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Fantasy ~Fire Emblem Reverence: The Insurrection of Etalus~ [Characters]

Main
Here
OOC
Here
Lore
Here
SkyGinge

SkyGinge

Sad Shroom
Characters & Applications

This thread contains everything you need to know about creating a character for this writing adventure. Please make sure to read everything before you begin, and also feel free to ask me any questions in the OOC thread or by dropping me a PM!
​


  • Group Size: I am looking for between 5-14 people to join me in writing this adventure. I have plans to manage the group whether small and intimate or large and bustling, and to ensure there is at least some workable story should we suffer the inevitable group RP fate of having people bail early on.

    Character Limits: You are allowed one major character each. You are also allowed and encouraged to come up with villainous/side-characters too which may tie into your character’s subplots and goals. Please discuss these with me first though!

    Reservations: Character spots cannot be reserved and will not be assigned on a first-come-first-served basis. I will review all applications after a deadline and then accept the most promising submissions. You may be asked to tweak your character to fit a slightly different role so that all the nations have suitable representation.

    Character Expectations: As this is a player-driven RP, I am looking for characters which have the following characteristics:
    • A clear sense of goal/purpose.
    • Potential for interpersonal conflict with at least several other characters, be that through clashing values or conflicting desires.
    • A balance of 'positive' and 'negative' traits, giving a sense of potential for character progression.
    I will also take into account your previous site-activity and RP experience.

    Submission Process & Deadline: To submit a character, simply reply to this thread with a completed character form - or alternatively, PM me your character form. The initial character submission deadline is Tuesday 16th September. I will then select the most appropriate submissions, either accepting your form as it is, requesting edits in the form of asking for more information or asking if you'd be willing to fit the character into a different role, or rejecting your application. If you're rejected, don't feel too upset - not every RP is suitable for everyone!

    After the deadline, applications may stay open depending on how many characters we have. I may also push the deadline back.
 
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  • Stats:
    LevelHPStrengthMagicSkillSpeedDefenseResistance
    52410093115

    1725748454368.png1725746526433.png
    Name: Amadeus Duncan Ignacio Jussane
    Age: 20
    Nation & Role: Jussane, the Proposing Prince
    "My siblings all have their own expertise. Handling coin and writing legislation. Sorcery and glowering. Rousing speeches, dancing, and wyvern-riding. As for me? I plan. I fight. I win."
    Click to expand...
    Appearance: Handsome and sharp-eyed, his posture and countenance often bring to mind the image of a hunting hound. Piercing blue eyes are framed by a noble face, well-tanned from his constant travels. He prefers the traditional blues of Jussanne, and usually wears fine yet practical clothing- ever ready for the ballroom or the battlefield as needed. At his side hangs a blade, finely-forged, but ultimately unadorned.

    Class: Knight
    Stats:     20 Stat Points to Spend.
    HP +2, Strength +3, Skill +7, Speed +3, Defense +2, Res +3

    Scheme:
    A Scheme to Strengthen.

    • Flying Snow and Raging Sea - [Lance] - [Special]:​
      • This partisan spear was forged by a genius smith who defected from Sanghalo, after being part of a failed rebellion in Windermere. It is a fine weapon that seems ordinary until wielded by highly skilled spearman. Then, its true quality is revealed- it is far swifter than it should be, almost as if it is a living thing. While the wielder may not move across the battlefield with any greater alacrity, once they have closed the gap, their strikes are like lightning, tearing enemies apart as if a wild beast was unleashed. (Using Skill in place of Speed for the purposes of melee combat rather than movement, probably, or something like that.)​
    • A Sister's Gift - [Lance]:​
      • A proper weapon for any knight, Amadeus has a longer war-lance of fine steel that he can use if the circumstances call for it. Gifted to him by his eldest sister, the haft being made of an Ash tree from Harham Forest. It is a massive, hefty weapon, that strikes with devastating effect.​
    • A Desperate Art - [Brawling]:​
      • Not truly a weapon, but instead a style of martial arts crafted by Amadeus due to the circumstances, and rarely used. When one's weapon is not to hand, one resorts to the inelegance of the fist and the open palm- And the hastily-grabbed rock, and the biting teeth, and the gouging thumb. It is brutal. It is savage. But so is war, and so the battlefield is not a place for men. It is a place for beasts. Harham taught him a lesson that he never forgot.​
    • Vulnerary - [Support]:​
      • It does not seem like much, but it contains enough to save a life. On the battlefield, it is worth more than gold.​

    The youngest of the line of Jussane. As far as the wider world knows, he is a charming, dashing figure- even with the rise of anti-monarchic sentiment, Amadeus retains the commonfolk's good graces. The Azure Blade, a frequent traveler of the kingdom, is oft the first to respond to Sanghalo's invasions at the head of his company. And he is frequent visitor to many noble's courts, all smiles and good cheer, as the gentle touch of the King's hand- as opposed to his much more dour elder sister, who tended to serve as the King's statement of ill-intent on her journeys as an envoy. He is confident, with an ego that borders on the hubristic, ever with an easy joke on his lips, and a smirk of a smile.

    Behind the doors of the palace, however- He is by far the most cynical, conniving, and unscrupulous of all his siblings. He regularly places upon the table of discussion in their councils such marvelous tools as espionage, assassination, blackmail, in solving the embattled royals' political woes. And that is for internal affairs. He has made suggestion of truly terrible things indeed as to dealing with Sanghalo incursions- and, on the rare occasion, performed them. If his sister was the stick, he plays both the carrot and the knife. Even if he obtains his family's tacit acceptance for this- he will never have their approval for such things, and that's fine by him. Some prices have to be paid. For all his scheming, however, he is no coward. He will fight on the front lines aside his men, carrying them through his most wicked schemes- even his heart gladly given for the sake of his country and his family. Perhaps this is his own form of honor, that he will stop at nothing for their sake.

    But this means he is slow to forgive slights, even if he might bear them with grace on the surface- His heart is difficult to reach on account of the scar tissue that has built up over it. He never quite trusts anyone outside his family- prone to keeping others at arms length when he really should not. And he has a bad tendency to leap to conclusions given limited information, even if his adaptability lets him make up for it. usually.

​
 
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Sir Morwen Harkendale
The Sunflare Knight
34 y/o | Sanghalo Retainer | Soldier
​

  • Appearance
    An imposing figure, despite standing at a relatively average height of 5'8, Sir Morwen Harkendale possesses the aura of a veteran soldier and is never seen outside of his armor, no matter what the occasion. If it is considered rude to jam food into the visor of his helmet, then he will simply stand vigil at the walls of the dining hall. If there is a matter of personal hygiene that needs to be addressed immediately, then he will spritz on some perfume. With such mystery behind the man behind the helmet, of course, there are rumors abound. Some speak of a fair-faced man so dangerously handsome that he would seduce away all the ladies and princesses. Others speak of a horribly wretched freak, scarred by war and flame, who hides his mien so others are not offended. Perhaps he is a monster in its entirety, bearing the touch of that warped dragon-god. Perhaps he bears the weight of many campaigns, traumatized by battle until he cannot breathe except through the slit of his golden helmet.​
    ​
    It is known that he possesses a steady hand beneath his gloves, that his steps are graceful despite the weight of his armor. It is also known that he has no head for politics, tactics, or strategy, as an individual who is more than happy to be wielded as a cudgel by the one he serves.​

    Personality
    A veteran of far too many campaigns, who had helmed the vanguard in innumerable charges, who had distinguished himself to such a degree in military action that he had become the personal bodyguard of one of the royals. Sir Morwen Harkendale is truly a soldier through and through, his voice echoing mountainous through his helmet, his spirit always soaring as bright as the sun that he is titled after. He possesses the slightly oaf-ish affect of an uncle, charming in the way that a worldly commoner could be. And yet, that soldierly discipline remains as well: Morwen never rises to others' provocations, and he is quick to remind others that despite his reputation, there is no particular honor to be won in besting a common man such as himself. And regardless, he is a soldier by profession. Only his commanders or his charge could order him to fight.​
    ​
    Of course, his own rules remain, even in the face of royalty. He will not remove his helmet, and will respond aggressively if one attempts to do so through force or subterfuge. Everyone wears masks, after all. It's a bit of a faux pas to try to remove the most obvious one, when the two-faced sycophants are far more dangerous than he.​

    Backstory
    Harkendale is the name of a village the district of Skendr. There, the mountains are carved away by the human spirit, pickaxes and minecarts pulling out the bounty of iron to fuel the forges of Sanghalo.​
    ​
    There too, was Morwen's home.​
    ​
    He was an orphan, and, as orphans tended to do, he worked as soon as he was able to. At first, he sharpened the tools of the older miners or crawled into small tunnels to prospect for the demo-mages before they threw in balls of explosive flame to open up new spaces. Then, he worked to carry loads back and forth, pushing and pulling carts when the beasts of burden were being used elsewhere. And soon enough, he was a miner proper. A miner dreaming of getting out of the mines, before his lungs turned to stone, before his bones were buried beneath a demo-mage's mistake.​
    ​
    Thankfully, Sanghalo had plenty of opportunities for those who were stupid and strong. The military called to him, and it was within the military that he excelled. Simple pleasures were all that were needed to keep Morwen Harkendale satisfied, after all, and he had been born to do hard work. Whether marching without rest for days on end, or fighting battles of conquest or protection on the borders or the outlands, or crushing rioters and outlaws beneath the haft of his spear, Morwen was exceptional, a diamond founded in a pile of coal. If there was only one thing that was bothersome, though, was the fact that he was a commoner. A commoner, indeed, whose martial accomplishments were beginning to put knights to shame. By his late-20s, there was certainly a sense that his superiors were trying to get him killed.​
    ​
    They, of course, were unsuccessful.​
    ​
    He cleared out Mildred's Bandits by himself, his armor coated with viscera as the sun set. He survived the gatecrashing of Fort Telmuir, that once-impenetrable stronghold on the Northwall borders of Jussane and Sanghalo. He had charged head-first into the blizzard of the Silverlight Mage Corps and came out the other side still burning with sanguine vigor. He had thrown a spear with such force as to pierce one Wyvern Rider on the way up, and then another Wyvern Rider on the way down. With neither political saavy nor tactical genius, the man who would soon be known as the Sunflare Knight simply shone brilliantly and unrepentantly, until word of his deeds reached the ears of King Damaron himself, and this hero in a world after the Age of Heroes was granted a title, a small plot of land, and the type of duty that ensured he would never really be able to enjoy any of those things.​
    ​
    Sir Morwen Harkendale didn't mind, however.​
    ​
    He was, after all, a man of simple pleasures.​

