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Afric Camden

Age 23

Class: Rogue

Starkhaven. In spite of the high walls and marching soldiers, young Aifric knew that this place was no more a haven to her than any of the other towns and settlements where she’d lived before. Every city was supposed to be the start of a new life, new scenery, a way out. And then they’d draw her in again, promising her money, promising her freedom, and every time, she fell for it. She let herself slip. It had always been this way, since she was little. The parents who’d exploited her were long gone now – she was on her own – but it didn’t matter. Impoverished in the war-torn colonies meant you had to do anything to survive. There was no escaping the danger.It was winter. She didn’t know what it was she was supposed be smuggling – Mordok weapons, or stolen wine, perhaps; it didn’t matter, because when she arrived at the drop-off point, they were missing. Stolen from the thieves. Unfortunately, this didn’t mean she got to take the night off. She was already running late, thanks to some side-jobs running long, and had an employer to report to. And they wouldn’t be happy – this very simple job had just become very dangerous. There were consequences for failure. She bit her lip and shook nervously. This was routine – these things happened, and it hadn’t killed her yet – but that didn’t make it any less terrifying.The wind bit through her rags as she meandered back to his house. She knew she shouldn’t stall for time – it would only make the punishment worse – but she couldn’t help it. She was scared to so much as see his front door. She circled through town a few times – past the old library she liked to sneak into after dark. Past the armory where she taught herself swordplay when no one was on guard. She didn’t see the soldier who’d noticed her suspicious behavior.She remembered arriving, and what happened next was a blur. It went poorly. He was drunk and enraged. When the sounds of violence echoed in the street, the soldier – a battle cleric of the Fists of Arnath – burst into the house, sword in hand. He was strong, but too hasty.Aifric awoke, her head surging with pain. The front door was still open, and the sun hadn’t come out yet. There was frost on the pool of blood she was swimming in. Her body was numb and frostbitten, her muscles weak and quivering. The gaping hole in her abdomen didn’t look real – her vision blurred when she saw it. The battle cleric lay dead – beheaded – by her side. But somehow, she was still alive.Coughing up globs of red and black fluid, her hands trembling, she ripped the knight’s armor and clothes from their body. He was about her size – it fit, roughly. Aifric stood up, clutching her wound but clad in mail. Wrapped in steel and wearing Arnath’s symbol, for the first time in her life, she almost felt safe. All at once, she knew – she had to get out of here, forever. She was already planning, plotting, thinking of the refugees fleeing the crumbling city. She would go with them, serve as their guard. She wasn’t a real knight, much less a priest, but she could pretend. This was her last hope.Upon arriving at the Archon’s Spire, a new settlement filled mostly with refugees from Starkhaven, she took up a position in the town’s militia. The refugees were people like her – peasants, laborers, runaways. When she was young, no one had been there to protect her. But if she could help it, she wouldn’t allow anyone else to go through what she did.Aifric had always been fascinated by history, by culture, by language. She spent half her time among the books – it was a small collection, but growing, little by little. It was there that she met them – the sorcerer Vazra, and the other Archons as well. Intent on learning more magical and historic lore, as well as mastering the divine magic she’d read so much about, she elected to join their ranks.She felt reborn. Although the Order was unaware of her existence, upon dedicating herself to the god who saved her, she was blessed with power nonetheless. But she never spoke of her past – the life of crime and depravity – she promised herself the others would never know. Bent on living as a true and legitimate knight of Arnath, she tried to forget the life she’d left behind. At last, she could begin anew. But the wars would rage on, and danger was always at the door…

PLAYED BY: Rydge Craker
CHARACTER NAME: Oak Harrison
GENDER: Male
CLASS: Rogue
AGE: 25
RACE: Human
HAIR: Shaved
EYES: Green
OCCUPATION: Alchemist
KNOWN SKILLS: Alchemist, Dual Wielder, Brave, Loyal, Business Man
BIRTHPLACE: Aldoria (Childhood), Crows Landing (Adulthood)
APPEARANCE: Tall, built, charismatic man.
NOTABLE TRAITS: Addicted to food, enjoys spending time with and talking to animals, slightly crazy.
RELATIONSHIPS: Rangers
RUMORS: Greatest Alchemist of All Time!
BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:

