[CHAR] The Blighted Kingdom

[Roman]

H E R O E S O F T H E R E A L M:

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|| S N O W B A L L E as WRI STONETAKEN, the Eerum Urchin

|| N I B as RODERICK PELGRIFF, the Iron Bear

|| D R A G as CLAUDIUS, the Shadow of Vasilius

|| L I S E R A N T H I S T L E as LOWE HARMOND, the Orphan Cartographer

|| S E A R A T as GAIUS BRADFORD, the Hound

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Example Sheet

C H A R A C T E R

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^{"Optional Creedo/Quote"}

^{B I R T H N A M E ♦ A G E ♦ S E X ♦ A L I G N M E N T}

Ω O R I G I N S:

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This is the story of your character's life, their defining moments and how they made it from the womb to where they are now. You can include as much other details as you think is necessary but don't go overboard and spell everything out. Sometimes its best to show through the IC than to tell in the CS.

Ω A B I L I T I E S / S K I L L S:

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//ABILITIES:

◼ TBD | Test

//SKILLS:

◼ TBD | Test

//LIMITATIONS:

◼ TBD | Test

//WEAKNESSES:

◼ TBD | Test

Ω N O T E S:

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◼ Any further notes your character may require.

[CENTER][h1][color=slategray][b]C H A R A C T E R[/b][/color][/h1]
[sup][color=silver]"Optional Creed"[/color][/sup]
[img]IMAGE/BANNER[/img]
[h3][sup][sup][color=slategray]B I R T H N A M E   [color=slategray]♦[/color]    A G E    [color=slategray]♦[/color]   S E X   [color=slategray]♦[/color]   A L I G N M E N T[/color][/sup][/sup][/h3][/CENTER]
[COLOR=slategray][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]Ω   O R I G I N S:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT]
[/COLOR][indent][indent][i][color=silver]This is the story of your character's life, their defining moments and how they made it from the womb to where they are now. You can include as much other details as you think is necessary but don't go overboard and spell everything out. Sometimes its best to show through the IC than to tell in the CS.[/color][/i][/indent][/indent]
[COLOR=slategray][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]Ω   A B I L I T I E S / S K I L L S:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT]
[/COLOR][indent][b][color=slategray]//ABILITIES:[/color][/b]
[indent][B][COLOR=silver]◼ TBD |[/COLOR][/B] [i]Test[/i][/indent]
[b][color=slategray]//SKILLS:[/color][/b]
[indent][B][COLOR=silver]◼ TBD |[/COLOR][/B] [i]Test[/i][/indent]
[b][color=slategray]//LIMITATIONS:[/color][/b]
[indent][B][COLOR=silver]◼ TBD |[/COLOR][/B] [i]Test[/i][/indent]
[b][color=slategray]//WEAKNESSES:[/color][/b]
[indent][B][COLOR=silver]◼ TBD |[/COLOR][/B] [i]Test[/i][/indent][/indent]
[COLOR=slategray][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]Ω   N O T E S:[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT]
[/COLOR][indent][indent][i][color=silver]◼ Any further notes your character may require.[/color][/i][/indent][/indent]

[Roman]

R U L E S O F T H E R E A L M:

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Rules on Character Creation:​

• Character applications should be made by posting complete sheets in the OOC for review by the GM(s). Incomplete or ‘WIP’ progress should not be posted and will be ignored.
​
• Applications will not be approved until the GM(s) has/have had proper time to look over the sheet and discuss any issues in the sheets with the applicants. Please keep an open mind while tweaking your character with the GM(s), and please don’t nag.
​
• Players are permitted only one primary character. This character can die and be replaced, but good reason must be given to the GM(s) for the action to be considered.

Rules on the Out of Character Thread:​

• Respect the Game Master. The GM’s word is final, and if a law is laid then do not argue or disregard it. Failure to adhere will result in ejection from the game and a polite request not to return.
​
• Respect your fellow players. Debate and constructive criticism is fine; flaming and outright nastiness is not. If you feel there are glaring issues with another player that must be addressed, contact the GM privately. Failure to adhere will result in ejection from the game and a polite request not to return.
​
• If a quarrel arises between players, either ask the GM to adjudicate, or take it to a private format. Do not use the OOC Thread to quibble among yourselves.
​
• Feel free to chat, but try not to let talk unrelated to the game run rampant.

Rules on the In Character Thread:​

• Posting at least once a week is to be expected in order to maintain a steady pace and flow. Try to post in the OOC Thread, or message the GM, if circumstances arise which make this difficult. Characters and their players that become inactive will eventually be removed from the game.
​
• Do not take control of another player’s character without express permission from both the player involved and the GM as to the extent of the actions. Doing so will be counted as God-Modding or Meta-Gaming, and will be considered a serious offence. Killing another character without permission will result in removal of the post, immediate ejection from the game, and a polite request not to return.

• No OOC posting in the IC Thread. That’s what the OOC Thread is for. Obviously.

[Snowballe]

W R I S T O N E T A K E N

^{"If you cannot hold it, it's not yours."}

^{W R I ♦ 1 6 ♦ F E M A L E ♦ N E U T R A L}

Ω O R I G I N S:

Eerum is not friendly. He's jealous, and he'll snatch anything you think to hold dear just to watch you cry. Then he'll steal the water of your tears and laugh at your thirst. That's just the way he is. Once you understand that, though, you can get far in life. Just don't hold anything dear. The Travelers don't get it. They pass through on their fat wagons pulled by waterlogged beasts and somehow expect that Eerum will just see them on. They hold their lives dear, their oxen dear, their cargo dear... And I've watched one after another be shattered when the city reminds them of their place.

I'm not a Traveler, not in any sense of the word. I can't remember a time before I came to Eerum, and I've always assumed that meant I was born here. I don't have a foreign family; my only relative is my twin brother, Liem. If I had parents, I don't want to know them. I blame them for my life here, and even if I grew to forgive them, they would only be one more thing for Eerum to take. As it is, I try not to love Liem, but there is only so much that a blood sister can do.

