Thalamor has a long history, mostly shrouded in myths and legends. According to ancient doctrine, the world came into being during the first age. Only the gods, Sinthear, and the demons, Nathaid, lived then, and they fought for dominion over the new land. During the eon-long conflict, terrible and fantastic creatures were created from both sides to gain the upper hand. The gods finally won a costly victory and drove the demons into the darkness outside the world, Dorc Hadath, from which they could never return uninvited.

Then came the second age, when the gods decided to populate the world with their chosen people and leave its fate in their hands. The elves were the first to see the light of day and lived for thousands of years by the gods' side, who taught them about the land and its inherent magical power. They were nurtured to care for the peoples that had not yet come into the world so that they could lead them in the gods' stead. Afterward, a variety of different peoples and creatures were created, including the dwarves, orcs, and humans. When the work was finally completed, the gods left the world. Many have wondered why they couldn't stay with their creation, and although the answer has eluded most, it is said that the oldest of the elves have carried the answer with them since time immemorial, but refuse to share it with anyone else.

The third age was the golden age of the elves. They led the peoples as the gods had taught them and managed to maintain the world's balance despite many severe crises and conflicts. Knights-errant, evil sorcerers, dragons, and orcish raiding parties; there was no threat that was too powerful for the elves. From their great empire Mor Admad in the northern primeval forest Sylvan, the elves observed and guided the growth of human and dwarf lands. In the north, the twin kingdoms of Antuath and Aimsir were founded by Thiarnerna and Ceannerna, human royal dynasties of the noblest of blood. With the blessing of the elves, humans spread to the south where the principalities of Aterno, Kapernum, Virentia, and Brunnea emerged under their northern rulers' foresight. Meanwhile, the dwarves created some of Thalamor's greatest wonders; the Sun Hall in Faoi Gorm, the Sky Road in Thar Dearg, and the Wind Chime in Marbhalla, among many others. The proud masters of the underworld forged beautiful crown jewels as gifts to the princes of humans and elves, and helped with the construction of several mighty castles and forts. The third age was like a dream, but all dreams must end.

Less than a century ago, an industrial revolution began in the Southern Kingdom, a development that would overturn the order that the elves had established.The fourth age began with red fire and black smoke.

Magic is a supernatural force that permeates Thalamor. According to the elves, magic is the force with which the gods created the world and everything in it. The gods then gifted the elves with this power in order to guide the lesser races once they had gone. In essence, magic is the power to bend or break natural law using willpower. There are many different ways to channel and focus magic, from spells and chants to rituals and runes, but the thing they all hace in common is that it's very diffucult to use and takes a long time to master. In addition, the use of magic is exhausting due to the intense focus required to succeed. Needless to say, most great mages in history have been elves, although there have been some of reknown among the other races.

Magic is not a very popular phenomenon is Caledon. Since the advent of industry, humans have turned away from the old ways, and view magic with suspicion. The most important factor leading to this shift in attitude is the effect that magic energy has on machinery. Whenever magic is practiced, it creates a field where natural law is altered, or even suspended. The exact effect is hard to guess as it varies with the nature of the spell and its magnitude, but the catastrophic consequences this has on industrial equipment cannot be understated. Mages are therefore often banned from sites where crucial machinery is housed, such as factories, power plants, and railway stations.

Since the Industrial Revolution, Caledon has grown immensely and transformed into a metropolis of great significance. It is known as the largest city in the world, houses the largest port, and is the heart of all international trade. Since the revolution, railways to the rest of the neighboring cities have been built, along with a subway, paved roads, and modern sewer and gas lines. Many famous monuments and buildings, not to mention numerous factories, have also been added.

Caledon is divided into different layers and districts that have been distilled as the city has emerged. On the east bank of the Kaper, the more affluent quarters are located, and on the west bank, the impoverished slums. In the south, the harbor extends towards the Twilight Sea with warehouses and factories, and in the north lie administrative buildings and institutions of learning. The central station for the railway network is located in the northeast, and the infamous prison island nicknamed The Pit lies off the harbor in the southwest.

Outside the city walls, villages and farming communities spread inland. Here, most people live as they always have, even though novelties from the big city are slowly finding their way out.

Caledon's population has exploded in the last century, from around three hundred thousand to over a million. The absolute majority of these are humans and human hybrids, along with a large minority population of orcish slave workers. In addition to these, there are about a thousand dwarves and a handful of elves living in the city.

Only humans enjoy full citizenship in Caledon. The remaining population live with varying degrees of privileges and segregation, but are not allowed to own private property or hold public offices.

Dwarves are the people who enjoy the most privileges after humans in Caledon. The overwhelming majority of them live in fort-like embassies, called Khâzad or clan halls by the dwarves themselves. From their Khâzad, dwarves conduct trade and handle diplomatic relations with the humans in the city. Each Khâzad is owned by the clan in question and within its walls, dwarven law applies, not human. There are five Khâzad in Caledon; three in the northeastern district, one in the southeast, and one in the western slum. Rumors constantly circulate in the city's pubs and inns about all the treasures the dwarves have gathered in their massive houses, but there are few who actually attempt to seize anything as no one has ever heard of anyone returning after such an escapade. The few dwarves who live outside the city's Khâzad are usually outcasts and clanless. They usually keep their distance from other dwarves and live with the city's humans. It is common for such dwarves to become sought-after craftsmen and blacksmiths due to their cultural inclination for the trade. Overall, dwarves are well-regarded and respected by Caledon's population, except for sporadic jealousy towards their alleged wealth and some suspicion towards their reclusive nature.

Elves are an unusual and sometimes sensitive element in Caledon. Only a handful of individuals live in the city, and these often live alone and far from others of their kind. People often act politely towards elves, or stay out of their way entirely. This unfortunately rarely stems from actual respect for their people, but rather from fear. During the early steps of the Industrial Revolution, the need for fuel was great, and the ancient Sylvan forest was cut down. The forest didn't house a proper elven population, but many elven warriors took up arms and came from the north to stop the loggers. Consequently, many families in Caledon have lost a member to the elves' arrows, and the horror stories made up about the children of the forest are still told today in the city's salons and cellars. Because of this, but also because of their reputation as magical creatures, a nervous atmosphere surrounds the elves in the city, especially in all districts where machines are used. They are rarely allowed near either train stations or factories, even though the constables whose job it is to prevent them probably wouldn't dare stop them if they really tried. The fear of the unknown that the elves represent means they rarely have to endure open discrimination, but an elf would have a hard time integrating with the human society in Caledon even if they tried.

