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Played by: Andy Andersen
Name: Vladimir “Saint” Ivanovitch lll
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Race: Human
Hair: Black
Eyes: Green
Occupation: Serving as a battle cleric for the Vandregon army
Known Skills: Divine magic and poison resistance
Birthplace: In the Kingdom of Vandregon on Faedrun
Appearance: Wears the Vandregon colors under a cloak
Relationships: None
Rumors: From his studies, some think he is too close to the Undead

Bio: “I am not out to claim glory, or power… I am Vladimir “Saint” of the Ivanovitch family. My mother and father sent me to the arms of the church during the Undead plague back home at the age of 7. But I did not despair, they were not as loving as they could of been. The church offered me knowledge and a safe haven on the new continent of Mardun. Once the boats started to set sail for this new world, the priests who had taught me for most of my life took me and the rest of us and boarded the first ship to leave. I enjoyed the trip, the crew had such stories to tell, and some had stories of the Undead or being attacked by the Penitent. I was so interested in them and helping those of the ship that they gave me the nickname “Saint”. When we finally arrived on Mardun, things were very much as I thought it would be- a land also in the middle of a war, for at this time the humans and Syndar were in a bitter war with the native Ulven. The Priests whom I had come to call family quickly moved to establish a new homestead in a small village outside of the newly established settlement called, New Hope.

Days here seemed to go by fast, just as the people who rushed back and forth from the front lines and from the shores, and before we knew it, the war had ended. Some say we won, others said the Ulven prevailed. Either way, the war was over and I thought maybe now I can continue my research and studies. I was always one to take things apart and figure out how it worked and the one thing I longed to study was not as available here. I wished to study the Undead… I had learned all I could from the books in the library and I wanted more than anything to study them. Me being just a boy of fourteen, I wanted to do this more than anything and I pandered to the others. I even went as far as talking to the head priest, Calder. Calder was as religious as he was ruthless; he had fought on the front lines of the Aldorians and the Vandregon. He has seen the Undead scourge for himself, this made him my favorite place to go to answers. But unfortunately he did not give out information on his battle experiences easily. So when I came to him telling him I wanted to study the Undead, he was furious. He said the Undead are not to be studied, rather they needed to be destroyed by the Light. I was a man of the cloth as much as the rest, but I was also a man of the sciences, so anyone can imagine the conflict that this caused me inside.

Even though Calder would not allow me to study the Undead, I still found ways to keep myself entertained. A stack of books arrived all on the battle tactics of the armies of the Old and New. One book was on the Aldorian army, several on the Vandregon army and one or two that really interested me were on not only the tactics of the Ulven and each of the clans individual tendencies and specialties in battle- but one was titles “Mordok Hunting” It talked so low of the Mordok it made perfect sense that more people think of them as animals. I took all the tactics and worked to apply it to my combat strategies. My training took me years to perfect and by the time I was eighteen, I felt ready to set out and join the world. I hade planned on joining new Vandregon in two months. Then one day a group came to our church in search for a blessing on a journey they were embarking on. Balder was the first to greet them as they came up the steps. I was not concerned about what they needed; I was preoccupied with my training and meditation. Later that night Calder asked to see me, he had never asked to see me before- but I went anyways. Calder lived in a secluded part of the homestead with his wife whom I rarely saw and his son who had a grudge with me when one day his father yelled at him for not being as committed to his studies as I was. I had no problems finding Calder; he was standing in the doorway of his study. In a corner I noticed a chest, I had never seen it before. Calder turned to face me and saw that I had noticed it.
“I see you noticed the new chest, those people who were earlier left it in our care.” “Why? We have no need for it. And who is the lock supposed to keep out?”
Calder looks to me with a blank stare “Those people left it in our care….it is imperative it stays locked away from those who are not worthy.”
“So what did you want to see me about?”
“I called you here because I know you are planning on joining the Vandregon army. I know you were planning on leaving us here without any explanation.” I almost jumped when he said that but I let him continue. “”However thought I would not be mad at you for this…I too served for the Vandregon… They are an honorable group and they would be lucky to have you. But first you need to prove that you can fight. This brings me to why I called you in here. Those people need a cleric to go with them and a blessing for their trip, I told them I would send my best and brightest cleric, and that’s you. Now you’re not to let them stray away from this path.”
He handed me a map of Mardrun. “Here is Onsallas outpost. I have heard from a reliable contact that two Vandregon warriors from the militia known as the Myrmiden will be there one day earlier than the Vandregons current leader, William. Maybe there you will be able to join them. Now get moving, you leave tonight and should arrive to the outpost in three days time.”

