Name: Karlus Marsh

Titles: N/A

Aliases: Karl the Flame, The Half-Mage, The Half-Mad, The Half-Mute.

Age: 29

Race/Ethnicty: Human

Continent of Origin: Carthus

Gender: Male

Class/Subclass: Mage, Ruination


Strength: 10
Dexterity: 16
Constitution: 8
Intelligence: 20
Wisdom: 9
Charisma: 12


Height: Five feet and seven inches.

Weight: Seven stone and nine pounds.

Appearance Description: Karlus the Half-Mage is a small, thin, waif-like man. He has not seen his thirtieth year, but bears many of the hallmarks of a much older man. His pale face seems unduly worn, his swept back hair is brittle and prematurely white. Deep bags hang beneath his strangely luminous green eyes and this, along with his general air of weariness, confirms that Karlus sleeps little each night. The features upon this gaunt and drawn face are fine and effeminate, and could be considered handsome in another life. Handsome that is were it not for a hideous scar that mars the right side of his face.

Day To Day Attire: He dresses in faded black leathers beneath which the clink of mail can be heard, covered by a grey hooded great cloak clasped with a silver ring pin. From Karlus's sword belt hangs more silver, a silver-hilted short sword, its pommel set with a green cats eye stone. It seems to glow unnaturally in darkness. His left arm is bound and bandaged beneath his cloak.

Strengths:

• Knowledgeable in many academic subjects, particularly those related to the arcane.
• Relatively powerful mage.
• Skilled in countering other magical users.

Weaknesses:

• Emotionally unstable and subject to periods of mania and depression.
• Suffers from a sickly constitution and often physically unwell.
• Mistrustful of others.

Eurdite * Compassionate * Unstable * Secretive * Ruthless

Sexuality: Unknown

Relationship Status: Single

Personality: Karlus is a person who often comes across cold and reserved when first met, not in a cruel or uncaring way, but as if separated from all others around him by an immense unseen chasm. Distant is probably the lasting impression that he leaves on acquaintances. He has a habit of gazing off into the middle distance, almost as if he’s looking right though someone to something beyond. Normally he’s quiet, in particular about himself and his history, and when pressed upon a subject he does not want to discuss will be highly evasive. Despite this its easy to see that he someone of considerable learning and intelligence by the cerebral nature of his conversation. If Karlus were to smile it would normally be a sad one, his laughs are harsh and a little unhinged. He sleeps little, haunted by nightmares that make him wake in fits of terrible screams.

There is some hint madness in him as well, one that manifests in periods of energetic mania followed by deep and dark depressions. During his mania he will often rant and rave on the nature and theory of magic to anyone who will listen to him, and is prolific in the creation of treatise, papers, plans and schemes. During his inward periods he becomes even more uncommunicative, scarcely eating or sleeping, burying himself in his books and maintaining absolute solitude.

Habits:

• Scratching at the scar on the side of his face or at his bandaged arm.
• Plays with fire when bored, passing a single flame from finger tip to finger tip.
• Staring out into the middle distance for extended periods of time.
• When nervous paces and moves incessantly.
• Fitful sleeper.

Hobbies:

• Amateur antiquarian/historian.
• Calligraphy

Fears:

• Tightly enclosed spaces or being restrained.
• His mentor.
• Muting.

Likes:

• Learning new things.
• Shadows/night time.
• Children and animals.
• Personal Space.
• Hot baths.
• Good wine.

Dislikes:

• Being touched.
• Sleeping.
• College trained mages.
• Vulnerability.
• Telling the truth.
• The muted.

• Arcana: The knowledge of all things related to magic and its practice.
• History: The knowledge of the past ages.
• Perception: The ability to keep watch and notice things.
• Short-blade: The use of daggers and short swords.
• Multi-lingual: Languages include Common, Old Speak, Elven and Old Elven.
• Keen memory: The ability to recall details and information with ease.

Ruination focus with an emphasis on fire magic and rending.

Spell list:

• Produce Flame - a gout of flame created in the palm, can be thrown offensively.
• Burning Hands - a large burst of flame in a cone like projection.
• Hold Person - using rending magic to prevent a person from moving.
• Telekinesis - using rending magic to move, manipulate and levitate small objects.

Possessions Generally On Person:

• Dagger: A short utilitarian knife.
• Waterskin: A flask for containing water or another liquid.
• Coin-purse: A pouch containing money and valuables.
• Good Boots: A pair of unusually nice and expensive boots.
• Journal: A leather bound journal tucked into a pocket of Karlus's cloak.
• A pocket mirror: To check and maintain appearance.

Armor:

• Chain-shirt: A shirt of chain mail.
• Leather Jerkin: A black leather sleeveless jacket.

Pack Contents:

• Bedroll: A bedroll for sleeping rough.
• Walking stave: A staff for walking extended distances.
• Books and scrolls: Mostly relating to arcane matters
• Ink, paper, quill: Used for writing
• Rations: Food for one or two days.
• Ritual Components: Chalk, incense, crow feathers etc.
• Fresh Bandages: For changing the covering on his left arm.

Magical Items:

• Green Flame Blade: The silver hilted short sword at Karlus's hip. The blade burns with green fire when activated.
• Alchemical Potion: A thick creamy white potion in a small glass vial.
• Alchemical Potion: A clear potion with a slight yellow tint in a small glass vial.

History: A mage-blade known as Karl the Flame arrived in Carthus from the lands of Penault around five years ago. He said he was trained in the arts of ruination by the Elves of that land. He quickly found employment as a bodyguard and adviser to various small time crime bosses and underworld figures who valued the protection against magical threats a pet mage provides. There are many inconsistencies in the story he presents as his past, why would a man from Penault speak in with an Astorian accent? Why would an elf trained mage leave to work in the much more oppressive environs of Carthus?