Half-elves are generally liked and accepted in Caledon. They enjoy pretty much the same social status as humans, except for the right to hold public office. However, half-elves are forced to cope with a certain degree of exoticizing and are considered particularly exciting to have in one's social circle, or particularly remarkable to have had as a romantic conquest. They are often expected to know the elven language, or possess knowledge of magic.

Orcs are despised and feared in Caledon, to such a degree that they are not considered persons but rather beasts or animals. It is permissible and even common among entrepreneurs to keep orcish slave workers who toil in factories and warehouses. Orcs are not allowed in the city unless they are someone's property, and even then, they are only allowed to reside in specific ghettos or at their designated workplaces. Orcs found outside these areas are ruthlessly hunted by the city's constables and hanged without trial if they have not already been killed during the hunt.

Half-orcs are treated with a mixture of disgust and pity. They are not hated in the same way as orcs, but there are few who want to mingle with their kind. Often they are left to orphanages from an early age as it is considered very shameful for a family to have orcish blood in the family. The outsider status and rootlessness often lead to a life marked by poverty, misery, and crime. No respectable town dweller would voluntarily choose to be involved in business with a half-orc.

Despite Caledon's wealth and development, large parts of its population live in poverty. Over two thirds of the inhabitants live in the slums west of the river, often in crowded quarters with several families per house.

According to some scholars, Nord people are from a place called "Nordland", or "Jumne", as others claim. Nordland is said to be far north of Calradia, over the sea, and it is also the home of the many sea raiders plaguing the northern coasts of the land.

The Nords were invited by the Calradic Empire to crew their galleys, and were given land on the coast as payment for this service. After the Empire fell however, a Nord leader named Gundig Hairy-Breeks landed in Calradia to claim a supposed Nord birthright of the whole continent. Certain scholars makes note that this was a fabrication by the skalds and qualifies it by noting the Nords need no excuse to go to war. Gundig Hairy-Breeks would be killed attempting to attack the Rock of Rivacheg, but Nords still come to Calradia under the idea of claiming Calradia by force.

This predisposition to war also factored into the rise of its current leader, King Ragnar, and the disinheritance of the claimant Lethwin Far-Seeker. The king before Ragnar and Lethwin's father, King Hakrim, had Lethwin sent abroad to learn academic arts believing that the Nords needed to be more than warriors. Ragnar disagreed and when Lethwin was shipwrecked on his way home to claim his throne, Ragnar took the throne for himself.

As an AI, I need you to generate a character for a medieval fantasy adventure. This character should be unique, with an intriguing backstory, specific abilities, and a compelling motivation. Please include a short summary of the character as well.
This prompt will return a detailed character description and a short summary. The short summary will be your constant companion, a quick-reference character profile to be used in your future posts.

In a land shaped by magic and sword, (Your Character Summary) finds themselves in the bustling city of Veridian at the brink of dusk. The festival of the Moon's Awakening is about to begin, a once-in-a-decade event, promising revelry, danger, and a chance for glory. How does your character react to this situation?

• Her coven
• The wild
• Freedom
• Balance
• The Old Goat

• Cities
• Laws
• Nobles
• Soldiers
• Slavery

• Shapeshifting - As a woodland witch in the coven of the Old Goat, Simbelmynë has been taught to change her physical form into that of an animal. Although the more seasoned witches can change into almost anything Simbelmynë has a less varied but still formidable arsenal of shapes at her command including, but not limited to; a wolf, a stag, an eagle, and a snake, all white like freshly fallen snow.
• Commune with Nature - Another part of Simbelmynës training as a woodland witch is the ability to speak in the tongues of animals and plants. She can speak with any animal or plant in theory, but has not yet learned every dialect and variation. As it stands, she is proficient with most living things in the forest, but can have difficulties with animals and plants from other biomes.
• Otherworldly Patron - Simbelmynë, along with the rest of her coven, has entered a pact with the Horned One. In exchange for her undying loyalty and soul, this eldritch being has endowed her with frightful arcane powers. She can blast her foes with bursts of flaming eldritch energy, and can let that same power imbue her flesh to enhance her physical prowess manyfold. When she does this, she glows with a green fire, her eyes shining bright and smoldering.

What are the drawbacks of those abilities?

• Shapeshifting - Simbelmynës mother always warned her to be on her guard while changing shapes, lest she forget that she's an elvian and not a snake. The alien physiology of the shapes take their toll over time, affecting Simbelmynës dexterity and even perception as she changes back to her original form. Shorter transformations are no danger, but longer periods can prove problematic.
• Commune with Nature - Simbelmynë has spent so much time talking to the beings of the wild that she has become disillusioned with humanoid speech. She dislikes most humanoid languages, percieving them as crude, and constantly fails to find the right word for something that comes naturally to her when speaking to a deer, or a toad, or a pine.
• Otherworldly Patron - The sect worshipping the Old Goat is far from popular in all the realms of the empire. The Horned One is more or less seen as a demon or evil spirit by many, marking its disciples as mislead or evil themselves. As if that wasn't enough, Simbelmynë must contend with the will of the Wilder and obey its commands, which it utters through cryptic dreams and visions from time to time.

• Nature - Her mothers tutelage in knowledge of the forest has taught Simbelmynë almost everything there is to know about the plants and animals inhabiting it.
• Survival - A lifetime of living in the wild has molded Simbelmynë into a skilled outdoorsman.
• Religion - An important part of her life in the coven was the rituals and ceremonies dedicated to the Old Goat. Simbelmynë knows them all by heart, and carries a small wooden effigy of the Wilder with her wherever she goes.

Alberich son of Gudmund, of the Orebender Clan
98
Male
Alberich is of average height for a dwarf, but somewhat heavier than his fellow brothers and sisters. He has blonde hair and beard, often braided and bound to keep it from getting in the way in the smithy. His small, tired eyes are a light shade of brown, peering thoughtfully from under heavy brows. He has pronounced cheekbones and a massive nose, which often acts as his primary emotional tell.

Alberich is heavily muscled, his arms brawny beyond what is normal for his kind, a feature which has gotten some of his brethren speculating that he probably lives up to his family name. He usually dresses in simple, durable clothes of wool and leather, opting to walk barefooted even when working at the forge.

