His early life was a difficult one, but it served to keep the young man physically fit. He hailed from a hearty stock of mountain folk spending their days mining iron ore from the Ragmark Mountains. When the Ragmark called for their banners, Baldric joined with his father and brothers. His first taste of battle taught him to enjoy the life of the soldier, training regularly in the use of the sword as well as hand to hand combat. Baldric found himself to be a natural born warrior.

When that initial war ended, Baldric sought out free companies who would hire him based on his past experience as a soldier in the Ragmark army. His early armor consisted of a gambeson, conical steel helm and long sword with and without a shield. Being a soldier suited the 6’ 1-1/2” Northerner, learning everything he could about being a soldier. He was 17 when he first mounted a horse learning to ride. He has come to appreciate the shock effect of a heavy cavalry charge upon dismounted infantry; having seen both sides of the collision.

Over the years, the free company he served with went through droughts where they had no work and at other times, work was more than abundant. Occasionally, they worked as sentries or guards rather than actual grunt work. The unit did whatever was necessary to survive.

With the money he earned from the jobs, he was able to afford new armor and weapons to protect himself as well as an ample supply of alcohol. He found he was able to afford equipment previously only noblemen could afford. For the past six years, he has been employed by the Band of Fortune or as they have become known a Band of Fools.

For the past twenty-five years as a soldier, Baldric has sustained multiple scars throughout his life surviving no fewer than seven arrow strikes. He has been training as a soldier for the entire time. He has trained in horsemanship, hand to hand combat, long sword, sword and shield, short sword, saber, lance, axe, battle axe, great axe and the bow. As well as using the sword or fighting with his hands, riding a horse is a skill that has quickly become second nature. He understands the horse’s limitation and its potential. He takes full advantage of both.
There was a two-year period in his early 30s where Baldric served as a horseman in a Free Company of Lancers. He acquired good skill in the use of this weapon. He would never consider competing at tournament, simply because he not highborn. For one year in his mid-30s, he learned to use the longbow and served with a Company of bowmen. He enjoys the lethality of this ranged weapon, but he honestly prefers to fight up close and personal. He has acquired a fair skill with the bow and can use it effectively if needed, but prefers the sword.

At various times over the past quarter century, Baldric has served in various capacities, leading a lance or even a collection of three or four lances. He is comfortable being a leader of men or simply being one of the soldiers who get the job done. He was however promoted to command a lance about five years ago. In his relatively advanced age, he has grown tired of the young bucks who come along, thinking they are going to make a name for themselves, just to get killed seconds into their first action. His rule is, he won’t ask you your name until after you have survived your first encounter with the enemy.

Skills and Abilities:

- Sword. Having used the sword more than any other weapon, Baldy possesses his highest skill in this weapon with and without a shield. He is disciplined possessing a fine talent with the weapon; a difficult opponent to defeat.

- Hand to hand combat. As long as he has served as soldier, Baldric has been fighting with his fists and feet. He is not afraid to kick as well as punch. He has learned several unconventional methods of fighting with the hands and feet.

- Great Axe. In his late 20s, Baldric found himself experimenting with various axes. He would take an axe on campaign just to see how he would fair and fair he did. His axe skill in general is good, but he prefers the Great Axe for its heft. He considers himself to possess good to decent skill with the Great Axe.

Weaknesses:

- Abusive. Baldric has seen a lot in his twenty-five years as a soldier. He has witnessed some of the harshest mistreatment of humans by men. In his younger years he could afford to make moral decisions about these actions, but over time he has grown accustomed to it and has found himself on more than a few occasions acting in a similar fashion. He can be very abusive with the enemy, prisoners or anyone who simply stands in his way.

- Fierce. Baldric is by nature a calm, cool and quiet individual speaking only when spoken to. When stirred to action, he is one of the fiercest warriors on the battlefield or in the pub. When his temper has been elevated, he attacks with reckless abandon striking out at targets of opportunity. Sometimes Baldric is slow to calm; to recover to baseline.

- Gruff. Baldy is a rough looking man, considered crusty and by a few difficult to get along with. He is comfortable alone; knowing that his companions could be dead after the next encounter anyway. It makes no sense to get overly familiar with them.

- Irrascible. Saying the wrong thing around Baldric could draw his temper out quickly. As long as you are a respected member of the unit; a veteran, you have nothing to worry about.

- Alcoholic. Baldric loves rum. He will drink ale on a daily basis with meals. He may even drink wine if that is all that is available, but loves his rum. It is an addiction with him, forced to consume large quantities of alcohol whenever possible or the opportunity arises. On the plus side, Baldric is a happy drunk. He will sing, dance, laugh, joke and yell when he is drunk. His tendency to be irascible, gruff, fierce, or abusive are mitigated by his alcohol consumption. It is like someone flipped his “I don’t give a fuck” switch and he becomes much easier to get along with.

Equipment: Over a light gambeson top and leather trousers, Baldric wears a mail surcoat extending to mid-thigh. Over this piece of mail, which also includes a mail coif, he wears a studded leather jerkin. Upon his hands he wears leather gloves over which he wears a pair of mail gauntlets fastened with steel bracers. His foot wear is a high hard black leather boot and upon his head a small steel conical helmet. A 2” wide belt cinches the jerkin and surcoat together where the scabbard for his longsword is attached. Baldy owns a great bearskin cloak he has worn over his armor on occasion. This is something he wears when not actively engaged in fighting. He carries more than a few daggers of varying length for different purposes, none of which are to be thrown away. He has gone through several shields, they come and go. He may have one or two laying around somewhere. A great axe is also in storage someplace. If he needed to get at it, he would. He would strap the great axe on his back, arming the sword initially. He currently does not own a bow or a quiver of arrows, but could employ one properly if needed to. A 17-hands tall Destrier named, Charcoal has been his mount for the past two years after he lost his last one during a heated engagement near Bordia. Baldric does not wear anything fancy, nor does he pursue delicate or daintily crafted itesm. “A fucking bloody waste of money, if ye ask me!”

