Wiki Pages – Page 54 – Last Hope Larp

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Nikolai Longfang

Played by: Nik Draco Knight
Name: Nikolai Longfang
Gender: Male.
Age: 17
Race: Ulven
Hair: Brown
Eyes: One eye is blue, the other is pure white
Occupation: Longfang Guardian
Known Skills: Shield expert, and toughness
Birthplace: originated from camp nightriver.
Appearance: of normal height, and described by Harlok as scrawny by his standards
Notable Traits: Left eye was blinded by a fight.

UPDATE: Nikolai Longfang was killed in the Battle of Blackwolf Creek in March of the year 263. The warriors of Pack Longfang fulfilled an honor debt to Clan Stormjarl and helped defend their settlements and protect their warriors during the Clan Grimward invasion of the winter of the year 262. After months of skirmish fighting and retreating back to the main Clan Stormjarl settlement, the Pack Longfang warriors stayed to help protect the final remaining settlement. When Clan Grimward warriors launched an all out attack in March of 263, Pack Longfang warriors sacrificed their lives to defend the main route into the settlement and keep Clan Grimward from massacring the ill-equipped Stormjarl militia stationed nearby. With brutal and savage fighting raging for hours almost non-stop, Pack Longfang warriors were slaughtered almost completely. Only a handful of warriors were dragged back to the healers; the elite warriors of Pack Longfang were decimated.

Nikolai gave his life in battle after holding his position in the shield wall for hours as both sides savagely attacked each other. Cut and stabbed dozens of times, Nikolai eventually bled to death from his wounds, but managed to hold out longer than some of his fellow warriors.

Bio: Nikolai Longfang was originally born to the Ulven clan Nightriver, but later in his life he was traded to pack Longfang along with one of his fellow pack members Wigwald. Both Nikolai and Wigwald were looked over due to their somewhat lack of size and stature to most other Longfang members, but both Ulven worked hard to be the best however only Nikolai rose to the title of a Longfang warrior. Since his becoming a warrior Nikolai has fought with the Longfang for years and has been in many battles, however his presence at the Grimmward Summit, is the most noteworthy so far in his life. Months before the summit Nikolai spent most of his time helping Wigwald improve his skills, already being a full fledged warrior Nikolai expected his companion to grow and improve fast, and after weeks of training he was showing improvement, but not enough to be considered a better warrior. Nikolai sympathized Wigwald, remembering his own troubles with being smaller then most Ulven. As training went on the days got closer and closer to the upcoming summit, and when the day finally came when the Longfang set out to the summit Wigwald begged Nikolai to bring him with, so when the time came to attend the summit Nikolai brought Wigwald. Nikolai describes the summit as one of the worst days in his life, for at the summit conflict arose between the Longfang and Graytides, so much that Nikolai was caught in the eye by a javelin, luckily his shield stopped the blunt of the javelin, however during this engagement, Khulgar Graytide killed Wigwald. This angers Nikolai… He was angered that the Graytide… other Ulven would take the life of another who was working for his place as a warrior and for peace… this thought burns like a wild fire in his heart to this day.

Relationships: Life long friend to Wigwald Longfang
Rumors: If they gossip about you, what do they say?

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Page 54

Venator Oathkeeper

Played by: Dante Hardy
Name: Venator
Gender: Male
Age: unknown
Race: Ulven
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Orange and red eyes, His eyes turned red after his second encounter with the grey tides at the Onsallas outpost.
Occupation: Fights for the Vandregon army, And leads a task force for Vandregon called the Mermiden
Known Skills: Rage, Shield Expert, Armor Proficiency, Toughness (x2).
Birthplace: Under the full moon in the out lands in the Dread-fang’s former settlement .
Appearance: Dark underclothes, chain mail, and leather armor.
Notable Traits: Keeps to himself, and is very slow to covers with anyone regardless or race. Along with being slow to talk to anyone, he is less likely to trust anyone. He also has a strong hatred for the mordok. He yells and growls at his enemies (as all ulven seem to do).
Relationships: Mostly travels with his Mermiden,or just Rogar Shadow-Fang, and the Vandregon leader William.
Rumors: The origin on one rumor is unknown, but some think that dark storm clouds seem to follow Venator a crossed the land. As does the smell of burning forest.

UPDATE: Venator Oathkeeper was killed in Coalition’s battle against the undead Lich in December of the year 261. After struggling with the decision to pay the price that must be paid in order to activate the blade, he willingly sacrificing himself. After being the focus of a complicated ritual and contemplating his life and purpose, Venator channeled his life essence through a May’Kar Paladin blade to create a divine weapon strong enough to destroy the Lich. After reciting the power words to finish the ritual, Venator charged the Lich and fought it in melee combat. The Lich was no match for Venator’s skill with the blade and the Lich was struck and the spell activation complete. In a flash of blinding light and a thunderous boom the divine magic ripped through Venator’s body and completely destroyed the Lich, the following shockwave tearing through the energy holding the liches minions together and causing them to crumble. Through Venator’s sacrifice, the Lich was stopped and the undead plague on Mardrun destroyed before it truly began.