The first memory I have is a grim one; ten years old and yet enough trauma to hurt just about anyone. Clearer than any other memory I have. It was raining the day my parents were brutally murdered by the attacks of the penitent. We had heard screams coming for what seemed like hours before they finally attacked. My mother, Marie, and my father, Torvald, hid with me in the small inlet beneath the stone staircase that connected the basement to the rest of our house. Moments passed like hours as the beads of sweat on my forehead slid down my face. I could feel my heart pounding on my temples. I knew something was about to go wrong the moment I heard our door slam to the ground. My mother cupped her hand around my mouth to try and silence the imminent terror that was about to overtake me. I could hear footsteps tracing their way across the floor upstairs. Each one caused my stomach to sink lower and lower. After a few more thuds, my father finally stood up. He turned around with a look in his eyes—A look that I was not familiar with. I know now that it was the look of utter defeat, but back then I just thought it was fear. He nodded and without saying anything, he brushed our cheeks and walked up the stairs slowly. After he left, Mother stood up and started covering the area we were hiding in with rags and sheets in an attempt to camouflage it. She settled back in next to me and went silent. A few seconds of unbearable silence passed before I heard the unforgettable schlik of a sword sliding through the flesh of someone’s neck. There were no screams… only laughter—a laugh that most certainly didn’t belong to my father. The footsteps of the invader began making their way down the stone steps. Mother kissed my head, held her breath and pushed her way out of the hiding place. A few tears ran down her face. To this day, those moments still haunt me. If she hadn’t gone out there and distracted the man, he would’ve found both of us. I bit my lip as my mother’s scream pierced the silence, followed shortly by the thud of her decapitated head hitting the floor. I still don’t know why the man didn’t check the area more thoroughly, but he left shortly after killing them. I really try not to question it. Perhaps it was a favor from the gods. I don’t know. All I knew at the time was that I was a newly orphaned ten year old living in the house where my parents were murdered, in a city that had just been raided. I knew I had to get out, and with no family and nowhere to go, I sought refuge in Vandregon, knowing that a country with a larger army would stand a far better chance against whatever it was that had raided us.

The trek took me many days. My mother, being an alchemist, had been teaching me her art since I was about five years old. If I hadn’t known how to make basic medicines and poisons, I don’t think I could’ve made it there by myself. I’m still not sure how I did it. I was a resilient child.

I arrived just in time to see that Vandregon wasn’t doing as well as I had hoped. They were at war and the raids were already happening. I had heard speak about ships leaving out of the port for a new continent. Knowing it could very well be my only hope, I stowed away on the first ship I could find.

On the ship I made very few friends, save one: Elijah Cole. He helped me stay hidden and in exchange I showed him my knowledge of alchemy, while I claimed that I was the thing I had always strived to be: the greatest alchemist of all time.

When we finally made it to Mardrun, Elijah and I parted ways. I began working on my alchemy, hoping to make a career out of it. Over time I picked up a few sword-fighting techniques to help me get by when times were tough.

After about 15 years I asked to join a faction called the Rangers as they were in need of an alchemist and I was in need of a stable job. They seemed like a tight family that would watch my back as I watched theirs. It was then that I was reunited with Elijah, the one whom had actually pulled some strings to allow me to join. I was hoping this would start a new leaf in my life.

PLAYED BY: Brianna Novy

CHARACTER NAME: Mia Tellistri

GENDER: Female

CLASS: Rogue

AGE: 23

RACE: Human

HAIR: Blonde

EYES: Blue

OCCUPATION: Herbalist

KNOWN SKILLS: Cooking. Archery. Herbology.

BIRTHPLACE: Aldoria

APPEARANCE: Petite. Medium height.

NOTABLE TRAITS: Friendly. Chatterbox.

RELATIONSHIPS: Rangers.

RUMORS: “Was she in Oaks tent again?”

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY: I was very young when the wars started. So young that I hardly remember much of what happened back then. Of what little I do remember, my father was a politician and my mother stayed home to watch over my younger brother and myself. I also remember my father coming home from work very stressed and angry. My parents would fight while they thought I was asleep in bed. I heard their murmurs about the war and undead attacks. I knew my father wanted to leave, the king had already abandoned us and so too did others. However, we stayed for my mother’s sake. She was born and raised in that small, one story house. She was always telling us that there were too many memories floating around for her to ever want to leave.

