[CHAR] AGE OF DAWN

[Dead Cruiser]

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

DOLORES BRAISE

FERNANDO SCORDATO

HADAR MIZRAHI

DHATRU

AETHELSTEINN

ROSA MARIANNE

[Dead Cruiser]

Dolores Braise, the Crimson Maiden

"The absence of faith is the mark of the weak."

Name: Dolores Braise

Age: 19

Gender: Female

Appearance: A young woman like many in this harsh new Age, strong of body and wiry of build. Her coloration- fair skin, blue eyes, hair like fire- she inherited from her mother, a woman of Hyperborean descent. Her tall, sturdy frame and sharp features are owed to her father, a man of the fertile lowlands that were once part of the Kingdom of Thule. A plain girl by most appearances, her lack of femininity does little to disguise her average looks. Dolores cares little for finery or fashion, usually dressing in men's clothes and wearing her father's armor into battle. She prefers to keep her bright red hair cropped short, but long months on campaign can allow it to grow into a fiery mane (which may be hacked off hastily as soon as it becomes a nuisance).

Personality: Dolores often betrays the expectations of those she meets; smallfolk that have heard the stories of the Crimson Maiden, and expect a figure of unblemished purity, extruding saintly virtue. Rather, Dolores is a woman that has become wise beyond her years, much too quickly. Once filled with idealism and goodwill, years of battle have worn her greatly, and her demeanor is mostly brusque and intolerant. Even so, her experience on the battlefield has hardened her heart and tempered her resolve; she is filled with quiet courage and grim determination. Faith still drives her, though it is often all she has to rely on. Faith in her cause, faith in her comrades, and faith in herself.

History: The earliest years of the Age of Dawn were rife with chaos and discord, even as the terrible threats of the Years of Dusk subsided. As the rule of law fell with the empires of the Iron Kingdoms, anarchy reigned. Villages struggling to survive on meager resources formed militias, and battled against their neighbors out of desperation and paranoia. Nobles eager to accrue wealth or consolidate power sacked cities and plundered palaces and monuments.

In the region formerly occupied by Thule, the state church of Ignis Divine provided a pillar of stability and a beacon of hope to the beleaguered peoples of the land. Monasteries and temples, many built by the Atlanteans centuries ago, served as makeshift fortresses to ward against raiders or monsters. Monks and clerics dedicated temple gardens to the growth of crops that could feed the poor and displaced. Precious relics and hoarded treasures were bartered away for protection against scavenging armies and for such resources grain and livestock. Truly never did the temple fires burn as brightly, nor did the chapels ring as loudly with prayer as in those desperate years.

Knights and men at arms that survived the Years of Dusk and found themselves without lords to serve (be they dead or proved unworthy) often flocked to these isolated keeps and abbeys. In these places they found hope to override the despair that threatened to consume them. This hope turned to zeal, as many found no more worthy cause than to serve Ignis Divine and lend their strength to defending these bastions of light. With scarcely enough resources to keep a small villages' population, much less a standing army, these knights of divine inspiration could not stay at the temples for long, and would roam from one to the next many times over several years. These circuitous journeys became holy pilgrimages to the knights, who would cleanse the land of any taint or injustice encountered in their path. Such was the birth of the Orders Invictus, the Knightly Orders of the Unconquered Sun.

As the Age of Dawn wore on, small nation-states arose, and the mad frenzy of anarchy following the Years of Dusk began to settle. While some claimed patronage to strange and malefic gods, many paid at least partial due to the god of their forebears, and accepted Ignis Divine as their holy patron. Some of the Orders Invictus allied themselves with these nascent kingdoms, providing strength of arms (and a degree of moral high ground) to any nation that accepted their god and could keep them fed and housed. If a ruler could find sufficient justification to paint a rival as being corrupted or heretical in some manner or another, a crusade could be brought against them, calling the banners of Orders from leagues around.

One such Order was known as the Order of the Crimson Shield, so named for the color that adorned their heraldry. A pilgrim Order that claimed tenuous fealty to small kingdom of Poitain in the grassy lowlands of Borea. One of the oldest Orders, yet unremarkable in its size or battle record, among its knights was one Rouland Braise. As was common among pilgrim knights, he had taken a wife while on campaign, a woman of northern blood named Leyna. She and their two daughters, Dolores and Charlotte, traveled as a part of the Order's entourage, helping where they could by cooking meals or caring for horses.

Deep in the black forests of central Borea, tragedy struck the Order of the Crimson Shield. A pack of ravenous mutants broke into the Order's encampment, barreling past their sentries and perimeter. While the knights fought their hardest to push the monsters back, the few that escaped their swords wreaked havoc in the camp. A beastman nearly ten feet tall attacked the camp of the Braise family, and though Rouland fought bravely to defend his family, he was struck down by the monster. As her mother and younger sister cowered tearfully, the fourteen-year-old Dolores saw no other choice but to take up her father's sword and stand between them and the mutant. As she held the heavy blade, tears streaming down her face, she was overcome with a sudden delerium. She saw golden visions of victory, premonitions of how she might kill the beast. Screaming with near-insane courage, Dolores acted on what she saw in her visions, and gradually yet surely wore down and finally slew the mutant that had killed her father.

The following morning, as the dead were mourned and buried, Knight-Commander Crydamour, the veteran leader of the Order, personally commended Dolores for her bravery, and out of respect for her and her departed father, allowed her family to stay with his and continue to travel with the Order. However, this was not the end of Dolores' visions. Foreseeing another attack by mutants against a nearby fortress, she petitioned the Knight-Commander to rally the Order to the keep's defense. At first the veteran knight laughed off her predictions, seeing them as the delusions of a young girl deep in grief. However, as a courier arrived with word of the keep under assault, Crydamour mobilized the Order to their relief. He kept Dolores close at his side, and as she had continued visions throughout the battle, he passed on her predictions as orders to his men. The attack was routed with remarkable efficiency, and such was the first battle won by the Crimson Maiden.

