RyanTadashi

Rask's Broken Horn Band

Sorry for the extremely long post guys!

Rask's Broken Horn Band

A wide smile formed over the beautiful woman's full, pale lips. Wretha Thorne laughed, and Mordrag felt a balloon of pride and excitement rise up into his chest.

I'm a regular bloody charmer I am!

The large Gothi watched the remainder fights with perverse pleasure. The wicked grin on his face grew with each fight, and by the time Rask stood up to address the victors, Mordrag was almost giddy with excitement. Though he hadn't thought much of the majority of the fighters before the bouts began, he was certainly satisfied with those that would be his future traveling companions. The greater the strength of arms at your side, the bolder you could be. The less careful you had to be.

The drunker you could be. He chuckled to himself.

Mordrag smiled and waved farewell to the losers nearly falling over each other as they fled the basement and the sadistic psychopaths in the victors stands. He hadn't ever heard of the cursed treasure of the Sayamir Pass, but he absolutely recognized the sound of the name. They would be venturing into the highlands, through tribes of brutes akin to himself.

No worries there. I'm the greatest bruiser in the history of everything! And those funny little men we'll be bringing along just bested a legitimate Gothi shield maiden and a barbarian smaller, but seems like just as strong as me! We got quite the legendary band here. Mordrag beamed with overconfidence. Lost in his haughty planning, the big brute forgot to continue listening to his new leader's monologue.

...something about execution... That's right, nothing but execution for anyone who stands in our way ...fifteen percent... a solid cut there! ...a horse for every man... Now wait a minute there... A few more beads of sweat – on top of the virtual rivers already there from exertion and heat – formed on his head. Partly because of his size and partly because of his lack of resources, Mordrag had never learned to ride a horse. The only time he had ever even mounted one was decades ago when a large, adolescent Mordrag had been bucked off of a wily stallion within seconds of his mounting. The broken arm had kept him away from any equestrian activities for a year and the memories of the incident for the rest of his life. Not one to admit his weaknesses, however, this was a problem the big man would deal with later and as discretely as he could manage. Perhaps he would use the horse as a pack animal and simply sprint alongside the others on his own two legs. No... something else would have to give.

A medium sized purse bounced off of his chest and into his lap. The sweet, familiar clinking sound of a small fortune. Eyes wide, and ears perked, Mordrag tuned back in to Rask's orders. "You got five hundred gold for each of you. A signing on bonus so to speak. Make sure you have some warm clothes and a week's rations for the trip. Anything left is pocket money. Enjoy."

And enjoy he would.

____________________________________________________________________________

Sitting on his comfortable bed, piled high with furs – for the ladies of course – Mordrag looked over the supplies he had gathered in the past few hours. His collection of obscure trifles and trinkets was all stowed away. Thanks to the ever-generous Arbo Horst, the two large bottles of triple distilled whiskey and four sizable bags of lamb jerky had only knocked eighty gold pieces off of his budget. His buddy Jonas Ollen was convinced to part with his oversized – so just right for Mordrag – black bear pelt cloak for just another one hundred. Mordrag was no stranger to the cold temperatures of the highlands. He knew that, no matter how warm the whiskey in your belly made you, the winter wind could take a finger or toe overnight. Jarren Bisevak the furrier specialized in sable furs, so Mordrag had known he wouldn't be cheap; a pair of fitted gloves and boots deducted another hundred out of his purse – but for good reason. Sable was known as the golden fleece of furs, being almost weightless, silky, lustrous, and beautiful without sacrificing any warmth or durability. When he packed his fur sheets and blankets later that night, he would be fully confident in keeping himself warmed.

That still left him with over two hundred gold pieces to, as Rask had instructed, enjoy! He snatched up the now half-empty purse, stomped down the stairs and began making his way out of The Golden Spring. Before he could make it halfway to the door, he was stopped by a reprimanding voice he had become all too accustomed to.

“Oh no ya don't, ya big bloody fool. I already taked a peak at yer packings and ya didn't get any medicine. Not to mention the fact that yell not be drinkin nothin but whiskey the whole trip!” Horst was like the nagging mother Mordrag never knew. “Yer gonna take these bandagings and whatnot and at least two jugs of water.” Mordrag looked skeptical, but started reaching for his purse. “Nah, nah. I'll not spoil your last night of fun for practicality, ye child. Yell pay me back double with yer spoils from adventurin no doubt. For now, get yer freeloadin arse out of my tavern.”

Mordrag smiled and punched Arbo in his shoulder. Love you too mate.