Eventually, the war got too close to home and we were forced to evacuate. I remember seeing my mother screaming with tears in her eyes as father dragged her away from the only place she knew. Father put us on a boat, saying we were going on an adventure to a faraway place. The journey started out fun and exciting for my current eight year old self, but soon turned into the worst days of my life. Sickness spread around the hall and soon my brother and I became sick. I still can only remember being so sick, and mother’s teary eyes, as she told me my little brother had gone to a better place.

Finally we made it to land. I was still recovering from the illness when we landed and everything after that is hazy to me. When I came to, I was at a small town that went by the name Crows Landing. The people were very accepting of us and we fit in well at first. I was a fragile young girl that had just lost her brother at the time, but over the years I learned to become the woman I am today. The winters became increasingly hard for the town and for many years we struggled to get by. The government at Crows Landing became corrupt and started spending money they didn’t have for reasons nobody understood.

This led my family to turn inwards for help and we mostly relied on our own resources to get by during these troubling times. I started to develop a liking to herbology because it was the only way my parents would let me help at the time. I would take long walks into the woods and pick herbs for the family to get away from everything happening in town.

Finally relief came in the form of visitors wearing red and green. They saw the state of our little town and decided to help us for reasons I cannot even explain. They brought us the resources and materials we desperately needed and soon our town was thriving once again. Now that I am older and my parents are being taken care of, I have a strong urge to spread my wings. I met some people on my adventures into the woods. They called themselves the Rangers. One even told me that if I learned to fight, I would make a good asset to their group because of my Herbology background. I went home that day and picked up a sword. When that had failed because of my petite stature, I found a bow and arrow. Ever since then I have been honing my skills in archery, so that I could one day join the odd men I had met long ago.

Shortly after creating our troop of misfits Oak came to me with the notion that he wanted to go on an adventure. He felt that playing militia for the Phoenix, though rewarding, was not where he had wanted to be at this point in his life. I agreed to go with him if the day came that he decided to leave. We tried to convince Elijah to come with us on our adventure, but he chose to stay with the group that we had created.

So after a few short months, Oak and I were packing our bags. We decided that we would travel to the Syndar islands. Elijah was a Syndar and would spend many a night telling us stories of his people. I was enraptured with the culture and beliefs they had and Oak had heard of a place that created beautiful, powerful weapons.

For five years we traveled the continent, exploring new towns, foods, and cultures. We met up with a small tribe of Syndarians deep in the forest that believed in the power that the natural world possessed. We stayed with them the longest on our adventure. I was fascinated by their beliefs. They didn’t have a god or goddess per say that they called to, but instead they prayed to the natural way of the world – though it can’t be said if there was someone behind the scenes that came when they called. They believed everything, from the grass you walk on to the trees swaying overhead, was alive and had powerful magic deep within them.

I learned a lot from the tribe. They taught me more about natural medicines and the reagents that were needed for them. They showed me some new techniques to harvest reagents more effectively. And eventually after long hours of working with them and by them, they began to teach me their prayers. They would pray to the mother bear that protects their cubs with ferocity and might. They would pray to the butterfly for its wings of flight. They would pray to the river currents for its ebb and flow.

They had a prayer for every single living thing in the forest and each new prayer that I witnessed was accompanied by a beautiful set of hand movements. Oak had tried to join in on the prayers a few times, but his body was so stiff and rigid from the years spent sword fighting that he never truly got the movements. He seemed to focus more on the analytical side of magic anyway, eventually picking up some of the secrets to arcane magic.

I can still remember the first time I was witness to the magic of the world. A small Syndar boy had jumped out of a tree and broke his arm in the fall. He had wailed and wailed in pain, but the moment the shaman opened her mouth he was entranced. That day she prayed to the sky for the light it brings. And before my very eyes the boy’s arm had reset itself with little more than a snap.

It felt like a lifetime living among the Syndar people, but before we knew it we were saying our goodbyes. We had decided that our adventure was over. We had been sent word from Elijah of a group he had met on his travels seeking to recruit a couple of fighters. Soon enough we were making our way to Shieldhaven to meet up with the Guardians of the Wall. I had continued to practice the prayers of the Syndar tribe as we traveled. Letting the way of divine nature guide me in my movements and honing my magic. I hope that in time, I may become as powerful as the syndarian shamans I met so long ago. But as for now, I will continue to practice my craft and aid the Guardians for as long as I am able.