Relationships
I like to write a relationships section to help me direct any comments or perceptions my character may have towards the other PCs in this Role Play. They are merely Baldric Durant's perceptions...

Lemenuel 'Lem' Arronson: Baldy admires his Captain. Captain Arronson has been his mentor for about a decade. He has learned much from the older Company Commander. Baldy will do whatever Lem tells him to do. He would even fall on a sword for the man. He is the best Cap’n in the world!

Baldric worked in other companies before he came to the Band of Fortune. But he was with the Band five years ago working as a serjent when Lem fell with his horse. At the time, Baldy was wielding his great axe. The Young runt who ran the spear through Lem’s horse, caught the business end of Baldy’s axe. He cleaved the young man at the shoulder, wedging his blade through his torso where it ended at the belt line. The man split like a banana as he fell.

Baldy then called a few others to help get the dead carcass of a horse off Lem and pull the man out. He could not help his injury, but stood nearby to keep the most recent incarnate of the devil from getting close to his friend.

Il Sposoletto, who squires for Sir Ottavio Meduccoli is someone Bladric has grown to tolerate. Baldy admires his Knight, Sir Meduccoli; especially since he does not talk much. The man is a mute, Baldy knows it, but rarely acknowledges this condition. He simply likes him because he is quiet. He really doesn’t care why. But he also appreciates Sposoletto because he can communicate the knight’s ideas for him. He perceives Sposoletto has being a tenacious fighter; that quality he respects. What he doesn’t approve of is, his arrogant big mouth attitude. The Older Northman has has considered putting a mailed fist across the Taration squire more than a few times. His learned discipline has prevented him from acting on this impulse. He forces himself to tolerance.

Berislav Dąbrowski is someone Bladric has only met recently. He respects the young man’s reticence; pigeon holing him as someone who he might mentor if the opportunity arose. If not, it really didn’t matter to Baldy. If the son of a smithy ever wanted to ask Baldy a question, he would respond.

Sister Margaret is a bit of a curiosity to Baldric Durant; watching a nun making her way through the ranks of the Company. At first, he was opposed to her presence, but slowly learned to respect her work with healing wounds. Her quick temper to argue a point or to talk someone down has given him rise to merriment. He finds her somewhat humorous at times. He has never sought her out to converse. He keeps his ideas about the church to himself and feels no obligation to share them with her. She has asked him to attend a regular church service on occasion, but the quiet north man always declines her invitations. He has never needed her services and admits he finds her aesthetically pleasing to look at. He just does not have a need for her.

Sir Branimir Bradford is a respected Leftenant in the Company. Baldric has identified him as such and will obey his instructions. When Baldric first met Banimir Bradford, he questioned his intentions. He does not trust the highborn and was always suspicious of Bradford. Over the past seven years he has grown to respect the former knight. His charismatic quality does draw Baldric Durant towards him; making it easier to listen to his instructions as a superior. But the highborn birth thing does give Baldy some conflict.

Cedric Amberstone Cedric is young, which in Baldric’s experience is a liability. His unnecessary cheerfulness rubs him the wrong way too. Cedric is someone Baldy has his eye on. He needs to see what the young man is capable of.

"Sir" Wulfric York Baldric sees what Wulfric does. He appears to be a stron asset to the company appreciating his work. Baldric is unaware of “Sir” Wulfric’s lineage. He suspects something about him, but his general quiet demeanor and hard work speak volumes about his character.

Brádach 'The Piper' MacShana Baldric respects Bradach’s wisdom and years of experience. Bradach’s stories are very entertaining. They have captivated Baldy for years. The old man could have gone home at anytime. They both know it. The fact he has remained with the Company as long as he has speaks volumes about his character.

Gerard Gast With all young men in the Company, Gerard needs to prove his mettle to Baldric Durant. He perceives a false bravado or confidence the young man uses to camouflage his fears. Baldric believes that façade is a waste of time. He would prefer the young man be honest with everyone. Although Gerard can be overwhelming, Baldric does not mind the young man’s questions. He seems to follow him around like a little puppy sometimes.

Name:
Berislav Dąbrowski

Gender:
Male

Age:
Twenty-seven

Role/Position:
Bowman/Vanguard/Scout - Job includes scouting ahead of the expedition for danger, clearing obstacles, securing lodgings for the main force and more. While most often accompanied by a body of fore-riders (who the scouts are drawn from), it is not unknown for them to travel and operate in small groups and rarer still, alone. Bolsters ranks of the bowmen during battle or positioned as an ambushing force with his fellow scouts.

Appearance:

Dark, peppered hair and deep brown eyes, there has never been a more common or forgettable face. He is not unpleasant to look at, however, there is nothing spectacular that stands out about the man either. Standing at 5ft8, Berislav is just above average height by maybe an inch, but no more. Berislav boasts a lean body most likely attributed to by his current position in the company, which he has held for a few years now; and his previous life as a simple woodsman. His most recognizable feature is a faint scar running from his forehead to roughly eye level above his cheekbone on the side of his face. Due to its prominent positioning, it is still rather obvious despite having faded over the years. It is an interesting story that Berislav would be inclined to divulge to you, if asked and over a good mead, you're buying.

Personality:
Somewhat of a loner by choice, needing -- or at least craving -- to spend lots of time by himself allowing him to think, and entertain himself. It's not that Berislav necessarily dislikes other people, in fact the opposite could be said to be true in the company of most. He has been known to be able to get along with anybody and has been described as having an affinity for people, but still disliking company once in a while. With that said, Berislav doesn't have a deep need to be around people often and can spend weeks in his own company happily.

Unfamiliar with shyness or nervousness when talking to people, including superiors, Berislav is not afraid to speak his mind although is often more reserved in his speech and actions, preferring to think first, a trait installed in him by his father from a young age.

Almost always attuned with his surroundings, as one would expect from someone in his position, Berislav very much lives in his own head. Hustle-bustle, noise, bright lights, and action tend not to distract him but rather act as a mild annoyance.

