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Played by: David Li
Character Name: Oliver Coswell
Gender: Male
Class: Cleric
Age: 30
Race: Human
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue
Occupation: Griffin researcher
Known Skills: Divine Magic
Birthplace: Small village

My earliest memories were of my father. Him practicing magic, making potions, and writing notes down in a large tome. He was constantly working with one thing or another. I remember one time trying to see what was in that tome while he was asleep. I don’t know how he knew but before I could even get a glance I was caught. He became very angry with me and agitated for many days after. From that point on there were very few days where not a single word would pass from his lips. There was only scorn in his eyes for me. I found life more bearable outside that place I was supposed to call home. Thankfully there were a few children around my age I could run around with, otherwise I think he would have tried to kill me earlier and in a different way that would have been successful.

It happened when I was 9 years into my life. The day was extremely cold and snow was just beginning to fall outside. I wanted to go out and play in the fluffy white stuff from the sky but my father stopped me and told me to finish eating so that I could grow up big and strong. That day he was strangely talkative and upbeat. I had thought that something had lifted from him like a bad plague or some other illness. I hoped that we would be a family and that he would love me like the way I saw other fathers with their children. With a smile on both of our faces, I ate every last scrap off my plate then went out to play.

The next day I could not move from my bed. I was sweating horribly and my head was pounding. My father was by my side most of that day giving me water, food and medicine. He was very caring it seemed and he was not at all worried saying I would feel better soon. I was steadily getting worse, nothing seemed to help. One day I recall waking to someone knocking at the door. I think it was a friend of mine seeing if I could go out to play. I went back to sleep and when I woke, a man I had only seen a couple of times around the village was at my bedside. He always looked like a kind old man out for a stroll with his wife when I saw him. He was sponging my face with cool water and chanting. I closed my eyes, feeling the days slip past me. My fever broke and I awoke to a sunny day. Before I was fully awake, I heard a commanding voice.

“Rise boy, for your end is not yet near. You have much to do.”

Never hearing that voice before I was frightened and yelled out for my father. The older man I had seen before by my bedside quickly came in and started making soothing noises and trying to calm me down. He told me that my father was gone. At first I mistook him and thought my father had perished but he clarified that he left to find help for me. I was overjoyed to hear the news of my father, but at the time I didn’t understand why it was said with a look of sadness.

The man explained to me that he was a former cleric of The Order. He left to become a Layperson in his older age.

“I was in The Order of Arnath’s Fist since I was a boy. I have asked a friend of mine to come down and talk with you. Give him a chance and hear him out. Ok?”

I only nodded at him, with what I only assume was a look of doubt on my face. He was talking like my father wasn’t coming back. He was the only family I had.

“Look how I turned out after all,” he continued with a little chuckle. “I have a beautiful wife and 3 cute children. I am not saying that the life I have is what you are destined for but ….” He hesitated, thinking about something. “The Order will teach you things and help you to grow into a fine young man. They get to wear shiny armor and wield divine magic.”

A couple of days later his friend visited my house. He was a tall man in heavy looking metal armor, clean-shaven, and stern face. My first feeling of him was he was cold, and possibly angry about something. Once we started talking I realized I was wrong. At least about being cold and later I found out why he was angry. That day he came to talk to me was my first steps toward being a Lion of The Order of Arnath’s Fist.

I saw father one more time. I was helping villages leave their home before the undead and penitent moved over them in a cloud of death. He approached me in an excited state happy to see me again. When I saw him, it looked like the years didn’t treat him all too well. The joy that was on his mouth never reached his eyes that were sunken into his skull. His overall appearance was haggard and worn out.

“Son, at long last I have found you. Quickly, we need to be away from this place.” He tried to grab me but I backed away. I was confused why he was there but I had a sinking feeling about the meeting. He was not at all concerned for anyone else there, almost with a disdainful look in his eye as people fled their homes. “Come with me. Please. They are moving this way and I do not want to be here when they arrive.”

