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Lilith Nightriver

Played By: Bethany Peckham
Character Name: Lilith Nightriver
Gender: Female
Age: 35
Pronouns: She/Her
Class: Rogue
Race: Ulven
Trade: Alchemist, Laborer, Herbalist
Skills: Making delicious food and drink, Seeing the good in most situations, Rolling with the punches
(though not literally, please don’t punch me)
Bio:
Lilith was born in the year 235 to Rikart and Marla Nightriver. Rikart was a well known trade merchant and Marla the owner of a local tavern in Brattsholt. She was both brewer and chef of all the delicious cuisine. Growing up at the tavern was a learning environment in many ways for Lilith. Her father would host business meetings and many powerful, influential figures were in attendance. As a toddler she would often be present, playing quietly in a corner and listening to the proud confidence in her father’s voice. When she grew old enough to hold a knife her learning took place in the kitchen with her mother. She enjoyed the many recipes and careful workings that were needed to make the myriad of drinks and meals that would please people from all over Nightriver territories. There were times she felt like a master spellcrafter, surrounded by bubbling and boiling pots with steam filling the room she would toss in the next ingredients with a soft cackle and throw her head back in to a roar of laughter.
When Lilith was 15 there was talk of outsiders. A people different from her own, flat teeth and mere copies of eachother. Some of the Ulven from Brattsholt left to fight the unknown, few came back. After a year of fighting, her father, who had become the village leader by this time, had decided to take a stand. He gathered some like minded Ulven leaders and traveled to meet with these “unknowns”… these “humans”. They went to the city of New Hope. A truce was struck between the Ulven and the Colonists
and the fighting stopped.

Over the next years of Lilith’s life much remained the same. Work in the tavern, brew the concoctions, serve the patrons. Her father still held meetings, though they were more political in nature and less to do with the local trade routes. She would overhear a few things while bringing in the meal and feel blessed that her parents weren’t pushing her to take on more of a role in her father’s politics. She found the new clientele rather interesting for a while. After the truce was set colonists started to
make their way into Brattsholt. They would bring with them many different trinkets and clothes but what intriqued her the most were the stories. Tales of sea voyages and battles with monsters. Lilith had never ventured far from home, there was never a need, so she felt that nothing that exciting must be out there. Her imagination began to run wild.

As the influx of Colonists and Ulven grow in Brattsholt the town is in need of a Job Coordinator. Lilith has tired of the daily routine and takes the job as a way to strike out on her own. She enjoys meeting new folk and seeing the town prosper as things get done. A few months into the season Bandits
start harassing them. These were well armored than most brigands and they wouldn’t be deterred. After seeming to disway the hooligans momentarily, Lilith and the leaders of the town managed to evacuate the townspeople and most of the valuables. The Raiders returned in force and burned Brattsholt to the ground.

After many tears and help from other clans the town is able to get back to a working order. Lilith is distraught over the ransacking of her home. She felt helpless in both the defense of her village and in helping to heal the town. Decades of a passive life way heavy on her mind. Saying a heartfelt goodbye to her parents, Lilith packs her few belongings and ventures off to find a way to help those in need.

Through her travels she started to learn the ways of Alchemy and Herbalism. Many of the basics she had already grasped through all of her ‘playing’ in the kitchen. Taking lessons from those she finds while passing through towns increased her knowledge. At one such town Lilith was working alongside some Stormjarl Ulven. They told her of a village that was plagued by an odd sickness that was unexplainable. She agreed to go with them and see what she could do to help.

After traveling with the Stormjarl for a few months she felts that the views of the Stormjarl Clan align with her own. Lilith joined the Einherjar of Stormjarl to learn from them and to expand her knowledge in Alchemy and herbalism.

If she can use some of her newly aquired skills to help others,
then that is what she is meant to do.

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Orla Madhava

Played By: Bethany Peckham

Character Name: Orla Madhava

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/her

Class: Rogue

Age: 39

Race: Human

Hair: Brownish/Blackish

Eyes: Blue

Occupation: Soldier/ Mercenary/ Armed Escort/ Knee Breaker/

Known Skills: Blacksmithing, Surviving, Horsmanship,

Birthplace:  A small town in the Oasis on Faedrun

Appearance: Nothing remarkable, though slightly battle scarred

 

Bio/Backstory:

Mahsai of the True May’Kar

Arjuna Madhava’s Journal

235-

The fighting has become closer and I’ve been hearing word that the May’Kar soldiers are now attacking the Vandregon units. I don’t know what has gotten in to them. Uilium will be leaving come dawn. It will be difficult for him to fight against his fellow brothers but this penitent sickness has seemed to overwhelm our beautiful oasis. I can not bring myself to believe they have all forgotten what we have been fighting for these many years. So this is why I call it a ‘sickness’.

Uilium will be traveling with a few other farmers. There is a Vandregon unit close by that they will fight alongside. It has been years since he has used his steel for killing but I know he is a survivor and I will see him again. I must see him again and little Orla is only 2 and needs her father around.

 

236-

There has been no word from the Vandregon unit that Ulium has joined. More and more of the townsfolk have gone missing or are outright dying. I thought I saw the baker’s wife the other day, though she was shambling about down an alleyway. I didn’t dare go near for fear she had caught some undead sickness. I have spent the last few weeks preparing to leave. Most of the stores have gone dark. No one to work them I suppose. But I need supplies so I sneak in and gather what I can carry. My last stop will be the blacksmith. Orla will need to learn to fight with something. It will be many years before she can lift my sword.

 

236-

The horses are packed heavy with food and water. Luckily our house is close to the mountains. I know of an abandoned shelter where I hope we will be left alone. I can’t hold out for my husband’s return, it has become too dangerous here.

 

246-

Orla turns 13 in a few days. Ulium would be proud of the fighter she has become. When he and I were in the May’Kar guard together he could rarely best me in the training battles. Those days are so far gone now they are but a dream. I am doing my best to teach Orla everything I know. We have been able to sustain ourselves fairly well on our own here. The land has given us what we need for food and I have been able to teach her a few blacksmithing ways to mend the armor and fix the weapons. As a member of the guard you always had to know these things. I had no idea the situation I would be teaching them in. I always imagined her father would be teaching her these things. He always was a better mender than me.