History:
Berislav was born in a small village nestled at the edge of the woodlands and foothills of Westar, due north of Old Neystead, the second child of his family following a few years after an older sister. The people of the village, primarily hunter-gatherer folk, made their living off the land; occasionally trading goods such as wood, fish and meat to travelers, merchants and at times of trouble, the larger cities of Old Neystead and Tradeforth themselves.

A blacksmith father and gatherer mother, during his early years, Berislav and his family were also joined by his grandfather, Henryk; a prominent hunter in the village who taught the young man everything he knows. From age twelve Berislav would join and assist his grandfather with hunting and by age fourteen, a year younger than the average age, he was gifted his first bow and began to take a more active role in his community. It was clear from the beginning that the adolescent had an affinity for archery and it soon became an obsession, practiced day in and day out almost every day of the week. Originally destined for a holy life in the Clerisy (something his grandfather vehemently opposed) by his father who wished a better and educated life for his first and only son. However, as fate would have it, Berislav was turned away from the church for reasons undetermined; although it is not hard to discern it was probably a mixture of education and lack of faith.

A year after Berislav's coming of age (fourteen in his particular village), much to his dismay, Henryk passed away at the age of sixty-three. The cause of death had been an infected wound, acquired from a wild boar while out on a hunt alone, it wasn't until the next day that Henryk was found by Berislav and brought back to village. It had been known early on when the herbalist indicated so that Henryk would not survive, but his death came as a shock nonetheless and a source of much grief and mourning on the whole villages' behalf for a time.

After the passing of his grandfather, Berislav began to take on more and more responsibilities around the village, although this did not last too long. Aged seventeen, another tragedy had befallen the Dąbrowski family, when now Berislav's mother also passed on from a mysterious sweating sickness that ravaged their small village, in total cutting the population in half. For a while it seemed that the siblings' father would also die, he made a miraculous recovery however, although he would never get over the loss of his beloved Dominika.

It was around the time of the devastating loss of his mother, and stealthy decline of his father's mental wellness, that Berislav left the village. Upon leaving, he was gifted a sword by his father, tentatively crafted although far from masterwork, the sword would last him many years and with maintenance has survived to the present day.

Berislav spent the next several years roaming the lands, spending short stints in larger towns and cities but never settling anywhere for too long. From Westar he made east, winding up in Avaria making a living as a woodsman in the capital of Arlan for a few months before skipping out again and continuing on his travels, this time to the north. It was in Durranheim where Berislav was first introduced to war-archery, his talents transferred well and while he never swore fealty to any single ruler, he found himself for a short time on the back line of Ragmark's archers before travelling back southwest and resettling in Westar at the age of twenty-two. It was there, in the harbour town of Innsmouth specifically, Berislav became fast friends with a young and recently promoted Serjeant of a mercenary group known as the Band of Fortune. The promise of good food, women and coin at first did not interest the young hunter, yet the Serjeant's persistence meant it was only a matter of time before Berislav would enlist and since then he's just kind of stuck to the group like glue.

Skills and Abilities:
Keen Eyes- Excellent eyesight combined with years of hunting, and arduous practice with a bow and arrow have made Berislav a talented archer; his trained eyes arguably his strongest suit. Often described by others as having the eyes of a hawk, Berislav is able to pick out details both significant and otherwise about his surroundings and opponents.

Nimble- A natural agility combined with little to no real armour and practiced reflexes makes Berislav a rather nimble being.

Swordplay- Although Berislav only truly began practicing fighting with a sword in his late teens/early adulthood, he became rather adept quite quickly. No doubt aided by his familiarity with his father's gift, reflexes and dedication. By no means is Berislav a master swordsman.

Weaknesses:
Unarmoured- Wearing little to no armour and untrained in the use of it, the only protection he is afforded is by his clothing, reflexes and a leather jerkin.

Equipment:
Recurved Composite Bow- Ash wood, Gazelle horn and Deer sinew held together with animal glue make up Berislav's personal bow. It is not his original bow, although similar in design, which was made of inferior material and began to lose its use as it delaminated with overuse. 45lbs draw weight.

Father's Gift (Bastard Sword)- This sword has been with Berislav for roughly a decade and over the years has received much love and care, well maintained. Crafted with a considerable taper and a reinforced thrusting tip, the total length of the sword comes in at 41″ with a blade length of 30″. While obviously better suited to two-handed use, if need arises the sword can be handled with relative ease using one hand. Worn on the hip.

Hunting Knife- Primarily a hunting tool, if all else fails him in battle he can use this as a last resort in defending himself. Made in the likeness of the growth of a new shoot, the knife boasts a hardwood, oaken, grip, curved blade and a total length of 17.5" with a blade length of 11". Where his sword is kept on his left, this knife is worn on his back.

Clothing- Clad in a green linen shirt dark woolen hose and knee height soft boots made of travel-worn leather. Over his shirt, Berislav wears a sleeveless jerkin, secured by braided cord ties. A thick, hooded cloak goes over this although when not needed is rolled up and carried on his back. Sports two belts, both functional, one to help hold his jerkin closed and a second to carry his sword and scabbard. A combination of the appearance photo and this should give you a fairly strong idea of his general appearance.

Lem Arronson -

Il Sposoletto -

Baldric Durant -

Sister Margaret -

Sir Branimir Bradford -

Cedric Amberstone -

Wulfric York -

Brádach MacShana -

Gerald Gast -

Name:
Sister Margaret of the St. Paciomios Monestary

Gender:
Female

Age:
36

Role/Position:
Champlain / Secondary Doctor / Camp Servant

Appearance:

A woman of average height, Margaret is a woman with a striking appearance. She has a square jaw, high cheekbones, and noticeably red lips. Her hazel eyes could be mistaken for gold in the sunlight, though they are always sharp and heavy lidded. The black mane of curls she possesses is usually braided back tightly and tucked under her veil neatly, only unraveled when she is going to bed. She often dresses in a simple white robe with a brown cloth draped on top, as do most nuns, though it seems she does have a pair of pants on underneath.