Dolores' visions were seen as a gift from Ignis Divine, the girl herself a vessel for the will of the Unconquered Sun. Having been raised to follow the virtues of the Orders Invictus, Dolores committed her gift to the eradication of evil and the protection of the innocent, and was the direct adviser to Crydamour. After over a year on campaign at the side of the Knight-Commander, she was brought before the king of Poitain himself and (after investigation by the High Priory that she was not a with) was knighted, officially joining the Order of the Crimson Shields.

For four years since, Dolores has campaigned against evil, and the Order has been undefeated in battle. Word of the Crimson Maiden has spread across the Iron Kingdoms, some calling her the chosen of Ignis Divine, while others claim her to be a goddess of battle in her own right. While still second to the Order's Knight-Commander, Dolores often takes to the field to issue orders personally. She is even known to fight alongside the other knights, having been trained by them to wield her father's sword that she first took up five years ago. Dolores' gifts serve her in close combat as well as in strategy, though they do not make her invincible, as she has been wounded twice in battle. Despite the success of her crusade, Dolores' youthful optimism and idealism have left her bitter and jaded after years of warfare. She wonders if the battle against evil can ever truly be won, but keeps faith, as it is nearly all she has left.

Journey: Dolores seeks nothing less than the complete purification the Iron Kingdoms from corruption and heresy. She has vowed to bright peace and hope to the long-suffering peoples of this land, even if it must be won with steel and fire.

Ideals:
Faith: Dolores is a woman of faith, having been born into and raised by a religious order. Even as her morals and determination are tested with every battle, the faith she carries in herself and her god carries her forward.

Zeal: Faith is not the only motivation that drives the Crimson Maiden; she also carries a burning hatred for that which is unholy or unlawful. Mercy is a virtue that she does not spare for those at the end of her blade, and while her unquestioning self-righteousness has been flagging for years, she rarely needs justification to end the life of a heretic or mutant.

Purity: The perfection of Ignis Divine can return to the Iron Kingdoms, Dolores is sure of it. Once every mutant is dead and burned, and the head of every heretic sits on a pike, peace and goodness can return to this land.

Victory: Dolores' visions are singular in theme: they show her the path to victory, no matter the cost. Victory rarely comes easily, and must be won through terrible sacrifice, even if the path is known. One must also ponder if a victorious outcome is worth the price one must pay to achieve it.

Holdings: Dolores is effectively the second-in-command of one of the most influential Knightly Orders in the Iron Kingdoms. Aside from the power that extends her, she personally owns an ancestral sword, heraldic shield and suit of armor (fitted to suit her proportions), and a warhorse named Manuel.

[Shorticus]

Theme

General Fernando Scordato, the Lion of Vespania

Name:

Fernando Benedicto Scordato

Age:

43

Gender:

Male

Appearance:

Proud, stately, and rugged: these words are defined by Fernando Scordato. He is an aging man, and perhaps he is not the tallest of warriors one might find, but the way he stands and the way he looks at others tells them he is no mere soldier. He is a leader. He is a legend.

Fernando barely reaches the height of 5'8", but most seem to think he stands closer to six feet. His mustache is full and thick but carefully groomed and swept off to the sides. The general's brown hair comes down in waves, and he keeps it at a little less than neck length. He remains handsome despite his age - a dignified sort of handsome - and has a certain hardness of expression. His skin is no stranger to war, and he has the body of a seasoned soldier, albeit an aging one. His hazel eyes have a sort of gleam to them.

Fernando's armor is impressively crafted and ornate in a practical fashion. His clothes well-kept, and he is all-in-all a very clean, very respectable looking individual. He may not look like a knight, but he does look like be belongs in command.

Personality:

Most who know him would call Fernando "austere" or "cold." They'd call him "serious" at the least. They'd call him "blunt" or "honest to the point of rudeness." The general is all of those things: a man who maintains a sombre, steely air. He speaks his mind openly and frankly, leaving no doubt as to what his beliefs are, and makes commands rather than requests.

This is not to say that Ferdinand wears a perpetual mask of iron. When among people he truly trusts, he is known to lower that shield of coldness he maintains. But even then his gestures and expressions seem to lack passion. He most often expresses weariness or determination, and his anger is a silent anger. His pleasure is a muted sort: a small, soft smile or a quiet chuckle is far more common than any true show of mirth for him. With Fernando, it is the small gestures - the rap of his knuckles upon wood, or the clenching of his fist, the closing of his eyes, or simply a cocked eyebrow - that reveal most about his mood.

The general is an idealist turned pragmatist, a knight in sour armor. He sees the world as a doomed place, yet does not stop trying to fight to make it better. He sees people as callous beings, yet he'll do all in his power to preserve their lives. Perhaps that is why Fernando has earned the trust of his troops. He will not waste the lives of his warriors under any circumstances, and he holds himself to strict a strict moral code. He holds his troops answerable to the same code.

And in the end, Fernando is a man that leads by example. He eschews a great deal of luxuries he might otherwise have so that he can show his men how he expects them to behave. He scoffs at the nobility and their great feasts and ostentatious clothes. Perhaps that is why they hate him so much.

But Fernando's greatest strength mentally is his organization. He is an intelligent man to be sure, but he is also exacting, calculating, and incredibly talented in logistics and numbers. The general's mind is very orderly. His orderliness has served him well.

History:

The Years of Dusk saw the fall of Thule and its grand armies. The knights, the nobility, the king: their power was ruined by the plague. Centuries of kingdom-building were thrown away in the span of ten years. It was the end of one age and the beginning of something new.

But those Years of Dusk were hardest on the poor. Peasants, serfs, merchants: those are the people who suffered most from the disease. Those are the people who starved. So it should not come as a surprise that one man was able to rally the common people together for a rebellion: a prophet named Horatio Acciai. He said that there was a God, Vespos, who loved the people and took pity in their suffering. Horatio would lead them in a bloody revolution, stealing away a large chunk of the kingdom of Thule from the nobles-turned-warlords and creating his own realm: the Holy Republic of Vespania.