Evening is close and it is time to put out the fires. 13 years without a fire at night to keep one warm is miserable. Though to have the fires bring the undead to our door would be worse.

 

250-

My excursions down the mountain have been difficult. A few months back I ventured down to a small town. After observing it for a few hours there seemed to be no evidence of the undead. Maybe because I went away from the Oasis? I went closer in and heard people speaking of a new continent. There were sea voyages that were meant to take people to safety. Somewhere the undead have not reached. I also heard talk of how the May’Kar had betrayed their fellow man, fighting with the Penitent. And how this undead plague and it’s fanatics were taking over everything.

Once again this place is not safe. We must find safe passage on to one of those ships.

 

251-

Finally we have made it to the southern end of Vandregon Territory. The paths were difficult as we kept to smaller roads. I’ve talked to one of the Captains of a larger vessel. He will be able to take both of us but not our horses. It is difficult to part with our old friends but if it is what we must do. I sold them to an honest looking fellow and bought a small hand cart to hold all of our belongings. Orla did not take the selling of her only friend very well. Poor girl. She has had no one to speak with but me and the horses for her 18 years. I fear the seclusion was not good for her social skills, but I had little option. The ship will sail in the morning.

 

256-   Orla Madhava’s Journal

Well my mother was writing in this thing all the time it seemed. She said it helped to keep her centered, or connected, or something. So, thought I should give it a try. Here we go.

Let’s see, it’s been a few years now since she has passed on. Looks like her last entry was when we sailed to Mardrun. That was a terrible experience. If I don’t ever get on a boat again I will be happy, as will my stomach. She was right about me missing our horses, I never really forgave her for that. I told them everything I felt since I was little. They always would look back with their big loving eyes. Anyways,  I know why she had to sell them, but it still hurts.

Moving on. We made ourselves a home in New Hope. That’s where all the colonists were allowed to stay. Venturing outside of that was a sort of ‘At your Own Risk’ thing. Mother was certainly not about to take any risks. Not after what she experienced back at home in the Oasis. I don’t remember that first home. I was too young. She would tell me about it though. Stories about my father and her when they were younger. The Mahsai, the True May’Kar Warriors. She never wanted me to forget where I came from. The True May’Kar that believed it didn’t matter what you believed, just that you did. She wanted me to wear her armor and be proud of  it, not ashamed. I was never ashamed of her or father. I hope she knew that.

Well, it looks like some soldiers have just returned. I best warm up the forges, they will need some mending. I suppose this journal writing might be helpful after all.

 

261-

Okay so a lot has been going on. Things in New Hope are busy. It’s been ten years since we came over from Faedrun. Having only heard about the Syndar and Ulven before there is certainly more chance to get to know them here. Many customs and beliefs to learn about.

I have heard talk of this Coalition. I wonder if they are looking for more fighters? I have kept up on the training from my mother but I want to put it to use. There’s been talk of Undead on Mardrun. I’d like to get some payback.

 

262-

So life with the Coalition is a bit…hectic. I finally got some revenge for my father and killed some undead. You would think it would be easier to tear through a bag of bones. Nothing prepares you to fight rotting corpses. Nothing. After they destroyed the  Lich cleanup was overwhelming. There were disputes over burning the undead or burying them. I just did what they told me to do. Bury them, dig them up, burn them…it went on and on. I don’t know where we are headed when we break camp but I hope it is far from here.

 

263-

I’ve been meeting some more Ulven. Of course it has to be during a war. I suppose when you work as a soldier that’s how you meet most people. There’s a lot of dislike amongst some of the Ulven for the Colonists. I’ve been told we are fighting alongside the Nightriver clan, they think Colonists are okay. Me, I like to get to know someone first before I dislike them. Which seems to be most everyone. I suppose growing up in the mountains talking to horses doesn’t prepare you to talk with people.

 

266-

Years of war, one battle after another, is a grueling life. I wear my mother’s armor proudly, it has saved my life many times. There are those I have to set straight about the Mahsai, how not all of the May’Kar had defected to the Penitent side. Wearing it certainly doesn’t make me any instant friends, but that’s not what I’m looking for anyways. The Ulven that I’ve met and fought alongside are good peoples. Hardy warriors and strong in their beliefs. Family and Clan based and loyal to their friends. Not that any of them would consider me as close as a friend, just not an enemy I suppose.

 

270-

I’ve been summoned into one of the leaders tents. They have taken a few others in for what appears to be questioning, but over what, I don’t know…

Well that was unexpected. Apparently keeping to yourself and being quiet gets you put on a top secret mission. Seems The Order is heading in to the Dirge Swamps to find some Stone. When it comes to fodder, nothing beats someone with zero attachments.

 

271-

Being a hired sword doesn’t seem that bad. Let me back up a bit. After fighting Mordok in the Swamps, which was nasty and horrible, I decided to not return to the Coalition. They have treated me well over my many years with them and I had gained experiences that I would otherwise have never obtained. But I am getting too old to be fighting peoples wars. That’s not me. Fighting small groups of bandits on the other hand, that I can do. With pleasure. I have a few contacts that can get me jobs at different locations across Mardrun.

I will just see where this half of my life takes me now.

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Fynch

CHARACTER NAME: Fynch

GENDER: Male

PRONOUN(S): doesn’t matter to him how they are addressed

CLASS: Mage

AGE: 29

RACE: Syndar

HAIR: Dark black in color

EYES: Green

OCCUPATION: Arcane researcher

KNOWN SKILLS: Really enjoys learning (not really a skill but he enjoys it)

APPEARANCE: Relatively short and frail

NOTABLE TRAITS: Wears red face paint over his eyes

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY: I was young when I left Faedrun, 7 I think. I don’t remember much of the early years of my life. I was taught and got a good education. My name was Lumirian back then, I was born of silver skin to two Io’Larian who can only be described as birth givers. I never knew them. I knew of them as it was knowledge and all knowledge is my birthright.

