Player Characters:
Teofish
Jec94227
Corndawg
Paronomasia12
Bound Sentinel
Teofish
Name: Thraińn Jàrnhand
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Faction of Birth: Nord/Sea Raider.
Allegiance: Whoever pays best.
Appearance:
1.93 cm tall. Blue/grey eyes. Broad, muscular build with a slight swagger to his walk due to lots of time spent on ships. Dark red hair falling below his shoulders with braids keeping it out of his face. Thick beard with braided mustaches and a thick braid from the chin. Deep booming voice. Thick scar across his right eye trailing down to the corner of his mouth giving him a permanent sneer. Body odor distinguishable from five meters away, upwind.
Personality / Skills:
Seems cold and harsh to those who do not know him. But can open up somewhat, and be a right jolly drinking companion once he's got a few mugs in him. Ruthless, uncompromising and fearless in battle, but with a keen tactical mind behind his savagery. Loves drinking and wenching. But not as much as he loves combat and warfare. Has a strict moral code, if somewhat different from the more civilized folk's codes of chivalry. And will not, contrary to most other sea raiders, tolerate rape of any kind or the mistreatment of children from either his own men or others' on pain of swift and brutal death. Thraińn is unfailingly loyal, and uncharacteristically caring towards those few he accepts as his "blood-brothers/sisters", but he has no sense of loyalty to any liege or nation beyond payment. He hates Sarranids, and most Vaegirs.
Biography:
Thraińn was born the middle son of a sea raider chieftain. He grew up on his father's ship, and in their many camps along the northern Calradian coast. There he learned the arts of the sword, the shield, axes of all kinds and the many throwing weapons his people utilized in the narrow spaces of ship-to-ship and boarding action combat. But also learned some semblance of compassion and sense of honour from his mother, the kidnapped daughter of a Nordic Jarl. He also quickly, through necessity, mastered the arts of sailing, navigation, prisoner management, reading natural signs to predict the weather and how to lead, and inspire men to loyalty both in battle and out.
Even as a young lad he reveled in the thrill of combat. Winning much honour amongst his kin by slaying his three years older cousin in a duel of honour at the age of thirteen. This is when he was first given the surname Jàrnhand. Meaning Iron-hand, as he had cleft his adversary's skull down the middle clean through down to the spine.
When his father was slain in battle on a raid against a Vaegir merchant convoy five years later he swiftly took command of his father's clan by killing his two older brothers. He spent many good years raiding along the coasts. Sailing even as far as the western coast of the Sarranid sultanate. He also learned to speak the tongues of the other cultures of Calradia. Though with a strong Nordic accent, and not particularly eloquently.
Yet his luck ran out eventually. And his ship was wrecked in a storm off the cliffs of Yalen. Only Thraińn and a few of his clansmen managed to get ashore. And after spending the last of what coin they had between them recuperating in a tavern, decided to put their skills to the best possible use in order to keep fed. They hired themselves out as mercenaries in service to a Rhodok count who knew well the usefulness of the northerners' savagery in battle. They served in several campaigns against both Swadia and the Sarranids. And built up a good reputation as brutally efficient shock infantry, and excellent raiders of enemy villages and caravans. His company eventually also attracted other expatriate Nords who swelled their ranks as well as a small number of Rhodok crossbowmen, as Thraińn saw the prudence in exploiting their formidable efficiency against the armoured cavalry employed by many other Calradian countries. His company, "the Greyfells", are easily distinguishable on the battlefield due to the wolf skin cloaks that they all wear. And each man swears a blood oath of loyalty to Thraińn and his liutenants.
Party:
The Greyfells mercenary company:
- Harald Eikbògi. Companion. Archer.
- 38 hardy and experienced sea raiders from original crew (Heavy shock infantry).
- 64 expatriate Nord warriors (Heavy infantry).
- 43 ranged infantry. Composition of Nordic longbowmen, hunters and mercenary Rhodok crossbowmen.
Equipment:
Worn (clothing/armour):
- Mail Byrnie
- Thick Leather Boots lined with fur
- Hardened Leather Gauntlets lined with fur
- Nordic Helmet
- Thick Wolf Fur Cloak.
Weapons (melee and shield):
- Nordic War Sword
- Nordic War Axe
- Heavy Round Shield
- Heavy Two Handed War Axe.
Weapons (ranged):
- Light Throwing Axes
- Heavy Throwing/Stabbing Spear.
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Faction of Birth: Nord/Sea Raider.
Allegiance: Whoever pays best.
Appearance:
1.93 cm tall. Blue/grey eyes. Broad, muscular build with a slight swagger to his walk due to lots of time spent on ships. Dark red hair falling below his shoulders with braids keeping it out of his face. Thick beard with braided mustaches and a thick braid from the chin. Deep booming voice. Thick scar across his right eye trailing down to the corner of his mouth giving him a permanent sneer. Body odor distinguishable from five meters away, upwind.
Personality / Skills:
Seems cold and harsh to those who do not know him. But can open up somewhat, and be a right jolly drinking companion once he's got a few mugs in him. Ruthless, uncompromising and fearless in battle, but with a keen tactical mind behind his savagery. Loves drinking and wenching. But not as much as he loves combat and warfare. Has a strict moral code, if somewhat different from the more civilized folk's codes of chivalry. And will not, contrary to most other sea raiders, tolerate rape of any kind or the mistreatment of children from either his own men or others' on pain of swift and brutal death. Thraińn is unfailingly loyal, and uncharacteristically caring towards those few he accepts as his "blood-brothers/sisters", but he has no sense of loyalty to any liege or nation beyond payment. He hates Sarranids, and most Vaegirs.
Biography:
Thraińn was born the middle son of a sea raider chieftain. He grew up on his father's ship, and in their many camps along the northern Calradian coast. There he learned the arts of the sword, the shield, axes of all kinds and the many throwing weapons his people utilized in the narrow spaces of ship-to-ship and boarding action combat. But also learned some semblance of compassion and sense of honour from his mother, the kidnapped daughter of a Nordic Jarl. He also quickly, through necessity, mastered the arts of sailing, navigation, prisoner management, reading natural signs to predict the weather and how to lead, and inspire men to loyalty both in battle and out.
Even as a young lad he reveled in the thrill of combat. Winning much honour amongst his kin by slaying his three years older cousin in a duel of honour at the age of thirteen. This is when he was first given the surname Jàrnhand. Meaning Iron-hand, as he had cleft his adversary's skull down the middle clean through down to the spine.
When his father was slain in battle on a raid against a Vaegir merchant convoy five years later he swiftly took command of his father's clan by killing his two older brothers. He spent many good years raiding along the coasts. Sailing even as far as the western coast of the Sarranid sultanate. He also learned to speak the tongues of the other cultures of Calradia. Though with a strong Nordic accent, and not particularly eloquently.