Alberich is never seen without the ornamented silver bracelet on his arm, a wedding band gifted to him by his deceased mate, Holga Ingridsdaughter Oakenshield. He has a slow, deliberate way of walking and talking, never seeming to make or say any unnecessary moves or words.
Alberich is a respected and reknowned blacksmith in the halls of Thrillem, known for his qualitative craft. He can work any kind of ore in the forge, having learned many secrets from the master smiths of the senior Orebenders. He has just recently passed the test of mastery himself, finally earning the right to work his own anvil and take on apprentices himself.

Apart from being good with the hammer and tongs, Alberich likes to cook and has become skilled with the craft, experimenting with whatever herbs and spices he can get his hands on from traders and travellers. He plays the drum, as could be expected from a blacksmith, and sometimes blows the horn, one of which he has forged himself from bronze.

What Alberich lacks, however, is speed. He can be slow and thoughtful to the point of stagnation, always careful and deliberate in his actions. This has a tendancy to drive younger, more eager dwarves to frustration or even anger at times, as Alberichs slowness of action is extraordinary even among his kind. He also suffers from bouts of depression, fueled by the loss of his mate. During such bouts he becomes distant and unresponsive, often secluding himself from others for days at a time.

The greed is constantly there, of course, always surfacing at the worst of times. Alberich has a hard time separating from the more expensive and exquisite things he makes, to the point where he sometimes is unwilling to part with them without further compensation or persuasion.
Alberich was born to Gudmund Thorson Orebender and Isolde Tyrasdaughter Rocksplitter. It was decided that he should follow in his fathers footsteps and learn the blacksmiths trade, and he has spent the most of his life as an apprentice to the master smiths of the Orebenders, learning their craft.

He met his mate, Holga Ingridsdaughter Oakenshield, at a feast in the hall of the Oakenshields. His family had been invited there as thanks for supplying the warriors of the Oakenshields with weapons and armor to beat back a particulary nasty infestation of goblins in the lower tunnels of Thrillem, and the two dwarves quickly fell in love. Their union was quickly negotiated and accepted by both clans as a suitable bond of friendship, and they were wed after only a decade of courting.

Disaster soon struck, however, not twenty years into their marriage. Holga was slain among many brave dwarves in an attempt to plug a breach by marauding goblins in the mines, and Alberich went into mourning. They had been preparing to sire children of their own, but Alberich knew that he now had lost both his companion and the prospects of carrying his bloodline to a new generation.

It took him over a decade to find the strength to once again lift the hammer, but when he did, he regained some semblance of a purpose to his life. Work consumed him, and he was deemed ready to face the masters trial at a staggering tender age of only ninety. He passed to thunderous applause from the collected Orebender, Rocksplitter, and Oakenshield clans, and a feast was held in his honor that has seen few of its likes before or after. Alberich was fondly regarded as the future of the Orebender smiths, and his name was immediately mentioned by the three clans as a candidate for the expedition to the surface.

His Majesty King Tyronde of Vortigern, alias the White Tiger, is the current ruler of the Westerlands. He is celebrated far and wide as a hero for having defeated his evil older brother, the Fallen King, who consorted with demons and preyed upon the populace. Under his reign, the people of the Westerlands have enjoyed peace and prosperity like never before throughout history. Together with the Temple of the Sun, he has ousted the old false gods of the heathens and unified the kingdom under one faith and tradition. Truly, there has never been a King like him.

If you believe the official story, that is.

Another, less tolerated, version claims that Tyronde conspired with the Heliarch of the Temple of the Sun to murder the old King and usurp his throne. In this version, the Westerlands used to be a diverse place of wonder where peoples of all creeds could live together in peace and harmony. The Tyrant and his Temple have demolished this society, forcing cohesion on the populace and banishing or outright slaughtering any and all who resist. Taxes are higher than ever, public executions are up, and children are sacrificed on massive pyres to the burning deity of the sun-worshipers.

The truth? Who knows. But you certainly know which version you subscribe to.

The Westerlands, or the Sunset Lands as they’re sometimes called, is a realm with a long and complicated history. The Kingdom, now unified under His Majesty King Tyronde of Vortigern, was once a sprawling mess of minor feuding territories where a multitude of races and cultures coexisted in an uneasy balance. Dragon riders kept watch from the snow capped peaks of the Boreal Mountains, elven druids danced in the moonlit groves of the Sylvan Forests, dwarves delved deep into the dark caverns of the Underworld, and giants roamed the rocky Highlands in search of fallen stars. A thousand gods and spirits, great and small, rivalled for worship in an unending cycle of conflict and peace. The chaos (or freedom, if you’re so inclined) ended with the death of the old King and the purging fires of the Unification Wars. Under the Sigil of the Sun, the King (by some referred to as the Tyrant) brought law and order (or death and destruction) to the Westerlands. They proclaimed One King, One God, and One Tradition, casting everything else aside. Today, remnants of the old ways linger in faraway corners of the world, hiding from the scorching light of the Holy Sun in the shade and the dark.

The land itself is still the same, with its rolling hills, high mountains, deep valleys, flowing rivers and calm lakes. The ruins of the old world linger, teeming with secrets and mysteries, and the old magic still permeates everything, no matter how hard the King and his Temple tries to smother it out. Civilization is spreading, however, one day at a time, threatening to overtake the wilderness as time goes by.

The Westerlands have always been a vast and diverse place, home to a plethora of more or less civilized races and peoples. The predominant race of the New Order under King Tyronde are the humans, who’s civilization previously ranked among the lesser ones of the land. They have expanded a lot in the decades since the White Tiger ascended the throne, and keep pushing the boundaries of other peoples territories.

Along with humans, the Westerlands are populated by elves, dwarves, orcs, and halflings, to name a few. These races are often divided into separate clans and peoples, derived from differances in culture and creed. Wood Elves, for instance, live in close connection with nature in the great forests of the world and see themselves as separate from the High Elves, who construct high towers and concern themselves with the skies and stars. Grey Dwarves, masters of stone and steel, have little in common with the Hill Dwarves practicing Runic Magic in the highlands. The Clan Orcs, who perfect the arts of martial prowess in secret fortified monasteries, want nothing to do with the Wild Orcs who pillage and burn along the coasts. The Hobbits, living in hidden close-knit communities in the wilds, can’t understand the nature of the Gnomes, solitary halflings who live as caretakers of mills, farmsteads and such in other peoples settlements.

There are other, less widespread races and peoples, too. The Naga of the Underworld waters, the Giants of the Highlands, the Fauns of the Forests, etc. Who knows what other beings are out there, among the forgotten places of the world?