“What do you mean? Who is on the move?” That’s when I knew but I wanted to be wrong. Only those that fought with or against the Penitent knew their movements that well. Sure they were always on the move but that village and that very moment?

“My friends, they will take care of us but we shouldn’t be on the wrong side of the line when they get here.” He moved to grab my arm again and this time I shoved him back. He lost his footing and fell on his ass. The fire of anger was in his eyes now. I remembered it well, almost like an old friend. “They said you would stay to die with these peasants.” He shouted at me while getting to his feet. “I guess that’s true. I knew I should have stayed to finish you off all those years ago.”

At that comment my legs went weak, I was shocked at his bold proclamation. That’s how I missed him chanting and throwing out his hands towards me before I was violently pushed to the ground by a force I never saw. He leaped onto me, poised to stab my face when another Lion ran full on into him striking him hard with his shield. When I got to my feet he was gone. Disappeared in thin air, I silently cursed at myself for losing focus. My commander barked out some order a small distance away and we moved out to defend the fleeing refugees.

The years have past and I have found myself a witness to some great, beautiful and terrifying moments. I am now stationed in Starkhaven where events have been unfolding inside and out.

PLAYED BY: Mike Tukiendorf
CHARACTER NAME: Merrik Koska
GENDER: Male
CLASS: Rogue
AGE:36
RACE: Human
HAIR: Dark Brown
EYES: Brown
OCCUPATION: Pickpocket, thief, survivalist, hunter, assassin if price is right. All around thug.
KNOWN SKILLS: Pick pocket, hunter, rudimentary knowledge of poisons and antidotes.
BIRTHPLACE: Valinate, in the Kingdom of Richtcrag
APPEARANCE: Unshaven, dark clothing, shifty eyes, paranoid
NOTABLE TRAITS: Always looking for something that isn’t there. Always tense. Dark clothes
RELATIONSHIPS: Was aligned with Daven’s Reach, but when Percival Von Borscht wanted to make Daven’s Reach a legit settlement, Merrik decided to leave town, thinking that he wouldn’t be wanted. He befriended Marcus Clearbrook and traveled south to New Hope. Where hearing about The Broken Blade from Marcus, Merrik decided to meet Volrok Hinrich to see if he could join the Broken Blade.

RUMORS: With being affiliated with Daven’s Reach, people usually talk and it’s not the good kind of talk. People think you’re a murder and a thief, well they’re right! I probably have a few warrants out for my death, or capture, in the cities of New Aldoria and Crow’s Landing.

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY: I was born in Valinate to a mother who was a whore. I never knew my father, hell it could have been half of Richtcrag. My mother didn’t have the time for me, to her I was just another urchin that she had to deal with. Most of the time the mad’am of the house took care of me. Either because my mother was working or was too drunk to do anything. The Madam, as she liked to be called, was a ruthless and uncaring woman. The only reason I was able to get food from her was because I was good at ‘retrieving’ things. I had a gift, a deftness, that allowed me to steal items without being caught, or if I was caught I was able to run away. Good thing Valinate was a maze of back alleys and blind spots. In my spare time I would wander into the sewers and find my way through the tunnels making note of escape routes and what entrance led to where. That is where I met Jack. You see Jack was a mercenary by trade, but by night he was a wonderous smuggler. He taught me how to fight and that was to never fight fair, for fighting fair would get you killed. So I learned always exploit a weakness, always take the cheap shots, to never give up, and you might live to retire. At least that is what he would say, though he never really explained what that word meant, but I bet it got boring.

I was about 20 when the Undead Scourge came and I was forced to quit my profession as a smuggler/thief in Valinate. I killed one of the sailors on a large ship leaving port and assumed his identity. There I held my own, learning some basic knots from the sailors along the way for the many months till we landed in what is now New Aldoria. I fell back into my old ways and got caught a couple times. The new world didn’t have as many hiding spots as the old world, and I hated it! I had to leave New Aldoria in the dark of night with a couple bodies in my wake. I don’t intend of returning, but if I do, it will be with a new identity.

