Famotill — Roleplayer Guild

A Tale of Owls

Content Warning:This RP may contain uncomfortable or violent themes. While this won't make up the entirety of the RP it will be featured. Quests will feature a summary (and content warning) as well as links to the starting point. If a quest features a topic you are uncomfortable with feel free to skip over it.

Tale of Owls Collab (For Players):Here

Abraham Von Konosk@Avanhelsing
Name: Abraham " Bram" Von Konosk
Continent of Birth: Carthian, Cambridge
Race: Human
Sexuality: Homosexual
Appearance: 


Class: Artificer, Alchemist
Mage School of Foci: None
Starter Equipment: 
Light noble clothes (The picture but with a white shirt)
Six Bombs
    2 Explosive Bomb- This Bomb detonate to harm the target. Very loud to any one who hears it.
2x Stun Grenade : This Bomb lets out a bright light that stuns those who looks directly at the bomb. It is quite loud.
Smoke Bomb- Designed to knock the person out by breathing in the smoke. It works best if it is next to the target and the target does not expect it. (Not a combat bomb)
3 Health Potions and three Stamina Potions of his own creation
His Family's Signet Ring Given to him by his grandfather. It shows who he is
Advanced Alchemy Kit (Can only use the full kit when resting.) 
 Alchemy Tome
Alchemical Tools
Alchemical Reagents

Age:21
Personality: 
Knowledgeable
Helpful
Curious

Character Traits: 
Quick Witted
Polite
Brave
Daring
Sheltered

Strengths:
Formal Situations
Alchemical Knowledge
Decent Fighter
Intelligent
Making Friends

Weaknesses:
Knowing about how the common man lives
Sheltered from the outside world
Haughty at times
Flirts with the wrong kind of men

Fears:
Failing his family
Not being the smartest person in the room
Losing his mind like most of his family

Brief History:
Abraham Lucius Flammel Von Konosk was born as the second son of a prominent Earl in the city of Cambridge. The product of his father's second marriage, Bram was second to his five year old brother. His family held the title of Earl in charge of Ardent Falls and Warsaw but his father was not Earl at the time of Bram's birth. His grandfather was the Earl at the time though his time was limited. From a young age, Bram showed great promise. He had a quick wit and a fierce intelligence. His half-brother had none of these qualities and was brutish and spoiled. 

Abraham's Grandfather, the Earl at the time, noticed the boy's skills and doted on him.The old Earl had never cared for his own son since he saw the man as spoiled.  The Earl would take his grandson to the Capital with him teaching the boy lessons that he would need should he ever become the Earl. The Earl sent an elf tutor to the boy to teach him courtly graces, languages, manners, and sword fighting. After Abraham nearly blew up the dining room with a bomb of his own making, he was sent a dwarfish tutor to train the boy in the ways of the Alchemist. It was this dwarf who gave Abraham his nickname since his full name was far to long to say at once.  Abraham flourished under his tutelage learning everything that he could from his tutors. His father, resentful of the attention he got, locked young Bram in a far off wing of the mansion. Bram used this time to read everything he could. 

Then, a few months before his thirteenth birthday, his Grandfather grew ill. His entire family swarmed the old man to try and get whatever they could from his death. They expected the old man to call for his son whilst on his death bed. Instead, he called for Bram to come to him. While there, the old man told Bram how he had wanted to name him as the heir to the Earldom but the law was strict in these matters. Instead he gave Bram the family signet ring that announced to the world that he intended his youngest grandson to be his heir regardless of the law. His father was livid at the idea but still inherited the title as was the custom. Bram was willed the family country estate with the staff instead of it going to his father. This drove a wedge in the family with the new Earl sending his son away to the estate to be far from the capital. There, Bram used his freedom to get out from under his father's shadow. Instead of hiding in the country, Bram used this to bring the capital to him. He invited all walks of people to the estate so he could learn from them. Using his small inheritance from his grandfather, he invested the money to make his own money. Whenever he could, Bram would invite the second and third children of the other noble houses to the estate for balls since that was a way to make friends in the same situation as himself. 