Full Character Name

Human/Elf/Orc/Dwarf/Halfling/Whatever

Male/Female/Whatever

Character Age (Nothing Stupid)

Hair/Eyes/Skin/Length/Weight/Build/Clothes/Whatever

Behavior/Quirks/Likes/Dislikes/Whatever

Parents/Childhood/Education/Adulthood/Livelihood/Crimes against the Kingdom/Downfall/Whatever

Skills/Powers/Training/Whatever

Fears/Vulnerabilities/Vices/Whatever

The Stuff your Character checked in with (Nothing Stupid)

Whatever

Holgarth Half-Blood, King o' the Hills and the High Places

Half-Giant

Male

35

Hair Shoulder length, coal black
Eyes Dark and challenging
Skin Tanned, weather worn, tattooed, scarred
Length 200cm / 6ft
Weight 120kg / 265lbs
Build Heavily muscular, broad chest, straight back
Clothes Loincloth and boots, all leather

Say one thing for the King o' the Hills, say he's a hard bastard. Holgarth is focused to the point that he is sometimes percieved as humorless by other people. He's infamous for his fiery temper, judging quickly and harshly. Once Holgarth has set his mind on something it is hard, if not impossible, to sway him from his course. This stubborness of character doubles as bravery in battle, which he persues fearlessly when given the chance. Holgarth is that man that fighting men dread having to face, the kind that smiles and licks the blood of his teeth after you've punched him square in the face.

Holgarths philosophy can be quickly summed up as "Might makes Right". If you can take a thing, it is yours. If you can force an opponent to submit with violence, your position is the superior one. In his mind, violence is the supreme authority from which all other authorities are derived. This belief has bestowed him with a somewhat surprising respect for King Tyronde, whose force conquered Hogarths own. He is not one to submit, however, having vowed revenge and intending to collect Tyrondes head one day. He looks forward to the struggle with all his heart.

Bearing this in mind, one could be led to believe that Holgarth is nothing more than a mindless, bloodthirsty brute. Nothing could be further from the truth. The King o' the Hills and the High Places is a cunning man; perhaps not learned, but in possession of an uncanny guile forged from years and years of wars and battles. Holgarth knows that telling a man you will kill him does not make it so. The true warrior hides his blade in the grass and strikes when least expected. All in all, the Half-Blood is a very dangerous man to count among your enemies.

Holgarth was born to certain stars by uncertain parents under a bloodied moon somewhere in the High Places of the Westerlands. His mother, a human whose name has been lost to history, died giving birth to the giant baby. The abomination was quickly discarded by the tribe she belonged to, put in the wilderness to be eaten by wolves. They had not counted on Holgarths father to care for his offspring, but he did. The stars told of a promising future for the youngling, and the giant took him on to explore what destiny had in store. Not much is known about Holgarths formative years, but the rumor is that his giant father fed him blood instead of the mothers milk he was robbed of.

Many years later, Holgarth returned to his mothers tribe. She had been of noble blood, and the Half-Blood came demanding his position as chieftain of the tribe. They flatly refused, and so it came to be that Holgarth slew the twelve men that dared challenge his claim.

Skills/Powers/Training/Whatever

Fears/Vulnerabilities/Vices/Whatever

The Stuff your Character checked in with (Nothing Stupid)

Whatever

His Majesty King Tyronde of Vortigern, alias the White Tiger, is the current ruler of the Westerlands. He is celebrated far and wide as a hero for having defeated his evil older brother, the Fallen King, who consorted with demons and preyed upon the populace. Under his reign, the people of the Westerlands have enjoyed peace and prosperity like never before throughout history. Together with the Temple of the Sun, he has ousted the old false gods of the heathens and unified the kingdom under one faith and tradition. Truly, there has never been a King like him.

If you believe the official story, that is.

Another, less tolerated, version claims that Tyronde conspired with the Heliarch of the Temple of the Sun to murder the old King and usurp his throne. In this version, the Westerlands used to be a diverse place of wonder where peoples of all creeds could live together in peace and harmony. The Tyrant and his Temple have demolished this society, forcing cohesion on the populace and banishing or outright slaughtering any and all who resist. Taxes are higher than ever, public executions are up, and children are sacrificed on massive pyres to the burning deity of the sun-worshipers.

The truth? Who knows. But you certainly know which version you subscribe to.

The Westerlands, or the Sunset Lands as they’re sometimes called, is a realm with a long and complicated history. The Kingdom, now unified under His Majesty King Tyronde of Vortigern, was once a sprawling mess of minor feuding territories where a multitude of races and cultures coexisted in an uneasy balance. Dragon riders kept watch from the snow capped peaks of the Boreal Mountains, elven druids danced in the moonlit groves of the Sylvan Forests, dwarves delved deep into the dark caverns of the Underworld, and giants roamed the rocky Highlands in search of fallen stars. A thousand gods and spirits, great and small, rivalled for worship in an unending cycle of conflict and peace. The chaos (or freedom, if you’re so inclined) ended with the death of the old King and the purging fires of the Unification Wars. Under the Sigil of the Sun, the King (by some referred to as the Tyrant) brought law and order (or death and destruction) to the Westerlands. They proclaimed One King, One God, and One Tradition, casting everything else aside. Today, remnants of the old ways linger in faraway corners of the world, hiding from the scorching light of the Holy Sun in the shade and the dark.

The land itself is still the same, with its rolling hills, high mountains, deep valleys, flowing rivers and calm lakes. The ruins of the old world linger, teeming with secrets and mysteries, and the old magic still permeates everything, no matter how hard the King and his Temple tries to smother it out. Civilization is spreading, however, one day at a time, threatening to overtake the wilderness as time goes by.

The Westerlands have always been a vast and diverse place, home to a plethora of more or less civilized races and peoples. The predominant race of the New Order under King Tyronde are the humans, who’s civilization previously ranked among the lesser ones of the land. They have expanded a lot in the decades since the White Tiger ascended the throne, and keep pushing the boundaries of other peoples territories.

