[CHAR] Warhammer Fantasy: The Guild of Esteemed Sellswords - An adventure in the Warhammer Fantasy world!

[Blueskin]

Meinhardt Volker

My Hider

Username: Blueskin
Character Name: Meinhardt Volker
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: Approximately 40

Career and Skills: Meinhardt was drafted into the Kutenholz 2nd Halberdier Regiment as a young man. Serving honourably, and advancing up the ranks on merit, during battles against Beastmen and Orcs in the Drakwald. In his twenties, Meinhardt was offered a post in the Delberz Greathammers, a unit modelled after the famed Teutogen Guard, though with less noble origins. The Delberz Greathammers were the personal guard of Duke Krause, and in Meinhardt's time served several tours marching in the army of Middenland. At 35, Meinhardt accepted an honourable discharge to return to Kutenholz, taking a cushy position as Captain of the Kutenholz Irregulars.

Weapons: Meinhardt favours a two handed greathammer, but also carries an all purpose hand axe and a pair of simple daggers, one on the back of his belt and the other along the shin.

Attire: The clothing of a Middenland soldier. Less flashy then the southern provinces, and now with only blue ribbons on his socks to mark his place of service. He wears a breastplate with tassets and pauldrons and vambraces.

Equipment/Other: A rucksack, equipped with everything a soldier needs on campaign.

Description: Meinhardt is tall, and well muscled. Walking with his hammer and kit, he cuts an imposing figure. He wears a faded blue cloak, and a leather arming cap over his short-cropped thinning hair. He has a great long beard, brown-blonde with streaks of grey, with a silver bead decorating the middle.
Personality: Meinhardt Volker is taciturn and no-nonsense. He has an officers bearing, and is quick to act. He readily and plainly offers advice, and follows orders swiftly.

Background: Only months after taking command of the Kutenholz Irregulars, the call went out for all fighting units to converge on Grossfurre. Captain Volker mustered his men then marched them immediately. They, among others from the area arrived swiftly to repel a great horde of beastly warriors from the deep woods. During the long battle, lasting two days and a night, many more reinforcements came to relieve Grossfure and in the end the forces of Men were successful. Of the Kutenholz Irregulars, however, there were only a half dozen survivors, one of which was Meinhardt Volker.

His retirement in flames, Volker immediately marched south into Reikland, eager to be away from his cold homeland and more importantly the responsibility of command. Since then, he's signed on with various mercenary companies before finally landing himself with the Guild of Esteemed Sellswords, using the only skills he has to amass enough wealth to retire in peace.

[Lucian]

The Lion

Username
Lucian

Character Name
Galadred "The Lion"

Race/Species
Asur

Gender
Male

Age
122

Career Overview
Galadred is the descendant of one of the White Lions of Chrace and can claim a rich familial ancestry that goes back nearly to the founding of the order. As such, it was fated that he join their ranks at a young age (for an elf) after demonstrating great martial ability and a knack for good leadership. At the age of fifty, Galadred set out to hunt and kill a white lion, the beasts for which the order he sought entry into was named. Though the rite of passage into the order cost him his handsome and pristine elven features (The beast landed a near-fatal blow to Galadred's face, resulting in a long, permanent scar) he nevertheless overcame the Lion, and claimed it's pelt as a badge of honour, and a symbol of his acceptance into the order of the White Lions. He served as a Lion exceptionally for fifty years, and took up the defense of countless Noble Families of Ulthuan.

Eventually, however, he was involved in a scandal which, to his chagrin, resulted in his expulsion from Ulthuan. Since then, Galadred has wandered the Old World as a mercenary, to various degrees of success. While his skill is not in question (indeed, he is somewhat famous for his martial prowess among mercenaries) he is choosy about what cause he will sell his blade to, tending to prefer escort and defense missions to anything else, and he never supports forces he deems unworthy. While this code of Mercenary ethics is relatively cumbersome when it comes to the acquisition of wealth, combined with his proficiency in combat, it has lead to his semi-fame in the mercenary world, and his moniker of The Lion, though his appearance certainly contributed to this as well.