I couldn’t have been more excited about the pleasant turn of events.
Later that night I met up with the group I will be traveling with. There were a total of fifteen of us. This chest must be very important if they managed to gather so many people. The journey took all of two days to go to hell. On the night of the second day, we were all woken up in the late night by a man on watch called Brueter. Brueter had with him a traveling companion named Rachel. I had no doubt that the two were engaged in relations with each other. He was screaming “He’s found us Rachel, we must get the chest and make hast to the outpost, they can protect us there!!” I had no idea who HE was, so I pondered who could have these men and woman who had seen death and killed in such disarray. Then I felt as if something was there, and odd feeling crept into my body as I noticed that another woman was with us. Her shadow was taller and leaner like a man and held a spear… My brain moved too fast for my body to react, her chest erupted with crimson red blood covering the spear tip as it slid back through her body and a man appeared behind her.
But he was not really a man, his face had almost no color, or flesh on it. His eye sockets were void of any eyes, just black holes. This was an Undead… I became excited- here it was, standing just as I had thought it would, void of any emotion. But I had to wait till it was dead for me to study it, I thought to myself. My mind was suddenly taken by fear as it lunged towards me, spear in hand, ready to thrust its sharp head into mine. I side stepped the thrust, but not before realizing that someone was standing behind me and was not in the cross fire and before either of us came to our sensed it was too late and the spear entered his throat and exited out the back of his neck. When it retracted, it pulled out strands of veins and muscle. Soon the others were aware of what was going on, a panic quickly set in. Each man and woman was working to get away at any cost, but this foolish effort ended up killing more and more of them. Some were set on fire, stumbling into the still burning fires. Other ran into each others drawn weapons. This mass hysteria was soon calmed and controlled by an ex- Vandregon soldier. I had learned of him when I met him, he was an older man in his late thirties called Axas. He was dishonorably discharged due to a crippling injury he sustained during a drunken brawl he started.

None the less, he started barking orders and soon rallied us into a line. Only ten of us were left after the beginning panic. One man moved to lunge his great sword in the Undead’s stomach but the Undead was unfazed by this and moved forward onto the blade until he was face to face with the man who stood petrified. Soon the Undead made it’s move and it thrusted it’s hand around the mans face and began to squeeze. Slowly and painfully, the man’s head started to crack and bleed. His eye were being gouged out and squeezed, the blood curdling screams could be a nightmare in and of itself, but it wasn’t long before the Undead had squeezed the life out of his victim and let his limp body fall into the dirt. But Axas stood tall, weapon drawn before he called for them to rush the Undead. The Undead had thrusted his sword into another person, but this time he let it go, reached for the handle of the great sword in his stomach and pulled it out. The battle began…

Axas did his best, but no one in our little group had the minerals to stand up to this seemingly invincible enemy. I was trying to convince Axas to hand me his sword so that I could bless it but before I could get a chance the Undead made a strong powerful swing for Axas and knocked him back. The Undead were swinging slowly but it would connect on almost every swing and these swings were powerful, at one point he swung hard for Axas and it connected with his big tower shield and it cracked and splintered right up the middle. One by one they started to fall like flies. Axas finally gave up his sword so that I could bless it, I ran for cover in the tall grass that surrounded us. But as I started the ritual, I noticed that the undead had not been so interested in me, until now… I heard its heavy footsteps behind me as I turned around to catch him, but instead I found a knife in my side. I blacked almost out instantly from the pain. When I regained consciousness, I looked around to see if there were any survivors, I only found the reanimated corpses of the others. I had to get away or else I would be next. I looked over and I could see the undead has it’s hand on Bruters head and all of a sudden his dead body began seizing and jerking for two minutes till the Undead staggered away almost in pain. I thought to myself this is how an undead is made…I had learned about the dark energy that coursed through an undead but I never had seen it in play. This undead was able to make its dark energy into a dead body. I saw the undead move to me as he got closer and closer, I knew I would have to endure more pain than I ever sustained, if I was to survive. As the undead reached me I reached up and grabbed the undead’s arm and bought it close to me. I took the dagger out of my side and trusted it into his chest. I then kicked him away. I ran as fast as I could into the dirge swamp… I knew I could not go back so I decided I would hide out in this swamp till I could regain my facilities. I foraged off the land and meditated and thought long and hard on the battle… Then one day, after so long by myself, I met someone…

Played by: Aaron Olson;

Name: Mordecai von Hertz

Gender: Male

Age: 21 years old

Race: Human

Hair: Dark brown/Black

Eyes: Hazel

Occupation: Noble warrior (fighter)

Known Skills (35 exp. Currently): Shield fighting, Toughness, Toughness level 2, Toughness level 3, Dual Wielding

Birthplace: Von Hertz estate

Appearance: Tall, skinny

Notable Traits: Semi-blind, very respectful, kind
Relationships: None

Rumors: None (so far)

Bio: Mordecai von Hertz, the only child of Margaret and Grigori von Hertz, was born on the continent of Faedrun on his family’s estate. It was soon discovered after Mordecai’s birth that he was born with a vision defect that made him half-blind. Regardless of Mordecai’s defect, his parents thought it necessary to train him how to fight and defend himself if he should ever find himself in trouble. So at the ripe young age of 5, the von Hertz’s paid tutors a considerable sum of coin to try and train Mordecai. But it appeared that their attempts would be in vain as Mordecai struggled time and time again to learn to fight with no success. It saddened the von Hertz’s greatly to see their young boy try so hard only to meet with no success. This did not hinder the von Hertz’s from making sure that Mordecai was properly educated though. They taught him politics, economy, battle tactics, and more. It seemed that Mordecai was living the dream life of luxury and safety inside his family’s estate.

