[CHAR] The Absent King

[JulienJaden]

Name: Annara en'Samat
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Race: Human - Eretol

Appearance: Bronze skin, long black hair. About 5'3'' tall. Toned body with feminine curves, a pretty face with high cheek bones, amber eyes; a few cuts and scrapes speak of hardship. Three small golden rings loop through each of her ears and a vine of black lines reaches from the back of her right hand up to her right shoulder and breast.
While they're moving through the desert, she wears two layers of clothes: The lower one is clingy and laced with leather and metal, designed to cover her modesty, keep her breasts from moving and, should the need arise, grant her freedom of movement and the bare minimum of protection in a fight; its colors are dark. The upper one is of very light color and weave and very wide around her form, covering her entirely and protecting her from the sun without hindering the air from moving around her form.

Brief character concept: A dancer and thus agile fighter who prefers two short swords or long knifes for a precise and quick offense and swift sidesteps and acrobatic moves for a reactive defense. She is no virgin but also has no deep, dark secret - she is simply a woman who felt drawn to this kind of life (which, I assume, is a mix of spy work, adventure and entertainment).
Character-wise, she would probably not get along with people who take themselves too seriously all the time or try to order everybody around but she is also caring and loyal to the people she trusts and likes.

History: The Eretol are a nomadic people who wander the Eretolian deserts, maintaining independence from the Aretan kingdom despite being related to it and largely surviving as facilitators of the Aretans' trade.

As a girl of the Samat tribe, Annara had a few options: She could marry and be content with having a family; she could join a caravan and perhaps become its leader one day, like her father; or she could go out into the world and see what it had to offer. When she was still a child, Annara thought that she wanted to follow in her parents and older siblings' footsteps, but when she was around 13, her tribe once more moved into one of the Aretan cities to trade and here, the girl ventured deeper into the city on her own and first saw what captivated her dreams thereafter: Dancers.

Mind you, they were 'exotic dancers', women of captivating beauty, feminine build and few garments that were shed one after the other, but there was something about them, a grace in how they carried themselves, a self-confidence in their movements and a power in the effect they had on their audience that fascinated Annara, even though it took her several more years to fully comprehend what she had witnessed and to find out what modesty and sexuality meant to her.

It was enough to make her practice any movement she could think of at any speed, to strengthen her muscles and improve her stamina, to watch and speak to any dancer she came across so she could learn anything there was to learn.

As years passed and, unfortunately, tensions between the Eretol and Aretans ran high every now and then, violent incidents were not unheard of and seeing the knights in their thick and clunky armor and heavy swords, dripping with the blood of her people, made Annara aware of how important it was to know how to fight. Her excursions to the cities became doubly useful as she saw soldiers up close and could see where the weakspots in their armor were and how difficult it was to move in them even for a strong man. With the help of smarter and more experienced fighters than herself, she learned how to combine her acquired agility and dexterity with deadly attacks and precise evasions.

Then, when she was 19, she left her tribe and home. She joined a band of Mummers 'of Merry Andrew', feeling like she had found the right place for herself, despite or perhaps because of the dangers of this life.

[StoneDogg1]

Name: Konrad Falkenburg
Age: 42
Gender: Male
Race: Human; Aretan

Appearance: Konrad is of middling years, and as such has many of the qualities that middle-aged men have. He is tall, 6'2" and of athletic build. His mostly muscular body is weather-worn and tough, his years of service rendering his flesh hard and his joints going more stiff every day. He has bags under his flint-grey eyes, and a look of sadness about him. He wears his greying hair in a military cut and sports a handlebar mustache. He is normally seen wearing brown slacks with hobnail boots, and a simple linen shirt. He carries a hunting knife with him at all times. When duty calls, he dons his plate armor and his weapons. He uses a flail and large kite shield, but like all knights he is trained in many weapons.

Brief character concept: A grizzled veteran, Konrad is a front-line fighter. He is jaded and somewhat depressed due to his home life and his career. Konrad follows orders to the letter, regardless of the "Why". He is paid to serve and protect the King, not to think for himself.