Weapons
Argent Roar is Galadred's signature weapon. The ancestral battleaxe of his family, passed down through generations of White Lions, each adding their own flair and enchantments to the weapon, as is the custom. The blade is formed of Ithilmar, and the weapon is thus extremely light and wieldy. At a command from it's wielder, the axe's blade can be magically 'ignited,' causing it to glow with a brilliant radiance. When swung in this state, the axe seems to roar as it cuts the wind, this is the enchantment for which the weapon gained its name. Aside from this enchantment, the weapon has countless enchantments of sharpening and preservation, ensuring that even to this day, despite centuries of use, it is as pristine as ever.

Aside from Argent Roar, Galadred keeps a small, ordinary dagger at his belt.

Attire
Ithilmar Armour in the style of the White Lions, though with his family's noble heraldry and any signs or marks of his merit in service to the Phoenix Court removed, and without the tall helmet that is another signature of the order.

Equipment/Other
Galadred still wears the pelt of the white lion. Despite his exile from Ulthuan, it serves as a testament to his past exploits and skill. In a more utilitarian manner, the thick pelt can be used to great effect to tangle and deflect light missiles such as arrows.

Physical Description
Like any high elf, Galadred is tall and graceful in his movement, with handsome angular features to his fair-skinned face. However, the similarities end there. He is well-toned and strong in appearance, barely retaining the lithe physique of his kin for all of his muscle. The left side of his face is marred by three claw marks that run straight down from his forehead to his chin, cutting through the left side of his nose and clefting his lip, the result of his fight with the white lion. His ithilmar armour is a few pieces shy of the full set, giving Galadred a sort of uneven and worn, yet undeniably noble look. His beautifully blond hair is cut short and unkempt, in a permanent state of "bed-head," something rarely seen on an elf, as the length of their hair is often as important to them as the beard is to a dwarf. Even when out of his armour, Galadred is rarely seen without his white lion pelt cloak. The cloak itself is massive, thick, and heavy, with the lion's head resting on Galadred's left shoulder like a pauldron. Galadred's overall appearance evokes past glories, dimmed by shame and exile, but still bright enough to be worthy of note.

Mental Description/Personality
Galadred is haughty to a degree, though less so than many high-elves due to his humbling shame, and exile from his homeland. His life in the Old World among humans and Dwarfs and sell-swords of all types has lead to a blunting of his noble elven refinement and though he is still poised and respectful for the likes of a mercenary, he is considered brash and crude for one of the Asur. Despite this, he is kindhearted and will always step in to fight injustice or evil as he sees it, and protect those who cannot protect themselves.

Background/History
As previously mentioned, Galadred rose to the ranks of the White Lions at an early age and served exceptionally as a guard for many nobles of the Phoenix Court, so in this section I'll just focus on the events leading up to his exile. Galadred fell in love with the scion of one of the noble houses he was meant to be protecting. It was forbidden, as the noble was bound in marriage to another. However, the attraction was mutual, and Galadrad and the other noble began a clandestine affair. The affair lasted for a long time, with Galadred becoming the personally appointed guard of the noble's family and head of their security detail. Despite the dishonour of keeping their relationship hidden, it worked well for many years, until a Dark Elf raid on the noble family's compound forced Galadred to choose between saving his lover's life, or that of the noble's family. Resources would not allow for both. Galadred chose his lover, and after he and his contingent of White Lions had saved the young noble, they pushed the Druchii to route and secured the compound.

However, the Dark Elves had not left empty-handed. They had taken the noble's family, likely to work as slaves until death, as was the dark elf way. Galadred's lover was furious, wracked with guilt, and lacking any vent, he turned on Galadred. Galadred's blunder was revealed to the Phoenix Court, and in the fashion of high elven politics, the scandal was revealed. The Noble blamed Galadred for all of it, claiming that he had been coerced by Galadred, and that his advances were unwanted. Galadred pleaded his case as best he could, but it was his word against the scion of a noble house who had the ear of the Phoenix King. So, Galadred lost his hereditary title, his place among the White Lions, and even his place in Ulthuan. He was only allowed to keep his family's axe, as there were no other heirs to wield it, and his equipment from his time as a Lion. So, with only that in hand, he set off to the Old World, bitter and scornful.

In the Old World, he found new purpose in the life of a mercenary. He found that he could still protect people, which was his passion, and so he often took contracts which allowed him to escort merchants or join in the defense of small settlements. Eventually, after making something of a name for himself in the mercenary community, he joined the Guild Of Esteemed Sellswords.

