heres the font link: fontmeme.com/pale-waves-font The font is not necessary, you may use any font you choose.

A picture and a few details. Do you have any scars or tattoos, that sort of stuff. Alternatively, you may make a detailed description if you don't want/can't find a picture

What sound do I make to get your attention?

How old are you and are you a man or woman.

Are you an Elf? A Human? Or perhaps something in between.

Are you a Ranger? Alchemist? Cleric? This does not need to be an "official" class. Like you can be "Plague Doctor" instead of alchemist if that's what you feel would be better

How do you act, or how do others perceive you?

Where did you come from? Why are you here in Heston? What is your history?

What weapons armor and items do you have on you, whether magical or mundane

What sort of Special skills and physical abilities do you have? Are you good at picking locks? Do you have a wide array of knowledge? Can you throw things great distances?

What spells and spell like abilities do you possess? For spells, you need only to list a few prominent spells. As a cleric, it isn't that hard to guess you have a healing spell, or a wizard having some sort of fireball or telekinesis.

Stick anything else here you think we should know.

heres the font link: fontmeme.com/pale-waves-font The font is not necessary, you may use any font you choose.

A picture and a few details. Do you have any scars or tattoos, that sort of stuff. Alternatively, you may make a detailed description if you don't want/can't find a picture

What sound do I make to get your attention?

How old are you and are you a man or woman.

Are you an Elf? A Human? Or perhaps something in between.

Are you a Ranger? Alchemist? Cleric? This does not need to be an "official" class. Like you can be "Plague Doctor" instead of alchemist if that's what you feel would be better

How do you act, or how do others perceive you?

Where did you come from? Why are you here in Heston? What is your history?

What weapons armor and items do you have on you, whether magical or mundane

What sort of Special skills and physical abilities do you have? Are you good at picking locks? Do you have a wide array of knowledge? Can you throw things great distances?

What spells and spell like abilities do you possess? For spells, you need only to list a few prominent spells. As a cleric, it isn't that hard to guess you have a healing spell, or a wizard having some sort of fireball or telekinesis.

Stick anything else here you think we should know.

Still solidly built, he's none the less starting to show his age; a bit softer around the middle, grey hairs here and there, evey year a few more wrinkles. He hears other bemoan the fact that they're getting older, but to him they are things worth cherishing as it means he's still alive.

His body is a patchwork of tattoos and scars collected from a lifetime of fighting. Runes of protection, strength and health adorn his arms and torso, while ones of endurance, way-finding and peace cover his legs; behind his right ear, and now lost in his still thick, but greying, hair he has an intertwined rune of wisdom and knowledge. His hand, both backs and palms, have ones of power, strength and magic.
-
Of the numerous scars, there are only two are of note. The most noticeable, across his left eye, was as the result of a foolish boast as a young and hot-headed warrior; in his arrogance he thought he could beat any man and so challenged a Jarl for the right to rule, a rather foolish endeavour as it turned out.

His lower left leg has a sizable bite mark from a bear baiting match that went wrong; he was fortunate others acted fast enough to drive the animal off before it could do more serious harm.

Menddir Sohrersson

Male

54

Human

Iron Mage
^{The Northlander term for what most would call a 'Spellsword'}

The common view of Northlanders is that of a gruff and stoic type, with little use for the idle conversations and pleasantries found among the more southern peoples. While there is some truth to that, it is mostly because such things are usually reserved for friends and clansmen in the North. Menddir however has spent a large part of his life in the South, and has become much more open to others. A serious warrior for sure, but a welcoming friend to those around him.

Menddir was born in the fractious tribal area known simply as the Northlands, where Jarls rule over small holds, trade and make war with one another; some send raiding parties to the Southern Lands, while others offer their services as warriors to defend against such attacks.

Menddir was the second son of a minor noble, and grew up always intending to be his brother's strong right arm when he inherited thier father's title. Such plans where further strengthened, when as he began to mature, a magical affinity began to show itself.

Tested by the Hold's Skaal, his strength was found to be a bit lacking, but that did not worry Menddir; he'd already been training as a warrior since he was a child, now he would become one of the revered Iron Mages, men and women who wielded both blade and magic on the battlefield.
-
In his fifteenth year, his father's Housecarl and Skaal both deemed him fit to leave training and take up arms as an Iron Mage. The next two years were some of the greatest of his young life; raiding both Holds and southern towns at his brother's side, hunting beasts and other such deeds. However just short of his eighteenth year, he nearly undid it all; at the Jarl's request, he and a sizable war-party were sent to aid an allied Hold, and upon arriving Menddir in his youthful arrogance was dismayed to see the allied Jarl was an old man who seemed to do little but sit in his Great Hall and whisper to his attendants.