History: Konrad served as a protector for the Aretan kingdom for the last 24 years. He has shown great aptitude in the field, never faltering in his orders. No matter how small he task, or how great he has yet to fail one. He grew up in Areta, his father a humble innkeeper. He remembers the first time he saw the noble Knights of Areta, their weapons gleaming, armor shining. At an early age he began to train in fisticuffs and staying fit to make it into the ranks of his great country's protectors. He is a shining beacon of discipline and obedience, putting more hours into his work than in his personal life. Rumors around the barracks speak of his home life being sad, married to a women who sullies their marriage with noblemen and of his own children never coming to visit. But rumors are rumors, and Konrad hasn't affirmed anything.
He hasn't denied them, either.

[Minato Namikaze]

ooh looky whats this

Appearance

Gerald the Colossus

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Brief character concept: Eccentric and racist knight from Areta, very loud individual who loves to speak his mind. Often gets kicked out of restaurants, not stupid but not a genius either. He has a habit of cussing and loves to challenge others, he enjoys a good fight. Uses a two handed blade and often rides upon horseback.

History: I have a detailed history in mind that I'd like to reveal throughout the rp as it progresses, instead of revealing it all right away from the beginning. But the basics are as follows:

Gerald was raised by single father working as a blacksmith, he's much like his father; who was very loud, racist, and always spoke his mind. He was encouraged by his father to become a knight, in order to get the easy salary and powerful position. He trained for several years a squire and eventually became quite the renown warrior after being named a knight himself. (Keep in mind this is very barebones and I have soooo much more planned for him, I only wanted to reveal a general idea for him during the beginning)

Let me know if I did anything wrong or didn't meet expectations.

[ZB1996]

Name: Juna Hakallerva
Age: Physically 25
Gender: Female
Race: Elven

Appearance: Juna has in possession great natural beauty, and many men have fallen for her for this reason in the past. She is about 5’2 in height, with green eyes, and not very muscular, with gentle and graceful features. She has fair and clear skin, with golden blonde hair. She usually wears a set of brown leather armor, but in times of comfort she will wear lighter cloth or wool clothing.

Brief Character Concept: Juna, despite her gentle appearances, is far from gentle. She is quick in combat, and surprisingly strong as well. She skillfully wields her sword, and uses her many knives as further support in battle. Her personality, at least on the surface, is that of a carefree, if snarky, individual. She lives a life full of independence, and is known to be loyal to no one except Lothren. She has two true goals in life, and that is to kill Amon Serona and see that Alonso lives out his life peacefully.

History: Juna was born to a pair of normal Elven parents on the border of Areta. She had a normal youth, where she lived as a carefree, youthful spirit, with her childhood friend Ilias. Then she met greatest love of her life, Hadrian, a young human man. They would often play the harp together, and he taught her how to sing. Yet when they had finally grown close, Hadrian succumbed to a sickness that he had long held secret. Hadrian passed away from Juno seemingly as quickly as he had come, and although her heart healed in time, a deep scar would remain in her heart.

She grew close yet again to Ilias, and in time the two of them were to be married. Yet it was not to be, for on the day her wedding was to be held, the Aretan Knights came. Illias and Juna’s parents were killed, and only Juna survived. She cried, mourned, and cursed her fate. She remembered the face and the name of the one she saw as most responsible, Amon Serona, and Juna swore to herself that every future day of hers would be dedicated to hunting him down until one of them was dead. Juna, over the years honed her skill in fighting mostly through experience.

She does not hesitate to speak of how she has murdered. Before she was among the Mummers, she was caught in a human village while chasing down Amon. She found herself having a hard time escaping, and she slew a few knights, and a few people who shouldn’t have died did die as well. Juna never refers to this event in any detail, only saying that it makes her a murderer. She would not have gotten out alive were it not for Lothren, and for this Juna offered him unflinching loyalty. When she met Lothren, and he offered her a place as one of the Ytharien, Juna was hesitant, but accepted. With her impeccable skill at both the harp and her beautiful singing voice, as well as her personality, Juna was a natural performer, and as the years passed she grew into the role.