____________________________________________________________________________

Now for the remainder of his purse. The big barbarian wasn't one for keeping around excess money. He strolled along the memorized path, past The Sailor's Beans and Barrel, left before the Bisevak fur shop. It was an absurdly colorful, three story building, well maintained compared with the rest of the run down establishments in the Hollows. Mordrag walked up the pink steps and through the turquoise doors. There he was greeted by the respected purveyor of her fine luxuries, Madame Merida. The two exchanged pleasantries, already well-acquainted with each other, before Merida took him by the arm and led him to the main lobby where half a dozen patrons were already drinking and flirting.

Two women in Madame Merida's Comfort Parlour were famed both for their powerful allure and for their outrageous prices: Jenessa, a fair-skinned blonde beauty, and Isolde, a red headed minx. Mordrag had approached both numerous times during his stay in Gothic-Maxima, only to be redirected to women more within his budget. The two were sitting alone at a table in the corner of the room, chittering and giggling, waiting for the next lordling or exceptionally successful merchant to enter their nest. Mordrag didn't quite fit that mould.

Jenessa and Isolde ignored the boisterous man as they usually did, but the big Gothi pulled a chair from a nearby table and dropped his girth down next to the ladies, ending their dainty tittering. Though he was met with disapproving scowls, Mordrag would not be deterred; “Seeing as I'm going on an adventure tomorrow ladies, tonight might be our last chance at love.”

“You've not got the coin for lavish magnificence like me or the sumptuous splendor of my companion, Brute.” Jenessa spoke with the posh, pompous cadence of one who has purchased their class and wants everyone to be aware of their sophistication. The notably quieter Isolde merely smirked, teasing Mordrag with a seductive stretch. When Mordrag spilled two hundred and seventy gold coins – the remnants of his signing bonus and all of the gold he had leftover from his bouncing at The Golden Spring – onto the table, two pairs of eyes caked with makeup shot wide open in incredulity. Immediately, the ladies changed their tone. The gold disappeared somewhere in the folds of their dresses, and the huge man was escorted upstairs, one woman hanging on either arm. The trio made haste, only stopping long enough for Isolde to grab a bottle of fine wine – complementary for the big spender, of course.

Tverios: The Conquest

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Aksel Dehli had taken to counting the droplets of water leaking through a crack in his low stone ceiling, dimly refracting the low torchlight before splashing down into the slowly growing puddle. Hundreds of thousands of identical droplets had accumulated in that same depression in the uneven dungeon floor. In his oppressively damp cell, Aksel could only imagine that it was a similar buildup of moisture in his own lungs inducing his worsening cough.

It had been sixteen days – or around that time. With no natural light anywhere to be seen in the dungeon corridor his cell was located in, the only way for the young man to understand the passage of time was by counting his meals, served roughly once a day. Sixteen days since he had arrived in Tolos, looking to escape those pursuing him. Sixteen days since his mother was murdered in front of his eyes, him left in the street with lifeblood leaking out of multiple wounds.

He was rescued out of that predicament; rescued right into this new one. He would survive his wounds, for his new captors had stopped the bleeding, stitched and wrapped him tight. His dirty fingers went to his red stained bandages. He traced the pattern. Just under his left shoulder to a shallow one that led to his second lowest rib. Across his chest and up to the right side of his collarbone. He didn't need to look at his back to know that the one there was the deepest. Recollection of each day in this dungeon blended into the next, but the sixteen day old memory was burned into his mind with searing clarity.

It all doesn't seem real.

He had been betrayed by the elven nobility in Tolos the same way his grandfather had been. Worse, it was his own brothers, fellow monks of the Tolosi Pantheon, that had given him up to his persecutors. Was it because three parts out of his four were human? Just elf enough to tend the faith but not enough to be an actual brother. He could never fit just right despite his lifelong dedication to the Pantheon, prayers offered daily to gods of order, justice, storms, harvest, seas, poetry and everything else whether it pertained to his own life or not. Yes, he was selfless and humble; he had to be. Arrogance was born of privilege, and privilege he had not.

