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Re: Rebirth of Tyrium




Name: Grunjoor Brokenhelm


Title: Harbinger


Appearance:


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hit points: 20/22



Description



Name: Grunjoor Brokenhelm


Age: 56


Race: Human


Gender: Male


Nationality: Fridjorian


Height: 6'5"


Weight: 195lbs


Eye Color: Blue


Hair Color: Brown


Personality



Background: Harbinger Grunjoor is a strong willed, hard headed man who enjoys drinking, fighting, and adventure, all three at once preferably. He is in charge of Fridjoor's military movements and tactics.


Quote: "No man should die without a weapon in his hand."


Character



Level: 1


Class: Fighter


Deity: None


Alignment: Chaotic Neutral


Organization: None


Hit Points: 22


Speed: 25 feet


Stats



Strength: 16 (+3)


Dexterity: 9 (-0.5)


Constitution: 15 (+2.5)


Intelligence: 10 (-+0)


Wisdom: 10 (-+0)


Charisma: 10 (-+0)


+1 Proficiency


Inventory



Weapon: Double sided waraxe, 1d8 dmg melee, 1d8 dmg thrown


Armor: Chain mail, 14 AC


Misc: Wooden halberd shield, 6AC on sucessful block, dagger, 1d4 dmg melee, 1d4 dmg thrown




Grunjoor stood, clasping his hands together. "Well then, it's all settled," Grunjoor gestured to each of the parties participating in the expedition individually. "We have Mr. Blacklash from the federacy, Rigario from Kygar, Kastor and Grey from Thelgrim, And Clash and Eira from my own country. The only country left to not have anyone in the party is Palador. Which is suprising, because they are the ones to have called us all here. Chariman?" Grunjoor jerked his chin at the chairman of the meeting, attempting to elicit a response. "It would only be fitting, afterall, this problem doesn't affect Fridjor, but we're more than willing to lend a hand."

 

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Alexius Povaldi


His majesty, the king


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Description



Name: Alexius Povaldi


Age: 46


Race: Human


Gender: Male


Nationality: Cegorian, Fortune's Federacy


Height: 6'3"


Weight: 169 lbs


Eye Colour: Hazel


Hair Colour: Black


Character



Level: 1


Class: Paladin


Deity: Mitra Bala


Alignment: Lawful Good


Organization: N/A


Hit Points: 24


Speed: 25 feet


Stats



Strength: 15 (+2.5)


Dexterity: 4 (-3)


Constitution: 11 (+0.5)


Intelligence: 12 (+1)


Wisdom: 14 (+2)


Charisma: 14 (+2)


Skills



Magical:


1.
Inspiring presence - Cancels out 'presence' for allies or (in absence of presence) +1 attack roll for allies.


Inventory



Weapon: Bastard sword - 1d8


Armour: Steel helmet, leather leggings, fur gloves - AC 14


Misc: Coin purse,




Alexius, who had remained seated silently to study the group of adventures, now stands from his seat at the table and turns around. "Natalia, return to the palace at your own accord. If you decide to embark with these travellers then I suggest you take your guardsmen and stay close to Rikkard." His gloved hand raises into the air and two fingers stand high. These fingers form a very vague 'V' shape. In Cegoria, the shape of V being formed by fingers on the primary hand is a sign of good luck and is meant to mean two things, 'triumph and valour'. This was the king's way of wishing the adventurers a safe voyage without having to admit he was not joining them.


His boots collide with the floor as he makes a determined exit from the room. His hand moves to the hilt of his own sword as he prepares to defend himself if he encounters any more of those shadowy figures. He reaches the doors and pushes the door to the right open with his left hand. "Mitra Bala guide your voyage, travellers." He speaks softly and mostly to himself as he begins to head down the corridor his guards had head down before.


The corridor was long and lead to a stair case but it was easily traversable in a short period of time if one had suitable levels of determination in their strides. Alexius reached the outside of the building and saw the city to be as intact as it had been when he'd first entered. Though there were jumpy people about, a few staring at their own shadows, the guards were waiting beside the doors at the top of the outside stairs with tense expressions about them. "Come, we return to Cegoria." The guards nod and two of them begin jogging down the street to locate the royal carriage.


Alexius' thoughts become consumed with worry for his country and all those who resided under the banner of the Federacy. He waits patiently for the carriage to arrive and, once it does, embarks it with much haste. The guardsmen jump on the sides of carriage and hang on as usual. The travel back to Cegoria would take two days by carriage back to the river, another week and a half to sail to Na'tor's harbour for a stock up and another three days sail to the primary harbour of Cego. That amounted to a total of two weeks travel to return to Cegoria. Until then his wife, her majesty queen Maria, was in charge of the relatively stable nation. If any attempts to halt the king were made they'd have to be made before he reached Federacy waters which were patrolled quite regularly by interceptor class ships.
 