Yet his luck ran out eventually. And his ship was wrecked in a storm off the cliffs of Yalen. Only Thraińn and a few of his clansmen managed to get ashore. And after spending the last of what coin they had between them recuperating in a tavern, decided to put their skills to the best possible use in order to keep fed. They hired themselves out as mercenaries in service to a Rhodok count who knew well the usefulness of the northerners' savagery in battle. They served in several campaigns against both Swadia and the Sarranids. And built up a good reputation as brutally efficient shock infantry, and excellent raiders of enemy villages and caravans. His company eventually also attracted other expatriate Nords who swelled their ranks as well as a small number of Rhodok crossbowmen, as Thraińn saw the prudence in exploiting their formidable efficiency against the armoured cavalry employed by many other Calradian countries. His company, "the Greyfells", are easily distinguishable on the battlefield due to the wolf skin cloaks that they all wear. And each man swears a blood oath of loyalty to Thraińn and his liutenants.
Party:
The Greyfells mercenary company:
- Harald Eikbògi. Companion. Archer.
- 38 hardy and experienced sea raiders from original crew (Heavy shock infantry).
- 64 expatriate Nord warriors (Heavy infantry).
- 43 ranged infantry. Composition of Nordic longbowmen, hunters and mercenary Rhodok crossbowmen.
Equipment:
Worn (clothing/armour):
- Mail Byrnie
- Thick Leather Boots lined with fur
- Hardened Leather Gauntlets lined with fur
- Nordic Helmet
- Thick Wolf Fur Cloak.
Weapons (melee and shield):
- Nordic War Sword
- Nordic War Axe
- Heavy Round Shield
- Heavy Two Handed War Axe.
Weapons (ranged):
- Light Throwing Axes
- Heavy Throwing/Stabbing Spear.
Jec94227
Name: Dietrich
Gender: Male
Age: 21
Faction of Birth: Swadia
Allegiance: Currently looking for work
Appearance:
Dietrich is of average height, well built due to his occupation. His hair is dark red and shoulder length. He keeps it raggedly cut due to lack of both skill and scissors, having to use a knife. He shaves whenever he gets the chance, though it isn't as often as he likes, often leaving him with several days of stubbly growth.
His nose is slightly crooked, and there is an oddly shaped scar on his cheek. Both were gained in a barroom brawl one night in Sargoth, the nose from the fist of a sailor and the scar from the ring on the mans other hand.
Personality / Skills:
Dietrich is a newly chosen leader of a much reduced company of Light Cavalry. While a good trooper and possessing a basic grasp of leadership qualities, he is still very new to the role of Captain. Naturally he is going to be very nervous and cautious about losing too many of his men or even his command.
Generally though he is quite rash, quick to take offense at slights or insults. Typical of young men he has an odd belief that he is invincible. Only the recent battle has shaken him enough that he will begin making an effort to think twice before rushing in.
Biography:
Dietrich is the fourth son of a bailiff of a minor farm estate near Suno. Growing up, he and his brothers assisted their father in the day to day running of the estate, helping with all the menial labor jobs that needed to be done. Dietrich chafed under this, especially as the youngest, as his brothers would force him into the tasks they disliked, such as mucking out the small stable or chasing birds from the fields. Hated though it was, he did learn a handful of useful skills, like how to read write and ride.
He left as soon as he could, at age seventeen. He immediately went to Suno, having been to the city only once. He quickly ran out of money, and after spending the last of it on a bit of advice from the bartender, himself an old adventurer, he sought out the merchant quarter. Instead of knocking on the door to the merchant's home however, he went to a shabbier looking building. It was here that he entered the service of a mercenary company who hired themselves out to guard caravans.
For three years he worked with this company, criss-crossing Calradia. It was not a bad way of living, though it proved to be very boring. Most bandits would try and threaten or bluff their way into getting a road tax or some of the goods, and the guards would posture and bluff right back. There was perhaps three fights in that time, and two were against desperate refugees turned bandits while the third was against a rival caravan. In order to pass the time while on the road many of the men took to gambling, using a stash of throwing knives as both the means and the prize. A board would be tossed in the air and whoever got a knife closest to the center before it hit the ground took all that were thrown. This led to more good spirited competition, and none of the problems that arise when men owe each other money.
Good as it was, the life ended rather abruptly. The head of the company died, not in battle but simply by falling down the stairs of a tavern. The man's son, a bit of a glory hound and much disliked, immediately announced that the company was out of the caravan business. Going east to the border with the Khergits, the company was put into the service as border guards, responsible for catching raiders and carrying out counter raids whenever Count Haringoth deemed the neighbors were getting too full of themselves.
For one year, the company did this job. They became very good, and grew in size as the success of the 'Crimson Hearts' became more and more well known. Dietrich found that it was a very different life than watching the trees and hills for the odd bandit. Instead of the posturing used by the desperate bandits, the raiders were led either by experienced riders and warriors, or young nobles eager to prove themselves. Fights often broke out and Dietrich quickly learned the proper way of using his sword, spear and shield, all while riding.
When war was declared, not much changed. The raids continued, except now they acted as "scouts" or "auxileries" instead of "riders of dubious legality". So they were paid in coin, instead of loot and the freedom of roaming the country in a deadly cat and mouse with the local lords was replaced with traveling with a horde several hundred strong who stripped the countryside bare in an attempt to feed itself. Still, it wasn't so bad, and there were few major engagements. Worse was when the army camped for the night, and in the morning at least one of the sentries was dead and arrows had been shot into the middle of camp.
The company met its end during an incursion into the Khergit countryside. At first, everything went well. A village was torched, a pair of caravans looted. Standard raider stuff, like they had done before. The success made them cocky, and one day they failed to send out the outriders and scou their advance. Before they knew it, the Khergit Lancers were among them, ripping into the marching column while the horse archers appeared on both ends of the column.
In the chaos, Dietrich managed to rally about forty odd horsemen around him, mostly his fellow light cavalrymen but at least three knights were among them. With this group following him, he led a desperate charge at the horse archers, who simply fell back and continued shooting at them, expecting the cavalry to engage them. Instead, they kept on riding.
Hours later, they neared Rindyar castle, to their shock flying Khergit banners. The Knights left for Dhirim, hoping to find their liege lord there. Several of the surviving mercenary's chose to leave as well, while those who remained remebered Dietrich had led them from the deathtrap of the battle, and elected/forced him into the position of Captain. Asking some of the villagers they found hiding, they learned of the the main Khergit advance on the Dhirim Plateau. With this information, Dietrich decided to lead his men northwest, along the Vaegir Borderlands, and from there loop back to Dhirim, avoiding the army.
Through a mixture of luck and skill, The Bannerless have managed to get to Dhirim, in time to see the relieving army drive the Khergits away from the walls and push them back off the Plateau. Finding employment once again in the Swadian Army, the Bannerless are again employed as scouts and outriders, keeping an eye out for enemy patrols doing the same thing as the King gathers his forces to try and retake the lost land.
Party:
"The Bannerless"
- 20 Mercenary Cavalry
- Armour: Kettle Helm, Mail Coat, leather boots and gloves.
- Weapons: All are equipped with a spear and cavalry shield. Secondary weapons range from swords to maces to axes based on personal preference. A handful have javelins and all of them have a few daggers that can be thrown.