Al Mo’alej

Played by: Paul A Peterson

Contact info: ppeterson@pelicanfire.com; Paul Vago Peterson on Facebook

Character Name: Nasir ibm Halim al Mo’alej al Kae’Rim

Character Name(Meaning): Nasir(helper), son of Halim(patient, tolerant, mild), the healer, of the Kae’Rim

Gender: Male

Class: Cleric

Age: 47

Race: Half-Syndar(using Syndar mechanics)

Hair: Blonde

Eyes: Blue

Occupation: Healer

Known Skills: Healer, Liason between Ul-Brana tribe and May’Kar of Mardrun

Birthplace: An oasis in the May’Kari desert.

Appearance: Slightly taller than 6 foot, with slightly pointed ears. Clean shaven.

Notable Traits:
Does not carry a weapon
Believes in the sanctity of all life
Will try to heal all wounded, allies or enemies
Believes that true healing comes from within as well as without

Backstory: I remember it well. The tribal elders told us Ul-Brana tribe was to guide the Vandregonian army to the gates of Saresh to end the Risen King. They told us that by doing this, we were gaining passage to a new world, a world where the dead do not rise. We boarded a large ship and came to Mardrun after the Risen King fell.

When we made it to the new world, we heard the truth from the May’Kar refugees. The truth, that while the Vandregonian army did end the Risen King, they also slaughtered the residents of Saresh and destroyed the city. Our tribe has continued to travel in the area around Serai in Mardrun, attempting to right this wrong, and help the May’Kar in the new world make a place for themselves.

I have taken up my family skills. I tend to those wounded in fighting. I have given up my sword as the undead are no longer a threat to our lives, and we no longer have need for fighting them. I now focus all of my skills on fighting undo death, for all life is sacred. This fight, I know is one I cannot win, but I must not allow another slaughter.

In one of my early visits with the traders in Serai, I met a Syndar in red and black, by the name of Rindis. In our travels we continued to cross paths until finally, I asked her to join my tribe. She agreed to leave her tribe, the Phoenix, and join the Kae’Rim, where she now assists me with healing the wounded, and tending to the ails that I have not yet mastered.

I feel that true healing does not start until your mind, body, and soul are as one. Unity in these are foremost to purity. I will strive to remain pure to the end of my life.

Astrid Cathubodua

Astrid was born to the harsh winters of northern Vandregonian lands in an independent, nomadic tribe. Born with a strong sense of community and loyalty to her family, she was always a dreamer and told wild stories of visions she constantly had. Over time she kept having the same dream again and again of a crow with ice blue eyes calling her to a greater purpose. The more she dreamt, the more stories she shared and the more her people became nervous.

Hers were words of blasphemy if the wrong ears would hear her. She began to speak of great beings and eventually started to refer to them as gods. Her stories continued until she shared a different creation story from what she was taught and the deeper she sought answers the more she began to receive darker visions. Suffering from night terrors her dreams became plagued with humans being torn asunder by the hordes of undead. Eventually these dreams were visited upon her own people. One by one their numbers dwindled and the families would break apart into other groups they found solace and protection in.

Astrid refused to leave those that would remain until it was her and a few others left. That was when tragedy would strike its final blow before her deliverance. Her small band set up camp one last night before being destroyed to leave her running for her life though the darkness. The chill of winter was in the air as autumn leaves crunched under her feet; her were lungs on fire, and legs threatened to give out… and they did. Crying out toward the heavens and filled with divine fervor, she cast back the undead that pursued her. A bright flash of light illuminated the sky, and a tree standing between Astrid and those pursuing her erupted into splinters and flames. Her will overpowering her instincts, Astrid refrained from shielding her eyes and, in doing so, witnessed a mighty branch fall from the now decimated tree, separating her from the undead with a wall of flames. Her eyes scanned the horizon, searching for anything: a sign, an ally, a way out. Through the fields at the treeline stood her salvation. Ivar witnessed a divine light burning in the distance and with his group descended upon the scene to rescue the girl. Eyes both the color of winter met and a vision was shared. A crow rising from the darkness with ice blue eyes.