But that all changed on Mordecai’s 11th birthday. Early in the morning hours of the day, an Undead horde launched an attack on the von Hertz estate. The Undead were merciless as they slaughtered every servant and guard in their way. It seemed like nothing would be able to stop the devastation that was being wreaked upon Mordecai’s home. In an effort to protect his beloved family, Grigori grabbed the family’s ancestoral sword and shield and went out to meet the vile scum that was the Undead. It was the last time Mordecai would ever see his father alive again. Finally realizing that the estate was soon to be totally lost, Margaret ordered Mordecai escorted away from the estate with two guards through a secret underground tunnel leading out the back of the doomed home while she would remain behind to find her husband. The guards and Mordecai pleaded Margaret to go with them and after a few minutes, convinced her to abandon the house. But fate was not done being cruel to Mordecai on this day. As they finally reached the entrance of the tunnel, a lone Undead had broken off from its pack and impaled Margaret straight through her chest. Mordecai watched as two more Undead appeared and began to mutilate his mother’s body right before his eyes. Even to this day, he can remember the sheer agony in his mother’s voice as her final breathes of air left her body. Finally snapping back into reality, Mordecai ran down the tunnel as the two guards who were accompanying him stayed behind to buy him time to escape. As Mordecai reached the end of the tunnel, he turned to see his once glorious home engulfed in flames. Not knowing what to do next, Mordecai turned around and started to walk away from everything he held close and dear to his heart. After walking for a couple hours, Mordecai stumbled across a boat that was taking people to new lands. Upon seeing this, Mordecai ran to the boat to see if someone would answer his call for help. As he neared the boat, Mordecai breathed a sigh of relief for the first time that day as there on the boat was the ship’s captain and a small amount of people preparing to set sail for Mardrun. They quickly invited Mordecai onboard and offered the battered young boy some food. He quickly devoured it and then proceeded to tell them of everything that had happened that morning leading up to his arrival at the boat. Taking pity on the young lad, the captain decided to let Mordecai stay the night with them.

The very next day, the captain and Mordecai set back out towards the von Hertz estate to see if there were any survivors and see what became of Mordecai’s father. As they approached the smoldering estate, they advanced with extreme caution for fear of any Undead that may still be lingering nearby. After finally feeling that there were no Undead still remaining around, they began to look for any signs that may help them ascertain the fate of Grigori. After an hour of digging through the rubble and ashes, they found what they were looking for. It was the charred corpse of Grigori as it was made apparent by the ancestral sword and shield of the family that were still clasped in his hands. Apparently, as Grigori went out to protect his family, a beam of the house weakened by the fires fell onto him and crushed him where he stood. Mordecai’s worst fear had finally come to pass: his entire family was dead and gone.

There was now nothing left for Mordecai here except memories that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Before leaving though, Mordecai decided to take the family’s ancestral sword and shield from his father’s corpse. As he picked up the sword and shield, Mordecai realized that the fire had charred the blade and shield pure black. Mordecai decided at that moment that he would use his family’s ancestral weapons to fight and protect all the good in the world from evil so that no one else would experience the pain he had felt. Mordecai gave his last respects to his family and vowed to one day restore the house of von Hertz back to its former glory. Upon returning to the boat, the captain feeling sympathy for the now orphaned boy decided to take Mordecai with them to Mardrun. After arriving in the new lands of Mardrun, Mordecai spent the next 3 years of his life learning the virtues of a noble gentleman like honor, respect, and how to judge what is good and righteous that aught be protected from the evil injustice that aught be destroyed. Mordecai also recalled the lessons of his fighting tutors had taught him and trained vigorously night and day to master what he could not 6 years ago. After spending the 3 years with the captain aboard his ship, he finally decided it was time to set out and try to keep the oaths that he had made years ago on the graves of his family. Before Mordecai left the boat, the captain gave Mordecai a gift to help him on his noble trek and give him luck as it had done for the captain: the captain’s swords.

Mordecai spent the next 7 years wandering the country side fighting any evil that he came across, living off what small amount of money he had received from the captain and dead corpses he looted. In these 7 years of traveling that he had done, Mordecai heard rumors of an army that helped the good people of Mardrun and killed the wicked. This army went by the name of Vandregon. Mordecai had heard that they supposedly had a headquarters in the colony of New Hope and was led by a man named William. Deciding to see for himself if the Vandregon army did exist, Mordecai set out for New Hope in the hopes of finding William. He had decided that if the rumors were true, he must join this righteous army and aid them however he could. And in the process, maybe, just maybe, Mordecai could become just that much closer to restoring his family name and home. But that remains to be seen…

Played by: Tim Cochrane
Name: Aram as-Khani im-Brana-Weithe ór-Nalta Isaldi-nor-Eftim (short form of full name)
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Race: Human
Hair: Blond
Eyes: Green
Occupation: Tea house proprietor
Birthplace: Beneath the stars in the deserts of the North
Appearance: A small goatee, thin lenses for his eyes, and sets of bells braided into his hair. His turban and robes are accented with blue.
Bio: Aram is a member of the Kae’Rim people, a small group of scattered tribes located in the May’Kar Dominion. Despite living in the Dominion, they considered themselves separate from the ruling powers, content to wander the deserts according to the precepts of their religion. Aram, along with his Mhitar, Orim, left the Old World at the urging of his tribe. After sailing to the New World, Aram spent some time traveling the continent before arriving at the New Hope colony, learning of the various medicines and restoratives used by the Ulven people, displaying a great interest in their culture and legends.