- Mounts range from Hunters to Coursers depending on preference and what they could buy with their loot.
Equipment:
Worn (clothing/armor) :
- Mail Coat
- Gambeson
- Kettle Helm
- Khergit Leather Boots
- Leather Gloves
- Mount is a Stubborn Hunter named Goddamn. He had a different name before Dietrich bought him but Goddamn is what he is most often called.
Weapons (melee and shield)
- Spear
- Cavalry Shield
- Fine Arming Sword
Weapons (ranged) :
- Throwing Dagger (3)
Gender: Male
Age: 21
Faction of Birth: Swadia
Allegiance: Currently looking for work
Appearance:
Dietrich is of average height, well built due to his occupation. His hair is dark red and shoulder length. He keeps it raggedly cut due to lack of both skill and scissors, having to use a knife. He shaves whenever he gets the chance, though it isn't as often as he likes, often leaving him with several days of stubbly growth.
His nose is slightly crooked, and there is an oddly shaped scar on his cheek. Both were gained in a barroom brawl one night in Sargoth, the nose from the fist of a sailor and the scar from the ring on the mans other hand.
Personality / Skills:
Dietrich is a newly chosen leader of a much reduced company of Light Cavalry. While a good trooper and possessing a basic grasp of leadership qualities, he is still very new to the role of Captain. Naturally he is going to be very nervous and cautious about losing too many of his men or even his command.
Generally though he is quite rash, quick to take offense at slights or insults. Typical of young men he has an odd belief that he is invincible. Only the recent battle has shaken him enough that he will begin making an effort to think twice before rushing in.
Biography:
Dietrich is the fourth son of a bailiff of a minor farm estate near Suno. Growing up, he and his brothers assisted their father in the day to day running of the estate, helping with all the menial labor jobs that needed to be done. Dietrich chafed under this, especially as the youngest, as his brothers would force him into the tasks they disliked, such as mucking out the small stable or chasing birds from the fields. Hated though it was, he did learn a handful of useful skills, like how to read write and ride.
He left as soon as he could, at age seventeen. He immediately went to Suno, having been to the city only once. He quickly ran out of money, and after spending the last of it on a bit of advice from the bartender, himself an old adventurer, he sought out the merchant quarter. Instead of knocking on the door to the merchant's home however, he went to a shabbier looking building. It was here that he entered the service of a mercenary company who hired themselves out to guard caravans.
For three years he worked with this company, criss-crossing Calradia. It was not a bad way of living, though it proved to be very boring. Most bandits would try and threaten or bluff their way into getting a road tax or some of the goods, and the guards would posture and bluff right back. There was perhaps three fights in that time, and two were against desperate refugees turned bandits while the third was against a rival caravan. In order to pass the time while on the road many of the men took to gambling, using a stash of throwing knives as both the means and the prize. A board would be tossed in the air and whoever got a knife closest to the center before it hit the ground took all that were thrown. This led to more good spirited competition, and none of the problems that arise when men owe each other money.
Good as it was, the life ended rather abruptly. The head of the company died, not in battle but simply by falling down the stairs of a tavern. The man's son, a bit of a glory hound and much disliked, immediately announced that the company was out of the caravan business. Going east to the border with the Khergits, the company was put into the service as border guards, responsible for catching raiders and carrying out counter raids whenever Count Haringoth deemed the neighbors were getting too full of themselves.
For one year, the company did this job. They became very good, and grew in size as the success of the 'Crimson Hearts' became more and more well known. Dietrich found that it was a very different life than watching the trees and hills for the odd bandit. Instead of the posturing used by the desperate bandits, the raiders were led either by experienced riders and warriors, or young nobles eager to prove themselves. Fights often broke out and Dietrich quickly learned the proper way of using his sword, spear and shield, all while riding.
When war was declared, not much changed. The raids continued, except now they acted as "scouts" or "auxileries" instead of "riders of dubious legality". So they were paid in coin, instead of loot and the freedom of roaming the country in a deadly cat and mouse with the local lords was replaced with traveling with a horde several hundred strong who stripped the countryside bare in an attempt to feed itself. Still, it wasn't so bad, and there were few major engagements. Worse was when the army camped for the night, and in the morning at least one of the sentries was dead and arrows had been shot into the middle of camp.
The company met its end during an incursion into the Khergit countryside. At first, everything went well. A village was torched, a pair of caravans looted. Standard raider stuff, like they had done before. The success made them cocky, and one day they failed to send out the outriders and scou their advance. Before they knew it, the Khergit Lancers were among them, ripping into the marching column while the horse archers appeared on both ends of the column.
In the chaos, Dietrich managed to rally about forty odd horsemen around him, mostly his fellow light cavalrymen but at least three knights were among them. With this group following him, he led a desperate charge at the horse archers, who simply fell back and continued shooting at them, expecting the cavalry to engage them. Instead, they kept on riding.
Hours later, they neared Rindyar castle, to their shock flying Khergit banners. The Knights left for Dhirim, hoping to find their liege lord there. Several of the surviving mercenary's chose to leave as well, while those who remained remebered Dietrich had led them from the deathtrap of the battle, and elected/forced him into the position of Captain. Asking some of the villagers they found hiding, they learned of the the main Khergit advance on the Dhirim Plateau. With this information, Dietrich decided to lead his men northwest, along the Vaegir Borderlands, and from there loop back to Dhirim, avoiding the army.
Through a mixture of luck and skill, The Bannerless have managed to get to Dhirim, in time to see the relieving army drive the Khergits away from the walls and push them back off the Plateau. Finding employment once again in the Swadian Army, the Bannerless are again employed as scouts and outriders, keeping an eye out for enemy patrols doing the same thing as the King gathers his forces to try and retake the lost land.
Party:
"The Bannerless"
- 20 Mercenary Cavalry
- Armour: Kettle Helm, Mail Coat, leather boots and gloves.
- Weapons: All are equipped with a spear and cavalry shield. Secondary weapons range from swords to maces to axes based on personal preference. A handful have javelins and all of them have a few daggers that can be thrown.
- Mounts range from Hunters to Coursers depending on preference and what they could buy with their loot.
Equipment:
Worn (clothing/armor) :
- Mail Coat
- Gambeson
- Kettle Helm
- Khergit Leather Boots
- Leather Gloves
- Mount is a Stubborn Hunter named Goddamn. He had a different name before Dietrich bought him but Goddamn is what he is most often called.
Weapons (melee and shield)
- Spear
- Cavalry Shield
- Fine Arming Sword
Weapons (ranged) :
- Throwing Dagger (3)
Corndawg
Name: Roger Allard
Gender: Male
Age: 52
Faction of Birth: Swadian
Allegiance: Independent
Appearance:
6'1". True Gray eyes. He has a broad chest and shoulders, though not as muscly as they were in his youth. His work has maintained what it could, though his stomach has begun to take on a hearty appearance. His torso is pocked with various scars from battles past, including one very nasty cut along his thigh and a spot on his shoulder where an arrow hit and nearly killed him. His blessedly full hair is mostly gray with spots of black youth clinging through and is cut around 2" above his eyebrows in the front and kept similarly fashioned around the rest of his head. His face is clean shaven, showing a more rounded jaw and moderately thin lips.