His father would only call on him when he needed something done outside of the area. Bram would often get sent to Ardent Falls when his father did not feel like going himself. Bram still wants to make his grandfather proud and take the family in the direction it needs to be in. That however will require a lot of powerful friends.

Ferox the Black Blade @GrizzTheMauler
Name: Ferox Blackheart
*Alias: The Black Blade
Continent of Birth: Carthian 
Race: Half Elf
*Sexuality: Homosexual 
*Appearance: 


Has a massive tattoo on his back that depicts an angel with a sword in one hand an a set of scales in the other surrounded by runic lines.



Age: 23
Starter Equipment: 
- set of black iron daggers
- 2x steel sword, leather grip. 
- poultices and poisons
- emblem of Veruun

Personality: Patient - Thoughtful - Strong-willed 
Ferox is an enigma, he exudes a cold aura of someone who has seen many deaths, yet is hesitant to go into battle himself, without a plan or good reason. He believes that just because someone has power, it doesn't mean that they can demand others to do as they please. He is speaker of cold hard truths and does not boast of his obvious skill. Instead he lets his actions speak for themselves, regardless of the consequences it may bring.

Character Traits: Intuitive - Chaotic(bends the rules) - Resilient - Daring - Good

Strengths:
-Excellent Judge of Character
-Knows how to take out someone of any size
- Slow to anger
- Excellent memory

Weaknesses:
-"Too Much Gene" takes things a bit extreme sometimes.
- Gets a bit uneasy at the sight of copious amounts of blood.
- When angry, it's really hard to get him to calm down
- Distrustful of others

Fears:
- What happens after death
- His father and Grandfather
- His father's men

Class: Bladedancer

Brief History: "I'd love to tell you. But that s a lie and if you found out, you would have to, uh... Disappear. And well... We really don't want to have that happen, eh?"

*Theme Song:


Rex tremendæ majestatis,
Qui salvandos salvas gratis,
Salva me, fons pietatis.
King of Majesty tremendous,
Who dost free salvation send us,
Fount of pity, then befriend us!

Quantus tremor est futurus,
Quando Judex est venturus,
Cuncta stricte discussurus!
Oh, what fear man's bosom rendeth,
When from heaven the Judge descendeth,
On whose sentence all dependeth.﻿ 

Damnata, invisus, ubique
Ab omnibus, ad infinitum:
Damned, hated, everywhere,
by everyone, forever

Sir Merek the Brave @shivershiver
Sir Merek the Brave, Baron of Ashenfield, Champion of Armond, Guardian of the People, Slayer of Dragons, the Destroyer of Urak, Sentinel of the King, The Defiant One, Hero of Baker's Bay, Lord of the Dance, Master of. . .






Name: Merek

Continent of Birth: Carthian

Race: Human

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Age: 32

Appearance: Merek cuts a somewhat-but-not-really average figure, standing at 6’0 and weighing roughly 200 pounds. His muscles bulge slightly, but fail to achieve any level of strong definition, a thin layer of persistent fat preventing him from looking lean thanks to his love for mead. No potbelly, but certainly no 6-pack. Much of his tanned skin is marred with a variety of scars from his less fortunate days, though a collection of fresh cuts cover his face from a recent scuffle, likely to scar. Merek's wavy, swept-back brown hair is never extends beyond his ears and he tries his best to stay clean-shaven to accentuate his and strong jaw line and chin. His face is a little long, with a broad forehead and pronounced cheekbone, and a large Roman nose. Merek's eyes are large and dark, usually squinted from grinning or laughing, and are framed by thick eyebrows. 

Starting Equipment: Merek carries most gear on his trusty stallion, a great white warhorse he can barely ride named Stormy Weather, or Stormy. In his saddlebags and slung across the beast he carries two modest healing potions, a waterskin of water and another two of wine, a small full coinpurse, his crossbow and bolts, a whetstone, a bedroll and small grey tent bearing his sigil on it. On his person, Merek carries a steel longsword on his hip along with a dagger in his boot, and a spear with a wooden shaft and long steel tip. He typically wears high-quality armor, but he appears to have lost much of it somehow. Merek has a simple red gambeson, chainmail shirt and pants, slightly faded grey trousers, plate boots, a single gauntlet and pauldron, couters, vambraces and a white surcoat with his sigil on the center. 