But stranger still are whispers that the Karl conceals that brands of the muted... yet still somehow practices magic. And then there are the other whispers, those of the college mages that disappear or are found dead in gutters wherever the Karl the Flame goes.

Name: Sigemund Tekkeson
Titles: ”Brith Eater”, “Huscarl to Jarl Tekke Ahkiyinni, Seafarer”
Aliases: ”Hama”, “Wudga Wave Wraith”
Age: 38
Race/Ethnicty: Crysterian Human, Brith Slave-Stock/Atka Mutt
Continent of Origin: Crysteria
Gender: Male
Class/Subclass: Warrior | Champion

Sigemund is a strong seafarer strapped with muscle and knowledge. Damage done to him in the battle that dubbed him Brith Eater, as well as his own size, have left him a bit slower than average.

Strength: 17
Dexterity: 9
Constitution: 12
Intelligence: 13
Wisdom: 14
Charisma: 10


Height: 5 foot 11 inches
Weight: 190-220 pounds, varies depending on diet.
Appearance Description: A traditionalist, he has the top of his hair shaved and the sides braided. He keeps bangs that hang over his forehead. His beard is thick and unkempt. His brown eyes give him a look somewhat akin to a dog when factored into the whole appearance. His body is well muscled, fitting for a warrior of his calibre, and his thighs and calves are particularly glorious. The athleticism of his body is the sole reason he was able to smash open the ribcage of the brith whose heart he ate to gain the name Brith Eater. Old battle scars from brith claws and shallow blade wounds are scattered across his body. Finally, he is a very hairy man. What does not have scar tissue has thick dark hair.
Day To Day Attire: He has no distinction between his battle gear and his casual wear. His life is mobile and such mobility demands this sacrifice. He wears several gold and bone charms over a thick brith skin cloak, which is itself over a patterned fabric. The fur and the fabric cloak are both bound together by a golden clasp. A red and white tunic is the lowest layer in his ensemble. Over his torso he wears a boiled leather piece worn once by his father. His trousers are rather simple, with leather boots cobbled gently together. Leather straps maintain the trousers and ensure a good fit.
Strengths:

• Guerilla warfare is one of his personal passions, as it was what allowed him and his mother and himself to escape into the Trident territories. He has extended these skills to the shortsword and unarmed combat.
• Much of his life has been dedicated to mastering seafaring, and he has developed quite a bit of skill with it.
• Survival work and the related preparedness are keys to survival in his line of work, so he has learned the tools necessary to make the most of the Crysterian environment.

Weaknesses:

• His tribe was isolated and kept no witches or mages, and so he has developed an unfamiliarity with magic and the magical that makes him greatly distrustful of it and its users.
• Sigemund never quite grew into his size, and is rather clumsy. He has a bad habit of slamming doors, as well, due to just generally miscalculating his own abilities.
• While his combat style is effective, it is inflexible and his toolset is limited.

Aggressive * Loyal* Power Hungry* Well-Spoken

Sexuality: Straight
Relationship Status: Married, Father
Personality:
Sigemund does not easily fall in love, and he rarely develops positive thoughts of others. This makes it easier for him to grow hateful, and he often becomes envious of others. Despite all of this, he is very happy and optimistic. This optimism masks his propensity to feel sad and dejected, and to slip into an intense melancholy. He is slow to anger, and has a calm demeanor overall. He has a few feelings of lust whatsoever. While he is calm overall, he does not handle stress well and can crack under pressure. He has a significant greedy streak, and occasionally overindulges. He likes a good brawl and is rather stubborn as a whole.

He cuts almost any corners possible when working on a project, regardless of the consequences, rather than wasting effort or resources. He prefers that everyone live as harmoniously as possible, and with this is a friendly individual. He is quite polite, but when meeting new people could be considered rude. He tends to ask others for council with difficult decisions, though is generally quite confident in his abilities. He is incredibly brave in the face of looming danger. Despite his appreciation of politeness, he could not care less about his appearance or other personal vanities.

His ambition is relentless, and he feels a strong need to reciprocate any favor done for him. This often tangles him in small webs of alliances with the tribes and individuals around him. He has little interest in joking around, and often hangs onto grievances with others. He is very humble despite this. He often acts with compassion, and is an optimist. He generally acts with a narrow focus on the task at hand, and is rarely moved by his curiosity. He rarely changes his mind about things, and holds onto old ideas tightly. This has lead to him being made deeply uncomfortable around those that appear unusual or live differently from him.

He tends to form only tenuous emotional bonds with others, but is often swayed by emotional appeals. He always finds helping others emotionally rewarding, and has a strong sense of duty. He enjoys the company of others, and has overbearing tendencies.
Habits:

• He chews his nails, often to the point of bleeding or wounding himself.
• He hates his boots being dirty, and repeatedly kicks the dirt off of them even when none is there.
• He chews dried meats as a means of distracting himself when he’s sailing.

Hobbies: When he isn’t practicing his sword work, guarding his father or brothers, helping with the clan, or manning the helm of one of their ships, he takes to bone carving. He makes little bone figurines of historical figures and forgotten beasts that are often quite charming.
Fears:

• Serpents, snakes, and reptiles as a whole.
• Small spaces; Excludes ship interiors due to exposure.
• Tieflings. His father was blinded by a Tiefling mercenary when Sigemund was young, and the image of the horned man still haunts him.

Likes:

• Sword-play, and combat sports as a whole.
• The smell of the ocean, and the sound of waves.
• Dwarves, for their strength of character and stoutness.
• Brith pelts, for their warmth.
• Half-breeds, for their mixed blood. He appreciates the advantages of a dirty lineage.
• Oak, for its sturdiness.