Personality:
In a word, Margaret is sharp. Despite being a woman of God who has taken a vow of obedience, she is very opinionated, unafraid to speak her mind. She is outgoing in this sense, able to not only strike up a conversation with nearly anyone, but able to keep up even if the topic at hand isn't a strong suit of hers. Her intellect is something she doesn't talk often about, although she seems eager to share what she has learned about medicine, finding it to be absolutely fascinating. Still, she likes to make sure to keep her distance, always keeping people at an arm's length. She is capable of kindness when it is needed and does whatever she can to make herself useful, as busy hands are how she prefers hers to be. Usually calm, cool, and collected, she does have a rather sarcastic sense of humor, but means well most of the time.

She is not a stranger to battle, although she outright refuses to speak of her experiences.

History:
Sister Margaret has done well to keep her past under a tight wrap, making sure not to reveal too much of her personal history. Her history in the abbey, however, is public, and known throughout her town. It was at the age of fourteen that she first approached the St. Pachiomios Monestary in search of sanctuary with a pledge of chastity, leading many to believe she had come to escape marriage. Once accepted, it was revealed she was educated, though she claims it was because her father was a teacher in her town. Despite the raised eyebrows, Margaret gave her vow of obedience and placed her life at the Lord's hands, assembling without a hitch.

After several years within the Monestary, the small town which it occupied was attacked. Some say it was the work of the devil, others say it was the work of a drunken brigade stumbling through on their way to their homelands, either way people were getting attacked, even in such a holy place. Margaret believed there was no need to fear so long as faith was given, and so she remained, alone while others fled. Reciting the words of the lord, she planted herself in the chapel and prayed. When the brigadiers came to pillage and loot, they stumbled upon her, though it was said that upon seeing her without so much as a trace of fear, the fighters saw her as a holy woman, and fled the scene.

Of course, life continued after this, though a plague would hit her home next. Many of the sick came to the Monastary looking for both prayer and help, many being turned away as the members themselves began to fall ill. Desperate to help her sisters, Margaret once again turned to prayer, with it receiving a vision that told her she needed to learn medicine to heal the people. She tried to learn, only to get turned away, being assured that she need only rely on prayer. Over time, however, the plague claimed more and more lives. The shortage of doctors gave her a reason to begin practicing medicine out of necessity, and she would treat whoever made it to the Monestary, never turning away anyone. Once again, the people began to praise her, her story of the previous attack getting out and spreading like wildfire.

Margaret's popularity saw with it a rise in the ranks, but being the humble nun she was, she decided her work would be more appreciated if she spread the Lord's word throughout the world. At Father Joseph's prodding, she decided to join the Band of Fortune, as those who would go to battle surely would appreciate such a virtuous holy woman as a champlain, right?

Skills and Abilities:
- Peak Physique : She can lift a lot more than most women can, she does credit this to having to move bodies around a lot. She jokes that running away from things is a past time of hers, though she can run pretty quickly as well.
- Knowledge in Medicine : Learned when most of the doctors in her town died to the plague, the knowledge helps her treat surface wounds and recognize when one is ill or injured. Her self-proclaimed specialty is medicine making, which also gives her a basic knowledge of botany, as she recognizes which plants are useful for medicine making, which are safe to ingest, and which to avoid.
- Cooking : She learned to cook for groups at the Monestary, finding it a needed task, but she finds it enjoyable as well.

Weakness(es):
Members of the clergy can only attack in self-defense, as shedding blood violates canon law.

Equipment:
Carries with her a copy of her teachings, her pectoral cross, a club and a leather breastplate for self defense, as well as various bottles, a few books for reference in her medicine-making, and tools to treat surface wounds. Her horse usually carries her supplies for her.

Name: (Sir) Branimir Bradford

Gender: Male

Age: 34

Role/Position: Leftenant

Appearance:


Branimir is big and broad. Powerful of build and rugged of features, and yet kingly in his visage. He sports a well groomed beard and mustache that befits his mane of dark hair. Broad shoulders frame a muscled albeit scarred physique, with a great scar upon the left side of his abdomen from the battle of the Neystead Ford. His hands are callused and leathery, but strong and true. Long years of riding on horseback and marching with his men has given him muscled legs and hips.

He often sports a cloak when traveling, and his old tattered tabard to remind him and others of who he once was. He wears sturdy boots, and an expensive but worn leather belt with a bronze buckle, inlaid with the image of a wolf and an elk battling. He wears a blessed silver necklace that has been said to prevent him from dying.

Personality: Branimir is strong of voice and charismatic of personality, sometimes giving the men a taste of his dry humor. A grizzled mentor to some or a loyal battle brother to others. He enjoys listening to his men talk around the fire, even the cruder ones. Despite this, he can be very grave and grim, and his wrath is not something you want to be the target of. He has a deep regret of things he has done in his life, and tries to live with a code of honor even among cutthroats.

However, he has a mind for warfare, tactics, and combat. He has the patience to last a siege, he can spot a liar, and has a way of reading a landscape to find ambushes. Let it not be said that honor means stupidity in this band of fools.

History: Branimir was born to the Knightly lineage of Gideon the Gallant, who in his younger years saved a lord from death and gained a Knighthood from the deed. Two hundred years later, Branimir was born. He was the first born son, and sent off to serve as a page to Sir Ferguson of Forlinger. He had a standard tenure of service, gaining renown for his defeat of three bandits as a squire during the conflict against the Greenwick Renegades, gaining him his Knighthood early.

He then fought multiple conflicts within the blessed lands over the next decade. For his valor, he recieved his blessed pendant, keeping him alive from grievous wounds during combat. His last wound as a Knight did not end his life, but his career. He was honorably wounded in the stomach at Neystead during what was supposed to be the halting of a local insurrection. Oddly enough, he was aided by an insurrectionist. A peasant woman many believed was a witch, and rumors abounded on the two of them forming a heretical relationship. While he denied any such things, his family was already in dire straits with the other nobility, and denounced him his inheritance. He joined the band of fools 5 months after, having fought alongside some of these men in other conflicts before his fall.