Astrid was taken in and became Ivar’s shield maiden, prophetess, and priestess. The lore she shared that came to her in dreams were visions shared by some others of their faction. Taking a name after their goddess and donning a cloak rimmed in black feathers, she protects her new family with shield and divine word. Head matron of the Brotherhood of the Long Winter Astrid is charged as her people’s lead religious figure, lore keeper, and shrewd diplomat.

Player: Charlie Corcoran
Character Name: I’sa
Class: Rogue Race: Human
Background
My name is I’sa and I was born in the year 234. From birth I was to be cursed with a life of hardship, grief and being thrown aside as an outcast. I was born in the May’kar Dominion where my mother used to tell me stories about an independent and proud people. Who would have known that these stories would make me the person I am today? From what I remember, my mother was a beautiful woman with a passion for nature and the riches it could provide. She operated a small alchemist store where she spent most of her time creating potions for the Aldorian Armies. When she had any free time she would try to spend the most of it with me. I know nothing of my father and nor do I care to ever find out.
I spent my life growing up in the Kingdom of Aldoria. I was too young to remember the undead turning my people to darkness, but I was reminded daily by those I grew up around. We were the lucky ones that just happened to be on a caravan delivering unique ingredients in exchange for medical supplies to Aldoria when our kingdom fell to the undead. There were twelve of us on the journey, though only my mother and I did not return to our home. Growing up was an everyday battle, from being called a traitor for what my people did to just getting my ass kicked. I had to learn early how to fight just so the other kids knew that if they tried anything, I wasn’t going to make it easy. My mother raised me alone and I helped around the shop picking up the skills that I would need later in life. Life went on like this until the day my life was again turned upside down.
I was eighteen when the cheers echoed through our small village about the defeat of the May’Kar. Everyone was overjoyed and one could have thought there was a festival being held. We could over hear people walking by our dilapidated house saying, “Well, there are still two that haven’t been butchered yet,” and we knew we wouldn’t be able to stay here much longer. My ailing mother wouldn’t make it on a long journey and anyway, where would we go? Two months later my mother passed and I was left to fend for myself, until a chance encounter would change my life forever.
It was a night of terrible storms where one could get lost going from one end of the village to the other when a “knock” came to my door. Normally only people collecting money would knock, but maybe someone finally had the balls to come to try an make this my final night. As I opened the door I saw 3 large men wearing armor like I had never seen before. “What?” was the only word I could think to say, knowing I probably wouldn’t live to say another. He almost chuckled at me and turned around to show me 2 wounded men who would not make it without healing. With no more healers around due to the war I was his only chance. I stared at him and said, “I will save them, but you must let me join you and get me out of these lands.” I didn’t care who they were or what they were doing. I just knew that I didn’t want to wait for death, may it be by the people around me or the fast approaching undead.
Over the next few years we did what was necessary to survive. The day we heard that Aldoria had fallen was the happiest day of my life. Everyone else was talking about how this was the end of days and how we are doomed to the undead. I was probably the only person thinking about throwing my own little festival. We made the decision to take what money we could get our hands on and help us secure passage to this proclaimed New World. I say whatever is to become of our future it will be better than what has happened in the past. No compasion! No remorse! My new family will survive no matter the cost that we must endure!

Player: Steven Sachleben
Character: Grunt
Race: Human
Class: Warrior

Bio: This is a tale of a man who had to survive discrimination, abandonment and near death, just for him to have a chance to find his place in the world. This tale begins with his birth. The man was born in to a noble family. But, unfortunately for the man he had been born dumb. Five years after his birth it became clear that he was never going to be able to speak. This brought shame to the family name. To deal with this shame, the head of the family ordered the man’s parents to have him killed. Because of the love the parents had for their first and only son they faked his death and had him taken away in secrecy.

The man lived locked away for 12 years and his only connection to the outside word was his caretaker Ramona and the few times a year his parents came to visit. But because of Ramona losing her son at birth then shortly after that losing her husband to a bandit raid, she sees the young master as her own son. Over the years Ramona taught him how to read, write and even how to do math. During his 17th year his parents came to visit and told him that the whole family was leaving to live in a different land, but, they are going to have to sneak on to the boat. They also told him while on the boat that he must stay hidden at all times. When the boat hit land Ramona over heard the young masters family planning to kill him. So she went to get him and ran as fast as they could from the Situation . Unfortunately when they were making there escape, his family found out and went after them. when Ramona and the man were trying to make there escape. Ramona took an arrow in the knee. Ramona then told the man to leave her behind. With hesitation he did as she said and left her to her fate.