I moved up the coast to Oarsmeet. At the time, Oarsmeet was a great town to lay low or to use as a base of operations. The Prince made short work of that. Remind me to send him a card laced in nightshade, the ass!

I then moved up to Daven’s Reach. That is where I have been working on my hunting, herbablism too. Now that Daven’s Reach is going to be a civilized town, I decided it was time for me to move again. The current management wasn’t to my liking. I guess I will see where this Marcus Clearbrook fellow takes me. Hopefully somewhere good, for his sake.

PLAYED BY: James Sampers

CHARACTER NAME: Jadd Hatchen

GENDER: Male

CLASS: Rogue

AGE: 25

RACE: Human

HAIR: Dark

EYES: Brown

OCCUPATION: Raised and trained to be a blacksmith.

KNOWN SKILLS: A skilled and well trained blacksmith who is willing to repair both everyday items as well as armor and weapons.

BIRTHPLACE: Born in Aldoria.

APPEARANCE: Average height and weight, plain to look at.

NOTABLE TRAITS: Nothing of note.

RELATIONSHIPS: None, seeking to restart after the loss of his family.

RUMORS: “He’s lived a hard life, but his work is good.” “A man of his word, because that’s all he has.”
BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY: Jadd was born 10 years prior to the trip across the sea to the new lands. His father was a good blacksmith as his father before him. His mother helped to brew some of the local ales and other alcoholic beverages sought out at the local inns and bars. But this did not last. The war against the undead came and Jadd’s mother died. He and his father sold all their possessions and booked passage on ship to the new world. Following that hard trip, Jadd and his father setup a small business as a blacksmith for a time in New Aldoria. Once they had enough money, his father had plans to move elsewhere to establish himself in a new settlement. They went north towards Starkhaven and ended up settling near Daven’s Reach. Soon after this, his father succumbed to sickness and died that winter.
Jadd took over the smithy and eventually married. He had both a son and a daughter. Then during the Ulven Civil war, Starkhaven requested help with an expedition to secure a pass in the Wolf’s Hackles Mountains. Jadd agreed to go and left his family and smithy. The expedition was assisted by Clan Nightriver. The way was difficult and the expedition ultimately failed. Upon their return, Jadd found that Clan Grimward had raided his smaller village while he was away. His entire family (and the village) was killed in that raid.
Jadd is now on his own with no ties. After burying his family and his sorrows, he has decided to go further east, away from Clan Grimward. Perhaps he may yet help out another settlement now that a truce has been worked out.

Name: Marcus Clearbrook
Race: Human
Class: Warrior
Born: 240 in northern Aldoria forests near a farming village called Arkus

Proficiencies:
-knowledgeable in forest survival
-adept at gardening
-hardworking
-knows how to read and write
-knows way around a farm
-has decent relationship with Ulven
Occupation: Hunter/woodsman…. looking to possibly be trained as a guard