Skills and Abilities:

• Leadership: Branimir is notable for his ability to read a battlefield and command troops effectively.
• Melee Combat: The ex-knight has been trained in most forms of warfare, though he excelled at the brutality of the melee.
• Horsemanship: He's fought wars on foot and on horse, but as a former Cavalier he is superbly skilled at mounted riding and combat.

Weakness(es):
Honor: Branimir is not above cunning tactics and executions, but he sometimes has a hard time backstabbing or killing those who have done no wrong to him. Old oaths die hard.

Equipment:

• Coat of Plates
• Great Helm
• Chainmail Hauberk
• Longsword. (Typology XXa)
• Knightly Dagger (of similar style to the Sword)
• Leather hunting Bracers
• Round Shield

Name: Cedric Amberstone

Gender: M

Age: 25

Role/Position: Longbowman

Appearance:


Cedric stands at 5'11" and weighs 190 lbs, much of which is lean upper-body muscle. He is surprisingly pale for someone who should have spent so much time outdoors. His hair, which is straight and nearly shoulder-length, is a dark brown, with equally dark eyes and furrowed eyebrows that suggest he is constantly in thought. Though he bears no blatant scars, there is an ugly red burn along his left forearm, reminding him of the time he gripped his bow incorrectly and the bowstring raked a good six inches of his skin. The mark is now covered by a long glove (see Equipment) that he refuses to take off.

Personality: Cheerful and optimistic, Cedric tries his hardest to find some good in whatever the situation. He has a great deal of respect for those older than him, as they are more experienced and hardened than he is, and trusts them to make the difficult decisions. He never shows a great deal of enthusiasm or excitement, as his time with the Fools has taught him that the world is a bit dimmer than he had initially believed, but he does his best to enjoy his work, and will always manage at least a grin.

History: If one were to look up the definition of "common peasant," they would find an excellent description of the first twenty years of Cedric's life. He was a farm boy, raised on a small farm on the western outskirts of the woods between Forlinger and Greenwick, that provided just enough of a profit to keep him from severe poverty. He took to archery at a young age, since wild game was a major source of food. He soon learned how to string, unstring, draw, and maintain a bow, as well as craft and carve arrow shafts and forge arrowheads (given the proper tools, of course). Survival was nearly as critical, since wild animals did not have a habit of sitting about, waiting for you to shoot them, and no one else was going to clean and cook your kill for you.

Two days after his 20th birthday, Cedric left home, travelling west and taking only his equipment with him. The reasons for this are an absolute mystery to anyone else, since it is the one and only subject Cedric refuses to expound on. The location and health of his parents and siblings (if he had any) are well-guarded secrets to him. All that is known for sure is that he has not returned to his home since he left five years ago.

Cedric had never much liked the idea of roving, moving from town to city and taking anything a stranger would hand out, but that is what he found himself doing. It was not a pleasant life, but there were always farmers looking for a good set of hands to help with work, so he always managed to find a reasonable place to sleep. He worked any odd job he could find, including a few months as a blacksmith (from which he learnt almost nothing and enjoyed none of it). He saved up a good bit of money by choosing to hunt rather than buy food and sleep at his place of employment rather than an inn.

His luck expired during the second winter, at which point the work seemed to dry up and he found himself paying out of pocket to stay somewhere warm. Desperate, he took a try at gambling, where he discovered that he was absolutely incapable of bluffing and lost every coin within an hour. One of the gamblers felt a faint tug of remorse and return a single gold coin to Cedric before he left. It was a hard lesson, one that he would never forget.

On his way out, he encountered another archer who looked surprisingly similar to him. Cedric recognized the other man's longbow and kit and struck up a loose conversation. Cedric asked if he was some sort of guardsman, as he had seen no other guards armed with such a weapon. It was here that he learnt of the existed of the Band of Fortune and the benefits that came with it. Cedric had never dealt with mercenaries before, though he had heard both good and bad stories of their behavior, but any decent source of food merited investigation. Curious, and completely out of other things to do, Cedric asked around the town for information.

"Oh, I've heard of them," a stranger said, whom Cedric later realized was an existing member. "But these days, they're called the Band of Fools."

Cedric couldn't resist a smile as he tossed the man his sole remaining coin and asked if they could use one more fool.

Skills and Abilities: Many years hunting wild game has given him tremendous skill with a longbow, though a normal bow will do if he has no other option. He is an excellent hunter, a skill that includes tracking, cleaning, and cooking. His strongest trait is his eyesight, and he has the ability to see small movements at a considerable distance, though his sense of hearing is nearly as sharp. He has a peculiar habit of cocking his head to the left and narrowing his eyes when he hears something.

Weakness(es): Though he has some skill with a hand ax, Cedric is completely untrained in using his fists or his knife as anything but a tool. He has poor endurance and stamina and cannot run at full speed for very long. In the realm of war and death, he is still very ignorant, having never set foot on a front line. He is also incapable of bluffing or lying in the sense that he just cannot keep a straight face.

Equipment: A steel-plate brigandine, steel greaves, and a studded leather bracer on his right forearm, with the left sporting a leather arm guard shooting glove. He totes along a steel sallet on a leather strap for actual combat. He carries a longbow (120-lb draw weight) and reverse-draw quiver for combat, along with a small one-hand ax with a hook on the opposite side. For cleaning and skinning animals, he carries a large hunting knife in a sheath on the back of his belt.

His horse, Maggie, is a red-brown thoroughbred mare with a black mane and tail, a wide white blaze, and a white sock on the front left leg.

Lemenuel 'Lem' Arronson: Cedric respects Lem greatly. As someone far more experienced in war and life as a whole than himself, he is fully at Lem's command, regardless of rank. His hope is to learn the lessons Lem has already learned without going through so many of the hardships himself. Cedric honestly doesn't know if he could handle the things Lem has handled, or even survive them. He knows he would do well to heed any warnings or advice that Lem provides, though he really doesn't get to spend a lot of time around him, as Lem has more important things to do than simply give life lessons to a young man. Fortunately, Cedric's keen eyesight lets him pick up on Lem's mannerisms and behavior in adverse situations, allowing him to glean some knowledge without being formally taught.