Name: Natalia Povaldi



Title: Princess of Cegoria



Appearance:
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no slide
Description



Name: Natalia Povaldi



Age: 19



Race: Human



Gender: Female



Nationality: Cegorian



Height: 5'8



Weight: 115lbs



Eye Color: Golden Brown



Hair Color: Dark Pink-Purple



Character



Level: 1



Class: Gleeman



Deity: Mitra Bala



Alignment: Lawful Good



Organization: N/A



Hit Points: 13



Speed: 30



Stats



Strength: 10



Dexterity: 12



Constitution: 10



Intelligence: 12



Wisdom: 10



Charisma: 12



Skills



Physical:



1. Dagger Swipe- Attack target with a furious dagger slash.



2. Parry - Deflect an attack from a blade.



Magical:



1. Serenade - Sings a serenading tune to nullify a hostile target.



2. Harmony Crush - Sings a deathly chant to inflict damage on a target.



Inventory



Weapon: Large Spearhead Dagger.



Armor: Padded Dress



Misc: Coin Purse






As her father and his regiment of guards took to leave, she didn't hesitate to run right up to him and follow along. Taking his arm, she stood and walked close to him, the king and his daughter protected by the trained formation of their guards. As they walked, the flashy group drew much attention, and the guard banners told everyone that it was in fact, no doubt, the King of Cegoria, if they didn't already know he was here that is. And with him his precious daughter, whom many considered to be of striking beauty. This was evident as she walked, her bubbly bust lightly bouncing with each step as they patrolled the streets.

Needless to say, the two mounted the carriage, heading for Cegoria. From the carriage, the princess giggled while her father ranted about all the men who were obviously attracted to her.​
 
Thelgrim, the Black Tower


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Deteri stood at the window of the Black Tower, nearest to the top floor. None traversed past the lavishly decorated guest room that Deteri stood in, for only the master of the tower was allowed to do so, and he had been dead for a very long time. A quick glance around the room gave the observer the opinion that the owner was rich, and had a very good taste to match it. Two chairs sat facing a fire, red velvet cushions covering them. A red carpet on the floor nicely set off the coloring of the cushions of the padded chairs. Golden candles on a table in between dimly lit the room, for the tower was never brighter than dimly lit, even though the fireplace crackled warmly with a golden-red fire. Deteri didn't pay attention to any of the decorations in the room. He just stood, looking out the window, watching the men far below in the courtyard, working, even in the waning sunlight.


The men were tall and strong. The best breed in Thelgrim. These men made even Deteri nervous. They weren't really men. The strongest regiment in Thelgrim's army, trained exclusively in the courtyards and catacombs of the Black Tower, known by the public as the Blackguard. Men in the Blackguard are the strongest in Thelgrim, and trained to be the some of deadliest soldiers in the world. The armor they wore is impenetrable, impervious to any normal, and some magical, attacks, and weighs more than some men. Worth more than a normal merchant makes in an entire year. These men made Deteri's skin crawl. Legends said that the men never flinched at pain, could suffer wounds that would normally slay a man, and keep fighting. Legends that Deteri knew were all too true.


Malor spoke up now, for he had been awaiting Deteri's response to a question he asked earlier. "Well?" He prodded. Deteri turned from the window overlooking the courtyard to address Malor.


"I don't spy for you, Lord Malor.", saying Malor's title in a derisive tone. "Have one of your spineless lackeys do it for you." Deteri said.


"Now now don't be that way." Malor said, standing from the chair he was sitting in, spreading his hands out wide. One hand held a golden goblet filled with red wine. "Working for me can be beneficial for the both of us." Malor began, setting the goblet on the table. "We must identify our targets, and confirm our alliances. Without that, your blade will grow rusty."


"Spare me your lies Malor." Deteri said, leaving out Malor's title as he spoke. "The other mindless cowards you have working for you may not realize it, but I know the only man you care about is you."


Malor sighed, and drew out a folded paper from his coat with an emblem of a black dragon on it on a field of red. "The emperor said you would be this way." He hands, Deteri the letter, and Deteri reads it. After Deteri reads the letter, he frowns, and throws it into the fire. "Very well. I have no idea why the emperor would give you complete freedom to do as you please, but I will not question his word. I will ride out as soon as night falls." At that, he strode from the room at a rapid pace. As the door shut behind Deteri, Malor smiled maliciously. He strode to the window, and looked out, watching the Blackguard train relentlessly. Right now the men were fighting with large maces, smashing targets made of wood. Of course the letter he gave Deteri was forged, but the assassin would never discover that. Malor watched the Blackguard fight, his mind completely at ease. Everything was going according to his plans. A Blackguard swung his mace down on a humanoid target, crushing the head completely. Wood splinters flew out from the target in every direction.
 