The birth of the Vespanian people was not a welcome one in the Iron Kingdoms. Such a realm - one where the peasants had risen up, murdered their lieges, and dared to call it a holy deed - was a threat to their own stability, and it surely would inspire others to try their own hands at rebellion if it was not quashed.

So the kingdoms of the land saw fit to wage war against the Republic of Vespania. And though it had been a great and powerful realm at its inception, its neighbors whittled away at it until it was but a husk of what it had been at its birth. The kings of what was once Thule were in a state of peace with Vespania, but they plotted to sweep into the nation and redistribute its territory between themselves. They were merely waiting for the right moment to strike.

And then came Fernando.

Fernando was a young man of twenty years of ago. He was nobody important: a merchant's son, a boy who was schooled in economics and cartography and navigation. He had no formal military education, having taught himself everything he knew about swordplay and strategy. Yet he wanted to be a soldier, and so his father bought him a position in the Vespanian Army as a lieutenant. He quickly proved to have a canny mind and moved up to the rank of captain. The young captain was given command of a small outpost near the southern border of Vespania, one which was in a poor condition with demoralized soldiers.

Fernando transformed that outpost into a small fortress and drilled his men into respectable troops. He reorganized the supply lines to the fort, introduced an improved system of salvo fire to his men, and made sure their equipment was kept in good condition.

When war finally came, Fernando was more than ready. He held off multiple attacks at his fort, using his soldiers and local support effectively to keep the enemy at bay, and soon was promoted and given command of more men. And then he was promoted again and again as his successes mounted, and soon enough Fernando was the foremost general in the army of Vespania.

What should have been a conquered realm expanded. The Holy Republic of Vespania grew in size, power, and influence thanks to Fernando's cunning and courage. Peace was signed. He had saved Vespania.

Since then, Fernando has been the republic's chief bulwark against outside forces, even as factions inside the republic vie for power and even try to limit the general's influence. He is a polarizing force, with some people lauding him as a hero and others viewing him as an upstart. Nevertheless, he is generally well respected, even by his enemies in the neighboring kingdoms, for his cunning, his well-trained troops, and his valor.

But there is something happening in the capital. As magic returns to the world, so too does the power of Vespos become more evident. And yet as loyal as Fernando is to his Doge, he finds the growing power of the Prophet of Vespos to be... disconcerting.

Fernando cannot quite say why.

Journey:

General Fernando has three principal goals: first, to protect his nation from outside threats; second, to secure the borders and bring about a lasting peace to the region; and thirdly, to put an end to the threat of the Beastmen once and for all. The twisted abominations that came about from the Nemedian Scourge are a threat to all people of the Iron Kingdoms, and they more than anything else must be rid of.

But there is another goal that Fernando has, though he does not make it public: keeping the power of the Prophet of Vespos in check. The Prophet has acted more and more strangely in recent years, arousing suspicions in Fernando. While the general is as devout a man as any and praises Vespos between battles, something about the Prophet unnerves him. He cannot say what.

Ideals:

Order - Fernando defines organization. He is timely, orderly, always preparing contingencies for whatever trouble he foresees, and keeps both himself and his soldiers highly disciplined.
Honor - Those who have served under the general or fought against him know very well just how honorable a man he is. The tactics he employs may be tricky, to be sure, and he may be a crafty old fox. But let it be known that Fernando is an honest man, an oathkeeper, a man who would sooner die than betray his morals.
Loyalty - None can doubt that Fernando is a loyal man. He could have taken control of the government of Vespania if he had so chosen. He commands the army, and he has just enough political clout to maintain the throne were he to take it. But he has no desire to rule Vespania: he means only to serve it.
Strategy - Fernando does not win battles with brute force. He wins by cunning and wit, by maintaining good supply lines and spotting weaknesses to be exploited. He wins by drilling his men very hard and transforming them into truly professional fighters. He is a strategist and a tactician.

Holdings:

Fernando commands an army, perhaps the finest in all of Thule. If it is not the finest, it is at least the most well-trained and disciplined. He commands mixed formations of pikemen and musketeers called Tercanos, the lot of them equipped with breastplates and morions for protection. Some halberdiers are counted among those units as well. The general fields lines of musket-toting skirmishers, and he has been known to pick out his strongest soldiers to serve as grenadiers in those skirmishing lines. Other units in Fernando's army include mounted crossbowmen and heavy cavalry wielding battle axes or horseman's picks with lances.

Of course, it should be remembered that while Fernando commands this army, its loyalty is meant to be to Vespania, not to him. Still, a majority of his soldiers have greater faith in him than in the leaders of their nation.

Flag of Vespania

The general has fewer personal belongings than one might expect. He has no family (sans his father and cousins) and lives alone in a small "manor" inside the confines of the fort he uses as his base of operations. The General's Manor, as it is called, is not much larger than the next officer's quarters, though he has taken some time to try and make the rather bare place look livable.

Fernando has his own horse, a mare named Belle, and has the equipment one would suspect of a general. A well-made sword, an impressive breastplate that marks him as the leader, a war banner, a musket, a sturdy buckler... It may not sound like much, but when he sits astride that horse and stares over the battlefield, there is no doubt who is in command. He may not be an incredibly wealthy man, but his equipment and clothing mark him as a man of high rank and stature.

[vietmyke]

Hadar the Windwalker

Name: Hadar Mizrahi - The Scholar Swordsmaster - Hadar the Windwalker

Age: 40

Gender: Male

Appearance: A tall and lean man, Hadar is a man in his prime. His posture is decidedly casual, but his build is obviously of one used to travelling. His coarse, dark hair is pulled into a ponytail, his tanned skin is set off by his hazel eyes, his beard is rough, but maintained, and his mouth is often curled into a wry grin. His body is marked by numerous scars, the most obvious of which crosses his face. His garb is comprised of white and purple robes, loose fitting and easy to move in, and of the traditional Iiram and Sand Kingdoms style. However, during his time in the Iron Kingdoms, Hadar occasionally dons leather armor to protect himself.