    Scheme
    He remains a man of simple pleasures.​
    ​
    And one of those pleasures?​
    ​
    War.​
    ​
    ...​
    ​
    But Morwen is patient. He is certain that once Damaron's spawn gets their way, the other nations wouldn't simply sit by idly. And even if that spying scion fails? It's no matter; a civil war will still provide him with plenty of work to do.​
 
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Ichor - Shadow Upon the Tempest
Ichorconcept1.jpg
Age: 23
Nation & Role: Ditania, Retainer to the Discerning Daughter.
Appearance: Ichor isn't particularly tall, but would he be short enough to be considered—well, short? I mean, 5'4" isn't ideal. Hard to say whether or not he compensates with any level of bulk in his stature since his garb is far to loose to give any idea as to his build. Seemingly everything about him is designed to make him as vague as possible, even his silhouette is hard to discern in the heat of battle save for his head: the hat goes a long way in that. As for his face—ha! Wouldn't you like to know? That isn't for potential enemies of the state to see. The mask stays on. The only thing that peers through is his piercing silver eyes.
Class: Myrmidon V​
HPSTRMAGSKLSPDDEFRES
24 (18+6)8 (4+4)5 (1+4)7 (6+1)8 (7+1)4 (1+3)4 (3+1)
Inventory:

Hyouraitetsuken (氷雷鉄剣) "Cold Lightning Edge" - A startlingly long, two-handed, single-edged sword that Ichor inherited from his parents. Even still, no matter how much he begs them or pleads them, they refuse to say what it was even forged from. The blade is always cold to the touch, and always inflicts mild pins-and-needles.

Blizzard Tempest: Absolute - A tome bound in Draconic Oak bark with Lichtenburg scarring on its faces and light frosting on the edges. Despite being what is undoubtedly a tool for magic, no mage Ichor has ever met has managed to invoke the will of the pages. Neither can he. For right now, it's just an interesting read.

A Vulnerary case: A hip mounted box with three vulneraries in it.

Personality: Ichor thinks. That's all there really is to it. There's no problem he can't worm his way out of, even social ones. He always knows what to say and when to say it; not to say that comes free. There's the issue of paralysis: decision paralysis that is. When you make it your job to make the most optimal decisions in every waking moment of the day, from the breakfast you eat waking up, to which direction to deflect a dead-on sword strike, to whether you take a hot or cold shower before bed, it can become very detrimental to prioritize every choice you make with the same weight as a life the same way he does.

Not to say that there aren't some decisions that come easy to him: he was taught from a young age to use his abilities in service of others, and he does everything in his power to see that fulfilled. Though it can become an issue of boundaries, trying to help people who don't want to be helped. Or worse, getting so busy trying to help others that he can't find the energy to help himself. And when he doesn't help himself, he can very easily be consumed by the rancor. Let's call him... short-fused.
Scheme: Ichor is a scholar, someone who values knowledge for its power in helping people and ability to better the lives of the people he holds dear and beyond. The perversion of Mt. Etalus and Xios' gift of magic through the Draconic Oak is a most disgusting thing to Ichor, and everything he does is in service of protecting the sanctity of Etalus and its magic from the people who would exploit it for political or economic gain.
Backstory: Born a child of two worlds, Ichor was given a unique perspective in life from his parents. His father, a citizen of Ditania and a smith of great skill and renown; and his mother, an immigrant of Jussane's Aechon Archipelago and a frighteningly powerful Frost Mage. It was something that allowed him to grow into someone with ingenuity, discipline, and ambition. From his father, he learned the family trade in smithing and swordsmanship. In that vein, he was eventually allowed to associate with some of the bigger names in the kingdom. Everyone wanted a blade from their family forge after all: including Duke Claudio Proguer. That was his window into higher society, how do you think he came to be retainer to his own daughter?

Still, with each step he took further into the culture of Ditania, he could feel a divide wedging itself between him and his Jussanian blood. He didn't have his mother around to show him very much anymore. That was why he resolved to teach himself everything he could about the Archipelago from which she hailed. Ichor spent any and all the money he earned from his time in the forge on materials in pursuit of study, any way he could connect with his mother. He took up tomes to learn the magic she invoked with such finesse, and he crafted armor and sewed up garbs to play into the image of an Aechon in what ways he could. It all paled in comparison to one of his greatest finds: esoteric sword artes. An ancient technique that had been lost even to his forefathers, what he'd unearth was perfect for him: Iaijutsu.
​
Name: Yakov, but I go by Steel as well!
Timezone/Nationality: American in the EST
Favorite Fire Emblem Game: Awakening. I'm a sucker for that Visual Novel nonsense.
RP Experience: Probably something along the lines of four years at this point?
 
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WIP
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Name: Lady Odette Katherine Bauford
Age: 32
Nation & Role: Ditania, Retainer to the Discerning Daughter.
Appearance:
Standing a fair 5ft 8in with a clear signs of her nobility in her stance and bearing, proud and aware of her who she is and what she has work with. She can shift effortlessly with a from the archetypical noble lady with expected demure and charm to an exposing and intimidating figure as the need arises. Her green eyes can be soft and welcoming, but also piercing and threatening when needed. In peace she wears the fine dresses expected of someone at her dresses, colourful with colours matching her red her which she let loose. In combat, she wears darker colours, mostly blacks grey and brown, with her hair tied up in a bony tail behind her. In both case, though, her clothing is form fitting to show off her curves, she dresses to cover as much of her body as possibly with only hints of skin, covering the scars left behind of her time as a prisoner during the civil war.
Class:
Thunder Mage
Stats:assign my stats for me
Level HP Strength Magic Skill Speed Defence Resistance
3 22 0 7 3 4 0 4
Inventory:
Thunder tome
Old ducal ring of her fathers (gives a resistance and defence boost for a sort time when used)
Vulnerary
Personality: A woman of few words but by no means shy or unwelcoming of company. She simply prefers to let other people speak and get the measure of her company before she puts in her input, seemingly thoughtful and careful with her words. She is somewhat of social chameleon, adjusting her tone and manner to the person or group she is speaking to with a light and friendly manner, with the odd smart or sardonic comment seemingly made in good jest. Brave and loyal to her friends and seemingly taking joy in doing subtle acts to improve their day or cause a smile without seeking recognition, with a keen eye to read people and get a measure of them.

There is a darker side to her nature, though. Her chameleon like manner and ability to read people has made her an affective manipulator, guiding her allies and enemies to her own ends. Though skilled in her ways, a perceptive person will find that she might never really seem to be open with anyone, seemingly keeping everyone at an arms length though she might be easy to get close with others. In addition, she can be ruthless, showing little capacity to forgive those considering her enemies and after what she cares of. She also seems to have a clear aversion to be touched, particularly from men, and has been known to lash at the lightest touch unless she truly close to a person.
Scheme:
Change - he current ducal rule of Ditania had only lead to scheming and civil war, with the country barely held together under current Duke Reagent. The system has to change for the sake of all and it would not be changed by those with the power to do so as they gain under the current system. She needs to guide change of her current system from within and her connection to the mightly.
Revenge - Months in dungeon, seemingly left to her fate by the supposed allies of her family had left her bitter to those she claims as he closes friends and allies particularly the current Duke Regent which she feels responsible for her extended imprisonment and failure to protect her family. Though her top goal is to change things and to do so she needs to keep her desire in check, she won't say no to the opportunity for real revenge.
Backstory:
Odette was born the second child and only daughter of Duke Prospero Bauford, powerful and well respected among the nobility. Also a close friend and later rival to the current Duke-Regent. The two Duke grew up together and were inseparable but things changed as the pair took on their respective dukedoms and had different view of the running of the country. For Odette this rivalry meant little, a spare heir and female, all that was really expected of her is to help marry into a useful alliance when she became of age. Stil she was willful cheeky and smart often runing rings around her elder brother who was more of typical soldier. She took great interest in magic and it's connection to dracomic oak. She even dreamed of traveling
to Meridania and studying under their master of magic. However for now the Ditania academy would do. Prospero dotted on his daughter, seeing something of himself in her even considering having her become duchess. It was said he already took her secretly under his wing and taught her how to rule.

During the civil war, despite their rivalry Duke Prospero and Duke Claudio found themselves as allies. The war seemed to rekindle some of their friendship as the two of them working together seemed to earn them victory after victory. Still as Duke Claudio's star rose so did Prospero and question soon became who would take the Regents position after the war. This seemed not to be a question in the minds of the two dukes at least not openly as the organised a strategy meeting in Duke Prospero's Castle along with some other allies. At that, most of the allies have gather accept from Duke Claudio who was delayed and Odette's brother who was commanding his father's troops in the front line. It was when tragedy struck, one of the allies had switched sides and orchestrated a raid of Prospero's castle. The meeting attendants were killed while Odette was taken prisoner in dungeon.