Even now, the city tries his best to pry my brother from my hands. While the plague leaves cursed riches in the streets, a more insidious poison creeps through the Dens: talk of rebellion. Garrow, a hot-blooded boy, just young enough not to have left the Dens to join the church or the army, tells us each night to come with him, that he knows people with power who want things to change. A few have left, out of hope, hunger, or just desperation, to follow his lead. He tells us that they feast every night and drink their fill of clear water, but none have ever come back to tell the tale. I've seen the glow in Liem's eyes when Garrow tells his tales of raids on noble caravans and flight from capture in the nick of time. I know it's only a matter of time until my pleas to Liem that he stay another night will be drowned out by Garrow's golden words, and when the time comes, I will let him go. And I will not miss him, because if I miss him, Eerum will laugh.

In a way, of course, Eerum is a part of me, as I am a part of Eerum. I know the streets and markets better than most mothers know their children, and it is sometimes my hand that strikes with Eerum's bane on unwary Travelers. I have never taken a life, but I have done my part in taking a livelihood more than once in my years. I grew up in the Dens, a dusty web of caves just south of the city itself. I am one of the oldest still here; most everyone who is abandoned at the mouths of these caves either leaves or dies before they have a chance to become a man or woman. For the men, there is always the church or the army. For the women, there is always the church or the street. For me, though, there is only Eerum. He is spiteful and cruel, but he is my home.

Ω A B I L I T I E S / S K I L L S:

//ABILITIES:

◼ A SCRAWNY STREET RAT | Wri is thin, wiry, and surprisingly strong when need calls, at least for a girl her size. She can subsist without complaint on the bare minimum required to sustain her physically.

◼ BORN TO THE SANDS | While the nights can be cold in Eerum, the days and their heat are far more deadly. Wri grew up in the heat of Eerum's streets, and while she would likely be uncomfortably cold in any temperate location, she handles heat better than any who do not share her heritage.

//SKILLS:

◼ QUICK FINGERS, QUICK FEET | Just as important for survival in Eerum as the ability to deftly slit a Traveler's purse is the ability to navigate the crowded streets and markets quickly enough to avoid retribution when the former goes wrong. Wri is possessed of both of these, as well as a knack for moving by rooftop when the moment requires.

◼ CANNY | Wri has heard and fallen victim to enough gilded words in her short life to know the cadence of a liar's song. She is often quick to pick out a false word or a carefully turned phrase.

//LIMITATIONS:

◼ ALL THE WEALTH OF AN EMPTY BAG | It is hard enough for someone like Wri to find the coin or water to buy another day's survival in Eerum, much less to begin to save anything. The entirety of Wri's estate, such as it were, consists of the canvas clothes on her back, an old sack which doubles as a pillow or blanket in need, and a wood-corked water horn.

◼ NEVER A FRIEND IN NEED | Wri knows that anyone could work Eerum's will at any moment, and so has pushed herself away from reliance on (or friendship with) anyone besides Liem.

//WEAKNESSES:

◼ IF YOU CAN'T HOLD IT | Wri has never been taught by any other than Eerum's cruel hand. She struggles to muster care for the grandiose abstractions of the wise, and her knowledge on the details of anything remotely arcane is nonexistent.

◼ STILL JUST A GIRL | When it comes to contests of pure physicality, Wri will never match up to a smith or a soldier or even any healthy adult. Maybe with years of training, or a diet that consisted of more than inn scraps and the occasional feast of a swiped pastry, or a larger natural physique, she would stand a chance, but as it is, she will never be remembered for her strength.

Ω N O T E S:

◼ Wri's clothing is ragged, but shows signs of relatively recent patch work. She traded half a week's carefully stockpiled coin for the fabric, thread, and skill of a girl in the Dens, a girl whose name Wri has already forgotten. Perhaps this girl would be a friend if such a thing were possible. Perhaps this girl isn't even alive anymore. Wri would have no way of knowing.

[Nib]

The Iron Bear

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^{"War didn't kill me. I'll be damned if this Blight does."}

^{Roderick Pelgriff ♦ 54 ♦ Male ♦ Neutral Good}

Ω O R I G I N S:

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Roderick’s father, like many others, attempted the economic climb in Ferros. He set himself up as a blacksmith in the city of iron, but his business eventually failed like so many others tend to do. His failed business left his family on the streets with nothing. Roderick learned his first lesson in pride at this stage in his life when his father stubbornly refused to work for any other blacksmith. His pride killed him; it left him, his wife, and Roderick to the streets. There, he died when the Red Plague swept the land. Roderick quickly swallowed whatever pride he had and groveled at each and every blacksmith for an apprenticeship. He worked hard for years, making a meager amount; just enough to barely feed himself and his mother.

Eventually, he lost his mother too. After her death, Roderick joined up with a band of roaming mercenaries who came to Ferros. He offered his service as a smith in exchange for training from them. He spent years and years marching with that band, acting as their smith and a soldier himself. He learned how to fight during his years with them. As his hair grayed, he saw more and more people get cut down and more and more youths join up. The band was unfamiliar to him by then, all his friends long gone in some battle or another. So, he left after training a new smith and commander.

Ω A B I L I T I E S / S K I L L S:

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//ABILITIES:

◼ No Place for Pride | Years of fighting and surviving have left Roderick with the ability to effectively command men and women. He holds himself with an air of confidence and wisdom that demands respect. His survival has left him with the knowledge that pride can and will most likely get you killed in a fight.

//SKILLS:

◼ Tempered Arm | Roderick has trained since his teen years as a blacksmith. Despite his age, he is still a skilled warrior able to hold his own in a fight. His years of fighting have tempered his arm and made him powerful and resilient to counteract his stiff leg.

//LIMITATIONS:

◼ Age is a Bitch | Loathe though he is to admit it, Roderick’s age is a hindrance. He gets sore easier after fighting, he gets colder than he used to, and his joints ache when the weather changes. The world seems a bit bleaker than it did before. His time spent in a mercenary band has made Roderick accustomed to being listened to, so he does not follow authority very well.