Marcus sat in the tavern looking out the window at New Hope. The sun shone brightly, melting snow from the previous winter, bringing hopes of an early spring. Which everyone would love to get the crops planted as soon as possible in hopes of a bountiful crop. Finishing his dark ale, he turned back to ask the innkeeper for another tankard of this bitter, but pleasing brew. Marcus felt good. He and Brodin made it to New Hope without further issue after nearly dying outside the Hidden Gem inn. Thanks to Fritha and her ulven companions for saving their lives.
Since he and Brodin made it to New Hope, it has been a flutter of activity. Well mostly for Brodin. With him completing his task for the Pheonix and now has set up a small stall with his silver smithing shop to make some coin during their stay. Marcus, well he has helped out with some tedious paperwork for the Phoenix, went hunting a couple times and a few fishing excursions. But mostly it seems like he just goes from tavern to tavern, sampling beers and learning what gossip or information that he can. A great many people suggest groups that he can join up with to find direction and purpose. One shady individual with an affinity for whiskey suggested that a pirate group might be interested. Ha, the notion Marcus Clearbrook being a pirate. The notion felt so absurd that Marcus noticeably chuckled out loud.
At the other end of the small tavern sat a man with a shiny dented breastplate that reflected light, which shone through a nearby window. “Is something funny, Sir?” he asked pointedly. Marcus turned to face the man and sized him up briefly. The man was of a large build similar to himself, short cropped beard and an assortment of scars that patched his face. This wasn’t a man to fool with, Marcus thought, I’m sure that whatever caused those scars didn’t live very long to tell the tale. “Nothing at all, just happy for the prospect of an early spring. Care for a tankard of this interesting dark ale?” Marcus asked kindly. “Aye, I have tried the innkeepers brew before, but this is definitely his best batch.”
Marcus retrieved another tankard for the stranger and went to join him at his small round table. As he sat down he sized him up even more. This man had a very odd assortment of clothing, Bright red and black clothes with all different patterns, and his helm was decorated with multiple red feathers. Marcus thought it was odd, but he wasn’t about to point it out to this gentleman.
“Where are you from?” The stranger said.
“New Aldoria recently, Aldoria before coming to Mardun.” Marcus said.
“Oh really? How did you end up here?” He asked before Marcus could ask his own question.
“That is a pretty long and drawn out story. It would take us deep into the night.” Marcus stated matter of a fact.
“I will take the abbreviated version if you have one. I have to check up on my troops in a little while.” He said glancing outside
“Well, I was born in little farming community called Arkos. My mother taught me to read and write, and keep a garden. My father taught me to hunt and hold many of the morals and standards that I have today. My family was killed by the undead advancement into Aldoria, when I was 10 or 11, I can’t remember. I narrowly escaped with my life. Caught a boat bound to Mardrun, settled in New Aldoria for the next 10 or so years. That is where I learned how to inventory cargo and keep a tight schedule. I developed a love of beer and a hate of many greedy and selfish people. I also honed my skills for skinning and butchering for an elderly tanner. Eventually, I was forced to leave, because of corrupt guards and people who didn’t stand up for me after I helped them out more than I should have. I fled toward New Hope during this last winter, which wasn’t easy. I saved a now current friend of mine from a group of bandits. We nearly died in last month’s horrendous blizzard, but we were narrowly saved by a band of Ulven. Which makes me really appreciate them all the more. After that…. experience. We made our way here, where he has traveled for the Phoenix, for now. Me, I am still looking for my calling.” Marcus said as he looked thoughtfully in his dark beer, no reflection or words of wisdom in the cold brew.
The flamboyantly clad stranger looked at Marcus sternly. “Have you killed a man?” He asked without feeling.
“Yes, to save those I thought needed help. I don’t kill for pleasure, or because they have something I want. I am of a mind to work hard for whatever I want.” Marcus said with passion.
“And what do you want?” He asked while looking at Marcus with intense blue eyes.
Marcus looked out the window to see a man hauling wood in a hand cart, a couple small kids happy to be outside without fear of being horribly cold or getting sick. Then he met the stranger’s gaze. “I want to help people that can’t help themselves. I want to make this place a better place for Ulven, Syndar, and Human alike. I don’t have much money and don’t have a lot of training in a trade. I would rather know a lot of things do them fairly well, than to be an expert at one thing. I want to help, like I have been given help. I want direction without someone taking advantage of me.” Marcus broke the man gaze and thought that either this is a very strong brew or it has been a very odd couple of months. He never used to be this open with strangers.
The stranger looked at him and then outside. He finished his tankard with one long chug and got up. “I must be off; I thank you for the great brew and the abbreviated tale. I must get going to review my troops, I will see you tomorrow.” The stranger turned to leave, his rapier clanging the chair as he turned. This sudden statement left Marcus flabbergasted and wanting.
“Wait! What do you mean that you will see me tomorrow? And as a matter of fact, where? Marcus said excitedly and confused.
The stranger turned. “Oh didn’t I tell you? Silly of me. I am going to train you to fight; I have need of people like you. We will be leaving in the morning. Be there at dawn and we will draw up papers of your enlistment. And if you do not show, then I will assume that you decided to enjoy your life as a futureless drifter in a land that is neither his and becoming more inhospitable by the season. Now is the time for you to learn how to fight, so you can be either a valuable asset or a worthy challenge in the shaping of Mardrun. Good day” The gaily dressed warrior, opened the door, donned his flamboyant helm, and strutted down the street.
Marcus watched him leave, drained his tankard, got up and walked to the thin innkeeper whipping down a wine goblet.
“I will take another tankard of this fine brew, and then I must be off. I must tell my friend that it is time for our adventure to continue!”