Bio:
Venator was born to the old pack Dread-fang, and was the son of the Dread-fang’s Chieftain Darius Dread-fang, Venator was trained at a young age in the art of combat and was trained to be skilled in all aspects of weapons and their uses, as well as excelling in physiological intimidation. Venator from birth was promised to the Oath-keeper brotherhood to uphold a blood oath to protect all the adjacent packs around his home by his father, he would join the oath-keeper brotherhood a group dedicated to the protection of those who can’t protect themselves, thus gave him the title Oath-keeper from then on he wasn’t a Dread-fang, rather a guardian. but as years went on he came to despise the packs he was guarding, but he knew his fathers oath would cause Venator to suffer the same fate if he were to break it. However Venator discovered a loop hole in the oath, he would need to let ALL the packs die off and then he would be rid of this burden. so when the pack feel under attack by a group of mordok he left them to die. However one of the pack leaders escaped and came to Venator’s father and explained what had happened. After hearing this Darius was furious and ordered under penalty of death to go and clear out the mordok. Venator planed for this; he tackled him through the wall in their hut. Blinded with fury he took his sword and was about to slit his throat when Venator’s mother intervened. Still blinded by rage Venator stabs her through the heart. Darius was shocked, and he calls for an honor duel with Venator. Their battle lasted only 3 minutes, Venator over powered Darius with his strength, and skill. Venator pressed Darius to the point of exhaustion. Darius could feel the exhaustion setting in he would loss. However he called the rest of the pack to defend him, and chased Venator out of the camp.

Months later Venator finds his pack’s new settlement. Still vengeful he waits till night fall then sets fire to the camp. Darius is enraged and calls out to Venator for revenge. His response and the last words Venator says to his father are ” Don’t worry Darius this is only the beginning to MY victory!”

“For weeks in my travels I have been followed by a very persistent human, with many annoying questions to ask me. At one point he had asked if I was dishonored for not having the honor of most ulven warriors? “this question annoyed and angered me, but I knew just as rat like him does, that he would surly ask me again till i answered.” I stared him down and answered his insignificant question “No i do not feel at all dishonored or cheated by that, is it good to be known and feared, but to not be know but remain that thought in the back of ones head that if they were to cross me… would they know? That is what i enjoy most…. now i know I’m not the greatest fighter at the least i can hold my own, but my mother did not just give me a sturdy body to wield a sword and shield, but a cunning mind to find ways of taking some of the pressure off.”

He looks at me with a confused look. “shall i explain further? Very well, a true fight is indeed partly won by being a better fighter than another, but if you could beat that better, stronger fighter before he even draws a sword, now that is something deadly. Its true that in battle truth is the first to die creating a grand deception that travels by the tongue of another till it has past through the minds of many. Its the mystery of not knowing, all ulven are taught this, and i sometimes wounder if humans are, to know thine enemies. Well what if they are a cloud of smoke and some were in it is something lurking, waiting, that you can not see?” “this is what keeps all those curious away… unless they have been told before by the one who knows the truth… which leads me to wounder why you are here following me?” Venator draws his weapon. “So…. were is the one who told you of me… and don’t try and run you’ll be lost out here for weeks before someone finds you… IF they find you… so human were is Darius Dread-fang!”

To long has the swamp been my home. From the time of my insurgence at the Long-fang camp and Onsallas outpost, and after all that happens I meet one as strange ulven as i have ever meet. He greeted me as a friend, and asked to speak to me in private. I had take 3 of my Mermiden and 10 Vandregon footmen to a village on the verge of being attacked by the Graytides. But i made time to speak to this ulven. To my honor he was one ulven i grew up with, and fought with. His pack was right next to my own as a child. He spoke with much the same tone as his father. “Venator. I know events to take place soon will cut this conversation short. The Graytides are making hast here, they will attack within the hour, but i needed to speak with you urgently.” He reminded me much of myself as a younger form, “I know what you have done, you’re past, you’re legacy is drenched in you’re own kins blood. Tell me do you still seek the last surviving Ulven?” Ever since i escaped the swamp with my life i had been fearing this day to come. As a younger me i sought to work on the shadows, but with my new duties i am not allowed that luxury. But this ulven has been kind enough not to be an executioner of my deeds, and he deserves an answer.
“(Sighs) I have but gave up on my search for my father. my time in the dirge has shown me that vain hatred and childish grudges will inevitably be my own destruction. Its been a decade since my insertion to the Oath-keepers and 2 years since i set out to destroy my kin. I have been to near to death than i would like. IN the swamp i thought the great wolf was trying to punish me. But through it all i have emerged… stronger… smarter… calmer, I have come to grips with the fact that my own vendetta is unsavory a quality for the Mermiden’s leader. It is obvious that Darius is all to good at running and hiding for me to try and pursue him all my life. Instead I have decided to disown this crusade of death, and with it I give up the title of Oath-keeper. Maybe in the future after i have given all i have, The Great Wolf will come to know my name, and return me to a Dread-fang, but a Dread-fang of honor and of legend.”. Rogar bursts into the clearing “Venator! we need to go now! The Graytides are over running us! this camp site is doomed we need to get the villagers to safety!”. “Agreed, gather Scarlet and Franklin along with the all the Vandregon we brought. Tell them to escort to warriors and their families to safety. Go now Rogar as you said there isn’t any time to waste.” I looked back to my associate “I hate to leave this conversation were it is, but my duties call for my attention.