As with all traditional Kae’Rim, Aram’s full name is quite long and complex, used only in formal introductions and detailing his deeds, role in life, and history. The shortened full version can be broken down into several parts: “as-Khani” is the form used to describe a religious scholar and is loosely translated as “priest” into the Common tongue. “im-Brana-Weithe” indicates that he takes the role of Fire and Earth in most of the rituals performed by a Kae’Rim cleric. “ór-Nalta” tells of the tribe he originally came from, with the “ór-” prefix indicating that he is in good standing with his tribe but is currently separated from them and likely to start a new group. “Isaldi-nor-Eftim” is his familial name, combined with that of Orim’s, indicating that he is bonded with her and that they are no longer of their individual families.

Privately, Aram wishes to learn more about Ulven cultural and religious customs, as he has been struggling to interpret several passages from the Third Book of the Kae’Rim, which indicates another related god to the West. In most religious artwork of the Kae’Rim and in one of their oldest legends, the Four Gods are depicted as loyal hounds, and so he has begun to suspect that the Great Wolf of the Ulven people may be the one who was spoken of in that prophecy.

Aram tries to be friendly and open, offering drinks to any who walk near his traveling tea house, the Desert Hound. While he carries a sword, he is far from proficient in its use, owning it solely as a deterrent from random brigands. It has proven somewhat effective so far, but he has yet to stray from larger groups of other humans.

Relationships: Mhitar (Word, suggesting a pair devoted to the full worship of the Four Gods) to Orim
Rumors: Aram is currently undergoing a spiritual crisis due to his injury of a living creature (in this case, a Mordok). He has promised Rhodi that he will distill a powerful poison if the required materials can be delivered to him. He may provide aid free of charge to anyone who brings proof that they are fighting against the undead. He will pay for any information on the Mordok and their origins, as he is currently writing what he hopes to be an addition to the Kae’Rim religion on the nature of these creatures.
“oh yes the human from the sea of sand, he’s one ofurge humans I like, the tea is good too.” -Stanrick longfang

Played by: Allan Derge
Name: Fredrick Ceridel
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Race: Human
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Green
Character Website:
Occupation: Vandregon Soldier
Known Skills:
Birthplace: Human settlement in the old world
Appearance: Tall and big, with a sinical stature to him.
Notable Traits: Large stature.
Bio:
“I was born of a wealthy healer family in the faedrun colony, me and my twin brother Hector both strive for the path of a vandregon warrior. As a child all i could remember of my family was that my father was a Gambler, with a debt larg enough that he was hung from his skin as payment and an example. ever since then, i wanted to be a knight to enforce justice. Once me and my brother came of age we began our travels together to find the nearest vandergon outpost. once we left travels me and hector had a difference of opinion. From a young age i had a deep hatred for the penitent and their undead masters that have tainted our home, so when I came across a group of penitent lead by and undead, I demanded we attack them, hector refused for he believed in the justification of the penitent and thought to join them. this was a betrayal to our family. So I slaughtered Hector for his betrayal. Once he was dealt with i pursued the Penitent, I attempted to tracked them for days till i had lost the trail. but my journey had taken me to a ship port, were I saw men wearing vandergon colors and tabards boarding a ship, filled with joy on finding them i followed them aboard the ship. However once i was aboard, i was taken by surprise, the men i thought were vandergon were actually a group of bandits who were headed for the new world of
Mardrun, they took Me as a prisoner to be dealt with once they arrived in mardrun. Two days past and me and my captors had finally arrived in the new world, but it was not a time of celebration i still had the issue of gaining my freedom, which actually wasn’t that hard. the harbor for which we were docking was in the middle of a fight with some gruesome looking monsters the locals later refereed to as mordok. My captors were to busy dealing with them that i had enough time to break free and make my escape, but some of the bandits were not all focused on these beasts, so i still had to fight my way out. Luckily for me they fought like 3 year old children so i didn’t have to exert to much strength and energy on them, and i made it out pretty easily, once i was free i began hearing that a high ranking Vandregon Officer was here in the new world so i was now out to find him. I walked for what seemed like weeks of travel till i came a crossed the wayward inn, were i found the leader of the vandregon in the new world, along with being recruited to the vandregon faction i meet a very unusual Ulven by the name of Venator Oathkeeper i had been only around him for no more than a minute and i get this odd feeling around him. as if he may stab me at any moment, but William assured me that he sometimes has that effect on many people, and that he wouldn’t kill me, i hope he’s right. I can see a dark look in his wolf eyes that is characteristic of a person with very dark intentions, uncontrollable rage, and anger toward everyone,or maybe just one person?. But if I’m right i hope that he doesn’t try and attack us.
Relationships:
Rumors:

Played by: Brett Kammerer (bhkammerer@gmail.com)
Name: Tofalus Falconhand
Gender: Male
Age:
Race: Human
Hair: brown
Eyes: blue
Character Website: If applicable!
Occupation: Former thief from the Midnight Sun Thives’ Guild
Known Skills: Dual wield, Archery/thrown weapons, Traps/Devices, Toughness, First-Aid
Birthplace: Aldoria
Appearance: What do you look like?
Notable Traits:
Bio:

Like any story worth telling, Tofalus’ is about a woman. Tofalus Falconhand was the lover of the “Queen of Thieves” Emalia of Aldoria. For several years he lived a life of luxury and had his choice of choice jobs and loot, but as is to be expected, there were those that were jealous of him and plotted to remove him from his position as their queen’s favorite. Most notable among them was Latissimus. Latissimus had been quietly and carefully selecting a band of followers to dispose of Tofalus for quite some time and when the time was right he struck. He broke into Emalia’s private vault and stole one of her prized jewels and framed Tofalus for the job. Though Emailia very much doubted that her lover would ever do such a thing she had an image to keep. Though such a crime would normally call for a very long and VERY painful death, she could not stand to see her beloved leave this world in such a way, so instead she had him banished from the land. During their tearful goodbye she told him he could never return to Aldoria, and if the fates allowed it, she would one day find him and they could be together again. With one last kiss she sent him off to a safe house to wait for nightfall so he could board a ship in secret that was bound for Mardrun.

Life, with the exception of the past few years, was never easy for Tofalus. This night was not going to be any different. Tofalus was awakened by the frantic pounding on the door by one of Emalia’s most faithful servants, “Guy.” Guy explained that he must leave now. Latissimus had found out where Emalia was hiding him and was on his way over to kill him, a warning which was punctuated by an arrowhead that suddenly appeared poking out of his chest. After fierce fight with Latissimus and three of his men, Tofalus was able to escape with only the clothes on his back and his weapons. Making it to the docks at the last minute he hurried on to the awaiting boat heading to what he hoped would be a safer new life. But wait, some of the boat’s crew look awfully familiar…

Relationships: Friends with: Fortinbras, Aradael, Bite
What relationships do you have other PCs and NPCs?
Rumors: If they gossip about you, what do they say?

Lives in: Crow’s Landing

Played by: Matt Miller
Name: Fortinbras
Gender: Male
Age: 31
Race: Human
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Grey

Known Skills: Leather working (Armor Repair), Dual Wield, Disarm Traps
Birthplace: Country Antrim, in the Kingdom of Aldoria

Bio:
Fortinbras was born the 4th son of a minor Baronet in County Antrim. From a young age, he excelled at getting into trouble. At the age of 16, after a night of gambling and drinking at a local watering hole led to him insulting a knight, he decided it would be best to leave town for a while (to avoid the coming duel). As there are few opportunities for the youngest child of poor gentry, and he was dreadfully ill-suited to becoming a priest, he opted to join the army of Aldoria, and found that he was well suited to the life of a soldier, consisting as it did of long stretches of boredom (or gambling and drinking) punctuated by excitement of battle.
It was during his 3rd year in the army that Fortinbras met Aradael, who he quickly came to consider a commander worth working with, and eventually a good friend. When Aradael eventually left the service to settle down with his new wife, Amalthia, Fortinbras chose to remain in the army, not really having anywhere else to go. When the undead plague began spilling over Aldoria’s borders in earnest, Fortinbras’ unit was one of the ones that fought the ill-funded and under-manned delaying action. After watching the men in his unit slowly ground down by the attacks from the undead, and seeing that the collapse of the Aldorian army was now simply a matter of time, Fortinbras chose to abandon his post to warn his friend, fleeing with Aradael and his wife and daughter to Clearport, and then taking ship to Mardrun.
Blown of course by storms, the ship Gentleman Caller did not make its way to the ports of New Hope with the other refugees, but instead shipwrecked in an isolated area. There they founded the village of Crow’s Landing, and began to build a new life for themselves.
At first Fortinbras was worried that he would not be of much help in the new village, but he discovered that years of field repairs on armor had left him with a talent for repairing tack and gear, and other leatherworking. His skills as a soldier also came in useful when the folk of Crow’s Landing first met the Mordok. He worked with Aradael to establish the militia of Crow’s Landing, and, when it was determined that the village needed to seek out additional aid, left with him to find other settlements.

Relationships: Friend of Aradael, Amalthia, and Bite. Lives in Crow’s Landing, and is a founding member of it’s militia, the Crowsguard.

Played by: Caleb T
Name: Rorzak
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Known Skills: Dual Wielding
Appearance:
Notable Traits: –
Bio:
Rumors: Unknown

Play
ed by: Andrew Lepperd
Name: Aradael (Formerly Aradel d’Bellecourt)
Gender: Male
Age: 36
Race: Human
Hair: Dark Brown
Eyes: Dark Brown
Occupation: Farmer/Herder/Crowsguard Captain
Known Skills: Armor Proficiency, Shield Proficiency, Dual Wield, Toughness (x1), Stalwart, Basic First Aid
Birthplace: Castle Bellecourt, in the Kingdom of Aldoria

If you’ve ever served under arms, you’ve probably heard the same litany I did about the sword becoming an extension of yourself. I cannot say I ever reached a point where I felt like it did. That’s not to say I wasn’t competent with the tool, but I never romanticized its terrible work.

As a young man, I lead others into battle in the army of Aldoria. It was, I had been raised to believe, my hereditary duty. A lordling of middling status, the name I had inherited gave me the right to command men, and the obligation to do so to whatever end the king bade me. Seldom did I find these ends to be the righteous or chivalrous ones of bard’s tales or the bleached white aggrandizement of the histories commissioned by the noble families.