Personality / Skills:
Roger is skilled mostly at skirmishing and ranged combat, but can hold his own in a melee scrap. His true skills lie in the years of experiences he's had, being able to call upon both his many connections and his various skills learned in his travels. Particular skills of interest include moderate tracking and bargaining skills as well as some minor leadership ability.
As a person, Roger is a warm-hearted and open man. His life has been full, but his need for new experiences is just as youthful as it was in the beginning. He is kind to those that deserve it and is quick to decipher someone's character. Malice is rarely, if ever found in his heart. He is instead characterized by cool thought and self-control.
Biography:
Born near the prosperous town of Veidar, Roger grew up working with his parents on their farm. His father was a friendly man who made it his job to assist those in need and work for the better of the village whenever possible, so Roger had a rather active childhood as he accompanied his father on various errands from delivering goods to splitting wood to mending walls. When not following in his old man's footsteps, Roger would practice with a bow on the edge of the woods or play at sticks with the other boys. Once he'd reached the age of 17, Roger found himself overtaken with wanderlust that stemmed from his numerous visits to Praven and the various travelers that he encountered both there and in the town in which he'd grown. Gathering what money he had from odd jobs and taking along his favorite bow, Roger ventured to sign on with the Swadian military.
Much to his chagrin, Roger wasn't allowed to use his bow due to his lord's strict adherence to Swadian military traditions. After some crossbow training, Roger was able to switch to a melee detachment and trained in the use of the sword there. It was in the military that Roger received his first taste of action on the battlefield, recklessly throwing himself into a small skirmish against bandits and receiving a small cut across his chest for his foolishness. After that battle, he began to really listen to his superiors and train correctly, taking a smarter approach to battle and becoming more skilled. It was also during this time that Roger began to keep a journal of his travels, using it as a means both to chronicle his life and to improve his writing ability. However, nothing could prepare him or his companions for a large battle against a force of Nords. His lord had been ordered to halt the advance of a host while the rest of the Kingdom gathered to fight back, effectively sacrificing the army. They dug in, but it was ultimately a slaughter during which Roger received a nasty cut along his thigh from the top to his knee. He killed his attacker but passed out not long after, waking to the silence of the dead a while later. Luckily for Roger, a mercenary company was travelling through the battlefield looking for loot and found him, taking him under their wing and tending his wounds. With a debt to be paid and potential problems if he returned to his lord, Roger signed on with the company.
It was in the company that Roger learned much of skirmishing as well as a rough business sense. The leader of the company, a charismatic man, inspired Roger by leading his men effectively and treating them fairly, signing them up to skirmish enemy lines and trying to keep those under his command alive for as long as he possibly could. Inevitably, the company found itself working for the Swadians against the Nords, this time as part of a host attacking rather than defending. It was in the aftermath of one of the battles that Roger found his bow on the corpse of a Nord and retrieved it for himself, using it in future engagements and gaining a familiar warmth from it.
Time passed and a 24 year old Roger found himself tiring of mercenary life. He'd traveled to all corners of Calradia and seen most, if not all of the major towns along the way. With a healthy purse, a few new scars, and years of experience under his belt, Roger parted from his friends in the mercenary company whilst in Sarranid territory. Ever the opportunist, Roger signed on with a merchant heading back through Khergit and then Vaegir territory as it made its way to Praven. On the road, the caravan came across another merchant who'd been ambushed on the line between the steppes and the cold of Vaegir territory. Among their number was a young Rhodok woman that Roger found himself stricken with. As the caravan aided the discovered survivors, taking them along to the next town, a relationship formed and Roger promised to fetch his new love, Maria, in two years time in Veluca. Leaving Maria with the funds necessary to reach home safely, Roger braved the frozen swaths until he reached the familiar fields of Swadia and his homeland.
Feeling a need to save up and settle down with his distant love, Roger became a bounty hunter. Using his time as a mercenary to draw in a small group of men to back him up and take down fugitives for lords throughout Swadia, Roger quickly established himself as an effective and respected bounty hunter. For the next few years, those on the run learned to fear the news that they were being hunted by Allard and his men. Many simply yielded upon spotting his men, but many more chose to fight, leaving Roger with a good deal of cuts and bruises to show for his hard work. However, he managed to save up and buy a plot of land in Nomar along the Swadian/Rhodok border. He soon sent for his love and they were quickly married and, by the age of 27, Roger had settled down and started a family.
The years ticked by as Roger set himself up in the surrounding area as a friendly and respectable man, taking after his father in many ways. By age 35 he had three sons and two daughters roaming around the house and a well established farm. However, disputes between the Swadians and Vaegirs began to brew and quickly came to a head and Roger, compelled by his sense of duty and status, answered the call to arms once more. Leading the men of his village, Allard campaigned among the lords of Swadia for several years as they fought a prolonged war against their neighbor. The wear and tear of battle once again honed Roger into the man he was in his youth (though a tad slower) and he fought admirably in all engagements. A few of the officers in the army felt threatened by Rogers standing, though, and endeavored to make his life difficult. He attempted to endure their small abuses and admirably did so until they arranged for him to be captured while out on a nightly patrol. His Vaegir captors did not take kindly to him and Allard suffered terribly at their hands.
A few months passed in captivity for Albert as he wasted away in a castle dungeon until fortune found the Swadian host besieging the fort. His spirits renewed, Roger rallied his fellow prisoners to be prepared for their chance to escape and be free from the torture they'd been subjected to and, sure enough, that chance came when an enterprising Swadian recruit took the time to open the cells in the midst of the battle. Now 38, Roger led his fellows to the armory and then out the door and into the fray. Rejuvenated by the presence of their countrymen, the prisoners fought bravely in the courtyard. As fate would have it, however, several archers on the parapets took notice of the lack of armor and focused their shots towards the prisoners. Roger was downed by an arrow to the shoulder and the others quickly carried off their prison leader. Despite his advanced age and the severity of the wound, Roger managed to cling on to his life by a string and begin the process of recovery. Discharged with healthy wage, Roger returned home to rest and retire.
The seasons came and went in Nomar. The crops came and were harvested, travelers and relatives visited often, and the children grew. Roger finally took some time to himself, freed of his wanderlust, and enjoyed his life at home with the woman he loved and his children by his side. Roger's gut even began to expand a little, as did his bountiful generosity to those around. He was still, however, troubled by his wartime experiences and took up instruments and singing to alleviate his anxieties. With music playing, a warm spot by the fire open, and a full table, life moved along in the Allard household. His eldest child, one of the girls, married and not long after so did his eldest son. Grandchildren began to appear in the house as his two other sons left home to begin their lives as merchants. Over time, however, the pitter patter of small feet disappeared as they found new homes with their parents and soon Roger was left with Maria and his youngest child, his dear daughter. She'd just been married herself. It was not long after that that Maria took sick and began to fade fast. The family returned and said their goodbyes and she passed surrounded with love.