Personality:
Confident and charismatic, Hadar appears outwardly jovial and warm-hearted. His lazy and carefree demeanor, combined with his near perpetual times of thought is occasionally mistaken for a lack of spacial awareness and carelessness. Underneath his relaxed persona lies an innate brilliance, a highly intuitive and calculative mind. Highly perceptive and logical, Hadar shows an almost insatiable appetite for knowledge and learning of any kind, be it scholarly or practical to the point that his lazy and carefree demeanor is broken by a manic, almost obsessive disposition when presented with relics or tomes that are magical in nature. Despite his lazy demeanor, Hadar is a dedicated scholar boasting considerable knowledge of geography, and alchemical theory, though not a practitioner of the divine craft himself. Hadar possesses a well developed moral compass, and can be fairly protective of his students.

History:

Hider

Hadar was born the second son to a petty warmonger in the lawless wastes of the Sand Kingdoms. Of his many siblings, only Hadar and his older brother lived past their childhood. His childhood was tumultuous and chaotic, their tribe wasn’t large enough to control any of the major remaining settlements, and were stuck constantly waging war against the other small tribes for the desert’s rapidly dwindling resources. As soon as he could walk he was put to work, gathering what little plant matter there was and helping out his family and other tribe members however he could. As a youth, Hadar was forced to the sword in order to fight for his family and for their collective survival.

As Hadar and his brother grew older, they were brought along with their father and the other men of the warband as they raided and skirmished with other tribes for control of water and resources. As their father and the other men waged battle against the warriors of the other tribes, Hadar and the other youths would make a beeline for the opposing tribe’s valuables: water, food, livestock; and steal them. As Hadar and his brother grew older they were taught in the way of the blade in order to further aid their tribe.

Showing considerable promise as a swordsman, Hadar proved to be quite competent with a blade, and would eventually be regarded as one of the most talented swordsmen in the tribe. He showed considerable promise as a combatant and joined the ranks of his tribe’s warriors. Extremely proud of his skill, Hadar quickly propelled himself to be among the most prominent of his tribe’s warriors, and eventually became known throughout the deserts. Taking victory after victory for his tribe, Hadar would eventually become well known throughout the Sand Kingdoms as the 'Windwalker', for his near inhuman dexterity and grace. So inhuman was his speed, it was as though he could control the wind at his back, or he could he could detect a man's movements before he even made them. With his skill with the blade, and his fearsome reputation, Hadar helped take his tribe to glorious, heights smaller tribes surrendering outright rather than face down the man that was worth a hundred men.

Hadar led his tribe across the deserts, his tribe believing him blessed by the gods, and following a path of fate. Hadar eventually led his tribe to a secluded shrine that historians had once referred to as Al-Kibrit, the temple in which the original Philospher's Stone was first created. The inhabitants of this shrine were a cabal of warriors possessed of an obscure and and mystic power, claiming to have guarded the temple for the past century. As Hadar led his tribe into the battle, he found himself fighting those who seemed to wield the powers of the gods themselves, faster and stronger than mere mortal men. As his kinsmen struggled to fight off the cabal and were slain, Hadar found himself in single combat with the leader of the strange warriors.

Only through his own inhuman speed and reflexes was Hadar able to survive the encounter, receiving a gruesome facial and chest wound as the enemy champion seemed to cut into him despite being several feet away. With every ounce of Hadar's skill, alongside considerable amounts of luck, the Windwalker eventually bested the cabal's champion, after a full hour of fighting on the last strands of his life. Claiming the cabal champion's blade as his own, Hadar found himself in possession of a magical weapon, a blade whose edge never dulled, and could cut through the very air around him, maiming men from distances out of his reach. With help of this blade, Hadar managed to return to his tribe, injured, but alive.

Though family, he and his brother often times butted heads. His brother, while a capable warrior in his own right, paled in comparison to his brother Hadar- a mere spark in comparison with a raging inferno. With their father making plans to have Hadar succeed him as the next warlord; Hadar’s brother was wracked with jealousy. Hatching a plot, Hadar’s older brother overthrew him, blaming Hadar for the loss of so many of the tribe's warriors, and accusing him of treason and attempting to lead the tribe towards destruction. Cast out and exiled, Hadar left his tribe, and wandered the desert sands.

Though he had been abandoned by his tribe, it appeared that those whom had granted him his unique abilities had not. The same wind that propelled his motions guided him forward through the desert. However, still suffering from his wounds, and With little more than his swords and the clothes on his back, Hadar didn’t last very long in the desert and an untold amount of time fending for himself, he finally collapsed.

Hadar awoke to find himself in the care of a hermit, weakened and sick from the desert. Nursing Hadar back to health, Hadar stayed with the hermit for a while-he had nowhere else to go, and the Hermit was kind and knowledgeable. Hadar learned much from the hermit, the cave in which he lived was devoid of the constant conflict that characterized the desert, an oasis of peace in an otherwise lawless land, affording Hadar a taste of peacefulness and calm that he had never before experienced. Hadar learned how to read, and how to write, he learned of compassion, humility and slowly learned the value of human life. The hermit taught Hadar how to read ancient Iiramite texts and alchemy, and while Hadar never had any talent for the craft himself, he was content with learning about it for the sake of scholarly pursuits. Now able to read the ancient runes inscribed upon his sword, Hadar learned of the powerful spirit that resided within his blade. This spirit was of the same power that guided the wind at his back, and now that they had been united, the wind pulled even stronger. The ancient hermit eventually grew old, and died peacefully in his sleep.