//WEAKNESSES:

◼ Scars of Battle | When he was still a young man, Roderick’s leg was injured in a battle. The wound left the leg slightly stiffer than his other, which has slowed him down over the years, though the speed and strength of his arm are surprising for his age. He also suffered a cut across his face that took the sight from his right eye. Roderick can a stubborn bull at times, thinking his way is the best way. Though he would never admit it, Roderick does have nightmares and at times flashbacks of his time spent on battlefields. He also has the memory of each loss of a friend firmly engraved in his mind.

Ω N O T E S:

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◼

Fully Armored

(Add a bear pelt cloak.)

Main Weapon

(More of a hammerhead on the back.)

Secondary Weapon

[Drag]

CLAUDE

^{"What’s locked will be unlocked, what’s hidden will be found. What’s yours will be mine"}

^{Claudius ♦ 24 ♦ Male ♦ Chaotic Neutral}

Ω O R I G I N S:

Vasilius is a city of extreme diametric opposition. On one hand it is the uncontested seat of the throne, a place where nobility and the rich can truly lose themselves in all that the capital has to offer, where they can forget horrors of the land like the stone blight. But on the other side, it is a place of cruel temptation, the poor, the street rats, the forgotten, look up at manors of unfathomable size, hawk their meagre wares towards educated and aloof nobility, and are forever reminded of their pitiful state beneath the shadow of the Garland Citadel.

One such member of this downtrodden rabble found herself swept away with the charm and elegance of a newly shored “sailor”, though all the signs pointed towards their relationship not being a lasting one she grew attached to the hope and comfort that he gave her. Despite the outright contempt her family had for her new partner (as well as their lack of trust in his profession) the two moved in together and would eventually bare a son they would name Claudius, a noble name for a peasant boy.

As Claudius grew up he felt torn between the growing contempt his parents shared for each other. His father was often away for months at a time on sea and on his return Claudius’ mother would be seemingly distraught with any gold or jewels he offered her, referring to them as “blood trinkets”. When his father was around he was very often drunk or getting into fights with his crew, he did seem to take an interest in teaching his son skills he himself had learned, how to crack open a safe, how to tie and climb ropes and even later how to swing from them with an artistry Claudius had thought his father incapable of. The teaching that had caused the most violent argument between his parents when his mother found out about it however, was how to pickpocket.

The way his father had phrased everything Claudius had always felt like they were simply playing games but his mother tore into her “beloved” when she learned of it, stating under no uncertain terms that their son we’d become someone “like him”. It was then that Claudius’ father struck his mother when Claudius realized what it was she was talking about, very quickly Claudius turned against his father and the combined hatred from his wife and son made his father further enraged, he decried both members of his family and left, taking any of his money he could find with him and set sail, neither Claude or his mother ever saw him again.

The following months were hard one for Claude, with the main breadwinner gone he was forced to spend his time begging for scraps on the richer streets and avoiding guards who would shoo him off at best or haul him in on suspicious intent at worst. His cynicism and disillusionment grew as his formerly kind and caring mother became emotionally withdrawn and ambivalent towards their situation. When Around the time Claudius became a teenager, she killed herself, leaving behind a sorrowful message to her son. What little shred of hope and optimism he had left died in Claudius that day, so much so that as he was being escorted to live with his mother’s parents he quite simply and suddenly ran from his escorter and into the slums where finding him would be an arduous task. Alone and on the run the first few weeks would be an extreme test of survival for Claude, but he began using the skills his father had taught him. Occasionally a bar patron would find a few gold pieces missing from his pocket, later it turned into a stall vendor looking back at his inventory to find himself missing one loaf of bread.

In present day Claude has graduated from pickpocketing and petty thefts to becoming, at least in his own mind, a “master thief”. The days of him begging nobility for handouts has long left him, now he takes from them what he eneeds with impunity. The first few years of thievery were touch and go but with his will to survive and “a few well made contacts” Claude has carved out a comfortable if terribly lonesome existence of self sustaining. But as with seemingly everything else in the land, the stone blight has caused a number of issues in his line of work. The wealthy are far less inclined to launch exorbitant parties and parade around their gold and objects of worth, there is a downturn in just about all of Claude’s prime means of thievery, travellers are down, hope is in sharp decline and people are dying.

Claude suspects that the suddenness of this blight and its ferocity can’t simply be a cause of nature, but he is hardly any type of educated scholar, what he is however is someone not interested with the prospect of becoming a decrepit statue. So by any means Claude seeks answers, and believes he will get them from the darkest corner with the greatest view.

Ω A B I L I T I E S / S K I L L S:

//ABILITIES:

◼ Velvet Tread & Lightning Hands | Claude is, first and foremost, a thief. His mode of movement in general revolves around people (his target’s especially) never even knowing he was there, to that end Claude has trained his body to move with the grace of a dancer, lest his career in burglary come to a swift and decisive end.

◼ An Eye For Detail | The traditional term is “casing a joint”, Claude hs spent much of his time estimating the value of a target and whether or not the risk is worth it, further he is able to make some surprisingly observant (if typically cynical or sarcastic) thoughts on a person from a few sentences. His most reliable observations however come from when he is scouting a route, a window left ajar, a crack in the walls, sooner or later Claude will find it, he has to, after all he can’t go through the front door.

//SKILLS:

◼ The Unwelcome Guest | A big part of Claude’s job is infiltration, he has an agile frame and lightness of movement that makes climbing and scaling come as easy as walking. Further Claude has honed his skills as a locksmith and is able to extend his talents to doors, safes, windows and more or less the majority of contraptions nobles like to keep their jewelry in, however he can only do these complex locks when he has some variety of tools on his person.

◼ Aim True & Arm Steady | Whilst Claude is hardly the peak physical specimen he’s not typically one for blades or blunt objects, or really typical weaponry in general save for a dagger, not much use for them in his line of work. A bow on the other hand is one of Claude’s most valued possessions, interestingly however he rarely uses it for offensive purposes, typically using it more as a tool in tandem with custom made “rope arrows” to make scaling things like towers or high walls easier. Regardless Claude’s aim and familiarity with a bow is not a skill to be underestimated.