Personality: Arrogant. Merek is just really arrogant. The haughty baron is extremely confident in his abilities, even though he truly isn't skilled in much, just graced with luck by the god Armond. Still, Merek feels as though he is simply great at everything. Philosophy? No problem. Swordplay? Easy. In his mind, there isn't much he can't do. Still, his self-assurance has some merits. He has an extraordinarily positive outlook despite his oftentimes pessimistic sense of humor, and is never afraid to give something his all, the thought of failure never even considered. Despite his comical hubris, Merek can be charming, though often in an overbearing way. His cockiness gives him an air of being almost larger than life, deep voice boasting of his hyperbolic accomplishments in both bed and battle, which may appeal to some. He doesn't often lie, per se, but definitely likes to exaggerate. 

Merek doesn't much care for his new title as baron, though he loves to flaunt the others, preferring earned ones over those bestowed, though many of them were "earned" by drunken tavern rowdiness rather than any true feats. The man much prefers the company of simple commoners in a rambunctious bar over royalty in a stuffy great hall, and tends to mock the latter. Merek doesn't like to display his wealth either, placing more value in actions rather than possessions as evident by his rather worn-down gear and clothing. Merek hates being alone, and requires almost constant companionship, be it a lover or simply someone to share a drink with; the more the merrier, in either case. In private, Merek's confidence is slightly toned down and he becomes a little less boastful, one would never call him humble. Merek is terribly quick to trust people and always willing to give second chances, though those that cross him can be sure he'll do his best to slay them.

Cocky • Brave • Generous • Trusting • Ignorant


Strengths:
Drunken Champion: Alcohol has a peculiar effect on the champion of Armond. He is able to draw significant power from drinks depending on the type of alcohol. Wine provides Merek with wit and persuasion at the cost of some of his motor functions, beer and mead make him stronger but even more idiotic, and spirits allow the baron to shrug off heavier blows but cloud his vision severely. To receive these bonuses, Merek must drink enough that it would intoxicate a normal man his size. The bonus lasts for as long as he is intoxicated, which is roughly 4 hours. If he tries to drink enough of each, or more after four hours, however, Merek just gets sloppy drunk, and possibly sick. Afterwards, the positive effect returns to normal, but the negative effect remains for another 6 hours. 

Wheelin’ and Dealin’: Merek knows a good deal when he sees one. His time as a merchant, though tainted with bad luck, has given the him a knack for buying and selling goods of all sorts at better prices than most could manage. 

Iron Will: Even when his body is broken, Merek’s spirit will never falter. He spent almost his whole life on the down-and-out, but always managed to look on the bright side of life, or at least ignore the bad. Merek is less susceptible to mind spells, intimidation, and torture than the average person. 

Folk Hero: Merek’s deeds in Ashenfield haven’t gone unnoticed by the peasants the realm. The tale of “Merek the Brave” slaying the evil baron and breathing life back into the town is known all across the land, and his reputation earns him instant rapport in the household of any peasant; they will go out of their way to help him and his companions, be it friendly advice or safe lodging. However, many nobles are not fond of his actions, calling him “Merek the Fool,” arguably a more accurate title. Royalty tolerate him at best, and become hostile at the most insignificant slight. 

Praying Man: Once a day, Merek can pray to the god Armond and receive his blessing. For an hour, Merek is luckier, stronger, and able to absorb heavier blows, but after the hour is up he is very fatigued and noticeably less lucky. The prayer takes little time, maybe half a minute, and requires no sacrifices or paraphernalia. 

Read’em and Weep: After years of losing, Merek loves playing card games and emptying others’ pockets. Not just lucky, Merek is a skilled player in all card games, and is quick to pick up any new ones he encounters. 

