Ancient History: The beginnings of humanity at the dawn of existence was in a primordial kingdom under direct guidance of God. A civilization known as Celesea. God loves his creations and so ensured the Heavenly Kingdom had a wealthy surplus of food and resources to sustain itself. As a consequence humanity began to take its prosperity for granted, and rapidly overpopulates the continent to the point it became unsustainable -- even with God’s help. God takes the food away to encourage humanity to learn to adapt and become self-reliant.
Having lost the favor of its creator, the Heavenly Kingdom is determined to survive by whatever means necessary. The Celeseans were soon compelled to spread out across the world to establish colonies as to sustain its massive population. For resources, food and also slaves to sacrifice to God in a bid to win back his favor.
As a consequence the Heavenly Kingdom of Celesea transforms into a merciless maritime Empire with no equal, tyrannizing all of creation.

To stop the power of Celesea from oppressing the world, God understood he had to destroy the Empire, that creation could be freed of its yoke. …He had to destroy what he created, and this was the first big blow to his psyche. He unleashed unto Celesea plagues and calamities. Culminating in the spawning of a vicious Race of Locust that attacked the Heavenly Kingdom’s home continent, and devoured every last bit of green, carrying desolation, triggering massive famines across the world and engulfing the Empire in war for survival of apocalyptic proportions. The Empire went down a brutal and grisly end. This wasn't as God willed it, and he was overcome with regret and pity for the humans of Celesea. To stop the Locust Race from wiping out all humanity, God smote the continent in half. The Locust Race was isolated in the East on the ruins of the Empire, and the surviving humans on the west. The two broken landmasses were separated by a wide ocean of God's tears. 'The sea of tears'.

This last event proved to be one divine screw-up too many, and God lost faith in his own ability to salvage creation. He figured it would be better for the world if he were to withdraw altogether, and avoid another cataclysmic screw-up. From four fragments of his own essence he sent down the Four Champions to the western continent of Visandza, to lead and protect the Tribes of humanity in his stead. The Champions and the Tribes they championed drove the Divine Locust out of Visandza, and an era of relative peace fell on the western continent. The reign of God was over, the continent was divided by four Barbarian Kingdoms and the Locust were confined to the east, separated by a great sea.

As each Champion lorded over their respective kingdoms as the Four High Kings of Visandza, they established dynasties and spawned various heirs and offspring. More and more Splinters of god were ripped from his essence to became the Royal families of Visandza. And by time God lost so much of himself by relinquishing those splinters that he became powerless, depressed, a ruin of his former self; stopping him from acting in the world altogether. Visandza slowly sank into a dark age. Without the flame of God a growing chill is taking hold of the world, a climate change against which there is little hope of divine intervention. Triggering southwards migration, triggering famine, triggering war. What follows is that the Royal families inevitably turned on each other. Now Visandza is again torn by war at the hands of one expansionist and belligerent barbarian tribe advancing south and east; the glory-seeking Chlotars. The goal of their new King, Cauroman, himself a part of God, is to revive the world to the state of antiquity by restoring power to God. The Chlotars seek to bring about the submission of the other tribes through fire and sword, and sacrifice all other Splinter Dynasties to God in order to quell his dark depression. In the Chlotar pursuit of Empire, hopefully history will not repeat itself.

The Tribes are obsessed with bringing honour, fame and glory to their people through heroic deeds. Years come and pass but bravery will last.

Let's keep it simple!

Name:

Appearance:

Kingdom Allegiance:

Tribe: (Unless Celesean. There are five known tribes; Chlotars, Lamperts, Viigocs, Eodaens, Radbouds.)

Background: Include at least where your character came from and what his profession is, and how this came to be.

I encourage you to make more than 1 character. My suggestion is make 1 main character and one or two secondary characters as the first character’s shield or sword-bearer. What is essentially a Dark Age squire.
If your character is a traveler or a warrior, they should never be alone and are in the company of others.