Growing up when you’re told you’ll be great but taught to look down on those who look up to you, it doesn’t make you feel like a leader. But I never wanted to lead, I only ever cared about learning. In my education I had one professor by the name of Gerthyrd. He was wise, more wise than any I have ever met. He instilled values in me, “always ask questions, and if you don’t like the answer then change it” he would tell me. The “Enlightened” had a thing for rules and schedule but Gerthyrd would never nag me about such things, besides who has time for sleep or speechcraft when there is a world of mysteries to be explored.

Gerthyrd was my teacher for many years, He taught me over on Faedrun and chose to accompany me over to this strange new world. He always said it was because “ I can’t leave my favorite brightest pupil”  But I think he wasn’t asked to come anyway, as one of the “Enlightens” best scholars. There were few other Syndar who could match Gerthyrds drive and nack for finding answers in the most unlikely places. A fine example was the time he (quite by accident) discovered that the short legged Borgus moth were in fact parasitic and laid their eggs inside the shell of red crested snail, which when hatched would proceed to eat the snail. Something never before documented. I digress, Gerthyrd was my mentor for as long as I can remember and I wouldn’t be where I am today without him.

At around the age of 18 Gerthyrd and I were traveling the continent researching our findings. Learning ways of Ulven, the soil properties of the outlands, how much venom a pignose worfbat could produce. It was during these travels we ran into another small group of Syndar. A disagreement in research and findings led into a rather nasty fight. Gerthyrd was killed and I barely managed to escape.

As I aged I changed my name and  spent several years traveling the continent learning the ways of all the people. The ways the Ulvan interacted, the breeding habits of the local fish, what plants were familiar from the old world. I learned and journaled all of my findings. I wasn’t always accepted by the locals, in fact more often than not I was turned away. But in time I learned. I still continue to learn.

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Johan Schwartz

PLAYED BY: John J. Black, esq.

CHARACTER NAME: Johan Schwartz

GENDER: M

PRONOUN(S): He/Him

CLASS: Rogue

AGE: 31

RACE: Human

HAIR: Brown

EYES: Green

OCCUPATION: Baker, former sellsword

KNOWN SKILLS: Baking, swordsmanship, shieldwork

BIRTHPLACE: New Aldoria

APPEARANCE: He is pale skinned with brown hair and a brown beard.

NOTABLE TRAITS: None

RELATIONSHIPS: Artemis and Matheris. Friends and business associates.

RUMORS: Why does a baker need a kite shield and soldier’s sword?

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:

Born to Aldorian parents, Johan is an immigrant who never feels at home. Fleeing the undead, Johan’s parents sought out a better life. Johan was 10 when the undead forced their family to leave their ancestral home. Johan would grow to fondly pine for the simplicity of life before their exodus. New Aldoria became their home where they would raise their family. Johan grew up in the relative safety and comfort of a New Aldorian home. Although it was home to his family, Johan felt adrift.

They were not wealthy, but not particularly poor either. Johan’s father was a soldier and wanted nothing more than for their son to earn glory on the battlefield. Johan’s mother was a seamstress and provided him with the tenderness that his father lacked. Johan loved them both dearly and wanted to earn their love and respect.

From youth to young adulthood Johan was fed stories of the Old World and how life used to be. His father would often regale Johan with stories of blood and honor. Through these stories Johan found he longed for a land he would never know again, but the Old World didn’t really feel like home either. He felt lost in his formative years.

Johan was no soldier, but he wasn’t a bad fighter either. It’s not that he didn’t like fighting. Rather, he loved sparring with his father in his youth. He does not seek out violence on its own but Johan has never run from a fight. To Johan, becoming a soldier just felt like an inevitability he wanted no part of. He would be forever grateful to his parents fighting for a better life, but he needed to find his own path.

Hoping to improve his standing and earn a living, Johan became a city watchman. It wasn’t so much the routine as the monotonous pace of city life that led Johan into depression. He was miserable, and after five years he left the watch to become a freelance sellsword. His father was not pleased, but Johan was an adult of his own at this point. The two didn’t talk much after Johan left the watch.

Thinking he could be his own boss and set his own hours, Johan was less than thrilled to find out a sellsword just does the same hack and slash work as a guard but with less accolade. For the better part of a decade Johan was gainfully “employed” as whatever wealthy lords with too much money for sense wanted him to be. He’d been a bodyguard, security, mercenary, and a goon on at least one occasion. To him it all felt pointless, but it paid the bills.

He was once again miserable. Johan was no stranger to depression and allowed himself to wallow in it. His father was a soldier who earned great honor on the battlefield and he couldn’t help but compare his failings to his father’s success. He felt like his life was simply missing some key thing.

Johan’s father died. Johan received word via letter, and he didn’t know how to react. They weren’t close anymore and he wished that they could have talked and sparred once more. Sometimes life just doesn’t work out. Johan visited his mother and paid his respects. He didn’t stay long, maybe a day. He received no closure with his father, and this just added to the stressors facing Johan. He felt like if something didn’t change he couldn’t go on anymore.

Everything changed for Johan the day he met Artemis. Artemis was in the area selling his wares of wine and cookies. Ever the showman, Artemis put on several displays for the local townsfolk. During one such demonstration Artemis and his assistant Matheris baked and provided samples of cookies. Johan had eaten cookies before but never so scrumptious. Johan was beside himself. All he had known was the sword, but the cookies were so delicious he knew upon tasting one what he wanted to do with his life. He would be a baker! And occasional sellsword. So Johan set off with Artemis and Matheris, determined to be the greatest baker in all the land. Or at least a pretty good one. In any event he finally felt like his life had purpose.

Today Johan can be found throughout the inns and villages of Mardrun selling his wares. He is happier now, dealing in various baked goods rather than death. That said, although he chooses to wield a rolling pin and peel, his skills with a sword remain sharp.

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Siegfrieda Thorbjorgdottir – [Renowned]

CHARACTER NAME: Siegfrieda Thorbjorgdottir, Pack Sjóúlfur, Clan Nightriver

GENDER: Female

CLASS: Cleric

AGE: 28

RACE: Ulven

OCCUPATION: Skald (warrior and poet)

KNOWN SKILLS: Poetry, Runes, and battle

BIRTHPLACE: Eastern shores of Mardrun, Pack Sjóúlfur

APPEARANCE: Armed well and strong, her clothing is of deep blues and greens popular amongst ulven of Pack Sjóúlfur.