Dislikes:

• Brith, for their cruelty.
• Mages, for their strange ways.
• Mushrooms, for their lack of flavor.
• Children, for their imaginations.
• Raw meats.
• Being barefoot.

A listing of skills, such as horseback riding, and natural abilities, such as night vision.

• Sailing: He knows the ins and outs of sailing, and is capable at sea. He has grown familiar with working the various places on the ship, and directing ships in travel.
• Ransacking: Scavenging and harvesting the goods of others has become a particularly important skill in his life. He has developed a firm understanding of the best means to efficiently harvest the goods of others.
• Short Swordplay: The use of a shortsword has made him more fatal against brith, as he uses the short range and utility of the weapon to target their important organs.
• Navigation: Travelling light means learning to read the sky to locate his position relative to home. He uses his hand to make mostly accurate locational information, though he sometimes yields only approximate information.
• Tracking: With a focus on brith, Sigemund has tracked many. It is imperative to him that he disappears like a shadow after a raid, and that means ensuring no survivors.
• Community Management: While his father is the head of the clan, he has learned the methods of distributing effort and keeping the people working together. He knows some Brithean, not much, as a result of managing a community on Crysteria.

Possessions Generally On Person: Clothing, coin purse, money, etc

• Leather Satchel: Contains five ten-gram gold coins with no printed faces or identifiers. Contains thirty ten-gram silver coins, also with no printed faces.
• Feather Charm: Five Egu feathers strung into one of his hair braids. They hang the side of his face.

Weapons: Personal weapons, no magically enhanced items

• Tyrfing: A sharp, short dagger. It is supposedly cursed, the claim being that a man dies when it is drawn. This is old folklore, and untrue.

Armor: Base armor only, no magically enhanced items

• Boiled Leather Armor: A chest piece with steel buckles and straps, constructed of boiled leather. Boiled leather plates hang over the wearer’s thighs, as well.

Pack Contents: What do you carry in you pack when traveling

• Flint & Striker: Used to spark flames.
• Wool Blanket: A blanket for when it’s needed. It is bundled tightly in his bag.
• Ax-Head: Without a haft it isn’t much use, but it can be used to actively create the haft necessary to make it useful.

Magical Items:

• Hrunting: An heirloom shortsword, with a simple round pommel and a curved guard. Its name is engraved on its blade. Sigemund’s ancestor was the witch that enchanted it. The blade vibrates and screams when it has drawn blood.

History:
Born 38 years ago as a Springtide gift to his mother. The very same gift that would free her from slavery. Her time under the service of a brith slave-keeper had been briefly interrupted nine months prior when she had been briefly bedded by a tribal visiting from the Trident region. The whole affair was conducted secretly, and was of a highly illicit nature.

The man that she bedded was a Human tribe leader, who had claimed the jarldom of his people five years prior. Their brief encounter yielded him a bastard son. When he returned to pay tribute the next year he found the young toddler and the woman. It was at that point that he became the first Wudga Wave Wraith. The small settlement of brith was eradicated in the night. Family members knew of the human tribe that would be paying tribute that week to that settlement, and so the tribe was soon forced to flee by boat, towards the Frostfoot Marches. They resorted to piracy, striking against the brith and leaving bloodshed. Tekke Ahkiyinni, Sigemund’s father, pulled on the stories of his long dead ancestor to become something of a, “Ghost Pirate.” He began to call himself Wudga Wave Wraith, and he used the ancestral blade of Wudga Wave Wraith in combat. The screaming sword left bad wounds and scarred the few survivors mentally and physically.

Sigemund grew under his father’s tutelage, and learned the ways of his clan effectively. When his father was wounded during a raid, Sigemund took up the name of Wudga Wave Wraith and began raiding in his place. He changed the methods, becoming more violent and leaving no brith behind after raids. When oceanic pathways became too dangerous due to patrols or other threats, the tribe would retreat inland, hiding their ships. While inland they adopted the name of, “Hamasfolk,” and would scatter into Skokie, before eventually reconvening and meeting to return to the sea after the brith had calmed.

A brith ship captain ten years ago had found and ambushed the tribe at one of their ship stashes. Sigemund, being the honorable sort he was, challenged him, “In the stead of Wudga Wave Wraith,” who was, “Absent, raiding,” at the time.

The duel was something legendary, granting Sigemund the Brith Eater title among his tribesfolk. The brith that survived the duel were mostly slain or maimed by the tribe which had been worked into a fury by the battle. The highlight of which was the brith and Sigemund disarming each other, Sigemund slamming the brith sternum-first into the ground. The breakage was severe enough to displace the ribs. The brith had lost at that point, but Sigemund was in character to a dangerous degree. He recovered Hrunting from the ground, sheathed it, tore open the chest of the brith using the split chest as leverage against itself, then consumed its raw heart in front of its men.

As a final display of horror, Sigemund redrew his blade and cut the head of the captain off with Hrunting. The blade screamed, and Sigemund gave the command to cut off hands and kill brith.

Wudga Wave Wraith was hunted severely for quite some time afterwards. His people were savages, after all. They were monsters that consumed brith raw, then wore their pelts.

After a period of self-reflection, rare for Sigemund, he realized he had failed. Now, during another drought in raiding as they wait for patrols to die down, he sails to Valenndale in pursuit of a safe place to settle his people. Free of brith, and conflict. A letter he had recently pilfered during a raid had set his course for Caracas, to follow up on an opportunity to settle debts he did not have in hopes of claiming a safe place in the region to settle.