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Harlok Longfang

Harlok Longfang, of Pack Longfang, Clanless, son of Hanseth Longfang. Harlok grew up in a small village that is connected to and protected by the nearby Ulven Onsallas Outpost, which borders the Ulven lands near the Dirge Swamp.

UPDATE: Harlok Longfang was killed in the Battle of Blackwolf Creek in March of the year 263. The warriors of Pack Longfang fulfilled an honor debt to Clan Stormjarl and helped defend their settlements and protect their warriors during the Clan Grimward invasion of the winter of the year 262. After months of skirmish fighting and retreating back to the main Clan Stormjarl settlement, the Pack Longfang warriors stayed to help protect the final remaining settlement. When Clan Grimward warriors launched an all out attack in March of 263, Pack Longfang warriors sacrificed their lives to defend the main route into the settlement and keep Clan Grimward from massacring the ill-equipped Stormjarl militia stationed nearby. With brutal and savage fighting raging for hours almost non-stop, Pack Longfang warriors were slaughtered almost completely. Only a handful of warriors were dragged back to the healers; the elite warriors of Pack Longfang were decimated.

Harlok gave his life in defense of the settlement after standing with his fellow warriors against numerous waves of organized Clan Grimward invaders. After going into a berserker rage and killing several warriors and maiming a handful of others, Harlok was dragged away from the fight and was to be captured by Clan Grimward. Refusing to be captured, Harlok flew into a final berserker rage and lashed out against any Grimward warrior close by. His final moments were that of being hacked and stabbed dozens of times as he pulled an enemy down and stabbed him to death with his dagger. Covered in gore, his body mangled and armor broken, Harlok died with a snarl on his face and a death grip on his scramasax.

Harlok’s father was in the party of warriors sent as support to the Dirge Swamp to assist Pack Blackwing. Pack Longfang then moved to the Onsallas Outpost village and has made it their permanent settlement. As a child, Harlok was destined for the path of the warrior. He excelled at combat and was tenacious, taking to the studies of battle and learning from the warriors stationed at the outpost. He reveled in combat but was not blinded by fury, he is calculating and skilled. He also understood that being a warrior does not always mean you have to fight; there are numerous duties a warrior must fulfill in defense of his Pack and settlement. He began to help defend the village and outpost at an early age of 15 and eventually joined in on the hunting parties that would explore parts of the swamp or leave and help other Ulven Packs.

Veera Longfang, Harlok’s older sister by 2 years and his only sibling, was being trained to become the next Witch to lead Pack Longfang. Mere days before she was to leave the village and continue her training at another settlement with the Clan’s High Priestess, the Mordok attacked Onsallas outpost in a much larger force than usual. There was brutal fight that took place at the outpost and inside the village when the Mordok punched through the perimeter and started raiding the homes. Harlok fought hard with his fellow warriors to repel the attack and they were eventually able to kill most of the Mordok before the rest retreated into the Dirge Swamp. Harlok was cut and bruised but would live, but his sister was not as fortunate. They found her impaled to a tree by a Mordok hunting spear with her throat chewed out and her entrails pulled from her body. A Mordok Shaman had hunted her out specifically and ritualistically killed her, to what end no one is sure. Seeking revenge for not only the loss of his own daughter but of the Pack’s future Witch, Hanseth Longfang called for aid from nearby packs and led a large war party of almost a hundred Ulven and followed the trail of the Mordok into the swamp. A week later, only about half of the Ulven returned but Hanseth brought back the severed head of not only the Mordok Shaman but also of an “Alpha”, or the Mordok tribe’s leader.

When Harlok turned 24 years old, he was assigned to a hunting party that had tracked a group of Mordok into the Dirge Swamp. The Mordok ambushed the hunting party and proved larger than expected. Out of the twenty Ulven hunters and warriors sent to attack the Mordok, the sole survivor was Harlok Longfang, who stumbled back to the perimeter of the outpost and collapsed, covered in blood and dirt. His armor was shattered and torn, he had great wounds that were infected, several bones were broken, and his tongue had been brutally cut out of his throat. He was never able to tell the story of exactly what happened and never will for he is now unable to speak. Harlok has grown very impatient and abrupt after years of trying to communicate and being frustrated with his inability to do so.

It took a long time for his wounds to heal, so Harlok began training and teaching younger Ulven growing up in the village near the outpost. He also took up numerous watch duties in the row of towers near the village. Then the colonists began to arrive on Mardrun and conflict had broken out with the first Ulven parties that scouted out the foreigners. Pack Longfang left Onsallas outpost and moved to repel the foreigners from another land. Harlok was involved in numerous skirmishes and several bloody battles, his long fangs helping to lend to the stories of the Ulven being “demons”. Harlok’s father was killed in a skirmish between his hunting party and a group of Syndar. When they retrieved his father’s body, they found him surrounded by the bodies of dead Syndar. There was a bitten off Syndar finger nearby which appeared to have belonged to the man who had killed Hanseth and survived for there was no corpse that the finger went to.