Il Sposoletto: Il is the exact sort of fellow Cedric has an odd feeling about. While he is certainly easy to get along with, Cedric has caught a glimpse or two of Il's more aggressive, controlling side. As a whole, though, Cedric sees him as an intelligent, capable man, who would likely not abuse any control granted him. He has never asked or ordered Cedric to do something against orders given by a superior and doesn't seem like the sort of man to spread rumors or undermine authority, which ultimately overrules any discomfort Cedric may feel. After all, this is a hard, dangerous life, not suited for sophisticated folk of soft speech. Everyone has their rough edges, himself included, and if it came down to it Cedric would trust him with his life.

Baldric Durant “Baldy”: Baldric's experience and age has given him a healthy share of respect from Cedric, to the extent that he never uses the man's nickname in or out of his presence. Nothing about his gruff personality hinders this respect, and Cedric would just as soon stay completely out of Baldric's way if he were in a foul mood. He learned early on that Baldric does not share his sense of humor or optimistic tone and subsequently does his best to refrain from appearing so in front of him, though at times he does give a half-hearted attempt to cheer the man up, even though it is painfully obvious that Baldric will have none of that. He is the kind of man who will only ever be impressed by one's skill in battle. Maybe Cedric will have something to show for him someday.

Berislav Dąbrowski: Berislav is, among all the men, the one Cedric most wants to work with. They are particularly close in age and height, to the extent that he has on occasion been mistaken for the other man from behind. Berislav is certainly a talented, capable hunter and scout, and Cedric secretly hopes to someday outperform him if just for the sake of it. He has felt it slip into their work, something that Berislav does not seem to appreciate, but Cedric enjoys the challenge nonetheless, as long as the men in charge don't notice. He has caught on that the archer prefers to be alone, and tries to allow him to be, but it is rather difficult to stay away from someone you would love to go toe-to-toe with in an archery match. Besides, they are in this together. If he's persistent, perhaps he can draw Berislav out of that state of mind.

Sister Margaret of the St. Paciomios Monestary: The nun is a bit of a mystery to Cedric. Why she would choose to be out here in the wilds with such a rowdy bunch of folk is beyond him. He has heard her reason and isn't quite sure if he believes it. What sane man would send such a person to the Band of Fools? He has heard her doctrine and has displayed some interest in it, but he has never really gone any further than that. Her God must have some merit if she trusts Him enough to protect her here. Of course, despite their age difference, Cedric can't help but see her as a beautiful, single young woman. He is not openly flirtatious, well aware that such behavior would be a great offense to her. Cedric's duty to his Band outweighs his attraction to the lady, and he forces himself to focus on the priorities, but he wonders in his heart if he could ever get to know her just a little better.

Branimir Bradford: Cedric sees Branimir as exactly what he is: a leader, and a good one at that. Branimir displays all of the traits of an excellent commanding officer, and if he could grow up to have the traits of any man here, it would be him. And, as with any other man of war, Branimir has stories to share, often with a moral of some kind at the end. His dramatic character and openness make him the most interesting person to listen to when it comes to campfire stories, though he can't help but wonder if they are embellished just a bit. Even if they are, though, that's just a part of good storytelling. Unfortunately, Cedric often considers him outmatched by Brádach.

"Sir" Wulfric York: The only real time Cedric encounters Wulfric is when he needs the dents hammered out of his greaves or the arrowheads of his arrows sharpened up. He seems to be a kind enough fellow, but frankly Cedric just does not know him well enough to form a real opinion of him. He infrequently chides himself for not doing so, but it always seems to take second place to something else.

Brádach 'The Piper' MacShana: If anyone in the company can provide valuable lessons, it would be this very man. Where some see a grizzled old man who can't stop playing shrill music, Cedric sees an abundance of priceless information. Cedric rarely speaks to him, preferring to listen to anything he may have to say. He appreciates the efforts Brádach goes through to set an example to the younger members of the band, going as far as to reel in the feistiest of them. Brádach has made it clear on many occasions that Cedric must "prove himself" to him to truly earn his respect and affection, though Cedric isn't entirely sure what that means. Prove himself in battle? In humility to authority? Perhaps even in piping? Whatever the man's definition may be, Cedric intends to earn that respect in spades.

Gerard Gast: The important thing that Cedric tries to remember is that he himself is not exactly a big, brave adult either. He can't help but notice the negative impact Gerard's personality seems to have on the older men, who don't seem to share the joy and bravado that Gerard so readily displays, especially since his dear old man is within arm's reach. Either way, Cedric tolerates him, even returning the brash attitude as an encouragement. He can't help but worry that all of that will vanish someday on a field of battle, and doubts that he will be able to sustain himself if his father passes. Regardless, Cedric knows he is in no position himself to scold the young one, so he refrains from doing so, even though he has on multiple occasions heavily implied to Gerard that he ought to be elsewhere.

Name: "Sir" Wulfric York

Gender: Male

Age: 31

Role/Position: Blacksmith

Appearance:


Wulfric has a strong physique owing to the grueling labor that smithing can give you. Standing at 5'9", Wulfric carries the well-known blond genes that his parents gave him. His blond hair is long and unkempt beyond normal hygiene standards, mostly due to him wanting to conceal his identity from would-be assassins or turncoats. However, while smithing, the hair is kept in a tight ponytail behind him, away from the bronze fires and coals. Facial scars fill the squared jawline of the last son of York, mostly inflicted on him when he was little.

Personality: Some would say Wulfric is shy, or even bashful. The actual truth is the fact that Wulfric is not a fan of speaking out of turn. A short lifetime full of torture, fighting and nightmare has forced him to hold his tongue unless he truly needs to speak. Because of this, many believe he has some sort of anxiety with speech. Preferring that his actions answer more then anything else, Wulfric is a quiet soul that pounds out the steel the company uses throughout the night.