[Dusty]

Frans Vou

I

Username: Dusty

Character Name: Francois Vou of House Bluspereaux/Frans Vou

Race/Species: Bretonnian

Gender: Male

Age: Twenty and one year’s

Career (if any) and Skills: Frans Vou is a Knight Errant of Bretonnia. A son of the wealthy Bluspereaux house Frans Vou was well trained in the arts befitting his station. As such he is a capable chevalier in all aspects, and he’s handy with both sword and lance. He can also speak the language of the Empire and the High Elves, and is well versed with a lute and can recite several famous poems and epics. His high class education did not end there however. Great things are expected from the Bluspereaux family, and so Frans Vou found himself trained to competence in hunting and strategy, in diplomatic expertise, and conversation. The latter two were Frans Vou’s lesser loved classes. He was also tutored on astronomy and mathematics and literature, and for a short while he even studied a little of the sciences though little came of that. And of course chivalry and the worship of the Lady of The Lake which are expected fields of study from any young Bretonnian knight.

Weapons: While astride his warhorse Frans Vou wields his trusty lance and heater shield to great effect. The lance is endowed with the heaven’s magic keeping it from shattering, blessed by a damsel of the lady. It was one of the few things passed down to Frans Vou and he adores it. Should the enchanted weapon be wrenched from his grasp Frans Vou has an arming sword and dirk at his waist ready for quick use as well.

Attire: Frans Vou’s favorite color is a royal blue. As such his armor and clothing often matches this particular taste. His armor tunic is a deep shade of blue with lioness designs embroidered in bronze, with a black leather sword belt and bronze buckles strapped around his stomach. The armor is gleaming iron plate and chainmail. While out of his armor Frans Vou dons a cinnamon tunic and trousers, draping a sky blue cloak around his shoulders. All of his outfits are finished with a pair of tall riding boots and golden spurs.

Equipment/Other Frans Vou has very little in terms of proper equipment beyond his armor and weapons. He’s used to comfortable living and would dictate that his servants carry and care for whatever gear and shelter he might require while journeying. To do just that Frans Vou brought with him his page Adrian, a young lad of thirteen years, and his loyal manservant Moreau. Both of whom follow the young knight astride loaded mules wherever he might wander, dutifully attending his every whim.

Physical Description: Frans Vou is tall, about six foot, one. His hair is a dirty blonde, cut neatly off at the shoulder level. His eyes are a plain brown and squinty, seemingly sunk into his sallow face and contrasted against his hooked nose. He could be considered quite handsome if he didn’t always look like he’d just stepped in something revolting. Frans Vou is rather thin and lanky, but has enough meat on his bones to look capable enough in a brawl. His long limbs serve him well in this regard, giving him that slight extra reach. He typically stands straight back and tall, his feet planted firmly and one hand resting on his sword hilt. Frans Vou is very much a noble son of Bretonnia, and in many ways embodies the facets of the royal elite that govern the great kingdom.

Mental Description/Personality: While holding a vast number of traits, Frans Vou is by no means a humble or compassionate man. Arrogant and proud the young Knight Errant views himself as the smartest, and noblest of men. Often gracing peasants and commoners with his presence and even a few coins if he’s feeling generous. Although he’s cocky, Frans Vou isn’t stupid, and is in fact quite intelligent. He is also a social person and can be very easy to get along with, quick to slap a friends back and shake a companion’s hand and drink fine wine with them late into the night. As long as one can stomach his unfettered arrogance the young knight can be a good friend to have in all circumstances. However Frans Vou can also be petty and unforgiving. Not quick to the sword, but merciless when driven to anger. He is also very determined, and can be difficult to persuade once his mind has been set.

Background/History: House Bluspereaux is a large family living in southwestern Bretonnia, in a great manor. The Noble House is well known for producing brave knights, and honorable noblemen for the high class, and has never failed to ride in haste once summoned by the king or their lords. There the fields are filled, the vines rich, and the forest thin. Winters tend to be a little harsher due to their close proximity to the southern mountains, but never enough to worsen the living state of the static population, and thus nobody cared much that the taxes were a bit higher than the bordering lands. It was blessing enough to know there would always be food on the table, and a fearless knight in the castles to protect the common folk.