After the war-party assisted in driving off a heavy raid from another Hold, the reason they were sent in the first place, Menddir made his move. Barging into the Great Hall he declared the Jarl was too feeble to rule and that the Hold deserved a strong leader, an Iron Mage leader. While his war-party's presence gave the impression that he was willing to make a go of it, few of the men seemed overly enthusiastic (he'd neglected to tell any of them his poorly thought out plan).

Marching to the Jarl, he issued a challenge by combat for the right to rule, stating he'd give the old man a 'chance' by with holding his magic. The Jarl nodded, and the Hall was made ready for the duel. Once all was set the duel began...and then it ended; in his arrogance, Menddir rushed in thinking to overwhelm the old Jarl, only to find himself on the ground with the left side of his face feeling like it was on fire, and a bloody sword point to his nose.

Seeing Menddir's stupidity and arrogance for what it was, the Jarl didn't claim his life, though it was his right, instead ordering Menddir's war-party to gather up their half-blinded 'leader' and depart at once. Upon returning to his own hold, his Jarl was enraged, but not without mercy. He was allowed to remain in the Hold for as long as it took for his wound to be declared healed, though he would have few rights and no authority. Once that time was passed, he was escorted from the Hold to never return under pain of death. After the Jarl's initial pronouncement neither his father nor brother spoke to or of him, nor came to see him while he remained. His mother still came to see him, though she seldom spoke, but that was more because she helped tend his wound. When he was escorted from the Hold none of his family were there.
--
From there he set off South to try and make his way in the world, and to keep his belly full; while he was angry at the time, he's now made peace with what was done and considers it the right action. What he did should have started a war between his Hold and the other, but wiser heads prevailed, and he still had his life.
--
Menddir found himself in Heston not for the first time, having just finished a contract escorting one of the city's wealthier merchants around a few of his holdings outside of the city's walls.

Quilted gambeson and lamellar armour
Iron helmet and chain-mail
Splinted greaves and vambraces
^{His left vambrace is engraved with a runic sigil of defence and protection allowing him to focus a ward into a shield that will stop most physical and magical attacks for a time.}
Axe
Seax

Skills

Single-Handed Combat
Cook
Tailor
Singer

Abilities

Mage
Cold Resistant
Long Endurance

Major Spells

Firebolt
^{Medium range ball of fire. Explodes on contact}
Flames
^{Short range jet of fire}
Frost
^{Short range blast of intense cold}
Lightning
^{Medium range bolt of lightening. Can arc between some targets.}

Minor Spells

Defensive Ward
^{Focused through left vambrace. Creates a three foot diameter 'shield' for protection.}
Bind Wound
^{Causes wounds to heal at a phenomenal rate.}

He has at least three sons and two daughters, that he knows of, but he's never met any of them.

A set of tired and piercing eyes framed by masculine features, Irvine would be considered a reasonably attractive man if he kept his mouth shut and put effort into his appearance besides the bare minimum hygiene required for work. His hair is dramatically slicked back to be out of the way and formal.

Irvine Wellington

29 / M

Human

Medic

The Saltaire district and the land around it have yet to make any large strides in the refinement of health and medicine, and many practitioners have been forced to accept brutish methods for what they are and hope for the best. Except for Irvine. One of the best medics in his town, Irvine isn’t just satisfied with his work, but downright gleeful about it at times. To Irvine, nothing beats putting people back together the good old fashioned way. He’s certainly talented in healing through magical means, but prefers to fall back on it as a last resort. Why mess with strange powers when bone saws and musty tonics are so readily available?

Irvine is an extroverted and curious man who struggles to socialize appropriately, often oversharing or overstepping boundaries. He doesn’t find anything about the human body disgusting and is fascinated by it to the point where it concerns others. He is friendly and eccentric, talking for the sake of talking.

Irvine grew up comfortably with two busy parents and an abundance of unsupervised leisure. His mom was a butcher and his dad put things together as a carpenter, and before long the fascination of both of their worlds coagulated into an intense appreciation for surgery. Despite murmurs of his satisfaction having roots in the darker pleasures of life, Irvine remains adamant in insisting that he just enjoys repairing what's broken. Irvine's claims are honest, and much like a tailor enjoys the craftsmanship of sewing swaths of cloth together to form a finished piece, he enjoys stitching skin and sinew to assist his patients.