//LIMITATIONS:

◼ The Folly Of Genetics | The life of a poor orphan is not typically one which is good for building mass and fitting in daily training regimes, whilst Claude has been able to hone and develop his skills in athletics and can use his speed in a fight if it's absolutely necessary, his frame and armour is just not suited to taking punishment from larger opponents.

◼ A Gentleman Thief Is A Dead One | Whilst Claude does have certain…. Moral restrictions even he won’t fall below (chiefly because there’s not much profit in it) he is still by no means a very good person, or even a pleasant one. Claude can be sarcastic, disparaging and sometimes plain vindictive, this is so as to always keep anyone he must interact with at an emotional distance, thievery is a lonely business, but a thief with a lot of friends simply has more people able to stab him in the back if history has taught Claude anything.

//WEAKNESSES:

◼ For The Man Who Has Everything... | Naturally Claude can be comically greedy, whilst on the job he is the epitome of focused, he has a tendency to overlook a job’s risk depending on the payout when it comes time to plan his next move, this has resulted in several close encounters and while he seems to be mellowing from this with age and experience a very simple way to entice Claude into doing most anything is a hefty bag of gold.

◼ Consummate Professional | Claude is a thief, not an assassin. Whilst his hands aren’t exactly “bloodless” Claude avoids killing (or even leaving a body in general) wherever possible, he’ll tell you that it’s the mark of a true professional to be able to not even need to resort to such measures and because it runs the risk of people coming after you and things getting “messy” but it’s clear that deep down he has moral convictions against needlessly taking a life.

Ω N O T E S:

◼ Though Claude makes a tidy profit from his job, a commoner flashing around that type of cash would quickly be marked as a thief, due to this Claude is more or less forced into keeping tabs on his spending, hiding his larger stashes in well concealed dead drops and keeping any frivolous purchases securely under wraps. And he is quite bitter about it.

[Liseran Thistle]

Lowe

“I have absolutely no idea what i’m doing, or where i’m going most of the time, but I think I’ve got most this stuff figured out by now. At least I hope I’ve got it figured it out... "

lowe

B I R T H N A M E: Lowe Harmond ♦ A G E: 12 ♦ S E X: Male ♦ A L I G N M E N T: Chaotic Good

Ω O R I G I N S:
Lowe was a boy whose entire family line has been sustained in the walls of the Barbed Church. His parents, though they cared for him, died pretty early in his life from a deadly disease that seems to be plaguing the whole country as of late. He was taken in at the age of 4 by Minister Florentus, a man who is as cruel as the punishments he serves. He was taken in as Minister Florentus’ ward, and Florentus taught him how to be a scribe and proper librarian. Lowe was not very good in his studies though, and this conflicted with him becoming a good scribe. Minister Florentus believed it was because of his incompetence that he could not work in a classroom environment, but it had more to do with the beatings he received than his comprehension. Or rather, the two were clearly linked. Due to the severe trauma from the beatings, he went deaf in his right ear at the age 6, and has not been able to hear out that ear ever since. Lowe is prone to sickness, and has a very weak immune system for a child his age. He had been told his parents died of the very plague striking fear into the citizens of Vassidia, but he’d like to think he will not fall pray to the same fate.

His sisters, who were never really around for him, worked for the other ministers in the Church, and the oldest worked as a scribe for the First Thorn herself. Lowe had five sisters in total, and he had always wondered what it was they did in their private studies. Lowe suspected it had something to do with magick, but he was forbidden from using it at the behest of Minister Florentus. Every week or so, a small caravan of ministers and peasants would venture out past the gates of the Barbed Church. Lowe thought that the things they packed with them must be food, or clothing for people in the neighboring towns, but was never really sure what it was for, and Minister Florentus told him it didn’t matter to him. “A scribe has no use for curiosity, Lowe. You’d do best to keep your heads in your books, and out of the streets below.” But Lowe didn’t listen. Every night, since he had first seen the mysterious caravan, he’d wondered what was inside of the covered wagons, and where his sisters and the ministers went every week? He tried asking around the Church, but they all seemed to think that the Caravan should remain a secret from him.

Lowe, to himself, thought that if it was really not that big of a deal, than there wouldn’t be any harm in him doing some investigating of his own, would there? The Church was always giving away to charities, so Lowe assumed he’d find clothing and food inside the wagons for poor people. One day, while Minister Florentus was away attending a small class of assistants and other wards of the Church, Lowe snuck outside and made his way to the caravan that was about to leave. His sisters were there, like they always were, and he managed to avoid them, by hastily jumping into one of the covered wagons, and shrinking down low to fit in between the large crates that were packed in the cargo hold. He heard the distinct voice of his sisters talking to one another, Maridia (The Eldest) seemed concerned the cargo wasn’t secure enough, so Erika (The Third Eldest) tied hemp rope around the cargo, locking the crates, and Lowe, inside of the cramped wagon space.

The journey through the woods past the Church was very bumpy, and Lowe didn’t get to see most of it because he was stuck in the wagon. They rode on for sometime, and Lowe could only guess that it had been an entire afternoon afternoon before something changed in the wagons path. The wagon gave a violent jerk upwards, almost sending Lowe flying out of it, and then it hit a tree making it break, and spill the contents it was holding. Lowe was laid out on the forest floor, completely disoriented. The wagon had somehow gotten lost from the group. The bolt that held it to the other wagons in front was snapped completely. He had been left behind near an old shack, with nothing but a few oil lamps and food. The shack held a very valuable secret though, that being a Cartographers Map making set and journal. Lowe was never really good at studies, but he was very well acquainted with maps. Minister Florentus thought reading maps was useless, but Lowe took a liking to them because they were somewhat easier for him to understand. The map was pretty straight forward, the journal not so much. The Cartography set held 3 maps, the first showing the way to a small town named River Sway. Lowe headed off to find River Sway, and made it there in the span of a few hours.