Deep within his own world, Aksel didn't hear the approaching footsteps until they were near outside his cell. That would be daily bowl of pap. Every day, the clattering of a half full tin bowl brought him out of his introspection. Boiled water, grease and oils and everything too rough to even make it into the sausages. The first two days he was unable to keep it down. Bland enough but with stomach turning textures. After kicking the contents of his stomach to the side of his cell for a second time, he took a different approach for the third day. He picked out the bits of bone and chewed out the marrow – just like pig ribs when he was a kid, right? Tossed the teeth and cartilage in the waste bucket and slowly sipped the broth. The young monk would never look at his captors. It was some sort of pride not to play the dog, whimpering with wide eyes bleeding to his master. Aksel wasn't a proud man. He wasn't trying to prove anything, but he was indeed strong. He would keep his sanity and his humanity. A lifetime of experience steeling himself against degradation lie with him in that cell.

He stared at his bare feet, at the mud and grime underneath his overgrown toenails. The calluses were just starting to form from hours of anxious pacing over the first five days. With soles bloody and raw, Aksel soon learned to indeed keep the blood pumping through his legs, but only in small increments at a time. His eyes shifted from his feet to the stone floor, following the cracks spanning to either side. They darted up at the receding sound of footsteps walking away from his cell. No clatter?

No food?

The usual spot – just outside the cage door, close enough for the prisoner to reach and replace with an empty bowl later – contained no bowl. In its place was a small bundle of oddly pristine cloth. Out of habit or of suspicion, Aksel crawled over to the door and reached between the same two bars to the same spot. He pulled in the bundle and unraveled the meticulously folded material. Inside was simple white stone ring and a small note.

It read: “Your key out. We will find you at The Lucky Mummer. - T, J”

How would this ring serve as a key? And who were these people writing the message. What did they want with Aksel? Why were they sending him to an obscure bar on the edges of Tolos? A million questions bounced around his young, blonde head as he slipped the white ring onto his hand. It was too large to fit on either or the appropriate fingers, so Aksel selected his right middle finger to house his possibly saving grace. He stood up, studying his cell's door for any indent that matched the face of the ring – two curved arrows, one twice as large as the other. He tried to fit the ring into every crevice he could find in the entire cell. Nothing seemed to match. It was a terrible fit to the door's keyhole, the only thing he thought would make sense.

He didn't understand. This must be just a trick, something to give him a small glimmer of hope before sending him crashing back down to the reality of his grimy cell with its leaky roof and gruesome food. Aksel slammed the ring into the cell door in frustration. Out of nowhere, a shockwave ripped through the air and launched the young man across the cell to crash into the opposing wall. Aksel's ears were ringing, and he seemed to be hallucinating. It almost looked like the barred door was blown completely out of its frame. No, he wasn't seeing things; the punch from the ring had not only opened the door to freedom, it had virtually bent it in half. Bewildered, the monk slowly rose to his feet, his wide eyes never leaving the mysterious stone ring.

Voices rang through the corridors, and Aksel knew his time was fast shortening. The guards would be at his cell soon. The only blessing afforded him in the moment was the fact that the layout of the hallways amplified echoes throughout the entire dungeon. He knew that this would only confuse the guards for so long, so he took off running, the adrenaline coursing through his body nearly allowing him to forget his still-wounded feet.

He ran blindly through the narrow passageways, turning any direction that felt right, making sure that these turns took him away from the sound of voices behind him. Heart beating, he knew that his luck had to run out soon, but as soon as that thought crossed his mind, He saw the distinctive glow of natural light.

Splitting pain erupted in his entire arm, and Aksel thought that he might have broken his hand. No shockwave had come this time, just an ordinary punch.

What is going on with this ring? Was that first time just a coincidence or did I do something wrong this time?

Ironically, the door was already unlocked, and Aksel's punch served to swing it wide open. The room was empty except for a desk with a finely crafted, steel guard's dagger splayed over an unfinished letter to one of the guard's wives. The young man stashed the dagger in his ragged tunic. He climbed up onto the windowsill and looked out, seeing that he was three stories up but with large bushes directly underneath his perch. Muttering a quick prayer to the Tolosi god of birds and all creatures flying, Aksel Dehli dropped out of his jail and into the afternoon daylight.

______________________________________________________________

With no further incidents, Aksel arrived at the tavern known as The Lucky Mummer. He looked around, self-conscience about his comically ragged appearance. Luckily, word had not reached the city proper of an escaped prisoner. Before he took more than half a dozen steps into the establishment, however, he was grabbed by arms that seemed too large to belong to a human. He was carried up a flight of stairs and bundled into private room. The large man sat him down in a chair and pulled out the dagger hidden in Aksel's tunic. In front of him sat two men, indistinguishable save for a minor height difference.

The taller man dropped a large purse heavily on the table, the familiar clinking of coins resonating in Aksel's ears.

“You have languished under political oppression for far too long, Master Avalusk,” began the shorter man.