Character Quote: “Wudga Wave Wraith. That name is a symbol of my grandeur, but it also marks my failure to unite my people in a peace of any kind. I’ll not fail into my old age.”
War Cry: “Wudga Wave Wraith demands tribute in furs! Hark, brith! Hark and flee my seas! Hark and flee my screaming blade!”

Name: Kjellfrid Bjornsdottir
Titles: The Harold of Royals, the Songbird
Aliases: Wolfslav, Frig
Age: 27
Race/Ethnicty: Brith
Continent of Origin: Crysteria
Gender: Female
Class/Subclass: Bard, Valor

Though we will not be rolling dice for feats, this will give a base line to run off of for your character. Max for any stat is 20, average is 10. You have 75 stat point to assign between the six stats.

Strength:7
Dexterity: 15
Constitution: 8
Intelligence: 15
Wisdom: 13
Charisma: 17


Height: 5’10”
Weight: 135 lbs
Appearance Description: Kjellfrid is a Brith coated in a mixture of white and black fur, forming stripes along her back and tail. Her face follows this pattern with the black forming stripes at the edge of her face and the white taking up the majority. Her cat-like eyes are a deep green and her hair has been cut short, though it Alesha’s seems to be messily cut for whatever reason.

Her form seems to be kept up, with her body being preserved in the hourglass that many seem to yearn for, that said, she does seem to be more skinny due to months of imprisonment. However, that body that she had worked so hard to keep pristine is marred by scars from the Wolframs’ punishments and what is worse is that at the center of her bosom lies the insignia of the Von Wolfram house, marking her as their property for so long as she may live.

Day To Day Attire:
Kjellfrid tends to wear long clothing to mask the punishments of her body, their colors once bearing bright and vibrant hues of reds and purples have since been tempered and dyed to be far darker, with her shirt being dyed into a drab gray and her long skirt, ending just above her ankles, being made black to lie within accordance of the people who call them her masters. A cloak bearing the symbol of her old trope, a gold crown surrounded by golden branches interwoven with musical symbols, while mostly untouched and being a vibrant red, has been desecrated with the crown now barring the mark of Wolfram, to add further insult to her existence.

Strengths:

• Excellent Performer
• Quick Witted and Sharp Tongue
• Dexterous Hands

Weaknesses:

• Frail
• Mentally Defeated
• Paranoid

Timid * Anxious * Paranoid * Disconnected

Sexuality: Bisexual
Relationship Status: Single
Personality:
Who once was a happy and bubbling person, has since been changed into someone who has become disconnected with her own emotions, preferring to not display something which may be exploited or used. It was the pragmatism that had developed from an initial onset of fear and pain of seeing those who she cared for cut down and her own self being forced into servitude and tortured. Kjellfrid has since obvious become very timid and jumpy at any display of aggression, shrinking back and mentally preparing herself for any abuse that may come. Her time with the von Wolframs have made her paranoid of anyone who may be working alongside them.

However, under this timid and otherwise disconnected exterior, does lie that artistic and inspired bardic side that has afforded her the title of the ‘Harold or Royals’. This side of her thoroughly enjoys being around others and enjoys being the center of attention who performs anything to those who will listen. It is this side which is far more outgoing than how she tends to be when in the company of her masters, even refusing to sing for them unless they threaten her with various abuses.

Habits:

• Chew on Lip
• Nail Biting
• Bounce on toes

Hobbies: Writing, Singing
Fears:

• Torture
• Intimacy
• Pain

Likes:

• Performing
• Music
• Art
• Sailing
• Storytelling
• Comfortable Silence

Dislikes:

• Nobility
• The von Wolframs
• Torture
• Sadism
• Fighting
• Touching

A listing of skills, such as horseback riding, and natural abilities, such as night vision.

• Performance: Being a bard, Kjellfrid is very good at putting on an act to delight crowds, whether it be singing, dancing, or some other form of entertainment.
• Sleight of Hand: Years of card games, and being a prisoner to her masters, have taught these hands to become quick enough to grab things off of others.
• Acrobatics: Some performances require one to go that extra mile when it comes to flips and stunts, sometimes that can translate into further uses outside of the stage.
• Cooking: Life as an “indentured servant”, as well as motherly training, allows one to brush up on this more domestic art.
• Writing: Let alone being literate, Kjellfrid knows how to write and she knows how to write well. In her own right, she may even be called a poet
• Light Weapons Training: The last line of defense to a Jarl must be trained in the arts of warfare even if its something as common as a dagger and short sword.

• Heroism - An inspiring tune that makes one extremely brave, becoming almost fearless in the face of any challenges.
• Calm Emotion - A soothing tune meant to calm those who listen to it, sometimes able to keep tensions from boiling over into violence.
• Healing Song - While this song may not exactly heal people by ridding them of wounds or blights, this spell does dull the pain and if the pain is minor enough, makes it go away altogether. However, it is stressed that this spell does not actually heal wounds.
• Sleep - This tune helps one ease into sleep, or forces them into sleep if played intensely enough, though this spell can be resisted if the will of the listener overcomes the magic this tune gives off.

Possessions Generally On Person: Clothing, coin purse, money, etc

• Clothing Her standard clothing attire.
• Ghostly Flute: This item is a magically made flute tip that when put up the lips of the user conjures a ghostly shape of the rest of the flute, allowing it to be played.
• Thin Blanket: Don’t want to get too cold, eh?
• Spare Coin: A small amount of coin for a few days of lodging. Courtesy of the Wolfram Treasury.

Weapons: Personal weapons, no magically enhanced items

• Dagger Despite being a slave to her masters, she has been gifted a dagger to defend herself as she does this task for them.