Weaknesses:
Flirtatious: No matter the situation, Merek is always seeking out worthy wenches to bed, a trait that has earned him many scars over his life. He is very susceptible to seduction, and partnered with his inflated ego, it would be very easy to lure the champion into a trap with a little exposed flesh. Merek isn’t particularly picky either; humans, elves, orcs or sirens, he will attempt to sleep with any of them. Some folks even talk of how he tried to seduce a forest troll, but people love to talk. 

Novice Combatant: Though he’s been in countless scraps and fights, Merek doesn’t often brawl with trained fighters, and as a result is fairly inexperienced. He’s been training with a sword and spear as of late, and knows enough to get by, but relies heavily on luck alone to win. 

Merek the Fool: Though the champion is skilled in a few fields, like whoring, gambling, and bartering, Merek is far from the wisest man in the realm. He can barely read, knows little of formal matters like royalty or lineage, and distrusts magic or mages. Merek travels, or more appropriately wanders, based on his poor intuition and luck alone, relying on his reputation among commoners to make it from place to place. Though he’s travelled far and wide, he hardly remembers the places he’s been or how to get there. His squire, a more worldly and well-traveled man, left Merek, so he is currently rudderless. 

Friend? Friend!: Merek is hyper-trusting, putting far too much faith in his natural charisma and ability to persuade. He believes that almost anyone he speaks with are immediately won over by his charm and he puts all his trust into them, especially if they’re a female. Merek knows no strangers and has no enemies, or so he thinks, and this mindset has gotten him into many misadventures. 

Head in the Clouds: Merek pays little attention to his surroundings, usually lost in conversation or thought, though his thoughts aren’t particularly revelationary. The champion is much more susceptible to ambushes and traps, as he simply waltzes about, almost believing himself invincible. 

Fears:
Merek almost drowned as a young boy while trying to learn how to swim, and is frightened by water. He avoids large bodies whenever possible, and despises sailing. Even crossing bridges over water makes him nervous. Merek fears losing his status as champion of Armond and returning to his life as a normal, terribly unlucky man. Though he isn’t currently in danger of losing Armond’s favor, the thought is always in the back of his mind. Aging scares Merek more than anything else, becoming an old man incapable of doing anything and stuck in his own home, now a prison. Also, snakes. Merek hates snakes and other manner of slithery creatures. 

Class: Champion

Brief History: Sir Merek of Ashfield didn’t always live in the fine Ashen Keep with his regal title. No, when he was born, the baron was known as simply known as Merek, a simple peasant and son of a poor wares peddler in a village south of Ardent's Fall. Merek inherited little aside from his parent's terrible misfortune, and he quickly earned the decidedly un-noble epithet “Merek the Unlucky.”  He was an average boy, a little dumber than most, but the root of all his woes came from his terrible luck. If there was a sickness plaguing the village, Merek would be the first one to catch it. If a thief slipped into the village, they’d steal everything but the kitchen table from Merek’s home. Though he constantly suffered, the young Merek learned to power through any challenges life threw at him with a smile. After his parent’s early death, Merek slipped out of his village by joining a passing merchant’s caravan, puffing himself up as both a savvy trader and excellent swordsman; the former had some truth to it, but the latter was a complete lie.

Though the scenery changed, Merek's hardships did not. After taking him on, the merchant noticed that he was constantly being hit by bandits, corrupt guards seeking bribes, and missing goods. Merek quickly found himself unemployed, though this time in Ashenfield, a tiny city east of Bear Hill in the nation of Astoria. The town is surrounded by bountiful farmlands, though this wasn't always so. The town earned its name after the War of Splitting Branches, when the whole area, farms, houses and all was burned to the ground and reduced to ash. In a strange twist of fate, the ash fertilized the soil and made the town that rose from the destruction even more prosperous, with crops growing at almost twice the speed. Some even think that the elves left behind some residual magic that makes the food grown there taste even better. The young man traveled the lands, bouncing from job to job, gambling and drinking his money away when he ever had any, but always ended back in Ashenfield. After being fired for the umpteenth time, Merek visited the local tavern to waste his meager severance package on as much mead as he could drink, which wasn’t much; the baron of Ashenfield, Sir Roderik, was harsh on his citizens, taxing them heavily, restricting the flow of alcohol within the city to almost nothing, enacting  primae noctis, and executing citizens for the slightest charges. Suddenly, armed guards burst through the door, arresting all occupants of the tavern. Sir Roderik had set forth a new law that day, completely prohibiting the consumption of alcohol for peasants. Merek was taken to the dungeon below Ashenfield Keep and locked in chains along with the others. 