It was here in the mild lands of House Bluspereaux that Francois Vou Bluspereaux, son of Vincent Vou Bluspereaux was born. Raised as all boys of noble blood ought to be, Frans Vou’s upbringing was meticulous and strategized. It was easy to plan after all, Vincent having already had fourteen sons to struggle with before Frans Vou. The years passed quickly for the lad, and he spent his time studying and training to become a grand knight like his ancestors before him. His arrogant demeanor was considered normal by the Bluspereaux family, and was often even encouraged by the manor staff and his immediate family. This came to a head however when Frans Vou discovered a terrible truth. He’d been born one place short.

Indeed, Vincent had no more lands to divide up between his many children leaving Frans Vou with title of his own. Furious at such a slight of nature Frans Vou fulminated for days and nights at his father and mother demanding his birth right, but to no avail. There was simply nothing to be done, and the young man settled into a slumping depression. It was like this that on his twenty first birthday when he was knighted and given lance and golden spurs that Frans Vou realized he would have to take matters into his own hands, should he ever wish to preside over proper lands of his own. But first he would have to anger his father to punish him for such a monstrous slight.

The scheme as Frans Vou saw it was simple. He was now a Knight Errant, charged with finding some great beast to slay, or adventure to attend, or damsel to save. So in order to infuriate his father while completing his duty Frans Vou decided to join a band of Imperial Mercenaries and adventurers, and depart on his grand quest in their company. Frans Vou in all his youthful arrogance announced this plan with bold confidence during the evening meal, the night before he departed. As expected his father became furious, and raved at his foolish son who would so willingly soil the family name with such petty actions, but to little affect. It was a cold, and gloomy morning following day, frosty not from the chilled air but from the livid anger that radiated off the castle walls. Frans Vou and his manservant Moreau and page Adrian left early, departing for Rottfurt at an easy pace not wanting to spend a second more within the Bluspereaux manor.

[Drinky]

Balgrim

Username: Drinky

Character Name: Balgrim Steelpick

Race/Species: Dwarf

Gender: Male

Age:55

Career: Ranger

Skills: Stealth, Scouting, and throwing weapons.

Weapons: 8 Throwing Axes. A Two Handed Single Bit Axe.

Attire: Balgrim wears a dark green cloak accompanied by a light green, well kept tunic.

Equipment/Other: Having spent much time outside his hold as a ranger, Balgrim keeps many essential camping supplies with him as he travels. Within a backpack nestled beneath his cloak he keeps a bedroll, a cooking pot, climbing rope, a generous supply of rations, and a few cigars.

Physical Description:Balgrim stands proudly at 3'11". With warm dark brown eyes strangers often feel comforted by his demeanor. His beard reaches down to his belly-button and is tied rather simply in a single large braid down the center of his chest. Underneath his hood Balgrim's brown hair is kept short. Even looking at a distance Balgrim is considerably heftier than the average dwarf, with a noticeable belly peeking over the belt and pouches tied around his waist. His skin carries an uncommon hint of color in it not found in most hold dwelling dwarfs given his considerable time spent on the surface.

Mental Description/Personality: Balgrim is a friendly dwarf and used to enjoy meeting new faces during his patrols as a ranger. He enjoys teasing people, and would frequently joke around with his fellow rangers. Balgrim would often see just how far he could take his jokes and insults with others to the point of upsetting them.

In combat Balgrim would often continue with his joking, taunting the enemy at every opportunity and giving his allies guff over how they fought. He does this as a coping mechanism of sorts as truth be told he didn't enjoy being in combat. Balgrim hated seeing things die. The way they twitched and slowly recoiled in their death rattles made him feel physically ill.

Background/History: Balgrim was born in Karak Norn to the Dothri clan. His upbringing was as normal as any dwarf, having been born into a moderately wealthy family of mine owners. However during his early 20's his family took on a risky business venture and 'bet the farm' on the discovery of a new gold vein. The Dothri clan poured all their resources into this one site they had discovered, transferring machinery and employees from their other veins and selling off the deeds for more equipment towards this new gold vein. However during the setup of all the new equipment an error was made and a massive cave-in occurred around the vein's location. This destroyed much of the new equipment his clan had purchased forcing them to seek a loan for even more digging tools just to regain access to their lost vein.

His family never recovered from this setback, and interest has steadily been climbing despite the vein being reclaimed. The debt had become so immense that not even selling the deed to the vein could hope to repay it. His family and employees continued to work themselves to the bone to even meet minimal payments. Balgrim however, did not share their stubbornness.