Along with humans, the Westerlands are populated by elves, dwarves, orcs, and halflings, to name a few. These races are often divided into separate clans and peoples, derived from differances in culture and creed. Wood Elves, for instance, live in close connection with nature in the great forests of the world and see themselves as separate from the High Elves, who construct high towers and concern themselves with the skies and stars. Grey Dwarves, masters of stone and steel, have little in common with the Hill Dwarves practicing Runic Magic in the highlands. The Clan Orcs, who perfect the arts of martial prowess in secret fortified monasteries, want nothing to do with the Wild Orcs who pillage and burn along the coasts. The Hobbits, living in hidden close-knit communities in the wilds, can’t understand the nature of the Gnomes, solitary halflings who live as caretakers of mills, farmsteads and such in other peoples settlements.

There are other, less widespread races and peoples, too. The Naga of the Underworld waters, the Giants of the Highlands, the Fauns of the Forests, etc. Who knows what other beings are out there, among the forgotten places of the world?

Ah, gather 'round, young ones, and let me spin you a yarn from the days of my youth, when the Westerlands were a tapestry of untamed wilderness and bustling towns, and of the spirit of adventure that once thrived like wildfire.

My tale begins as I, a brash and wide-eyed wanderer, set out with a motley band of companions to find Lewen-Lar - the fabled Stargem, a precious stone said to possess the light of the very stars that fell from the heavens. Among these companions were Thurs, a dwarven smith whose hammer could shape winds as well as metal; Simbel, an elven mage with a laughter like the spring rain; and Jaren, a human warrior poet whose words and words could soothe savage beasts or stir hearts to courage.

Our journey led us through the twisting paths of the Sylvan Forests, under the shadowed boughs where the light danced with the darkness. Simbel taught us to speak in whispers to the trees, and they whispered back, guiding our steps. Thurs found rare ores in the roots of the ancient woods, and at night by the fire, he forged tokens of friendship for each of us, binding us together.

We scaled the frost-kissed peaks of the Boreal Mountains, where the wind told tales of ages past. Jarens voice wrestled with the howling blizzards, and each note he sang seemed to stave off the cold, drawing us closer around the fire, our laughter a beacon in the frozen night. Here, in the heart of winters realm, we learned the warmth of camaraderie against the cold of the world.

In the depths of the Underworld caverns, our path was lit not by Simbels magic, nor by the glint of Thurs forged metal, but by the glow of the friendship that had kindled among us. We never did find Lewen-Lar, but as we emerged from the darkness into the light of dawn, with empty hands but full hearts, we realized the truth of our quest.

You see, my young friends, the treasure we sought wasn't buried under earth or hidden in the starlit sky. It was woven through the very journey we undertook, in the tales we gathered and the bonds we forged. The Westerlands have changed, the old paths overgrown and the memories dimmed, but remember this: it’s not the destination that forges a wanderer's spirit; it’s the journey itself, and the companions who walk it with you.

So cherish these stories, for as long as the paths wind and the stars shine, the journey is never truly over.

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In this game we take on the roles of a group of adventurers who goes on a quest which will take them from one end to the other of the Westerlands, a sprawling realm of diverse kingdoms and cultures. But - and here's the kicker - the main quest will not be the focus of the game. One thing that has always stood out to me about good RPGs are the companion quests. They flesh out the world, develop the characters, and give more meaning to the events of the rest of the game, sometimes to the point of becoming more important than the main quest itself. That is what I strive to create with this game: a fun and meaningful way to explore our characters and their relations with a typical epic adventure as the backdrop.

To accomplish this, I've thought up an idea that I find intruiging. I will not be the sole GM of the game. Instead, we will all take turns being the storyteller. When creating your character, you will also get the chance to create a place in the Westerlands where your character has history. It could be a bustling city, a dark forest or an ancient ruin; whatever it is, your character has business there, and it happens to be along the way of our journey. When we get to that place, your character becomes the protagonist - and you, the GM. I want all of you to have a lot of creative freedom in this process, within the framework of my setting of course.

When applying, post your character in the thread as usual for evaluation. At the same time, send me a PM detailing the place and the business your character has there, and we'll discuss it!

As for the tone and feel of the game, I like to keep it fun and light hearted on the surface, but more complex and possibly dark when you go a little deeper.

A few guidelines for character creation:

• You will use and fill out the provided CS. You may tweak the formatting if you wish.
• You will stick with fantasy races, either the usual ones or something more exotic. Nothing stupid, though.
• You will create a typical hero or likeable anti-hero; chaotic evil monsters or full on psychopaths are not what I’m looking for.
• Your character will be of a considerable power-level, but nothing stupid. Could it take on a band of bandits and prevail? Not a problem. Could it solo a dragon? Not a chance.

There is one general rule that all players of the game must adhere to, and that is the Hierarchy of Content. Every post and actions within said post should strive to uphold this hierarchy. It goes as follows:

• The Story comes first. Try to keep your post in line with where the story is right now, and where it is going. Don't post a development that breaks with the story, like one-shotting an apparent Big Bad or going off on an own adventure. Be smart. And, if you're uncertain as how to proceed, just ask. We can discuss it in the OOC.
• The Group comes second. This isn't a one man show. We're collaborating a story here, so let's try to make sure that everybody has fun and gets something out of it. Our characters might turn into rivals, and perhaps even fight, but we as players should always strive to find solutions that work well for the group. Bear in mind that the group needs to prioritize the story.
• The Character comes last. Stay in character. What would it do, given the current circumstance? Remember, you're not playing yourself. Your character might have moral inclinations and goals that differ from your own. Use this to your and your fellow players advantage. Don't, however, go against the group. And don't go against the story.

If you follow this hierarchy, there should be no problems. You will have lots of freedom in this game; I will try to interfere as little as possible. My role as general GM will be to introduce you to the quest and help the GM of the current arc, but I don't want you looking to me for every NPC interaction or story development. Again, if you're unsure, just ask and we'll discuss it. Most NPCs are free game to do with as you wish. The more important ones will be obvious, and may require a bit more finesse in dealing with. That will generally be up to the GM of the current arc, however. If your character acts against another PC, however, the rules are slighty different. You may not control other PC characters. Instead, you must describe a) what your character tries to do to them and b) what it hopes to accomplish with that action. It is up to the other player to decide how their character reacts. Remember the hierarchy.

I expect every player to contribute a minimum of 1 post per week. If you know that you're going to miss the mark, I expect you to communicate this in the OOC. An unannounced absence of two weeks will result in forfeiting the character, which will be written out of the game by the GM. Similarly, if a player wants to, or has to, opt out of the game for any reason, I would strongly like to encourage making a final post in which the character is written out of the game, lest I have to do it for you. If you are the GM of the current arc and have to drop out, I will assume control of the story until it's the next players turn to mantle GMhood.

