Name:Lucian Masque
Age:25
Gender:Male
Race: Human
Appearance:

Personality:Lucian can be described as honorable, he will always do the right thing even if it comes back to bite him, he would not strike down a prisoner or a unarmed man as well. He can be a little bit of a stick in the mud sometimes, and has a hard time developing friendships thanks to it but his intentions will always be straight and true, and when one earns his friendship he would die for them.

Brief Backstory:Lucian lived as the son of a tailor, his father having died shortly before he was born it was just him and his mother. And for the most part even though times were tough and they struggled to get by they were happy. Things changed when the boy was thirteen, the lord who owned his little village swept through it taking anybody of fighting age, to go die in some petty dispute with a neighboring noble. As luck would have it Lucian was one of these people, and when he set out little did he know he would never see his mother again.

His first battle could only be described as catastrophic, put into a desperate siege against his will. Lucian and the others of his village found themselves charging across a field strewn with corpses, arrows seemed to find the unlucky few and one found Lucian in the shoulder. But the desperation to live drove him forward, it drove him up the ladders, and it drove him to kill in the name of a lord who cared little of him.

It was after this battle, that he attracted the attention of one of his lords knights. The knight requested that he be able to take the boy as his squire, and his lord agreed. The boy trained to be a knight. Learning swordplay, how to ride and care for a horse, how to use a lance, honor and chivalry, and tactics. He took to this new life eagerly, until his master died in battle. With nowhere to go, and kicked out of his masters home. He wandered, until he heard about the Iron Rose knights and their cause, so he sought them out hoping to become one of them.
Equipment:Longsword, lance, armor, His horse named Brother, backpack, rations, a single book about history, and his trusty bedroll.

Skills:The sword is where Lucian shines he even goes as far as to call it his wife, on the battlefield it becomes apart of him. The two of them together become a deadly dance the likes of which few can stand, but on horseback he is just as deadly either with his lance in hand or with blade, the two of them together make for an excellent pairing.

Name: Marcus "The Hunter" Walt
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:


Personality: Flippant with little regard for courtly etiquette, Marcus has been reprimanded for mouthing off or a slovenly appearance more times in the last month than many knights are in their entire careers, but his eccentricities are tolerated, barely, due to his almost inhuman tenacity. Every time he's set out to capture or kill some renegade or criminal, he's returned with a head or a prisoner, sometimes taking years to run them to ground. His only other redeeming quality is his sometimes unnecessarily brutal honesty. Those who know him, and can look past his poor manners, know that he will never grant false hope nor offer unearned praise.

Brief Backstory: Born a commoner on a farm that no longer exists, Marcus has never truly forgotten the blood and fear of that fateful night. Indeed, he sometimes still dreams of it. When he was eight, his family farm was raided by bandits. They were far out in the country; Marcus could practically cross the Thain/Velt border by accident, and patrols rarely, if ever, bothered with the unimportant and uneventful farm. As such, lawless men saw easy pickings and descended on his family.
Marcus's father had scared off wolves and even the odd brigand, but the force that assaulted them that night was something even a hardened soldier would have struggled to survive. The farm burned, the fields were plundered, and the animals were slaughtered. His parents died giving him a chance to run, and he escaped into the night with the glow of the farmhouse lighting his way.
Covered in soot, mud, and even some blood (whose he couldn't say and, what's more, didn't want to contemplate), he collapsed at the foot of a tree and passed out from exhaustion. When he woke, all he could think of was how everything was gone and of who had taken it from him. Vengeance became his only possession, and he treasured it dearly.
It wasn't a fast thing, his revenge. He was just a boy, an orphan, with no money nor even a dagger. His campaign lasted well through his teens as he stole, fought, and lied in preparation for his raid on the brigands who had so effectively torn his life apart. Eventually, the time came when he was ready, or at least too eager for blood to wait any longer. He strapped on his sword and slung his rucksack over his shoulder as he set out for the last known location of the bandit clan that had set him on this path.
His old anger urged him on as he beheld their fort, but time and many brushes with death since that night tempered his fury with experience. The one-man siege that followed was something that would be spoken about in taverns for months to come. In fact, those rumors were what led to his being approached by the Iron Rose Knights.
The meeting didn't go well. Marcus had spent the months since his raid working as a bounty hunter and getting drunk between jobs; it was during his downtime that the recruiter found him bent over a bar. Some words were said, punches thrown, and, despite some lost teeth and a broken hand, the recruiter offered Marcus a place among the Iron Rose Knights. He was still kind of drunk when he accepted.
It's been nearly a decade since joining. Nowadays, if he's not returning from a mission, he's getting kicked out of whatever city he was staying in after offending some stuffed shirt. Much hasn't changed from his independent days, really.

Equipment:
Grim Fate - His preferred weapon is a supposedly-cursed bastard sword. The story goes that whomever wields it will suffer a slow, agonizing death. Incidentally, the man he took it from was a target that he spent the better part of four years hunting. The man was tired, bloody, and half-starved when Marcus finally caught and slew him. Cursed or not, Grim Fate never seems to need sharpening and almost seems to know where the weak points in enemies' armor is.
Mail-backed leather jacket - A holdover from his days as a bounty hunter, Marcus prefers to wear lighter armor. Heavy armor, he reasons, just leaves you tired and slow, which gets you killed.
Boots of Haste - Stylish boots with a simple speed-enhancing enchantment. Due to their magic, Marcus is fleeter of foot and quicker to react than most humans.
Skills:
Tracking - Whether it's a massive force or a single man, Marcus can figure out where they're going, how much they're carrying, and even if anyone is injured.
Dirty Tricks - A fistful of dirt to the eyes, a shot to a sensitive area, or a sword in the back. Marcus fights dirty and laughs at those who don't.
One-Handed Swordsman - Marcus is a highly competent swordsman, and his style is almost entirely original since he lacks proper training. That doesn't matter much against other self-taught fighters, but rank-and-file soldiers and noble-born swordsmen might be confused by his non-traditional techniques.
Survivalist - Marcus is used to surviving on little more than a blade and guts. When on the road, he eats little, drinks sparingly, and sleeps light, but he's always ready and able to fight or run a little bit farther.