To start with; every Godsplinter has a passive supernatural influence on the people around them, who can innately sense their Kingliness thereby. What powers a Godsplinter has is often unique to that person, and depends on the dynasty they are born into. Each of the Four Dynasties has a different area of supernatural influence on their surroundings.
Another thing to understand; each Godsplinter and King has a degree of Plot Armor. Plot armor is something that is actually in-universe acknowledged. It’s called the ‘Providence of God’. A God Splinter is a fragment of God, and thereby protected from doom.

Blessings: A King can transfer this Providence onwards to some of his favored subjects through a blessing.
Being blessed means that they are mostly safe from stray arrows and would-be-mortal injuries, or birds randomly pooping on their heads. A King can only bless a Subject through some form of ritual requiring them to be in his direct presence.
Curses: On the other hand, a king can also curse a subject when they displease him, which spells doom for them. Not only will they suddenly find themselves constantly being pooped on by birds and tripping over random pebbles, but they are also more inclined to meet a sudden and violent end. This is why it is important to stay in a King’s good graces.

Other princelings besides the King, and his Blessed subjects, also have these benefits, though for them it is considerably weaker -- more watered down. Only the Godsplinter that actually occupies the station of King is acknowledged by God to a greater portion of his power to act on his behalf.

To Kill a King: Due to the Providence of God, a King cannot be killed by a regular mortal. And only sometimes – if God wills it -- by a Blessed Mortal or a Godsplinter. This is the reason why the Kings of Visandza have a tradition and history of challenging each other to single combat, as King Cauroman does. Because only a King can slay another King.
This adds to the reason why subjects must learn to tolerate their Kings, for the Kingdom hinges on his protective blessing in this age of where God is no more -- and their wrath is best not incurred.

When a King or Godsplinter dies, that Splinter’s powers returns to God.

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Examples of powers by the Kings in this story
Cauroman fills his court with confidence and inspires them to a higher set of ideals. When he leads an army onto the field of battle, that army is instilled with courage and heroism, not afraid to die and determined to victory.

Dalgiserius fills his court with dread, which is from the surface a bad thing, but has also numbed their senses. Now his Gastalds are truly fearless and psychopathic, unafraid of death or God – for no dread in this world is more potent than that of their King. When Dalgiserius leads an army into battle, the enemy army may rout at the mere sight of the Lampert King.

Orso fills his court with an intoxicating merriment, dulling their senses. This isn’t a very good thing in and by itself, particularly in times as desperate as now. However, this power is essential in keeping the untamable beast that is Tautom’s populace from turning to total lawlessness and anarchy. If Orso were to lead an army into battle -- which will surely never happen – both armies could soon lose the spirit to fight and desert the field of battle.

Badastan fills his court with trust in their King. While in his presence, they will believe anything he says. They may even worship him for a God. He can tell them things most insane and from out this world, and convince them with all their heart and mind that Squirrels are in fact holy animals to be worshipped. Is that a good thing? For Badastan it surely is.
On the battlefield, the mere sight of King Badastan will give the enemy a certain craving to collect acorns. That’s all really.

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The determinator of a Godsplinter’s abilities depends on their dynasty. To get a rough idea of what aspect of God each dynasty represents:

Chlotar Royalty:
Faramundian – Sphere of Determination: Belligerence, Purpose, Ambition, Honor, Drive (downside; war, aggression, single-sightedness)
Lampert Royalty:
Alboinid – Sphere of Order: Wrath, Structure, Honesty, Chastisement, Discipline (downside; oppression, persecution)
Baltian Royalty:
Balting – Sphere of Benevolence: Mercy, Joy, Defiance, Freedom and Salvation (downside; corruption, dysfunction, decadence)
Eodaen Royalty:
Horsa – Sphere of Wisdom: Creativity, Charisma, Compromise, Caution, Alliance (downside; treachery, opportunism, Machiavellianism)

Name: Giselart. Also known as Giselart the Soothsayer, or, to his enemies, Giselart the Mad.