[Culluket]

Name: Linus Kolbe
Age: 35
Gender: Male
Race: Aretan Hume

Appearance:
There are no fair or courtly words to encompass the horrifying appearance of Linus Kolbe. He is by every impression a dead man who refused to lay down. His eyes, one milk-white and sightless, stare from a red, patchwork ruin of deep furrowed wounds and unspeakable burns, the whole of his skin and skull held together with crude wire-thread stitching and scar tissue, hair long since burned away. His voice comes as a shuddering rasp from somewhere in his chest, deeper breaths rattling in his lungs. Few know what further atrocities are visible on his flesh beneath the padding of his armor.

It works well, in putting the fear of battle into the Crown's foes. Unfortunately, it often has the same effect upon its friends.

Brief character concept:
Quartermaster and record-keeper. He has one good eye and can still swing a blade or hammer with the best of men. And one thing you can be sure of: He isn't afraid of getting hurt.

History:
Who was he, before he was left an embittered husk, cast off from the crucible of war? It barely seems to matter, when few can say who he is now. And following his last return from battle, Linus would have been forcibly retired were it not for his unwavering loyalty and a curious pressure from the clergy that he remain available for duty. A compromise was reached, and he soon found himself relegated to duty as Annalist and Quartermaster; Battle-ready, but kept away from younger, idealistic recruits, those who still believe war is all glory and bright, shining armor. It would not do for the impressionable to see the true, terrible face of war.

As with many older knights in the service of the Aretan crown, Linus is a veteran of a few of the kingdom's renowned campaigns. But what follows him more closely, more cautiously, are the whispers of other, lesser-known campaigns, rumored forays pushing deep into the hidden east. Campaigns of which there are no songs, of which no tapestries are woven, of which there are no writings and any discovered are burned along with their authors.

There are no certainties in this whispered hearsay. But the rumors -- as surely Linus himself -- refuse to die.

[FateWeaver]

Name: Aust Galen
Age: 137
Gender: Male
Race: Elf

Appearance: Aust stands at 5'7", and bears the fair features and lithe form common to his race. Hard, wiry muscle lies beneath his sun-browned skin, both a product of many years in the harsh desert environment. His hair was once a deep brown, but it has lightened over the years into sandy blonde locks that fall to his shoulder blades. Ageless eyes the color of storm clouds look out from beneath an angular brow. His flesh is unmarred, with the exception of two faint scars that run from the outer corners of his eyes and down his cheeks like tear tracks. Generally, he prefers simple cotton clothing that covers much of his body to protect him from sun, sand, and heat. Even indoors or in more comfortable climes, he has grown used to his attire and rarely changes it. For battle, he dons leather armor before covering it with the outermost layer of his robes.

Brief character concept: Aust is something of an advance scout for his people. Sent away many years ago, he has spent quite a lot of time among the various peoples of Areta. Using magic to disguise himself, he was even able to briefly ingratiate himself among those serving the royal family. For the most part, he has spent his time traveling among the Eretol to learn as much as he can about the land and it's people. Now that the Ytharien have come, he has rejoined them to share his knowledge and lend his blade, bow, and musical talents to their efforts.

History: Nearly fifty years ago, Aust was a shaman and healer of some renown among his people. Growing up with his small family at the edge of society, that is where he remained when they eventually moved on. He made his own way at the edges the elven territories, practicing woodcraft and magic as a means of survival. When he occasionally crossed paths with travelers he treated them with respect and hospitality regardless of their race, as though the tracts of wilderness were his own home and he had invited them. More common were those who sought him out for one form of help or another.

