Wiki Pages – Page 59 – Last Hope Larp

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Haze

My birthname matters little anymore—people who know me simply call me Haze. I was born into an unimportant May’Kar family. My family had little money for food so as soon as I was old enough I was apprenticed out to anyone who would have me.
My first master was a torch-maker. I spent two years coated in pitch before running away. My next master owned a livery, but in finding me ill suited for the animals he sold my services to Alfedro the locksmith.
Being Alfedro’s apprentice amounted to being a slave. He fed me well enough and the lodging was better than my previous accommodations of tar and straw but no bed or bread could make up for Alfedro’s cruelty. I scrubbed and cooked and cleaned and farmed but only rarely was tasked with oiling a mechanism or grinding a new key.
Alfedro had few books and all of them dedicated to his trade. I was a poor reader but I studied the drawings and diagrams of the locks at every opportunity patiently waiting the day I would escape his yoke. The day came when Afeldro was called by a wealthy nobleman to install a new safe. Alfedro was so flustered by the late arrival of the movers that he forgot to lock me in. I left with everything I could carry and a spare set of master keys—pausing only to grind a key to the safe Alfedro was now installing. That day I whisked away into the slums never to look back.
I made quite a splash in the thieves’ guild and was able to keep a roof and bread by selling spare keys and information on where they could be used. I bought my time and saved up to put together my own crew—though I had sold many of my stolen keys I had always kept one special key for myself: the nobleman’s safe key. This prize was mine. I gave no regard to the method of our robbery—we simply barged in during the night and stormed to our prize.
The silver and gems amounted to quite the hoard—with more than enough spare to buy a cart and a few horses swift enough to get us to the border lands of Aldoria. Only a day’s travel from the border we began to have trouble with the wagon—trust being in short supply I divvied up our spoils and under cover of darkness I left on foot alone towards Aldoria. After two days of marching I bribed a group of Road Wardens for a donkey and made my way to a ship and to Mardrun.

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Page 59

Knud Saavesen Aaker

Character: Knud Saavesen Aaker

Player: Nathan Lloyd

Knud had ten years when his small fishing village was raided. He and his elder brother of five years were on their way back home when they saw the smoke. They both knew it would be bad when they got to shore, and each were holding the two weapons available in their small boat, a sharp knife to clean the fish and a long hook to help pull in nets. They were separated in the chaos of the raid, but both knew their way home. His brother, being more developed by his comparatively advanced years, was already hunched over the
bloodied corpse of his mother, sobbing, when Knud finished his sprint. When he finally looked up and saw Knud through his sorrow, that sorrow turned to fear and then that fear turned to rage. Knud was still in shock when his older brother ran screaming into the chaos, hook extended from one hand and his knife readied in the other. He doesn’t remember how long he wailed over his dead mother before he realized where his brother had gone. What stands out in his mind even to this day was the chill that ran down his spine when his own rage took him into the fray. He wasn’t as strong as the men fighting with shields and axes, but Knud was quick to duck through the melee, hooking the occasional shield so that his clansman’s axe could land true.

Through the screams and the bloodshed, he eventually found his brother enthralled in combat. At his side was a large viking who treated him all the respect due a fellow warrior. Throughout the melee, the large man blocked or countered dozens of blows that would have otherwise split Knud’s brother in two.

As the battle turned for the worse, the large man tried to get Knud’s brother to see reason and retreat, but he continued to get more and more reckless in his maneuvers, and eventually even the seasoned veteran could not save the boy. With an axe to the chest, Knud’s brother fell, and Knud was left orphaned. The large viking grabbed Knud by the waist and retreated while Knud sobbed.

That was the last Knud saw of his home. The viking introduced himself as Ivar, and Knud asked if he could stay on with Ivar’s crew. It has been ten more seasons since this story began, and Knud does not see it ending anytime soon.