For Odette in a matter of one night had seemed to have lost everything, her family and home and she was stuck alone in dungeon facing worst the captor had to offer. She spend almost a year like this as no random was paid for her and no news of the outside world. It was as if she had been forgotten and left behind to the whims of the traitors. In the time, it allowed her to wonder how it happened, it made no sense to her. They were winning it wouldn't make sense for anyone to switch sides now. More importantly it was very convenient that Duke Claudio was delayed in his arrival.

Salvation did come in the end when Duke Claudio laid siege to the castle and eventually taking it after a couple of months. Her brother was the one who opened the dungeon door for her much to her joy and Duke Claudio seemed to treat her like his own rescued daughter. It was not long after the war ended and Odette spend the next year to recover and ger back into regular life. By that time her brother took over the duchy and a staunch ally of Claudio become Regent. Though she was well treated by Claudio who helped in her recovery, funded her studies and even offered her to tutor his daughter, her suspicions of him never really left. Also she had seen the devastation of the civil war and how it affected her people. Something had to change on the current system. She had a good position to influence the next generation and investigate her suspicions. She will bide her time until the ideal opportunity comes.
Other:
Relationship to Other Characters:
Leave blank in initial application. We will flesh this out when plotting together.

Writer Form
Name: Souvi
Pronouns: He/him
Timezone & Nationality: GMT/Cypriot
Favourite Fire Emblem Game: Awakening (my first)
RPing Experience: 10+
 
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    Princess Valdis Gazam
    Age: 24
    Nation & Role: Second Princess of Nortalis, accompanying the church's representative. (Retainer)

    Appearance: The shadow of Nortalian court, the second princess is tall, dark and dour. She’s rarely seen with a smile, her eyes always cold and judgemental. Even in the simple clothes she favors, Valdis cuts an imposing figure. She keeps her dark locks loose, or tied back, but never pinned up in the elegant braids of a lady.

    Scheming to Schism - While the corruption in the church runs deep, there are still those looking to do good. Though while they remain shackled to the Archbishop their power is limited. Though if there was enough unrest they may have cause to properly separate from the Archbishop. It’s Valdis job to seed this dissent and find allies for the newly burgeoning church.

Name: Jupiter! But Gamerkitty and GK work as well
Pronouns: They/them
Timezone & Nationality: EST and the USA
Favourite Fire Emblem Game: It’s a tad cliche, but I do love Three Houses. Though awakening holds a soft spot in my heart
RPing Experience: I have been roleplaying semi-regularly for the past... 7 years or so? Lots of group rp, a few 1x1 and the occasional ttrpg.
 
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Fourth Princess Beatrix Fortagon, Commander of the Knights Partinax

"By my hand, I execute my father's will. All units, charge! Give no quarter! Show no hesitation, no fear! The only mercy for our foe will be in the hereafter!"
​


  • Age:
    23

    Nation & Role:
    Kingdom of Sanghalo, Retainer

    Appearance:
    The fact that Princess Beatrix meets most standards of conventional beauty isn't talked about for a few reasons. First, she can be seen with armor donned and helmet on more often than not, even in public appearances. Second, even if her face is visible, it's often marred with a frigid expression in her eyes. A few battle scars line her body, mostly concentrated around her torso, arms, and shoulders. She stands tall at 6'1", with a lithe, athletic build.

    Personality:
    Loyal. Dedicated. Ruthless. Fourth Princess Beatrix is the tip of King Damaron's spear, ever surging forth to be the first into battle in her father's name. If something is asked of her for the sake of Sanghalo and the Fortagon line, she will stop at nothing to see it done. There is little she would balk at in that regard, and very few lines she would not cross in order to achieve her objectives. Beatrix Fortagon is a dedicated knight through and through. Barring an absolute decimation of the royal line, she will never even approach the position of heir of Sanghalo, but she continues to give her all to serve the throne nonetheless.

    On a personal level, she is cold, impersonal, and stoic. Nonetheless, she inspires loyalty among her own forces for her dedication to rewarding competence and fealty, treating her units as a meritocracy where she often promotes from within the ranks. Class, wealth, and other such inherited traits are only treated as tools by her in order to further genuine accomplishment, and she pays respect to those who lack such stepping stones and still succeed. Besides, commoner and blueblood alike are still subordinate to the will of Fortagon. What further distinction does she need?

    Furthermore, she holds to her word. If she swears an oath or makes a promise, she will not violate it. Ruthless and violent as Beatrix may be, she nonetheless has a rare reputation for honesty among the court.

    While she has no problem with underhanded measures per se, what Beatrix despises is intrigue for its own sake. She would be the first to state that there is no honor on the battlefield, but oftentimes, she finds courtly schemes and plots to be wastes of time when might and strategy will win the day more quickly. Poisoning the enemy's water supply on the eve of battle is just good tactics. Humiliating a rival in court solely to increase your own standing is a frivolous exercise in ego when a duel to the death could have eliminated the problem immediately, with no chance of the foe returning to haunt you.

    Moreover, Beatrix's strengths also influence her weaknesses. Thanks to her zeal in furthering Sanghalo's causes, she possesses a terrible reputation among the other nations as a warmonger and butcher. Her will and drive extend into outright pigheadedness at times, refusing to back down or pick her battles with a cooler head.

    Surely, someone like this would never be tasked to spy, of all things.

    Scheme:
    In the King's Name: Beatrix knows the intentions of King Damaron to a level few others can claim to, even among his royal heirs. Why she and her forces are accompanying her elder sister is unknown to almost all involved, but it's clear she knows more than she is letting on.

    Backstory:
    Nobody expected much from King Damaron Fortagon's fourth daughter. By the time Beatrix was born, he'd already had three sons and three daughters, the oldest already on the cusp of adulthood. Thus, an outside observer couldn't be blamed for thinking this girl could likely get away with resting on her laurels. Though it seemed no one told Beatrix herself. From the moment she was knighted and given her own small command, Fourth Princess Beatrix set about making her mark.

    She led the van in several of Sanghalo's incursions into Jussane, proving instrumental in the success of these as her shock troops scattered any initial resistance before them. In mere months and years, the previously-looked over seventh child of Damaron became the court's newest shining star. The size of her command increased, as did her responsibilities. Before long, she was traveling the length and breadth of the kingdom as an extension of the king's will.

    Chaos and rebellion threatened Sanghalo in the wake of the blight, and Beatrix was at forefront of quashing any dissent. She and her knights marched into the kingdom's outlying cities, enforced fair rationing and distribution of grain, and laid siege to any defiant aristocrats thinking of hoarding more than their share. More than one noble scion had their private retinues smashed and themselves put to the sword by Beatrix at this time, purely of her own initiative in enforcing peace and keeping the nation's tax base fed.

    It was upon her return from crushing a burgeoning rebellion in the far southern reaches of Ashreicht that her father gave Beatrix her latest directive: take her command and join in on the war effort in Ditania. Crush the schemes of those foreign bastards, the vultures that would be joining in, and ensure that the Duke's daughter had no one else to turn to for aid. Sanghalo needed Ditania's grain if it was to survive this blight.

    Beatrix obeyed and set off, though not without her own reservations. She understood her father's own scheme at once, of course: who would suspect his heavy-handed executioner of having a hidden agenda? Of course, this was new ground for her. Schemes were not her way, and doubts rose in her mind at her ability to execute her father's directive in the manner that he would have liked.

    That said, Beatrix had been given a direct order, and she would not fail, doubts or no doubts. Perhaps her own plots might fail, but should that happen, she will accomplish her father's orders in her own way. Woe be unto all should that come to pass.

 
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    Name: Sephonia Grum

    Age: 23

    Nation/role: Jussane Retainer. Former Knight of House Grum

    Appearance- Current knight of the royal family, former knight of House Grum standing tall at 6’1(184cm) Powerful build intimidating presence her body language is relaxed uninterested in current situations. Wearing a black vest with thick fur that reveal her muscular arms which are her pride and joy. Black pants baggy unable to define where her legs are exactly. Adorned not with gems but teeth from exotic Fauna and Fish standing out in any Castle that is Sephonia. Her eyes although a nice medium aquamarine seem to scan everyone in a room always looking for weaknesses. Her face is one of beauty which in a sick joke is contorted into a constant scowl when she isn’t talking. Her attire may be similar to that of a common bandit. When she has to accompany on a political venture she wears a typical blue officer uniform with white gloves and a blue officer cape ditching her teeth necklace for a normal steel ring she wears on her finger under her glove.

    1725869869146.jpeg

    Class: Brigand

    Personality: Sephonia Grum quite the nasty person people would say. Boorish, Unruly, Greedy, and Untrusting, shoving her way around or into conversation. Chivalrous would be the last word you would call her and even then you would never say it to her face. Despite all this she is quite intelligent knowing when to keep quiet and let others do the talking. Both on the battlefield and in discussions she uses no honor fighting using dirty tactics. Thinking that fighting with honor is what veterans with no creativity tell their squires.

    Though Untrusting of others she can come to trade agreements if resources were involved, but she won’t accept them immediately she wants to know everything. Where it’s coming from and how long it takes to produce and how it was produced. Collecting bit by bit all the info she can before she yanks it out of their hands, and into her greedy fingers. Her rough shell of a person can be too much for some people. She is loyal to a fault although not trusting the lords and ladies she oh so despises. She would never disagree with them unless it actively infringed on the kingdom. The royal family on the other hand makes her seem far too trusting. Following every order without hesitation, not caring for the how and why just that they wanted it done.

    Sephonia’s rough exterior seems indestructible, but has a few cracks in it though. She has a soft spot for People down on their luck and children, Believing the Prince to be both. Offering him unwavering loyalty despite her greedy nature to take everything. When she is in service to the prince she makes sure to act with manners. Walking, talking, introducing, Everything changes as she doesn’t want to embarrass the prince or make negotiations fall through cause they have a thug in their retinue.

