[OOC] The Band of Fools

[Forgiveness]

I realize that after I read both their bios.... I can change to something else if you want the position to yourself.

@Mattchstick

[Enigmatik]

I FUCKING ACCIDENTALLY RERESHED AFTER FINISHING MY CS SOBS.

[Jb]

I'll get a CS up at some point...hopefully before 30 other people do.

[Slamurai]

@Forgiveness

<Snipped quote>

Yeah, maybe because he's, like, almost identical to Cedric? The two of them are almost interchangeable, especially in Skills and Abilities. And Equipment.

@Mattchstick

And this is a terrible thing why? It's a mercenary company full of interchangeable peons; there's bound to be overlap. I intend to play a sort of knight - it's not like someone else playing another knight with *gasp* the same equipment and skills is going to be worth getting up in arms about.

It's not a D&D party with an unspoken rule that everyone ought to fill a different niche.

The important thing is that the characters are different people, with personalities, goals and traits that define them beyond equipment or learned skills.

[Gunther]

Baldric Durant “Baldy”

_{Courtesy: Dean S. Jagger}

Male – 41 – Man-at-Arms (Lance Commander)

Role: Man-at-Arms, commanding a Lance.

Appearance: Baldy stands 6’1-1/2” (186.7cm) tall weighing 235 pounds (106.6kg) with shoulder length oily dark brown hair and a short unkempt brown beard. His piercing brown eyes are focused, cutting through the bullshit when he is presented with its stench. As a veteran soldier, Baldy wears a mail surcoat with a studded leather jerkin lain over the mail and a 2” wide leather belt to cinch it together at the waist. He has taken to wearing a bearskin cloak over this armor and wears high hard black boots. He has a few small leather belt pouches tied to the belt. Upon his hands, he wears a pair of black leather gloves under mail gauntlets with steel bracers.

Personality: Baldy is a quiet man with irascible tendencies. He has true respect for those who have proven themselves to him, which means the man survived combat by his side. Young, inexperienced people touting loud boastful comments are annoying to Baldric. He is quick to explode in their faces if they annoy him too much. For the most part, Baldric says nothing.

He is very pensive, spending much time with his thoughts. He has a high intelligence; maybe in another world, he could have achieved social greatness, but not in this known world. He was born low and there he will remain. His only saving grace was to remain a soldier after his first taste of combat. When thrust into combat, his firm sinews are quick to react. Baldy becomes animated slashing through waves of opponents.

Put a tankard of alcohol into Bladric’s belly and he becomes a happy drunk. He is quite the opposite what you typically see, singing, yelling and making a complete ass of himself. He enjoys fighting while intoxicated. It is such a refreshing experience for Baldric; quite liberating actually.

History: Baldric Durant was born to a mining family in a village two leagues east of Durranheim. His early life was a difficult one, but it served to keep the young man physically fit. He hailed from a hearty stock of mountain folk spending their days mining iron ore from the Ragmark Mountains. When the Ragmark called for their banners, Baldric joined with his father and brothers. His first taste of battle taught him to enjoy the life of the soldier, training regularly in the use of the sword as well as hand to hand combat. Baldric found himself to be a natural born warrior.

When that initial war ended, Baldric sought out free companies who would hire him based on his past experience as a soldier in the Ragmark army. His early armor consisted of a gambeson, conical steel helm and long sword with and without a shield. Being a soldier suited the 6’ 1-1/2” Northerner, learning everything he could about being a soldier. He was 17 when he first mounted a horse learning to ride. He has come to appreciate the shock effect of a heavy cavalry charge upon dismounted infantry; having seen both sides of the collision.

Over the years, the free company he served with went through droughts where they had no work and at other times, work was more than abundant. Occasionally, they worked as sentries or guards rather than actual grunt work. The unit did whatever was necessary to survive.

With the money he earned from the jobs, he was able to afford new armor and weapons to protect himself as well as an ample supply of alcohol. He found he was able to afford equipment previously only noblemen could afford. For the past six years, he has been employed by the Band of Fortune or as they have become known a Band of Fools.