By the time the truce was established between the colonists and the Ulven, Harlok had seen plenty of combat and killed numerous colonists. He views the humans and Syndar as weak and pathetic, cowards for abandoning their homeland to the plague that afflicted Faedrun, but Harlok fully respects and abides by the truce. Any human or Syndar that is strong willed or proves themselves in battle alongside (or even against) the Ulven are respected by Harlok, but all others are treated indifferently or even coldly. Even 10 years of interaction, both hostile and not, has not tempered the edge of Harlok’s demeanor towards humans and Syndar as a whole. Since Harlok is unable to voice his opinions about the colonists, he has taken more of an aloof stance towards any that have not earned his respect. He tolerates them for now.

After the truce, Pack Longfang was sent to intervene and stop another Pack after reports of continued fighting reached them. They arrived just as Pack Graytide was killing a caravan of humans that had been traveling from Newhope. As the confrontation escalated into drawn steel, it ended quickly when Harlok cleaved the arm clean off at the elbow of Lycon Graytide, the Graytide’s hunting party leader. Although the Graytide leader would live, Lycon spat curses at the Longfangs and vowed to seek revenge.

Most of Pack Longfang returned to Onsallas Outpost but Harlok left to travel the area. Harlok is close friends with Kragen Bloodmoon and Azra Steelfang and they have battled Mordok together on numerous occasions. Longfang is the dominant family of Pack Longfang, and Pack Longfang is currently clanless.

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Sathenus Silvermane

Player Name: Daniel Zillmann
Race: Ulven
Character name: Sathenus Silvermane
Home: Watchwolf
Sworn To: Longfang
Known Loyalties: Stanrick Longfang, Daughters of Gaia, Soulveig.
Known Enemies: Whiteoaks. (Undisclosed reason)

I am a warrior of few words, but I will write until my hands bleed. I was born into Clan Watchwolf and raised as any Watchwolf would have been raised: Rough around the edges, with a temper to boot, I have spent years learning to hold it in until a proper time for it’s release.

I was Joined with my Life Mate at a young age, and was quite lucky to have a loving mate to be joined to. In Watchwolf culture we mate for life to one mate, unlike the Polyamory that some Ulven practice. My life was usually filled with fistfights and taking down disorderly people either with a few cutting words, or if need be, cutting with my swords.

One day I was told by my Chieftain to escort some fur traders to the next territory. While doing my duty, a Whiteoak female took to me. I attempted to refuse her…

I returned to my village, thinking I cast off the Whiteoak female. No sooner did I get through the village gate, then the female shown up attempting to get inside saying I was her mate. With a convincing story and all my wit disarmed by the situation, my rebuttals fell on deaf ears. I was cast out, and told to take my new ‘mate’ with me, who later admitted to me that what she did, she did just for fun.

I left my homeland in search of honor. Going around from village to village, offering my skills with my swords to earn my keep. I won many fights and battles yet my shame still got to me, so I made my way north to the Dirge Swamp to die in the greatest battle that the Great Wolf would see. I stopped at the Village of Onsallas before venturing to my last battle. I visited the Longfang priestess Soulveig for a final blessing. After a bit of conversation she revealed that I did nothing wrong. Mother Gaia allowed the event to happen to show me a different path. With much deliberation, I came to terms with my past at that moment, and was offered a home with the Longfangs as a warrior. My skill was noticed, and I was trusted to guard the village and the Daughters of Gaia. I never strayed from my duty and was there when Soulveig died.

The one who offered me sanctuary and repentance of my past is now gone. I fell into a deep depression, figuring some spirits would be good to relieve the mood and tension. A few mugs in, three younger Ulven got out of hand, so I forcibly put them back into their place. This got the attention of Stanrick Longfang. After that Stanrick had offered up a spot at his table for me. Through our conversation he stopped referring to me as “The Berserker” or “That Watchwolf” as many knew me, and asked me if I would take the post of his bodyguard. I gladly accepted.

Now with some freedom, a reason to live, and a clear vision of the near future, I don’t feel the need to sell my services or skill. They are at the place where they will be best utilized.

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Stanrick Longfang

“You see this? This is the end of the world. And that, that is the Dirge Swamp. So tomorrow you will kill ten, and I will kill ten, and again the next day, and the day after that. Till there are no more Mordok to kill and the swamp is ours. Then I will come and help you reclaim your lands.” ~Stanrick Longfang

Played by: Jake Nitzel
Name: Stanrick Longfang
Gender: Male
Age: Born in the summer of the year 224, age 38
Race: Ulven
Hair: Dark Brown
Eyes: Green

Occupation: Out Post Guard / Warrior
Known Skills: Shield, armor, true grit, toughness, archery
Birthplace:Longfang village near Onsallas Outpost (Mardrun)
Appearance: Commonly seen with black leather armor with fur, Scars on his chest and arms that he tries to keep covered. Has a brown goatee.
Relationships: Mated to Selena Stargazer, Half-brother of Yawn Longfang, Father of Siren Longfang, Cousin of Harlok Longfang, Rill Longfang, and Reyna Longfang, Great Nephew of Solvig Longfang.