    Scheme to Obtain: Her goal is to forwardly try to take resources in agreements, or through combat. Making Ditania a prime target and Sanghalo a less lovely target. their ideal situation that this plays out is robbing other nations of resources. Making their trade power drop and or cutting them off from food making war unsustainable. Meanwhile making Sephonia all the more richer.

    Sephonia grew up an only child on the Aechon Archipelago it was quite beautiful and a very scenic vacation spot. Granted it was also filled with nobles looking for time away from work where they can let their masks slip. They didn't care what happened on the archipelago, cause most people born on the archipelago would never have enough money to leave. Ship was the only way to leave and the nobles would make trips to and from the archipelago cost a fortune while they line the pockets of the captains and crews of those said ships. Sephonia didn't know much of what was going on, but did her best to help her parents secure their living, catching fish and chopping wood and hunting for a modest living separate from the world out there.

    Years past now 17 money continued to get tighter and tighter as less and less people visited the Archipelago. Nobles visit all the time but never buy their products, meanwhile bringing invasive Flora and Fauna to destroy the fragile ecosystem unintentionally. Sephonia had enough! Everything beautiful and dear to her ruined cause of people with too much money. Sickening it was but she had a plan, a bad one but one that would get her off this place. She would hang around the docks working as hired muscle most would deny her since they already had some. Later when the "Client" would have their hired muscle lured away by Sephonia and have a fun spar, well fun for her. The "Client" would get robbed and all their valuables taken. This is when Sephonia found out the effectiveness of Hammers, becoming her signature weapon. She didn't need to win she just needed to stall till the job was done which gave her amazing training practice.

    For a while the small community prospered with the ill-gotten gains and Sephonia now 20 reveled in it till getting an odd request for a noble who showed up with nobody just himself. Wanting to hire Sephonia permanently believing she was the ringleader of the crime happening. Effectively chopping the head of the snake, as well as gaining a bright ally in a single action. Sephonia agreed to his offer and sailed back to the mainland. The noble taught everything she needed to know about the world away from her little nook. 2 long years of studying and etiquette training rarely letting her train her body something she was proud about. Once it was all over she hated the whole process, hating the long sleepless nights, anything that could agitate her was on the table to see if she would break and every time she did it wasn’t pretty. Now it was all over but it felt horrible being gentle and nice sickening it all was. She wanted a chance to leave House Grum.

    Soon her chance was coming up The noble she worked in service of misdeeds have came to light all the awful things he did outside of his guise, but to get out of imprisonment he offered up her contract to the royal family as collateral for their misdeeds. Surprisingly to even Sephonia they accepted as Sephonia now in service to the royal family, along with that the noble is now cleared of their misdeeds free to walk. Which made Sephonia furious but such is the way of Jussane and their laws. Now a retainer for the royal family, she turned her focus outwards ready to defend her homeland from all invaders and make a little gold on the side.
 
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  • Weweee.png
    Name: Rosaline Proguer Etalus
    Age: 18
    Nation & Role: Dukedom of Ditania, The Discerning Daughter
    Appearance: The sole daughter of Duke Claudio bears his striking silver hair. Her expression embraces solemnity and calmness with sharpened eyes. Words of the Duke's daughter often describe her as a white rose, innocent but deceiving. As she reaches the end of her growth, Rosaline reaches a respectful height of 5'5. Although she comes across as delicate, her hands sport callouses that tell of her training.
    Personality:
    As the daughter of the newly elected Duke of Etalus, Rosaline is portrayed as a noble woman who embodies all virtues of one. It is through Rosaline's efforts that she tries to project these elements for her father. Through training and discipline, Rosaline often conceals how she feels and makes decisions that are best for the family. She demands respect and discipline equal to her own. Her composure is ironclad and is able to ward off the fear that comes from inexperience. There is no need for hesitation, only the consequence that comes with each action.

    However Rosaline is not a woman, just a girl. Brittle iron can made into a blade, but Rosaline isn't refined enough to become that blade. Rosaline is soft hearted and self-conscious on how her actions may be perceived to others. Though these traits are suppressed by her desire to uphold her family's status as the daughter of the Duke. She has complicated feelings regarding her father. One of strictness yet affection. Although he had shown her nothing but discipline, she still hopes to make him proud. It is nothing more than a simple of dream of a child.

    With immense responsibility and fears, she imposes strict standards and arbitrary distances to the people around her. From innocent requests to absurd demands, Rosaline isn't afraid of throwing tests at people to see how far they would go for her favor. She doesn't hide behind her age, but brandishes her title proudly as the Representative of House Etalus. Those who do not know their place quickly remember who she is.

    Rosaline isn't afraid to be cruel, perhaps it is a trait that she deems necessary. Taking reference to the other lords of Ditania, Rosaline would not hesitate in a decision if it meant that she would gain an upperhand. Destroying her own supplies to prevent enemies from taking them, or leaving a foreign ally behind if it proved to be too cumbersome. Even if it comes at the expense of her allies, it would be a small sacrifice to pay for House Etalus. Yet, there is a feeling of remorse when the pressure finally fades away from her young mind.

    Scheme:
    Scheming to Secure

    Backstory:
    The Daughter of Claudio Proguer, born during the ending years of the recent Ditania Civil War. Her mother had passed away when she was young and was often left in care of the maids or nannies. Her father had been absent and had only given instruction to educate the young daughter for the servants. It had been a lonely existence but not unbearable. Although the servants were standoffish, Rosaline found solace in the garden that was cultivated by her late mother. It felt that she was here even if Rosaline hardly had any memories of her.

    Though it changed once her father had returned back from the business he had attended. Rosaline had expected many things from her father. A warm smile, infectious laughter, or an embrace that could melt away the winter. All Rosaline received was a look of acknowledgement before he moved on to matters that needed his attention. An impression that Rosaline couldn't erase, even when she grew older and understood the context of his mood back then.

    Soon education was combined with rigorous training. Rosaline hardly found time for herself and dreams barely came to her. Her father often trained in the art of the sword and found an instructor for pegasi training. There was little time to think for herself as she went through the routines and exercises. The problems excaberated when politics and economics were introduced to her. Rosaline at the age of fifteen would understand the purpose of these lessons.

    A reception where all the Dukes attended. Enough people to fill the entire room was a spectacle to Rosaline. People in droves came to chat with the daughter of Duke Etalus. Men from all noble standings came to greet her, their sons vying for her attention, and their daughters trying to connect to her. All of it was incredibly superifical, an underlying intent to gain from talking. Rosaline kept her composure and played her part as the perfect daughter until she met her uncle.

    If the nobles were concealing their intent then her uncle, the Count of Dona, made his malice explicitly known. Insults hidden in compliments, chides as sharp as blades, and jealousy that burned within his eyes. It took Rosaline all her composure before the man was brought over to her father. Although her uncle's words were malicious, they were not wrong.

    She was lacking and must make up for it. At the age of 15, she made a promise to herself. That she would uphold her house's reputation and maintain it until she was worthy to take the position of Duke. Though little did she know in three years that such responsibility would fall into her hands so soon.

 
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  • Name: Konrad Bar Kastellan

    Age: 34

    Nation & Role: Jussane Retainer

    Appearance: Standing at a height of 5’10, Konrad is a reasonably handsome man with dark brown eyes equal in color to his brown hair. Despite having a hard face the ever present smile helps to disarm anyone who may be put off by him. His body is a bulky build with well toned muscles earned through decades of training and years in battle.

    Personality : Konrad is a dutiful man with a pleasant nature at heart. He completes any task given to him promptly and as near perfection as could be expected of him, he constantly carries a smile on his face, and he is always one to engage in conversation no matter the time or place. He is humble with nobles/royalty, respectful to fellow warriors, and kind towards commoners. None may question his loyalty to his two loves, his country and his harp. Yes Konrad has a taste for music. While not a master at the craft he took to the harp as a method of solace after a particularly bloody skirmish and has kept it up ever since. He is everything you could have wanted from a warrior… on the surface at least.

    Underneath the man stirs something darker and more devious. After all, who would you spill your secrets to, the man brooding in the corner, or the smiling face who is always there to lend you an ear when needed? Who would you least expect to harbor traitorous thoughts, the lone commander or the warrior fighting side by side with you battle after battle? What country is it that Konrad really loves? Is it the great kingdom of Sanghalo of which he has spent his life in joyful service to… or is it his one and only home… Faust?

    Alongside the devious nature comes a sense of paranoia. How can Konrad trust anyone when he knows how he himself is, he can't. His whole life he has been surrounded by people that would kill him with a single order, and that has installed a deep fear of those around him. That makes his interactions even more complicated as if he has know one to trust he despite his outward appearance will never fully have anyone's back, nor will he have anyone to cover his. He has forced himself onto a fine line of a path, stuck following the image he has so carefully made for himself while at the same time feeling trapped under the same pressures that image places on him.

    Scheme: Aid in strengthening the connection between Jusanne and Dittiana. If given the opportunity he wishes to find some kind of way to twist the situation to damage the Kingdom of Sanghalo, allowing for a return to the breakaway Barons.

    Backstory:
    Hailing from the woodland barony of Faust, Konrad belongs to the proud Bar Kastellan family. At the time he was born he was the second son to the Baron in one of it’s many periods of independence from the larger Kingdom. Being second in line for the Barony Konrad had a bright future in front of him, but fate decided it was not to be. At the age of four his family's lands were recaptured for the kingdom once more and as a token of submission Konrad was sent to live in the royal capitol as a hostage. He would not be a prisoner, but a proud son of Sanghalo, raised as a warrior and taught as much propaganda as they could to create the loyal son of the Faust Barony. Perhaps his overlords thought to put him forward as the Baron when his father died, or perhaps they just wanted the security his presence gave them. Regardless it would shape him into the man he would become for either the kingdom’s betterment, or maybe perhaps for the worst.