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Page 59

Kalt d’Thidranki

Player: Matt Voiku
Character: Kalt d’Thidranki
Race: Human
Class: Rogue

——–

“So, We are recounting the history of man are We?”
“The history of A man, to be more precise…”
“And why are We detailing this man’s past?”
“Everyone has a past…a story to them…”
“So they do. And We will ignore the fact that you neglected to answer my question; for now”

“The night which it all ultimately began was no different from any other. He was…”
“Who is he. He has a name, We know he must have a name…”
“Ah, yes, His name…The man’s name was Kalt. Kalt d’Thidranki, and he had been moving from city to town to settlement for as long and he could remember taking what he needed or wanted as he pleased.”
“So he was a thief?”
“Among other things, yes. And this title is quite relevant to his story. It all began due to Kalt’s larcenous habits. On this night he was walking with a pair of well armed men…”
“That’s not it. We saw this part, he was running and they were chasing”
“Oh yes, you are quite right. He was running from the town guard after a mugging a man in the street for his coin purse. Now normally, Kalt would have familiarized himself more with a new town before committing any acts of burglary, but this mark was too easy to pass up, and his greed got the better of him you see.”
“So Kalt was running through unfamiliar streets with guards closing in on him. Kalt is at this point incredibly aware of his impending incarceration, but he continues running and turns a corner where he sees a caravan wagon with a man standing by it.
“But all of this is not the interesting part. What We found intriguing is what happening next. When the guards turned the corner and saw they man at the caravan wagon, and they asked him which way the thief went. The guards again asked if he had seen a man running by here, and which way he went. The wagon man…”
“Again you leave out names!”
“Ah yes, the wagon man is called Ivar”
“Each time the guards asked Ivar which way Kalt had gone Ivar told them he had no idea what they were talking about.”
“After Ivar denied any knowledge of Kalt’s whereabouts, Kalt heard two swords being drawn, then the sound of two swords clattering to the dirt, then the sound of two men in armor collapsing.”
“Kalt started to move out the other side of the wagon, but he stopped and looked around at the scene with Ivar. Curiosity getting the better of him this time you see. And looking at what had befallen Ivar, his ears certainly had not deceived him. Two others stood over the unconscious guards.”
“Ivar then turned to Kalt and said, “I could use a man like you”

“And they rest, as they say, is history. Kalt has been traveling with Ivar from that day onward”

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Page 59

Aoleon Vance

Aoleon Vance grew up with family in Aldoria. His father
was a traveling Tutor from Vandregon, and had fallen for
Aoleon’s mother, who played lute at an inn he
frequented. The two of them started a family, though when he
stopped traveling, his income suffered. Though, their
affection for each other was so strong, that not even
poverty could dampen their spirits. They managed to build a
house, and raised a fine son, the dangers of the outside
world a distant fear from inside their warm little
family.

Though Aoleon never new riches, he knew
happiness, learned manners and all manners of things as he
grew. It was fortune in the form of a candle fire, burning
their home, that saved them from the first wave of undead.
They saved what little food and possessions they could from
the fire, and made their way away, spirits dampened, but
brim with hope. They were safely a week’s travel closer
to the coast when the rubble of their home was overrun by
the undead plague.

It was fortune that saved them, and it was
fortune that tore them apart. A simple mugger: a man,
nothing more, armed with a simple dagger, looking for
silver, and desperate enough to spill blood for it. Aoleon
Vance managed to escape the man with nothing more than the
clothes on his back and his mother’s lute. He managed to
make way onto a boat heading to the new continent before
things got insurmountably violent.

On the voyage and for a time after, he traded
lessons and stories for food. Though he was not trained in
any craft, he apprenticed to several shopkeepers, learning
not only the value of a coin, but also how to tell how badly
somebody might want something, or what they’d be willing
to pay for it. Buying from some and selling to others (as
well as a bit of scribe work), he made what he considered a
fortune: he was rarely hungry, and had grown in strength and
knowledge enough to explore his interests.

He owns two scrolls, each inscribed with one of
two words: Faedrun and Mardrun. In the fear that the great
libraries of Faedrun have been destroyed, he plans to
compile as much information about Faedrun’s history, the
colonists who escaped, and their families as he can; in the
other scroll, he hopes to write what he learns about
Mardrun’s history, their inhabitants, and the problems
that plague this land. He has recently made the decision to
forgo his last name, knowing it won’t open any political
doors for him, he hopes at least that it won’t burn
bridges before he even has a chance to cross them.

To achieve these goals, he has begun traveling.
For the past almost three months, he has traveled with the
Brotherhood of Last Winter, sharing meals and stories.
Though they treat him friendly enough, he still considers
himself an outsider, merely a traveling companion. He’s
excited to get a chance to explore the fascinating new
continent, and though he has no idea what’s in store for
him, he knows that he can do good in the world.