 

Backstory:

Siegfrieda was born to Pack Sjóúlfur under Clan Nightriver. Her mother is Thorbjorg Egildottir of Pack Sjóúlfur, Hersir of Nightriver a renowned warrior of the Clan. Her father is Storri Bodvarson, a skilled fisher of the Pack.

Growing up in Pack Sjóúlfur was a quiet life for the most part. The pack lived on the Eastern shore of Mardrun on the cliffside, creating a natural defense for the pack. From a young age Siegfrieda began learning how to fight from her mother and how to provide food like her father. When she reached the age of ten, she began showing a talent for skaldic verses, seemingly taking after her grandfather Bodvar. Much like her grandfather, however, she seemed to always find trouble and could often be found picking fights with other willing children of the pack.

Eventually she settled a bit and began helping her father with more of the fishing in his older age. Soon her mother would leave to join the efforts in establishing the Shield of Mardrun. Though her mother would visit as often as she was able to regale her with stories of battles.

Years later, Siegfrieda was out helping her father bring in the fishing nets. She was lost in thought of sword and verse, distracting her from the work. A loose rope in the wrong place and a net slipping lead to her hitting her head and falling overboard, everything going black.

She regained consciousness, crawling from the water onto the shore of a sickly swamp. Clearly not where she had fallen in. Everything was dark but she could barely see a form coming into view through the thick fog.

It was a wolf. Bright with something uncanny about it.  The wolf moved with an otherworldliness that was hard to describe, but Siegfrieda knew exactly what it was. It was a fylgja, the spirit given to members of pack Sjóúlfur at birth by the wolf Sjóúlfur, one of the first sons of the Great Wolf.

Siegfrieda had a realization… this must be the spirit Sjóúlfur gifted to her. She reached her hand out to the spirit, which greeted her kindly, resting it’s head against her palm. A name immediately came to Siegfrieda’s mind. Kolbitr… She took a second to think about the name, an old word for “coal bitter” or someone who is lazy. She shrugged before realizing the spirit was trying to get her to move. She nodded and followed the wolf.

After a short trek through the muck of the swamp the two made their way into a clearing on the top of a short cliff. Upon stopping, Kolbitr immediately laid down, pointing their muzzle forward off the cliff. With a sigh, Siegfrieda looked over the edge. It took a moment, but she could make out the shape of white wolf. Suddenly more details came into view. The wolf was running towards a wall of shields, clearly in distress. Dark gray wolves emerged from the fog, surrounding the first one. With a snarl one of the dark gray ones lunged towards the white wolf but it was quick to evade and snapped back, biting down in the top of its neck. More wolves joined in the fray. The white wolf held out for a long time but was tiring. Soon it was too much, and the white wolf lay before the gray ones, lifeless. The gray wolves turned, walking through the wall of shields.

When the scene had finished, Siegfrieda turned to Kolbitr who was now sitting up looking at her. As she was about to ask the spirit a question they opened their mouth and Siegfrieda heard a single phrase in a tired voice.

“Wake up.”

Siegfrieda awoke to the violent shaking of her father, water spilling forth from her lungs as she coughed and rolled over. She was back on the boat, her father clearly drenched, having jumped in after her. After arriving back home, Siegfrieda sat by the fire warming herself. She couldn’t help but stare at the coals, contemplating the dream she had.

Several weeks of easy work passed by before a messenger came knocking at the door of her home. The traveler clearly had a look of sorrow on their face as they sat down at the table with her father. Siegfrieda stood in the doorway, listening to their conversation, not believing the words she was hearing. Thorbjorg Egilsdottir of Pack Sjóúlfur, Hersir of Nightriver was dead. Killed by Mordok on a scouting mission beyond the Shield of Mardrun along with several others. Siegfrieda’s thoughts went immediately to the dream. In her eyes it could not be a coincidence. Her fylgja has tried to warn her of this and she didn’t listen. Now her mother has paid the price. After talking with her father and the pack leader she set out to fight on the Shield of Mardun, equipped with her mother’s helmet and the resolve to find out what happened to her.

 

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Belterra

PLAYED BY: Celeste
CHARACTER NAME: Belterra
GENDER: female
PRONOUNS: she/her
CLASS: Mage
AGE: 21
RACE: Ulven (pack fieldcrow)
HAIR: bright red (changes sometimes, depends on how player is feeling about their hair color)
EYE: Bright Blue
OCCUPATION: Brothel Owner
BIRTHPLACE: Madrun
APPEARANCE: wears a shoulder piece that highlights her organization’s colors, first aid kit at her side,along with her sword. On the shorter side

Bio:

Belterra was born in 250 on the continent of Mardrun in Clan Grimward’s Pack Fieldcrow. She spent most of her childhood being raised and trained to be a Daughter of Gaia, however Belterra did not always take her studies seriously, as she did not always grasp the ways of learning magic that the Daughters of Gaia were trying to teach her. She loved to observe the healers and patch people up though, and after a while of observing she started to help with this process, to which it seemed she held a hidden talent for patching. During this part of her training she began to develop a passion for assisting others when it was asked for, or if needed, and was highly protective of those she tended to. When one of the Witches of Pack Fieldcrow attempted to teach her arcane magic again, she struggled once again with their teaching methods. She asked if there was another way to try and learn, and was met with sighs of disapproval and attempts to keep teaching her the same way. In the midst of a training session to even weave mana together, she asked if perhaps it would be allowed for her to learn from another teacher. She tried to phrase it that it wasn’t the Daughter’s fault, however the attempt was only met with a blank stare and turned head. With no verbal response she continued to try this. This scene went on for a few more days, until Belterra’s frustration was at its peak. She asked one last time and was met with a sigh of resignation and understanding.

“I have tried to teach you as much as I know how to, however it is apparent that the methods and styles I use do not seem to seed themself in your mind. If it will help you learn the gifts Gaia has to offer to us Belterra, then go and learn from others that live here on Mardrun. Be wary of the colonist’s if you learn from their ilk, we still do not trust them with their magic and how they use them. Return when you are ready to learn how to become a Daughter of Gaia.”