Avalusk!? How could they possibly know? Who were these people?

“Our witless Prophet has tolerated foolishness for far too long. It is time for a new Tolos to be born, and in the wake of its impending rise, an entire new world. Find a doctor for your afflictions and purchase what supplies you need before departing the city. And do make haste. Oromis has returned to our earthly plane, and you are going to aid him in his conquest. We will be in contact.” With those few, short sentences, the meeting was over. The brute of a man once again took Aksel up into his massive arms and tossed him out of the private room, followed by the dagger. With no other options available and nobody else to turn to, the young monk set about following his orders.

Tverios: The Conquest

Thanks there! I've really enjoyed what I've read from you all so far!

About my post: the two men are going to turn out to be certain, well-connected people on the inside of Talos who support Oromis's impending conquest. If anybody has any ideas or any need for those sort of people, let me know!

Tverios: The Conquest

Aksel Dehli

Name: Brother Aksel Dehli

Nationality: ¾ Tolosi Human, ¼ Tolosi Elf

Occupation: Monk of the Tolosi Pantheon

Religion: Tolosi Pantheon

Appearance and Personality: Aksel is a good looking young man with fine blonde hair and gentle, elegant facial features. Being of mixed heritage, Aksel has an exotic look, ears slightly pointed and eyes a fusion sharp blues and greens. He is lean but not lanky, standing just under six feet tall. Though not especially muscular, Aksel's body is athletic and capable.

Aksel is a kind man with a strong conscience. His dominating emotions are humility and faithfulness. Loyalty has never been a problem for him, and, although not much of a brawler, he has always made himself known in any fight to protect the ones he loves. He feels love passionately, and the heavy personal loss he has experienced has taught him to value everything in his life presently. Aksel devotes himself to his every endeavor wholeheartedly from his dedication to the Tolosi Pantheon to his determination in mastering the fishing rod. He is kind if not charismatic, not born to lead, but valuable by anyone's side.

Biography: Albin Avalusk was an elven nobleman, well connected and respected across the entire Empire of Tolos, but especially in his home in Bucephal. Never did Albin appear to put a single foot wrong, and, as it always seems to do, suspicion and malice began to grow out of Albin's envious peers. Soon, efforts were made to uncover any bit of indiscretion from Albin's past or present. It was one such indiscretion that uncovered the powerful elf's one flaw, that of the heart. Albin Avalusk lost everything he had painstakingly built his entire life once his relationship with a certain human woman was made public. Instead of giving up his heart's desire to save his livelihood, Albin absconded to the Kingdom of the Nerwains with his new wife, Britta. Albin and Britta were able to build a new life for themselves – a simpler one. They even gave birth to a lovely daughter, Ina. Living in this sparsely populated new land amongst hardy foresters and herders, the family of three – now living under the surname Dehli – the family took care not to make any new enemies; however, discrimination followed them here as well.

The Nerwains were an ordinary folk, accustomed to their normal lives and uncomfortable with change. A new family consisting of an elf and a half constituted change. The family's house was stormed, the parents slain and the adolescent daughter despoiled. Ina Dehli was left to die amongst her parents corpses, but under the veil of death, new life was forged. Ina took pregnant, birthing a son, Aksel. Aksel was raised as a healthy child, understanding the implications of his mixed heritage and respecting the elven culture of his grandfather. So enamored was he with his elven blood, Aksel decided to relocate back to the the Empire of Tolos and dedicate his life to the Tolosi pantheon. He was Brother Aksel Dehli, an unassuming, humble man whose faith was strong despite his genetic limitations – the human in him.

Though once again, the Avalusks looked to recreate themselves and live in peace, their past followed them. Aksel was honest about his past only to his brothers, but his faith in them was not returned. News reached the very same members of the elven aristocracy – now old and living fat on their lifetime of luxury – that had conspired to drive Albin and Britta out of Bucephal. Fearing retribution from their returned son, the nobles moved to eliminate the last of the Avalusk family. Aksel and his mother were assaulted in the streets in plain daylight. Assassins murdered Ina before her son's eyes, and not a single passerby stopped to help. Unable to do anything to protect his mother, it was all that Aksel could do to flee back to Etruscia. Yet unable to escape his elven persecutors, Aksel arrived in Tolos to find that they had preceded him. Tolosi attackers stabbed him and left him to die in the streets. Before he could bleed out, however, Askel was arrested and thrown into a jail in the Holy Quarter. Wounded, struck by the reality of his loss, the young monk sits in the dungeon, unaware of the workings behind the scenes, powerful allies presently unknown.