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Page 59

Ivar

Character: Ivar
Player: Joe Pierce
Race: Human
Class: Warrior
Origin: Richtcrag

Bio:
Born to Helga And Braun Wolfspliter. Life with them was short, and ended tragically. During a Late night raid victims lost to slaughter in this cold night of resolution. This village had been fighting off the undead hoards productively for years . Many proud and famous warriors sprung from the loins of this settlement carving their way, writing their stories of valor and glory in pools of enemies blood. But not this night . This night there would be no stories to tell , no glory to behold. This night, there is only darkness, an end of this village.

As the screams of the first victims alerted the others, Helga took her son and hid him in the food storage locker. Sleeping softly nestled in a basket of bread loaves and honey rolls, Too young to understand what was happening around him. As the undead slashed stabbed ,and then chewed their way from one end of the village to the other, till all were processed into an unrecognizable version of their former selves. When the dawn broke and light shined in Var ran from his hiding place.

The next few years where not much more than a blur for Var. Work small jobs earning coin and always moving, running. In his fleeing he found himself on this new continent. He still worked and moved restlessly but with less fear in his movements. Working for a few weeks at a time instead of days. Even staying a few months in places. But still always packing up and leaving when that restless feeling would rear it’s head. It was on one such of these moves, when Var was 25, that it happened. His party was raided.

Var’s group had stumbled near enough to a Mordok settlement where the occupants were none too pleased. The group had been either killed or ran off, only Var remained. He had been slashed, beaten, battered, and bruised within an inch of his life but the Mordok seemed to have a use for him in this state. A commanding figure walked forth and looked at Var. It seemed to bark some guttural orders to those around and they dragged Var into a wooden cage and locked him inside.
Var passed out soon after.

Var has no real account of how long they kept him locked up. They kept him in a weakened state. They barely fed and watered him. It seemed it was only enough that he wouldn’t die. Many would come and stab at him or scream at him. Once in a while the same commanding figure would come to look at him. It would seem to mumble to itself and cast some bones then shake its head and leave. It appeared to be a shaman. One of these visits the shaman seemed excited by the casting and there was a large uproar with the others.

After however long of living in wretched filth, for only the gods know, the Mordok seemed to have their use for Var. He was weak, his head spun, but he knew this could not be good for him. In their hasty preparations they had finally left Var without a guard. He worked as hard and fast as his sickened body would allow. He finally got the lashings free and slipped out of the cage that held him for so long. He ran away from the camp as fast as his feet would carry him. He was a good distance away when he heard their shouts of rage. He knew they would catch him and quickly. He came to a small stream and tried to wade through but it was much deeper than he expected. He started trying to swim but was easily swept away.

Var barely held on to his thought. He was fading fast. He drifted for what felt like days but was in reality only an hour. He felt something lift him out of the water and he slipped into an unconscious state. He awoke in what appeared to be a long house surrounded by people. It had been so long since he had seen any one else. He was shocked he did not know what to do. The eldest male stepped forward “What is your name?” He asked. It had been so long, Var had lost so much of himself there. He could not speak. His throat hurt. The man saw that it was a struggle for Var and said “I Brom” pointing at himself. Var was able to force out “I Var.”
“Ivar it is.” Said Brom with a smile.

In his new home , now Ivar, had relearned how to be human. How to talk and how to write how to hunt and how to farm. All the skills he had lost in captivity. Finding his place in this tribal warrior community, his ferocity got him far amongst his peers. The simple fact of the matter is his old family on the happiest holiday of the year was rougher than this races worst day ever. This gave him an edge in the warrior department. All the time trying to fit in , trying to be the best warrior , hunter, provider. But it was only a matter of time before Ivar’s restless nature grab hold again and he moved on from his temporary home.

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Page 59

Aimerick Bordeaux

PLAYED BY: Ryan Jopp
CHARACTER NAME: Aimerick Bordeaux
GENDER: Male
CLASS: Rogue
AGE: 30
RACE: Human
HAIR: Brown
EYES: Brown
OCCUPATION: Professional Mercenary (Member of the Gallant Feathers)
KNOWN SKILLS: Armor, shield, instructor, crossbow, spear
BIRTHPLACE: Aldoria
APPEARANCE: Average human but adorned in shiny plate and red/gold colors of the Gallant Feathers
NOTABLE TRAITS: Terrible accent commonly referred to as “Dirty Aldorian” which is a byproduct of the extreme mix of cultures in the bustling economical centers of Aldoria.
RELATIONSHIPS: None.