In his early youth he pursued the career of a Ranger, tending to the lands surrounding the Karak Norn. He met traders and mercenaries who spoke of the fortunes they made in faraway lands. After tirelessly serving his hold for many years, he submitted an application for an extended leave of absence from his assigned post. He longed to go out in the world and find a better way to help his family repay their debt. After a few years of military politics and many explanations, his commanding officer granted his request and Balgrim set off to the realms of the Umgi.

[Andreyich]

Waldemar

Username: @Andreyich

Character Name: Vladimir (or Waldemar, which he typically uses in unfamiliar company) Ivanovich Vetrov

Race/Species: Kislevite Human

Gender: Male

Age: 26

Career and Skills: Vlad has spent much time honing magical skills in the Imperial colleges but they are not nearly as good as can be, for there were few other ice mages there to pass on their specialized skills to him. As such, most of his powers are uncontrolled bursts of his ice magic fuelled by emotion, desire or desperation. However, on days where the winds of magic flow truly strong he can manage up to three unique spells of his respective school. From his studies and Noble upbringing he did receive a few more skills. First is fencing and swordplay which he can at least hold his ground in, and is improved by the blood-freezing cold in his blades. The other important skill he got is speech in several languages; both main Kislevite tongues (Ungol and Gospodar), Bretonnian, Reikspiel, and Norscan, all of which he is a good negotiator and fluent in save for the rolled "R"s.

Weapons: The only real 'weapons' in possession of the Kislevite are two familial blades (one a Shashka, and one a Szabla) and a long staff with a crystal of ice or diamond at the top cut to a fine point so the weapon could be used as a spear.

Attire: The man has little in the way of armour, preferring to just wear his round fur hat or 'papapkha,' along with simple trousers, tunic, a heavy fur coat and leather boots with steel caps.

Equipment/Other: He has little in the way of equipment other than his old but tough horse "Paul" along with spurs, saddle bags and saddle, reins, and whatever else he will need for the old boy. He always makes sure to have a pot, kettle, tea leaves, sugar and butter with him for a very strong and nourishing tea to help him end the feebleness he feels after using magic.

Physical Description: The Kislevite is of moderate height at 5'11 with pale white skin contrasted by mud-brown hair and icy blue slightly Asiatic eyes, as well as a very ruddy complexion. His face is very elongated and aquiline save for the small nose and small forehead with a low hairline. A distinctive physical features is a scar on both hands where excess thumbs were amputated. Vlad is double jointed at many points in his body (wrists, thumbs, elbows, knees) and has a naturally very lanky build that despite years of hard work driving him to the peak of his muscularity is still not very much above average and is best described as sinewy.

Mental Description/Personality: Vlad is a polite and helpful if somewhat impatient man, that will always put a coin in a beggar's hand. That said he had a somewhat irate and unpredictable personality with mood swings and such. He is still very affected by a longing for home, and the fact that even if he does safely get there he will not be able to see his father is just more melancholic.

Background/History:
Vladimir was born to an affluent Gospodar family outside of Praag doing business with the Ungols of the city. His father was a rather stereotypical Kislevite nobleman; a bulky man with a red face, a beard, a constant friendly laugh verging on a guffaw and a warm heart. His mother was somewhat inverse, an Ice Witch. She married him just as many Ice Witches marry noblemen to make sure their sorority keeps power in the country. She was a stunning lady with the usual charms that let her seduce his father. Yet, everywhere else she was a cold and calculating person with her duty first and foremost in her mind all that time.

As the boy grew he was mostly raised by his father and his tutors having a rather happy but isolated life spending most days hunting, fishing, riding with his father or lazily pretending to do what his mentors desired of him.

However, at some point in the near future things were to change oh so drastically. A raiding party of Norscans had just plowed through a nearby river and was going to a pond where he and his father were. To their luck the family had their body Guards with them which more than stood their ground, but just as the assault happened his father was thrown into the icy water to drown by the Northerners.

As Vlad looked on at his struggling parent with tears, he was overcome with grief and anger, and felt something within as many magically gifted people do at their first exhibition of their power. He screamed and flexed a few fingers to suddenly water under his father freeze and push the man out on a small floe of ice.