Merek wasn’t sure how many days had passed in the dungeon, but one night, a vision came to him in his sleep. A robed, heavy-set man sprawled not-so-elegantly on a floating cloud with a goblet of red wine in his hand and surrounded by coin spoke to him. He said he was Armond, god and patron saint of merchants, gamblers, and drunks. The god explained little, but named Merek as his champion to return wealth to the downtrodden city. When he awoke, the newly crowned champion of Armond found the bolts binding his shackles to the dungeon walls were heavily rusted and shattered with a tug. Merek found the rest of the escape just as easy, with the door unlocked and the guards asleep. He was about to leave Ashenfield for good when he remembered the dream; it was best not to anger the gods. For better or worse, Merek charged into Roderik’s great hall and challenged him to a duel, despite his inexperience with a blade. Seeing this as a good opportunity to show off his prowess before the peasants, the baron accepted.

The duel took place in the town square, Sir Roderik wearing full plate armor and wielding a massive mace and shield, while Merek was armed with nothing but a crude and rusted broadsword. The baron mopped the floor with the peasant, knocking him senseless with blow after blow, intentionally drawing the fight out to make an example of him. Just as Roderik wound up for the killing strike, Merek staggered and tripped on his own feet, falling flat on his face before the baron. He waited for the mace to crush him, but all Merek heard was the clatter of armor as Roderik fell beside him, a rusty sword sticking out of his stomach. 

When Merek awoke, he was no longer just a peasant merchant. The laws of the land dictated that the victor of a duel is entitled to all property of the defeated, and with Sir Roderik soundly dead, Merek became baron of Ashenfield, much to the citizen’s joy. As the new ruler, Merek set about striking down all of Roderik’s laws, and the town became a haven for gambling, taverns, and merchants. The peasants loved him, and Merek enjoyed the perks his newfound luck brought. He spent his days travelling, drinking and adventuring, delegating his noble responsibilities to Rolph, his seneschal and a former inn-keeper. Unfortunately, it came to Merek's attention that he had not only inherited Sir Roderik's wealth, but also the great debt the former baron accrued. In danger of losing his keep, Merek set out with his squire, an elderly reformed bandit named Ergon, to make his fortune abroad.

Natawa Nimiane @Emma


Name:
 Natawa Nimiane
Alias:
 Nia Rivers
Continent of Birth:
 Southeastern Waters of Penault
Race:
 Siren
Class:
 Mage
Mage School of Foci:
 Constitution
Starter Equipment:
 Her clothes.
 A leather coin pouch containing: Dried Kelp, Shells, Pearls, Coral Beads, and gold from a sunken ship.
Age:
 22
Personality:
 Natawa is free-spirited and wants to experience all that life has to offer. She has always been a clever, intelligent and adventurous girl. She can be very blunt, and has a direct way of approaching things, mainly because she doesn't know the social constructs on land. She understands there is more to life than what you see and touch. She is secretive about her world, but that comes with being a Siren. She finds beauty in ordinary things. Do to her naivety about the world, she can come across and innocent and dumb, though she is anything but. She tends to give her trust freely, but once its broken she never fully forgives. Braking a promise to her is the worst possible thing, as its seen as a sin in Sirens terms.
Character Traits:
 Curious • Adventurous • Intelligent • Perceptive • Unpretentious • Naive 