After burying the hermit, Hadar took the hermit's alchemical texts, and works of knowledge and set off back into the desert as a changed man. Following the pull of the wind Hadar ventured west, eventually arriving in the Iron Kingdoms. For the next several years, he traveled through the lands of the Iron Kingdoms, seeking knowledge and teaching wherever he went. At times he drew his blade in the defense of the weak, and often stepped up in the name of defending knowledge and learning. His appearance, and swiftness in combat and his near inhuman speed spread across the Iron Kingdoms. Similar to the stories of the Windwalker, a swordsman believed to be born of demons that tore his way through the Sand Kingdoms, word spread of a swordsman who could move faster than the wind, a near peerless swordsman, who instead of blood, glory and gold sought out books and dusty trinkets.

Known as the Scholar-Swordmaster, Hadar has been sought out by many across the Iron Kingdoms seeking to prove themselves against him in single combat, or enter his tutelage and learn the ways of the sword. He rarely drew his blade, and often turned potential students down, only choosing those who he believed were of pure body and soul to learn from him.

Journey:
Hadar's calling is arguably the simplest- the pure pursuit of knowledge of any kind. Hadar is not satisfied unless he has learned at least something new each day, and as a result scours the world for books he can read, people who can teach, and things he can learn. This knowledge is not limited to scholarly learning either- Hadar also has interest in learning different forms of swordplay, different types of cuisine, dialects. In particular Hadar has the desire to explore the world to rediscover the lost/dying arts of Alchemy.

Ideals:
Hadar values knowledge, learning, and personal growth. He constantly seeks to better himself, and encourages those around him to do so as well. While outwardly lazy and carefree, Hadar holds compassion towards those who also embody his values. Though selective in his students, he believes teaching to be one of the ultimate methods of learning.

Hadar also values freedom, and the ability to pursue growth at ones own pace. He doesn't like the idea of being stuck in any one place for too long, and is commonly afflicted with wanderlust. This is occasionally attributed to the fact that he follows the pull of the winds, following what he calls the Winds of Fate.

Compassion and humility are also core values of Hadar. While one can argue how much compassion a man who so easily fights with a sword may be, Hadar truly values human life and dignity- though his displays of 'compassion and dignity' may not always coincide ideals held by others.

Holdings:
A traveler by nature, Hadar holds a precious few things. On his person he carries a satchel, filled with various tomes, scrolls, artifacts, and objects of knowledge and learning, several are of magical or alchemical nature, others are of more mundane. For arms, Hadar carries with him two sabres. The first, is a mundane saber, crafted of fine steel and well balanced, and is kept in a sheath of fine, black coated oak. The second saber, is Hadar's most prized possession, a sabre taken from an arcane foe from the ruins of Al-Kibrit, an ancient Iiriamite temple. Known as the Zulfiqar, the blade's silvery sheen reflects brightly in the dimmest light, and is near blinding in the harsh desert sun. Capable of cutting through the air and maiming men from several feet away, its blade is inscribed with ancient runes and grant Hadar even greater control over the winds that guide his movements. The Zulfiqar is sheathed in a scabbard of fine white ivory and its hilt and pommel are adorned with gold.

Not technically holdings, but accompanying him is his student Emil, a Borean orphan that Hadar had come across a few years prior. The young borean is just over 18 years of age, and is Hadar's first and only student to be taught in the way of the blade.

Collectively, the two of them share a large beast of burden (imagine large water buffalo) named Clavat, which they use for transport and to carry their more mundane belongings- spare clothes, food, water, cooking implements, and trade items.

[Slamurai]

Princess Dhatru

Name: Princess Dhatru

Age: 23

Gender: Female

Appearance: Dhatru stands tall, with broad shoulders and limbs. She is the antithesis of the noble ladies of Atlantis or Thrule; where they are slim and frail from lack of activity, her body is solid and muscular. Her strength is complimented by well-developed and full breasts and hips; an ensemble that some would regard the paragon of “barbarian beauty.” Her hair is fairer than wheat and groomed into ornate braids. Though her people are barbarians, she is a princess nonetheless, and makes her station known with all manners of jewelry and trinkets.

Personality: A degree of aloofness can be seen between Dhatru and her followers; through the years of her reign, she has come to rely on her sorcerous reputation to instill loyalty in others. A blink of an eye there, or a wave of the hand here, and her powers are manifest and order restored. Where one man may step out of line, an example can be made, and more will take his place. She is accustomed to being obeyed, to her objectives being within reach and especially, to being feared. Such power has made her somewhat complacent in herself.

However, Dhatru is also plagued by restlessness, perturbed with the need for fulfillment, but never wholly finding it. She is irritable and finds it difficult to remain idle for long. As a result, she spends her time leaping from one activity to another, lest any feeling of gratification escape her. Some might call her paranoid, pointing to her restless nights walking the halls and whispering to invisible confidants as evidence.

History: Dhatru was born well after the beginning of the Age of Dawn – a daughter of Lemurian warlord Franzic, who'd established his own small kingdom between the borders of Hyperborea and Thule. King Franzic was, in fact, the son of one of the generals who followed the mighty warlord against Iiram, whose name none speak. Franzic capitalized on this fact, using his lineage to gather followers and strengthen his territory.

Franzic succumbed to wounds he sustained during battle with a rival Lemurian faction, leaving his only child, Dhatru to inherit his kingdom. The princess, aged seventeen, immediately gathered the closest of her father's confidants and with them reinforced her right to rule. With a keen eye and strong arm, she set about purging political rivals from her inner circle. Any dissidents that were to be found in command, she slew herself. With her rule consolidated, Dhatru turned her attention to neighboring tribes and kingdoms.

It was also around this time that she'd begun claiming to have visions of “Dark Gods” and their extraplanar servants. Any doubts to these claims were crushed when a rebellious chieftain splintered from her rule, and in her wrath, Dhatru's vengeance channeled a portal, through which a throng of fiends manifested and tore him apart. Other similar displays of power convinced neighboring tribes to bend their knee. When she marched on the neighboring petty kingdom of Novorad, she'd promised her followers she would conquer it in no more than six day's time. On the sixth day, when her axe fell on the throat of the Novorad's king, there was no questioning her right to rule. Word spread of the “Witch Princess” throughout western Lemuria, even into Hyperborea and northern Thule.