A nice inn keeper by the name of Maruna picked him up off the streets, and told him he could stay with her for a few days if he put his map making abilities to the test. “River’sway’s been cut off for about a week now, and I can’t get anyone to come to the shop. So what yer’ gonna do is make it so they get here.” She had said. “I’m not sure if its the plague that’s keepin’ em’ away, but I know it’s not my food. And them damned Knights blocking the river port probably have something to do with it, too. Find a different way into this town: you got yer’ self a new home. Fail, and it’s back on the streets with ya’.” Lowe solved his dilemma that day by showing Maruna the way he came into the city using the map. Maruna had patted him on the head, and gave him a closet of a room to sleep in.

As soon as news of this new road was heard around town though, it spelled bad news for Maruna. The “Knights” she had mentioned seemed strange, and not at all like proper Knights set for protecting a town. They were obsessed with keeping everyone inside of River Sway on the orders of a man named Minister Plike. Lowe had certainly heard of a Minister Plike, before. He had seen the man walking through the Church, communing with the First Thorn herself on matters Lowe didn’t really understand. Minister Plike was also his Second eldest sister’s master, and he was supposed to be training her to be a healer of magick. What a man of the Barbed Church, let alone a Minister of Healing, would need with Knights, Lowe did not know. The Knights weren’t too keen on giving explanations either.

They did not like that Lowe had showed Maruna another way into this town, and made him pay dearly for it. They attacked the inn and Maruna had been killed easily, but Lowe escaped on the only mount that Maruna had on hand running away down the river’s bend. His attackers would not leave though, and one loose arrow to the mounts legs later, he found himself falling in the river gasping for breath. His attackers, because of his small size, assumed that he would die from the river’s current. He didn’t though, and was washed up on the shores of Ferros, the Iron City.

When Lowe checked the Cartographers set again, he found that all three maps were still there, but that the strange journal was gone. He racked his brain for where he could’ve placed it, until he remembered he left it on his bed in Maruna’s inn. He’s far from home, both the Inn and the Church, and has no idea what the Knights were doing at River Sway, or why Minister Plike blocked off an entire town full of people. One thing he is sure of is finding his way back to Kafarra. He never found out what the caravan was for, but perhaps he can find out on his journey home. He has no idea how to get there though, and the maps revealed nothing. They all seem to lead to places he’s never heard of before. It is here that he has nothing but an apple core, a vial of oil he managed to pilfer from Maruna when she wasn’t looking, and a few pens and bottles of ink from his Cartographers set, as well as the last two maps he has yet to follow.

Ω A B I L I T I E S / S K I L L S:

//ABILITIES:
◼ Crawl Space | He is surprisingly agile when he wants to be, as climbing atop dusty bookshelves has added to his abilities. When he wants to hide, he’s also able to fit into small places due to his small stature.

◼A mouse’s Tread| He can be very quiet when he wants to be, and it helps him often when he wants to sneak around. He was able to sneak past his sister’s when getting on the wagon, but looking back that probably wasn’t the best idea.

◼Alter Boy | Lowe is very keen on telling the truth, and can tell when something is not right, or when he is being duped by someone. Years of piety in a Church has made him very aware of when someone is lying to him.




//SKILLS:
◼ Pigeon Soup | Minister Florentus thought it was useless for a boy to learn how to cook, but his mother knew better and taught him to make the basics of food when he was 3. Things like porridge, and pigeon soup (A simple dish made from bird bones, and mushrooms).

◼ Map Reading: He is very good with reading maps, and thanks to finding the cartographers set, has gotten a lot better at reading in general. He knows how to read the maps almost perfectly now.

//LIMITATIONS:

◼ Non-Magick user| He is unable to do Magick, and can’t learn any spells because he, well- can’t read that well yet.

◼ House Cleaning| He isn’t very organized with his things, so they often get lost.

◼Collection Tithe| He is not a fighter, nor a lover, so running into sellswords or beggars would usually spell trouble for him.

◼Church Mouse| Because of his sheltered life inside of the Church he does not know how to read people very well. Which causes problems sometimes. He doesn’t fall for every trick he sees, but he is prone to promises of sweets and a warm bed.

//WEAKNESSES:
◼ Sick Bay| Sickness: He is very weak, and may or may not be coming down with some kind of flu or worse. The Ministers were sure that if anything drastic were to happen, they would be able to help him with their Magick. But with Lowe so far away from home, he has a very high chance of getting sicker than usual. Most of the symptoms include dizziness, vomiting, and sometimes the occasional rash. Though it doesn’t happen often, he does get sickly sometimes,and when he does it could be days before he recovers fully.

◼ Hearing: Lowe is deaf in his right ear, and is not able to hear out of it at all. This never caused a lot of problems in the Church, but now it serves as a very difficult hurtle. He lost the right ear after getting multiple severe beatings from Minister Florentus, and any other ornery adults who needed a punching bag.

Ω N O T E S:

◼ Lowe’s only interaction with Pontiff Silvene was when he was a small baby in his mother’s arm. The First Thorn came to give blessings to the new parents, and then moved on. Lowe, of course, does not remember this. Whether or not the First Thorn remembers is not something I know. Lowe also has a deep seated bitterness towards knights. This is because of the incident with Maruna in River Sway. Lowe has never looked at a Knight the same way after that day.

◼ He has a pack with him, but it does not hold a lot of stuff. Most of the space is being taken up by the Cartography set, and some food. He has no means of healing himself, or vials of spells to help him heal faster. He has a few stones, and a long stick he found along the way to defend himself with. If need arises though he may just throw rocks to try to get away.

◼ He cannot last long in any environment that is not warm, cozy, and filled with lots of people. He is 12 after all.

◼ Is it wise if he knows not to cross Minister Florentus on a bad day? Jokes aside, he isn’t what one would call wise, as he is a small child of 12 who hasn’t actually experienced a whole lot, but he is wise enough to know when to keep certain things secret from now on. His time with Maruna taught him that.

◼ Despite not being the brightest or the strongest, he certainly has a sassy personality. He absolutely won’t let the other’s quiet him, or even speak over him. He’s thankful he was born with such a loud voice, otherwise everyone would probably look him over and ignore him. He’s very opinionated for a 12yr old. He will say what he thinks, as long as he thinks he can run fast enough to escape punishment. (And he usually is.) He can be helpful, and very dependable but only if you give him something in return. Maruna used to bribe him with sweets, and extra night hours to clean her kitchen and rooms, and even that was a hard nut to crack sometimes.