Appearance: In many things, Giselart takes the traits of the archetypal Lampert to their extreme conclusion. His hair and beard are long, dark and flowing, not to say wild; his frame is robustly built and vigorous, though somewhat short among his compatriots and slightly stooped with incipient age; his gaze burns with a wrathful light that strikes terror into the hearts of those that meet it. Although he dresses humbly, donning only the sombre raiment of a sage, from a distance his form can appear richly bejewelled due to an eccentric choice of adornment: upon his person Giselart wears numerous holy amulets and symbols of faith from the Amalian lands, all of them defaced and broken by his own hands. The most imposing of these trinkets is a large nondescript, weathered husk hanging from his neck, which he claims is the head of a Divine Locust, worn as a symbol of God's malice.

Kingdom Allegiance: Lampertei.

Tribe: Lampert, born and bred.

Background: Of where and when Giselart's life began no one can say much for certain, save that his origins were lowly and obscure, likely among peasants in the conquered countryside far south of Skadania. In his youth he was apprenticed to a volcaduc, one of those wise men who, among the godless Lamperts, fulfil that role of masters of lore and tradition that the clergy take on in more pious lands. From that teacher, he learned the legends and histories of his people, as well as smidgens of some practical sciences, such as how to speak with rhetorical cunning, read the stars and know the herbs that can cure fever or kill the body and the mind. Giselart proved an eager and curious student, and when, several years later, he was ordained a volcaduc himself, he began to travel Lampertei, seeking out other sages for their knowledge.

His intent was to collect all the tales of the Lampert tribe into one great chronicle; however, on his journey he had many adventures which marked the path of his life from then onward. He climbed mountains, traversed swamps and braved rivers; several times he fell severely ill, but always recovered. In the south, he joined various raids and campaigns against Udos, fought bravely and desecrated some shrines and temples, in which he took a fiendish joy. It was in those years that people first began to notice his immense hatred against God. Whether it came from the many stories of His evil and iniquity that he assembled, the perils he faced, a deep conviction of his own or something else entirely is unknown, but those who spoke with him of the questions of faith were often impressed with the virulence of his words and the abundance of his arguments, which were great even for a volcaduc.

Thus passed several more years of Giselart's life. The next great change came in the later years of King Cunincprand's reign, after a particularly unlucky expedition to the south. Angered by the failure, the wandering loremaster withdrew to a small, isolated town and began to preach to its people. He drew upon the wealth of knowledge he had accumulated, evoking great heroic deeds of ages past, and above all inflamed his listeners with fury against God and his vile minions on Visandza. His thunderous words fell on impressionable ears, and, when he rode out of the town, he was not alone, but followed by a cohort of coarse yet zealous men, enthralled by his speeches. He led his acolytes towards the lands of Udos, and on the way others joined them. Many were simple folk swept up by Giselart's blasphemous predication, but there were also among them experienced warriors from the remains of forces broken in past invasion. In the end, it was a sizeable, though shabby warband that crossed the border, and, while it was more owing more to blind luck than their skill, not only was it not entirely decimated, but even managed to bring back some plunder.

Upon their return, the surviving improvised raiders were overjoyed, and acclaimed their leader as gifted with a power that could breach the defences of God and men alike. Giselart, for his own part, grew convinced that it was his duty to bring war against God to all Visandza, and that for this end he had to go speak to the king himself. The band thus headed north, towards the capital, gathering more proselytes yet on its way. By that time, the supposed Locust head was already in Giselart's possession, and around that relic was built, almost casually, the warrior sect's identity. The assembly of rabble became the Farigai, the ones who brought the end and the extinction of God and his kin, and the divine instrument of destruction was perverted into the symbol of a scourge of His faithful. Members of the band carved stylised wooden effigies of the head and wore them on their persons or hung them to their saddles to signify their allegiance.

At length, the now greatly swollen force reached Skadania, and Giselart appeared before the king, his dire omens filling the halls of the capital. Although the fulminating loremaster and his followers were rather coldly received by the altogether moderate Cunincprand, who deemed them too undisciplined and rambuctious for his liking, they found greater favour with one of his younger sons, Dalgiserius. The prince's rougher character was more congenial to the band's rowdy, violent nature, and he took it among the forces under his command, with Giselart becoming his lieutenant and advisor. When, struck with suspicion at the deaths in his family, Dalgiserius began to investigate the source of the evil afflicting his bloodline, the Farigai were all too glad to become his hands and eyes, terrorizing the populace in their efforts to leave no stone
unturned.