For the past twenty-five years as a soldier, Baldric has sustained multiple scars throughout his life surviving no fewer than seven arrow strikes. He has been training as a soldier for the entire time. He has trained in horsemanship, hand to hand combat, long sword, sword and shield, short sword, saber, lance, axe, battle axe, great axe and the bow. As well as using the sword or fighting with his hands, riding a horse is a skill that has quickly become second nature. He understands the horse’s limitation and its potential. He takes full advantage of both.
There was a two-year period in his early 30s where Baldric served as a horseman in a Free Company of Lancers. He acquired good skill in the use of this weapon. He would never consider competing at tournament, simply because he not highborn. For one year in his mid-30s, he learned to use the longbow and served with a Company of bowmen. He enjoys the lethality of this ranged weapon, but he honestly prefers to fight up close and personal. He has acquired a fair skill with the bow and can use it effectively if needed, but prefers the sword.

At various times over the past quarter century, Baldric has served in various capacities, leading a lance or even a collection of three or four lances. He is comfortable being a leader of men or simply being one of the soldiers who get the job done. He was however promoted to command a lance about five years ago. In his relatively advanced age, he has grown tired of the young bucks who come along, thinking they are going to make a name for themselves, just to get killed seconds into their first action. His rule is, he won’t ask you your name until after you have survived your first encounter with the enemy.

Skills and Abilities:

- Sword. Having used the sword more than any other weapon, Baldy possesses his highest skill in this weapon with and without a shield. He is disciplined possessing a fine talent with the weapon; a difficult opponent to defeat.

- Hand to hand combat. As long as he has served as soldier, Baldric has been fighting with his fists and feet. He is not afraid to kick as well as punch. He has learned several unconventional methods of fighting with the hands and feet.

- Great Axe. In his late 20s, Baldric found himself experimenting with various axes. He would take an axe on campaign just to see how he would fair and fair he did. His axe skill in general is good, but he prefers the Great Axe for its heft. He considers himself to possess good to decent skill with the Great Axe.

Weaknesses:

- Abusive. Baldric has seen a lot in his twenty-five years as a soldier. He has witnessed some of the harshest mistreatment of humans by men. In his younger years he could afford to make moral decisions about these actions, but over time he has grown accustomed to it and has found himself on more than a few occasions acting in a similar fashion. He can be very abusive with the enemy, prisoners or anyone who simply stands in his way.

- Fierce. Baldric is by nature a calm, cool and quiet individual speaking only when spoken to. When stirred to action, he is one of the fiercest warriors on the battlefield or in the pub. When his temper has been elevated, he attacks with reckless abandon striking out at targets of opportunity. Sometimes Baldric is slow to calm; to recover to baseline.

- Gruff. Baldy is a rough looking man, considered crusty and by a few difficult to get along with. He is comfortable alone; knowing that his companions could be dead after the next encounter anyway. It makes no sense to get overly familiar with them.

- Irrascible. Saying the wrong thing around Baldric could draw his temper out quickly. As long as you are a respected member of the unit; a veteran, you have nothing to worry about.

- Alcoholic. Baldric loves rum. He will drink ale on a daily basis with meals. He may even drink wine if that is all that is available, but loves his rum. It is an addiction with him, forced to consume large quantities of alcohol whenever possible or the opportunity arises. On the plus side, Baldric is a happy drunk. He will sing, dance, laugh, joke and yell when he is drunk. His tendency to be irascible, gruff, fierce, or abusive are mitigated by his alcohol consumption. It is like someone flipped his “I don’t give a fuck” switch and he becomes much easier to get along with.

Equipment: Over a light gambeson top and leather trousers, Baldric wears a mail surcoat extending to mid-thigh. Over this piece of mail, which also includes a mail coif, he wears a studded leather jerkin. Upon his hands he wears leather gloves over which he wears a pair of mail gauntlets fastened with steel bracers. His foot wear is a high hard black leather boot and upon his head a small steel conical helmet. A 2” wide belt cinches the jerkin and surcoat together where the scabbard for his longsword is attached. Baldy owns a great bearskin cloak he has worn over his armor on occasion. This is something he wears when not actively engaged in fighting. He carries more than a few daggers of varying length for different purposes, none of which are to be thrown away. He has gone through several shields, they come and go. He may have one or two laying around somewhere. A great axe is also in storage someplace. If he needed to get at it, he would. He would strap the great axe on his back, arming the sword initially. He currently does not own a bow or a quiver of arrows, but could employ one properly if needed to. A 17-hands tall Destrier named, Charcoal has been his mount for the past two years after he lost his last one during a heated engagement near Bordia. Baldric does not wear anything fancy, nor does he pursue delicate or daintily crafted itesm. “A fucking bloody waste of money, if ye ask me!”