One such visitor, and elven maiden by the name of Mirri, sought him out time and time again. At first, the she-elf engaged his services in an attempt to save her ailing mother. Aust would visit their home nearly every season to do what he could, but was never able to do more than ease the elderly elf's discomfort and shore up her failing health. This lasted several years, and during that time a bond formed between Aust and Mirri. When eventually her mother passed, Mirri gave up her home to travel with Aust.

For nearly twenty years the pair traveled together and were happy. All good things, however, must come to an end. During a particularly harsh storm, Aust and Mirri were separated near the border of elven and human territories. After eschewing food and rest for a full day, the elf eventually located his partner and love. Once the storm had passed, she had approached a group of humans and asked for their help and hospitality. The men had proven to be slavers, and took her captive. Aust spotted his lover among the men from afar, and settled in to wait for an opportune moment to free her.

Late that night, Aust snuck into the slaver camp. In darkness and silence, he slipped into the tent where Mirri was being kept while most of the twenty slavers were gathered around their fire. So focused was he on freeing her that he did not sense it when a guard crept up from behind. They had expected someone to come for the she-elf. The leader of the group was determined to prove to the stubborn elf that they both belonged to him now. Bound in heavy chains, Aust was forced to watch as his lover was passed between men around the fire like no more than a bottle of liqueur. When they were finished Mirri was tossed aside like trash, where she lay completely still in the dirt.

Pushed beyond the point of reason and helpless to do anything else, Aust called to his magic. Something he had once considered unthinkable, he used the forces of life and creation to bring a violent end to the men around him. Twenty lives were snuffed out like so many candles in a strong wind. Still numbed by shock and the adrenaline rush brought on by the situation Aust felt neither grief nor regret, which struck him as extremely wrong. Still not thinking clearly, he etched these things permanently into his flesh. Even if he could not feel them in that moment, he would forever bear the scars both upon his heart and his face.

Disgusted by the fact that he had twisted his magic against its intended purpose, Aust decided for himself to become an exile. He left elven lands behind of his own will, determined to wander further than he ever had before. It was then that he met Lothren and originally joined the Ytharien. He did not remain long, however, volunteering to be dispatched as a scout into Areta.

Clothing and Armor

[Errant Son]

Lord Gawain Castagher of Keep Sudval

“Yeah? Well what did 'ya expect?! Fuck the Eretol, fuck the Elves, fuck the Dwarves, and above all fuck those Vicennians! They want war?! Well come get some, you fuckin' blasphemous mages!”

---

【Name】

Gawain Castagher

【Age】

22

【Gender】

I'm evidently male, ye' fuck!

【Race】

I'd be damned to ever be anything other than a pure-bred Aretian man!

---

【Appearance】

Gawain is a relatively nice-looking man, although beauty is as always in the eye of the beholder. No lady shall swoon over him if she doesn't enjoy his visage, after all. Gawain himself is less concerned with such trivial things as love and feelings, which is noticeable in his lack of care for his appearance. Some might say that is in and of it's own a trait that makes him more desirable. And to that, Gawain would say 'fuck off, you twat.' But, let us move on to a description of sorts.

His face has a nice bone structure - his jawline is sharp, as if drawn with a pencil and ruler, and ends in a slightly pointy, blocky chin. However that much is not very visible - his blonde thin beard covers most of that. He has skinny cheeks, making it look like he is malnourished, but that's simply the bone structure that seems to run within his family. No such thing as undernourishment is present in Gawain, no sir.

Furthermore, he has a thin, but sharp nose. It doesn't expand outwards too far, about 'average' in size if that is any good of an indicator. Besides that, he has thin lips. They are pale in color, only slightly darker than his own skin. Speaking of his skin, he's quite pale too. The most noticeable part of his body is likely the three dots on his forehead, a religious mark that brand him a 'Monarchist' - a slightly tolerated sect of the regular faith that believes the King to be the reincarnation of God on Earth. Divine Rule! Hence they are some of the utmost loyal people in the realm, despite the shortcomings of their God-King. That was illustrated perfectly well by how loyal they were even to the near-insane king that used his power to tyrannize the people. He was God, after all, who are they to doubt him?