The sacking of the Mountain Temple was an occasion of great celebration among the warband, which had long set their eyes on that glaring target in the very midst of Lampert lands, but had theretofore been held back from assailing it by royal protection. Giselart himself, by that time a Gastald of the new king, led his men through the rampage with club in hand. Those who were with him then say that his hoard of plundered symbols of devotion grew twice as heavy on that day alone. Yet he was also never far from Dalgiserius' ear. When no proof of the Vestals' involvement in the deaths was found, he proclaimed that this was all the more reason to be certain that God's own invisible hand was in this, and He had to be fought with all their forces.

Since then, that indomitable old man, volcaduc and warrior, prophet and Gastald, has not been idle. He was ever close with his unholy oaths as the king descended into his madness, and those who sought to limit his influence were suddenly struck with mysterious ailments. This gave rise to rumours that the man had some sinister power with which he could bewitch and curse whom he pleased. Yet it is much too late to openly act against him. The only rival Giselart fears at all is the king's own get, Dalgiserata. For all he hates her mother for being a foreign witch and herself for weakening the king's resolve, he does not dare work against her, either with curse or poison or through the daggers and strangling-cords of his devotees.

Nevertheless, the Soothsayer thinks little of even the princess, for he is certain his power is immeasurably greater than hers. At his command, the Farigai ride out across the land, terrorising the populace in their quest to root out "disloyalty to the king" - that is, sentiments towards God other than venomous hate. To this day, their vexations rage on unhindered in the shadow of their protector, who, in his prophetic guise, makes no secret of abetting Dalgiserius' obsession and working to plunge Lampertei and all the world into apocalyptic carnage.

Kingdom Allegiance: The Most Excellent Domain of the Despotate of Syrome, Subject of the Most Serene Nation of Men and Women of the Kingdom of Baltia.

Tribe: Viigoc, or actually, the most Viigoc of the Viigocs; Syroviigoc.

Appearance: Athalaric is an aged man, having reached a most notable 47 years old throughout his service at the right-hand side of Despote Belisar of Syrome. His age is most obvious in his white hair, this is simply due to the scars confusing the shape and form of potential wrinkles and other symbols of aging. The privilege of his station, and the power of which he holds is made manifest in his most extravagant of attire, dark blue robes covered by golden ornamentary armour which serve both practical and ceremonial significance. Beneath his extravagant revivalist robes and ceremonial attire, is a body riddled with scars, from both practice and battle alike, reaching even his left eye, permanently blinding it. However, he does not hide his eye from the world, instead bearing in its place a ceramic replacement adorned with beautifully painted craftsmanship in some of the most exotic colours available to the Syroviigocs. On his shoulder, placed upon his shoulder plate, is the Heraldry of his people, the Viigoc Warrior (the naked man made of iron, stretched out in majestic form), pressed upon a plate of exquisitely crafted origins, making up the manifest design of the Viigoc peoples' united coat of arms.

When battle makes its natural way into an intersecting path with that of Athalaric, he forsakes the casual robes and instead wears a coat of plates further reinforced by occasional pieces of scale armour and lamellar. It is covered in the engravings of ancient words of wisdom, having been passed down through religious rites since the coming of the Viigocs upon the Baltia. To protect his head, he wears a great helm of sorts, not unlike those of the typical cataphracti of the Baltian culture, but also wields a war-mask of plate, capable of being lowered or opened to better increase protection in times of need, and visibility in times of strategy and maneuvering. The mask, itself, is styled similarly to that of the Owl, bearing great resemblance. In addition, he places the typical ceremonial armour upon his protective uniform, to symbolize rank and station, making it easier for allies to understand from where their orders are coming from during times of chaotic conflict, although naturally the same also applies for the enemy.