History:
Born in Yorvk, Kjellfrid’s life seemed laid out for her before she had the ability to make a proper choice on what she would have wanted. Her mother was a writ, her mother’s mother was a writ, and so on and so forth, with the art of speech craft passed down from mother to daughter for the last three generations. It was this path in Kjellfrid’s life that had grown her confidence and sharpened her tongue to such a degree that even the Jarl’s own blades seemed dull by comparison. It seemed that tradition seemed to be flowing eagerly into this you girl and she took to it with almost equal eagerness.

However, it was one day when her father, Bjorn, had come home one night far too drunk than anyone had a right to be and butchered Kjellfrid’s mother, Freya, for an alleged affair that Kjellfrid knew not of. Of course, this left Kjellfrid without a home and without a family to love, though, not wanting her to give up on her tradition of being a writ, her Jarl organized for her to train under another. While Kjellfrid, now a teen, was happy with the motion, her inspiration was simply not there as being a writ would only remind her of her mother, and subsequently the murder, at every turn. Yet, she would continue in an effort not to disappoint her Jarl.

When her new master, Erik, had presented her with the Ghostly Flute as a gift for her hard work, it was merely too much as she felt that she had grown too close with Erik. Kjellfrid has run away in the dead of night, still holding onto the flute as she traveled down the snow laden roads without company or warmth. As she travelled through, she did find a traveling caravan, a trope, known as the “Harolds of Royal”. They were kind people, taking her in and giving this lost girl warmth and food, they sang and danced and told stories that would only bring back the inspiration that she had once lost. With nowhere to go, Kjellfrid joined this traveling group, content with living a life that was free and always kept her moving.

Under their years of travel with the Harolds, Kjellfrid learned much about being a bard, learning how to perform without the need of a sharp tongue at all points in time. It was fun, far more than she could have enjoyed, and for once again, she felt as if she had a family. Good times, however, come and go just as a bountiful harvest is not guaranteed each year, for the Harolds had made the mistake of landing in Redcliffe in Carthas after denying the ruling family there performance due to their corruption and cruelty. This family, out of retribution of having their name slandered in such a fashion, slaughtered each and every one of the Harolds. If it were not for the intervention of one of the children of this family, Kjellfrid too would have met the axe. It is to this day that she serves this family as an “indentured servant”, now known merely as the Wolfslav by local people.


Character Quote: “A good day is but a prelude to a far worse storm the next.”

Name: Vekyzz
Titles: None.
Aliases: In the shady business it has become more common to simply ask for 'Annihilus' if his services are desired.
Age: 34
Race/Ethnicty: Tiefling
Continent of Origin: High Mist
Gender: Male
Class/Subclass: Rogue | Gunslinger


Strength: 20
Dexterity: 7
Constitution: 19
Intelligence: 13
Wisdom: 10
Charisma: 6


Height: 6'10"
Weight: 350 lbs

Appearance Description: Even by Tiefling standards Vekyzz is not exactly the smallest person around to say the least, but still his body gives the impression that it is actually useful bulk resulting from years of constant use and not some hastily assembled, less efficient mass. Aside from this very first impression he features the typcial traits of his kind, primarily a pair of bony extrusions from his forehead that (at least so far) are still in pristine condition and the dark, rather colorless complexion of his skin. His eyes are striking, his nose pointy and his almost black hair neatly arranged in a smaller number of strings having the thickness of a finger. Vekyzz does not bear any scars or other signs of combat or progressed aging, but this only helps people wonder how he managed to lose the fourth and fifth finger of his left hand. Red paint normally is not a part of his face, but if he feels the need for making a more fierce impression towards his victims he also doesn't refrain from using it.

Day To Day Attire: Vekyzz doesn't care much about what kind of clothing he wears in the public as long as it is halfway clean, doesn't smell right up to the skies above, feels comfortable given the current temperature and, as an added bonus point, even fits his size. He dresses cheaply which limits himself to leather boots, woolen shirts and trousers held together by either a simple girdle or even just as much as a thin rope. Where he really leaves coins on the counter is his work gear, but it would be pretty stupid to wear this in the open.

Strengths:

• He has a very creative mind capable of improvisation, invention and out of the box thinking.
• There is a wide field between 'doing nothing' and 'killing your enemy'. He is good at estimating the impact of his physical actions and has an above-average degree of knowledge about a humanoid's physiology. Merely temporarily disabling an enemy in order to subject him to subsequent torture is possible, but he also is a comparably good choice when it comes to deciding whether it is safe to pull out that broken arrow out of a companion's leg or not.
• He is capable of taking as much of a beating as he can deal.

Weaknesses:

• Intimidation is a good thing, but only as long as long as you want the person you're talking with to be intimidated. Vekyzz' general appearance more often than not already emanates an aura of being potentially harmful even before he starts talking and, frankly, afterwards he lacks the skill necessary to make you think otherwise soon. Some people approve this, but most do not.
• He knows which side of a sword to grab, but he doesn't know how to handle this and many other 'traditional' weapons. This also means that he doesn't know very well how to defend himself against those should the situation arise that he is close to an enemy wearing such. He usually tries to check this out before closing in.
• His sheer size and weight can cause trouble other people might not face.

Cunning * Harsh * Tenacious * Loyal * Bold

Sexuality: Straight
Relationship Status: Single

Personality: Vekyzz is not the kind of guy who takes most things for granted. The firm belief that much more secrets still wait to be uncovered than have already been revealed is what keeps his curiosity going, the latter probably being the reason why he left his Tiefling homelands in the first place. He's a bit of a dreamer, often silently imagining what, maybe, might be possible if just enough effort was made and then a little depressed when he comes to the conclusion that the current society won't do it. However he still has to make a very mundane living and that's where, at least for outside observers, his open-mindedness takes a rather bizarre, malicious turn: War is everywhere and there's no feasible way to stop it. It is not even certain if not killing each other from time to time is better for the overall, long-term development after all. Being a soldier, a devoted killer under the command of some more or less arbitrarily chosen ruler is a socially well respected business, so why should being an assassin not be the same ? Of course he is clever enough not to mention this opinion in the public, but it is his inner justification for what he is doing.