A year went by without Maria and soon Roger felt a familiar feeling tugging at his heart. With nothing left tying him down, the world was calling to Roger again. He gathered his gear, including his trusty bow, and left his estate to his daughter and money for the rest and took off not long after. Now Roger is on the road in search of a few more adventures and new experiences to put under his belt.
Party:
Roger is travelling alone.
Equipment:
Worn (clothing/armor): Mail coif
- Green Surcoat Over Mail
- Splinted Greaves
- Also carries a riding cloak and everyday Clothes (tabard/woolen hose/etc.)
Weapons (melee and shield): Long arming sword
- Old heater shield
Weapons (ranged) : Old longbow
- Arrows
Note: All of Roger's starting equipment is from his past. He's kept it in decent repair, though the armor will obviously suffer a bit due to age and less care taken.
Gender: Male
Age: 52
Faction of Birth: Swadian
Allegiance: Independent
Appearance:
6'1". True Gray eyes. He has a broad chest and shoulders, though not as muscly as they were in his youth. His work has maintained what it could, though his stomach has begun to take on a hearty appearance. His torso is pocked with various scars from battles past, including one very nasty cut along his thigh and a spot on his shoulder where an arrow hit and nearly killed him. His blessedly full hair is mostly gray with spots of black youth clinging through and is cut around 2" above his eyebrows in the front and kept similarly fashioned around the rest of his head. His face is clean shaven, showing a more rounded jaw and moderately thin lips.
Personality / Skills:
Roger is skilled mostly at skirmishing and ranged combat, but can hold his own in a melee scrap. His true skills lie in the years of experiences he's had, being able to call upon both his many connections and his various skills learned in his travels. Particular skills of interest include moderate tracking and bargaining skills as well as some minor leadership ability.
As a person, Roger is a warm-hearted and open man. His life has been full, but his need for new experiences is just as youthful as it was in the beginning. He is kind to those that deserve it and is quick to decipher someone's character. Malice is rarely, if ever found in his heart. He is instead characterized by cool thought and self-control.
Biography:
Born near the prosperous town of Veidar, Roger grew up working with his parents on their farm. His father was a friendly man who made it his job to assist those in need and work for the better of the village whenever possible, so Roger had a rather active childhood as he accompanied his father on various errands from delivering goods to splitting wood to mending walls. When not following in his old man's footsteps, Roger would practice with a bow on the edge of the woods or play at sticks with the other boys. Once he'd reached the age of 17, Roger found himself overtaken with wanderlust that stemmed from his numerous visits to Praven and the various travelers that he encountered both there and in the town in which he'd grown. Gathering what money he had from odd jobs and taking along his favorite bow, Roger ventured to sign on with the Swadian military.
Much to his chagrin, Roger wasn't allowed to use his bow due to his lord's strict adherence to Swadian military traditions. After some crossbow training, Roger was able to switch to a melee detachment and trained in the use of the sword there. It was in the military that Roger received his first taste of action on the battlefield, recklessly throwing himself into a small skirmish against bandits and receiving a small cut across his chest for his foolishness. After that battle, he began to really listen to his superiors and train correctly, taking a smarter approach to battle and becoming more skilled. It was also during this time that Roger began to keep a journal of his travels, using it as a means both to chronicle his life and to improve his writing ability. However, nothing could prepare him or his companions for a large battle against a force of Nords. His lord had been ordered to halt the advance of a host while the rest of the Kingdom gathered to fight back, effectively sacrificing the army. They dug in, but it was ultimately a slaughter during which Roger received a nasty cut along his thigh from the top to his knee. He killed his attacker but passed out not long after, waking to the silence of the dead a while later. Luckily for Roger, a mercenary company was travelling through the battlefield looking for loot and found him, taking him under their wing and tending his wounds. With a debt to be paid and potential problems if he returned to his lord, Roger signed on with the company.
It was in the company that Roger learned much of skirmishing as well as a rough business sense. The leader of the company, a charismatic man, inspired Roger by leading his men effectively and treating them fairly, signing them up to skirmish enemy lines and trying to keep those under his command alive for as long as he possibly could. Inevitably, the company found itself working for the Swadians against the Nords, this time as part of a host attacking rather than defending. It was in the aftermath of one of the battles that Roger found his bow on the corpse of a Nord and retrieved it for himself, using it in future engagements and gaining a familiar warmth from it.
Time passed and a 24 year old Roger found himself tiring of mercenary life. He'd traveled to all corners of Calradia and seen most, if not all of the major towns along the way. With a healthy purse, a few new scars, and years of experience under his belt, Roger parted from his friends in the mercenary company whilst in Sarranid territory. Ever the opportunist, Roger signed on with a merchant heading back through Khergit and then Vaegir territory as it made its way to Praven. On the road, the caravan came across another merchant who'd been ambushed on the line between the steppes and the cold of Vaegir territory. Among their number was a young Rhodok woman that Roger found himself stricken with. As the caravan aided the discovered survivors, taking them along to the next town, a relationship formed and Roger promised to fetch his new love, Maria, in two years time in Veluca. Leaving Maria with the funds necessary to reach home safely, Roger braved the frozen swaths until he reached the familiar fields of Swadia and his homeland.
Feeling a need to save up and settle down with his distant love, Roger became a bounty hunter. Using his time as a mercenary to draw in a small group of men to back him up and take down fugitives for lords throughout Swadia, Roger quickly established himself as an effective and respected bounty hunter. For the next few years, those on the run learned to fear the news that they were being hunted by Allard and his men. Many simply yielded upon spotting his men, but many more chose to fight, leaving Roger with a good deal of cuts and bruises to show for his hard work. However, he managed to save up and buy a plot of land in Nomar along the Swadian/Rhodok border. He soon sent for his love and they were quickly married and, by the age of 27, Roger had settled down and started a family.
The years ticked by as Roger set himself up in the surrounding area as a friendly and respectable man, taking after his father in many ways. By age 35 he had three sons and two daughters roaming around the house and a well established farm. However, disputes between the Swadians and Vaegirs began to brew and quickly came to a head and Roger, compelled by his sense of duty and status, answered the call to arms once more. Leading the men of his village, Allard campaigned among the lords of Swadia for several years as they fought a prolonged war against their neighbor. The wear and tear of battle once again honed Roger into the man he was in his youth (though a tad slower) and he fought admirably in all engagements. A few of the officers in the army felt threatened by Rogers standing, though, and endeavored to make his life difficult. He attempted to endure their small abuses and admirably did so until they arranged for him to be captured while out on a nightly patrol. His Vaegir captors did not take kindly to him and Allard suffered terribly at their hands.