Now in her twenty-third year, Dhatru has claimed vast swathes of eastern Lemuria, and brought the banners of many tribes under her direction. She has even found allies in Hyperborea, her ranks diverse with people of many origins. Nevertheless, as her authority waxes, there are some barbarians which see her as a threat; a vessel of evil that cannot be trusted. In the deeper reaches of the untamed north, clans conspire against her. Wary kings of Thule gather armies and raise their drawbridges at night, eyes glued to the horizon for the sight of Lemurian banners. Dhatru's reputation serves both as a boon and a bane.

Journey: The simplest of barbarians are content to kill or be killed; the promise of bloodshed equal to, if not greater than the promise of booty. Dhatru is above such base entertainment, having tasted the sweetness of power, but who's thirst has yet to be sated. Though she has made great strides to empower the command that was once her father's, Dhatru's blessings (or afflictions, depending who you ask) have emboldened her reach. Her influence is at its height, but she feels less and less satisfaction from each victory - chasing the scent of blood in hopes of quelling a hunger that will not subside. Her eyes are set on many goals: the northern kingdoms of Thule, her enemies in eastern Lemuria, opposition in deep Hyperborea, as well as places of power that she has seen in her visions.

Ideals:
Avarice: Dhatru is a muse of avarice; she desires many things, that even when attained, may not bring her the satisfaction she imagined they would. Her quest is one of fulfillment, and with each objective completed, a greater desire swells in her heart. She is never wholly satisfied, restless and anxious for the next hint of gratification. Whether her rapacity can ever subside has yet to be determined.

Faust & Mephistopheles: The extant of Dhatru's link to the Dark Gods are immeasurable, as even she cannot say how deeply they stare into her soul. It is clear that her successes are the result of collaboration with these entities, but to what end they have elected to be her patron is not certain. In this sense, Dhatru's ability to wield their power is a true gamble. Who can say what will become of her when they decide to collect interest on her loan?

Ancestor Worship: In a looser sense, she also represents the desire to surpass one's ancestors. Her realm far exceeds the original boundaries of her father. In her early life, Dhatru was close to King Franzic, and his lessons emphasized the importance of tradition and familial bonds. Her additions to Franzic's kingdom can be interpreted as her way of honoring his memory. It may also be an homage to the “Unspoken Warlord” that ravaged Iiram during the Years of Dusk.

Holdings: Dhatru's sphere of influence stretches from Lemuria's western coastline to expanses at the border of Hyperborea and Thule. She has several tribes and clans of barbarians at her command, giving her a strong core to raise her army. Be as it may, her powerbase is decentralized, and she cannot prevent disputes between distant tribes from arising. They are united only by a fragile thread of awe and dread that her command of ungodly powers has weaved. In that sense, her strongest allies can very accurately be described as whichever tribe she happens to be closest to at a given time. What her domain lacks in refinement and sophistication of the south, it makes up for in sheer, brutal simplicity.

The Lemurian princess resides in her home keep of Vostraghis, a bastion along the coastline. It is not a luxurious place, compared to the palaces and castles of the south, but it is a farcry above the sea of hovels, yurts and tents that are common in the barbaric north. There are treasures foreign and domestic that adorn the halls, plunder from the far reaches of the world that has, one way or another, found itself in the least likely of places. Dhatru has no shortage of servants, captivated by her sorcery to obey her whims. Weapons, horses, ornaments, strong drink, and rich foods, she has aplenty. From this stronghold, she directs the movements of her warbands, plots her next advances and conspires with entities unseen.

[Jotunn Draugr]

Aethelsteinn

Okay, so Atlantis is basically Rome after the fall. What kind of technology are we dealing with? I'll start on a character sheet, and run it by you guys to make sure I'm on the right track.

Name: Lord Aethelsteinn the Ironside
(pronounced aa-thull-stine)

Age: 39

Gender: Male

Appearance:
Pale skinned with bright rosy cheeks, and long brown hair with several braids. His face is clean shaven, and his jaw is stern. He maintains a determined expression at all times, piercing his targets with his furious green eyes. He stands 6'1" in height, and has a moderately lean, but with an outstandingly toned and refined build.

Personality:
Aethelsteinn is a tenacious individual, stiff and calculating. Regardless of occasion, he refuses to leave his chambers without a sword strapped to his side. Fear of assassination weighs heavy on him, yet he works tirelessly to portray himself as an unshakable leader. At every opportunity, he lets his actions, and his reputation, do the speaking for him. To this end, multitudes of military captains under his command have been executed for showing even the slightest hesitation.
Deep down, Aethelsteinn is a deeply traditional and superstitious person, with a strong respect for his family. It is because of this, that he acts so heartless and tyrannical. It was the tenacity of his family that preserved their home, and safeguarded their subjects from the endless hordes of barbarians. As a result, the House of Steinnman has become the embodiment of cold-blooded warfare and governing. The responsibility of striking fear into the hearts of all opposing nations, of being the folktale that parents use to frighten their children, rests on Aethelsteinn's shoulders at all times.