[Searat]

G A I U S "T H E H O U N D"

^{"Violence is not the only answer...but it makes a difference."}

^{G a i u s B r a d f o r d ♦ 3 2 ♦ M a l e ♦ C h a o t i c G o o d}

Ω O R I G I N S:

I was the eldest in his family. Although poor, we lived a quiet and happy life in the small town located near the border between the kingdom of Mornfell and Ferros. Fallwatch mainly exported lumber and similar products to the kingdom of Mornfell but ,every odd generation or so, the town also produced individuals fit enough to be part of the guard. Those fit individuals came from well off families in the town and very rarely came from a poor background. In the small mill town of Fallwatch not a single soul; not my father, not my mother, not my brothers, not even I expected to be anything more than the son of a poor lumberjack. Though, things changed when the local guard came to the town to gather fresh recruits and saw me cut down a tree a span wide in two strikes of my ax. My family was so proud of me when they found out and even encouraged me to leave as soon as possible. With a foolish looking grin on my face I prepared my belongings and said my goodbyes and farewells before leaving the them and the town the next morning. That...that was the last time I ever saw my family.
Let's get back to topic. After my training was complete, I spent the rest of my youth serving under the local baron's guard. Work was boring but it did pay better than chopping wood back in town, and that made me happy. It was routine for me to send a part of my pay and a letter to my family every month. Though after the stone blight hit, they suddenly stopped. I didn't know what happened to them, so I took a leave and came to visit Fallwatch. My whole town was burned down. The burnt remnants were barely even visible when I arrived. My heart sank and I ran to my home...not even my baby brother survived. With a heavy heart I sat there alone in the cold for what felt like hours before I left to go back. Official reports claimed that it was a freak accident that caused the town to burn to the ground.
It took me months to discover what had happened. The baron thought that my connection with my family would be an issue to my dedication to the job, thought that it make me a liability to him. Said he couldn't have those kinds of problems so he planned a 'tragic accident' to befall my family, sent some faceless criminals to do the deed. Found a report that stated that the goons hired messed up and the fire spread too fast and razed not only my home and family but also the rest of town before anything could be done about it. It infuriated me. I had the evidence to condemn the baron for his actions...but I knew the court will take long to condemn him. He needed to be condemned now. So, later that night I sent the evidence to the proper authorities and I tried to kill the baron for what he had done. Even if I failed to kill him that night, his reputation would be besmirched and force him into hiding. I rallied my comrades for a coup against the bastard, but I had not anticipated the number of guards loyal to him alone. We got into a fierce battle and the baron did manage to escape. It was rotten luck for him that I'm decent pursuer and I tracked him down in a fortnight.
Not much is left to be said. As soon as that whole issue with me killing a minor noble, albeit a deserving one, was brought to public notice I was deemed a criminal and forced to adventuring and some mercenary work for a livelihood. I know that there were alternative options to how I could have handled the whole situation, but a mace to the skull solved the issue faster than any legal court could have.

Ω A B I L I T I E S / S K I L L S:

//ABILITIES:

◼ Strong as a Bull | Gaius may not be the smartest or fastest, but his strength is beyond an average man's. If he hits you, you will not be getting up any time soon.

◼ Tough as Nails | Gaius' body has grown very durable throughout his life. It would take more than a couple of good hits to take him down.

//SKILLS:

◼ Unstoppable Force | Gaius utilizes a straightforward means of fighting. Rather than using a traditional set up of sword and shield, he prefers to grasp weapons with both his hands to cut, smash, or cleave through obstacles and opponents alike.

◼ Like a Hunting Hound | During his training in the guard, he was one of the best guards in regards to tracking down individuals. This skill helped him greatly when mercenary contracts needed him to seek out individuals.

//LIMITATIONS:

◼ Evil is Evil | Even if he is no longer part of the guard and a criminal himself, he retains little patience towards crimes or malicious acts.

◼ Not very Bright | He learned numerous things during his time in training and is no imbicile. Though he still has significant difficulty comprehending complex ideas or operating complex machines/devices.

//WEAKNESSES:

◼ Agile as a Bear| His size and weight combined with equipment make it very difficult to move very quickly and perform other acts of agility.

◼ Infamous| Gaius is still a criminal and is wanted for the murder of the baron. A number of guards and law enforcement are actively searching for him.

Ω N O T E S:

◼ Any further notes your character may require.
Equipment:

Full Armor

Weapon

[Tangletail]

Farya the Wolfborn

^{"We are all fragile things. But we kill, we take, we live. That makes us strong."}

Farya

^{"A small chested wildling woman with a toned body and cut back muscles. She's primitively dressed from head to toe in furs, wraps, and wraps of torn cloth from her favored game. Scars dot her body from various sources; Claws, blades, and arrows. A wooden wolf mask seems to be permanently fixed to her face"}

Wolyo

^{"A young direwolf with intelligence glinting in its eyes, decorated in a protective harness created with carved hardwood plates and hides. It is large enough to be straddled, but not large enough to cast a shadow over a man."}

^{FARYA ♦ 27 ♦ FEMALE ♦ TRUE NEUTRAL}

Ω O R I G I N S:

I have little personal memory of my origins. What I know has been told through my mother’s jaws. And from her tongue, I shall lay bare to you. I was a delicate creature. A suckling babe, crying for the milk of her mother – a kind woman with demons grasping for her heart. She is-was the mate of a wealthy man – by convince of their pack. And… the driver of souls into damnation. The smell of poppy clung to her. The sweetness of the scent – heighted by a fanged smile lured many into her clutches. They desired escape. They disliked the world for what it gave them. Despair, disease, loss. She obliged for a grave pittance. Lambs walking into the jaws of a wolf.
You shall do well to suspend surprise, for her fate was of her own creation. She rode a wheeled construct into the depths of a forest. She carried the babe. And lusting men, stinking of the city’s streets, overtook her protectors and her. Nature’s will came that day. For the strong took from the weak. Poppy, money, warmth, lives, and the babe. The mother lane slain and stripped of her worldly possessions. The baby for ransom, in hope of gold and jewels from the father.