Played By: Keith Duckman

Character Name: Sarmion

Gender: Male

Class: Cleric

Age: 25

Race: Human

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Blue

Occupation: Wandering cleric

Known skills: He received standard training with weapons and armor under the Order, though they have mostly fallen into disuse. Low level divine magic ability, along with knowledge of how it is used at higher levels, was picked up during his Order days. His Lion training taught him the basics of battlefield tactics to prepare him for battle against the Undead.

Appearance: A tall man, over six feet, with a muscular but not bulky build, Sarmion carries himself like a warrior. Brown hair is cut short then allowed to grow until it becomes bothersome, before being cut short again, resulting in hair length varying throughout the months. His blue eyes are restless, constantly flitting about, missing little. While his bearing may be that of a warrior, his garb is not. He is usually clad in simple boots, pants and a tunic, with a simple hooded cloak over all of it. A walking stick is typically carried rather than a sword, and he rarely finds himself armored.

Relationships: As Sarmion has been wandering about the human settlements since his arrival on Mardrun, he has formed no strong connections with anyone, though he hasn’t made any enemies, either. The few that bother to remember his name probably only know him as the wandering cleric that was kicked out of the Order of Arnath.

Rumors: While most don’t bother themselves with talk of the wandering cleric, they occasionally speculate on the truth of why, exactly, he was expelled from the Order of Arnath, despite him making no secret of the story.

Bio/Background History: Sarmion was born in the year 239 in a small village in the foothills of the Celestial Mountains, not far from the High Fortress of the Order of Arnath. At a young age he showed what his parents believed to be an aptitude for divine magic, and so they promptly gave him to the Order. Sarmion was trained no different from any other, taught to be a warrior and to defend the weak. In time, he proved his parents right, for after several years with the Order and much study he did indeed develop a small knack for the divine.

He was quickly made a Lion, which should have led him to greatness, or at least the possibility to rise above his humble beginnings, but instead turned out to lead to his great shame. In the year 259, he and the rest of his squad were on the march to reinforce the Order against the hordes of Undead when they came upon what their commander assumed was a group of bandits. He quickly gave the order for the supposed bandits to be dispatched, and Sarmion did the unthinkable: he refused the order on the grounds that the men had not committed any crime that they knew of. When Sarmion turned and walked away from the commander, his commander flew into a rage and ordered Sarmion shackled and brought back to the High Fortress to be tried as a deserter.

The ensuing trial was over quickly; Sarmion’s entire squad saw him walking away from the commander, and that was enough for the judges to condemn him. Stripped of arms and armor and branded, Sarmion was cast out from the Order. Sarmion’s faith in Arnath was severely shaken; he found the idea that his religious leaders would condemn his refusal to attack men they stumbled across deeply troubling. Rather than stay in a land that he believed would rather have him serve as an unthinking soldier than a shield for the weak, Sarmion sought passage to the continent of Mardrun, where he has been ever since, a cleric in search of a god.