UPDATE: After being captured by mordok, tortured, wounded, and corrupted, Aimerick was in very bad shape. He pledged to the Stormjarl/New Aldorian contract enemy, not wanting to be left behind when the Gallant Feathers went to fight. Corruption continued to wrack his body and fester his wounds, making death imminent. The last patrol in during the second month, Aimerick refused to stay back at camp or with the supply wagons and ended up succumbing to wounds taken to the battle. His body was burned on a pyre alongside other fallen warriors of the campaign.

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY: Aimerick was born to a normal family. His mother was involved in some of the affairs of nobility but mainly as an assistant to many different business contracts. His father was a professional mercenary, a member of the Iochlaocra. What began as a romantic evening of swooning and courting between a lady and an intriguing mercenary quickly turned into a broken family of raising a child amidst growing gambling debt and drinking problems. Needless to say, Aimerick’s parents had no love for each other.

Growing up in the bustling districts of Aldoria saw all sorts of adventures… and trouble… for Aimerick. He commonly ran with the wrong crowd and ended up working off many petty childhood crimes or debts of service. His mother grew cold and was busy working, so their bond never really took hold. Although she loved him, he was a constant burden on someone trying to make a living. His father, on the other hand, would return after being away for many months on some sort of contract. He loved to play with his son and to Aimerick, he was a legendary hero in a funny hat. This further drove a wedge between Aimerick and his mother; she worked hard to provide for him and his attention was fixated on his father, the sporadic times he visited before disappearing to the nearby casinos, taverns, and brothels.

As Aimerick grew older, he took random jobs to help around the house and began to live a rather normal life. On his 15th birthday, he received a letter. His father had been killed on a contract. Two nobles squabbling over some property hired opposing mercenaries to fight it out, resulting in the death of Aimerick’s father. There was no grand explanation, no epic battle to detail his final moments, just a note about taking an arrow through the throat and a small severance package of silver coin for his service.

This is when the war with the undead became real. They marched on Aldoria, tearing across the land, and the kingdom was about to be lost during “The Fall”. Aimerick’s mother bought him passage on a boat but was forced to remain behind. He still does not know if she survived or not… if she made it on another boat… but with no word for years, it does not look hopeful.

Upon arriving in Newhope, Aimerick took up random small jobs and eventually took up mercenary work. It tugged at the experience he gained from his rough life in the streets of Aldoria, threatening to engulf him in crime and petty fights. It wasn’t until the Gallant Feathers mercenary unit made a visit to Newhope that Aimerick found his true calling. He fondly remembered the days of his father, the prestige of being in a real and professional mercenary unit. He volunteered and eventually joined, becoming a member of the Gallant Feathers mercenaries.

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Page 59

Nico Tizdra

Played by: Jacob Beardsley
Name: Nico Tizdra
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Race: Human
Hair: Brown
Eyes: blue
Occupation: scientist
Known Skills: alchemy
Birthplace: May’kar Vandregon border
Appearance: wears white and blue robes

Bio

December 16, 248
I found this journal in a house we raided. My mother said I should keep a record just in case. So here I go, my name is Nico Tizdra. I am the son of Boron Tizdra and grandson of Dominik. My father started a group of monster hunters in the name of his father. It is mostly our family and friends and anyone who will take up the fight against the undead and penitent forces. We call ourselves the Watchdogs. I was born September, 238. I have an older sister and a younger brother. We live in both the southern part of Vandregon and northern part of the May’kar dominion. We move around a lot so it is sometimes hard to tell but we all consider ourselves true proud May’kar. As for the Watchdogs, we recruit from anywhere that will join. It’s like a large second family. Right now the war is getting really tough and the winters are even worse. It’s been thirteen years since the May’kar betrayed everyone. I wasn’t born at the time so I don’t remember anything but I do remember never having a true home. The undead are worse than ever and it’s getting harder than ever to stay alive. Whole towns are left broken and bloody from the undead. The Watchdogs track and kill undead and do our best to stay alive. That’s easier said than done, just last week we lost three and we lost ten the month before that. We’re down to about twenty people from the fifty we had traveling with us a year ago. Well, it’s time to pack up and move again so I got to quit writing for now.

September 16, 249
Some of my recent entries were ripped out of my journal. I don’t remember doing it, or where they might be, but I don’t have time to worry about that now. We found some survivors south of a village called Carriagestead in the southern end of Vandregon that brought us back up to about thirty people and so far we are holding that number.

November 02, 249
We have just received reports of a large undead force moving to the North. My father and the rest of the engagement team are planning to intercept them. I’m not worried because they are all clerics and my father is even a Witch, just like my grandfather.