Those lusting eyes only saw the glint of steel and fire in the night before the river turned red. The man was no fool. He had power. He’ll take me back – whatever the cost. But I never came back. For my takers have left me in a cave. The cadaver of the one whom guarded me decorated the floor. My new takers, my new pack, found me. The children’s teeth thirst for more blood. But my mother saw only a child that new nothing of the world’s beauty, and its horrors.

And through the years that child grew. She danced with a bow and the grace of a cat. Her arrows weaving through the air to fell their mark. A huntress forged by wolves. A wolf in lamb’s clothing.

My mother’s story has beauty. Nature’s will laid out. But most importantly, the story was also a parable. If you are strong, whatever you desire will become yours. A lesson that girl took to heart.

I left my pack by their graces to find a hunting grounds to make my own. I’ve traveled for many moons, alone. Found a large forest ripe with game. Another wolf as well. A massive wolf, whom I’ve built a strong bond with, one I do not completely understand. We are nearly one. I’ve taken to calling him Wolyo. An act forged with great sentiment. He became my new teacher – unlocked the secrets of rituals, spells, and language. No nights were cold, no dreams fretful, no hunt alone. He became my trusted friend, I became his.

Together, we laid claim to that forest. Together, we hunted wild life for food, trespassers for sport. We hear whispers on the winds of us. They speak of us, forging stories and legends. Of a maiden with a bow, and a great wolf with dagger-like teeth. A great wealth is to be had, and we are their gate keepers. There is truth to this. We collect what they find valuable from the fallen and stored it away. They hunt us, we in turn - them. Shall we be bested, we’ll recognize their strength. And our hoard is theirs to own.

Ω A B I L I T I E S / S K I L L S:

//ABILITIES:

◼ Feline’s Grace | Farya is startling graceful and dexterous. When relaxed, she drifts gracefully through the grass like a noble. Upright and to the step of a rhythm. When she prowls, she slinks like a predator with perfect balance. When she fires her bow, she does with the glory of a dancer. Swapping targets with a pirouette, and repositioning with a twirl, or a flip. And when running, she makes long strides with instinctive care in each step, or soars through the air when running on all fours.

◼ Apex Predator | Unlike most, Farya came to rely heavily on all of her senses working at their peak. She has better hearing, sense of smell, sensitivity to touch, and taste than most other humans. Naturally she’ll struggle with those who spent a lifetime hiding, but those few will gain her respect.

//SKILLS:

◼ Eternal Huntress | Farya had spent most of her life hunting. And like wise that gives her a lifetime to hone her tracking, stalking, and marksmanship. Those whom become Farya’s and Wolyo’s next target, will never live to tell the story of a close encounter with the two.

◼ We Hunt Together | Both Farya and Wolyo are no strangers to teamwork, and greatly desires a pack of their own. Those in their care would not need to fear about their flanks, or worry about being left to die.

◼ Nature’s Gift | Farya had learned some basic druid spells and rituals from her companion, Wolyo. While druid magics are worth fearing. Her spells are mostly utility, or ineffective in combat. Along with this gift, she holds a natural ability to speak with beasts.

//LIMITATIONS:

◼ Novice Druid | Farya had such a short time to learn the spells she knows. Practice and experimentation is the only reason why she can consistently cast such spells. However, she does not have the benefit of building up her endurance through years of practice like other spell casters. And more complicated spells she picks up later could potentially fail at a much higher rate than normal.

◼ Uneducated | Growing up in the wild often means you do not get the same opportunities. Farya is incapable of reading, writing, and some intermediate levels of arithmetic. She has little understanding of how machinery works.

//WEAKNESSES:

◼ A Wolf Is Not a Pet | Civilization is a foreign concept to Farya. She has no sense of modesty, a lack luster understanding of laws, bare minimum humanity, and some how managed to not understand some of the nuances of human emotions like love. That's right, ask for her hand in marriage, and she will look at you with confusion. The only things civil about her, is the fact she wears clothes for utility purposes only, grooms and bathes on a regular and strict basis, and has a strong grasp of language.

◼ Two Fangs One Maw | It would be almost accurate to say they are two halves of one person. Linked in mind and soul, with a deep ingrain trust - they're sworn to be life long companions and to never leave the other behind. Separation will cripple them both with grief, loneliness, and an inexplicably strong desire to regroup with one another no matter the cost.

◼ Lone Wolves Don't Survive | The two’s greatest weakness is their dependence on one another. Like many wolves, the individual will not survive for long. They overcome their weaknesses by covering for each other’s. The two work together like a well-oiled machine. Isolating one will force them into a bad spot if the other can't get to them.

◼ Identity Masquerade | She almost always wears her mask. And very rarely takes it off. The loss of it could potentially cause her to lock up in fear, or frantically search for it.

Ω N O T E S:

◼ Primitive tatoos line her body. Rather than being various tribal symbols, they are few long sweeping, and broad swirling blue lines. They seem to be all connected together. They swirl around her kalves, thighs, stomach, and end crawling up her back to her shoulders. The same pattern is repeated on the furs and rags of cloths she wears in the exact same locations.

◼ Farya wears a mask. The mask is an intricate black painted wood carving resembling a stylized wolf. A blue marking exists on the forehead in a similar style to the markings that covers her body.

◼ Her Primary Weapon is a long bow, well made and decorated with trophies like fangs, claws, and feathers. Her back up is a sturdy primitive knife with a large ring on the hilt.

[Mistress Dizzy]

K A S S A N D R A

^{"NO, I will NOT make you a love potion!"}

^{Kassandra Fletcher
♦ 19 ♦ Female ♦ Neutral Good}

Ω O R I G I N S:

Kassandra Fletcher is one of the mages in training serving under
Master Mage Horridan Reese. It has taken her years of schooling to get to where she is, and just as much determination and drive. While she does know the same general magic that all book-learned mages are taught, Kassandra’s specialty is potion work. One would think it’s no different than cooking, but there is a subtlety and complication in the art that many mages overlook for something more straightforward. It’s not just the choice of ingredients that changes, but the amount used, and the amount of magical will infused into the ingredients. The timeframe of brewing, the weather on the day that you begin the potion. Is the room humid or dry? Your hands clean when you stoppered the bottle?