Bio: Stanrick was born in the village of Onsallas to Yoreden, and Dennagrath Longfang. He is the oldest of her 7 children and at the age of 5 he was killing mordok with little help from his father, he earned a reputation for being the “Clever Longfang” when he figured out how to burn down a section of swamp. Since then he had all ways took a few moments to think outside the box. This type of thinking saved his life and others time and time again. At 9 he started his training to be a hunter for the pack and had great skill, but his younger brother Ranmir out classed his skills with a bow. After much thought on the subject he decided that a warrior might be his calling he trained long and hard and found his place in the pack. He found a mate, Mina, who bore him a daughter, Siren. The Colonist came from across the Sea and Stanrick with the other warriors of pack Longfang went to fight. Only Stanrick and his cousin Harlok returned to Onsallas. Stanrick became the quartermaster of the outpost and was put to the task of training the new hunters and warriors, a task he was well suited to giving his skills as both a hunter and warrior.
Stanrick is unique when it comes to Longfang warriors, he is just as likely to talk to you about a problem he has, as he would draw his sword. He has no fear of any one based on size. He fights and trains like the Longfang warrior he is but also keeps his hunter skills up so he has something to fall back on if need be. If he can avoid a conflict he will but will gladly rid Gaia’s earth of you and send you to the Great Wolf if need be.
Stanrick family grows smaller every day, and only Yawn remains of his brothers and sisters. He is fond of his little brother and belives that yawns casting is a gift from Gaia, even if his brother is lost on the path. Siren is the only one of his children who got her fangs. His son die on a hunting raid in the swamp and his other daughter died of an illness at the age of 4. He lost 2 more mates over time one to mordok the other in childbirth. But he still lived his dreams that he had as a child now haunted him more and more and he feared that all the deeds he had done would be forgotten and he would not have the glory of dieing in battle. But times were changing at 36 he once again meet with humans and syndar, but this time not in battle but rather in peace. A group of adventures had come to the outpost and soon had proven themselves to be honorable. They helped save the outpost and village from other humans and mordok. From that day forward he realized he could call some friend.

Rumors:
At first when you meet him he is grumpy a fact he won’t deny, but get him in the right mood and he will tell you a good story.

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Valdir Jackal

Player Name: Nic Pitt

Character: Valdir Jackal

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Faction: The Rangers, as a mercenary

Age: He doesn’t like to talk about it because it’s older than Guthrum.

Bio:

I was born back on old Faedrun. My family came from Richtcrag, . One of the few families that were moved South due to the Undead and to live in a single place and possess farmable lands. My parents, whose names I could never remember, were killed when I was very young in a dispute of ownership. The farm was lost and I ended up an orphan left to wander the steppes between small settlements. I eventually made my way to the more permanent settlements in the south of Faedrun where I made my living as a cut-purse. As I grew older, I started to perform more serious tasks for various groups. Suffice it to say, I made sure their message was heard loud and clear to whoever they figured needed it. Once I had established myself with sufficient experience and coin, I traveled back to my family home. I delivered the current occupants a message that was long overdue. They caught on fast enough though, and the remaining few fled. For a time I returned to my roots, content to farm the land as my father had. Whenever I grew tired of the mundane affair of farming, I would venture back south for some more exciting work. This cycle continued for a time, until the dead came. I imagine many stories are now told this way. I survived the ordeal like most, alone and penniless in a new world, with new rules. There was plenty of work for those who had my skill set in this place. The peace with the locals had broken down and there were always plenty of messages that needed to be delivered as many different factions vied for control and influence over their new home. The day came I was approached by one of the strange local inhabitants of this new world, claiming lineage from some clan, grim something or another, it mattered not to me. He had a message to send and the coin to see its deliverance. That message proved to be one of the more arduous affairs of my life. I had to track down a “lion” as they called them, who were roaming about the countryside and make it look like “they was casualties of war” as it was. You see, it was easier then than it would have been now, relations with the locals bad as they were. Nasty armored zealots prattling on about their god of such and another even as they drew their last breaths. This started a downward spiral in my luck; on my journey back I constantly came across various other unfriendly individuals. My wounds began to grow deep, their toll was heavy. I found myself wandering in a daze of sweat and fever dreams until one day I awoke in a small camp. A man by the name of I’sa had found me unconscious in the forest and treated me. I questioned why a stranger would go to such lengths, to which he responded: “Got enough dead back home”. It was through this man I found my way to the Brotherhood of the Long Winter. It was led by a man they called Jarl Ivar. He led us north and established a small camp that was to grow into a settlement. Those days did not last. The Brotherhood was beset with hard times and harsh weather, and soon began to erode into something twisted. I left, when it became obvious that to stay was to fall with it.