This should not be confused with mindless obedience. A soldier must obey to commands or face disciplinary measures, as a freelancing killer he has some freedom to decline, ask more questions or even do own investigations behind the scene. He doesn't kill merely for the sake of killing: It is a job, not a fetish. Once having convinced himself about doing the right thing he neither gives up easily nor holds back when it comes to brutal measures. Reliability is a virtue and this not only holds true for clients, but also for friends. Friends are far more than just 'useful' as Vekyzz can't separate himself from the time to time need to just sit, talk, drink, enjoy and maybe play a game or two. Unfortunately his work and the caution necessary have left him with only very few people whom he truly considers friends. It is very difficult to become one of those, but once reaching that status one can rest assured that he'll be loyal.

Vekyzz is an experimenter who could not be stopped by dangerous encounters with his own creations. If there is free time and spare coin he likes working on his stuff or creating new items even if they are potentially dangerous not only for their intended recipients. This goes as far as that he often finds it difficult to keep his mouth shut when he sees something and deems it in dire need of improvement, be it annoying or not. When not revolving around technical stuff though he is a bit on the less talkative side of things, sometimes even the silent observer who gives everyone the feeling of staring at them. Well... he sometimes does that indeed. Most victims only remember when and why he scrutinized them from a passer-by point of view when it is too late for them.

Habits:

• Rubbing his nose or letting his fingers slide along the ridges on his face.
• Inhaling the smell of food served before digging in.
• Fiddling around with random items that happen to lie nearby when he feels bored or is just waiting for something to happen.

Hobbies:

• Physical exercise
• (Non magic) tinkering
• Painting -- not only on his face, but for real. Not that he'd excel at it though.

Fears:

• Becoming the target of one of his 'colleagues'.
• Drowning: Things are okay as long as he can pretty much rule out the possibility of this happening, but he happily retreats from taking a bath in the ocean or diving through that flooded cave if possible.
• Once becoming an old man whose thread of life refuses to snap despite already being crippled.

Likes:

• Art
• Wealth
• Straightforwardness
• Journeying
• Experiments
• Studies

Dislikes:

• Overcrowded places
• Cold
• Orders
• Others doing the exact same thing he does. It always invokes that feeling of competition.
• Excessive smalltalk
• Many kinds of alcoholic beverages.

• Wrestling: He has obvious difficulties dealing with the faster and smaller kind of combatants or those who wear sharp weapons, but is very proficient at beating the remainder in a controlled manner. Choking is a time-consuming, but very silent, and, given his strength, quite reliable way of disabling or killing somebody. Unlike a dagger or an arrow it doesn't even shed any blood. This is more than just the raw appliance of force.
• Precise shooting: Handy, advanced optics for gunpowder-driven devices don't exist yet, but he knows how to account for the wear and tear of his weaponry, for gravity and wind and how to aim properly. It's not sniping, but probably as close as one can get to it given the technical limitations.
• Riding: Back in his homeland Vekyzz has learned how to travel on the backs of the Bearded Wraiths that are native to the region instead of just delaying their desire to eat him, but getting one of those vicious lizards off the continent and somehow socially accepted elsewhere was way too much of an obstacle. Therefore he has endured the need to adapt and to learn how to ride horses. He's not very good at it, but he can hold himself on top of one and even make them go into a desired direction.
• Mechanics: Usually more associated with dwarves or gnomes it came only natural to Vekyzz to delve into the depths of this kind of science in order to create wonderous things himself. It is magic, just without... magic.
• Drawing: It's a recreational hobby and such is the quality of the outcome, but he has become better at it over the recent years.
• Athletics: Sometimes one needs to climb, someone one needs to run and sometimes one needs to jump downstairs for an extra speedup.

• Alchemy: Being on the borderline between magic and mundane chemistry Vekyzz has learned how to address his need of certain substances himself. He can create gunpowder or similar generic explosives, lubricants for his devices, anti-corrosives, acids and other technical substances and, at least to some degree, collect the necessary ingredients himself should he encounter them in the wilderness. Mixing stuff inteded to be consumed by living beings is not part of this.

Possessions Generally On Person:

• 'Civilian' clothing: A woolen shirt and trousers held together by a simple leather girdle.
• Leather boots: Quite a bit worn, but still a reliable and obligatory part around his feet.
• Coin pouch: Enough reserves to buy food and water for a day or two.
• Water flask: Vekyzz' throat has a tendency to become dry...

Weapons:

• Long-barreled rifle: Created by himself, this contraption is dead slow to reload, quite big and heavy and loud as hell, but provides a lot of one-shot firepower, range and accuracy.
• Bear trap: Simple but reliable for creating an ambush. One injured horse or man can force an entire caravan to stop for a bit, making them a better target.
• Caltrops: A small bag filled with caltrops and a small dispenser charge inside that should explode on impact. Not enough to seriously hurt anybody, unless of course they start moving afterwards and don't wear armored boots. Unlike the bear trap this obviously can't be set up in advance and claimed to be an accident afterwards, but it also can't be missed by sheer chance.
• Blowpipe: This thing clearly lacks the range and power of a rifle or crossbow, but unlike the former it is much quieter and unlike the latter it can be hidden excellently. With it comes a small number of darts.