She decided to leave her pack in 262 at the age of 12, traveling across Mardrun to the best of her abilities. It wasn’t easy going for a while, at least until she met Aurelia outside of Aylin’s Reach . Her and Aurelia bonded very quickly and decided to start traveling together until they could find a place to settle down and to find different teachers of magic. After several years of travel, she learned to make money how she could. After dealing with horrible working conditions once of age while working as a consort in a town, Belterra decided to run a brothel where all the people are protected and the people who work as an escort know it is a safe place. After arriving with Aurelia in the city of Bladehome she saw that there wasn’t any notable inn anywhere to rest in for the night. So, after talking with some of the citizens there, Belterra and Aurelia decided to go and talk with the leader of Bladehome, Volrok, to get permission to set up a tavern/ brothel called the “Busty Bosom Chateau” in one of the old building to be able to allow visitors of the city have a place to come in, relax, play games, enjoy the companion of other people, and eat the food and drinks that are prepared by Aurelia and Belterra.

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Maretheris

PLAYED BY: Samantha Klinkhammer

CHARACTER NAME: Maretheris

GENDER: Female

RONOUN(S): She/her/they

CLASS: Baker/ Cleric

AGE:26

RACE: Human

HAIR: Brown

EYES: Green

OCCUPATION: For now she sells baked goods alongside Artemis.

KNOWN SKILLS: Baking.

BIRTHPLACE: Vandregon

APPEARANCE: usually seen wearing a black dress with a blue apron or a red

skirt with a white shirt.

NOTABLE TRAITS: Stares off into the distance debating her existence.

RELATIONSHIPS: Artemis, Azureal Talonflame

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:

When Maretheris was a baby she was stolen from her crib in the middle of the night. Her family was unaware until they woke up in the morning to see that she was gone. The mother and father went around town in search of their missing child in the hope to find her, or at least some type of clues…Sadly, they found nothing. She apparently vanished without a trace; little did they know she was only a few blocks away.

The man that took Maretheris moved to the outskirts of Vandragon. During those sheltered times, he taught her to bake along with crocheting, reading, writing, and other basic things. Though it seems baking was what she loved the most out of the two. Then one day on a day of baking, there was the undead outbreak, and her father figure was killed as Maretheris ran. She then sought escape on the Pioneer ship, The Alana. Captain Azureal Talonflame piloted the ship. He was a handsome tall dark skinned Syndar. He paid her no mind.

Maretheris then took up residence in Darkport for a time. She spent her days baking to pass the time. One day, she began to experiment with making bread. The scent was very aromatic and attracted a few children. This also attracted the nose of a “young” man named Artemis. He was also Tall, Dark, and handsome. Just like a familiar man she met on the way here. She gave out her baked goods to the children and the man. It was a very intriguing color, a blue and black color. It was also infused with cheese. A very delicious combination. The man kept coming back for more when he had time. He even took some time to teach her a few tricks. They shared a similar bond for baking. He loved the science behind it, and she had the skill. They both liked the experimentation.

Then Artemis was gone for a few months. Maretheris was a bit worried her baking partner was gone. She went out to look for him. She also ventured out of town. That’s when she was accosted by bandits. Then the dark-skinned man showed up to her rescue with a few other men. He then told Maretheris of a plan to open a tavern and they became partners. After Artemis saved her though, she became very fond of him.

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March 272 News and Rumors

Ice thaws and the continent begins to spring back to life. Throughout the land, people leave their homes and local taverns and the flow of news spreads like wildfire. It seems that the people of Mardun made great plans during the cold months and they are now ready to put them publicly in motion.


Clan Shattered Spear released a proclamation regarding the lands of the former Clan Riverhead. Some years ago before the creation of the outposts that make up The Shield of Mardrun, a large warband of Mordok swept into Riverhead lands and decimated their populace. In the end Riverhead was unable to maintain its clan and was restructured as Pack Riverhead and taken in by their neighbor Clan Shattered Spear. Now years later, Pack Riverhead feels that it is time to try to return to their ancestral homelands. They know that they do not have the numbers or strength to maintain a Clan of their own, but Shattered Spear has seen the benefits of returning these Ulven to their home. Clan Riverhead will be reconstituted as a vassal state of Clan Shattered Spear. Shattered Spear will aid in the clearing and resettling of their lands and in return Riverhead will exist as a sub-Clan under their banners and protection much in the way The Watchwolves of Luna exist as a protectorate of Clan Grimward. The process will take some time, but the Ulven of Riverhead are excited to return home, even if it is as vassals to their once neighbor Clan.

 


The Council of Newhope has released a proclamation as well.

“To the People of Newhope,
We of the Council feel that it is in the best interest of the people that we remain open and truthful with all of the citzens of Newhope. We have heard the discontent in the voices of the Syndar citizens of Newhope and we understand that it may feel that in the loss of Celestial Arragones that the Syndar have lost their voice on the Council. We want you all to know that this is not true. It was never the intention of The Council to remove the voice of any people and as soon as we had sentenced Celestial Arragones, we began the process of promoting a new Syndar voice to the council. We tell you this now because our process is nearing completion. We have selected the final candidate and, should they agree to the terms and responsibilities of service, over the course of this next month we will be finalizing the procedures and will be officially promoting a fresh, new Syndar voice to The Council of Newhope. We remain hopeful and excited as we look toward the bright future of our collective people.
The Newhope Council”

 

Bad news spreads from a small village in Clan Goldenfield. Gudrun Whiteoak, the Daughter of Gaia that had gone missing on her way to the Daughter’s Summit in January was found dead not twenty paces from a major roadway. It seems the falling snow had kept her body hidden until the thaw came and melted away her icy funerary trappings. Gudrun was found with no marks of struggle on her body and was taken away to a local surgeon so they could try to uncover what caused her death. The surgeon found traces of poison in her veins and turned her over immediately to a local Daughter of Gaia to purify her body before it would be returned to Whiteoak to be burned. The Daughter of Gaia found something even more alarming when she came to cleanse the body. From what she was able to tell, Gudrun had been hollowed and it appears to have happened before she died. Clan Whiteoak has sent a group of investigators to Clan Goldenfield in an attempt to uncover the perpetrators of this heinous crime. Naturally Clan Goldenfield has pledged to help Whiteoak find those responsible.