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Katonomaru Himurashi

PLAYED BY: Antonio Archie
GENDER: Male
CLASS: Rogue
AGE: 23
RACE: Human (Naran)
HAIR: Black
EYES: Brown
OCCUPATION: Sell Sword
KNOWN SKILLS: Observation, Archery, swordsman
APPEARANCE: Stands around 6′ tall, shaved haircut except top, usually kept up. Clean shaven, wears light armor on black clothing
NOTABLE TRAITS: Kato is soft-spoken, more likely to hear than speak. He has a tendency to speak in proverbs, and is less condescending as a Naran would be. Has yet to meet the “spouse” portion of the three most precious entities: themselves, their family, spouse.
RELATIONSHIPS: None

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY: I am called Himurashi Katonomaru. I was born 23 years ago in the land of Aldoria. My mother met the next life as a result of my birth, and my father took an active fight against the Undead scourge. In my twelfth year, we had traveled to a land called Mardrun with the colony of New Hope. There my father lost his life to Ulven forces. For many years, my heart bore a resentment for those who had ended his life, but became clear along my travels. Now I make my way through this life seeking understanding, and to hold my honor defined in dignity. Not only this, but I wish to redeem myself for my hatred of the Ulven. Subete no sui wa meiyo shokan dey meiyo o ataeru.

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Felix Klein

Player Name: Ty Springer
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Race: Human
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Hazel
Occupation: Íoclaochra (Mercenary)
Known Skills: Archery, Ranged combat
Birthplace: Vandregon
Appearance: Wears a lot of dark colors and has a scar on his upper forehead.

When he was a small child, he was raised in Vandregon to a family displaced from Richtcrag. He was born to blacksmith named Adalgar who had begun to train his son in the trade when the undead began to invade. His family sent him away as soon as they heard of the undead pressing closer.

While sailing towards Mardrun, his ship was taken by pirates. Felix’s sarcasm and willingness to talk back to them ended up getting him struck by the captain’s sword in the head. He was then press-ganged into the crew and learned various forms of combat during his travels. Eventually, the captain retired and the crew split up, leading to Felix moving to Mardrun.

In Mardrun, he chose to adopt the identity of the Íoclaochra his father sold weapons to. While not the most honorable of the Íoclaochra, he still got commissioned for swamp excursions. While his last one failed, he made an ally with Heralt Von Khun-Wolff. They have since joined the Ravens.

UPDATE: (RETIRED)

Summer 270
Felix walked into Alestear’s tent. The two of them had been planning on going on the Dirge Swamp expedition and Felix wanted to confirm their plans. The one thing he didn’t expect was to find the baron sobbing in front of a letter.

“What’s all this about?” Felix asked, less out of concern and more out of shock.

“I can’t fight anymore.” Alestear said between sobs, “I can’t hurt anyone else.”

Felix clenched his fist and stared at the floor. “So what does that mean?” He asked through gritted teeth.

Alestear hands the letter to him with a shaky hand. “I can’t leave them behind and cause more pain.” Alestear pauses a moment and, despite Felix’s best attempts, looks him in the eye, “We could just walk away. Come with me. We can walk away from all this pain and suffering.”

Felix read the letter. His hands shook with each word and the growing realization that Alestear’s position was drastically different from his own. Each word cemented the two facts in Felix’s head; Alestear was cared for and he was not.

“What about this makes you think anyone would want me there?” feelings he didn’t realize he could have anymore boiled over. “They give a shit about you. You earned a retirement, you earned some peace. Me? I’m just a piece of shit who couldn’t help anyone, who doesn’t matter to anyone? What makes you think I wouldn’t be better off giving this life for someone who actually fucking matters?”

With every word his muscles tensed, this was a problem he couldn’t fight. All the pent up rage and grief had no outlet, so he fell to the floor. For the first time in a decade, Felix cried.

“No one is worth dying for,” Felix hadn’t noticed Alestear get up, cross the room, and place a hand on his shoulder. “And I want you around. I know everyone would be crushed if we lost and I don’t want to lose anyone else precious to me. There is enough pain and loss in this world.”

Felix bit his lip and turned away from his boss, the only person he ever truly respected. “You can’t make me believe the others give a shit, but I believe you do.” For the first time in so long, Felix let himself keep crying, “I just want to be someone worth caring about.”

“It is the hardest thing to feel for yourself. But you are more than worth it.” Alestear’s eyes were pleading, “Please, let’s just go.”

Felix sighed and couldn’t help but smile a little. “Okay.”

Fall 270
Felix slumped the bag over his left shoulder. The weather was calm and warm as he stood on the pier of Key’s Crossing. He didn’t have much in the way of belongings. Most of what he’d owned had been weaponry, and he didn’t need that where he was going.

The boat bobbed gently, its red and black flags waving in the wind. It took all his strength not to turn around and find the nearest bar, but he was tired of running away. Felix took a deep breath and walked up the ramp to the former Baron.

His doubts crept in as he walked. The friendly smiles of the Phoenix aboard were conniving grins. He felt hundreds of eyes staring. Felix tensed and held his trembling hand where his sword would usually be.

“I’m glad you came.” a familiar voice broke Felix’s paranoia. Alestear stood next to Saffiyah. She gave Felix an awkward but friendly smile which he returned with his own. Alestear looked happy for the first time since Felix knew him.

“Yeah,” Felix said, “I am too.”