Most of those I lead in my youth were my age, many of the trusted sergeants double that, and some of the greenest recruits boys of scarcely more than a dozen summers. The armies we faced were much the same, such that one could scarcely tell us apart if not for the tabards and banners. Though in time my rank entitled me to give orders from a hilltop vantage, it was seldom my wont. I placed myself at the front of my companies, where I could better see the bewildered, terrified disbelief of boys dying at my hand, and at my side. It was not bravado that kept me at the vanguard, but a desire to protect my own. New recruits were said to have taunted my valor at the sight of my towering shield, with veterans promptly cuffing them for insolence and relating the time I’d extended my aegis to them or a close comrade. With each foe I struck down, more and more I started to question the difference between the luckless conscript at my side and the one at the edge of my blade, and why I should care only to preserve the life of the one and not the other.

There was a time I believed at least half-heartedly in what the lords and marshals told us we were fighting for. Defending the honor of Aldoria’s daughters, protecting hearth and home, avenging terrible wrongs done by dastardly foreigners. I cannot count the number of fields my company of men transformed to abattoirs haunted by the moans of the dying, the call of the carrion birds, and the wailing of camp-following wives turning over a prone form and learning they were newly widowed. Never did it seem that we created enough of these stinking vermilion tableaus to finally win the peace, security and honor we were ostensibly fighting for.

Perhaps most influential in my growing perspective was a chance meeting with a member of the Crescent Order. Our regiment had managed to persuade the abbess to detach some of these crusaders of Lunara to serve alongside our forces and render aid to the wounded. Amalthia was her name, and she was a hazel-eyed beauty, and a syndar. I had thought her unapproachable, both for her fey ancestry and whatever vows bound her as a woman of the cloth. My good friend and confidant Fortinbras, our quartermaster and unnoficial unit mummer, made jest of my reluctance. He goaded me to approach her, but she alone among women seemed to turn me into a bashful schoolboy.

Fate, or chance, as you would have it, gave me the opportunity to try my charms on her when I was convalescing from a battle wound. She was not near so unapproachable as I thought, nor were her vows as dire as I feared. Were I a poet, I could relate to you the dizzying joy of our romance, but I am a soldier, and have only a soldier’s unsubtle and unimaginative tongue.

It was not long before I proposed, and to my surprise and joy met with her assent. Amalthia’s order and her calling hold that Lunara’s path is not a narrow one, and her Goddess could be served as well by a wife (and, I would find in time, a mother) as by a celibate warrior-priestess.

I could no longer abide my bloody duties, and resigned my commission. My sword hung over the mantle. And, as I said, I did not feel as if I lost a part of myself. Though my hands still remembered the blade. When I tilled the soil, when I held my child, still the grim business of soldiering could never be completely out of mind. Though, with the seas of blood spilled at my hand and by my order, perhaps not an undeserved one. It cost me my family name, the title and lands due me as eldest son of a knight-noble, and my inheritance. I could not care less. My father, a lifelong and loyal officer, called it cowardice. He expected me to follow in his bloodsoaked footsteps. To me, cowardice would have been to continue marching into needless slaughter under that hateful banner because of the weight of obligation.

The decade between my resignation and recent calamities was blissfully uneventful; yet full of the simple bounties of life that soldiering keeps a sword’s length away. The worst of my worries was an early frost or an outbreak of flystrike in the herd, nothing next to the humble joys of a sunrise hand in hand with my beloved over the fields, or a quiet night by the hearth with a book.

The greatest of these simple yet transcendent joys occurred some six seasons ago. According to Amalthia, she has my ears. Paige’s birth seemed to be an affirmation of the humble, peaceful life of farming and ranching I’d chosen.

Or it would have been, had the dead finally spilled over our borders. My regiment was stationed far from the borders, and as I came to learn, much effort was taken to suppress the true magnitude of the danger at our doorstep to those of us still fighting rebellious barons and peasant uprisings. We had all heard the stories, but most dismissed them as the offspring of a coupling of rumor and exaggeration. Though the plague had burned for nearly two generations, it was difficult to imagine the true enormity of the threat from second and third hand tales.

Fortinbras arrived to warn us with the grim, first-hand truth. He arrived in time, but only just. Without his alert, not to mention his sharing in the despair and danger of our flight, my family would almost certainly have perished, or worse, fallen to the curse of waking death.

Neither I nor Amaltia had beaten our swords into plowshares; keeping arms and armor was a prudent thing for an isolated farmer. At first I had intended to defend what was mine, but the enormity of the legions of dead and crazed made quick folly of the idea.

We fled. Even these seasons later, it haunts me to write much of our time as refugees. Suffice to say what I did to protect my family troubles me more than the oceans of blood spilled under battle standards in my youth. Those I came to trust in our flight are now my closest friends, family by atrocity shared. Those that survived, at any rate.