    As soon as he was old enough to take part in battle he was sent to the frontline, participating in multiple campaigns against the other kingdoms he would eventually reach the toughest point of his life. The blight would claim the lives of many, and his father was one of them. With his father’s death Konrad’s brother became the baron of Faust. The man flirted with rebellion however backed down when the life of Konrad was threatened. That moment, that singular glimpse of time where he stood at the gallows, a rope around his neck while his brother knelt and renewed his values of loyalty all while his young nephew watched, will be ingrained in his heart forever.

    After the Barony of Faust was brought back to heel, Konrad was redeployed in battle after battle, but he was never the same after the gallows incident. While he loved his homeland of Faust, he had now come to fully accept that he was expendable tool in the eyes of Sanghalo. If he was ever going to make a difference for his home it would not be from within. He took the ultimate risk and defected to Jussane. At first he was treated with distrust, how could any put faith in a traitor? It was his outwardly good nature, insider information, and deeds on the battlefield that one him the respect he craved. Always conscious of the eyes watching him he has yet to falter in service in his new nation of Jussane, but his heart still aches for one thing above all else. The recent trouble with Dittania has presented an opportunity, if Jussane can out do the other nations and secure the cooperation of the Dittanians, then it could place him once step closer to his goal, freedom for Faust.
 
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Millicent Fortagon

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  • Age:

    26

    Nation & Role:

    Sanghalo, the Spying Scion

    Appearance:

    Upon first look, Millicent is easily mistaken as masculine, with a strong jaw and wide nose, and a worn gaze shadowed by dark circles. Her height at 5'5 gives away she is not like the men of her country, but her stance and strong physique still maintain the warrior's aura she often seeks to portray. Boasting beige skin and a constellation of freckles across her cheeks and shoulders, it's evident Millicent spends much more of her time outside under the intense gaze of the sun than twiddling her thumbs inside any fortress. She is not averse to fine silk or flowing dresses - in fact, it's a guilty pleasure for her - but most of the time she dons furs, armour, or other practical clothing. Notably, she wears a ruby locket that she always keeps close to her and often plays with.

    Personality:

    Millicent presents herself as a strong and assertive woman, unshakable in the face of danger, stoic in the presence of mockery, most importantly, proud. She carries herself with the respect that she believes she deserves, not because of her status nor the need to be liked. She does not bawl at the idea that people dislike her, and does not go out of her way to be liked, and brings her honest opinions to the table. People see what they want to see after all, and it is a fact she cannot change.

    Her capability for showing emotion is at an incredibly low end of the scale. Her expressions usually cycle through anger, annoyance, boredom, or another passive or negative emotion. Her rough and tough demeanour has been cited as intimidating, and it is a feat that runs within her line that she chooses to make use of.

    Many claim that Millicent does not smile. Untrue, but a rarity indeed, as she keeps a lid on her emotions. She has learned from a young age that vulnerability is a weakness, one’s guard should never be lowered. It is a shield one must haul, and much like a shield, uses it to keep her cards close to her chest. Her control of her mental state extend outside of her and to her environment, eager to take and keep control of situations when she is not wanted to.

    Though fearful pictures have been painted of Millicent, she is not considered ‘unkind’, if you consider how she acts around those she trusts and is allied with. She has respect towards those who impress her with their strength and willpower - physical or otherwise - and will defend and protect those she is allied with. She simply seeks to lead others, and herself, to success.

    Scheme:

    Scheming to Spy

    Backstory:

    Millicent’s childhood was competitive and serious, despite being one of the older children among a handful of siblings. You did not earn King Damaron’s love, but rather, his respect and tolerance, and that took a culmination of hardiness and strength in your character. Millicent learned from a young age to temper her emotions, after watching her father criticise her siblings’ hysterics and snot-nosed pleads for help when a brother shoved another sibling.

    How Millicent gained her father’s respect was through the age-old tradition of ‘Griffon Taming’, the rite of passage for Griffon Knights, where a knight had to tame their own Griffon in the wild. The young princess, 11 at the time of this rite of passage, had her eyes on such a position ever since she watched her mother mount and fly her own winged creature.

    Though she managed to wrangle the creature and mount it, the griffon, stubborn as its kin, bolted off and took to the air. Though it tried every way it could to buck her off, Millicent persisted and held on as best she could. Eventually, the Griffon landed, and when met by her father and her men, she dismounted the creature with no tears, no hassle. Pride beamed from King Damaron’s face that day, while the hands behind her back trembled at the ordeal. It was best she hid it. She had won that day, after all; her own Griffon, and her father’s respect.

    Eventually growing to be a strong and capable warrior, her father gave her leave to attend to more military pursuits, particularly with the rising crime and thievery taking and rebellions taking place in their borders. With this, however, she also grew to be a wilful young woman. Though she craved approval in her heart, and maintained a ‘healthy fear’ of her father when she was younger, she became ever more intent on doing what she wanted, what she thought was the right course of action, than following the scripture her father laid out for her.

    One such example included the seizure of Jussane territory in Sanghalo’s ever continuing expansion into the west. Rather than have all those there immediately slaughtered, Millicent gave soldiers and citizens a different choice when their backs were against the wall. It was to fight alongside them or serve by other means, and they would be rewarded for their compliance. She was no stranger to violence with her axe being unclean as it was, and she most certainly was no saint in Sanghalo’s excursions but she did not seek to use it so mindlessly. She would not waste strong minds or bodies. Strength was a component needed in all areas of leadership after all.

    Other such rebellions included taking the initiative (not following orders) in military excursions, being argumentative with her then commanders, and so on. It was not unusual for there to be outbursts between father and daughter behind closed doors.

    Given her unorthodox methods and underhanded rebelliousness, she was eventually moved into reconnaissance, tasked with the command of a small number of soldiers to gather more information on Jussane and its territory. Though Millicent was aggrieved by her father’s actions, she still took to the leadership of the smaller squad as easily as a fish to water. She felt free in doing so, having more independence and power to carry out the duties of her nation in the way she liked. Even if she did retain an intimidating, no-nonsense leader attitude, she maintained a close bond with those in her squadron, and though carried a close friendship with them, still withheld vulnerability and emotion.

    Not all of Millicent’s missions have ended in success. A reconnaissance mission deep into Jussain territory and a headstrong action performed by the princess spelled the loss of a member of her squadron, captured by Jussain soldiers, their status unknown. Though it was simply a loss of a soldier to Sanghalo, easily replaceable, Millicent believed it to be much more; she had lost a comrade, not simply an underling. She still feels deep shame at the event.

    Despite such a setback, her father now sees fit to send her even further afield, but for a different mission altogether. She accepted, knowing the land was dying, the people were starving. Even she could be moved by the situation and unease in their home. Though she wondered about the scale of her father’s ambitions, and further, the blooming of her own.

    Other: Her Griffon’s name is Paidia!

 
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Emil zu Rittfort, Captain of the Windemere Lancers


  • Name:
    Albert Emil Edward of House Venier-Rittfort

    Age:
    22

    Nation & Role:
    Kingdom of Sanghalo, Retainer

    Appearance:
    standing at 5’6” Emil doesn’t strike a particularly imposing figure, combined with his love of keeping his hair long, he has been the subject of some mistakes of identity. He’s fond of wearing elaborate clothes when off-the field, most often in the House’s traditional colours of black and white that is accented by the addition of the Sanghalan Red. His usually glowering expression is scarcely inviting, with cold golden eyes that seem to scrutinise anything and anyone but perhaps it’s best not to judge a book by its cover.

    Personality:
    Emil zu Rittfort remains a person that is at odds with himself. Contrasting to his harsh gaze, Emil’s a soft-spoken and rather subdued person, always courteous with his words and calm in his demeanour, certainly not the type you’d imagine leading charges. Few have heard the lordling raise his voice in anger, even fewer have heard him ever shout, maybe with the exception of his siblings and close-friends.
    He carries himself with an air of regality, despite his status as a relatively impoverished aristocrat. With an aloof attitude he plays the part of a good. In part the act masks his shyness and the fish-out-of-water situation he finds himself in while attending to the higher-nobility, with their labyrinthine cities and odd customs.

    Despite this underlaid shyness, he remains a gregarious person; instinctively seeking the company of others. Perhaps as a result of having grown up with such a large family, now scattered across the realm. As such, he tends to view the few friends he has much akin to family (with a good portion being distant family anyways, thanks aristocratic bloodlines.) and is fiercely loyal to them, willing to fight and even die for their sake if it comes to it because the evils of Reverus aren’t taking any more of his people under his watch. Among their company he tends to be much more expressive, with that grimace giving way to content smiles and the formal tone replaced by warmth

    He is quite firm in his conviction that the Highborne ought to live up to the standard that their noble blood carries. To him they ought to always adhere to the codes of chivalry and lead with a fair if firm hand and protect tradition, and he tries his best to live up to it.
    He remains a devout follower of Xios in the good old Northern Way, emphasising honesty, punctuality, order and diligence both in daily life and in service of the higher power. Teachings that had been instilled on him since early childhood.

    Emil is naturally curious, with a curious glint to those golden eyes, about everything and nothing that relates to Reverus’ its history, countless mysteries, of cultures that inhabit it and the people who rule them. Which played a part in his demand to seek formal education.

    He has no particular love for war that his countrymen seem to yearn for so much, to him it’s an affair that should be but the last resort. He’d rather keep his equestrian leanings as a hobby, best kept to patrolling the vast expanse of Northern Windemere than to bring a tide of death and destruction on his path.

    For all his rather liberal views in comparison to the blatant jingoism of Sanghalo’s nobility, Emil retains certain viewpoints that are common among the nation, such as the divine and absolute right to rule of the Nobility. He remains extremely proud of his noble heritage and ties. His attitude towards the commoners of Reverus is best could be described as condescending at the best of times and outright abusive at worst but more often than not he views them with cold indifference as long as they show the common decency of knowing their place.
    A major problem for him ever since boyhood has been the issue of indecisiveness, his clashing views often leaving him at an impasse about what to prioritise. Honour before reason? Compassion before justice? For this reason he remains a person that is easily influenced when people humour his beliefs and steer him one way or the other.