Played By: Ian Loebl

Character Name: Lord Suroth Dōro

NOTE: This name is written with the surname preceding the first name.

Gender: Male

Class: Warrior

Age: 23

Race: Naran Human

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Gray

Occupation: Head of House Suroth

Known Skills: Wields a warhammer, and is extremely intelligent in matters of governance

Birthplace: The island of the Narans

Appearance: Tall, and wearing robes or rarely armor. Rarely shows emotion except in certain cases.

Notable Traits: Has an accent, and is very devoted to honor and to contracts.

Relationships: Travels with the monk Kyoshin Shi, and the priestess Lapis Rae

Rumors: That when loosed, his temper is enough to level mountains.

Bio:

My story begins in my grandfather’s time, when the Nara Pentare were a strong people. Isolated within our mountains, we lived our lives with honor and dignity. At least, so I am told. That all came to an end when Nara was attacked by the undead. They fought, without honor, and killed many of us, raising them from the dead to join them. We might not have survived. But, so my father said, our leaders were wise, and had constructed a fleet of ships, which carried some of our people away, my grandfather and my infant father among them. They sailed for quite a time, eventually finding land, and settling down. There, we began to rebuild. On that land, my grandfather died, and my father became the head of our House, eventually creating me, his son and heir. My childhood was full of learning, about war, and about our culture and history, rich and full of honor. I could have learned the sword, but I chose to honor an old tradition of our family, and I learned the warhammer instead. On Faedrun, our small but prosperous lands were known for their smiths and small metalwork. As a consequence, generations of we who ruled honored the smiths by using hammers. When I turned twenty, my studies and practice were brought to an abrupt end when my father died, and I took leadership of our house’s establishment on Mardrun. The next few years were filled with administration and papers, but one day, an interesting piece of news came to us. Evidently, there were Narans on the mainland of Mardrun, among the Colonies. This caused a stir, and debate began at our highest levels as to what to do about it. It was eventually [[#|decided]] that they should be tested, to see if they had kept to our ways, or if the outlanders had corrupted them with their undesirable influences. Those corrupted would be cleansed, to [[#|ensure]] that the Naran people would remain pure and uncorrupted. I was selected to accompany the monk Kyoshin Shi and the priestess Lapis Rae on their expedition to do so. As we arrived, we discovered that, as was wont to happen, the foolish outlanders had gotten [[#|involved]] in a war, and Mardrun was gripped by chaos. This made our task even more difficult, but no less vital. A failure will not be tolerated. To cleanse the Naran people is a great and honorable duty, and I embrace it, no matter what the cost will be.

Name: Nikiri Umbra
Player: Aaron Pfeffer
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Occupation: Mercenary
Religion: Unknown (seems to hear a voice in his head)

Bio: It’s a stormy night as a soldier runs through a small remote town, the sounds of battle in the distance. He runs up a set of stairs, throws open the door and sees a man leaning over a table with a helmet, a spear and a shield next to him. He quickly walks over and says, “Commander Nikiri, the men are barely holding the Undead at the gate.” The man looks over his shoulder at the soldier and says, “What about the town’s people? Have they been put on the boats?” The soldier replies, “Yes Sir, they’re just waiting on us.” Commander Nikiri, “Hmm, good. Get to the boat. I will go to the gate and have the men fall back.” Soldier, “Yes Sir.” As the soldier runs out of the building, the commander puts his helmet on, picks up his spear and shield, takes one last looks around the room, then walks out into the rain.

Commander Nikiri Umbra is the Commander of the town guard of a small Vandregonian town named Valdell. The people of the town always greet and treat him with kindness. He is a strong willed man who has made the oath he took when he joined the guard the focus of his life. To guard and protect the people of the town and people who are in need. To do right wherever he can. He was raised to treat people with respect and honor, but he hates the dishonorable. Those that would take advantage of the weak. He only tells his name to the people that have truly earned his trust and respect. As a result of his personality, he rose quickly through the ranks of the town guard and became the youngest commander the small town has had.