[Patryk]

@Kassarock

I'm a bit rusty when it comes to making these, so point out anything that needs to be corrected.

CS- Gerard Gast

Name: Gerard Gast

Gender: Male

Age: 16

Role/Position: Cavalry

Appearance: Shoulder length brown hair, slicked back away from piercing blue eyes. Maintains a lazy scruff on his jaw. Stands at about 5’10” at 185 lbs. Lean, athletic build.

Personality: Gerard, still fairly fresh among the ranks, tries to keep a strong confidence to hide his fear of inadequacy. He continues to maintain a childish level of joy hoping to raise the spirits of those around him. Gerard tends to flock to the more experienced mercenaries, hoping not only to learn their techniques, but that their skill in battle will ensure his survival. Gerard tries to get along with others, never bashful to strike up a conversation. Due to this, most members of the company find him a little overwhelming.

History: The Gast family had been selling their blades for five generations, leaving young Gerard as the last son to pledge his blade to a cause. His father, Johannes Gast, also in active enlistment, disapproved of Gerard's choices, fearing it was too soon as Gerard had not carried their lineage. Despite his disapproval, his father handed down his warhorse, Bona, as a gift and a charm. Gerard has been a member of the mercenary troupe for a short time, but continues tirelessly to hone his skills for his father's approval.

Skills and Abilities: The Gast's were a family of mounted knights, giving Gerard ample time to hone his skill on horseback. Gerard eventually began practicing his hand at mounted combat, driving practice spears into bales of hay. Over time, he proved to have a keen accuracy when placing a blow. During his youth, Gerard found work as a courier. He possessed a strong body and proved he could cover long distances quicker than some of the stronger children and made his way into delivering more important parchments, such as troop movements and battle strategies.

Weakness(es): While Gerard practiced diligently at his family's craft, he tended to ignore some of the more mundane training. Gerard's swordplay and close combat stances were poor, and he didn't possess a strong strike. It seemed as though without a mount, Gerard's confidence melted away to reveal that he was truly still just a child on the battlefield.

Equipment: Bona, a black destrier, handed to him by his father. Gerard carries a spear, a sword, and a long knife. Gerard rides in leathers instead of heavy armor, preferring to be able to run from the battlefield if dismounted.

[WestWall]

Wulfric York

Name: "Sir" Wulfric York

Gender: Male

Age: 31

Role/Position: Blacksmith

Appearance:

Image

Personality: Some would say Wulfric is shy, or even bashful. The actual truth is the fact that Wulfric is not a fan of speaking out of turn. A short lifetime full of torture, fighting and nightmare has forced him to hold his tongue unless he truly needs to speak. Because of this, many believe he has some sort of anxiety with speech. Preferring that his actions answer more then anything else, Wulfric is a quiet soul that pounds out the steel the company uses throughout the night.

History: The York family were once a proud line, having owned several estates throughout the Kingdom of Westar. Wulfric was the youngest son of a rather large portion of the family, and was raised quite well. Being the squire for one of his older brothers, Wulfric would never become the heir of the family, but was happy nonetheless. This noble upbringing gave Wulfric a short teaching in both combat and reading. However, his life would come crashing down around him due to a feud between the his family and the Dunstands. Finally culminating in a clash in the streets, the York family were cut down through assassinations, executions and even abductions. Wulfric himself was captured in a quick abduction, where he was a prisoner for over 3 years of his life. A great majority of his scars come from this time period, where he was tortured brutally at the hands of several banner-men.

Through sheer luck, Wulfric was eventually able to escape. Realizing he was the only surviving member of his family, Wulfric went on to become an apprentice at a local bakery. His time there was short enough, and soon, he was under the tutelage of a blacksmith, who allowed Wulfric to stay there only as a tutor to his own children. Wulfric's ability to read allowed him to barter it as a tool, teaching those that could not. Picking up several abilities underneath the blacksmith, Wulfric would apprentice under him and the rest is history.