One, a long time ago, there was a family that went by the name Ravenwood. Warriors of great might, they were known to send their members to travels the lands to gets stronger, before coming home to eventually have children. However, over time tragedy and war and other mishaps of nature of mankind took the lives of the family’s members, whittling them down bit by bit until the family was a shell of its former self. Gone were the days of travel and fighting, the earning of glory, and praises given to some of them by the bards of older times!

Eventually only one member remained at the tail end of what was now a dead family of warriors. His name was Krevan Ravenwood, named for the family’s founder, the last male among his small family, the last of his line who might be sent out to travel as his ancestors did. So his father trained him as best he could, pushing him, though his son seemed to rebel in part by preferring the magical arts. In particular, the dark arts. After many years of argument and fighting amongst family members, Krevan was finally persuaded to, unlike his siblings, set off on a trip to become stronger.

On this trip he eventually ran into and fought a traveling Hundi, a female, who in a duel he beat after much effort. Soon after the two were wed, but it was this chance to settle down away from his remaining family that left Krevan leaning towards his interests in magic. Moving to a home on the very edge of a town in Thaln, he began practicing the dark arts from books he had bought along his travels. And with his wife he produced a great deal of children, some of which were turned into his acolytes over the years, some of which were used as fodder for experiments, and a few that were used with his wife to forcefully make their home look normal and put on a face for the locals in the town. But even so, rumors abounded over time.

It was into this home that Elena was born, a half-hundi and half-human child who was blessed to be more around her mother than her father. Among her many siblings, she was among those of them who held disgust for her father’s necromancy and cruel experiments always, though never spoke it for fear of retribution or being used as an experiment. Her mother too was in disgust, but weakened and kept in line by magic she had no power to protest her husband nor go against him without fear of her children’s death or worse being done to them. Her husband had become a man of great evil, and the least she could do would be to protect her children like Elena to at least given them some chance of a life. At least, those of her children who had not bene converted over by her husband to his manner of things and thinking.

Eventually, at the age of 9, Krevan’s home was burst into one morning without any warning by an armored and battle ready man, in the middle of Krevan having just finished an experiment on Elena herself. This man in question was one “Armand Jodeau”, who had come into town and burst in to kill the necromancer rumored to be living in this home.

Caught unaware, Krevan was slain by the hand of this man, and those among his children who were his acolytes were slain as well as they attempted to kill the intruder too, with the young child Elena herself attempting to help somewhat after seeing this as a chance to get free and help her mother. Krevan’s lair under the house was set on fire as well, before Elena along with her mother and surviving “sane” siblings were pulled to the side by the man who had saved them.

Though they never saw his face, he advised each of them, including their mother, before turning to Elena herself and giving her a ruffle of her hair. The man spoke to her specifically about how, with such bravery and heart at her age, she might make a fitting knight in the future, and after telling her briefly about an order of knights that he recommended she join one day (using his name scrawled onto some paper as a reference) he set off without a word as abruptly as he had arrived.

And so Elena and her family left the town, having been now seen as a plague upon them after the truth about their father was found out after the knight’s intrusion. Though a cruel thing to undergo, it seemed for the best as her mother and surviving siblings made their way to find a brother of her father, a man whom her mother had met once prior to Krevan settling down. This man, Neman Ravenwood of Goldhouse, was an accomplished knight himself, owning some land and a grand home, and nearly having the status to marry into a noble family from his deeds. Upon seeing his brother’s broken family, he took pity upon them, and right away took them into his household among his own family to be treated as such. Family. It was here that Elena found solace from the past, though her father’s last experiment was bonded to her forever as a part of her, being like unto a curse that might never be shed and that would be an eternal reminder of her family’s darker side.

Even so, she begged her uncle to train her to be a knight, and seeing the light in her eyes whilst hoping she might use such a thing to better herself than her father was, her uncle eventually agreed to train her. Day in and day out she was put through training, for eight years she worked hard to become a knight, eventually being gifted armor and a sword by her uncle after her training with him was finished.

Afterwards, Elena bid her mother and family a hearty farewell, before setting off to find the group her family’s savior had mentioned all those years ago: The Iron Rose Knights. She had never forgotten that day of being saved, of the desire put into her to be a force for good in the world in some manner, and now deciding to act on her past promptings she was going to forge her path in the world. She would make her uncle proud, she would make her mother proud, and she would prove that all her effort in preparing for this moment was not wasted.

However, as a knight, she does have mixed feelings on some matters. For one thing, the group’s leader. Whilst admirable for her to be so young and close to Elena’s own age, at the same time she feels that an experienced hand might be better for the Iron Rose Knights than a 16 year old girl. She does not hate Fannily personally or as a person, but at the same time is by this point in time in silent agreement with the dissenting party who feel such a young girl should not be the leader of a group of knights based on some old tradition like being born under a full moon.