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Maria Povaldi


Her majesty, the queen


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Description



Name: Maria Povaldi


Age: 33


Race: Human


Gender: Female


Nationality: Paladorian genetically, Cegorian mentally.


Height: 5'8"


Weight: 138 lbs


Eye Colour: Green


Hair Colour: Blonde


Character



Level: 1


Class: Gleeman


Deity: Mitra Bala


Alignment: Neutral Good


Organization: N/A


Hit Points: 11


Speed: 35 feet


Stats



Strength: 2 (-4)


Dexterity: 12 (+1)


Constitution: 12 (+1)


Intelligence: 16 (+3)


Wisdom: 12 (+1)


Charisma: 16 (+3)


Skills



Physical:


1.
Flight - Switches her intelligence buff with her dexterity buff for two posts.


2. Disarm - Roll higher than an opponent's attack roll, opponent drops weapon.


Magical:


1.
Charm - +4 persuasion on members of the opposite sex/gender.


2. Presence - All enemies suffer -2 attack rolls.


Inventory



Weapon: None


Armour: Queenly dress - AC 10


Misc: Expensive jewellery, Royal crown, Beauty products, Coin purse.




Cego stands as the capital city in Cegoria and the hub of most trade events involving the southern portions of the sea. The harbour is mostly empty of larger ships today with the exception of a battleship being refitted to include prototypes of black sand throwers but such things are likely to blame on the changing of winds as the seasons roll over. Moving into the colder portions of the year was always bad on trade and often caused the port to suffer thin layers of ice scaring away small ships. There was one thing the harbour didn't lack though, and that was life. While the life may not have been people it was certainly life nonetheless. Small birds dance through the air in delight and make the occasional dive for a high swimming fish.


The streets away from the harbour are fuller than usual, with the exception of the streets that lead into the noble districts and ultimately, to the palace. Local bakers and tea house owners lure in travellers with the charming scents and aromas of their goods. Many hold 'sales' or have 'discounts' which are almost insulting to the very words. Their discounts are hardly a change in price and the sales only apply if someone were to buy in bulk. Regardless, they receive a lot of business from passers-by and foreigners from the string of islands that aren't 'technically' members of the federation. For those who weren't buying or selling, buskers and travelling performers could keep them entertained for a token of charity. Baskets and hats are placed at almost every corner as a busker or puppeteer attempts to earn their keep for the evening. Inns thrived off this sort of liveliness.


Her majesty sighs longingly. Her long, well kept nails drumming along the arm of her glorious throne. With gorgeous green eyes, she reassesses the short man in colourful garments who danced joyously before her. His large smile, constant twirls and ability to juggle oddly shaped objects kept her entertained most days but today was not one of them. She didn't have the heart to be rid of the fool but didn't wish for company today.


The room in which she resides is considered small by the palace's standards as it is only large enough to house fifty men at most. It stands as one of the highest points in the city and is able to survey almost everything inside of the walls. Around the circular room is a balcony which her majesty and husband usually patrol together. She missed him dearly and couldn't wait for his return to her.


The fool, who had previously been dancing, bows to show his dance had ended. With a voice as gentle as it is humorous he says, "Your highness. You don't seem well today. Shall I grab the apothecary or priestess and begin to make my way out?" Her majesty, queen Maria replies in a somewhat vague tone, "If you think such an action would be wise. I'm not particularly worried about my absence in thought." Her jester smiles and laughs off his previous statement. "Of course, of course. I apologise for implying you were sick. You're the queen, you have many things to think about." He bows a second time and begins to walk backwards as the queen lifts a hand and waves him off. He turns near the door and skips a few steps before deliberately falling over and hitting his face against the floor. The queen looks at him from the corner of her eye and smiles. Her jester wasn't a fool naturally, he was quite the opposite. He was a scholar who had a habit of making the queen smile and for that he'd become her personal entertainer. He occasionally read her excerpts of poetry from foreign lands or sang songs she'd heard from the people in the streets.


The queen's mind was not only fixated on her husband's voyage. Three days after he'd left, she was informed of minor bandit raids on the outlier farm settlements of Neroma. Nothing too major but a possible threat to trade routes spanning from the borders of Neroma to Kygar. She'd also received reports of riots in Mesita as Kyoras citizens reportedly set ablaze to a handful of granaries at the Cegorian outpost. The local Mesitians had been storing food in them for months. Luckily, the fires were extinguished before any real damage was done and the terrorists were publicly executed for the satisfaction of the locals. Kyoras is known to have a problem with people who refuse to accept that the war between the two are over and this is only another attack carried out by them. Soon it may prove to be too great a task for the federation to keep making excuses as to why they should keep Kyoras under their protection.
 

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