Background: Born to the humble Syroviigoc village of Vidimir, situated in the distance of the much greater Syrome City, and it's expansive Viigoc Quarter, Athalaric was brought up as a common man. Whilst Viigocs, especially Syroviigocs, are often thought of as higher in the natural hierarchy of humanity, the lifestyle of which Athalaric initially inherited from his parents was a simple one. Brought up as an apprentice to his father's ways of smithing, Athalaric grew up rapidly into the ways of true men and women, adopting the ways of the world at a very rapid rate.

By the age of 11, Athalaric was already practicing the arts of blacksmithing in support to his father, allowing the two to supply the local guards singlehandedly, where otherwise several workshops would have to cooperate in order to fill the requirements of the guardsmen stationed. Athalaric was left wanting, however, as he felt his life waste away by the mere age of 15, having already mastered enough of the ways of smithing to sustain himself for what would seem as an indefinite period of time. He became bored, and fast, soon venturing, with the understanding of his parents, towards the great city of Syrome, where he made an initial living crafting lockpicks, shields, and other cheap matters of equipment for an increasing bag of coin.

His efforts were recognized, and under the authority of the Foederati captain, he was brought into the Syroviigoc quarter as an official smith of the professional Viigoc military under the helm of the Despot. After five years of effort, his station would advance even further, however in a most unusual of directions, after he participated in a tournament festival, letting out his primal urges and long-before restrained bestial prowess. He won the tournament, at the surprise of all Viigocs of the Quarter, and became a warrior-smith, a therefore unseen rank within the army.

On his first actual battle, a raid on nothing more than local highwaymen and their camp, Athalaric managed to use his own personally crafted axe to great effect, having been forced to forsake his shield in close quarters combat by an especially skilled combatant. Athalaric was able to bring the warrior to heel through careful planning and execution via timed jabs and fake slashes, followed up by confusing jabs to the enemy's torso. His efforts were recognized immediately by his commanding officer, claiming they were "exceptional even amongst the entirety of the guard", which soon lead to a direct promotion into the ranks of senior officers.

This promotion was, however, made in a promise of ability. That is to say, he'd have to show his prowess as an officer in order to remain as one. As such, he was put into task to train a new regiment of recruits for the expanding army, who were under orders of the Despot to expand their capabilities. The regiment were, needless to say, brought up exceptionally well, to the surprise of everyone involved. Athalaric had always had a simple way of speaking and behaving, and when the surprise arose amidst the senior-most ranks of the military, Athalaric was the only man who seemed indifferent with the results. He saw his accomplishments in training, and leading his regiment in battle, as a natural result. No different than birds of prey feeding on prey.

The Captain of the Foederati, Fridigern the Old, in rise of this incredible discovery, catapulted Athalarics career into new heights, placing him at the most generous position of Army Commander. Now being one of five individuals allowed the authority to govern entire armies in battle, with only eachother and the Foederati Captain to answer to, as well as the Despot, an entirely new life emerged for Athalaric.

The first test of his metal, his will, and his prowess as a commander of soldiers, as a commander of the Viigocs, came during the Second Pirate Invasion of Sonimossos, a city of average size, otherwise unimportant aside from its exceptionally excellent grapes, leading the city to become a center of local trade. As it was on the same mainland as that of Syrome, there were no need to assemble any ships to cut off the Pirates, and instead the army was assembled and marched on foot to the place of battle. Under the banner of Methos, a Pirate Lord of exceptional wealth and power amidst the Sea of Tears, he had organized a raiding party to sack the city and steal it of its wealth.

Athalaric would serve as acting commander of the army, with General Huml and Senior-General Rekitach acting advisor. Initially the campaign to destroy the pirate fleet proceeded well, with the army itself assembling itself rapidly, and through the period of travel, nurturing itself well, and keeping up a truly exceptional speed. Whilst partly due to the experience of the Advisors under his command, certain aspects of the routine were organized by Athalaric's own hand, such as modifying the rationing system and organizing the men and their orders during times of putting up camp. Things would soon change, however, when battle struck. When the city of Sonimossos came into view, the smoking city, bombarded by ship-mounted catapults and assaulted by pirates on its harbour, things would come to take a turn for the worse.