A few months passed in captivity for Albert as he wasted away in a castle dungeon until fortune found the Swadian host besieging the fort. His spirits renewed, Roger rallied his fellow prisoners to be prepared for their chance to escape and be free from the torture they'd been subjected to and, sure enough, that chance came when an enterprising Swadian recruit took the time to open the cells in the midst of the battle. Now 38, Roger led his fellows to the armory and then out the door and into the fray. Rejuvenated by the presence of their countrymen, the prisoners fought bravely in the courtyard. As fate would have it, however, several archers on the parapets took notice of the lack of armor and focused their shots towards the prisoners. Roger was downed by an arrow to the shoulder and the others quickly carried off their prison leader. Despite his advanced age and the severity of the wound, Roger managed to cling on to his life by a string and begin the process of recovery. Discharged with healthy wage, Roger returned home to rest and retire.
The seasons came and went in Nomar. The crops came and were harvested, travelers and relatives visited often, and the children grew. Roger finally took some time to himself, freed of his wanderlust, and enjoyed his life at home with the woman he loved and his children by his side. Roger's gut even began to expand a little, as did his bountiful generosity to those around. He was still, however, troubled by his wartime experiences and took up instruments and singing to alleviate his anxieties. With music playing, a warm spot by the fire open, and a full table, life moved along in the Allard household. His eldest child, one of the girls, married and not long after so did his eldest son. Grandchildren began to appear in the house as his two other sons left home to begin their lives as merchants. Over time, however, the pitter patter of small feet disappeared as they found new homes with their parents and soon Roger was left with Maria and his youngest child, his dear daughter. She'd just been married herself. It was not long after that that Maria took sick and began to fade fast. The family returned and said their goodbyes and she passed surrounded with love.
A year went by without Maria and soon Roger felt a familiar feeling tugging at his heart. With nothing left tying him down, the world was calling to Roger again. He gathered his gear, including his trusty bow, and left his estate to his daughter and money for the rest and took off not long after. Now Roger is on the road in search of a few more adventures and new experiences to put under his belt.
Party:
Roger is travelling alone.
Equipment:
Worn (clothing/armor): Mail coif
- Green Surcoat Over Mail
- Splinted Greaves
- Also carries a riding cloak and everyday Clothes (tabard/woolen hose/etc.)
Weapons (melee and shield): Long arming sword
- Old heater shield
Weapons (ranged) : Old longbow
- Arrows
Note: All of Roger's starting equipment is from his past. He's kept it in decent repair, though the armor will obviously suffer a bit due to age and less care taken.
Paronomasia12
[size=14pt]Name: Valerie (also known by her Sarranid name, Asiyah)
Gender: Female
Age: 27
Faction of Birth: The Sarranid Sultanate
Allegiance: Independent, ready to be contracted as a healer
Appearance:
At 5'2”, Valerie is short in stature but still stands tall; she is well dressed and meticulously neat, she looks like she is affluent and has the arrogance to match. Her auburn hair is shoulder-length and held forward in a braid down the left of her temple. Her skin is lightly tanned due her Sarranid heritage. Black kohl worn around her grey eyes and red stained beeswax upon her lips. Her body is scarred and bruised from the whips and labour of her recent captivity.
Personality / Skills:
Charismatic, introspective and attentive, she is incredibly friendly, warm and a pleasure to drink with. Rational, she is a keen learner and able to act in an objective manner.
From her time in captivity, she is sadistic in her treatment of her enemies. She also isn't as well trusted by those who have heard rumours, fearing she could slip nightshade into their ale. It is lucky for most that she made a personal promise to use her more harmful skills on the hated bandits, those who prey on the weak and defile the innocent. She is devoted to the innocent but, even if paid, is indifferent to the suffering of those she does not consider worthy of her treatment.
Due to her continual travelling, multilingualism and her learning, she is able to disguise herself well within any of the six realms. She has an expert's knowledge in apothecary and of healing. And although she has only a passing knowledge of the blade and an average use with the bow, she is fast for her height, agile and an excellent rider.
Biography:
Born in Sekhtem, Valerie is the only child of her Nord father and his Sarranid wife. She spent the first years of her life travelling Calradia with her kind and doting merchant parents. They were of comfortable financial stature, though they were not rich, and had the ears of some of the most influential merchant guilds of Calradia. She was brought up to be an assistant of travelling merchants, taught to speak the six tongues and in the ways of the six cultures.
On the day of her tenth birthday, whilst transporting wine to Sargoth for the merchant guild in Veluca, the caravan she and her parents were travelling in was attacked by the hired thugs of a rival guild. Both her mother and father were murdered by the men, Valerie surviving only by hiding under the twilight shade of a nearby bush. Managing to escape detection as the thugs looted and boozed, she wandered and after two days on her own, she was discovered by a Swadian patrol, starving, cold and trembling.
She was returned to her birth place, Sekhtem, to be fostered by her auntie and her step-uncle, who immediately starting spending her inheritance on a life of luxury. But when the money ran out, they then started to abuse and neglect Valerie, blaming her for all their financial problems. It was after many attempts that she managed to escape at the age of thirteen and travelled to seek better opportunities in the Sarranid capital, Shariz. There, in a tavern, she met and came under the influence of the Nord acolyte and alchemist, Alberic, and his histrion sister, Esta. Alberic, who is like the lost father to Valerie, taught her skills in healing and apothecary, whilst Esta taught her the ways of speechcraft, acting and schmoozing.
As Alberic and Esta travelled around Calradia, healing and caring for the minds and bodies of the landed to great profit, Valerie strengthened her deceased father's contacts with the tavern owners and merchant guilds. It was a gentle life of comfort and excess.
But in her twenty forth year, whilst they were travelling through Halmar, Valerie was abducted by a group of bandits to be sold into slavery. She suffered much as any woman in her circumstances would, but her knowledge in healing and apothecary meant she had more than the one use and she was kept alive. It was during this time of torture and abuse that she started to have the visions that would shape her future desires, and believing herself to be blessed, she never lost the will to survive.
It was three years before Alberic found her and paid a sizeable ransom, taking her back to their Shariz home. Her rational side realized her visions may have resulted from the drugs used to keep her pliant, but her mind was already set. She would want revenge and to experience the glory and honour that could be won on the field of battle.
Party:
Valerie currently travels on her own.
Equipment:
Worn (clothing/armor) :
- Red silk head cloth with a Gold-coin face veil
- Silk Gold-patterned red ankle-length dress (similar to the abaya)
- Leather sandals (like the Roman caligae)
- Leather Apothecary satchel containing
- Leather straps
- Alberic's Pharmacopoeia
- Mercuric Chloride crystals
- Bundles of Thyme, Heather and Hemlock
- Frankincense and Mastic/Sarranid Gum
Weapons (melee and shield) :
- Decorated curved Sarranid dagger
Weapons (ranged) :
- Sarranid Recurved bow
- Belt quiver for Twenty-eight Sarranid barbed arrows
Mount:
- Sabaa, palfrey flea-bitten grey Desert mare. Other equipment carried upon saddle[/size]
Gender: Female
Age: 27
Faction of Birth: The Sarranid Sultanate
Allegiance: Independent, ready to be contracted as a healer
Appearance:
At 5'2”, Valerie is short in stature but still stands tall; she is well dressed and meticulously neat, she looks like she is affluent and has the arrogance to match. Her auburn hair is shoulder-length and held forward in a braid down the left of her temple. Her skin is lightly tanned due her Sarranid heritage. Black kohl worn around her grey eyes and red stained beeswax upon her lips. Her body is scarred and bruised from the whips and labour of her recent captivity.