Armor:

• Black leather west: Outfitted with a large number of pockets all over the place it is highly optimized for storage of and easy access to all the items he might need in action. The material used for this is black, well maintained and high quality leather. It does only have limited protective properties.
• Plated gloves: Handling unstable alchemic ingredients and powerful guns has left him with two fingers less before getting these, even though they were not the main cause. These gloves serve excellently as a precautionary measure against accidents.
• Heavy belt: This one has the benefit of being outfitted with eyelets in order to allow its wearer to thread a climbing rope through it.
• Light cloak: It not only serves as an additional means of protecting against cold, but also greatly helps to hide his horns and equipment worn underneath, thereby protecting his identity in case he's spotted from further away while accessing/leaving a place.

Pack Contents:

• Lockpicks: Self-explanatory.
• Small crowbar: Even in a world without headcrabs this item is still useful for opening doors that have bars instead of locks.
• Food rations: A mixture of bread, salt meat and other edible stuff that doesn't perish all too quickly.
• Extended water supply: Drinking is more important than eating. Used conservatively this should last for two days.
• Rope with grapple: This is going to be needed for more efficient climbing. It is meant to be thrown, not launched via crossbow or other means.

Magical Items:
None.

Potions:
A small satchel of gunpowder.

Creation Materials:

• Set of mechanical tools: A technician's dream come true in the form of pincers, hammers and a few other small-scale items intended for messing around with metal, wood, leather and stone.
• Mortar and pestle: For alchemistic purposes.
• A few flasks and glass vials: For alchemistic purposes.

History: Vekyzz was born in the Tiefling's homeland of Babel, a rather small village near the Pillar City of Syddal to be precise. The so far only child of his father Andron and his mother Indoris was born into a family of rather low ranking nobles. As such he did not need to worry much about materialistic concerns, but also learnt from early on that Tiefling society revolves much around politics. Politics more often than not are regarded as an investment of one's funds, so being stuck in a comparative lack of those also meant not having much influence. He fared considerably better than the average of his contemporaries, but still faced much more the restrictive side of his environment than that of liberty.

The young male developed quite rapidly physically, soon surpassing his childhood friends and thus appearing older than he actually was. Not yet fit for military service, Vekyzz still became eligible for the regular hunting parties that were close to obligatory for those sufficiently fit in the region around Syddal. Not strictly ordered by the Caliph of the time his strong desire still was well known: People should be kept halfway trained and ready for the harsh climate they're in. The pressure was much too high for openly denying this, so Vekyzz followed suit.

The party didn't bother going the long way around the mountains, but instead ventured directly to the northeast over them. However borders were much less clear in this kind of rugged terrain, causing them to unintentionally crossing the line into the gnomish territory of Koponbect. Except for a small mining colony there luckily was not much of a confrontation, but for the first time Vekyzz saw something else than his own homeland -- and it would prove to be yet another nail for the coffin he would put his heritage into. He returned from the trip mesmerized by what little bits of technology he had been able to see and, while he had not been able to actually talk to any of the gnomes for long, he had gained some knowledge about how different a culture could be.

Magic was something quite strictly controlled for fear of the Dread God, but technology was less of a delicate matter though not entirely without debate. Some day he learned the meaning of 'less can be more' the hard way when, in his abscence, his stockpile suffered from self-ignition and subsequent explosion. Even in other regions of the world accidentally blowing up part of an entire building would have caused trouble, but for him consequences were certain. In a quite public and no less cruel 'ceremony' his two missing fingers were crushed and cut and in his pain Vekyzz internally already separated from Babel.

He waited it out though until it was time for his pilgrimage as he saw this as the best opportunity. To cut things short he never arrived at the last station of his journey, Azeroth. Outfitted with as much support as his parents could provide, he beat his way to the east coast of High Mist and aboard a ship he was rather certain wouldn't turn around just for handing him over to the Wayward. Starting there he had to learn how to remain undercover, and he had to do even more so once the ship did not land in the tiefling exclave of Saldona, but in a port of the Union. Knowing that in The Dales he was even more easy to spot and pick out by any Wayward persecutors happening to roam around, he decided to stay underground even if it meant that he had to start stealing. Staying alive and well was simply more important than doing what most other people would deem 'honest' work.

The first person he actually killed was one of those Wayward persecutors. It was an act both out of fear and out of hatred, but nontheless at this point Vekyzz noticed that causing someone else's death not really had much of a psychological impact upon him for as long as he was convinced about doing the right thing. So why not make a business out of it ? It wasn't worse than what the Tieflings in his homeland did, but certainly was better for himself.

Expertise grew rapidly, but not everything was perfect. Roughly one year ago he happened to break into a warehouse of the North Astorian Trading Company and get caught by a stroke of bad luck. Yet the local administrator he subsequently was confronted with was a clever man, realizing that someone who has managed to beat next to all existing security precautions in the area might actually be more useful to the company alive than rotting away in a prison. Getting Vekyzz' attention and loyalty wasn't that difficult after all as there still was problem very high up the man's priority list that could be solved utilizing the company's massive influence: the Wayward. As long as the company, at least officially, had no idea about how their new employee had gotten to his extensive knowledge everything was fine for them and as long as the Wayward back in High mist would not reconsider the issue with Vekyzz a third time everything was fine for him as well.


Character Quote: "I don't know what you are talking about!"

Name: "I left my name and weapons in High Mist for someone more worthy of them. Many years ago, I helped a town and they decided my name should be Annabella. Then, they said my hands are stones and thus they added Stonefist to my name. It is a good name and so I kept it."