Magical Artefact(s): [not yet in possession] A stone ring, shaped from a Sila Stone, with the ability to power in any form – from heat to electricity to physical force – and release it twofold upon impact.

Motivation: Looking to sort through his disillusionment with his Tolosi religion and mixed heritage. Trying to find his place in the world as a mutt, an undesired by both humans and elves.

Kohl Walesa

Name: Sir Kohl Walesa

Nationality: Etruscan Human

Occupation: Knight-Captain of the Zantyric Order

Religion: Etruscian

Appearance and Personality: Kohl has pale skin and sunken, sallow eyes the color of charcoal. He has high cheekbones and a pointy chin and nose. Though not extremely attractive by any means, an air of wealth and fine breeding clings to him like musky perfume on a whore. He keeps his umber colored hair long but pulled tight into a bun. From years of stern training, Kohl's tall body is covered in lean, corded muscles.

Kohl is pompous and arrogant, and he respects nothing but power and wealth. He can be rude, but is mainly tactful. When harm is meant, however, the knight makes is clear, his mastery of language only thinly veiling insult. Though it makes him few friends, Kohl's confidence and competence produces many allies. He is a devout Etruscan, often seen praying and worshipping.

Biography: Raised in a wealthy family wholly obsessed with maintaining the purity and power of their bloodline, Kohl has known privilege his entire life. He is not a racist, but surely an elitist. It was not hatred of elves that drove him into the Zantyric Order, but his confidence and total belief in his superiority over the long eared enemy elevated him quickly in the knights' ranks.

He is young still, but, thanks in part to his proficiency with the sword and lance, and mainly due to to his and his father's proficiency with politicking, Kohl rose to the rank of Knight-Captain over a few more experienced and expected. Throughout his entire life, nothing has ever hinted to Kohl or his family that there was any possible thing standing between him and his goal of eventually becoming the Grandmaster to finally stamp out the Tolosi Empire and its false Pantheon.

Magical Artefact(s): None

Motivation: Driven by his zealous righteousness to win the Holy War against the Tolosi Empire.

Rask's Broken Horn Band

I enjoyed everyone's battles! It's cool that they all went differently

Tverios: The Conquest

Sorry this is a day late, but I just wanted to make sure at least one of these guys would work!

I could have Aksel escaping (obtaining his silas ring in the process) with the first post and fleeing the city to meet up with the characters - seemingly an escaped Mardochian propagandist.

Aksel Dehli

Name: Brother Aksel Dehli

Nationality: ¾ Tolosi Human, ¼ Tolosi Elf

Occupation: Monk of the Tolosi Pantheon

Religion: Tolosi Pantheon

Appearance and Personality: Aksel is a good looking young man with fine blonde hair and gentle, elegant facial features. Being of mixed heritage, Aksel has an exotic look, ears slightly pointed and eyes a fusion sharp blues and greens. He is lean but not lanky, standing just under six feet tall. Though not especially muscular, Aksel's body is athletic and capable.

Aksel is a kind man with a strong conscience. His dominating emotions are humility and faithfulness. Loyalty has never been a problem for him, and, although not much of a brawler, he has always made himself known in any fight to protect the ones he loves. He feels love passionately, and the heavy personal loss he has experienced has taught him to value everything in his life presently. Aksel devotes himself to his every endeavor wholeheartedly from his dedication to the Tolosi Pantheon to his determination in mastering the fishing rod. He is kind if not charismatic, not born to lead, but valuable by anyone's side.

Biography: Albin Avalusk was an elven nobleman, well connected and respected across the entire Empire of Tolos, but especially in his home in Bucephal. Never did Albin appear to put a single foot wrong, and, as it always seems to do, suspicion and malice began to grow out of Albin's envious peers. Soon, efforts were made to uncover any bit of indiscretion from Albin's past or present. It was one such indiscretion that uncovered the powerful elf's one flaw, that of the heart. Albin Avalusk lost everything he had painstakingly built his entire life once his relationship with a certain human woman was made public. Instead of giving up his heart's desire to save his livelihood, Albin absconded to the Kingdom of the Nerwains with his new wife, Britta. Albin and Britta were able to build a new life for themselves – a simpler one. They even gave birth to a lovely daughter, Ina. Living in this sparsely populated new land amongst hardy foresters and herders, the family of three – now living under the surname Dehli – the family took care not to make any new enemies; however, discrimination followed them here as well.