Personality / Skills:
Charismatic, introspective and attentive, she is incredibly friendly, warm and a pleasure to drink with. Rational, she is a keen learner and able to act in an objective manner.
From her time in captivity, she is sadistic in her treatment of her enemies. She also isn't as well trusted by those who have heard rumours, fearing she could slip nightshade into their ale. It is lucky for most that she made a personal promise to use her more harmful skills on the hated bandits, those who prey on the weak and defile the innocent. She is devoted to the innocent but, even if paid, is indifferent to the suffering of those she does not consider worthy of her treatment.
Due to her continual travelling, multilingualism and her learning, she is able to disguise herself well within any of the six realms. She has an expert's knowledge in apothecary and of healing. And although she has only a passing knowledge of the blade and an average use with the bow, she is fast for her height, agile and an excellent rider.
Biography:
Born in Sekhtem, Valerie is the only child of her Nord father and his Sarranid wife. She spent the first years of her life travelling Calradia with her kind and doting merchant parents. They were of comfortable financial stature, though they were not rich, and had the ears of some of the most influential merchant guilds of Calradia. She was brought up to be an assistant of travelling merchants, taught to speak the six tongues and in the ways of the six cultures.
On the day of her tenth birthday, whilst transporting wine to Sargoth for the merchant guild in Veluca, the caravan she and her parents were travelling in was attacked by the hired thugs of a rival guild. Both her mother and father were murdered by the men, Valerie surviving only by hiding under the twilight shade of a nearby bush. Managing to escape detection as the thugs looted and boozed, she wandered and after two days on her own, she was discovered by a Swadian patrol, starving, cold and trembling.
She was returned to her birth place, Sekhtem, to be fostered by her auntie and her step-uncle, who immediately starting spending her inheritance on a life of luxury. But when the money ran out, they then started to abuse and neglect Valerie, blaming her for all their financial problems. It was after many attempts that she managed to escape at the age of thirteen and travelled to seek better opportunities in the Sarranid capital, Shariz. There, in a tavern, she met and came under the influence of the Nord acolyte and alchemist, Alberic, and his histrion sister, Esta. Alberic, who is like the lost father to Valerie, taught her skills in healing and apothecary, whilst Esta taught her the ways of speechcraft, acting and schmoozing.
As Alberic and Esta travelled around Calradia, healing and caring for the minds and bodies of the landed to great profit, Valerie strengthened her deceased father's contacts with the tavern owners and merchant guilds. It was a gentle life of comfort and excess.
But in her twenty forth year, whilst they were travelling through Halmar, Valerie was abducted by a group of bandits to be sold into slavery. She suffered much as any woman in her circumstances would, but her knowledge in healing and apothecary meant she had more than the one use and she was kept alive. It was during this time of torture and abuse that she started to have the visions that would shape her future desires, and believing herself to be blessed, she never lost the will to survive.
It was three years before Alberic found her and paid a sizeable ransom, taking her back to their Shariz home. Her rational side realized her visions may have resulted from the drugs used to keep her pliant, but her mind was already set. She would want revenge and to experience the glory and honour that could be won on the field of battle.
Party:
Valerie currently travels on her own.
Equipment:
Worn (clothing/armor) :
- Red silk head cloth with a Gold-coin face veil
- Silk Gold-patterned red ankle-length dress (similar to the abaya)
- Leather sandals (like the Roman caligae)
- Leather Apothecary satchel containing
- Leather straps
- Alberic's Pharmacopoeia
- Mercuric Chloride crystals
- Bundles of Thyme, Heather and Hemlock
- Frankincense and Mastic/Sarranid Gum
Weapons (melee and shield) :
- Decorated curved Sarranid dagger
Weapons (ranged) :
- Sarranid Recurved bow
- Belt quiver for Twenty-eight Sarranid barbed arrows
Mount:
- Sabaa, palfrey flea-bitten grey Desert mare. Other equipment carried upon saddle[/size]
Bound Sentinel
Name: Bertrand
Gender: Male
Age: 21
Faction of Birth: Geroian
Allegiance: Independent
Appearance:
Bertrand stands relatively short with an average muscled body. With a scattered dark hair and newly growing beard and light skin, he looks nothing like battle hardened except a giant horizontal scar from childhood beneath his darkish brown eyes, and upper of a shapely snub nose. His lips however, are small and natural surly shaped. With a constant frown living in his face, those lips fit him.
Keeping a rash appearance, he takes no effort in tidying up his hair and shave, as he believes it is a must for living as a free man, and to show his serious nature without being considered as a kid by his enemies, which mostly consists of bandits and runaways.
Personality / Skills:
Being trained by the garrison captain as a child, he quickly became an expert in using crossbow. Having shot the board countless times before, he takes no effort in reloading and steadily aiming his favored light oak crossbow. Skilled with the ranged weapon, he is also a determined sword wielder; Although not being truly skilled about it, he still can manage himself against a typical marauder with effective blocking and parrying. Being a sword user, he somehow doesn't like to use any kind of shield at all, not because of self confidence about coming projectiles, but he is unable to carry a shield with all the weapons and armor and manage to run.
As for personality, with arrogant and disloyal behavior, no sense of humor and a deep, calm voice, Bertrand fits greatly for a rogue. Highly caring about money and wealth, he will readily do any kind of task that will earn him some denars. He also wears a strong hatred to the Nords.
Biography:
"No one cared about me, my family and my village, peasants were only living in Geroia because they needed some people to grow their food and recruit them as their servants for vile deeds. And they expect us to follow this?" Says Bertrand, son of Oldwin, and a commoner. Born in one of the peaceful villages of Geroia, Bertrand and his sister spent their childhood helping their family in the farm, running around in the fields and enjoying life while they can. Bertrand was a cheerful and delighted back then, chasing chickens, playing with his sister and helping the farm was his childhood before the bandit attack.
At the age of 7, in a harvest day, bearded warriors with chain mail and axes came from the longships and started plundering the village. It was the darkest moment Bertrand had, and he still doesn't know how he survived through this massacre, but the last time he remembered was running with all he can inside the wheat field.
After running away to a safe ground, all he can think was what to do now. Without a family, he wandered around the prospering lands of Geroia, and came across a band of manhunters. They helped the child to the nearest city, and the garrison captain there got grieved about Bertrand's state and accepted him as his child, offered his home and good will; The child had no reason to deny.
As years passed, Bertrand lived alongside of the Garrison Captain and his wife, a family without children, and helped their everyday life. With a simple life going on, Bertrand was also training himself with the crossbow his father gave him. He loaded the crossbow, aimed with the way it's taught and pulled the trigger for years, eventually mastering this armor piercing weapon. But something didn't felt right.