His hair is well kept, and slicked back with a bandana over it to keep it in place. However the bandana isn't his only accessory - he wears a set of earrings, silver buttons the size of a small coin, one on each side. Anyway, moving on with his hair, it's blonde in colour due to his amazing genes. Just kidding. Both parents were blonde. What did you think, peasant? His hair moves on quickly into a thing beard lining his jawline, forming quickly into a full beard across his chin and upper lip - truly, what man calls himself a man without such beard?

【Brief character outline】

Fuck. Everything. No, that'd be too simple. Gawain is a very racist, sexist, anti-anything that isn't normal. And in his eyes, anything that isn't an Aretian human isn't normal. Women should be taking care of their children, Elves should be prancing in their own god-damn woods, Dwarves should bugger off into their caves and leave the REAL world-ruling to the humans. And for the Vicennians.. Screw them double over! Those blasphemous mages tempt God to war with them every day! If our God-King were here, Gawain would be sure that he'd declare war right away to go fight those blasphemous heathens.

Besides the vulgarities and hatred for anything that isn't Aretian human-like, he's actually an okay guy. Okay, that's a lie. He's pretty much an asshole. But he's an asshole with a title, so at least you can't say it to his face. He likes to fight, though, and he has this thin called honor, so he's not that much of an asshole. Okay, I lied again. He's still an asshole but he won't stab you in the back I guess.

【History】

Born the second son of a low-ranking nobleman in the family of Castagher, keepers of the keep of Sudval, yadda yadda, long list of purely useless titles here that were given to them by the insane cruel king for their services and money. Gawain was lucky being the second son, since he avoided the strenuous task of being tutored in all things that had to do with the management of a keep, and instead got to enjoy an education in combat. Fun!

Didn't take long for him to be allowed to squire for some other nobleman. The lucky nobleman was marcher-lord Kristofal, who lived in the march (a specific type of hold, which was exempt from taxes and was mainly just a fort with a large garrison on border provinces.. you know, to protect the important land and stuff..) near the border of the Vicennians. That's where Gawain learned how much of a blasphemous folk those Vicennians were! He never actually saw them doing blasphemous things but lord Kristofal told him all about it - they do not bury their dead, they throw them in a campfire and then cook potions over the burning bodies of their family, and then LAUGH about it. Obviously such blasphemy is intolerable, so they must be eradicated.

And so, his view is still the same. Minus the hocus-pocus, he just hates the Vicennians all together, not just because they are mage tolerators. Death to Vicennia! Death to the Elves, the Dwarves and those horse-shagging Eretol!

[Thortimer]

[Name]
Marcus Eldroe
[Age]
26
[Gender]
Male
[Race]
Human

-Appearance-

Marcus is exceptionally thin, made strikingly apparent given how tall he is. At 6’5’’, one might see his appearance as almost ‘frail’ looking, especially against his pale skin, wide angular shoulders and jawline. While he may not be the toughest or strongest, it’s his wit that often carries him through. Wit and intellect that can clearly be seen behind his unwavering blue irises. Eyes that are sometimes obscured by raven black hair that has grown out to the middle of his back. In most instances, he wears robes traditional of Viceni Magi.

[Brief character concept]
Marcus was the apprentice of Magus Almeri Corellian, who was at Muon Pond interrogating some Aretan Knight about recent disturbances in Vicenna’s territories. He could very nearly be considered a Magus himself, though his teacher would often comment that he had so much left to learn. But now, with the lands being burned around him and his master missing or worse, he needs to learn why this band of raiders is sacking the towns of Vicenna and bring an end to it if he can; and perhaps save his master if he yet lives.