Those of our party who made it to Clearport faced a press of humanity that reminded me of nothing so much as an overfull pen of hogs ready for slaughter. The zealots and the hungry dead were not far behind, and the desperation to make it to the remaining ships had engendered a state of crazed inhumanity that I hope never to see again. When we had shield-bashed and shouldered our way through the sea of refugees to the boarding planks of the Gentleman Caller narrowly making its departure, I looked back at the desperate souls leaping and trying to swim after. I had done what I could for my people, and in the most elemental sense, it was them or us. This is what I told myself, and is it not the truth?

Our fortune did not much improve during the voyage, cramped together and living on starvation rations. Nor did it improve when we reached land. On the last leg of our voyage, colossal storms wrenched us far off course, and eventually dashed the ship against the rocks far from our intended port, killing much of the crew and passengers, but sparing my family and many of those who had fled with me.

As luck would have it, we found ourselves shipwrecked in a fertile delta valley more than suitable for farming and ranching, something I had come to know well. We have made a new home of it, working in common and sharing in the defense from the predacious denizens of this new land. We call this steading of some dozen families “Crow’s Landing,” as there were no gulls to be seen, but dozens of the dark avians came to feast on those who did not survive the wreck. The washed up faster than they could be buried. Though the first seasons were hard, we have made this place a new home.

And when I till the land, hold Amalthia, and write on the slate to teach young Paige words, sums, and the like, still my hands remember the sword, and I have learned to be grateful. It is still a hateful tool, but it is a necessary one. Finally the battles I fight really are for the essential ideals of dignity and survival, and not the pretense of these things wrapped around the petty, greedy struggles of lords and their nations. From the motley militia of Crow’s Landing, I will never resign. Was it the only way to secure the safety of those closest to me, I would march against the world until no others remained. My family again has a home, and I will let nothing again threaten them. If in time I can no longer enjoy the simple pleasures for which I first put down the sword, if that ugly tool does finally become a part of me as drillmasters assured me it must long ago, so be it. If it is us or them, I choose us.

TL;DR VERSION:
Aradael is a veteran officer of Aldoria who resigned his commission after becoming cynical and dissilusioned about the military. He married Amalthia, a battle cleric of Lunara, and they have a daughter, Paige. He lived for around ten years as a farmer and rancher before the undead destroyed his farm forced him to flee for Mardrun, where he and a circle of trusted comrades shipwrecked far from the other New Hope settlements and founded Crow’s Landing. Though the small freehold community has no official leader, he is often looked to in this capacity, particularly in matters of defense.

Of late, he has come to see that Mordok raids are a greater threat than his tiny militia can handle, and is travelling to a nearby outpost in order to broker some manner of mutual defense agreement with surrounding communities and Ulven tribes.

Played by: Samantha Vold
Name: Lexia
Age: 17
Occupation: Ranger
Relationships: Wilken- little brother. Rauran- friend