November 10, 249
The engagement team just met back up with us. They are badly hurt and broken. The undead were too strong. There were more cultists and greater undead than anticipated. My father tried but had to give the order to retreat. There are only a handful left out of the fifteen that went out.

January 20, 250
Winter sucks like usual less food every year and even less in winter. So hungry. But hey, can’t complain, we found more survivors willing to fight. We’re at twenty-five strong now.
The Watchdogs have become more of a refugee caravan than an undead killing force, but at least we are still helping people.

July 01, 250
There was a vote last night to send me and my little brother away to the coast where it would be safe. Once there we were to learn life skills and trade skills. The vote was unanimous and so I’m getting packed to move once again.

August 05, 251
This was a surprise. I found my journal in a box I had lost over a year ago. Where should I begin? I started to learn alchemy. There’s another continent that was discovered a year ago I guess. Still no word from father but I’m sure he’s fine.

January 01, 256
It’s been five long years I’m getting pretty good at alchemy. I’m a man now. A lot has changed, for the worse of course. The May’kar is for a lack of a better term, destroyed. We are still blamed and ridiculed for betraying the Vandregon. Shortly after Aldoria closed its borders they were crushed from the inside out. No word if they made it out or not. The Vandregon split its forces to fight on two fronts and we received word a couple years ago that the southern army has fallen. The Watchdogs have linked back up with us at the coast, my father not with them. He fell in battle against the revenant king he sacrificed himself to save the rest. He left me his book on divine magic even though I never was much good at magic. There are only ten of us left. I’ve become far too busy so I’ve cut down my entries to once per year.

April 05, 257
The boats have slowed down I hear the truce has held between the colonists and these wolf people called ulven. As for the undead they are still advancing it’s still uncertain when they will get here.

June 05, 258
This is supposed to be the last boat to leave for the new colony I hope it’s better than what has happened here. If I can I want to devote my life to the work of science and understanding the world. Maybe this will be a fresh start, a new beginning, just like the town’s name: a new hope.

August 14, 262
I’ve set up a lab and I’ve begun work on a few pet projects. The paralysis agent is proving quite promising. Nothing more to report today.

June 12, 263
I over heard some talk about “corruption” up north. Could it be the same? How? Can I stop it before it gets worse? I need to research this; I can’t let this happen again. It’s the least I can do to make up for my peoples sins.

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Brodin Fizzlewick

PLAYED BY: Nate Tukiendorf
PLAYER: Facebook: Nathan Tukiendorf
CHARACTER NAME: Brodin Fizzelwick
GENDER: Male
CLASS: Mage
AGE: 43
RACE: Syndar
HAIR: Brown
EYES: Brown
OCCUPATION: Silversmith
KNOWN SKILLS: Knows how to read and write, silversmith.
BIRTHPLACE: Syndar Enclave in May’kar (The Phoenix)
APPEARANCE: 5’7″ average build, clean shaven. Thick dark hair, inquisitive eyes, thick eyebrows, broad nose.
NOTABLE TRAITS: Hard worker, trusting. Lighthearted around friends, a bit gullible.
RELATIONSHIPS: Travels with Marcus Clearbrook.

The sun slowly rose into the sky over New Hope, promising another warm spring day. Brodin Fizzelwick was already in the mists of setting up his small stall at the town square. With spring breaking the cold fist of winter, everyone was happy. Although there was a lot to do, and everyone did what they could to get a jump on the growing season. Food was in short supply, and everyone was feeling the pinch. However, spring promised a new beginning and everyone had a smile on their face despite the constant struggle.

Brodin finished placing his last show piece, when he noticed that a few children were running to and fro in the square. He turned his head to the right and saw another early riser busy setting up her shop, no more than two stalls down from his stand. From what he could deduce, she was seamstress, laying out many new tunics and trousers. She carefully folded every piece of clothing like they were very dear to her. That was a sign of a good craftsman. She herself was very beautiful, with long straight walnut hair, fine angular features, trim, confident and Syndar.
“This one is pretty. Can I have it?” said a voice out of Brodin’s vision.

Turning his head he saw no one, then he looked down and saw a little girl probably around 10 or 11 years of age. She had piercing blue eyes and was dressed in a simple brown tunic and hose with a large cloth hat on her head. She pointed a dirty little finger at a silver turtle broach that had green jeweled eyes. It was one of his most recent pieces and one that he was very proud of, he was hoping he could get a decent amount of coin for it. If anything, it would show his skill and possibly entice someone to ask about commissioning a custom piece.