Athalaric's army entered the city via its gates, who were opened as they had arrived. A command station was established in the city center, and the troops were relayed into their positions under Athalaric's command, through the aid and careful council of his advisors. It all made sense, the positions of his archers and spearmen, the flanking positions of the renowned Cataphracts. On paper, it was a perfect defense, however, when the harbour finally fell, and the enemy landed en-masse, disaster struck.

With one fell swoop of the catapult, his advisors were smashed into pulps, adorning the stone path next to him. Athalaric had missed death by a mere meters lenght away. With his senior advisors and staff obliterated by the path of the catapults payload, Athalaric felt a surge of emotions that he otherwise had never before experienced, save for when participating in the gladiatorial games.

A feral instinct embodied him, as he felt both joy, anger, and savagery overwhelm him. His commands and orders became erratic, and reactionary, as opposed to the natural planned pattern it had moments before been. He ordered his cavalry to breach the enemy's main ranks making their way from the harbour, and whilst it was accomplished, the Cataphracts had not expected the ships to have already landed, and unloading their corsairs upon the docks. The Cataphracts were stuck, and ultimately perished entirely, as their heavy armour could not burden all the punishment that came at them from all directions. Whilst this happened, Athalaric had sent his infantry and archers forward to assault the ranks of the enemy, who had now mostly turned their backs to his forces at the docks.

The Viigoc infantrymen, supported by their cavalry, would face the corsair hoards in a skirmish that would ultimately last for several days, leaving both sides tired and bearing losses entirely unacceptable for the occation. Athalaric's emotional rage would not seize until he was apprehended by his own Guards, and sent to the headquarters in Syrome after the battle had ended. The result of the incursion and the subsuming chaos that had afflicted Athalaric and his army would leave half the city in entire disrepair.

Athalaric was entombed, as punishment for his service, deep below the Viigoc Quarter's citadel, within the catacombs, where he would be left to rot for years to come.

Left with naught but bread and water for years on end, Athalaric would come to soon learn to confront his inner self, and take control of it. He would converse with the guards and servants who would meet him every day to give him the barest of nutrients. In his chains, he would grow wise with the world, learning, understanding, and solving the most basic and the most complex of issues which he were presented via his dialogue with the guards and servants during his inprisonment.

He had thought himself abandoned for long, after all, how many eternities had he not been chained to a tomb burried deep below Syrome? However no, his feats had not forgotten, for they were not overshadowed by his faults. The Commanders of the Viigoc Guard, and the Foederati Captain had not been ignorant in their reports of the battle, and had seen the diamond covered by dirt that had presented itself during the battle.

Fridigern had decided, to the discord and approval of numerous of his military council, that Athalaric would be forgiven for his failures, and groomed into his successor. His reasoning was clear, no one would disagree that Athalaric, when in control of his own self, was a natural learner, and skilled at adapting knowledge, and adjusting factors on the battlefield. He was a natural organizer of men, and with his simple, yet effective pressence he inspired many officers in his ranks. Whilst no ideal warrior-leader, his officers resolved that disconnect with their own presence on the battlefield, and their leadership.

He was born to become a victor, and so they thought. However, the decision had not been their's to begin with. Athalaric had been imprisoned by Despot Justinius of Syrome for his atrocity in handling the pirate incursion. He was said to rot in the tombs of the Old Age. However, with the death of Justinius and the crowning of Belisar, circumstances changed.

Belisar would see Athalaric freed, and this debt would have to be repaid in full. Athalaric, a man of simple morals; ideas of light and darkness, and no distance inbetween, saw the act of Belisar as needing obvious redemption. Athalaric would grow older yet since being released and immediately entering under the mentorship of Fridigern himself.

Athalaric would since leave on many a battles, on sea and on land, ultimately becoming a master organizer, skilled strategist, and overall military genius. Due to his personal connection to Belisar, and the card that he serves in the Despot's hand, he naturally became the man's right-hand man, supplying to Belisar what he himself cannot; simplicity, realism, and productiveness.