At this point the teen boy was exhausted from the magical exertion had had undergone, and lapsed from consciousness. His father however, got out of the water and soon realized what had just happened. The aging man had to think quickly and called home for some of his most trusted men. The boy was re-dressed and put in a coach. When he came to his sense, his father had a long talk with him. It was filled with many tears and much lament but there was no choice. If the boy was to come home it would be at most a few days before either his mother killed him. Two family swords, much money and an old family servant who both knew would defend and help the boy until either of them passed. He was sent off to the Imperial colleges of magic, to most likely never see hearth and home again.

When he arrived in the Empire he was quite surprised, and it took much adjustment. He began his studies working as hard as he could, learning about the winds of magic. Eventually his servant passed away, and this coincided almost perfectly with his money running out. He had to take one work elsewhere to subside properly, menial stuff like washing, or even cleaning privies. However, he got the most he could from his learning until about a year ago when he reached the peak of what the colleges could teach him. When this truly dawned, Vladimir now a young man decided to find his fortunes elsewhere. He saved up for a short time, and now set out to find himself work, fame, glory, and a life that wouldn't have him hunched by his thirties. Thus, he set put for the guild of esteemed sellswords to make use of his unique talents and abilities.

[POOHEAD189]

Drimbold the Longbeard

Username:POOHEAD189

Character Name: Drimbold Balkinson

Race/Species: Dawi (Longbeard)

Gender: Male

Age: 253

Career (if any) and Skills: Drimbold has been a professional Dwarf soldier for most of his life. He began as a miner in Karaz-a-Karak, before a Grobi incursion erupted within one of the holes his group had dug in. He was enlisted as a soldier, and found it to be his calling, even being promoted to Ironbreaker. He knows how to fight, he knows the structure of tunnels and the mining of ore. He can somewhat smith mundane items, though while this would be superb to manlings, it would not be the best Dwarf work. He also knows how to read a battlefield and map terrain.

Weapons: Gromril Axe, 3 steel Throwing Axes

Attire: Leather jerkin over Gromril chainmail, with a steel helmet and sturdy trousers and steel boots, along with steel greaves, pauldrons, and bracers.

Equipment/OtherHe carries a small travel sack, with a small blanket, a flask of bugman's, a pipe with pipeweed, and a locket of his family.

Physical Description (as detailed as possible please, pictures not accepted.): This longbeard is weathered, with gnarled, leather skin covered in scar tissue telling of ancient battles. His hair on his head is close cropped, yet his beard flows past his knees and is adorned with bronze fixings with khazalid symbols, creating 7 separate ends of his beard. Though his hair is grey and his iron eyes speak of a lifetime of wisdom, he is intensely muscled and broad. Somewhat tall for a Dwarf, the top of his helmet is still no higher than the average manling's navel.

Mental Description/Personality: Drimbold is initially what you would expect most Longbeards to be. Dour, grumbling, wise yet brawny and still fit. However he has a deep sadness and infuriating, simmering anger beneath his beard that most need to look hard at to see, for when his family was slain, he found that even the death of the Boss who did it didn't fully sate his rage at the injustice of the world. Drimbold is not without his comraderie and light heartedness however, for he enjoys campaigning and a good smoke of pipeweed. Long marches ease his mind, and he isn't above giving wise advice to the manlings or younger members of his company.

Background/History: Drimbold Balkinson was born in Karaz-a-Karak to the Stoneguard Clan. Avid miners, Drimbold was a mere beardling when he began his mining career, only for him to get a taste of battle through a small Grobi incursion. He picked up his mattock and battered three to death before he and his companions escaped. He signed up as a soldier in order to get vengeance on those Grobi daring to attack the great hold, wanting to live up to his ancestor's deeds. However, he would be called to join the young, as-of-yet-to-be-Highking, Thorgrim Grudgebearer, to the north when the Chaos Incursion invaded Kislev. He was but merely 30 when he set out, and when he returned some years later he seemed a far more confident and wiser Dwarf, having faced Daemons and terrors and lived to tell the tale. Not only that, but he and Throgrim's retinue met and re-established contact with Kraka-Drak in the North.