Theme: Colter Wall - "Sleeping on the Blacktop"

Titles: None

Aliases: The Wandering Monk

Age: 44

Race/Ethnicity: Orc

Continent of Origin: High Mist

Gender: Female

Class/Subclass: Monk/Open Hand


Strength: 15
Dexterity: 18
Constitution: 10
Intelligence: 8
Wisdom: 12
Charisma: 12



Height: 6’3

Weight: 195lbs

Appearance : A bit short for an orc, but still plenty tall for most anyone else. Annabella’s figure is well muscled and sculpted from years of honing her body into a deadly weapon with long, coarse hair black as pitch that just touches the middle of her back. Like that of the rest of her kind, Annabella’s skin is thick and green but with heavy scarring on her knuckles and forearms while her palms are a more calluses and scar tissue than actual skin. A soft smile is her most common expression or absolute serenity if she is the depths of meditation. She is the picture of calm even in the midst of fire and death.

Day To Day Attire: A simple linen shirt with tattered and patched wool pants rolled halfway up her calves. She does not wear shoes both because she does not need them and because they are very costly for someone who walks as often as she does.

Strengths:

• Incrediblly Agile
• Patient
• Calm Under Pressure

Weaknesses:

• Believes everyone deserves a chance to prove they can change (sometimes at her own peril)
• Her refusal of worldly possessions can land her in hot water that could’ve easily been avoided with a potion or a coil of rope
• Has almost no filter and says just about everything on her mind

Jovial * Serene * Blunt * Dauntless

Sexuality: Straight

Relationship Status: Single

Personality: The mental image most people have of a monk is a stoic and near emotionless warrior priest. While this idea rarely holds true even for traditional monks, Annabella breaks this mold even further. She is calm, but merry. She’s spent as many hours in meditation as she has in taverns and sees no sense in denying herself worldly pleasures. What’s the point of seeing the wonders of the world if you refuse to indulge in them? What she takes issue with is excess for its own sake as well as greed. But nothing gets under her skin quite like a blatant abuse of one's power be it physical or societal. She is thoroughly unconcerned with matters of race and species, and only cares about the character of a person.

Annabella is quick with a joke or words of encouragement to lift the spirits of a room. In the same vein, she’s a peacemaker and greatly prefers to solve conflict through words rather than resorting to violence. Not to say that she hesitates to use violence when necessary, she simply prefers to talk through a problem rather than punch through. She will, of course, not hold back once she must defend herself or others around her.

Habits:

• Has a thousand yard stare when deep in thought
• Plays with her hair when bored

Hobbies:

• Meditation
• Physical conditioning
• Practicing her form
• Gathering stories

Fears:

• Dying in a fire or being burned alive
• Dying before she finds true peace
• Leading others in a crisis situation

Likes:

• Alcohol
• Good Conversation
• Travel
• Story Telling
• Humor
• Meeting new people

Dislikes:

• Abuses of Power
• Willful Ignorance
• Freezing Rain
• Greed
• Shoes
• Violence for its own sake

• Unarmed Combat: Her hands are just as capable of cutting a man down as any sword and to say she kicks like a horse would not be an exaggeration.
• Unarmored Defense: All combatants wear armor of a sort. Her armor is forged with graceful dodges interwoven with deft parries.
• Acrobatics: Spin kicking a bandit in the face looks really cool but doing so takes a great deal of balance and agility.
• Wilderness Survival: The roads are long and often devoid of merchants. Traveling on foot makes any journal especially long and necessitates living off the land. Other times no one is willing to share their roof with a stranger and Annabella is forced to make due.
• Navigation: Avoiding starvation on the open road is ideal, but so is not becoming hopelessly lost. She knows the stars of many lands in every season like she knows her own family. Finding water or maintaining a path through dense forest are almost involuntary reactions for her.
• Language Comprehension: Her travels have taught her the languages of many peoples. She is fluent in Common, Orcish, Dwarven, Caracan, and Otmoni while being only conversational in Elven.
• Storyteller: Annabella has collected many, many, many stories over her extensive travels and committed them to memory. Everything from heroic epics spun by dwarven bards to folklore of villages so far flung that no one bothers to remember their names except on tax day. There is more to storytelling than mere memorization, she is also animated and breathes life into her stories with voice and movement.

Innate magic focus.

Step of the Wind - jump height and running speed significantly increased for a brief period
Thunderous Blow - a focused and devastating strike that can crumple or outright shatter metal and break solid rock
Falling Hail Style - empowering many strikes with one’s own magic against a single opponent
Harmony - aligning one’s very soul with the very cosmos to recover from moderate wounds



Possessions Generally On Person: A linen shirt, wool pants, a utility knife, and a small coin pouch with 4 gold are her only possessions.

Pack Contents: None. She doesn’t carry a pack.


Annabella had a proper name once. She even had a proper title and commanded the respect of many in her homeland. No one expected great things from a runt, even if her father sat at the head of her tribe’s war council. She wasn’t told to follow in his footsteps but she did regardless and pursued her goals with relentless drive. The air of a leader hung about her and she found it easy to rally others to her. It’s no wonder how she quickly found herself leading a small warband of her very own not long after she became an adult. Her deeds spread far by word of mouth alone and her renown seemed to grow by the day. Everything came crashing down when her thirst for glory lead to disaster. She never speaks of what happened, and even the vaguest details are unknown to everyone who has not heard the tragedy of the Rok’drol Company. Even then, not much is known other than the fact that Annabella was the only survivor.

She stumbled back to her village, barely alive with a dead-eyed stare and refused to speak at all. Once healed, she informed one of her tribe’s priests that should would be relinquishing her gifted weapon as well as her name and her place in the tribe. She left without another word and never set foot in I’Canxou again. That was 17 years ago. Since then, she has wandered Ithea in search of inner peace and the strength to forgive her own sins.


Character Quote: ”Existence is meaningless, a blank page. Anything can be written on an empty page and I intend to write something on mine I’d be proud to read.”