Wulfric is now the company swordsmith, casting the steel needed to create more weapons for the soldiers and infantry. His is well-known throughout the camp as the quiet man that can build you a pretty good weapon if need be.

Skills and Abilities: Wulfric has a small learning when it comes to one-on-one combat, due to him being taught at a very young age. Furthermore, he is dedicated to his craft, and can pull miracles out of small amounts of metal. Finally, Wulfric is more learned then your average blacksmith, as he can read and write.

Weakness(es): Wulfric is emotionally scarred from his former life. Furthermore, his survival means that assassins are constantly searching for him. The companies movement throughout the country is a blessing, as it does not stay in the same place for long. Additionally, though he is more skilled then your average peasant, he is still rather clumsy with fighting.

Equipment: Wulfric usually wears tanned hides and leathers, along with his tool apron. Almost always having his smithing hammer on him gives him an improvised weapon, and he can wield it well enough to fight off would-be attackers. Since blacksmith's rarely go to war with the rest of the company, Wulfric does not use much armor beyond leather and occasional brigandine.

[Kassarock]

@Aristo@Forgiveness@Mattchstick Yeah Aristo has the right of this, overlapping characters in terms of skills/roles/abilities is fine, what's more important I think is that if characters do occupy similar roles should try to stand out from each other in terms of their personalities, motivations and histories. Hope this helps.

I'm liking some of the characters so far, expect proper feedback tomorrow

[Kassarock]

Also I've edited the command structure because I was just making it to pointlessly structured. It will now just be: Captain > Lefttenant > Lances, then everyone else. Paymasters/Quatermasters are also considered 'leadership' positions.

Right now there is only one Lefttenant spot available and the captain spot is closed, but its likely that someone may be promoted relatively earlier into the RP.

[Jb]

@Kassarock

Brádach MacShana

Brádach 'The Piper' MacShana

Male - 62 - Infantryman

Appearance:

Hard is the correct word to physically describe Brádach, and indeed is the one that most would use, for you do not get to be as old as he without living a full and violent life.

A full 6' 0” (1.83m) in height, though somewhat bowed by the weight of years, Brádach has never been what one would call 'imposing' – he is nowhere near as muscular as some, having retained his wiry body type throughout his life, corded and lean, like a coiled bowstring – but an life starting with farming and ending in the killing of others has given him the overall form of a gnarled oak.

This is seen most particularly in his face – haggard and coarse, like the side of a sea-facing cliff, weathered by age and climate – his wispy white hair worn to his shoulders but his beard always kept neat, framing his gaunt, almost emaciated, features.

What really draws the gaze though are the pale blue eyes beneath his snow-coloured brows, eyes that have seen so much and managed to retain there glimmer of mischief, there youthful vigour that the rest of his body can be said to lack, and a depth that any who peer into them experience for themselves – make no mistake though, as much as they may not seem so, they are the eyes of a killer.

Personality:

This 'old salt', having seen and done many a thing in his time, is a pragmatic and down to earth sort of mercenary with a personality that matches perfectly. So much so that he will not take on challenges that he knows he cannot win but will also attempt to keep younger, and hotter blooded, fighters in line if they get out of hand. On the other hand he is also a teacher, with plenty of stories to tell and many lesson to teach, from the correct way to plant a seed to how to handle a dirk and a sword simultaneously. In his eyes any respect is earned and until others prove themselves then they will have neither his respect nor his affection. Lastly he is quite a reposeful man and usually speaks in his raspy tones only when he must or when he is first spoken to, though he will play his pipes anywhere and everywhere.

(Will probably edit this later)

History:

Clan MacShana were once one of the pre-eminent noble families on the sparse shores of the Skerry Isles, having dominated the other families for well over a century before they were broken apart and descended very much into what they are now; mercenary warriors-for-hire that fight for the highest bidder.

Along with various other names, the MacShana 'brand' is known as one of quality and dedication, their warriors taking an oath to fight for their employers/paymasters until the bitter end and their skills at arms drilled into them with wooden substitutes as soon as they can properly grasp a pole – such was the life which young Brádach found himself flung into.

The life of Brádach MacShana, scion of a smaller cadet branch of the main clan, has been one of almost constant conflict. Training in both piping and warfare under the stern gaze of his uncles and grandfathers, possessed of many for they were an extensive family, he tasted his own blood in his mouth many times before ever being allowed to handle a sharpened weapon of metal.