When Thorgrim was crowned High King, those warriors who had distinguished themselves were given rewards. Drimbold asked for the honor of joining the Ironbreakers, that most prestigious of Warrior Orders. As the years progressed, he fought against the vile Skaven and the Greenskins of the dark. During his leaves, he met a young buxom beauty and fell in love with her, marrying her and fathering sons. It was when Drimbold was disrcharged to live in the countryside with his family that his life came crashing down, for Orcs attacked the passes in the World's Edged Mountains. As Drimbold was visiting a cousin in Karaz-A-Karak, his family was slain by a small time Nob boss, Gorlok Grimjaw. Drimbold spent five years hunting him down and slaying him, after receiving recompense for the lackluster rangers, a number of them shaving their heads.

With no home and no more military service, and with a great wish for violence left in him, he became a mercenary.

[TJByrum]

Jebidiah 'Jeb' Braun

Username: @tjbyrum

Character Name: Jebidiah 'Jeb' Braun

Race/Species: Human / Hochlander

Gender: Male

Age: 24

Career (if any) and Skills: Jeb was born and raised in Hochland, a province of the Empire known for its natural-born hunters, trappers, and survivalists. It is no surprise, then, that Jeb carries the specific traits of a Hochlander with him. He shows exceptional skill with his Hochlander Long Rifle, is an avid hunter, long-range marksman, tracker, survivalist, and trapper.

Weapons
Hochland Long Rifle
2 Pistols
Sword

Attire: Jeb is a commoner and wears a dark green undershirt with a brown leather jerkin. He also wears brown traveling trousers and boots. A red-lined grey cape hangs over one shoulder, and a plumed hat sits on his head. He also owns a self-crafted fur cloak which keeps him warm and safe from the elements.

Equipment/Other
Aside from carrying extra gunpowder and ammunition for his firearms, Jeb also carries a hunting knife and various items that assist him in hunting and trapping.

Physical Description (as detailed as possible please, pictures not accepted.): Jeb stands six feet and weighs 170 lbs. He is an average sized man, well-built and stout. His dark brown eyes are set upon a determined stone face, the lower part of the latter covered by his long bushy beard. His only scar originates from a self-inflicted gash on his left index finger, sliced open by his hunting knife.

Mental Description/Personality: Jeb is a humble man from Hochland. His bravery and courage is no doubt overshadowed by his inexperience and naivete. Nevertheless, he is strong-willed, determined, and willing to see things through. He admires companionship and will do all that he can to protect his allies.

Background/History: Jeb was born and raised in Hochland, in a small hamlet just down the road from Esk. His father, a veteran of battle, was a logger who often worked in the nearby town, and his mother maintained the house and raised the children. When not playing with his brothers and sisters, Jeb was commonly collecting firewood or fishing for supper. As he got older he taught himself to trap various critters that roamed Hochland's wilds.

Ultimately, in his teen years, he was forced to accompany his father and brothers and work as a logger in Esk. Jeb never enjoyed this life, and preferred the wilderness. Fortunately, he was allowed to hunt on occasion, and his fellow loggers enjoyed the fruits of his success.

One day the town of Esk was targeted by a herd of Beastmen. All of the men, women, and children spread throughout the countryside made their way to town, and it was there they would put up a defense. Jeb's father gave him his own Hochlander Long Rifle, having used it in the wars years ago. It was during the resulting battle that Jeb not only impressed himself, but impressed all of those in Esk. He was a crackshot marksman, as accurate as he was steady.

Jeb spent a few more years as Esk's premiere huntsman, but more recently he has been interested in doing mercenary work - where he can apply his marksman skills for higher wages, and more adventure.

[Laduguer]

Vargni Varnsson

Username: Laduguer

Character Name: Vargni Varnsson

Race/Species: Dwarf

Gender: Male

Age: 37

Career and Skills:

Vargni is a Slayer with nearly a decade under his belt, rendering him still relatively inexperienced compared to the mighty (if tragic) heros that share his legacy, but nevertheless making him proficient at fighting with twin dwarven hand-axes. Living with his rampant and violent depression has also given him an uncommon sort of mental tenacity, which can often be as good a skill as fighting amongst the many horrors of the Old World.

Weapons: Two hand-axes of dwarven make, named endearingly ‘Zank’ and ‘Varaz’ respectively.

Attire:

Vargni wears a pair of dark linen trousers, heavy leather boots, and normally goes shirtless where weather allows. However, even dwarves cannot survive freezing (and this would not at all be the glorious death he swore), so Vargni also carries with him a heavy yak fur coat which he can fling on and off.