As Commander Nikiri runs up onto the gate, he sees the men manning the watch towers firing arrows down into the undead ranks. Men on the ground are bracing against the gate, doing their best to hold it shut. One of the soldiers notices Commander Nikiri and shouts “Commander, they will break through any moment now.” The Commander shouts back, “Everyone pull back and board the ships. Move it!” All the soldiers shout “Yes Sir!” and start running back to the docks.

Just as they reach the street to the docks, the gate breaks open and Undead start to pour through. A soldier shouts, “Oh crap. They broke through!” Commander Nikiri shouts back, “Double time to the boats people!” Right as he turns to start running, something hits him in the back of the head and he falls to the ground. He hears a soldier shout, “Commander! Come on guys pick him up. We need to get him to the ship.” He feels them start to pick him up then he blacks out.

He starts to hear noises and feels like he’s rocking. He manages to open his eyes and sees he’s in the hold of a ship that appears to be getting thrown around by waves. He hears wood crack and someone shouting for a bucket, then blacks out again. He awakes again but this time he’s lying on a beach. As he gets up, he sees wreckage all around him. He looks inland and says to himself, “These are not the shores of the mainland.” He starts walking down the beach in search of supplies and equipment. He manages to find a spear and shield but nothing else. He decides to head inland to see if he can find some food or maybe a town.

Over time he manages to find food and a town, but he has never seen these people before. He manages to get some supplies. He couldn’t get any information from the colonists since he felt like they didn’t want him there, so once he got his supplies he left town and started wandering. Through his travels, he gathers plants to make food with and eventually he was able to make more than he needs. He now sells the extra food he makes and hires out as a short time mercenary for some extra money. He keeps wandering and exploring this land that he has washed up on in peace, occasionally stopping to talk to someone that isn’t there.

He hasn’t found any trace of his people that came with him from Valdell. How could they all have disappeared? What are the odds that he would be the only survivor when he wasn’t even conscious when the boat wrecked? During his wanderings, he always keeps a sharp eye for a familiar face and is determined to find out what happened to his people.

Yet it seems he cannot escape war. In his travels he has heard whispers of battles and a growing war and he feels that he will be swept up in it at some point. If he is forced to join in the battle, he would join with the side that is in need, but also honorable and just.

Played By: Lisa Mork
Character Name: Umm Haidar
Full Name: Umm Haidar Atifa Bint Baqi Al Mo’alej Al Saresh
Translation: Mother of Hadir, Atifa, Daughter of Faraj, the healer, of Saresh
HAIDAR حيدر m Arabic
Means “lion” in Arabic
ATIFA عاطفه f Arabic
Feminine form of ATIF Means “affection, kindness” in Arabic.
BAQI باقي m Arabic
Means “eternal” in Arabic. This was the pen name of a 16th-century Turkish poet.
Race: Human
Class: Cleric
Occupation: Mercenary healer
Notable Traits:
Dislikes Penitent
Religious Zealot (of Mahsai)
Strongly believes in the sanctity of life
Dislikes fighting
Willing to heal all

Backstory: What are you searching for? Have you ever really thought about it? You have spent your whole life chasing experience. Why? You can use the experience you gain to better yourself if you try, but is that your goal? Are you merely trying to amass skill, wealth, and power? Like some sort of parasite, competing with the rest of your kind to see who can be the fattest, while your host languishes under the combined weight of you and your ilk.

I know my answer. Peace. Not the peace of nations, or two people settling a feud. I care nothing for the pains of others. Inner peace is my aim. The peace of balance, of stillness, that lets your living mind feel the silence of the grave. I am no tick to take the life blood of those around me for my own uses. I must make my own spiritual sustenance, for I will be eternal.