The Nerwains were an ordinary folk, accustomed to their normal lives and uncomfortable with change. A new family consisting of an elf and a half constituted change. The family's house was stormed, the parents slain and the adolescent daughter despoiled. Ina Dehli was left to die amongst her parents corpses, but under the veil of death, new life was forged. Ina took pregnant, birthing a son, Aksel. Aksel was raised as a healthy child, understanding the implications of his mixed heritage and respecting the elven culture of his grandfather. So enamored was he with his elven blood, Aksel decided to relocate back to the the Empire of Tolos and dedicate his life to the Tolosi pantheon. He was Brother Aksel Dehli, an unassuming, humble man whose faith was strong despite his genetic limitations – the human in him.

Though once again, the Avalusks looked to recreate themselves and live in peace, their past followed them. Aksel was honest about his past only to his brothers, but his faith in them was not returned. News reached the very same members of the elven aristocracy – now old and living fat on their lifetime of luxury – that had conspired to drive Albin and Britta out of Bucephal. Fearing retribution from their returned son, the nobles moved to eliminate the last of the Avalusk family. Aksel and his mother were assaulted in the streets in plain daylight. Assassins murdered Ina before her son's eyes, and not a single passerby stopped to help. Unable to do anything to protect his mother, it was all that Aksel could do to flee back to Etruscia. Yet unable to escape his elven persecutors, Aksel arrived in Tolos to find that they had preceded him. Tolosi attackers stabbed him and left him to die in the streets. Before he could bleed out, however, Askel was arrested and thrown into a jail in the Holy Quarter. Wounded, struck by the reality of his loss, the young monk sits in the dungeon, unaware of the workings behind the scenes, powerful allies presently unknown.

Magical Artefact(s): [not yet in possession] A stone ring, shaped from a Sila Stone, with the ability to power in any form – from heat to electricity to physical force – and release it twofold upon impact.

Motivation: Looking to sort through his disillusionment with his Tolosi religion and mixed heritage. Trying to find his place in the world as a mutt, an undesired by both humans and elves.

Alternatively, I wasn't sure how the Zantyric Order would be getting involved. Perhaps an enemy in the war with Tolos and the Etruscan league but an ally when it comes to crushing the Tolosi Emprie? Or maybe a traitor to the Estruscan league (Kohl is a shady sort)

Kohl Walesa

Name: Sir Kohl Walesa

Nationality: Etruscan Human

Occupation: Knight-Captain of the Zantyric Order

Religion: Etruscian

Appearance and Personality: Kohl has pale skin and sunken, sallow eyes the color of charcoal. He has high cheekbones and a pointy chin and nose. Though not extremely attractive by any means, an air of wealth and fine breeding clings to him like musky perfume on a whore. He keeps his umber colored hair long but pulled tight into a bun. From years of stern training, Kohl's tall body is covered in lean, corded muscles.

Kohl is pompous and arrogant, and he respects nothing but power and wealth. He can be rude, but is mainly tactful. When harm is meant, however, the knight makes is clear, his mastery of language only thinly veiling insult. Though it makes him few friends, Kohl's confidence and competence produces many allies. He is a devout Etruscan, often seen praying and worshipping.

Biography: Raised in a wealthy family wholly obsessed with maintaining the purity and power of their bloodline, Kohl has known privilege his entire life. He is not a racist, but surely an elitist. It was not hatred of elves that drove him into the Zantyric Order, but his confidence and total belief in his superiority over the long eared enemy elevated him quickly in the knights' ranks.

He is young still, but, thanks in part to his proficiency with the sword and lance, and mainly due to to his and his father's proficiency with politicking, Kohl rose to the rank of Knight-Captain over a few more experienced and expected. Throughout his entire life, nothing has ever hinted to Kohl or his family that there was any possible thing standing between him and his goal of eventually becoming the Grandmaster to finally stamp out the Tolosi Empire and its false Pantheon.

Magical Artefact(s): None

Motivation: Driven by his zealous righteousness to win the Holy War against the Tolosi Empire.

Rask's Broken Horn Band

Well...that was intense.

@Blackwidow

I know! Shame it got out of hand like that. Totally unexpected ;)

Allaria Ch. 4: Rescue and Escape

Glad you like it. is this you expressing interest?

also, if you guys have any questions, feel free to ask. I'm off today, but work from 7-4 tomorrow, EST.

@Rilla

Could we also please get a bit more info on the characters and NPCs of the past RPs in this world?

Allaria Ch. 4: Rescue and Escape

Looks interesting!