Equipment/Other:

A backpack [containing a bedroll, a bottle of high proof liquor, some bandages, a dried ham hock], lots of cheap jewellery (rings, bracelets, piercings, mostly of iron or brass).

Physical Description:

Vargni has a short cropped mohawk dyed dark orange, stiff and matted with dried fat. Although his hands are worn and calloused, his young body is still in good shape and does not bear the signs of battle and wear boasted by most older dwarves, and particularly most older slayers. His beard is unkempt and spreads from his face down across his breast in a broad bush.

Mental Description/Personality:

Vargni is – at his core – a deeply depressed and violent alcoholic, who seeks to forget his existential fear either in the extreme sensation of battle or at the bottom of a bottle. Nevertheless, ironically, this lifestyle does lend Vargni a certain sense of purpose. In losing everything and ultimately forfeiting his life, he has entered into a career with a definite destiny and a definite function to serve, where – despite feelings of deep inadequacy and failure – he can feel like something of a role model to others that may not have experienced the pain or hardships that he has, or that may be struggling themselves to overcome some inner turmoil.

Therefore, whilst Vargni is a thoroughly unreliable friend and partner, he is nevertheless not altogether antisocial, readily throwing in his thoughts on a particular philosophy or topic of debate, and always eager to listen to the woes of others.

His erratic tendency to seek out danger also lends him a sort of altruistic nature, always keen to put himself in harms way before his companions, which perhaps makes his violent alcoholism more forgivable to those forced to co-exist with him.

Background/History:

Vargni was born into the Grimgrunstok Clan, as the younger scion of the clan’s ruling elder. At the time of Vargni’s birth, the clan inhabited a region in the mountains to the south of the Imperial province of Wissenland. They had purchased a plot in this region two decades ago, working on a reliable tip from an ancient surveying text that had suggested the presence of gold in the area. The clan followed the elders here, and settled the town of Zaraz Goruz.

Unfortunately, after thirty years of toil, the clan had found only coal. Whilst trading this coal produced a respectable income for the clan, in time the mines began to tap out, and as a result so did the coffers of the clan. Several poor financial decisions were made at this point out of desperation; loans taken out to purchase better equipment, promises made to investors of a return on their coin in gold given time. The tale of these sorry happenings does not need to be told. Needless to say, when they had passed, the clan was in dire straits indeed and no longer in possession of Zaraz Goruz.

The clan settled a dwarven shanty town in the highlands of Wissenland, scraping a poor living together. Many left to seek fortune elsewhere, but some remained out of hope or a sense of duty. Amongst those who left was Vargni’s elder brother and the heir to the clan, who perhaps had more good sense than he. Vargni remained, tending to his father who had been taken badly ill. On his deathbed, his father expressed his regrets about the clan’s fate, but bade Vargni to respect family law and go follow his brother, leaving behind their wasted time in Zaraz Goruz. As his dying act, he entrusted to Vargni his most precious clan heirloom – a lord’s crown made of solid gold and encrusted with a number of rare gems – and bade him to pass it on to his brother at the earliest opportunity.

Vargni did not do this. Unwilling to accept failure and angered by the departure of his elder brother, Vargni instead resolved to retake Zaraz Goruz and deliver the remaining members of the clan in Wissenland to a more worthy destiny. In an act of drunken confidence, he sold the crown entrusted to him by his father to pay off his clan’s remaining debt, and planned to use the rest to buy back Zaraz Goruz. Unfortunately, he found Zaraz Goruz now in the hands of another human merchant, who asked triple what they had originally sold it for, a sum far beyond Vargni’s means.

Having squandered his clan’s heirloom, and faced with the prospect of a life starting again from the bottom as a humble miner or labourer in some distant Karak, or as a bootlicking peddler in a human settlement, Vargni fell into a deep depression. He felt overcome with the sense of unfairness that good, hard-working dwarves should be allowed to fall into such a sorry state. What hope was there in a world where such things could happen?
A more weak willed dwarf might have simply jumped into a river at this point. A more rational one might have accepted fate and gotten back to work. Vargni, however, elected to take the third option faced by desperate and ashamed young dwarves. Eight years have passed since that day, and Vargni is still seeking a way to fulfil his Slayer oath.

[Jb]

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