History:
Following the fall of the Atlantean Empire, the great capital cities fell into ruin. The endless urban expanses were leveled into fields of death and superstition. Aethelsteinn was born in the city-state of Thespolis, one of the last great strongholds of Atlantis. It was here that he grew up, under the guidance of his father Steinn 'the Cringe', high-general of the Thespolian army. His father inherited this position from Aehtelsteinn's great-grandfather, Steinnman the Terrible, a chieftain from the distant realm of Hyperborea, who came to Thespolis as a mercenary, at the invitation of the lord of Thespolis. At that time, the city was under siege from foreign invaders, looking to ransack the untouched city. Arriving in a flurry of spears and swords, the clan of Steinnman mowed their way through the invaders' camps, slaughtering them while they rested. As the sun rose, the surrounding fields of Outer Thespolis were red with blood, and the clansmen were welcomed into the city as heroes. From then onward, the House of Steinnman acted as the sworn protectors of Thespolis, in return for many prestigious titles and luxurious estates.
As a young man, Aethelsteinn served as a ranking officer in the Thespolian army, directly under his father. When tensions rose between Thespolis and another neighbouring city-state, war was declared, and Aethelsteinn found himself on the battlefield against trained Atlantian soldiers. After a long, bloody campaign, the Thespolians again found themselves penned within the walls of their own city, at the mercy of a larger, sieging force. In an act of desperation, the lord of Thespolis marched himself into the enemy lines, to plead for mercy from the opposing general. Rather than accept the gesture, the enemy general struck the lord down, and resumed the siege.
Utterly defeated, Thespolis opened its gates, and allowed the enemy force to march in. Then, as the enemy soldiers broke ranks to pillage the city, the Steinnmen attacked. Surrounding the disorganized rabble on all sides, and closing the city gate behind them, the Thespolian army swarmed and purged the trapped invaders. For the first time in its history, Thespolis had been breached, but it consumed the invader like a great stone beast, feasting on a swarm of insects.
When all was said and done, both generals lay dead, suffering fatal blows in the conflict. Further still, the lord of Thespolis lay dead, and his heir remained unborn in his wife's womb. Rather than suffer a regency, the soldiers of Thespolis banished the lady, and put young Aethelsteinn, now de-facto general of the Thespolian army, on the throne instead.
With this new-found authority, Aethelsteinn lead the surviving army of Thespolis into a counter-attack. With the opposing army laying dead within Thespolian walls, the rival city had no force to defend itself with. Aethelsteinn slew the neighbouring lord, and declared himself to be the ruler of both cities, now known as the Sisters of Thespolia.
For the past two decades, Aethelsteinn has ruled with an iron fist. From personally leading the charge against opposing armies, to personally overseeing the nation's tax-collection, to personally performing the executions following tax-season, Aethelsteinn remains the unshakable embodiment of the unwavering law.

Journey:
Aethelsteinn seeks to restore the Atlantian empire's reputation. He knows he'll never be able to bring it back to its original greatness, but he believes himself to be able to cement its place in the world, so that it will never again fall to invaders. To this end, he intends to continue his conquest of the region, unifying the city-states under a single government again.
Aethelstienn harbors a deep hatred of most foreigners, and seeks to exact some form of genocidal revenge on them, as payback for the fall of Atlantis, which he upholds to have been the pinnacle of human greatness.
In spite of this xenophobia, he also desires a reawakening of his northern tribal roots, to rekindle the ancient blood tradition that gave his family such military prowess. He regrets never having learned the language of his forefathers.

Ideals:
The Rule of Law: Aethelsteinn believes the laws of the land to be sacred, unwavering text. He does not believe in different punishments for different circumstances. If the rule is broken, the price is paid.
Tradition: Things are the way they are for a reason, and he'll challenge anyone who says otherwise. He fights and leads the way his father did, and his father's father before him.
Birthright: Not an egalitarian by any means, Aethelsteinn believes that those in charge are destined to be so. He comes from a long line of warriors, and believes that all lineages carry intrinsic attributes. His stewards are all sons and grandsons of stewards for the very same reason.
No Compromise in War: As a lord, Aethelsteinn has never lost a battle, never agreed to a peace deal, and never shown mercy to his enemies. He feels no guilt using deception on the battlefield, and believes the concept of an "unfair" battle to be something of a pagan myth.

Holdings:
The twin city-states of Thespolis Major and Thespolis Minor, simply referred to as the Sisters of Thespolia. In spite of their names, both are equally large and populous. They rest on the northern coast of the Inner Atlantean Ocean.

Note: While Aethelsteinn, his father Steinn, and his great-grandfather Steinnman are all notable warriors and miltiary leaders, very little is known about Aethelsteinn's grandfather, Thessalonius.

[Drifting Pollen]

Rosa Mariane

Name: Rosa Mariane

Age: 30

Gender: Female

Appearance:



Tall and willowy build, with dark brown hair cut short or tied up, depending on the season. Brown eyes and light skin, the latter of which is usually kept very clean, for presentation's sake. She pays a lot of attention to her appearance, and takes pains to look as pristine as possible. Holds herself with practiced poise, and moves very carefully, with an emphasis on appearing cultured and elegant. Also has a tattoo that stretches down from her nape, across her back, and around to her belly, a black pattern made up of curling lines and tiny words in several different languages.

Rosa's clothes vary between extremely ostentatious and expensive outfits with lots of trimmings and jewelry (for official business) and loose, muted brown cloth and burlap garb (for more secretive dealings).

Personality:
Rosa's a snake. Ruthless and analytical, as patient as she is cunning, and utterly distrusting of those around her. She's also a very good actor, and will often try to appear more gentle and innocent than she actually is. Though hardly insecure, she is quite self-conscious, and carefully considers both her actions and the reactions of others. She will often appear friendly, and enjoys making acquaintances, but she always sees these kinds of relationships as tools rather than emotional connections. She can make real friends, but demands absolute loyalty in return.

She's something of a hedonist, and enjoys rich foods, excessive ornamentation, luxurious accommodations, attractive men, and the very best wines the world can provide. The latter is taken in moderation, however, and she stays away from more exotic drugs, out of fear that they may affect her mind. She is also mildly paranoid, and will sometimes have trouble balancing her desires and her need for security. There are many pleasures that Rosa loves, but power over others is foremost among them, and she will work to crush or undermine all those she cannot control.