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Einherjar’s Vengeance

Bryech crawled his way to the top of the hill before him, Toralf and Thrand to his flanks. The hard packed snow made it impossible to move silently but the noise from the camp on the other side of the hill covered their approach. Crawling only so high that they could get a glance, couldn’t risk getting spotted and losing the element of surprise. Bryech scanned the camp in the depression below. Covered on three sides by hills and to the east opened to a small stream. It was occupied by those responsible for the pain and suffering of several villages in the Eastern Stormjarl territory during the past several months. The Einherjar had been tracking them for the better part of two weeks before finding them here.

 

“I count thirty in the main body.” Bryech whispered. While these brigands were armed and had shown the willingness for violence, their equipment was basic at best.

“More by the stream, looks like nine, maybe ten.” Thrand responded. Bryech looked to him to show his acknowledgement but Thrand was still scanning. Bryech could see him thinking how they should approach. He had a mind for tactics. Thrand turned to his friend and nodded. Bryech signaled to move back to their position at the bottom of the hill where their warpack was waiting. Fritha and Yrsa were there with the warriors, Lilith, Amiya, and Ylva were preparing healing supplies. Arland as gray as he was kept watch to their south, his bow ready for any unexpected visitors.

 

“What did you see?” Fritha whispered to the returning party.

“They’ve got forty, give or take a few.” Bryech replied, grabbing his shield from one of the warriors who was holding it for him.

“Numbers wise they have the advantage but they lack the quality of our Drengr.” Bryech continued.

“It will be a worthy fight then.” Toralf chimed in, facing toward the enemy, his excitement quite visible. Bryech smiled and gave a quiet chuckle. He thought the same.

“Thrand, what do you think?” Fritha asked her anticipation apparent as well. Thrand paused for a moment, thinking back to what he saw.

“We have the advantage of the hill, we should double that by hitting them from both sides.” Thrand pointed to the west.

“We can move behind the hill and flank them from the north.” Bryech nodded his agreement.

“Then that’s what we’ll do. Thrand, Toralf, take half the pack and and move to hit them from the far side. The rest of us will stay here and meet you in the middle.”

 

The group breaks and finishes the last of their preparations. Bryech scans the group one last time before they split. Toralf and Ylva share a moment before he departs, Fritha and Thrand doing the same. Quickly, quietly, and with experienced efficiency the warriors finish their preparations and move to their respective groups. As Thrand takes half around the rest slowly make their way up the hill awaiting the signal from their comrades.

 

Just below the edge again Bryech waited in anticipation, his attention pulled by the quiet but quickened breathing of Yrsa. As he looked at her he could tell she was fighting her nerves. She was less equipped than most, having only just truly begun as a warrior. Bryech tapped her with the flat of his blade to get her attention and laughed lightly as she jumped. She scowled as she met his gaze thinking he was mocking her.

 

“Hold onto your courage my friend, and know that if we fall His ears will ring with our names.” His look was meant to be one of reassurance but his helmet kept her from seeing it. She nodded and took a deep breath before adjusting her grip on her sword.

“I’ll stay close to Fritha and with luck not steal all your glory.” She smiled, her confidence rising to the surface behind the jest. Just then the blast of a horn blasted through the quiet. Bryech leapt up, reacting immediately to the signal.

 

“CHAARGE!!” Bryech roared out his command as a battlecry and rushed down the hill. The combined cry of both groups charging down the hill sent the foe below into a panicked rush of movement. Before either side of the Einherjar force was even half way down the hill the brigands responded with a volley of arrows.

 

“Shields!” Fritha called out from Bryech’s left. Bryech raised his shield just in time for a series of loud thuds to crash out over the thunder of charging warriors as the arrows covered the hillside.

“Shit,shit,shit,shit!” Bryech heard Yrsa cry out as death rained down around them. Across the field Thrand and Toralf crashed into the foe screaming out commands that could barely be heard over the sounds of battle. Bryech ran into the first bandit he saw using the momentum from the hill to send the man sprawling. Thrusting forward with fervor he pierced the man through his throat before he could recover, a loud gurgling his only response. Diving into the fight Bryech could not help but feel their momentum stall as the bandits continued their barrage of arrows. Several warriors to his right cried out in pain as the volley’s found their mark.

 

“Shield Wall!” Thand’s voice boomed out over the cacophony. Quickly moving into a more defensive formation the far side continued to press in hoping to keep the initiative. Through bouts of fighting Bryech watched the far side begin to carve through the enemy in droves. Although taking a defensive formation they pushed forward with a violence worthy of song. Hoping to do the same Bryech followed suit.

 

“South Fang! Sh..OOfh!” Before he could finish his command a hulking beast of a man sent him flying with a swing of a large hammer. Rolling with the hit Bryech winced as his old war wound pulsed pain through his chest. Rising with forced speed and grit Bryech meet the brigands who rushed through the now vacant spot in the skirmish line hoping to envelop their foe on the southern front. Two women ran toward Bryech with small skirmish shields and swords. Recovering from the sharp pain in his chest Bryech pushed to the right hoping to face only one of them at a time. For a few moments the two faltered as they tried to fight around one another. In that time Bryech fought hard against the first woman but her defense was strong and he was unable to defeat her before her counterpart assaulted his shield with a flurry of blows. The three of them went on for some time, neither side gaining the advantage. Bryech could tell they were tiring as their movements slowed; his years of training and experience had led to enough endurance to last through their onslaught. One of the women swung for a wide arcing hit and Bryech lashed forward with a tight cut at her forearm, slicing deep into her skin. The woman screamed in pain as blood soaked her arm and sleeve.

 

“You bastard!” the other screamed as she launched into a renewed burst of fierce strikes. Her assault put Bryech on the retreat focusing on defense. The momentum was short lived as she again faltered under her mounting fatigue. Scooping forward with his shield Bryech opened her defense and cut deep into her side splitting her armor and sending her entrails pouring out onto the ground. As she fell he followed with another slash across her face, silencing her cries. The second woman now back in the fight screamed at the scene.