Interested? Great! Let me know below, and apply with a character!

Sylvaine de Vermeille

Human

Female

32

Hair: Shoulder length tousled bob, jet black, silky smooth
Eyes: Emerald green
Skin: Pale, smooth
Length: 5'10", 162 cm
Weight: 110lbs, 50kg
Build: Slender, agile, wiry
Clothes: Worn leather outfit, ragged half-cape, high boots

Sylvaine possesses a deadly mix of absolute charm and severe narcissism, which often leads people to misjudge and underestimate her during social interactions. Her charm is almost intoxicating, with a warm and inviting demeanor that draws people in like moths to a flame. She knows how to use her looks and wit to her advantage, leaving a trail of admirers in her wake. However, this beguiling exterior masks a deep-seated self-absorption, making her interactions highly manipulative. She enjoys the power she holds over others, reveling in the control she exerts with her charisma, all while ensuring that those around her remain blissfully unaware of her true nature.

Beneath her charming façade lies a core of indifferent ruthlessness that can surface in an instant, catching even the most perceptive off guard. Sylvaine's true self is cold and calculating, driven by an insatiable greed and a relentless lust for power and pleasure. She navigates her world with a cunning precision, always strategizing her next move to ensure she remains on top. This duality makes her incredibly dangerous, as she can switch from being a charming companion to a merciless adversary without warning. Her unpredictability in social interactions is both her greatest strength and the source of her most significant peril, as those who cross her path rarely see her true intentions until it is too late.

As a friend, Sylvaine is unpredictable at best, her loyalties shifting with the winds of her desires. She can be fiercely loyal one moment, only to betray those closest to her if it serves her purpose. This volatility makes her a difficult ally, as her actions are driven more by self-interest than genuine affection or camaraderie. On the other hand, as an enemy, she is like a twitchy snake, always ready to strike when least expected. Her vengeful nature knows no bounds, and she takes pleasure in the suffering of those who dare oppose her. Sylvaine's complex personality ensures that she remains an enigma to all but herself, a master of manipulation and a force to be reckoned with in any social sphere.

Sylvaine's father was the captain of a company of sellswords, and from a young age, she was her father's girl, absorbing his customs and those of his rough-and-tumble company. Growing up on the campaign trail was harsh, especially for a little girl surrounded by hardened mercenaries, and she quickly realized that she had to adapt to survive. She learned to hide and steal, skills that were essential for navigating the dangerous world she inhabited. As she grew older, these skills evolved into lying and deceiving, eventually leading her to master the art of combat and killing. Every vice or dark deed imaginable has either been committed by Sylvaine or seriously contemplated, shaping her into a figure of both fear and respect.

Life with her father was a brutal education in the ways of war and treachery. When her father lost command of his company and succumbed to drinking, Sylvaine saw it as a weakness she could not afford to tolerate. In a cold, calculated move, she left him to die, taking whatever possessions of value he had left. This act of betrayal marked the final step in her transformation from a vulnerable girl to a ruthless survivor. Striking out on her own, Sylvaine quickly made a name for herself as a sellsword, brigand, and occasional assassin. Her fickle nature often landed her in precarious situations, but her cunning and resourcefulness always enabled her to escape unscathed, further solidifying her reputation as a master of survival.

Her downfall, however, came when she attempted to assassinate the Heliarch during a ceremony, disguised as a priest on a mission from a rival faith amidst the chaos of the wars. Her plan was nearly flawless, but she was thwarted at the last moment by the Warden herself, who happened to be present. This failure led to her capture and imprisonment in the Maw, a place of despair and darkness. Yet, even in captivity, Sylvaine's mind is sharp and her will unbroken. She spends her days plotting her revenge, waiting for the opportunity to escape and exact her vengeance on those who thwarted her. Her time in the Maw has only hardened her resolve, making her an even more formidable adversary when she eventually breaks free.

Take what you can, give nothing back: Sylvaine's survival and success are rooted in her unwavering ability to seize every opportunity for personal gain while offering nothing in return. This talent is a direct reflection of the ruthless world she grew up in, where every advantage had to be taken to ensure survival. She excels in identifying and exploiting weaknesses in others, whether through theft, manipulation, or betrayal. Her cunning allows her to navigate complex social and political landscapes, always extracting the maximum benefit for herself. This talent has made her both feared and respected, as those who encounter her quickly learn that she is not one to be trifled with. Sylvaine's relentless drive for personal gain ensures that she remains a step ahead of her adversaries, always prepared to take what she can without a hint of remorse.

Sword and Sorcery: A lethal combination of physical prowess and arcane knowledge sets Sylvaine apart from other mercenaries. Her combat skills are second to none, honed through years of practice and countless battles. She wields her sword with deadly precision, capable of taking down multiple opponents with ease. But what truly makes her formidable is her mastery of sorcery. She has learned to weave spells that enhance her combat abilities, allowing her to strike with supernatural speed and strength. Her magical prowess also extends to offensive and defensive spells, making her a versatile and unpredictable fighter. This blend of swordsmanship and sorcery makes Sylvaine a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, capable of facing even the most daunting foes with confidence.

Femme Fatale: Sylvaine's charm and beauty are as dangerous as her combat skills, making her a true femme fatale. She has perfected the art of seduction, using her allure to manipulate those around her to her advantage. Her ability to enthrall and deceive allows her to infiltrate high society and secure information or resources that would be otherwise inaccessible. Men and women alike fall prey to her charms, often underestimating her true intentions until it is too late. Sylvaine's seductive prowess is not just a means to an end but a weapon in its own right, allowing her to disarm and destroy her enemies without ever drawing her sword. This talent makes her an invaluable asset in espionage and intrigue, where a well-placed whisper can be as deadly as a blade.

Center of the Universe: Sylvaine's greatest flaw is her overwhelming ego, which often blinds her to potential dangers and leads her to underestimate her opponents. Her narcissism makes her believe she is invincible and incapable of making mistakes, which can lead to reckless decisions and unnecessary risks. This overconfidence can be exploited by enemies who understand how to play to her vanity, luring her into traps or goading her into actions that jeopardize her plans. Sylvaine's inability to recognize her own limitations is a critical vulnerability that can lead to her downfall if not checked.