Violence entered his life with cattle raids, standard enough when other resources were in short supply, and the plundering of your neighbours treasure, but soon took a turn that would see him whisked across the sea to Westar; having taken something belonging to a much more powerful clan, and knowing that it would mean his demise, his father sent him southward with a company of saffron-clad compatriots to live and die for whoever should pay them the most.

For nearly thirty years he served alongside his countrymen, their numbers dwindling away to almost nothing, before many of them decided to return home. For his own part Brádach could not, clan feuds were things that never really went away, and so he was forced to use his musical talent to earn some coin and to have his more violent skills diminish to little more than tools for throwing drunks from a tavern or collecting money for debtors.

It was only in his later years that he fell in with the Fools, mercenary work nearly gone from Westar thanks to Adalamar the Second, but his death – and the conflict that was certain to come with it – rekindled the need for strong, brutal and savage men to ply their trade once more. Brádach had been one such man, and with a few years of building himself up again, he was confident that he could be again.

Now he unofficially makes himself the musician of the Company and even more unofficial 'keeper of records', unable to write or read but with a memory that stretches back beyond his lifespan, while being able to handle oneself in a fight is never a bad thing either.

Skills and Abilities:

'Fighting' – Thought not what he once was, Brádach only made it through the 'violent years' of his existence because of what he was; although slower now in both personality and bodily movements, thoroughly when compared to the younger combatants, this has taught him to value technique above psychical might and to pick his fights carefully. Using an arming sword and one-handed axe in combat, more 'tribal' weapons than those used by many today, he possesses a proficiency in there usage that would surprise more than a few.

In short, his somewhat mantra has become economy of movement and strength over most else, something that has kept him alive thus far.

Piping – The MacShana are known for two things; mercenary service in war, and being the descendants of a long line of pipers – so much so that a 'school' of piping even began in their home glen. Brádach is one such student of this hereditary art, carrying his war-pipes with him where he goes, able to play something that sounds like a cat being strangled to something far more melodic. The practice of playing has allowed him to keep a dexterity in his hands and fingers when others may have suffered crippling arthritis, as well as to sway the emotions of others in a way that mere words would not.

The telling of tales – Men of the Skerry Isles are not know as 'the silver tongued' for nothing, their quick wit and mental gymnastics amazing peasants to foreign rulers, and their stories...oh their stories! Used to entertain and to teach from childhood to old age, the tales of the Skerry Fae and the Black Shamala – a hound born of smoke and the size of a horse – especial favourites in the home country.

Brádach slid into the role of company storyteller with relative ease, the oral bardic tradition of his homeland seeing him well, nights spent weaving tales of cattle raids to rearguard actions – taken from life experience – being some of the finest of his life. From feasts to failure he has a tale, marching through a foreign land to victory celebrations, always something to tell. For such a quiescent man he certainly can talk!

Perhaps the most valuable part of his stories are the cautionary tales; stories or epics of battles lost and won, of advice given to him and others by their lowers and their betters, of past brothers-in-arms and days of olden glory and recent atrophy. He can neither read nor write, but with a keen mind he has no need.

Weakness(es):

He's old, that pretty much sums up his major weakness.

Brádach survived infant mortality, he survived the violent younger years, he then survived what many would call 'old age' (his forties and fifties), he has survived more than most will ever live to see in their lifetimes and not without consequence.

The cold bites and gnaws at him as it never did before, his bones aching and becoming stiff of a morning and freezing night, and – in spite of keeping himself in 'good shape' – overexertion is not something anyone can accuse him of any more. Though lack of breath and ill-eyesight have not yet afflicted him, he suffers early symptoms of them both, unable to run with the pace that he once did, or to loose a ranged weapon...at all, really. Hearing, well, that has gone downhill a bit, his ears nowhere near as sharp as in the past.

Weak though he is not, age will catch up with you, and so he conserves or expends what energy he can, always bearing in mind that he just isn't the man he once was.

(May edit later)

Equipment:

(The elderly gentleman on the right in this picture, pretty much.)

Beginning with the flowing saffron shirt of his people, nothing really more than a golden-coloured smock with wide sleeves (useful for concealing weapon and plunder), it can be lengthened or shortened by the taking up or letting down of surplus cloth at the waist according to condition of climate.