“You have a very good eye. That is one of my favorite pieces. It took me a long time to make and I was hoping to make a good profit on it. Do you or your parents have a means to buy it?” Brodin said. Not wishing to turn away anyone, despite their age. Plus it was early and the square was still mostly empty, only a few other tradesmen started filing into the square.

“I don’t have much money, sir. Winter was hard, and all of my mother’s money went to buying food and linen.” The little girl said as she cast her eyes down to the cobblestone.

Feeling slightly sorry for the girl… but only slightly. Everyone was struggling and Brodin wasn’t going to get back to his island home without money. “What is your name?” he asked.

“Arie.” She said sheepishly.

Maybe he could get some information from this youth; they see many things are a more willing to give up information, if you dangle the metaphorical carrot in front of their face. “Well Arie, I have a deal for you. I am new to town and am looking to find a few things. If you can help me find these things I will sell the broach to you for a big discount.”

Arie’s eyes widen and then she looked to her left and bit her lower lip. “Ok, but can I ask you a question after you ask me a question?”
Cocking an eyebrow, Brodin realized this youth was both perceptive and inquisitive.

“Agree, I will go first. Would you happen to know when the next ship is to leave?”

Arie furrowed her brow and thought for a moment. “My friend Gregory, whose father told him, that many of the fishermen and captains are afraid to sail, because of a ghost ship in the fog. So I don’t know for sure.”

This news was distressful to Brodin, with every captain afraid to set sail. That means he is going to find very few captains brave enough to go, and if he does find one they are going to charge an exurbanite amount of money.

“Ok my turn!” Arie said as she smiled and jumped up and down eagerly. “Where are you from? Do you have a family? Are you planning on staying in New Hope?”

Brodin was slightly taken aback at the questions. But it couldn’t hurt, the questions seemed innocent enough.

“I was born in the May’kar dominion on Faedrun, which is really far away. My father was a candle maker and my mother was a silversmith. My father was killed by bandits as we left our village to find a ship to leave Faedrun. My mother passed away on the ship to Mardrun. I felt very alone at first, but the Enclave made me feel like I still had a family. I set up my home and shop on the island to the south of Mardrun. As to whether or not I am staying in New Hope, I’m not sure for how long. I am a on a quest for The Phoenix. I am trying to gather supplies and information, and then I guess we will see.” He said as images of his past came flying back, many good, some not so good. The early death of his parents ever fresh in his mind, he misses them so.

Brodin took a deep breath and pushed the painful memories aside and looked back at his youthful customer. Arie smiled and giggled as if Brodin said something silly. Then without another word she ran down the rows of stalls and through a growing number of people. Brodin shrugged it off as a lady in a red dress approached to browse his goods.

The morning and day progressed Brodin was able to sell a few items to a couple passing customers. He also was commissioned by a wealthy merchant to craft an ornate belt loop. The sun started it’s slow crawl into the western horizon, when he decided to close up shop and find his companion Marcus.

“Hello again!” Said a very familiar voice behind him. He turned to see Arie, standing there smiling, holding the hand of the seamstress he noticed earlier. The beautiful seamstress smiled and said “Siala Kay Nu. I hope my daughter here wasn’t bothering you earlier. I’m Myra Silvertongue. What is your name?”

Brodin stood there dumbfounded for a second. This beautiful Syndar lady stood before him and talked like a common human. He guessed that she was half Syndar, like himself. His mother insisted that he learn how to speak like a proper Syndar and retain as much of his Syndar heritage as possible. He however realized that it is essential to learn how to speak with human and Syndar alike. It helps with business. He was also chastising himself for not noticing that Arie was her daughter. Looking at the youth more he noticed that her features are fine like her mothers. But her piercing blue eyes must be her fathers.

“Siala Kay Nu Myra. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Brodin Fizzelwick. Your daughter was not a bother this morning; it was actually pleasant to talk to her.” He said as he slightly bowed.

“That is what she tells me.” She said as she looks down at her daughter fondly briefly before returning his gaze. “She also told me a bunch about you as well. Also that you made a deal for a broach that she was interested in. May I see it?”

Again he was slightly taken aback. She must have sent her daughter to learn what she could about the silversmith. This is the first time that a beautiful woman has taken an interest in him. He admired her forwardness, and she also sounded sincere. “Of course.” Brodin said as the rummaged through his pack to find the jeweled turtle. Finding it, he handed it to her. Myra’s green eyes slightly widened at the beauty of the piece.
“How much are you thinking selling it for?” Myra asked hesitantly.