“Kara, no!” The woman looked from her fallen friend to Bryech and rushed at him with a furious cry. Her sword in her uninjured hand swung weakly at him. Her strong arm disabled by his previous strike. Bryech swatted her attacks aside with the edge of his shield before running her through. The woman gasped as the pain hit her, dropping her sword to grip at his wrist and forearm. Bryech met her gaze with a snarl

 

“For Stormjarl.” He growled before punching the edge of his shield into her temple, a resounding crack echoing back as he pulled his sword from her body. Looking back to the fight the large bandit was sowing chaos into the fight. Although the battle bode ill for the bandits the man seemed determined to fight to the last.

“Come on you big bastard!” Bryech yelled as he charged at him. The man turned just in time to catch a slash on his arm. Wincing, the man swung his hammer with one hand nearly striking Bryech in the head. The two exchanged blows, Bryech was faster but the man had strength to him. In only a few blows he shattered Bryech’s shield. Bryech drew his seax in his off hand and continued to trade blows with the man, the fight turning to the bandit now that his shield was gone. The man swung from his side and broke through Bryech’s attempt at a block slamming into his chest and sending him flying back. Bryech’s wound flared again, pain lancing through his chest stealing his breath. Bryech tried to rise but the pain was harder to fight through when he was this tired. The bandit rushed in and swung down looking to finish the fight. Bryech rolled, dodging the blow and taking a wild swing at his opponent’s hands. Bryech’s seax found purchase and the man dropped his hammer in a moment of pain as he pulled back in shock. Bryech pushed up and tried to stab the bandit but his attack wasn’t strong enough to penetrate the man’s armor. Recovering, the bandit grabbed Bryech by the mask of his helm and his belt and threw him. Before Bryech knew what was happening the man was on him raining blows on him with his bare fists. Bryech curled tight hoping to defend himself but the man was too strong.

 

“Somebody. Get. This. Fucker. Off me!” was all Bryech could yell out as he tried to stop his head from being crushed. Suddenly the blows stopped as a smattering of blood hit Bryech. Looking up, the man had an axe blade buried in his face. Suddenly Thrand appeared, kicking Bryech’s assailant off with a grunt. Reaching down he yelled above the battle.

“On your feet Ulfhednar!” Pulling Bryech to his feet he acknowledged his friend and reentered the fray, Shattering a shield before caving in its wielder’s chest. Collecting his blades Bryech followed and together the Einherjar slaughtered their enemies. 

 

As the battle ended and the cries of the wounded replaced the sounds of combat. Bryech knelt and collected himself. Sore and bloody he rested amongst the carnage and felt the rush of war fade from his mind. His thoughts moved from glory to the aftermath and the bloody justice that still needed to be dealt.

“Toralf, get Ylva and Lillith and have them start tending the wounded and our fallen. The rest of you gather the dead and finish off the rest of these níðingur. We burn them without blessings or speaking their names.” Toralf jogged up the hill breathing heavily from the fight. A yell came from within the warpack.

“Our people are avenged!” The battlecry that followed felt as if it made the earth shake. And together they finished their work burning the corpses of their foes and putting to rest the suffering of the Stormborn Coast.

 

Bryech sat by the fire later that night in the Einherjar camp taking a watch over their fallen warrior. They wouldn’t dare burn him with their fallen foes. He deserved an honored funeral in Ulvesal where his people could pay their respects. His name was Ervind, he had fought with them since the Grimward Raids. He left behind a son and a mate. It had been some time since Bryech had lost a friend in battle, it was a pain he had been happy to forget. As the camp grew quiet, Bryech looked at his severely damaged helm and thought about the cost of their actions. Without him realizing Thrand, Fritha and Yrsa had joined him. He smiled once he realized his friend’s presence. Fritha handed him a cup and raised her own as the rest of them sat.

“To Ervind Stormjarl, May The Great Wolf’s ears ring with his name.” the rest raised their cups.

“May he be welcomed into his pack, and live forever with his ancestors in the Hunting Grounds” Yrsa finished. The group sat until the next vigil woke and replaced them. Bryech was glad for their turn. It was a good reminder that no matter what Stormjarl faced they would face it together.

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Runar

PLAYED BY: Zack Hawkins

CHARACTER NAME: Runar

GENDER: yes plz

PREFFERED PRONOUN(S): He/Him

CLASS: Cleric

AGE: 36

RACE: Ulven

HAIR: Dark Brown

EYES: 2

OCCUPATION: A student and a Chair Maker

KNOWN SKILLS: Chair making, onion harvesting, heavy things carrying, fast swimming, afraid of the dark but good at the daytime

BIRTHPLACE: on an onion farm in nightriver territory

APPEARANCE: thicc

NOTABLE TRAITS: Happy.  unless he is sad.  Strong hands, but not so good feet.  knees are okay

RELATIONSHIPS: Recently enrolled in the university at keys crossing

RUMORS: Good listener, but not great speaker.  Also, good taster.  Runar loves tasting.  Smelling is good too