Strengths:
 Quick learner
 Can breath underwater
 Observant
 Adept in constitution magic
 Good eyesight
Weaknesses:
 Clumsy on land
 Ignorant about the cultures, and customs on land
 Ice 
 Can not read or write
 No fighting skills whatsoever
Fears:
 The extinction of her people
 Dark Elves
 Death
 Pain
History:
 Nimiane was born deep in the ocean off the southeastern coast of Penault. She and her family along with hundreds of other sirens became displaced as the toxic waters of Oceana Abyssal expanded into their region of the ocean. She grew up in a cove in and around the caves surrounding Oceana Abyssal. Unfortunately she was seven years old when a group of dark elf slavers raided the hidden cove. Natawa along with a dozen other sirens were taken. She was kept in a dungeon with the others for months. Things such as their blood, scales, tears, and hair were harvested bit by bit as dark elf mages tested the magical properties of Sirens. Rescue thankfully came, and she escaped with the surviving few.  

 She was taken in by a siren woman named Oona. Finding her parents became a impossibility, as the Oceana Abyssal toxic waters seeped into the migration paths between the oceans. If her parents were still alive they would have to cross deadly ocean, or land to find her. She and Oona lived deep down in the underwater cavern city the Sirens call Kembre. Over time it became a refuge for the influx of displaced and wary sirens running from the dark magic. Natawa and her friends spent their spare time in a Lagoon in the mountains near Brithomdale. This is were she would meet a Foreas boy, and learn the land language. 

 All the while the adults and leaders of the sirens debated the best course of action to save their people. The deadly waters were ever expanding. Even their innate shield magics could only do so much. Sirens were dying by the thousands, and many were left without the ability to change back into their true forms, thus land locked with legs in an alien world. Seeking the source of the poisonous water was and option, but others thought migrating to the Alexandrian ocean would be best. 

 The strongest sirens have been tasked with blending in with the landfolk, and learning their ways, and if possible finding the safest path to the Alexandrian ocean, or finding and eliminating the source of the toxic water. She volunteered to help, and has now been on dry land in human form for a day. After stealing something to wear off a clothes line she is semi dressed and observing her surroundings.




Andrea Pelas @Mag Lev





Theme: Shades & Shadows




Alias: Drea

Race: Tiefling

Age: 32

Continent of Birth: Kratos, Babel, High Mist

Height: 6’5

Weight: 166lbs



Bubbly  ● Courageous  ● Proud  ● Intuitive  ● Intelligent


Personality: Despite her heritage and the disgust often expressed by others due to it, Andrea actually has a rather bubbly and kind personality. Though, all her kindness seems to disappear when she is contracted to hunt down a mage, seemingly becoming another person. Her skills and professionalism as a hunter is something she takes great pride and she will go whatever distance is needed in order to stay true to her contract. Not even a bear can stop Andrea from tracking down a mage, though she’d be more than willing to take on a whole den of bears to make sure they don’t escape.

However, one should not take her courage as blind stupidity, she is in fact rather smart and knows full well of her limits as a Hunter. It is rare for Andrea to take any contract she feels is beyond her limits, even if it means disappointing a noble or being exiled. She is no fool as to risk her life and livelihood for coin, even if it means she must ration her food or even hunt for her food.

Fears:
-Failing a Contract
-Losing her family
-The Dread God
-Being Helpless



Starter Equipment:
-An Iron cuirass padded with leather so as to make it more silent
-Hard, leather boots that are well worn and often covered in dirt
-A oak bow with iron finishes
-A leather quiver capable of holding 40 arrows
-40 Arrows with heads of steel heads
-An iron arming sword for close combat
-Her clothing consisting of three sets of brown trousers, three light green shirts, and a green cloak