[History]
Marcus was an only child born to a quiet family of farmers, though it seemed he was never destined for their life. He was enamored in magic and the ways of the Viceni Magi. He’d always sneak away from his work to seek out and watch them whenever he could. It seems someone of their order took a liking to him. He was apprenticed to a Viceni Magus at the young age of 11, much to the displeasure of his parents. He eagerly took the position and studied dutifully under the Magus. It was everything he hoped, except for, perhaps, being the one made to mop the floors and tidy libraries. His new apprenticeship took him far from home, and often granted him the opportunity to see the strange and marvelous, but offered little time to return home to see his family. Magus Almeri Corellian, his master, kept the two of them quite busy with both work and travel. Though, the people of Vicenna, wherever they went, were always very welcoming of the mages and made them feel at home, even at the fringes like Muon Pond.

[Fireball XL5]

Harold Marthas

Male, 51, Aretan-born.
Parents, deceased.
No living family.

A man that'd make any mage nervous.

Harold has spent a lifetime ferreting out the dangerous elements of society; those who practice magic, and those complicit in their activities. Though he has spent the last eight years in the village of Udny Mill, he spent much of his professional career employed as a royal inquisitor for Aretan magistrates. Although now semi-retired, he has not lost any of his fervour for bringing his judgement upon the evil and the corrupt, and still carries some authority for enacting the sovereign will of the Aretan state.

When he worked for the military he had many duties but now that he has more time to enjoy life, he finds that he only really truly finds peace in punishing magic users. This has led to a spike in mage executions, at least as far as his personal tally goes.

A more troubling development of late is that some of those who met their demise at the tail-end of a Marthas trial were simply detractors; those who disagreed with his work, or were critical of his methods. A recent scandal left his reputation hanging from a thread. The man once known as Mage-Scourge now finds himself at a crossroads, a point at which he must restore his name, or face being discredited. A consequence of which could mean execution.

[Lyaer]

Name: Perrine Anquis
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Race: Human (Aretan Nobility)

Appearance:
To understand Perrine's aesthetic sensibility, one needs know two things: First, in the morn, while the serving girls bathe and dress her, while they attend to her face, her nails, and those impossible sleep-matted curls, Perrine sees in her mind an hourglass, broken, so that with each stroke of the comb, each dab of powder, each new layer of fine silk or cotton that must be folded just so, adjusted, fastened, adjusted again, a few more grains of precious sand are loosed into the wind, lost, never again hers, when there is so much yet to be done. Second, however, this whole damnable process is what it takes to make the Lady Perrine Anquis a thing of relative beauty - to show her wealth, her nobility - to make her a lady at all. An upstart girl and would-be heiress to an ailing lord can afford to be nothing less if she hopes to be taken seriously.

Frankly, Perrine is short - about 4'11" - with soft, rounded features that, prior to paints and powders, leave a common, even vacant impression. Her skin is a sandy shade of light tan and smooth in that way afforded by the union of youth and the avoidance of physical stress, if not unblemished by the occasional mole or birthmark. Her oft tired eyes are the deep brown of cloves. Her hair (that same hue) she keeps trimmed just below the shoulder blades - an inadequate compromise to convenience, in the name of propriety Her dress is informed by those same warring principles. It is fine, to be sure, and hews close enough to the present trends to avoid scandal, but is never more elaborate than it needs to be. On a good day, she is elegant.

Brief character concept:
Perrine is the second daughter of the twice-widowed Lord Demour Anquis, baron of Greenbank, a stretch of land along the Neratine once famous for its verdancy, though it has since been claimed by the desert. The Anquis are a wealthy family, but Demour's health is failing, and it has fallen to Perrine to aid him in those duties which must be kept within the family, and in recent years she has become known as the public face of House Anquis at court.

Perrine is ambitious, precocious, and well-tutored. She prefers directness to subtlety in interpersonal matters, though she has not always found this approach to work out in her favor, and struggles to conduct her affairs with a lighter touch. She works hard, but patience is not her strongest suit. In the quiet hours, of which there are few, she is prone to loneliness and exhaustion.