After escaping from his family, the man got himself lost in the forest. Traveling alone for the first time in a new land . The nights were long and the trails lonely and dangerous . Scary noises night after night . Then the hunger set in. Not knowing how to fend for himself in the woods left him scared and hungry. Then it happened . The noises now had a face large and black. Then the pain, strong blow to the head leaving him unconscious. After the attack the man awoke with no memories of who he was and anything that had happened in his life before waking up . Looking around he found nothing but a small group of strange looking people staring at him and a older man trying to attend to his needs .The older man explains how he found him unconscious And wishes to heal him back to heath. He also tells him that his name is Ivar. With no memories of whom he was and feeling he owes Ivar for saving his life he decided to travel with him and do whatever he can to pay him back. After years of traveling, Iver trains the younger man he now calls Grunt, to be his bodyguard. Grunt finally found a place where he feels he belongs.

Player Name: Tyler S. Dubey
Character Name: Volrok “Battle-born” Hinrich
Gender: Semi-Blood Crazed Male
Age: 27 (came over on boat)
Race: Human
Hair: Reddish Brown
Facial Hair: Bright Red
Eyes: Hazel
Occupation: Íoclaochra or “Paid Warrior”
Known Skills: Armor Prof. (0), Imp. Armor Prof. (1), Shield Prof. (2), Shield Expert (8), Poison Resist (4)
Birthplace: Cul’Claimete (Northern Most Lairdship ), Deighcrag
Appearance: Feathered Cap, Partial Plate Armor, Chainmail, and an upturned mustache
Notable Traits: Can be heard from a notable distance due to armor, very flamboyant style, accent is extremely strong.
Bio:
Deep in the north of the Cul’Claimete of Richtcrag, in the northern most lairdship called Deighcraig, where summer was just a thawing of the ground and the rest of the seasons were snow and ice, was where Volrok was born. Now Volrok’s mother is unknown to him, but what he does know is that she died protecting him from a swarm of Undead when they invaded Deighcraig. This left his father to care and protect him as a mere babe as they fled the massive wave of undeath. At least this is what his Íoclaochra father, Torcoll “The Crimson” Hinrich told him. But that did not matter; what mattered was that he had a father that was willing to raise and teach him the ways of the local Íoclaochra. Now, most Íoclaochra were fairly similar in Cul’Claimete – drunken, battle-proud warriors whose capacity for drink was outmatched only by their love of fighting, but the small group up in Deigcraig were of a slightly different breed. They were some of the most honorable and gentlemanly warriors when not in battle, not like the rest of the Cul’Claimete Íoclaochra. They viewed that a constant stupor of alcohol could dull the senses and weaken them in battle. However, there was another tradition that made the Íoclaochra of Deigcraig different. It was rite of passage, seen by the warriors of Deigcraig as the most common – and some say, honorable – way to join the ranks of the Íoclaochra. Those whom completed this rite are called Battle-born. In the words of Volrok “Being a battle-born is a grand honor. As for what it means, it means to be born again through battle. A baptism of blood if you would.” To become a battle-born, one simply has to go into and stay in a blood rage for an extended period of time.

As for Volrok his rite happened, rather unfortunately, on his second paid engagement as an Íoclaochra. He was to guard a laird’s daughter from brigands, ne’er-do-wells, and others who might wish to exploit her station and threaten her family while she went to the market. While he wasn’t looking, the young lady was pulled into an alleyway and was about to be taken by several hired blades. Thankfully, the young lady could scream quite loudly; loud enough for Volrok to hear over the din of the market place. Disgusted at himself for letting her get pulled into the alley, the sight of the thugs dragging his charge whom he sworn to protect being dragged away, Volrok went into his very first blood rage. Sadly, even though he killed one of the thugs and mortally wounded another, he suffered a heavy blow in return, severely injuring his right knee. To this day, it will occasionally lock up due to the cut ligament. When the young lady spoke of this to her father, the local laird, as well as Torcoll, Volrok was given the the honorary title Battle-born despite his youth and inexperience.