My name is Lexia. I have a younger brother whom I recently met up with after 5 years of being apart. His name is Wilken. When I was 12 (Wilken was 11), our parents had begun arguing on and off for several months and mom just couldn’t take it anymore. So, she eventually left. She took me with her, leaving Wilken and dad behind.
After we left, we wandered into a little village about 20 miles south of where we previously had lived. There, I took the opportunity to ask mom where we were going. The only response she gave me was “Far away, honey.” In reality, we never did stray that far from home. I think the farthest we ended up was 30 miles south of that first little village. We only went a total of 50 miles south, all said and done. I think she secretly missed dad, although she would never admit it to me.
But, we made home in one of the rooms of the tavern after mom befriended the hostess there. Rent was cheap, and life was a bit hard. We never really had a lot of money, so mom did a lot of hunting to feed us. When I was old enough, I began working in the tavern as a server and helped the guests that came. All the money I made went directly to our rent though. I never saw any of it myself. But, it made mom happy, so I guess I was happy.
During my free time, mom would teach me and she occasionally took me out hunting with her. I learned archery during those trips and even killed a few meals myself. But, one day, our hunting trip went wrong. We were deep in the forest tracking a deer that had previously wandered through. We stopped to examine some tracks when I heard a rustling in the bushes. I asked mom what it was and she replied saying it was just another animal passing through. We held still for a few moments to see if we could hear anything more or if the animal would come out. When nothing happened, we started moving again. That was when it happened. We were ambushed by four mordok. The skirmish was a bit of a blur to me. Mom told me to climb the nearest tree that I could find and get up high while she fought them off. She took one out with her bow and decapitated another with her sword. I sniped one from my position in the tree, but there was still one left. Mom had been wounded while she was fighting and was running out of energy to keep it up. The last mordok grappled her to the ground and began to tear her apart. I screamed for her and shot an arrow through the mordok’s arm. That didn’t do much, simply slowed him down a bit. I jumped from my spot in the tree and stuck another arrow in his arm. That time I got his attention. He left my mom lying on the ground and turned on me. When he charged, I took aim and stuck my last arrow right through his chest. He ran another few feet towards me and then dropped. I stayed where I was for a few tense moments, just to be sure, then sprinted to my mom’s side. She was still breathing when I reached her, but was losing a lot of blood from a large wound in her side. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and said, “There’s nothing you can do to help me, dear. But please, try to find your father and brother. Apologize to your father and tell him I’ve still loved him over these years. And take care of your brother. He needs you now.” I promised her I would follow through with her request and stayed by her side while she took her last breath. When she had gone, I closed her eyes and ran into town as fast as I could. The woman who ran the tavern gathered a group of men to help me carry my mother back to town. The next day we had a small funeral for her and buried her in the town’s graveyard along with her bow and the few arrows we could find. I kept her sword for myself and vowed to avenge her death one day and to help protect others from the mordok as best I could so no else had to go through what I had.
A few weeks later I met Rauran. He had come into the tavern, sat in a corner and challenged anyone that would play to a game. Even with his seemingly arrogant attitude, he kept losing. One gentleman stayed and played several rounds with Rauran and kept winning. Eventually, Rauran got so far into debt that he couldn’t pay up anymore. And there was no hope of doing so soon. A fight then broke out. Several people helped me break the fight up and I threw both Rauran and the other gentleman out.
A few days later, Rauran returned, sneaking back into the tavern. I spotted him sulking in the same corner he had been in the night before, but this time he had no game going. As courtesy dictates, I went over and asked him if I could get him anything. He told me he didn’t have any money to pay me with. But, he looked hungry to me. I gave him a bowl of stew and walked away. When I returned, the bowl was empty and he looked slightly guilty. I picked up the bowl and heard a muttered “Thank you” as I walked away. When I reached the bar and turned around, he had gone.
Later that week, I ran a few errands for the tavern hostess. When I left the market, I found Rauran huddled in an alley-way. I walked over to him and told him I’d pay him a few pieces of silver to carry my bags for me. He accepted and helped me back to the tavern. Upon returning, I offered him another bowl of stew and before I got an answer, went to grab a bowl. We sat down a table and I learned his story.
He had been an orphan for about two years and had a bad streak of gambling and fighting. He made his way from town to town, village to village, in hopes of finding some new people to gamble with and hope no one knew of the debts he had built up over the time he spent in each town. He explained that gambling was the only way he could earn any money for himself. (Although he wasn’t very good at it and kept losing more than he earned.) And then he ended up in this tavern several days ago. Plans were kind of in the works for him to leave town and head out to another within the next day or so. Hearing his story, I took pity on him and left to talk to the hostess. She offered him a job working in the tavern and a room as well. The work would pay off the rent and he would receive one free meal a day. That was enough to keep him in town for a while longer.
Several months passed. Rauran stayed in the village and continued working at the tavern. His gambling streak had lessened dramatically, although he still played a few games every now-and-then. All was going well as we became good friends and my sorrow over my mother’s death lessened. Travelers came in and out and many stories passed through as well. Rumors of mordok on the move would send search parties out into the forest and they’d return sometimes with a trophy, and other times not. Several mordok head were displayed around the tavern as the one who killed it would triumphantly tell his story to all who would listen.
One day, a lone and young traveler came into the tavern. When he pulled the hood of his cloak down, I recognized him instantly. It may have been five years since I had seen him, but it certainly was him. My little brother, Wilken, had somehow made his way to the tiny village. I dropped the dishes I was carrying in disbelief and ran to him, hugging him and rambling about how much I missed him. I’m pretty sure tears sprang into my eyes, I was that excited and overjoyed to see him. But…where was father? Why was he alone?
I ran to the back and grabbed little brother a bowl of stew, sat him down and made him tell me everything that had happened over the five years since I had seen him. Father had taught little brother everything he knew. How to fight, gamble a bit, hunt, read, etc. They spent many days out in the forest tracking animals and training. One day though, that little escapade turned disastrous.
A few weeks ago, they had been out in a meadow and father was teaching little brother some new sword-fighting techniques. But, they were ambushed by some mordok that had been attracted to the sounds of a small skirmish. Father and Wilken fought them off as best they could, but father ended up mortally wounded. Wilken was able to take down the last mordok that father had wounded and after that ran to tend to his wounds. He was able to get father back to the cabin in which they had been living and did his best to help father heal. But, the wound became infected and father fell deathly ill. After several days of fighting a horrendous fever, father passed away, leaving little brother on his own. He buried father near the cabin, took up his sword, and headed out, looking for any and all mordok he could find in his scheme of revenge.
Little brother spent quite a while wandering from little village to little village. He first headed east of where the cabin was and stayed a few nights in a tavern there. Eventually, he made a giant loop and ended up in the village where I was. After his story, I filled him in on what had happened with mother and me. I told him we were now officially orphans, knowing that father was dead. And I offered to let him stay with me then, at least until he was old enough to set out on his own completely. But, he argued. He had heard rumors of a caravan that was headed to Daven’s Reach that had gone missing. He wanted to check it out, so that’s where he was headed. He was just passing through this little village on his way.
Not wanting to let him go right away, I made him stay a week with me and fill me in some on this rumor and everything else that had been going on. He met Rauran and they seemed to get along well, a friendship had begun to form. But, eventually, I had to let him go. He set out for Daven’s Reach, but I had to stay behind. So, I let him leave with a promise that he’d do his best to stay safe. And in return, I gave him a promise that I’d join him in Daven’s Reach sometime soon. I couldn’t leave right away, but after I had just found my brother after five years of not seeing him, I wasn’t about to let him go. So, I made the promise that I’d meet him in Daven’s Reach.
So, that’s where it kind of all started. I invited Rauran to go with me, and we set out from the little village and made our way to Daven’s Reach.