When he was 19, the pain was unbearable. Memories from past were bothering him so much, his caring new family wasn't enough for Bertrand to find peace. When Garrison Captain was asking him about joining the city guard, Bertrand simply said he will leave, and Captain respected that. He thanked for all the help, gave him the crossbow, a fine Sarranid sword (He said it was from one of the provinces in Calradia) and some money to stay alive, and let the boy pursue what he wanted.
Without journeying too much around Geroia, Bertrand decided it would be best to leave these lands for good and look for his path Elsewhere. When he was in a port city, townsfolk talk on how a war was raging on Calradia inspired him to take the merchant ship to the city called "Rivacheg". But before that, when he went to the tavern for a drink, he met a strong, bald man with cloudy grey eyes who was holding the biggest battle axe Bertrand has ever seen before. When Bertrand sat beside him, man started to act troubled. Asking if anything bothers him, man said his name was Uther, he was a freelancer and was looking for a way to escape his debts to one of the Lords here in Geroia. Lucky to have found me, Bertrand said to himself, as he offers Uther a way to escape his life in this place along with him. Uther didn't want to accompany this bold fellow in a journey at first, but Bertrand somehow managed to persuade him into believing he can't survive alone in a new, harsh land with a fiery speech. On the same day, two friends boarded the ship traveling to Rivacheg with high hopes of adventure and wealth after the pints of ale were emptied.
As they arrive in Calradia, in the cold streets of Rivacheg; Bertrand bought decent armor and a set of throwing knives with all the remaining money his father gave him, and prepared himself for any kinds of violence on the way. Now, the two fellow will journey along Calradia and try to earn a name for themselves, but Bertrand is already sure he will tailor his fate with a lot of gold here.
Party:
He travels with Uther, who is wearing a coat of plates with a closed helm and a two-handed bearded axe, iron plate boots and chain gauntlets.
Equipment:
Worn (clothing/armor):
- Padded Cloth
- Iron Cap
- Leather Boots
Weapons (melee and shield):
- Sarranid Sword
Weapons (ranged):
- Light Oak Crossbow /w Bolts.
- 4 Throwing Knives arranged in the belt.
Gender: Male
Age: 21
Faction of Birth: Geroian
Allegiance: Independent
Appearance:
Bertrand stands relatively short with an average muscled body. With a scattered dark hair and newly growing beard and light skin, he looks nothing like battle hardened except a giant horizontal scar from childhood beneath his darkish brown eyes, and upper of a shapely snub nose. His lips however, are small and natural surly shaped. With a constant frown living in his face, those lips fit him.
Keeping a rash appearance, he takes no effort in tidying up his hair and shave, as he believes it is a must for living as a free man, and to show his serious nature without being considered as a kid by his enemies, which mostly consists of bandits and runaways.
Personality / Skills:
Being trained by the garrison captain as a child, he quickly became an expert in using crossbow. Having shot the board countless times before, he takes no effort in reloading and steadily aiming his favored light oak crossbow. Skilled with the ranged weapon, he is also a determined sword wielder; Although not being truly skilled about it, he still can manage himself against a typical marauder with effective blocking and parrying. Being a sword user, he somehow doesn't like to use any kind of shield at all, not because of self confidence about coming projectiles, but he is unable to carry a shield with all the weapons and armor and manage to run.
As for personality, with arrogant and disloyal behavior, no sense of humor and a deep, calm voice, Bertrand fits greatly for a rogue. Highly caring about money and wealth, he will readily do any kind of task that will earn him some denars. He also wears a strong hatred to the Nords.
Biography:
"No one cared about me, my family and my village, peasants were only living in Geroia because they needed some people to grow their food and recruit them as their servants for vile deeds. And they expect us to follow this?" Says Bertrand, son of Oldwin, and a commoner. Born in one of the peaceful villages of Geroia, Bertrand and his sister spent their childhood helping their family in the farm, running around in the fields and enjoying life while they can. Bertrand was a cheerful and delighted back then, chasing chickens, playing with his sister and helping the farm was his childhood before the bandit attack.
At the age of 7, in a harvest day, bearded warriors with chain mail and axes came from the longships and started plundering the village. It was the darkest moment Bertrand had, and he still doesn't know how he survived through this massacre, but the last time he remembered was running with all he can inside the wheat field.
After running away to a safe ground, all he can think was what to do now. Without a family, he wandered around the prospering lands of Geroia, and came across a band of manhunters. They helped the child to the nearest city, and the garrison captain there got grieved about Bertrand's state and accepted him as his child, offered his home and good will; The child had no reason to deny.
As years passed, Bertrand lived alongside of the Garrison Captain and his wife, a family without children, and helped their everyday life. With a simple life going on, Bertrand was also training himself with the crossbow his father gave him. He loaded the crossbow, aimed with the way it's taught and pulled the trigger for years, eventually mastering this armor piercing weapon. But something didn't felt right.
When he was 19, the pain was unbearable. Memories from past were bothering him so much, his caring new family wasn't enough for Bertrand to find peace. When Garrison Captain was asking him about joining the city guard, Bertrand simply said he will leave, and Captain respected that. He thanked for all the help, gave him the crossbow, a fine Sarranid sword (He said it was from one of the provinces in Calradia) and some money to stay alive, and let the boy pursue what he wanted.
Without journeying too much around Geroia, Bertrand decided it would be best to leave these lands for good and look for his path Elsewhere. When he was in a port city, townsfolk talk on how a war was raging on Calradia inspired him to take the merchant ship to the city called "Rivacheg". But before that, when he went to the tavern for a drink, he met a strong, bald man with cloudy grey eyes who was holding the biggest battle axe Bertrand has ever seen before. When Bertrand sat beside him, man started to act troubled. Asking if anything bothers him, man said his name was Uther, he was a freelancer and was looking for a way to escape his debts to one of the Lords here in Geroia. Lucky to have found me, Bertrand said to himself, as he offers Uther a way to escape his life in this place along with him. Uther didn't want to accompany this bold fellow in a journey at first, but Bertrand somehow managed to persuade him into believing he can't survive alone in a new, harsh land with a fiery speech. On the same day, two friends boarded the ship traveling to Rivacheg with high hopes of adventure and wealth after the pints of ale were emptied.
As they arrive in Calradia, in the cold streets of Rivacheg; Bertrand bought decent armor and a set of throwing knives with all the remaining money his father gave him, and prepared himself for any kinds of violence on the way. Now, the two fellow will journey along Calradia and try to earn a name for themselves, but Bertrand is already sure he will tailor his fate with a lot of gold here.
Party:
He travels with Uther, who is wearing a coat of plates with a closed helm and a two-handed bearded axe, iron plate boots and chain gauntlets.
Equipment:
Worn (clothing/armor):
- Padded Cloth
- Iron Cap
- Leather Boots
Weapons (melee and shield):
- Sarranid Sword
Weapons (ranged):
- Light Oak Crossbow /w Bolts.
- 4 Throwing Knives arranged in the belt.