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Cordyn Lockwell

PLAYED BY: Cody Jackson

GENDER: Male

CLASS: Warrior

AGE: 30

RACE: Human

HAIR: Brown

EYES: Brown

OCCUPATION: Former Caravan Guard turned “Adventurer” now Currently the Magistrate of Key’s Crossing and Headmaster of The Ravens University

KNOWN SKILLS: Being a pain in the ass, but a competent Alchemist

BIRTHPLACE: Vandregon

RELATIONSHIPS: Traveling Companion with Gwynevive Cotorelle, Friend of The Phoenix, Magistrate and Headmaster of the Ravens

RUMORS: Heard he once talked his way out of being murdered by Lorespeakers, but no really he did.

The True History of Cordyn Lockwell

Part One: On Caravans and Backstories

Year: 261 (21 Years Old)

Cordyn quietly walked next to the ornate covered cart, absentmindedly fiddling with the strap keeping his shield secured to his back. He’d long forgotten about the dull ache in his feet from his worn boots on the hard dirt roads. It had been a few days since they had seen much more than a small shanty town and he’d yet to find a leather-worker or a cobbler able to make him a new pair of shoes that wouldn’t have fallen apart within a week of hardship that he put his footwear through.

A sudden voice snapped Cordyn out of his day dreaming as a man came stamping up from behind the wagon. He was easily ten to fifteen years older than Cordyn and was dressed in fine clothes that showed his merchant status even through the thick coat of road dust that he had accumulated in his traveling.

“I’m getting so damned sick of these travel rations! Gods among us what I wouldn’t give for a real meal!” The man threw a small, dense nut bar into the dirt and Cordyn cracked a small smile.

“Oh Vistero, do you ever stop complaining?” Cordyn chided, picking up the bar and tucking it into a pouch on his belt.

“Oh, you aren’t really going to save that, are you?” Vistero asked in faux disbelief. He already knew the answer, and Cordyn already knew his retort.

“Well you know, I wouldn’t have to if you paid me better.”

“And you know damn well that I pay you far more than you’re worth as a sell-sword, Cordyn. You know if I didn’t like you so much, I would have stopped paying for your services after your first contract was up years ago!” Vistero snapped playfully while Cordyn imitated him using his hand as a puppet. “Hey! Stop that! You’re a lousy swordsman, you know that, right?”

“I’d say I’m a mite better than you are, Vistero.” Both men smiled for a moment before Vistero’s face grew slightly more serious.

“You know. We’ve been traveling together for five years and you’ve never told me about how you came to be on that boat where we met. Now I know all about the part where I told you that you had a nice sword and you told me that it was for sale. We had a lovely little misunderstanding and that’s how you came into my employ. But how did you end up on that ship with that sword in the first place?”

Cordyn’s face hardened slightly. It was hard to think of what his life had been on Faedrun and how everything changed so quickly. He had spent most of his time in Mardrun assuming his family was still alive back in the old world. That maybe the undead scourge hadn’t touched them somehow. It became harder and harder, however, to ignore the chatter that Vandregon and Aldoria had been crushed and that Faedrun as he had known it was no more. Still, maybe it would help him to talk about it.

“Well. I guess I might as well tell you. I was born in a small village in Vandregon outside of the capitol…”

Our village was barely a drop of ink on the map. Not many people passed through, and those who did tended not to bother to stop. Now before you get ahead of yourself, this isn’t one of those stories where my little village was beset by marauders and I, as the lone survivor, picked up my father’s sword and swore vengeance upon my enemies. If that were the case, I’d hope I would be a better swordsman. No, while this story may be sad, it’s nowhere near as dramatic.

I had a happy childhood. We heard whispers about the undead plague, but our little hamlet seemed to be in a world of its own away from it all. My father was a farmer. He grew mostly grains for breads and beers, but he grew enough vegetables to help keep the village running as well. My mother was a seamstress. First by necessity; farmers and adolescent boys tend to wear through their clothes rather quickly, but later by trade when her handiwork was seen throughout the village. Things were good. They were quiet. When I was around twelve I started to spend time with the apothecary, making runs into the woods for reagents and portioning them out for the apothecary to mix into salves and potions. I’d spend my time in the forests pretending to be a sword wielding adventurer as I plucked morels and roots. I would always stop by the blacksmith’s shop on my way out to look at the swords in the windows. I think my father took notice.

It wasn’t for a few more years that we would even start to feel like there was really something going wrong outside of our little bubble. When I was sixteen my father gave me this sword and enough money to book passage on a ship to Mardrun. He knew something was coming and we didn’t have enough money for us all to get out. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay and be with my family, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He told me that when I get to New Hope if I ever needed money to sell the sword. It was supposed to be a gift when I turned seventeen, but he felt time was running out. My parents escorted me to the docks and watched me leave.

And now with what we’ve been hearing…I doubt they’re still alive back there.

“So that’s why you told me that sword was for sale.” Vistero shook his head lightly, “And that does explain why you’re so gods awful with it. I am sorry about your parents, Cordyn, but your father was a smart man. I also sensed that something big was coming and that chances to get out were dwindling. That’s how I ended up on that boat with you. For what it’s worth, I’m glad to have you here with me, even if it’s just because I pay you.”