In battle he wears a calf-length shirt of mail with a hood, old in design but well maintained nonetheless, and a simple brigandine of leather over the shirt. A metal 'steel cap' protects his head and an old-fashioned hand-axe paired with a simple arming sword a used for close-in fighting. His (usually reddened) legs go bare for the most part, and his feet are held in by a pair of sandals – something not really worn any more outside of the older generation on Skerry.

During cold nights and on long marches he wraps himself in a mantle known as a brat, a thick and triangular shaped garment that many compare more to a coarse and hairy rug than an actual cloak.

Lastly comes one of his most valuable items, and the only 'fancy' he allows himself, one which had been with him since he left his home, that being the set of pipes commonly known as 'warpipes' on Skerry. In most cases this is true, they can and are used for warfare as a form of martial instrument, but they can also be used for more melodic duties when outside of a battle or, should the opportunity arise, even for a dance.

[Mattchstick]

@KassarockCedric has been updated with a much better picture with much better clothing. Make sure you refresh before you analyze him :D

[Dziady]

---

Berislav

Name:
Berislav Dąbrowski

Gender:
Male

Age:
Twenty-seven

Role/Position: (Let me know if the following is ok, I tried not to take too many liberties).
Bowman/Vanguard/Scout - Job includes scouting ahead of the expedition for danger, clearing obstacles, securing lodgings for the main force and more. While most often accompanied by a body of fore-riders (who the scouts are drawn from), it is not unknown for them to travel and operate in small groups and rarer still, alone. Bolsters ranks of the bowmen during battle or positioned as an ambushing force with his fellow scouts.

Appearance:

Dark, peppered hair and deep brown eyes, there has never been a more common or forgettable face. He is not unpleasant to look at, however, there is nothing spectacular that stands out about the man either. Standing at 5ft8, Berislav is just above average height by maybe an inch, but no more. Berislav boasts a lean body most likely attributed to by his current position in the company, which he has held for a few years now; and his previous life as a simple woodsman. His most recognizable feature is a faint scar running from his forehead to roughly eye level above his cheekbone on the side of his face. Due to its prominent positioning, it is still rather obvious despite having faded over the years. It is an interesting story that Berislav would be inclined to divulge to you, if asked and over a good mead, you're buying.

Personality:
Somewhat of a loner by choice, needing -- or at least craving -- to spend lots of time by himself allowing him to think, and entertain himself. It's not that Berislav necessarily dislikes other people, in fact the opposite could be said to be true in the company of most. He has been known to be able to get along with anybody and has been described as having an affinity for people, but still disliking company once in a while. With that said, Berislav doesn't have a deep need to be around people often and can spend weeks in his own company happily.

Unfamiliar with shyness or nervousness when talking to people, including superiors, Berislav is not afraid to speak his mind although is often more reserved in his speech and actions, preferring to think first, a trait installed in him by his father from a young age.

Almost always attuned with his surroundings, as one would expect from someone in his position, Berislav very much lives in his own head. Hustle-bustle, noise, bright lights, and action tend not to distract him but rather act as a mild annoyance.

History:
Berislav was born in a small village nestled at the edge of the woodlands and foothills of Westar, due north of Old Neystead, the second child of his family following a few years after an older sister. The people of the village, primarily hunter-gatherer folk, made their living off the land; occasionally trading goods such as wood, fish and meat to travelers, merchants and at times of trouble, the larger cities of Old Neystead and Tradeforth themselves.

A blacksmith father and gatherer mother, during his early years, Berislav and his family were also joined by his grandfather, Henryk; a prominent hunter in the village who taught the young man everything he knows. From age twelve Berislav would join and assist his grandfather with hunting and by age fourteen, a year younger than the average age, he was gifted his first bow and began to take a more active role in his community. It was clear from the beginning that the adolescent had an affinity for archery and it soon became an obsession, practiced day in and day out almost every day of the week. Originally destined for a holy life in the Clerisy (something his grandfather vehemently opposed) by his father who wished a better and educated life for his first and only son. However, as fate would have it, Berislav was turned away from the church for reasons undetermined; although it is not hard to discern it was probably a mixture of education and lack of faith.