A year after this, Torcoll heard of some promising work over on the new continent of Mardrun. Before Volrok got a say in the matter, his entire Íoclaochra company of twenty strong warriors, went to cross the sea. When they got to Mardrun, the promised wealth failed to appear – instead, they found only chaos. Clashes between the Ulven and the Colonists happened constantly, and the company was given little to no pay for their services at this time, lumped in with the other desperate refugees seeking to flee from the undead and even called scoundrels for adhering to their code of requiring payment for their services. Over time, and after the death of ten of their men, the fragile peace between the Ulven and the Colonists gained traction. This put the company practically out of business – at least, until the threat of the Mordok grew large enough for the Colonists to take notice.

The Mordok, as his father said, were “A blessing from the Battle Father!” This put the company back in business and they were beginning to make a nice profit. Their final job as a company was to be the one that finally found them with enough riches to outfit even the highest of Lairds – escorting a caravan from Starkhaven. Then, it happened: a massive Mordok raid took the caravan by complete surprise, slipping past their posted watch. Volrok was ordered to escort the surviving merchants to the nearest village or outpost for safety. To this day, he still remembers his father’s final words as a Mordok arrow pierced his heart – “COME BEAST! IF I AM TO DIE, THEN LET MY BLADE BE SOAKED WITH MORDOK BLOOD! FOR HONOR AND GLORY! FOR THE BATTLE FATHER!” Now, Volrok did not turn around to aid Torcoll, nor did he go to try and avenge him. No, he was taught better – the contract always came first. He quickly rushed the merchants to Daven’s Reach and then returned to the site of the ambush with a small company of guards. No bodies where ever found.

That event was nine cycles ago, and Volrok has matured into a fine Íoclaochra. He continues on the tradition of the Battle-born name and gives his praise to his chosen god, The Battle Father. Now, here in Mardrun, the Battle Father is practically unheard of – except for those scant few survivors from Cul’Claimete. To explain this rather peculiar religion, one must start at the beginning. According to legend, all the deities wished peace for what they created, but the Battle Father was wise, and knew if there was nothing but peace for these creatures, they would perish if ever faced with true hardship. So he went before the rest of the gods and spoke his wisdom to them. The other gods laughed at what they deemed foolish nonsense, but soon, their people began to perish due to plagues and the violence of wild beasts, so they went to the Battle Father and begged him to save their works. With a single swing of his sword, he cut the veil of peace that was laid over the world. To this day, you can still see the scar in the night sky, the Great Scar, whose glory shines even brighter over Mardrun. From here, it is said that only a select few were given knowledge of his deeds and spoke little of the Battle Father. But eventually, a cleric in Deighcraig came forth and gave this knowledge to the local Íoclaochra after a vision of the Battle Father’s legendary blow to destroy the weakness that had once threatened all creations of the gods. They came to see the Battle Father as the one that gave them the skill and strength to survive in such a war-ravaged land.

Currently, Volrok is one of the very few Íoclaochra known to be left on Mardrun and is still adhering to their ways and traditions. After working for a caravan, The Silver Raven Trade Company, he worked on as a guard for the Outpost for a few days. He enjoyed his work there, getting to fight Mordok and even gaining honor by saving the tavern from a Mordok raid. Sadly his contract is now expired and will most likely wander from location to location looking for work that is worthy of his skill, honor, and price. During his travels, he is alway sure to send out a summons for any remaining Íoclaochra to rally to him. With a war on the horizon, the time for honor, money, and glory will soon be at hand once again. For what better way to make a profit than to hire out an entire company of Íoclaochra for a reasonable price, given the circumstances?

Personality:
Out of battle, Volrok is a man of Honor and Duty, who will go above and beyond was he was contracted to do. He can have a crude sense of humor and will occasionally knock back a single mead. However, if his honor is ever insulted or questioned, he will become rather enraged and may attempt a brawl. If the insult is serious enough, he may just outright kill that person.

In battle, he tends hoot and yell at the enemy, taunting them to come into his reach. As a trained mercenary, he is willing to work with groups and will gladly take point so that he may attempt to claim glory when the chance is viable. When fighting an opponent, there may be a chance that all logic will be thrown to the wind as he enters a blood rage.