Greed is Good: Sylvaine's insatiable lust for power and pleasure drives many of her actions, often leading her into precarious situations. Her need for control and dominance makes her prone to overreach, pushing her into conflicts or schemes that spiral out of control. This addiction can cloud her judgment, making her more impulsive and less strategic in her decisions. Enemies who recognize this flaw can manipulate her by offering tantalizing opportunities for power, knowing she is likely to take the bait without considering the long-term consequences. Her relentless pursuit of power can also alienate potential allies, leaving her isolated and vulnerable.

Betrayal begins with Trust: Sylvaine's past is marked by betrayal, both given and received, which has left deep emotional scars. This makes her deeply mistrustful and paranoid, always expecting others to turn on her as she has done to them. Her inability to trust can sabotage relationships with potential allies and create unnecessary enemies. This paranoia can be exploited by foes who plant seeds of doubt and discord, knowing she will be quick to suspect treachery. Additionally, her history of betrayal haunts her, leading to moments of hesitation or self-doubt, particularly when she confronts situations reminiscent of her past actions, such as abandoning her father. This psychological burden can impair her decision-making and leave her vulnerable at critical moments.

Nothing, apart from her outfit.

In a time long past, the world was a place of wonder and magic, ruled by powerful sorcerous lords whose arrogance knew no bounds. Their unchecked hubris led to the Manaburn, a cataclysmic event that shattered the very fabric of reality. The skies now crackle with dark energies, and the land is a twisted shadow of its former self. Man and beast alike are transmuted into grotesque horrors, monstrosities that roam the wilderness, threatening the fragile remnants of human civilization.

Scattered across the perilous landscape are small holds, pockets of human resilience clinging to life amid the ruins. Each day is a relentless struggle against the treacherous nature of the world, a fight for survival against overwhelming odds. Yet, amidst the chaos and despair, a single beacon of hope endures: the Hexward.

The Hexward is an order of knights, forged in the fires of adversity and bound by a strict code of honor. These warriors and scholars are the last line of defense against the encroaching darkness. From their formidable stronghold, the castle of Aldholt, they wage a relentless war against the twisted abominations and rogue magics that threaten humanity.

Players will take their place among these hardened defenders, tasked with the sacred duty of reclaiming the world from the abyss. As Hexward knights, they will confront horrors both monstrous and human, venturing into the heart of the cursed lands to tame the forces of magic and eradicate all threats to civilization. In this bleak and unforgiving world, their courage and resolve will be tested at every turn, but the survival of mankind depends on their unyielding determination.

Welcome to a world where magic has become a curse, and only the bravest can hope to restore what was lost. Welcome to the realm of the Hexward.

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Each squad in the Hexward is comprised of four knights, each with a specific role and purpose. There are four different classes of knights in the Hexward: Knight Combatants, Knight Scholars, Knight Sentinels and Knight Heralds.

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In the bleak aftermath of the Manaburn, where chaos reigns and monstrosities roam unchecked, the Knight Combatants of the Hexward stand as living titans. Clad in the legendary Aegis armors, these juggernauts of steel are more than mere men; they are walking fortresses, augmented by powerful enchantments that grant them superhuman strength and agility. Without these mystical enhancements, the weight of the Aegis would be unbearable, but with them, the Knight Combatants move with the grace of warriors and the power of giants.

In their hands, they wield the infamous Firebrands—colossal two-handed swords that resemble sharpened slabs of metal more than traditional weapons. These massive blades, impossibly heavy and enchanted to ignite upon striking an abomination, are symbols of the Hexward's indomitable spirit. Each swing is a blaze of purifying fire, a burning promise to cleanse the world of the twisted horrors birthed by the Manaburn.

Knight Combatants are the spearhead of any Hexward mission, the first to charge into battle and the last to leave the field. Their presence alone can turn the tide of a desperate skirmish, their Firebrands carving a path through the darkness. They are the embodiment of raw power and unyielding resolve, the iron wall against which the horrors of the cursed wilds break and falter.

Each Knight Combatant has undergone grueling trials, both physical and mystical, to earn their place within the Aegis. They have been tempered in the fires of combat, their bodies and spirits honed to withstand the most harrowing of conditions. They bear the scars of countless battles, each mark a testament to their unbreakable will and their unwavering duty to protect humanity.

In a world shattered and remade by arcane catastrophe, the Knight Combatants of the Hexward are the guardians of hope, the living bulwark against the nightmarish forces that seek to consume what remains. They are the roaring inferno in the heart of the storm, the champions who will stop at nothing to reclaim their world.

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In the shattered remnants of a world once dominated by arcane wonders, the Knight Scholars of the Hexward are the torchbearers of forbidden knowledge and ancient secrets. These loremasters delve into the enigmatic depths of the Mana, seeking to understand and harness its power while adhering to a strict code that forbids them from channeling the dark energies directly. Instead, they wield a vast array of enchanted items and alchemical gadgets, their minds as sharp and deadly as any blade.

The Knight Scholars are the intellectual might of the Hexward, dedicated to unlocking the mysteries of the Manaburn and finding ways to use magic to humanity's advantage without succumbing to its corrupting influence. In their secluded libraries and laboratories, they pore over crumbling tomes and arcane manuscripts, their fingers stained with the residue of alchemical experiments. Their work is meticulous and often perilous, for even the slightest miscalculation can lead to catastrophic results.

Among their arsenal are wands that can channel bursts of elemental fury, potions that can heal or harm, and other specialized enchanted items crafted with precision and care. These tools are the result of years of relentless study and experimentation, each one a testament to the Knight Scholar's mastery over the arcane arts. In the heat of battle, they are the strategists and tacticians, using their knowledge to turn the tide and support their comrades with potent magical effects.

The path of the Knight Scholar is one of constant vigilance and discipline. They walk a razor's edge, ever aware of the seductive lure of dark power that led to the world's downfall. Their code is both a shield and a burden, a reminder of the terrible price of arrogance and the sacred duty they bear to prevent history from repeating itself. Through their wisdom and restraint, they aim to harness the Mana not as a weapon of destruction, but as a force for healing and protection.

In the grim expanse of a post-apocalyptic world, the Knight Scholars stand as beacons of enlightenment. Their quest for knowledge and their unyielding commitment to the Hexward's principles make them invaluable in the fight against the twisted horrors that plague the land. They are the seekers of truth, the bearers of light in the darkness, and the architects of a future where magic serves mankind once more, rather than destroying it.

The Knight Scholars are the quiet strength of the Hexward, their brilliance illuminating the path forward in a world consumed by shadows. They are the minds that shape destiny, forging hope from the ashes of the past.