However, do not take his quiet side as a negative. Though not entirely social, Wulfric is a fantastic listener, and can provide background advice others may not see or even understand. Not one to be rude, anyone that strikes up a conversation with Wulfric will be leading the conversation, but he will definitely add his own bits to the social event. Ironically, Wulfric is more social to children, and has been seen actually actively conversing with children from local orphanages. He continues to look for an apprentice to this day.

History: The York family were once a proud line, having owned several estates throughout the Kingdom of Westar. Wulfric was the youngest son of a rather large portion of the family, and was raised quite well. Being the squire for one of his older brothers, Wulfric would never become the heir of the family, but was happy nonetheless. This noble upbringing gave Wulfric a short teaching in both combat and reading. However, his life would come crashing down around him due to a feud between the his family and the Dunstands. Finally culminating in a clash in the streets, the York family were cut down through assassinations, executions and even abductions. Wulfric himself was captured in a quick abduction, where he was a prisoner for over 3 years of his life. A great majority of his scars come from this time period, where he was tortured brutally at the hands of several banner-men.

Through sheer luck, Wulfric was eventually able to escape. Realizing he was the only surviving member of his family, Wulfric went on to become an apprentice at a local bakery. His time there was short enough, and soon, he was under the tutelage of a blacksmith, who allowed Wulfric to stay there only as a tutor to his own children. Wulfric's ability to read allowed him to barter it as a tool, teaching those that could not. Picking up several abilities underneath the blacksmith, Wulfric would apprentice under him and the rest is history.

Wulfric is now the company swordsmith, casting the steel needed to create more weapons for the soldiers and infantry. His is well-known throughout the camp as the quiet man that can build you a pretty good weapon if need be.

Skills and Abilities: Wulfric is stout and strong, and his physique is not lacking. Larger and more broad then others due to his craft, it takes a large amount of pain to finally down the smith. In addition to his physique, Wulfric is rather learned, and can be seen reading many books at night. This gives him insight on people, customs and even particular noble families. Finally, Wulfric is an accomplished smith, and can create great works of art from metal. Repairing armor and swords can be done quickly and with little error, given he has the resources available.

Weakness(es): Wulfric is emotionally scarred from his former life. Furthermore, his survival means that assassins are constantly searching for him. The companies movement throughout the country is a blessing, as it does not stay in the same place for long. Additionally, though he is more skilled then your average peasant, he is still rather clumsy with fighting.

Equipment: Wulfric usually wears tanned hides and leathers, along with his tool apron. Almost always having his smithing hammer on him gives him an improvised weapon, and he can wield it well enough to fight off would-be attackers. Since blacksmith's rarely go to war with the rest of the company, Wulfric does not use much armor beyond leather and occasional brigandine.

Appearance:

Hard is the correct word to physically describe Brádach, and indeed is the one that most would use, for you do not get to be as old as he without living a full and violent life.

A full 6' 0” (1.83m) in height, though somewhat bowed by the weight of years, Brádach has never been what one would call 'imposing' – he is nowhere near as muscular as some, having retained his wiry body type throughout his life, corded and lean, like a coiled bowstring – but an life starting with farming and ending in the killing of others has given him the overall form of a gnarled oak.

This is seen most particularly in his face – haggard and coarse, like the side of a sea-facing cliff, weathered by age and climate – his wispy white hair worn to his shoulders but his beard always kept neat, framing his gaunt, almost emaciated, features.

What really draws the gaze though are the pale blue eyes beneath his snow-coloured brows, eyes that have seen so much and managed to retain there glimmer of mischief, there youthful vigour that the rest of his body can be said to lack, and a depth that any who peer into them experience for themselves – make no mistake though, as much as they may not seem so, they are the eyes of a killer.

Personality:

This 'old salt', having seen and done many a thing in his time, is a pragmatic and down to earth sort of mercenary with a personality that matches perfectly. So much so that he will not take on challenges that he knows he cannot win but will also attempt to keep younger, and hotter blooded, fighters in line if they get out of hand. On the other hand he is also a teacher, with plenty of stories to tell and many lesson to teach, from the correct way to plant a seed to how to handle a dirk and a sword simultaneously. In his eyes any respect is earned and until others prove themselves then they will have neither his respect nor his affection. Lastly he is quite a reposeful man and usually speaks in his raspy tones only when he must or when he is first spoken to, though he will play his pipes anywhere and everywhere.

(Will probably edit this later)

History:

Clan MacShana were once one of the pre-eminent noble families on the sparse shores of the Skerry Isles, having dominated the other families for well over a century before they were broken apart and descended very much into what they are now; mercenary warriors-for-hire that fight for the highest bidder.

Along with various other names, the MacShana 'brand' is known as one of quality and dedication, their warriors taking an oath to fight for their employers/paymasters until the bitter end and their skills at arms drilled into them with wooden substitutes as soon as they can properly grasp a pole – such was the life which young Brádach found himself flung into.

The life of Brádach MacShana, scion of a smaller cadet branch of the main clan, has been one of almost constant conflict. Training in both piping and warfare under the stern gaze of his uncles and grandfathers, possessed of many for they were an extensive family, he tasted his own blood in his mouth many times before ever being allowed to handle a sharpened weapon of metal.

Violence entered his life with cattle raids, standard enough when other resources were in short supply, and the plundering of your neighbours treasure, but soon took a turn that would see him whisked across the sea to Westar; having taken something belonging to a much more powerful clan, and knowing that it would mean his demise, his father sent him southward with a company of saffron-clad compatriots to live and die for whoever should pay them the most.

For nearly thirty years he served alongside his countrymen, their numbers dwindling away to almost nothing, before many of them decided to return home. For his own part Brádach could not, clan feuds were things that never really went away, and so he was forced to use his musical talent to earn some coin and to have his more violent skills diminish to little more than tools for throwing drunks from a tavern or collecting money for debtors.

It was only in his later years that he fell in with the Fools, mercenary work nearly gone from Westar thanks to Adalamar the Second, but his death – and the conflict that was certain to come with it – rekindled the need for strong, brutal and savage men to ply their trade once more. Brádach had been one such man, and with a few years of building himself up again, he was confident that he could be again.