History:
An Atlantean by descent, Rosa was born on a boat and raised on the rivers and seas, the daughter of a pair of formerly wealthy merchants whose powerful Guild had collapsed during the turmoil of the Age of Dusk. With their money running out and nowhere safe to go, her parents had been forced to throw in their lot with a roving band of pirates, using their ability to appraise and negotiate to sell off stolen goods for half-decent prices, which was a valuable talent in such dark times. Neither of them wanted to see Rosa caught up in their dirty business, but the pirates forced their hand, keeping their daughter close as collateral.

Thus, Rosa was exposed to the seedy side of the world at a young age. Though she never took part in any raids or boardings, she traveled the Atlantean Sea with a vile and dangerous crew, stopping at hidden ports and black markets all over the coastline. Resolving to make the best of a dire situation, her parents taught her something of their trade: how to read and manipulate people, the basics of economics, and the details they had learned as merchants of the world's various cultures, including those further inland, such as Iiram, which Rosa had never seen. Sometimes, when they were feeling nostalgic, they would wax poetic about their former wealth, or the might of the Merchants' Guild, and their daughter drank it all in.

However, working alongside pirates was a dangerous business, and eventually Rosa's parents and their employers ran afoul of a vicious and vengeful captain, who was quick to track them down and seek their heads. Knowing that they had little hope of surviving much longer, the two of them called in an old favor and got their daughter a ride on a small smuggling vessel, which took Rosa down to a seedy little port in Darfar, where an old friend was waiting to take her in. There, she was supposed to live quietly, safely, until she was old enough to take care of herself.

The girl, however, absolutely loathed the idea of a life filled with poverty and boredom. Her caretaker was an honest man, but he soon found himself unable to control the young Rosa, who took to the streets, befriending the dirty beggars and orphans who scurried like rats through the dark alleyways. Using her experience and her charm, she organized them, pooling and distributing their profits efficiently and grouping together the skilled thieves to steal valuable goods in planned heists they could never have pulled off before. By the time they'd attracted the attention of the local watch, Rosa's little gang was already wealthy enough to bribe them off, and continue their plundering unimpeded. Soon, as both she and her allies grew older and cleverer and gathered more resources, she began to hire muscle, and took over the more dangerous trades, recruiting drug dealers and con artists, bouncers and bartenders, pirates and bounty hunters, and all the other kinds of dangerous scum who frequented her dirty little port. Her guardian thought her dead by this point, but Rosa was thriving, masterminding a growing criminal empire that was already spreading its reach to the seas.

There was only so far she could have gone through quiet manipulation and organization alone, but Rosa was an adult by now (albeit a young one) and was ready to step out into the wider world. Once she'd acquired enough wealth to buy herself a ship, she was off to sea, armed with her wits and a crew of loyal scumbags, ready to begin her rise to power.

She knew what the world wanted in this age: weapons. After contacting informants on the coastline to find out where the wars were, she bought up arms and armor from peaceful locations before selling them at exorbitant prices to kingdoms at war, who needed them far more than their gold and jewels. As she grew richer and found more allies and customers, Rosa recruited blacksmiths of her own, and began seeking out alchemists, hoping to use their dying art to discover the secrets of gunpowder, and monopolize this for her own gains. As the volatile and brutal Age of Dawn began, supply and demand grew ever larger, Rosa's network spread across the continent, and she became fabulously rich.

Since then, Rosa has been surrounding herself with luxuries, as if to spite her former circumstances. However, these dalliances are mere distractions from her expanding influence and ambitious plans. Using her money and contacts, she has smuggled valuable and much-needed arms and supplies all across the continent, gathered small armies of mercenaries to change the tide of key battles, orchestrated the assassination of major political figures, sent thieves and pirates after her competition, and even used her power to help force pacts and agreements where necessary. Every move is calculated, meant to either yield massive profits or shape the political landscape in her favor. She has also began studying alchemy herself, in the hopes of being able to rebuild and surpass the deadly power formerly posessed by the alchemists of Thule. Now, she travels across the continent, never remaining in one place for long. Wherever she goes, the rich and the poor, the mighty and the weak all whisper of the woman whose every decision might shape the fate of kingdoms.

Journey:
If it wasn't already clear... Rosa wants power and money. She already has a crap ton of the latter, and is now beginning to shift her focus towards the former. The instability caused by the events of the Age of Dusk have given her plenty of opportunities to exploit, but right now she's seeking consolidation, creating alliances and holding them steady to ensure that her hard work is not wasted by some unpredictable coup or invasion. She still thrives on warfare, but already has plans to adapt when a more peaceful age inevitably comes about. While world in turmoil can cast away a spider like her, if she can make herself an integral piece of one set in stone, she has won. Her end-goal is a stable and thriving human civilization, with her pulling the strings from the shadows, not openly ruling any land but being powerful enough to get whatever she wants, one way or another.

Ideals:
Greed, pleasure, cunning and manipulation. Rosa values the intelligent for being competent servants and a decent challenge, and equally values the stupid for being easy to control. From her point of view, humans are little better than animals, and it is up to the most canny to rise to the top and dominate those below them. Concepts such as honor and kindness mean little to her, for her the only true happiness in life comes from pleasure, power, and the accumulation of both.

Holdings:
Officially, Rosa is extremely wealthy, possessing enough material wealth to rival a small kingdom and a fleet of over a dozen vessels, some of which she uses to ferry weapons and goods where she needs them and others of which are simply pirates in her employ. Unofficially, she also has the ear and loyalty of hundred of contacts, including informants, assassins, politicians, mercenaries, gang leaders, pirates, and even the rulers of some towns and cities. These contacts in turn command many others, resulting in Rosa having access to a network thousands strong, though this is spread out all over the continent. It is likely she will know anywhere from one to three major figures in any coastal or riverside population center, as well as a few in key areas outside her usual range. Due to her means of operation, Rosa's influence wanes the further one gets from water and civilized areas, to the point where she has few contacts among groups such as nomadic tribes, although she is working on changing this.

She also has several alchemists working for her, and possesses a large number of rare and valuable alchemical texts, which she is using to try and learn its secrets herself, focusing primarily on its more devastating applications.