A year after Berislav's coming of age (fourteen in his particular village), much to his dismay, Henryk passed away at the age of sixty-three. The cause of death had been an infected wound, acquired from a wild boar while out on a hunt alone, it wasn't until the next day that Henryk was found by Berislav and brought back to village. It had been known early on when the herbalist indicated so that Henryk would not survive, but his death came as a shock nonetheless and a source of much grief and mourning on the whole villages' behalf for a time.

After the passing of his grandfather, Berislav began to take on more and more responsibilities around the village, although this did not last too long. Aged seventeen, another tragedy had befallen the Dąbrowski family, when now Berislav's mother also passed on from a mysterious sweating sickness that ravaged their small village, in total cutting the population in half. For a while it seemed that the siblings' father would also die, he made a miraculous recovery however, although he would never get over the loss of his beloved Dominika.

It was around the time of the devastating loss of his mother, and stealthy decline of his father's mental wellness, that Berislav left the village. Upon leaving, he was gifted a sword by his father, tentatively crafted although far from masterwork, the sword would last him many years and with maintenance has survived to the present day.

Berislav spent the next several years roaming the lands, spending short stints in larger towns and cities but never settling anywhere for too long. From Westar he made east, winding up in Avaria making a living as a woodsman in the capital of Arlan for a few months before skipping out again and continuing on his travels, this time to the north. It was in Durranheim where Berislav was first introduced to war-archery, his talents transferred well and while he never swore fealty to any single ruler, he found himself for a short time on the back line of Ragmark's archers before travelling back southwest and resettling in Westar at the age of twenty-two. It was there, in the harbour town of Innsmouth specifically, Berislav became fast friends with a young and recently promoted Serjeant of a mercenary group known as the Band of Fortune. The promise of good food, women and coin at first did not interest the young hunter, yet the Serjeant's persistence meant it was only a matter of time before Berislav would enlist and since then he's just kind of stuck to the group like glue.

Skills and Abilities:
Keen Eyes- Excellent eyesight combined with years of hunting, and arduous practice with a bow and arrow have made Berislav a talented archer; his trained eyes arguably his strongest suit. Often described by others as having the eyes of a hawk, Berislav is able to pick out details both significant and otherwise about his surroundings and opponents.

Nimble- A natural agility combined with little to no real armour and practiced reflexes makes Berislav a rather nimble being.

Swordplay- Although Berislav only truly began practicing fighting with a sword in his late teens/early adulthood, he became rather adept quite quickly. No doubt aided by his familiarity with his father's gift, reflexes and dedication. By no means is Berislav a master swordsman.

Weaknesses:
Unarmoured- Wearing little to no armour and untrained in the use of it, the only protection he is afforded is by his clothing, reflexes and a leather jerkin.

Equipment:
Recurved Composite Bow- Ash wood, Gazelle horn and Deer sinew held together with animal glue make up Berislav's personal bow. It is not his original bow, although similar in design, which was made of inferior material and began to lose its use as it delaminated with overuse. 45lbs draw weight.

Father's Gift (Bastard Sword)- This sword has been with Berislav for roughly a decade and over the years has received much love and care, well maintained. Crafted with a considerable taper and a reinforced thrusting tip, the total length of the sword comes in at 41″ with a blade length of 30″. While obviously better suited to two-handed use, if need arises the sword can be handled with relative ease using one hand. Worn on the hip.

Hunting Knife- Primarily a hunting tool, if all else fails him in battle he can use this as a last resort in defending himself. Made in the likeness of the growth of a new shoot, the knife boasts a hardwood, oaken, grip, curved blade and a total length of 17.5" with a blade length of 11". Where his sword is kept on his left, this knife is worn on his back.

Clothing- Clad in a green linen shirt dark woolen hose and knee height soft boots made of travel-worn leather. Over his shirt, Berislav wears a sleeveless jerkin, secured by braided cord ties. A thick, hooded cloak goes over this although when not needed is rolled up and carried on his back. Sports two belts, both functional, one to help hold his jerkin closed and a second to carry his sword and scabbard. A combination of the appearance photo and this should give you a fairly strong idea of his general appearance.

---

P.S. So many 6ft beasts, what is up with all the tallbois?