Kassandra adores her potions, and her hard work has garnered many results. She wants to teach others when she becomes of age. Working to stop the plague is not only her Master’s wish, but Kassy’s as well.

Her parents, Kaia and Lenden were nomadic, and she was a very happy child, traveling from city to city. Kaia had a great deal of magic and intelligence, and “Spoke to the dead”. In truth, no one can speak to the dead. Kaia used a combination of cold reading and minor illusion to do what she did, and used it to help others come to grips with loss. Her father had no magical talent of his own, but supported his wife and child with heart and blade. While she was a benevolent woman, not everyone saw her that way. “Unholy” and “charlatan” were among the first complicated words that little Kassy learned as a child, but so were “savior” and “blessed”. What she didn’t learn, was that her mother was essentially a fraud. Some nights when they rushed out in the middle of the night were treated as a fun game, and Kassy never understood that they were being chased. Kassandra will never know if it was sabotage or a spell gone very wrong, but her mother died one evening in the midst of a “channeling”.

Lenden was never the same. He sunk into his grief, and they spent almost a year travelling and barely making ends meet before they came to the city of Vasilius. There, Kassandra learned that she had an aunt Liriya – her brother’s sister – and that aunt was a minor noble (she married up). Her father dropped her off there, promising to return within 6 months.

Kassandra has never seen him again.

While Aunt Liriya was displeased with the arrangement to say the least, she did clothe and feed and put a roof over Kassy’s head. She even went sure the girl went to school, something 8 year old Kassy did not know existed. Despite being behind the other noble children, Kassy quickly caught up. And then – she began to surpass her classmates through the years.
When she was about 17, when most noble children were going for professions or knighthood, Kassy was offered another choice. All schools of the realm had magic tests to determine a child’s aptitude. Most children didn’t show much more than the usual capacity for spellwork, and were left to general schooling. Some showed more innate talent, and they were given extra lessons to not let the talent go to waste or get out of hand.
Kassandra was offered a place at the Royal Academy of Advanced Intellect – a school where the best and brightest in the kingdom went to learn and grow. She learned where her passions lay, studied with other like minds, and was third in line for an apprenticeship with the Master Mage Reese himself! Within a year, she was moved up the ladder. The first apprentice married, the second apprentice quit, and Kassy was suddenly thrown into the position in the midst of the plague. She is determined to succeed – don’t burn out, don’t get pregnant, and don’t let a little thing like an incurable plague stop her from becoming someone amazing.

Ω
A B I L I T I E S / S K I L L S:

//ABILITIES:

◼ I Got Bottles | While she does know the same general magic that all book-learned mages are taught, Kassandra’s specialty is potion work. One would think it’s no different than cooking, but there is a subtlety and complication in the art that many mages overlook for something more straightforward. It’s not just the choice of ingredients that changes, but the amount used, and the amount of magical will infused into the ingredients. The timeframe of brewing, the weather on the day that you begin the potion. Is the room humid or dry? Your hands clean when you stoppered the bottle?
So far, Kassy has several potions that she relies on.
Better Than Coffee: This golden-brown potion provides a 3 hour burst of energy that will shake off sleepiness and make up for an all-nighter in the library. Kassandra knows from experience that more than 2 per day is asking for trouble.
Cleanser: This is a strangely clear potion. It’s used to detect poison, or other harmful additives in food or drink. Kassy has made quite a bit of money with this one.
To Your Health!: This potion is bright orange, and can help shake off small sicknesses like colds. This is one that Kassy is constantly working to improve. It doesn’t work well on everyone. For some reason, elderly don’t respond well to it. It is also only for minor illnesses, certainly not a miracle cure.
Purge: This is the only one that could be called a poison. When imbibed, it will make the drinker vomit. Then it will happen in the other direction. Ironically enough, Kassy uses this on herself more than anyone else, as she refuses to let anyone test a potion–in–progress. She’s had to expel failed experiments from her own body more than once.

◼ “Real Magic” | Kassandra’s spells are for function, not flash. While she has many more, the few that she uses on a regular basis are as such:
Light – She casts a circle of light large enough for about 3 people.
Burst – She launches a bubble of force that impacts like a kicking horse. Could break bones if it hit the right place. Could kill if it hit the wrong place.
Detect – Detects the presence of magic around her. Only works on cast spells or magical things or creatures. Since everything’s got a bit of magic, the spell is tuned for what is deliberately there.
Bubble – Burst in reverse. Calls up a localized shield that can cover about 20 feet around.

//SKILLS:

◼ Court Savvy | While technically not a noble herself, she does hold a
position of esteem. As one of Reese’s students, she is expected to be present at certain functions - if
only to be silent at her Master's elbow. She knows the rules, and can manage in high company.

◼ Well-Read |
Kassandra has spent a lifetime either moving from city to city, or nose-deep in books from around the world. She has an intelligence about the world outside. While she doesn’t speak much of her nomadic past, the knowledge she has may come in handy on the journey.

//LIMITATIONS:

◼ Reader, not a Fighter | Kassandra does not like fighting. While certain potions can be used for combat, and Kassy does know how to swing the staff she carries, she will hesitate to jump into battle. In a real fight, that hesitation could be very dangerous.

//WEAKNESSES:

◼ NERRRD! | Kass is not very social, to say the least. While she can happily go on about magical theory, history, and
classical works, she's more than a little out of her league just socializing. Other people her age sometimes find her awkward, or just boring. She is acutely aware of this, and is often hesitant in conversation.

Ω
N O T E S:

◼ Kassandra was born with white hair. She has no idea why, and to the knowledge of everyone she’s ever asked, she has no more or less magical power than anyone else. It may be a birth defect, it may be destiny. Right now, Kass herself just finds it annoying. She usually covers her head with a cap or hood, and wears makeup to darken her lashes and eyebrows.