Relationships:
Best of Friends: Battle, Silver, and Mead.
Actual Friends: None at the time.
Ulven: “Interesting folk. I find honor in battle with them. I especially find joy in battle with them for other reasons. Like the mutual dislike for Mordok, yelling and taunting the enemy, and a love for a good hard fight.”
Syndar: “Have yet to be paid well by one. Have yet to battle with one side-by-side. So I find Syndar uninteresting.”
Humans: “Humans are difficult. I trust Ulven more than fellow humans, simply due to the lack of honor most humans have.”

Rumors:
This lone Íoclaochra is looking for others who are of like mind as he, (other Íoclaochra or those that may desire to become Íoclaochra) that may wish to band together and introduce Mardrun of their skills and services . . . for a hefty price, of course.
Constantly speaks of a god by the name of “Battle-Father.
Will fly into a blood rage while in a fight.
Very possible, he could be a bard on the side, as he is often found singing. When confronted on the subject, he replies “If wanted to be bard, I would not hire out my blade.”

Played by:Jenni Babcock
Name: Martha
Gender: female
Age:17
Race: human
Hair: red
Eyes: hassle green
Occupation: I worked in a bar once
Known Skills:i can Handel a sword pretty well
Birthplace: crows landing
Appearance: short
Notable Traits: well I can cook and clean

Bio: I grew up in crows landing in a small cottage closest to the sea. I have a big family; my parents, three brothers, and two sisters. I’m the oldest so I worked at a bar until the rangers got me to join them. I still remember seeing them for the first time. In the winter we had run so low on supplies and as soon as they arrived all they did was help. They didn’t even ask for anything. They did so much to help us threw that winter joining them was my way of saying thanks. Puckermen has been teaching me how to fight with a sword and its been a struggle but I’m learning.
Its hard leaving my family all the time but I feel like I’m really helping people. We do a lot of scouting mostly. It’s fun, kind of like taking a walk threw the woods for a picnic or something, but its not all fun. On one of my first patrols with them things turned south fast. We went on a stranded patrol with four men. Puckermen was in charge. There some ulven named Nickoli and a tall guy with a shield as big as me named Bob. We where an hours walk from the village when it happened. I heard a sharp sound from the trees and felt so much pain in my chest, it made me fall to the ground. An arrow was sticking out of my chest the pain was so great. I heard the sound of fighting. I could barley keep my eyes open I saw five men pushing out of the woods three had bows. It was then I saw that Nickoli had been hit as well, two arrows stuck out of his back. Bob had taken to fighting the two men that had ran in with swords drawn. Puckermen came to my side and pulled me to my feet he yelled at me “FIGHT!” The rest is a blur. I didn’t do much. Bob killed three of them and Puckermen killed one more but the third archer ran into the woods. We let him get away Puckermen healed Nickoli while we rested then we searched the bodies and burned them. we didn’t find much. Puckermen talked to me when we got back he could tell how helpless I felt. He promised to teach me how to be a better fighter. I hope I can help others as much as they helped me.

player: Tim Miller
Character: Guthrum
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Race: human
Hair: brown
Eyes: Hazel
Occupation: Merchant liason for the Brotherhood of the Long Winter
Known Skills: Fearless warrior of the Brotherhood, wields a great sword
Birthplace: A Small village in Faedrun
Appearance: Bearded, good looks
Notable Traits: nothing of physical note

BIO: Guthrum was born in Faedrun and experienced first hand, the undead apocalypse that swept over the land. He originally was part of a militia set up by his village to help defend it from the undead. When the dead came, they where not prepared. The village’s meager defenses were nowhere near enough to ward off the endless tide of undead. His village was overrun; the militia swept aside, and his friends and family slaughtered. In the chaos of the battle he was forced into the forest. He was forced to flee through the forest for his life. After wandering the woods for days being chased by the undead, he came across Gandr trying to light a fire to keep himself from freezing. Knowing the undead where in close pursuit he convinced Gandr to flee with him. Together they made it to the coast and eventually they where able to secure passage on a colony ship by selling all of Guthrum’s armor. Upon arriving in New Hope, Guthrum tried to find a place for him and Gandr, eventually falling in with the Brotherhood of the Long Winter and swearing himself to Jarl Ivar.
Relationships: Sworn to Jarl Ivar’s service. Close friends with Gandr Wodeen
Rumors: He’ll Cut you