Feeling bold and he knew that she probably didn’t have the money to pay for such a nice piece. “I was hoping for 5 silver coins, but I will also trade it to you for a new tunic and sharing a meal with me. How does that sound?”

“I would really enjoy tha…” She started saying.

“Brodin! You thin bastard! I have big news! I have a way for us to head out of New Hope tomorrow!” Marcus came running up and stopped as soon as he saw Myra. “Excuse me; I didn’t know you were talking with such a pretty lady.”

Myra put down the broach and looked down. “I didn’t know you were leaving so soon. It was nice meeting you.” She turned and started walking away.

“Wait!” Brodin called after her as he grabbed the broach and hurried around the front of this stall. He caught up with Myra and her daughter a few paces away. “Wait, Myra. Yes, it is true that I have a need to be away. I have a task that I must complete with The Phoenix. Please take this.” He said as he gave her the broach.

“I can’t take it, I don’t have the money.” She said feeling slightly ashamed.

“Please take it, and it comes with a promise that I will be back.” He said sincerely.

She looked in his eyes and saw that he was telling the truth. “I will hold you to that Brodin Fizzelwick.” A handful of heartbeats later, she broke his gaze and reached in her bag. “It still gets cold at night, take this.” She produced a new crimson tunic from her bag.

The tunic felt heavy, but also very soft in his hand. He looked at her eyes again, to see that she had tears in her eyes. “Thank you, I will cherish this gift and remember you every time I wear it.”

“Take care of yourself and come back safe” She said with a smile. Then she turned and walked away, slowly disappearing in the dwindling crowd.
Turning around he strode back to gather his pack in his stall. Marcus leaning against the support of the stall, his eyes alight with excitement. “Alright you son of whore, what has you all a flutter?” Brodin said rather annoyed with his human companion.

“Grab your gear and lets head back to our room, and I will tell you all about it. Let’s just say that I found my calling and I am sure you will approve.” Marcus said with enthusiasm. He then proceeded to talk about all the things they will need for the road. Brodin was only half listening as they walked down the street with the setting sun at their back. He managed a brief glance down the road that Myra and her daughter left. Made a quick prayer to Solar for his protection and continued down the road with his friend toward a new adventure.

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Pan

NAME: Pan
AGE: 20
RACE: Syndar-Feral
GENDER: Female
BIRTHDAY: June 24
RACIAL DISTINCTIONS: Moon Ears, horns of the ram, fangs
FAMILY
Mother: Maragrimm-Seer
Father: Vilmus-Warrior
Siblings: Aragel; Oldest Brother 1
Savira; Oldest Sister 2
Gisella; Older Sister 3
Herself; 4
Myrta; Youngest Sibling 5