With the passing of Fridigern the Old, at a most saddening time, Athalaric inherited the position as Foederati Captain and acquired all the titles of his forebearer. Under his command, the Viigoc Guard and the Viigoc people would become further unified in creed and purpose thanks to the charismatic Despot and the ruthless efficiency of their commander. Productivity would surge, and the rebuilding efforts of the great city of Syrome reached new highs.

He became Athalaric the Viigoc.

Kingdom Alliegance: Syrome, subject of Baltia.

Tribe: Syroviigoc.

Background: General Sigeric is a man who grew up during the time when Athalaric was imprisoned, and rose the ranks during the time of Athalaric's legend. There was no Syroviigoc who had not known of Athalaric, as his punishment and deeds had been made clear under Despot Justinius' rule. When ultimately the shift in who became the leader of the Foederati, Syrome's most prestigious military organization, the once dead legend rose again. Athalaric gained the power and the station, and in response the remaining Generals of the Foederati bowed their heads to him. However, he did not seem to respond to the change in authority as any man should, but simply viewed it as a natural result of the situation. Athalaric garnered the attention of the new generation just like he did the old, during his first rise in the ranks, and with his simple majesty, loyalty spewed forth from the crowd.

Most exceptional of these loyalties would be General Sigeric, who would become attached to Athalaric's personal advisory, along with General Eriulf and General Vandil. Athalaric's thoughts were simple, he needed leaders who had the qualities that he does not, and as such, he employed General Sigeric for his warmth of heart and energy. He employed General Eriulf for his knowledge of militia and guerrilla warfare. General Vandil came under the banner of Athalaric's personal advisory for his understanding of naval warfare and combined arms.

The Primo Foederati Custodes acts as the personal bodyguard to the Dignified First Foederati and Captain of His Excellency's Guard of the Viigocs when occupied in public and military matters. The only exceptions are during festivals and visits to the Despot's personal palace, where leniency is awarded. The bodyguard unit consists of an equal amount of men and women, numbering to a total of 52 guardsmen in the entire unit, often spread out during peace. More often than not, two custodians are at Athalaric's side at all times, seldom more in times of peace. During wartime, the entire unit follows Athalaric and his retinue in battle as a single unit.

The Custodians wear some of the heaviest armour available to the Viigocs, allowing for increased protection against incoming damage, and the relative resistance against missiles. In addition, on the battlefield they wield great lances with shield and sword, in addition to a two-handed bearded axe.

They ride, similarly to their commanders, upon Baltian Steeds of War, a rare enough breed of warhorse bred for its strenght and endurance. They are not fast, especially not when armoured, but they are durable and can endure much.

The fourth son of Doux Valaris, his father was a central figure of Baltia and the commander of its armies (at least, those left on the mainland) and as such, trained all of his sons in a very martial fashion. Theodonus was good, the best even, capable of defeating any man in single combat and having an intuitive knowledge of battle, moral and the likes. Even after two of his elders died first from a training accident and the second from suicide, he never thought he'd inherit anything for he was the son Valaris's second wife, who was also a whore.

Over a year ago, his father declared his intention to liberate Baltia from the Chlotars and while he was initially on board, Theodonus was appalled when he learned he'd have to be under the command of his elder brother, whom he despised, especially considering it was widely known Theodonus was the better warrior. After a heated argument, he left Tautom with some money and decided to go around the world a bit. He would eventually land in the court of Badastan and become a friend to the man before he was king accepting the squirrel god. He eventually got the news of the failure of his father's failure and death, along with that of his elder brother. He rushed back to Tautom to claim the head of his family's fortune but found one of his younger sibling had taken charge already. He challenged him to a wrestling match and easily took him into a hold, asking him to submit. When his brother tried instead to claw his eyes out, Theodonus had no choice but to snap his neck in self defense.

With that out of the way, he went on to proclaim his ambition, to do what his father had failed to do and liberate Baltia once and for all. For this however he had nothing, the remaining soldiers of the city were all firmly in control of the Guard to defend it. He thus decided to make one of his own, recruiting a core of his gymnasium going friends and promising wealth and glory to those who would join him. His army was that of amateurs but he surprisingly managed to do well instilling them with drill and a culture of strength. 'It is the duty of every person to see its own body at the peak of its strength while it is youthful' he says. When his fortune failed him, he supplemented his income and tried his troops simply by doing raids on the Chlotars, looting and enslaving all he could. In the end however, many nobles realized it was better to financially support him rather than let his army go without pay, he had become too dangerous.