Part Two: Magic Tomes and a Burgeoning Taste for Adventure

Years: 261-264

Age: 21-24

Cordyn continued to travel with Vistero for the next few years. While other caravan guards came and went over the years, Cordyn was always there. He did manage to pick up a little more sword skills by training with the others. He always had a hard time finding a good cobbler on the road and Vistero never really got used to the taste of travel rations, so when the two ended up in decent sized towns they always made sure to make the most of it.

Sometime in the summer of 263, Cordyn came across a book during a brief stop-over in New Hope between outings. The book contained introductory lessons into Arcane teachings and he quickly stowed it away for further reading.

The tome opened up Cordyn’s eyes to a world of possibilities outside of his current line of work. He poured through it anytime the caravan stopped for the night, silently reading to himself. He even developed a type of walking-meditation that he would practice while Vistero slept in the back of a cart. While the book didn’t delve into the real-world applications of mana weaving, it opened Cordyn’s eyes to the ever-present mana stream that surrounded him and he practiced during most of his free time to learn to tap into it.

The first time Cordyn tapped into the mana stream, he was so excited and overwhelmed that he immediately lost contact and gave himself a slight case of backlash. He was more careful and more reserved in the future, but he quickly came up on a road block in his studies. He was to the point where the book could no longer help him. He could tap into the mana stream, but he had no idea how to do anything with that knowledge. He needed a teacher and as much as he enjoyed his time with Vistero, he needed an adventure.

“There’s a whole world out there, Vistero. I’m getting tired of walking the same roads again and again. I want to go out and find my place. I want to learn magic.” Cordyn explained to his old friend, “It’s nothing against you. I’m very grateful for everything you’ve done for me. It’s just…well it’s just -”

“It’s just that your twenty-four, Cordyn. I completely understand, you don’t have to explain it to me. I’ve known you for seven years now. I’m just surprised it’s taken you this long to get itchy feet.” Vistero smiled knowingly. “You know, I was your age once, boy. I remember what it was like to want to find my place in the world. I’m just lucky I found it so young.”

Cordyn felt his relief wash over himself. He had been trying to find a way to tell Vistero that he was interested in leaving the caravan for weeks.

“Tell you what. You stick it out with me until you find a good start to your adventure. We travel through plenty of towns. Now that you’re open, I’m sure it won’t take long to find what you’re looking for.”

“Thanks Vistero. For everything.”

Cordyn didn’t stay much longer with Vistero. Within a few months he bumped into a Syndar woman who shared his thirst for adventure, and lucky for Cordyn, she happened to be an arcane mage. She agreed to travel with him and try to teach him about magic as long as she could accompany him on his adventures. He may have embellished a bit when she asked him if he was good with his sword . . .

UPDATE:

Life took a series of interesting and unforeseen turns for Cordyn as he tried to find his way in the world. His interest in herbalism and arcane magic eventually distilled itself into a lasting love and aptitude for Alchemy. Cordyn invented a few interesting and unique potions and through this found himself on the payroll of The Ravens. Life continued to twist and turn and in time and after a night he will never forget, Cordyn found himself giving up the sword, sickened by the quickness with which it draws blood.

In the Fall of the year 269 the Baron, Alestear seemed to have completely vanished from Keys Crossing, but truthfully he’d been absent in all ways but physical for long before that. With no one else stepping up to steer the ship, Cordyn felt that he would have to take the responsibility. Alongside his guidance the settlement began a stark shift away from it’s former status as a house of nobility and toward something that could more adequately help all of the people of Mardrun. Public Markets and a Grand Public University were built attracting merchants and traders to the streets of Keys Crossing and soon Cordyn found himself not as a leader, but as a humble voice for the people of Keys Crossing with The Ravens acting as his ears among the populace.

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Haralt Von Khun-Wolff

Player Name: Jared Helgestad
Character Name: Haralt von Khün-Wolff
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Race: Human
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Greyish Blue
Occupation: Íoclaochra (Mercenary or ‘Paid Warrior’)
Known Skills: Melee combat
Birthplace: Richtcrag
Appearance: Always dressed in nice, red and black clothing with large sleeves and a fancy hat, thick accent, and a lot of weapons.

Haralt was born in the Kupferhügel region of Richtcrag. His father was named Burslav and was an Íoclaochra. Burslav started training him to become an Íoclaochra like he was, but not long after the undead blight began to worsen. Fearing for the life of his son, he sent Haralt with his uncle, a fellow Íoclaochra who was recently injured and could no longer fight at the time, named Joramir to Mardrun to wait out the war and return if it turned around. It obviously did not turn around and needing a way to make a living in a new world, his uncle continued training Haralt.

Once he was fully trained and his uncle thought he was ready they loaned out their services as mercenaries and hired muscle to random thugs and people who could pay. Some time later Haralt and his uncle were hired to help escort some Syndar who was interested in researching the swamps and the Mordok. After a long time away, only Haralt returned and resumed taking jobs when he could until he got enough of a reputation to be hired for better work. He was then hired for another excursion towards the swamps, which ended badly again. But this time he and one other survived, another Íoclaochra named Felix Klein. They decided to partner together and eventually they were hired by the Ravens.