[Trivval]

Il Sposoletto

Il Sposoletto - 38 - Squire

Squire of Sir Ottavio Meduccoli

Appearance:

Il Sposoletto ('Letto', 'Sposo'), as his name makes reference to, is a short but stocky man standing at only 166cm and around 90kg. He has keeps his head shaved, rather than let his hair grow white due to the scars that lace his skull. He will typically let his facial hair grow out for a few months before trimming it back into a new style. His arms and back are marred with old wounds due to two decades of conflict. Used to wearing full plate armor, Il Sposoletto now makes do with a cote of plate made from his old armor, damaged beyond repair in a battle less than a year before, with mail and hardened leather reinforcing. He speaks with a heavy Taratian accent for his master, who cannot speak at all.

Personality:

Il Sposoletto is a arrogant man who, when faced with people who he perceives to be his juniors, needs to be in control. Socially,
he's open, seemingly easy to make bonds and portrays himself as a man who can be friends to everyone. He's not overly intelligent, and outside certain matters he doesn't seem very smart - maybe a little slow to understand a joke, and doesn't make it obvious he can read and write. Despite his cultivated appearance of a loyal, if slightly dumb, footman, Il Sposoletto tries to stay two steps ahead while appearing one step behind.

History:

Ottavio Meduccoli and his squire, Il Sposoletto, brought a Lance to join with the Compagnia di Fortuna two years previous, as they were contracting in Taratio. The mute knight relied on the little groom quite heavily, the two showing signs that they are long-time allies. Il Sposoletto worked quite heavily with the blacksmith and quartermaster, sourcing supplies from the countryside and calling in favours, cementing himself in their good books and as a reliable operator. Rumours follow the pair out of Taratio: a disenfranchised prince abducted and made mute by his enemies; the bastard son of the Pope maimed to prevent him talking about his parentage; a holy man under a vow of silence; a criminal who had his tongue ripped out. Neither make any attempt to refute these claims, letting speculation run wild.

One thing that does show is that both are able horsemen, through experience and training, and Il Sposoletto is well versed in wearing armour. Old, for a squire, he shows a wealth of knowledge across most of the martial practices and an impressive ability to manage equipment and numbers (especially for someone illiterate). Despite his disability, Ottavio Meduccoli is a quite vocal proponent of the newer art of military science, his attitudes provoking conflict amongst the more chivalric members of the compagnia.

Both show the scars and can tell tales of long days and nights in the desert, though no one who fought in the east can recall a mute knight.

Skills and Abilities:

• Logistician – Despite his illiteracy (or appearance of), the little groom is seemingly able to get anything he wants whenever he needs. He can track down the smallest of needles in a haystack, and seemingly can find highest quality Taratio wine in a desert.
• Near-photographic memory - Il Sposoletto can recall what his master ate for breakfast on Midsummers Day twenty years ago.
• Squire-ly Conduct – Il Sposoletto is well at ease in war councils as he is cleaning armour and tending to horses. It almost seems as though the man never sleeps and he is an excellent cook.

Weakness(es):

• Avaricious
• Amoral
• Arrogant
• Impatient
• Sarcastic
• Theatrical

Equipment:

Il Sposoletto has a longsword (although shortened due to his stature), though it is hardly ever used and typically just left on his horse, and a number of shorter swords / long knives. His primary weapons are one handed maces and two handed warhammers, bringing a surprising amount of strength to crush his enemies. Il Sposoletto utilises a cote of plate as well as chainmail, though he’s looking to get a full brigandine or set of plate, and utilises a sallet helmet with a removeable visor. Il Sposoletto carries a shield, at the moment a round shield, but typically whatever is looted from the battlefield.

[Mattchstick]

Eh, ignore this post.

[Forgiveness]

Knight Forgiveness has been summoned!

I see that I have gotten a like. Thanks.

[Kassarock]

Right then I've finished my own C.S, you can find it in the character's tab.

Tomorrow afternoon I'm going to post some feed back to the C.Ss submitted so far. Just so I have an idea of numbers, who is still planning on making a C.S. that hasn't posted a WIP or anything yet?

[POOHEAD189]

@Kassarock I'm working on mine now.

[Dziady]

Mfw GM doesn't hit that like button on my CS, I'll just twiddle my thumbs until tomorrow.

[Iuniper]

@Kassarock Working on mine currently. :)

[Hero]

Lurking and on the fence about a C.S. unless I can think of something I can bring to the table.