Born in indentured servitude, this woman is proud to have climbed the social ladder to the highest sphere using her body and her cunning. Theodonus's father was always resentful about how shortly after giving birth to his son she was quick to go and join Orso's harem when he rose to the throne. She may not be the favorite of the king anymore, but she stays in his good grace by preparing and delivering to him 'Fresh Meat' for him to enjoy and in doing so, also secured the eyes and ears of the king for 98% of his time. She kept contact with his son and is widely known as one of his major political ally, maybe even the one who pulls the strings behind the curtain. If it is motherly love or just another way to stay on top, not even Theodonus knows.

One of the many sons of the king, he was born devoid of purpose other than enjoy the finer things in life, all paid for by his father... not that Orso cared about him. Would he even recognize him? It was Kalisto, always interested in courtly affairs, that suggested to him and other youth interested in a change of pace to join Theodonus's Gymnasium and train in the art of warfare. Few stuck around such a hard environment, none excelled at it more than Nonnonso. Maybe it was at Kalisto's request but Theodonus took a great interest in him and it is fair to say he is now the closest thing to a paternal figure in Nonnonso's life. Certainly, Theodonus is too much of a brute to just fake being his friend 24/7 and Nonnonso knows that.

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Name: Antonia of the Alboinid Dynasty

Appearance: Antonia doesn't look much like a traditional Lampertei woman and with good reason; she takes after her mother, who hailed from the city of Udos. Still, she does her best to not remind her adoptive father of this heritage and dresses her long, lean limbs in boxy tunics and only dawns her hauberk mail when she's traveling. She avoids flowing robes and anything white like the plauge, lest she provoke his fury.

The king's young ward has recently turned nineteen and the years of sleep deprivation have left their mark, causing deep, dark circles to blossom under each of her eyes. Her face and body are littered with scores of freckles and she keeps her red hair tucked away in a cap or hood when in her father's presence, but otherwise lets it down.

Kingdom Allegiance: Lampertei

Tribe: Lampert

Background: Dalgiserius is the only thing close to a father Antonia has ever known and in her humble opinion, he's shit at it.

Antonia was brought to Skadania before her first year had waned and grew up in the cold, bleak walls of Skadan Castle as a ward of the king. The little girl quickly learned to keep her mouth shut and stay out of sight to avoid the king's oppressive fury, but when his mood was particularly foul it seemed as if he would seek her out with the express purpose of punishing her. It never mattered if she actually misbehaved or spoke out of turn, Dalgiserius would always find a reason to discipline her. When the God-damning tower was built during her twelfth year, King Dalgiserius moved her to the room closest to it so she would be forced to lie awake at night and listen to him curse the heavens into the early hours of the morning.

It's during one of these shouting matches that she learned the truth about her adopted father's anger towards her. It seemed that Antonia was the bastard daughter of Queen Nanperga, the king's own lady wife and a lover she had taken to spite him.
While this gave her a new found sympathy for Dalgiserius, it wasn't an issue Antonia could fix and their relationship continued to deteriorate as the seasons passed. She also began to grow indifferent towards her half sister, Princess Dalgiserata, who defended the king's actions and never acknowledged the abuse he inflicted on Antonia.

At this point the lack of sleep from listening to Dalgiserius' tyraids had begun to take a serious toll on the young girl. Antonia was just about ready to set the whole castle on fire in the pursuit of getting some shut eye when her father named her one of his Gastalds. It didn't make any sense, the girl was barely sixteen at the time and while decent with a bow, she was no seasoned war chieftain. Still she jumped at the chance to leave the castle on impossible witch hunts and no matter how ridiculous or unachievable the goal may have seem, Antonia never shied away from any of King Dalgiserius's assignments.

Because honestly at this point all Antonia wanted was a full nights rest.