She is no fighter, but rarely travels unchaperoned, and can rely on the Anquis House Guard for protection or violence if the need arises. She carries a small dagger and knows enough anatomy to cut someone somewhere vital - at least in theory. In times of larger scale conflict, House Anquis can rally the lesser nobles and peasantry of Greenbank into a considerable fighting force, and is wealthy enough to supplement its numbers through the hire of mercenary companies.

Finally, her goals are simple: Perrine will supplant her younger half-brother as the heir to her father's name, titles, and estate. When her father passes, which she fears may be sooner than later, she will take his place at the head of the Anquis family. She will lead her house to glory, power, and wealth. She will protect her father's legacy.

History:
Demour Anquis married twice. His first wife, Emeline bore him two sons and two daughters. The eldest son was Sacha, followed a year later by the brother-and-sister twins Auguste and Katelle, followed six years after that by Perrine herself. Three summers later, Emiline caught fever, and passed, and the next spring Auguste drowned in the Neratine. Demour mourned the losses of his wife and son, and it was some time before he remarried Nolwenn, a younger lady from Marion Bay, who died birthing his final son, Mathys. Some say the grief finally took him, though Demour was hardly a man of great constitution to begin with; whatever the cause, his health began to fail soon after, and has only worsened in the years since.

When Perrine was thirteen, her eldest brother Sacha, then a knight, was wounded in a skirmish and did not survive the trek home. With Katelle long since married to an up-and-coming lord from the northeast, and Mathys a mere lad of six, it was left to Perrine to aid their father with the house's affairs - a mountain of duties which has only grown as his condition continued to deteriorate. When her father's health declined too much to travel the Neratine by barge, it was Perrine who was selected to represent House Anquis at court in Marion Bay.

In the intervening years, Perrine has spent much of her spare time studying, preparing for a day when she must lead without her father's insight to guide her. Letters and numbers, anatomy, philosophy and scripture, geography and history, the tactics and logistics of war, and the harsh laws of nature, commerce, and politics - all the things needed to rule justly, and (more to the point) effectively.

Affiliations:
Like many the ambitious young noble (and more than a few of the bored ones, though boredom is a feeling she can scarce recall), Perrine has sought camaraderie, intrigue, and the promise of gifts and favors owed in the form of membership in a few of the secret societies which pepper the shaded alleys of Marion Bay, if one knows where to look. She is a member of two: The Sorority of the Red Crocodile, and The Circle of Mirth.

The Sorority of the Red Crocodile, or The Sisters Red, for short, is a women's society that exists primarily to form bonds between its own members and facilitate the mobilization of skills, information, and resources for mutual benefit and, if need be, protection. Largely, they are loyal to their own. The Sisters Red have occasionally been known to participate in charitable endeavors, but the group is also rumored to be have ties to black markets throughout the cities of Areta, and even to be involved in espionage and assassination. If there is some deeper purpose behind the organization besides its stated mission of sorority for its own sake, however, Perrine is not in the know.

The Circle of Mirth is a mystery cult to the smiling angel Hayaz, an exotic, foreign deity diplomatically reclassified and subordinated to the Aretan's True God for all the obvious reasons. The cult has a small central temple in Marion Bay, and even smaller chapels in most of Areta's other population centers. It keeps a low profile, and keeps most of its core doctrines and practices a secret from the general public, and indeed its own membership. The cult is deeply hierarchical and information is doled out sparingly, tier by tier. Entry level parishioners are concerned primarily with currying favor from Hayaz himself through various simple rituals and sacrifices. As one goes a bit deeper, the basic doctrine is revealed: a rejection of asceticism and the embrace of excess. Hayaz teaches that what God has put into the world is a gift for Man, and it can be no sin to accept it. At first, excess is understood in more or less purely hedonistic terms, and the cult has not managed completely to quell the rumors of ritual orgies (this is likely by design - a cynical ploy attract to new members). At the next tier, it is understood that just as it cannot be sinful to indulge oneself in too much pleasure, so too the quest for power is not made more virtuous by temperance. This doctrine is guarded more closely, as it leads quite naturally into the core heresy of the Circle:

Magic is of God, and it is for Man to do with as he sees fit.