    Scheme:
    To Reform. For Emil Sanghalo is an Autocracy in name only with the King unable to control the vast stretches of land he theoretically rules as sovereign and the Barons that swear fealty upon him and cower in fear of his armies remain too busy with bickering amongst themselves, plotting to rise above one another or sowing dissent against the Kingdom itself, the incompetent fools can’t even maintain order within their lands. What Sanghalo needs is a leader who can maintain and protect its vassals.

    Backstory:
    Born to the Lordly House of Venier-Rittfort, The noble house ruled over a series of estates running from the Windermere’s border with Northwall to the edge of Faust. The creation of the house is still in living memory, when a Jussanian House inherited the land through marriage, war was only averted with the arbitration of the church with the Lord of House agreeing to give the land to his second son, who’d renounce his claims in Jussane and swear fealty to the Baron of Windermere.

    Emil was born as the Third and final son of then heir to the house and current reigning Lord Albert, both a blessing and curse as while he was never quite likely to inherit their main holdings, it also spared him a strictly controlled upbringing that his elders were subject to

    Northern Windermere remained a harsh-land to tame, during the severe winters, a young Emil bore witness to his Lordly Grandfather’s complaints about how inheriting the land had been more of a curse than anything, telling tales of his home where such concerns did not exist, Emil’s own father, who no doubt had been raised with such tales had no such complaints as he had no nostalgia but he did have one thing, resentment in abundance. Against the main branch of the family, who had robbed them of all their ancestral inheritance and sent them off to this accursed land to rule over serfs barelly eking out an existence.

    He took a shine to horse-riding from an early age, a skill that came quite handy when your family ruled across little more than a frozen steppe.
    He was brought along to his father’s numerous trips across the courts and estates of their relatives across the border, travelling through the vast countryside of Jussane, and even visiting the capital. All these travels, seeing the more idyllic, downright pastoral lifestyle combined with the stories of his early childhood left a deep fascination for the country in the young noble, and perhaps deep down also festered the generation-long resentment too.

    As the situation in Windemere deteriorated, he was sent to pursue his higher education in an official capacity in the West, in the Capital city of Jussane instead of the Baronial Capital. And what a culture shock it was, while he was used to the considerably less strict attitude of the Jussanian Nobility it still didn’t compare to the abundantly expressive and cosmopolitan environment the city offered. He certainly made some interesting and questionable friends along the way, certainly the sort that would have been frowned upon back in the old country.His stint here would have a lasting effect on his personal philosophy.

    When he was sixteen, he was called back into the country with urgency, albeit the letter did not specify why, so he made his preparations and left for home, expecting to come back and finish his studies. Unbeknownst to him at the time, it would be a one-way trip.

    He only learned of what had happened when he stood before the smouldering ruins of his home. The peasants had revolted across Windermere, going on a bloody rampage against the local nobility, killing anyone that they could get a hold of, manorial estates burnt down to nothing, including the the eponymous Rittfort estate that he had been born and spent his early childhood in. All the help that refused to join the mob were killed on the spot, his grandfather and two sisters were lynched with the luckily rest of the family was spared the same fate by being elsewhere at the time, By the time order could be restored, the Grand Estate was a bunch of ruins. The event confirmed and deepened the young noble’s bias and disdain towards the common people.

    While Emil and his siblings toiled endlessly to rebuild and restore their lands to a semblance of their former glory under the watchful eye of their father, ill-tidings struck once more. Relations between Sanghalo and Jussane were always tense, and the Barons of Windermere were always looking for opportunities to expand their domain ever-westwards; however with the tense and troubling home-situation with blight and revolts, an outright war came as a surprise to many, especially the affected houses like that Emil’s own. Yet they answered the call as it was their sacred duty.

    Gathered together on the plaza of the Baron’s Castle, the Manor Lords and their levies were subjected to a lengthy and fiery speech, whereupon the Baron blamed the Jussanian Monarchy, exporting their radical sentiments across the border to ferment dissent against the ancien regime of Sanghalo, whether the accusation was true or not in reality did not matter, some one had to be blamed and better the ‘other’ than the Baron’s own incompetence and it worked splendidly, the plaza roared with the calls for war and revenge, even the usually calm Emil joined the chants and soon they would descend upon their prey like the proverbial hounds they were.

    Despite their joint outrage, with their questionable ancestry and strong ties to the enemy, the Rittforts didn’t make for trustworthy bannermen so the Baron of Windemere kept the sons of the Lord as captives under the guise of having them serve in his personal guard, kept under close-watch to ensure loyalty. Ever the fast rider, young Emil was assigned to the Baron’s light cavalry, tasked with the reconnaissance and raiding and so he would make his return to Jussanian territory, this time bearing arms.

    Over the six years since that day, he has served the Baron against the enemy, though the roaring fire of revenge has smouldered and some questions arose, he has continued to do his duty that his oath of fealty obliges him to do.

    It is under these circumstances that he and his men were loaned out to serve the Princess as the equestrian contingent of her honour guard, a considerably prestigious spot for a noble of his standing, even if it’s for a junior member of the royal family.



 
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  • Name: Vittorio Salieri
    Age: 25
    Nation & Role: Nortalis Retainer
    Appearance: Vittorio is a lean, almost gaunt man whose disposition seems closer to a hare than a squire. He walks tall, but his steps are clumsy and directionless--they only stabilize in the company of the church and prestigious nobles. His face is never stern nor his lips down turned; he carries warm eyes and a disarming smile. He is quick to open a door, quick to catch a falling object, and quick to speak (sometimes a bit too quick). Coupled with skin that never tans and colorless hair, he is often mistaken for a starving monk when donning the clothes of commoners (rare as those instances may be).
 
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1bbbdac4820ef612bb621da3d8c99ad0.jpg



Bishop Giuliano De'Rovere


  • Name:
    Giuliano De'Rovere

    Age:
    42

    Nation & Role:
    Regal Nortalis, The "Cunning Cleric"

    Appearance:
    Giuliano De’Rovere is a tall individual, standing at 6’4” or 193 cm. His hair is an aging bouquet of dandelions, holding neither their brilliant luster of youth nor any strong character among their individual stands. Brittle and ever closer to whitening. His eyes are a shallow green, brown lingering at their edges, with a nose hooked downwards and pallid. Angled cheekbones lead to a pointed chin, covered in a tuft of offending hair ever as brittle as what can be found on his head. Often, Guliano De’Rovere was compared to a majesty falcon or eagle in his youth. Now it is the vulture to which others associate with Giuliano, to his consternation.

    Much of this man is legs—dainty and thin as they were, telling of this man’s work over the years. He keeps himself minimally in shape, conscious of his figure and appearance. His skin lingers on the pale side but with a powder made from numerous minerals found in the Acheon Archipelago, Giuliano De’Rovere coats himself in a youthful, tan tint. With a deep voice matching his stature, Giuliano De’Rovere is an accomplished Tenore in the Church’s choir, ever so generous to offer his voice to another’s ears.

    Personality:
    “Faith breeds necessity, but one cannot build faith on faith alone—only with the spread of commerce, the ever-present tool of our enemy, can we bring others under the light of Xios.” — Bishop Giuliano De’Rovere, speaking to a cloister of seminarians.

    As all proper bishops of the faith, Giuliano De’Rovere considers avarice as one of the cardinal failings of man, an illness left on them by the deceiver god. Every man must do their best to overcome this struggle and ultimately, the best way to liberate oneself from the contemptible claws of greed is to surrender one’s wealth to the Church. For De’Rovere is certain of one thing, only men of the Faith have the dignity and strength of will can handle evil temptations such as avarice.

    That summarizes much of De’Rovere’s views on the world. Men are weak creatures that will turn to sin invariably. Even the strongest among them, the nobility, cannot stop this descent. Only the Faith of Xios has proven to redeem those thought beyond redemption, build back stronger that which has been torn asunder. Only those who have been educated and blessed by the Church are truly beyond the failings of man. For those who turned their back on the Faith or who profane it, De’Rovere has nothing but scorn. Were it in his power, De’Rovere would have all such fellows stricken to their knees and forced to beg forgiveness.

    Beyond the arrogant demure that coats De’Rovere’s being, the man truly believes that his actions benefit others—any pain they must deal with is temporary, they will recover stronger than before with Xios’ aid at their side. He is not without compassion but his generosity towards those who do not surrender to the Church of Xios is extremely limited. If someone refuses to do what’s best for themselves, despite his repeated suggestion otherwise, De’Rovere will unleash his scorn upon them. He holds genuine pity for children or mothers who are in need of the Church’s support, emotionally, physically, or mentally. But he does not consider the weeping of men to be worth his time.

    In the area of leisure, De’Rovere is a man who enjoys the arts. He participates in the Church Choir, practicing yearly for the Feast Day of Xios, ready to unleash his devotion onto the masses. De’Rovere is also known to enjoy being painted over a glass of wine. Giuliano has a fondness for animals, specifically cats. He’ll go out of his way to slip animal’s food from the table, uncaring for how undignified it was. Similarly, he’ll bring home a few new cats to his cathedral whenever on journeys. Giuliano is a well read man, keeping himself up to date on the on-goings of the continent and prides himself on being able to hold intelligent conversations, referencing long dead philosophers with the frequency of a man looking only for acknowledgement.