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Amidst the ruins of a world torn asunder by the Manaburn, the Knight Sentinels of the Hexward are the silent watchers and vigilant rangers, masters of the wilds where darkness festers and dangers lurk. These skilled scouts and trackers are the eyes and ears of humanity's last bastions, tasked with navigating the cursed landscapes and ensuring the tenuous survival of the scattered holds.

The Knight Sentinels are unparalleled in their mastery of stealth and bushcraft. Their knowledge of the land is encyclopedic, from the safest paths to the hidden dangers that could spell doom for the unprepared. Clad in armor designed for agility and silence, they move like shadows through the wilderness, their presence known only when they choose to reveal themselves. In a world where twisted abominations and ruthless brigands roam free, the Sentinels are the unseen guardians, ever watchful and ready to strike.

Equipped with an array of tools tailored for survival and combat in the wild, Knight Sentinels wield bows of exceptional craftsmanship, their arrows striking true from the darkest cover. Their proficiency with traps and snares can turn the terrain itself into a weapon, ensnaring and disabling foes before they even realize the danger. Every Sentinel carries a survival kit filled with essential supplies and enchanted items, ensuring they can endure even the harshest conditions.

The Sentinels' role extends beyond mere survival; they are the lifeline of communication and support between the isolated pockets of human civilization. They brave the treacherous roads and overgrown trails, keeping the lines of trade and information open. In times of crisis, a Sentinel’s knowledge of the terrain and the threats it harbors can mean the difference between life and death for those they protect.

Knight Sentinels embody resilience and adaptability. Their training is as grueling as it is comprehensive, forging them into consummate survivalists and deadly combatants. They learn to read the signs of the land, to anticipate the movements of both beast and man, and to strike with lethal precision. Their senses are honed to a razor’s edge, allowing them to detect even the faintest hint of danger long before it becomes a threat.

In the desolate expanses of a post-apocalyptic world, the Knight Sentinels are the guardians of the wilderness and the protectors of the pathways that connect humanity's remnants. They are the silent predators that keep the night at bay, the scouts who ensure safe passage, and the rangers who fight to preserve the flickering flame of civilization.

The Knight Sentinels are the unsung heroes of the Hexward, their vigilance and courage safeguarding the fragile threads of human survival. They are the wardens of the wild, the watchful protectors who stand between humanity and the encroaching darkness.

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In the shattered realm where humanity clings to survival, the Knight Heralds of the Hexward are the living embodiment of order and hope, the harbingers of the Hexward’s will and the unyielding enforcers of its code. These knights are more than warriors; they are leaders, diplomats, and judges, bearing the weight of humanity’s future on their armored shoulders.

Knight Heralds are the keepers of lore and customs, their minds as sharp as their blades. Trained in the ancient tenets and arts of leadership, they are the guiding lights for their comrades and the scattered holds they protect. Their deep understanding of the fractured societies that dot the cursed landscape allows them to navigate the complex web of alliances and enmities that could mean the difference between unity and downfall.

Clad in armor that gleams with both strength and authority, the Knight Heralds are a formidable presence on the battlefield and in council chambers. Their weapons are not just tools of war but symbols of their righteous duty, each strike and parry a testament to their mastery and their unwavering commitment to their cause.

The Knight Heralds are skilled orators and negotiators, their words capable of inspiring hope or quelling dissent. They are trained to mediate disputes, enforce laws, and deliver justice with a firm yet fair hand. In a world where survival often hinges on cooperation, their ability to unite people under a common cause is invaluable. They are the voice of reason in times of turmoil, the peacemakers who can turn potential conflicts into alliances.

On the battlefield, Knight Heralds are the rallying points for their fellow knights. Their presence alone can bolster morale and turn the tide of combat. They lead from the front, their commands clear and decisive, their strategies forged from experience and a deep understanding of warfare. When a Knight Herald raises their banner, it is a beacon of hope for the beleaguered and a signal of doom for the enemies of humanity.

But the role of a Knight Herald extends beyond battle and diplomacy. They are also the spiritual leaders of the Hexward, the keepers of its sacred traditions and its moral compass. Their lives are dedicated to the principles of honor, justice, and sacrifice. Through their actions and their words, they inspire others to uphold these ideals, to strive for a better world despite the overwhelming darkness.

In a post-apocalyptic world fraught with danger and despair, the Knight Heralds are the flame that refuses to be extinguished. They are the symbols of humanity’s resilience and determination, the leaders who guide their people through the darkest of times. With their unwavering resolve and their steadfast commitment to the Hexward’s mission, they stand as the bulwark against chaos and the torchbearers of a new dawn.

The Knight Heralds are the heart and soul of the Hexward, the champions of justice and the protectors of hope. They are the light in the darkness, the leaders who will not rest until the world is reclaimed from the shadows and humanity stands united once more.

Character's Name: Beorgric Heldenhammer, known as Blackbeard

Race: Dwarf

Physical Description: Short and stocky, muscular rather than fat. Big braided black beard. Grizzled appearance. Wears rough wool and leather clothes. Wields a big falchion.

General Backstory: Was born as the oldest son and heir to the chieftan of the Red Mountain clan. When his father passed, his uncle usurped the throne by concocting a plot in which Beorgric was falsely accused of losing a sacred dwarven relic, the Fist of Durin Heldenhammer. Beorgric was exiled for the transgression, branded as a traitor and sentenced not to tread on dwarven soil until he repays his debt, on pain of death. He travelled far away from the lands of his kin, to the one place they wouldn't go - the sea. There, he joined a crew in search of treasure and has spent the past decade adventuring, trying to amass a fortune large enough to regain his honor among his people. He has risen to the position of quartermaster - a job that suits him well, given his dwarven affinity for gold and riches.

Special Abilities: Sturdy and strong, brave and headstrong, good with gold, can see perfectly in the dark, can't swim.

Personal Goal: Buy his way back into his clan and exact revenge on his uncle.

Full Character Name

Human/Elf/Orc/Dwarf/Halfling/Other

Male/Female/Other

Character Age (Nothing Silly)

Hair/Eyes/Skin/Length/Weight/Build/Clothes/Other

Behavior/Quirks/Likes/Dislikes/Other

Parents/Childhood/Education/Adulthood/Livelihood/Recent history/Other

Skills/Powers/Training/Other

Fears/Vulnerabilities/Vices/Other

Notable possessions (nothing silly)

Whatever else you can think of that isn't covered in the other categories