Now he unofficially makes himself the musician of the Company and even more unofficial 'keeper of records', unable to write or read but with a memory that stretches back beyond his lifespan, while being able to handle oneself in a fight is never a bad thing either.

Skills and Abilities:



Weakness(es):

He's old, that pretty much sums up his major weakness.

Brádach survived infant mortality, he survived the violent younger years, he then survived what many would call 'old age' (his forties and fifties), he has survived more than most will ever live to see in their lifetimes and not without consequence.

The cold bites and gnaws at him as it never did before, his bones aching and becoming stiff of a morning and freezing night, and – in spite of keeping himself in 'good shape' – overexertion is not something anyone can accuse him of any more. Though lack of breath and ill-eyesight have not yet afflicted him, he suffers early symptoms of them both, unable to run with the pace that he once did, or to loose a ranged weapon...at all, really. Hearing, well, that has gone downhill a bit, his ears nowhere near as sharp as in the past.

Weak though he is not, age will catch up with you, and so he conserves or expends what energy he can, always bearing in mind that he just isn't the man he once was.

(May edit later)

Equipment:

(The elderly gentleman on the right in this picture, pretty much.)

Beginning with the flowing saffron shirt of his people, nothing really more than a golden-coloured smock with wide sleeves (useful for concealing weapon and plunder), it can be lengthened or shortened by the taking up or letting down of surplus cloth at the waist according to condition of climate.

In battle he wears a calf-length shirt of mail with a hood, old in design but well maintained nonetheless, and a simple brigandine of leather over the shirt. A metal 'steel cap' protects his head and an old-fashioned hand-axe paired with a simple arming sword a used for close-in fighting. His (usually reddened) legs go bare for the most part, and his feet are held in by a pair of sandals – something not really worn any more outside of the older generation on Skerry.

During cold nights and on long marches he wraps himself in a mantle known as a brat, a thick and triangular shaped garment that many compare more to a coarse and hairy rug than an actual cloak.

Lastly comes one of his most valuable items, and the only 'fancy' he allows himself, one which had been with him since he left his home, that being the set of pipes commonly known as 'warpipes' on Skerry. In most cases this is true, they can and are used for warfare as a form of martial instrument, but they can also be used for more melodic duties when outside of a battle or, should the opportunity arise, even for a dance.

Name: Gerard Gast

Gender: Male

Age: 16

Role/Position: Cavalry/Squire

Appearance: Gerard, standing at 5’7”, weighs at roughly 175 lbs. He has stringy, shoulder-length brown hair that parts lazily around his face, revealing piercing blue eyes. He’s got a few scars dotting his face where he’s taken a few hard knocks, but despite them, Gerard always has a gentle look on his face. He has a splotchy beard trying to grow in, patches of black and red make for an embarrassing sight, but he proudly keeps it unshaven. His build is athletic and thin, as Gerard is constantly running to and fro. His arms are shapely and strong thanks to years of spear training. His legs are powerful and defined, easily his most attractive feature if anyone ever caught a glimpse. In essence, Gerard looks a little goofy, lanky and thin.

Personality: Gerard, still fairly fresh among the ranks, tries to keep a strong confidence to hide his fear of inadequacy. He continues to maintain a childish level of joy hoping to raise the spirits of those around him. Gerard tends to flock to the more experienced mercenaries, hoping not only to learn their techniques, but that their skill in battle will ensure his survival. Gerard tries to get along with others, never bashful to strike up a conversation. Due to this, most members of the company find him a little overwhelming.

History: The Gast family had been selling their blades for five generations, leaving young Gerard as the last son to pledge his blade to a cause. His father, Johannes Gast, also in active enlistment, disapproved of Gerard's choices, fearing it was too soon as Gerard had not carried their lineage. Despite his disapproval, his father handed down his warhorse, Bona, as a gift and a charm. Gerard has been a member of the mercenary troupe for a short time, but continues tirelessly to hone his skills for his father's approval. When the powers that be were deciding on his position, Gerard’s father demanded he join as a squire, his preferably. Working rigorously next to his father, Gerard has been trying more and more to find opportunities to speak to some of the older cavalrymen, hoping to impress them and climb the ranks as quickly as he could.

Skills and Abilities: The Gast's were a family of mounted knights, giving Gerard ample time to hone his skill on horseback. Gerard eventually began practicing his hand at mounted combat, driving practice spears into bales of hay. Over time, he proved to have a keen accuracy when placing a blow. During his youth, Gerard found work as a courier. He possessed a strong body and proved he could cover long distances quicker than some of the stronger children and made his way into delivering more important parchments, such as troop movements and battle strategies.

Weakness(es): While Gerard practiced diligently at his family's craft, he tended to ignore some of the more mundane training. Gerard's swordplay and close combat stances were poor, and he didn't possess a strong strike. It seemed as though without a mount, Gerard's confidence melted away to reveal that he was truly still just a child on the battlefield. In addition, being a young man, Gerard lacks any wise, tactical and critical thinking skills. While following orders is easy, if left to his own means, Gerard would repeatedly make tactical errors and poor judgment calls as he lacks the life experience necessary.

Equipment: Bona, a black destrier, handed to him by his father. Gerard carries a spear, a sword, and a long knife. His armor is a collection of pieces that were still considered functional from his family’s personal armory. With very few exception, his armor was a conglomerate of leftovers and hand-me-downs. A bright basinet rested loosely on his head. The coat of plates appeared to wear him. His breeches had been reinforced with rudimentary plates until they could find a set of proper leggings to fit him. His boots were old and worn, but still functional. His brown leather scabbard almost scrapped the ground as the longsword he inherited was slightly too long for Gerard. His long knife, also handed down, sat happily tucked in his black belt. The saddle on Bona was also an older piece, one of the many his father had kept. It’s stitching was still intact, but the leather hide was nearly rubbed to the point of shredding. The ensemble, once pieced together, had earned its own name, the “Quilt of Arms.”