    On his own person, Giuliano De’Rovere has issues upholding many promises. His vows to the Church have all been broken at one point in time, though Giuliano will never confess to such heretical crimes. Swears made on his honor have rusted and fallen away from his mind, lost in verdant gardens long overgrown with neglect. The Bishop is rarely intentional when forsaking himself, this comes at a habit of De’Rovere choosing what benefits himself over others, a majority of the time. Should a widow need his charity for months to come, De’Rovere will stay. And if the opportunity for his reputation to grow should arise elsewhere… Well, Giuliano will slink away quietly. De’Rovere, on occasion, does self-reflect on his worse habits but will inevitably justify his behavior with his religion. Why, if Xios was forever done with Giuliano, then surely his position would be forfeit? Yet he retains it. It not only signals that Xios has forgiven Giuliano, but that there is still much work left undone that only he can accomplish.

    Scheme:
    To convince the Duke Claudio to accept the Church’s assistance, leading to political and monetary gain for the Church of Xios. Giuliano likewise seeks to gain great influence in Etalus with designs on eventually getting ownership over the Draonic Oak trees.

    Backstory:
    Under the shadows of Meridania’s Dune’s, the village of Chatillon languished under poverty and banditry. While never great, a century ago, Chatillon was a noteworthy bump in the road between Sfanti and Meridana’s oasis capital. Trade was frequent and the failing of local crops never led to starvation, traders had foodstuff for Chatillon coin. But once the Cathedral of Chatillon was constructed, the Church of Xios’ grip in the roadstop firmly established, the wealth of this village was funneled from its inhabitants and outlying farmers, to the Cathedral itself. Between weekly offerings, penance for a price and later an aggressive Cathedral fee, the Church bled Chatillon. In two generations, the village saw its wealth and population drop by nearly half. Yet the Church officials kept coming, building monuments to their draconic deity, new murals dotting the innards of the colossal Cathedral. Any voice who spoke too loudly against the bishop’s actions were flogged publicly for a first offense.

    The second offenses were numerous and depended on the severity of them, but De’Rovere recalls it always concluded with something being removed.

    The third offense was the final offense—Bishop Decanti declared the illiterate serf a heretic and they were taken away.

    By the time Giuliano was a young lad, his home was no longer open to merchants. Outlaws and highwaymen made the roads unsafe. This, coupled with the lack of coin, led to eventual famines for Chatillon. Nothing but home to the Cathedral, this village was decaying day by day. He and his friends witnessed debauchery and thievery at a young age, with no authority in the area capable of stopping these criminals. It was unsafe to linger in public, worse at night. Giuliano only recalls one area being free from the filth of the bandits.

    The Cathedral.

    He and his friends, his family as well, would often venture across town and the outlying hills to the Cathedral. They’d spend days hearing homilies in other languages, hymns and prayers of the choir filling the air. De’Rovere thought it a comfortable place to be, though others were simply seeking shelter.

    De’Rovere fell in love with the Church in his youth. He saw it in stark contrast to the town he grew up in, neat, organized, intelligent. Whereas his mother never learned to read and his father had developed unsavory habits to pass the time. Looking for any means of staying longer, De’Rovere’s career as a singer would start here, joining the Choir at the age of ten. Soon, a missionary would take notice of De’Rovere’s long hours in the Cathedral and take the youth under his wing. Giuliano learned to read, he learned how to conduct himself in public and private. At one point in time, he was even allowed to assist a priest in mass.

    It would be of no shock to his community when, at the age of 15, De’Rovere had taken an offer to be inducted into the order. It would involve seminal schooling, further education in Sfanti, alongside much tutelage across the continent. Both nerve wracking and unbelievably inspiring, Giuliano stepped out of his decaying village and fell into the Church of Xios.

    So in love with the Church at this point, De’Rovere inhaled their contradictions and the hypocritical actions he witnessed without a second to doubt it. He was educated further, he was taught greater sciences and the history of his continent. More languages were impressed into his head in an effort to master them all. De’Rovere was a canvas for the Church of Xios to paint whatever they wished upon him.

    And in shy of 11 years, De’Rovere would become a fully fledged cleric of the Faith. Aged 26, Giuliano fell into the world as a missionary cleric of Xios. He would travel for years, aiding those in need or wandering to better impress the faith on others. Noting his dedication by age 30, De’Rovere would be rewarded with a priesthood and a Cathedral all his own, back in Chatillon.

    It was both a relief and a burden to return home, to see familiar faces, unwanted memories flirted with his heart. His success came at a realization he long forgot—his home continued to decay. In the 15 years since he left, the Cathedral no longer hosted a Bishop, deemed unimportant, with the funds to support the construct dwindling. The Church opted to send what they could back to Sfanti, letting the symbol of their power suffer neglect.

    De’Rovere was to keep the coins flowing, an ever challenging task. Those who remembered him were mixed on Giuliano’s arrival but soon found cause to layer him with baleful glares. They assumed, since Giuliano was one of them, he may look after them. However, he was little different than his predecessors. De’Rovere smiled to his old friends, ate with his surviving siblings and did his best to become familiar with Chatillon despite their resentment. A part of him wanted to reconnect, in an effort to build ties between them. A petulant part of Giulliano’s mind was showing off instead. He made it, he was successful, they were now his peasantry, insomuch as he was concerned.

    What separated Giuliano from those who came before him was the man’s quick mind. He heard of his village’s splendor a century back, springing from the safety of the road. Seeing the opportunity in front of him, the priest took for himself gold bound for the Archbishop and hired mercenaries from Meridania.

    Cheap and more morally flexible than alternatives, De’Rovere set his mercenaries upon a singular objective; Keep the roads safe within twenty miles of the village. The mercenaries provided some added measure, but the outlaws were of local stock, they could always hide away and wait for the mercenaries to leave, for their priestly interloper’s pockets to run dry. After a month of marginal results, De’Rovere changed his orders.

    If any man, woman or child is seen on the road past curfew, then his mercenaries are to deliver them Xios’ justice.

    As De’Rovere anticipated, this got results. Attacks on traders became less frequent until they altogether disappeared, fearful of becoming yet another example for Giuliano’s Carrion Guard. These mercenaries often times did not even meet highwaymen as they patrolled, but wanderers, traders, simple people making their way from one neighbor’s home to their own. These innocents were victim to the spear and their bodies taken to decorate the central square of Chatillon, kept even as flies and crows swarmed their corpses. The bloody limits of Giuliano’s ax had yet to be tested, however.

    Within a few years, trade trickled back through his village. The tithes to his Archbishop grew as did the grandeur of the Cathedral, all at the neglect of the common folk. Once it was restored to its former glories, De’Rovere himself was given full governorship of it, being called back to Sfanti to be formally recognized as a Bishop.

    So pleased was he, De’Rovere left immediately, the first time he would be traveling so far in his 5 years as the priest of his home village. While at the capital, De’Rovere underwent the ceremony, being appointed a Bishop of the Faith, those of Chatillon stewed with resentment and a few horrid decisions would damn them.

    It started with a handful of drunks antagonizing one of De’Rovere’s Carrion Guard—his mercenary force—whilst the Meridanian was by his lonesome at the only inn around. Harsh words and more than a few curses flew from the drunkards until the mercenary rose with a silent, cold hatred. The drunks rose to meet the mercenary outsider, fighting in front of every patron. One of the drunks found his nose shattered and in a rage, his neighbor stabbed the mercenaries throat with a fork. Overcome with emotion, the others found whatever instrument they could and delivered stab upon stab on the mercenary.

    Blood warmed by alcohol and tempered in violence, those from the inn shot to the streets, striking down any Meridanian they saw, whether mercenary, merchant or otherwise. The village was swallowed by this mob, eventually pushing the remaining of De’Rovere’s Carrion Guard back to the Cathedral. Locking themselves in and fortifying the entryways, the mercenaries sought to outlast the crowd. Their decision to barricade themselves inside the fortress would have dire consequences when rocks smashed the windows and soon came calls to light the Cathedral on fire.

    It was a vaillant but doomed effort from the Meridanian mercenaries, they were too few and couldn’t stop the mob. The Cathedral burned while De’Rovere was drunk on his new honors.

    The news did not come soon. Giuliano spent three months enjoying the attention as a new Bishop of Xios before traders alerted him to what happened. Many emotions raced through the bishop, anger, fear, regret, confusion. But the deepest was a sense of betrayal. This wasn’t a random community rejecting the faith, a cabal of heretics who he would put to the sword. This was his home rising against him after he rebuilt the trade route.

    He would soon be taken in with meetings with both Church Officials and the Royal Families’ minions, suggesting how they’d retake the land as quickly and bloodlessly as possible. He was demure during these talks, letting others plan and orchestrate their travel back. It took some time to raise volunteers, alongside the generous offer of the kingdom’s personal cavalry. By the time they left for Chatillon, their flagration was half a year old.

    A lion’s share of the community were skittish, leaving before the Bishop’s vengeance could find them. But as the months ticked on and Giuliano was no where to be seen, they slowly flocked back to Chatillon, hopeful that the Church had found sense and abandoned the road bump between capitals. These hopes were eventually tested and proven false.

    It took seven months and two weeks before the Church’s forces would retaliate. De’Rovere had the kingdom’s cavalry route what resistance organized itself against the Bishop, though they broke within minutes. Giuliano had the villagers collected, hundreds of fearful men and women all being led to the source of their crime, the burned Cathedral. With little patience, De’Rovere ordered the citizens of Chatillon into his Cathedral. So broken by fear were they, the Bishop was forced to order the Nortalis knights to shove them in, one after another. Once they were inside, the Bishop’s forces revealed barrels of tar and oils, greased dish towels and other flammables from their campaign. These barrels were set in the open edifice of the Cathedral and ignited.

    “The incident at Chatillon was nothing short of a just pyre, burned in the flames of wrath of our Goddess. They profaned the most holy of places with the sinful repulsion of Xios’ chosen defenders. This punishment was appropriate and far too merciful an ending for those sinners.” — Bishop De’Rovere, defending his decision to the Archbishop.