I remember when our King rose again. I recall the terror when he ordered the gates opened, and the confusion when we were not killed. The Penitent walked through the city as if they were on parade, they looked so proud. I still sometimes wonder if they thought they had conquered us. The undead merely walked. Corpses (even walking ones) have no need for pride although it could just be that they knew the truth. I was still a girl when the gates were opened, but I had lived my whole life trying to conquer my fear of the undead and their followers. When I was suddenly confronted with the reality of living side by side with my nightmares and the worst did not come to pass, I was forced to look at the “enemy” in a new light.

The Undead were not what I expected. They were gruesome, sure, but they just didn’t do very much. Most of the time they were just still. I was surprised to learn that despite their formidable power and martial prowess they are actually quite fragile. Most of the times that I did see them moving they were engaged in activities to preserve their bodies. The Undead with flesh did things like stitching together cuts and oiling their skin like I would care for leather armor. Those without would pad their joints with leather to prevent the bones from wearing. They seemed particularly concerned with preventing rot, I imagine they found the dry desert air of Saresh comforting.

It turned out that the real monsters were the Penitent. I am not sure if they felt entitled, were stupid, or had just never spent time in civilization. Within the May’Kar Dominion, everything has a price and nothing is free. I remember on that first day when the gates were open, seeing a group Penitent arguing with an innkeeper about having to pay for a room. One of them became so enraged at the idea of having to pay, they struck the innkeeper. A passing lesser Undead shambled over, and the group of Penitent started to grin. I suspect that they thought they were about to see a show, it turned out that they were right. The lesser Undead grabbed the hand that had hit the innkeeper, pulled it and the arm from the Penitent and beat him with his own arm till he stopped moving. Then it just walked away as if it had been window shopping and decided the price was too high on the item it was looking at. I had thought that the lesson was clear, that violence against the May’Kar would not be tolerated. I was wrong. The next morning the innkeeper was found on the spot the Penitent had fallen, her body parts had been “cleverly” rearranged to form the distinctive teardrops that the Penitent had tattooed on their cheeks. The real lesson was that violence against the May’Kar would not be seen… I knew many people who tried to leave Saresh for the villages or even the other nations, but every time someone would try to leave there would be “tears” on the road when the gates were opened in the morning. While we were no longer under siege from without, the siege from within was much worse.

It wasn’t long before the Vandregonians came and it was not just us that were trapped within the walls of Saresh. The Penitent numbers quickly dwindled since they seemed to prefer fighting the Vandregonians head on to letting the desert do the fighting for them. Perhaps they were bored. Perhaps they had something to prove. Perhaps they just didn’t understand the patience required to weather a siege. I was almost happy. The Vandregonians laid siege to Saresh for 17 years before they finally broke us as a people. I don’t know how they broke our walls. My husband and I had found a way out of the city before it fell, but that isn’t the part that matters anyways. What matters is what the barbarians did once we were defeated. They lined my people up and asked them if they would fight to stop the Penitent and their undead gods. As if they didn’t know that we follow Mashi… I wonder if they phrased the question that way on purpose. I could almost overlook the genocide, if it weren’t for Saresh itself. You would think that it would be enough to destroy our people and scatter us, but no. They burned Saresh and toppled anything that was left. They destroyed our libraries, poisoned the wells, and desecrated the statues of the gods. The Vandregonians made sure that we could never rebuild the glory of the city that was heaven on earth.

After Saresh fell everything was different. I was 25 and on the run with my husband through the great forests trying to find a safe place. It was the first time I had been outside the walls of Saresh and the outside world may as well have been another planet for all I knew of it. It was years, and a lifetime, before we found ourselves on a ship bound for Mardrun. By that time we had found other May’Kar and it almost felt like we had a real family again. All of us were infatuated with the idea of saving our culture from annihilation. We decided to settle in secret far away from the other human colonies, and to try and rebuild the best we could from memory.

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…