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:

~~~~~~~~ Part 1 ~~~~~~~~

Gaia’s happy waters

 

Runar was born in an onion patch, 6 inches from the worms as his mother tells.  Weary from her days labor, she didn’t quite make it back to their cabin in time to welcome him to the world, so he started his life in much the same fashion that he would spend his youth – naked and covered in dirt.  His father says the spot where it happened is still where the best onions sprout, but Runar knows it’s more likely due to it also being his favorite place to make night soil.

His father would always say, “Runar!  Never shit where you sleep!”.

and while Runar never completely understood the sentiment – “Who shits where they sleep? And does it happen so often that it needs to be a cautionary tale to children??” he DID suspect that perhaps this rule extended to where you were born as well, so he kept it to himself.

By his teen years, he had grown to wonder what was happening outside of his little family farm.  His parents were wary of all outsiders and had a wild, usually scary story to defend against any of his prying questions about Mardrun and its other inhabitants.

“If it were just other Ulven here, we would love to let you romp around sowing your wild oats” his mother bellowed once, “But it’s not!  There are evil, pointy eared baby eaters out there now..  and flat toothed round-ears with funny accents that are ALL diseased.  If you go near them, you’ll die, and we can’t pick all these onions without you”.

His parents knew a lot about everything, so he heeded their warnings usually.  He used to think they must be very wise to know so much about the world and all the things in it, but as the years went on, Runar did start to notice some incongruities in their tales..

He once asked his father while walking the riverbank, “Why does the water flow only in this direction, and never the other way around?”

His father smiled and explained,”It is because the river always flows from Gaia towards the Great Wolf, and when it rains, it is because Gaia is missing the Great Wolf and wants him near.. and when it STORMS, and the river overflows its banks..  It is because the Great Wolf has found her and is making her very happy”.

Runar loved that story and thought about it often.  He always loved swimming in the river when it was raining, and it made him happy thinking about Gaia missing the Great Wolf and how he was somehow a part of that when he swam.  But months later,  as he was helping his mother work the dirt, the dark clouds of a storm rolled in.. flashes of lightning and the boom of thunder came right as the first drops of rain hit their heads.  He started undressing and running to the river immediately, his mother running fast behind him.

She caught him before he jumped off the river bank, “What the hell are you doing Runar??”

“Swimming in Gaia’s love!!” He emphatically answered.

Turns out, his mother’s reasoning for the river’s flow was a lot different than his fathers..  “You’ve been reading those dirty fairy tales he writes haven’t you!”, she scolded.  “I told him to hide them away where you could not find them.  Is this why you always sneak out to shit in the onion patch too?? Did he write that it lures naked forest nymphs?!”.

But this was the way of it.  He was still not totally sure why the river flowed one way, but he also didn’t let it stop him from swimming in the rain.

The years passed, and Runar found his joy where he could in life – he knew nothing else, so he wanted for very little.. Or so he believed..

When Runar turned 36, the most amazing thing happened to shake up his quiet existence..

His father broke his leg.

Well.. Runar was sure that it was not great for his father, but OH BOY.. did it mean amazing things for him.  For the first time in his whole life, he was allowed to venture out from not just their farm, but out into Nightriver lands and to a settlement!!  Once a year, his father would go to trade their sweet onions and chairs that he enjoyed making for various goods they could not grow or make themselves, and this year… THIS YEAR.. that day had landed not only on his birthday, but on the day his father fell off the cabin roof, and it could not be stalled any longer for winter was fast approaching, and if they missed the window it would be an entire season without their needed goods.  His mother, being deathly afraid of diseases and mumbling something about colonial scum (two words whose meaning, Runar could not divine), made the executive decision to send him in his fathers stead.

 

~~~~~\ ~~Part 2 ~~~~~~~

The Great Wolf’s Heavy load

 

And there he was!!  Strolling down the path with a huge hiking pack full of onions and strapped with 4 homemade chairs, whistling a merry tune.  He walked all day and thought about walking all night just because he was SO excited to reach the market and see the mysterious outsiders his parents hated so much, but as the sun fell below the treeline, the woods took on an eerie calm.  He felt watched, although he could not tell why.  He remembered a story his mother had told him about creatures that come out at night.. Strange shadow beasts, with tiny yellow eyes that glowed bright when they smelled little boys nearby.  He thought he might see some of these eyes up ahead on the path..

HE IMMEDIATELY PANICKED.

Breaking into a run, Runar made it ten paces before tripping on a root and falling to the dirt, the weight of his overloaded pack, bulging with onions and 4 wooden chairs haphazardly strapped about it driving him face first into the soil.

Blinking, bleary eyed and seeing stars.. No.. yellow lights in the distance growing larger… and closer..

“Fuck”, he thought to himself. “First and last adventure”

He closed his eyes tightly and waited for his doom.

But it did not come.

Instead..  Soft footfalls.. And then an even softer voice.. “Well met.  I am Hjalvar, the Wolf’s Priest”.

After assuring Runar that Shadow Beasts were not a threat, the Wolf Priest helped him gather his spilled onions, and offered to set camp with him if he wanted.  They built a fire, and Hjalvar put a coney on the spit he had trapped that day, offering to share with him in exchange for some onions.  They supped and found themselves happily trading stories of recent adventures.  Runar felt a bit inadequate as his stories mostly dealt with local badgers or river otters and the shenanigans and hijinks associated with, while the wolf’s priest had grand tales of the road and his extensive travels.  Turns out, Hjalvar was something of a prophet, and Runar sat wide-eyed as he spun his tale of a first hand experience with the Great Wolf..

“There I was, falling from a scaffold. Next thing I know I’m on my back and my vision is fading out and my lungs are filling with blood. I close my eyes. Then suddenly I feel totally fine. I open my eyes and I’m standing in a forest and off in the distance I see the hulking shadow of The Great Wolf as it stalks its way toward me. Naturally I freeze in place. Then I hear a voice, low and rumbling like a growl barely escaping the throat of the great beast, ‘I do not know you yet you intrude on my forest?’ the beast called to me, ‘Without a name, you are nothing to me. Nothing but a morsel.’ Then the Great Wolf turned and began bounding toward me, his maw open. I tell you the likes of it I have never seen. When he opened his mouth, by Gaia’s grace his mouth so large it could swallow ten warriors without thinking, I saw the stars inside. I saw the very cosmos itself, but at the center of it all, I saw something that scared me more than any of the rest of the experience. I saw nothingness; a void of pure emotionless, nothingness. I screamed…and then I was back.  And I swore that when the great wolf saw me once more, He would know my name!”

Runar lay awake that night incapable of finding sleep.  He stared up through the trees into the great cosmos above wondering what else his parents had left out when educating him about the world.  He believed the Wolf Priest’s story entirely.. he had no reason to distrust the man – he had shared a rabbit with him after all, and what else do you need to know a person really?  The Great Wolf had placed a heavy load on Hjalvar it seems, allowing him to return to this realm after seeing into his maw.

By time the sun rose, he had made the biggest decision of his life – He would not be returning home.  This was the sign he had been waiting for.

Packing up camp, Runar asked Hjalvar for advice on where a young man with onions and chairs to spare might go to strike out into the world and see what he could learn of it.  The Great Wolf’s Priest said he had no idea how onions would get Runar ahead, but that there was a University in Key’s Crossing he could try.  “I think it would be a fine place for an open minded Ulven like yourself to get an unbiased education, but even if they do not admit you to their classes, it stands to reason that they would at least purchase your chairs,  schools usually need lots of chairs”

And so it was, that Runar and Hjalvar parted ways, and that he happily trotted along on his way to the University at Key’s Crossing to begin his education.