This revelation marks the point of no return for the acolyte. Should one attempt to leave the Circle with this knowledge in their minds, or worse, to share it with the uninitiated, they will be tracked down and killed. Those they have spoken with will be tracked down and killed. The Circle of Mirth can afford to spares no expense in guarding secrets as dangerous as these.

The payoff, however, is that this is when the instruction in magic begins. Simple cantrips, at first, the equivalent of parlor tricks, but there are promises of more: for the patient, the dedicated, untold power awaits.

For her part, Perrine has seen and mastered only the first few cantrips, with none of the theory behind them, but she is nothing if not dedicated.

[ThatCharacter]

Tobias Ilingard

Age: 25

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance:
Tobias is an above average looking man. He has a sharp face, with brown eyes and sharp brows that take in the world narrowly, processing information quickly and immediately converting into something useful. He stands around 5’9”. He has a lean frame, besides his arms which are strong and supple, well-honed after years of pulling back a bowstring. He keeps his light brown hair short, and has grown a beard to further disguise himself from anyone who might recognize him from his time spent as a nobleman.

Brief character concept:
Tobias is a relatively affable man. He is quick to make jokes at his own expense, and often is self-deprecating. Despite this, he has a high self-worth, and still remembers his time in the court and the blood that flows through his veins. He is quick to accept that he has much to learn. Despite all this, Tobias is somewhat sensitive and neurotic, though he can put these things aside when the situation demands it. He also has a sort of biting wit that has made him just as many friends as enemies.

History:
Tobias is the bastard child of a middling lord and his mistress. His father is Count Reufeld, a stern man who has a deep connection to his daughter. His mother, Itlyonne, is believed to be dead. He is the middle child. His older half-brother, Aran, is the naive heir to his father’s small castle and county surrounding it. His ruthless younger half-sister, Jaysla, detests Tobias greatly. His family possessed Lormanie Castle, a small hold in the South of Areta.

Tobias was born in a noble family, though he always knew he was different from his older half-brother. While he trained for battle, his brother focused on academics and strategy. Although he had a good relationship with his brother, it was often made clear that he was a bastard, and lucky to be living such a life. Tobias’s father was warm and tended to dote on Tobias while he was young. In contrast, his father’s wife detested him greatly for most of his childhood, until she died giving birth to his sister, who seemed determined to carry that hate with her.

After his wife’s death, Count Reufeld’s temperament became far more grave, as he invested all that he could into Aran, the eventual heir. Tobias continued to learn, as he imagined himself being the right-hand man to his brother’s eventual rule. Tobias never questioned what had come of his mother, though he found out one night when his father, particularly sodden, let it slip while trying to discipline Aran. He heard his father mention “the whore who was now dead” but before he could hear any more, his father spotted him eavesdropping and beat him.

In the years following, Tobias thought often of his mother but never left the castle for fear of his father’s rage. However, Tobias never truly found a comfortable space in the castle or his father’s heart. As he grew older, his sister’s resentment only deepened, and so he was not quite surprised when his father confronted him, speaking of a supposed plot for Tobias to usurp his brother’s throne. Tobias had no such intentions, but realized that a father convinced by his youngest daughter would not be reasoned with, and so left the castle shortly afterwards. In doing so, he cemented the rumours into truth, or at least that was how others viewed it.

Tobias was disheartened to leave his brother and did not even receive the opportunity to say goodbye. Despite this, he felt a sort of relief as he left what he had called home for so many years. He was left to go free, though many clamoured for his head as he left the county.

Tobias traveled for many years, and eventually settled down in a small Vicennan town in need of a hunter. He enjoyed the sense of being welcomed by the community and quickly established himself as an aloof hunter and woodsman. Still, he gained clout among the community as the stranger who would often come to their aid when they required it. He grew attached to the country that was not his own, more than he had ever when he was nobility in Areta.