He is no stranger to the world of adventuring having been one himself in his younger years, albeit as a cleric rather than anything more heroic in nature. Some of the older adventurers in town are still able to recall their encounters with Irvine and his reluctance to rely on magic despite its benefits. This former job and the frequent quarrels that it caused left a bitter taste in his mouth, leading him to live a more independent and stationary lifestyle as a local medic. Through a combination of hard work and incredible passion he has grown into a definite professional, although there might be a sense of hesitation in asking for his assistance.

In his youth Irvine had brief stints of working as a cleric for hire with mixed results. A set of drab robes the color of dying straw are still in his possession. They are quite resistant to magic and allow him to cast spells more effectively, at the cost of offering no protection against physical attacks. A personal notebook with shorthand scrawls indecipherable to anyone but himself is also in his possession, intended to assist him in magical endeavors in case he forgets a word here or there. This is backed by a steel rod the size of an arm used as a magical staff.

He unsurprisingly carries basic medical supplies with him, his favorite bone saw included.

Irvine has carved out a niche for himself with the vast amount of knowledge he has amassed over the inner workings of the human body throughout the years, including the magical and non-magical ways to mend it. He has a dextrous pair of hands and a very high pain tolerance, as well as the ability to sneak around undetected. Like many talented medics, the occasional grave robbery for the sake of education is sometimes needed to develop his craft.

Irvine is able to magically heal wounds, but prefers to stitch them up or repair them as much as possible beforehand through traditional methods to conserve his energy. His healing spell is his primary and strongest spell. He is also capable of casting a minor spell that muffles noise, but prefers to keep it to himself to not raise questions.

N/A

Name: Eitne Gunn
She's young and some would say she's attractive in her own ways. Life has been though but she's shown she could be even tougher. She has been a prostitute, a gambler and sometimes a thief. A girl has to eat after all and she likes good meals. She's been in prison a couple of times and she has also been whippe. Once a prince granted her a pardon when she was about to be hanged by her neck

29 years old, woman

Human

Thief

I'm a bit of a temptress when there's need of it, I'm ready to take whatever I might see as fit to my needs

I came from an island not so far away, it's called Albus realm. because I needed to escape and my savings weren't enough to take me farther, they were going to hang me back in the island. I was 9 when I was abandoned in the streets and I had to learn to fend for myself, luckily, a band of young boys took me in and I was accepted by their master. That's how I learned to borrow others' stuff, because I borrow stuff, I don't steal. The boys that took me in were just like me, poor boys trying to survive in the streets but we used to work for someone else higher than us, I don't know but I guess they were some sort of a secret organization. The master, a Oedipus Brandon, was with an international gang.I once heard a horrible guy that came to visit the master mention some Quickfoot or Fastfoot gang.

I's sent to prison when I's 16 and got out the next year. I got back to prison when I's 19 and that time I almost killed a man, They whipped me for that. Prince Creon once spared my life, it was like this: I's 23 and I had killed an old woman during a break in, something went wrong that time and I's caught and sentenced to die but good prince Creon granted me a pardon, he almost came to me and took that noose off my neck. Prince Creon was killed by his elder brother, now the ruler, like two years ago and that's why I escaped from Albus. I've killed two men not so long ago and I would have adorned a tree if I stayed there. I have been lying low because the new ruler won't be as lenient as Prince Creon

I wear no armor, I'm clad in dark blue wool jacket and dark blue pants with a white blouse. My weapons are at hand whenever I might need them unless I'm on sea, I throw stones at my enemies if need be. I carry a knife just in case

I'm good at pelting on others, yes I have quite a strong arm and I'm good at throwing stuff and besides the strong arm I'm top when it comes to aiming. I'm swift and subtle when it comes to borrowing the stuff I need. The older guys with the band that took me in taught me to prepare some small bombs that will explode on contact. These are just harmless smoke grenades to make noise so we give other thieves time to escape, they won't do anything against a fully armored guy but in my hands and against lighter armors or uncovered heads...One of the two guys I've killed as of recently lost his two eyes and bled to death in the middle of the street thanks to a "harmless" smoke bomb a girl threw at him. Yes I pick locks and take purses and wallets for a living but the master thaught me well and I can hold my own in a fight

magic is for rich people and I'm poor, I can hardly speak properly and I can't read shit so how's you thinking I know magic?

I'm so desperate I'll work for money