    Ever since the incident, De’Rovere has retained ownership of the Chatillon Cathedral, the twice burned husk of it at least. He was sent back to Sfanti and reprimanded for his actions, nearly declared a heretic and traitor to the Church himself. De’Rovere would spend several months in a cell before finally being given a verdict, announcing that he was seen as just in the eyes of the Goddess. As soon as his trial ended, he was sent off to yet another, poor section of the Kingdom of Regal Nortalis. An area where a man such as himself, capable of drawing blood from a stone, could yet find coin for the Archbishop.
 


  • Jorrah Maidenstead​

    Image credit: Sabrina Webster on pinterest.
    from Sabrina Webster.jpgName:
    Jorrah Justinius Maidenstead
    Age:
    30
    Nation & Role:
    Ditanian Retainer: Captain of the Etalus Owls and personal mentor to the daughter of Duke Etalus

    Appearance:    ​
    At an impassive 6’4’’, Jorrah carries himself with an almost otherworldly sense of grace, gentility and strength. His frame is slender save for his broad shoulders, though his wiry muscles are clearly well-toned from years of combat experience. Despite spending most of his time outside, his porcelain skin is clean and unmottled, his cheeks smooth and hairless. His long, straight raven-black hair reaches past his shoulders and is almost never tied back – he’s often seen flicking his head back to swoosh stray hairs out of his face. His narrow, brown eyes betray little of the thoughts and feelings going on inside his skull, though close allies and colleagues have learnt to watch for the subtle movements of his lips to gauge his mood. If his usual minute smile sinks into a slight frown, that means things are getting serious.

    Usually, the young captain is adorned in light yet effective armour, which prioritises the protection of his arms and upper chest whilst remaining light enough to allow for free movement. His gloves are especially complex, designed to lessen the load on his arms when firing his bow.

    Jorrah’s unconventional yet undeniably handsome features have earnt him popularity with many commonfolk. It’s not uncommon for him to find himself the target of barmaids’ flirtation, or for young lady-knights to swoon in his presence. Others find his unusually calm presence unsettling and his androgynous appearance unbefitting of a soldier. Discussion about his appearance seems to amuse him, whether positive or negative. His distinctive appearance and his rise through the ranks at such a young age spurned a multitude of nicknames and aliases. The one that stuck was The Raven, thanks to his hair, the black-feather adornment on the back of his uniform, and the fact that his arrival usually means that something unwelcome is happening or is soon going to happen.​

    Class:
    Bow Knight     [Bow/Sword, mounted]
    Note: Jorrah has been designed to fit the ‘Jagon’ archetype, both in terms of narrative role and combat abilities. He starts off as a second-tier class as a result. This isn’t me giving myself preferential treatment – he will level up slower than other characters, his starting stats are lower than any regular second-tier unit would be, and he should be matched and then outclassed by the rest of the cast within a couple of skirmishes.

    Stats:    ​
    Level​
    HP​
    Strength​
    Magic​
    Skill​
    Speed​
    Defence​
    Resistance​
    1​
    32​
    8​
    3​
    8​
    10​
    6​
    3​

    Inventory:
    Longbow – has greater range than usual bows
    Steel Sword
    Short bow – can hit at close range, though not very powerful
    Vulnerary​

 
Sorry for the late entry, I know it's still rather rough, I have all the details fleshed out, but haven't had time to fill them all in, which I will do as soon as humanly possible SkyGinge SkyGinge

Sydia Mercedes Galeinne


  • "Should My Lord command, Belinde and I will tear down the very skies in his name. None can come between our kingdom and its destiny. For Jussane!"
    Sydia's Resolve
    IMG_3758.jpeg
    Age: 21

    Heritage: Kingdom of Jussane, Retainer to the Prince
    Scheme: Scheme to Strengthen:

    Appearance: A maiden of blossoming youth, Sydia has the features of nobility, though her experiences have worn them somewhat rugged of late. She typically wears her short, chestnut brown hair loose, or else tucks it into a hasty knot to fit inside of her helmet. Her childlike face is free of blush or dyes, and she cares little for jewelry or other such ornamentation. Standing just over a meter and a half, she is surprisingly muscular and athletic for her stature.

    Personality: On the fields of battle, Sydia takes charge in a strict and serious tone, barking orders and calling out enemy positions with sharp words and hardened resolve. She acts with no room for error, and places the completion of the mission above all other aspects, even to her own harm. However, she takes instruction obediently, and follows commands to the letter, her knightly training allows for no other alternative.

    Contrarily, away from the battlefield, she is outgoing and cheerful, with a chipper and positive attitude that brings smiles to the faces of others. She is known to her compatriots to be supportive and caring; nurturing injuries, mending broken equipment, and bolstering the morale of the party. She loves a friendly challenge, and is often seen among the circles of the rowdiest, roughest individuals, perfectly at home among them as can be. Despite how she might stand out among a military crowd, she shrugs off the jesting insults and jeers with a laugh, but she has also been known to retaliate in playful vengeance in response to pranks around the camp.

    Character Relationships:To be determined through roleplay
 
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  • Xenobia, Daughter of the Archbishop, Fourth Child of the Holy Letter


    AD_4nXcv34BWkMD6P-ESxnOpEjJqsDSab-TIHomqiUQx51HqCd-cJjLw4kBvdk5w9AsYRstXj0rzs0H71L1wQ9fUh1uXKk1Jo_gRfDfVUlWxJZe1xs860vMaK7ys6akWDNRpCtteZiQ0ANZTCNug_Ev2jqMRpKgW


    Age:
    22

    Nation and Role:
    Retainer to the Cunning Cleric

    Appearance:
    Xenobia gets her silver hair from her mother, and the blonde highlights from her father. The iris of her eyes are some mix of silver and yellow, and she allows her hair to cover her right eye. Her face is nearly always wearing some manner of smile, smirk, or grin, even while sleeping. It rarely ever contorts into anything else.

    Xenobia wears a white shirt over yellow armor that reaches up to her neck. Beneath her neck is a cravat that comes from her shirt, with a white to yellow fade upwards. The shirt is decorated with several four pointed yellow stars that form a V shape. Her left arm and shoulder is covered in plate armor, as are her legs, on which Xenobia has had Xios’s teachings inscribed.

    Her pants are white like her shirt, but are mostly hidden by the armor on her legs. She wears four separate belts, with the largest being yellow with a silver buckle. She wears a white cape with a golden outline that hits the floor. Her armor and cravat are all adorned with varying amounts of wax red seals written in red. After a battle, they are often tattered and bloody, and Xenobia regularly replaces them.

    Class:
    Wolf Knight

    Stats:    ​

    Level​
    HP​
    Strength​
    Magic​
    Skill​
    Speed​
    Defense​
    Resistance​
    5​
    21 ​
    12 ​
    0 ​
    7 ​
    12 ​
    5 ​
    3 ​

    Inventory:

    Clavus
    A weapon created by order of the Archbishop to arm his daughters and his sons. A grand competition was held, and the best blacksmiths in the holy kingdom came to the capital to gain the honor of one of the four pointed children of the archbishop wielding their steel. The competition lasted upwards of two months, and by the end of it, Xenobia selected the simply named Clavus.

    A blade designed to pierce through heretics who channel Fell magic and heavy armor, she had her eyes on it the moment it was presented. Without regard to her siblings, took it for herself at the first opportunity. Upon her new blade and before the gathered crowd, she was the first of her siblings, and by far the most enthusiastic, to proclaim the name of the first victor, and declare her efforts with it as dedication to the Divine Dragon.

    Heal Staff
    A simple heal staff given to Xenobia by the church. Used to heal allies.

    Hand Ax
    A simple Hand Axe given to Xenobia by the church. She has a mean throwing arm.

    Vulnerary
    A Vulnerary given to Xenobia by the church. Something all clerics carry, former or not.

    ​

    ​
 
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Rufus Knox


by ScampDung.jpg​

Age: 20
Appearance:
‘Tall, dark, ruggedly handsome… well, two out of three ain’t half bad I s’pose.’
Rufus has always looked older than he is. He claims to have emerged from the womb with a chiselled jawline and the heavy brow of a battle-hardened warrior. His dark hair, which has a slight purple tinge under the right lighting, sits in a shoulder-length unruly mane of competing strands. His sun-gnarled desert-tanned skin exposes him as a Meridanian, mottled with a full parade of scars and cuts. Though he stands at a humble 5’8’’, his presence feels powerful, his frame stocky and visibly rippling with muscles.
Personality:
Rufus carries himself with the cocksure confidence of a seasoned warrior. He lacks the refinement of nobility in any of his behaviour and mannerisms, with a loud booming voice, a short temper and gruffness which adds to the impression that he’s older than he really is. If you had to describe a common thug, you’d probably find a description akin to how Rufus presents himself.

However, underneath his rougish exterior lies a quieter, more contemplative character. In stark contrast to his battle-hardened frame, the young man values nature, compassion and learning above strength and violence. He’s still somewhat simple-minded, lacking both the intellect and tact for subtlety, yet he’s a simpleton with a heart of gold, going great and often bizarre lengths to express his kindness and loyalty towards his allies.

For whatever reason, he keeps his truest intentions an enigma almost all the time, perhaps either afraid of opening up or simply not knowing how. His thought processes are often needlessly convoluted and strange, unhelped by his inability to ask for council before rushing head first into some reckless scheme.

Class:
Brawler
Stats: ​
Level​
HP​
Strength​
Magic​
Skill​
Speed​
Defence​
Resistance​
8​
30​
12​
0​
7​
7​
9​
4​
Inventory:
Spiked Gauntlets – Signature weapon, the spikes add potency to his pummels and are also useful for defensively snagging blades.

Backstory:
Unknown. Though visibly not a Ditanian, he found himself involved with a group of thieves who decided to take advantage of the Etalus Owl’s dwindling numbers by stealing from some merchants during the Rite of Summer. He claims to have a message of dire importance for the rulers of Etalus...​
 
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