Strengths:
On the Move- Andrea is a strong archer, perhaps stronger than most other hunters, but that means nothing if one cannot hit a moving target or aim while moving. Much of Andrea’s combat skill are dedicated to her training to hit a target which is moving and to stay on the move. Essentially, she focuses on reducing her foe’s ability to hit her and training to hit them. It is safe to say that her multitude of completed contracts of proof of her skill in this art. Though, it has come at a cost as she is not much of fighter when it comes to using a sword.
Follow the Scent- Tracking a beast is very different from tracking a person with a bounty, the biggest difference being that one is far more capable at hiding their tracks than the other. However, Andrea’s time in apprenticeship to her Father was not wasted on hunting animals. No, she was taught the signs of people and animals alike passing through an area, how the branches break when a person is running through a forest, where they’ll try to hide. It is hard to hide from a foe who hunts people on the regular.
Silence is Key- People and Animals startle easy, especially when on edge, and the slightest sound could ruin a surprise attack. However, Andrea has managed to master moving silently even in a dense forest so as to get the drop on her target. Of course, this skill is incredibly useful when hunting people as even a single shot can mean the difference between life or death for a Hunter.

Weaknesses:
Bargain?- Andrea is smart however she lacks the charisma to bargain down a merchant or an employer. As such, it is not rare to see her take deals that are rather inclined towards the merchant and often over pays for cheap items.
Stay Away!- There is not an ounce of cowardice in Andrea’s veins but she is heavily specialized in her combat style, so much so that she is rather lacking anywhere else. Much of her sword fighting skills are simply focused on swinging with the intent to keep the foe away or drive them off, mostly just trying to give her time to knock an arrow.
Drink Your Fill- It is safe to say that Andrea does not handle her alcohol well. In fact, she is a lightweight for a woman of such size and it often only takes a few mugs to get her right drunk. It isn’t rare for her to drink so much that she passes out or causes trouble. Luckily, she’s learned how to control herself as she got older and rarely drinks nowadays. Well, if rarely was classified as once a week.


Class: Mage Hunter (Ranger)



Few things are known about the Pelas family, fewer even can recall if there has ever been a Pelas who has not taken up the mantle of Mage Hunter. Perhaps it was by chance that Andrea became the only child of her Father and Mother and she was faced with the destiny that all the patriarchs before her had. From a young age, Andrea had been told that she would be taking over the family business, though she did not learn what that was until she was ten. That was when the true training began, when her Father told her that they would be exercising together every morning. 

Though young Andrea grew ever more distant from her childhood friends, she did not resent the physical work that she had with her Father. It was a way for them to bond, a way for her to learn more about the man who was ever so rarely home. It was through her years of physical training, learning to use a bow and the basics of sword fighting, that Andrea came to learn the truth of the family business. They were Mage Hunters, had been since the time of their ancestors, but the job was not glorious. There was no glory in hunting down mages, or hunting down regular bounties when there is not a contract. Even her Father reminded her that glory only exists for knights in fantasies, knights who slay dragons and rescue princess. Glory doesn’t exist for the man who must kill one of his kind to make coin.

But there was still pride that both he and Andrea possessed, a belief that a job does not have to be glorious so long as it keeps others safe. And so, her Father pushed her further every day, pushed her to improve his shots and move with less noise. Andrea spent over a decade training with her Father before the mantle of Mage Hunter was passed on to her. From then on, she was the Head of the Pelas family, small and dwindling though it may be. Most of her contracts were simple, a mage has gone  rogue and killed another person, it is her job to hunt them down and kill them. Though, in reality, the actual process would often take weeks, at first, due to Andrea’s inexperience in actually tracking people but her skill developed slowly over time.

It wasn’t until she was thirty years old that her Father finally told her that she had become a great Mage Hunter, though nowhere near a legend like her ancestors. However, life would prove to be difficult for her in Babel. There were fewer mages to hunt as the years went by, fewer contracts which paid enough for her to live off of for more than a week. It was this that led her to leave Babel before her thirty-first birthday for Carthus, though the land was less than welcoming to her kind. It was in Carthus that Andrea found more plentiful contracts to take, more people to hunt, and her livelihood grew once more.


 A carrier pigeon delivered both an envelope and a letter bearing a royal seal commanding my presence at the Festival of Ardent in Ardent's Fall. Following its instructions I have arrived, but have no way of opening the accompanying envelope. It appears to be protected by some kind of foreign magic. 

⍚ Find a way to open the letter 
⍚ Learn more about the Ardent Festival 
⍚ Observe the attractions of the festival. 
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