We’ve been told of the hordes many a time. How they swept over the land, turning all those it touched into grotesque creatures of rot. Of the chains once binding freed by my ancestor. Oh do they talk so, of all the woes and infuriating desires that they wish us to hold. As my people of the mountain left for the sea, leaving our homes behind. For in the Mountains we came from the soil, and to the soil we had always returned. The birth of our essence came from those rocks that provided so much solace. Maragrimm talked so much.
Crawling over the land towards sea, we boarded the ships with the rest who called these lands home. I hardly remember pulling my small head above the raft to watch the Army of the Fifth walking out to battle again. My small arms could not hold me up long, the sight of them slipped from view as my horns smacked the wooden hull. Weeks passed by, the churning of the ocean made me sick, the water outside looked like a frightful plateau ready to drag me down by my little ankles. I’d never see the light of Solar again if the water had its way with me. We occupied ourselves, stole from the thoughts that we could be going nowhere. After more weeks passed, this fear was looked at as a reality, then the call came down. Land, sweet and real peeked the horizon, as the crimson light wisped away into blue, my favorite time of the day had just passed us by.
Lanterns lit all around us as we set anchor, it seemed celebration would be in order. The humans we were traveling with became more uplifted, yet Vilmus made us go below deck. The shouting continued a long while, I fell asleep to them curled up next to Myrta. Bells, clanging against one another, the bells seemed to be coming from all over, as sleepy eyes opened to the world we never knew. The wood hanging above our heads would finally be taken away, the brighter skies above us loomed like a misty plane. Maragrimm’s mood soured. The closer we came to shore, the more she seemed to be worrying. As the sight grew closer, Vilmus picked us up, one at a time to see better. Like a welcoming sight of the sun in a storm, people waved, some jumped up and down, arms waving to us from the other ships. The excitement seemed to be contagious, as Gisella and Savira danced in circles, even the stern Aragel was laughing with little Myrta.
Settling on this new land took its time, building up homes to sleep in, farms for food, and walls for security. When word reached our ears that others were fighting our new friends upon this land, Maragrimm had us prepare. I now understood why she had worried so, we could destroy our new home even more quickly here. As we settled in, she started to teach us. Gisella and Savira took naturally to Lunara’s healing abilities. As she taught, our magic slowly came out. I took to the arcane like a horse to water. But even the water froze as winter hit us.
One hundred and eighty five is the span she left upon this world. As we wept, the month went on, until the corruption returned. Her drum had ceased its tune, but her body moved, rot filling the air around her. Our curse had followed us, we feared it would take us from this land as well. Unable to turn my head, I watched Vilmus sever hers from her body. The flowered vines that had turned into crown toppled along with her head. Vilmus wept, her body wrapped in his arms, the brown of his armor staining a deep crimson.
The years left us by, Vilmus kept our small village together as we planted the ground anew. The Ulven wished us to burn our people instead of bury. The soil around us often kicked up ash as we walked, the essence of our lives didn’t return like it used to. We moved, our village followed, as winter months racked us til our bones cracked. We dreaded these areas. Our mountain home called us, even from so far away. The next summer brought new life, as Lunas deep light gave us a new hope. Passed on, I received a pendant of Luna, Maragrimm’s old one.
Time flew past us. Aragel grew older and he soon left us, to Myrtas despair. Having her little fist around his horn, she had tried to make him stay, but our older brother left us that night. We haven’t seen him since, yet our ears stayed open for tales of a spiral horned boy living in the wilds. As we convened once again, a decision arose. Vilmus was combining the tribe, our bloodline numbers had dwindled, but our brothers and sisters still existed. The Nomads Of Soon dispersed. Each caravan its own name and path, we spread over the safest parts of Mardrun.
Gisella lead the Caravan of Song.
Savira, the Caravan of Passion.
And little Myrta, the Caravan of Wisps.
We made our goodbyes and set up the rendezvous for summer’s end. Hawks and runners to spread word of the paths and perils ahead divvied up between us all. Only each caravan would know where the other was stopped.
Mine, we vanished into the countryside.

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Marrah Faile – [Renowned]

PLAYED BY: Kelly Pelot

CHARACTER NAME: Marrah Faile. (“ma-RAH fa-YEEL”)

GENDER: Female

CLASS: Rogue

AGE: 28

RACE: Syndar

HAIR: Awesome

EYES: Green

OCCUPATION: Merchant, Madam, Raven

KNOWN SKILLS: Buying, Selling, Trading, Lying, Stealing, Sneaking, Killing, Surviving

In the Year 251, 14 year old Marrah and her parents, one of the rare Syndar pairs who chose to be joined, were sent from the kingdom of Tielorrien to aid in the development of the new colonies. Her father was a skilled herbalist or Bellath-ah-Dien, and her mother a healer or Lethellerion. Marrah herself had only just begun her studies at The Rui-Calithil.
During the voyage to Mardrun a fire broke out on their ship. Though they were in site of land, the pull of the sinking ship made it almost impossible to escape. Marrah could hear her Mother’s cries as her Father desperately tried to reach her, but, despite his skills in casting, there was little to be done. Panicked refugees kept pulling each other under in their own struggles to reach the surface and her mother was soon lost in the chaos. For what seemed like an eternity Marrah floated there listening to her father scream her Mother’s name. Long after the burning ship had disappeared under the water she remained with him as he called for his wife.
In time, a small boat from Mardrun appeared and brought them to their new home. Her Father, once the pinnacle of Syndar stoicism, had to be forcibly removed from the water and held down in the boat to keep him from jumping back into the ocean.
She could feel the change in him almost immediately; it was as if something inside of him were dying. Day by day he grew weaker and weaker as though all of his strength had been tied up to her Mother and without her, it was gone. Other Syndar could sense it too. He stopped casting, stopped working, and stopped caring at all. In no time at all they began to whisper that he was hollowed. The whispers then turned to outright contempt. Her Father had not been hollowed. They all knew it. They had been there when he began to change. But instead of helping her find out how to fix the change, Marrah and her father were expelled from the community. The same worthless, ungrateful community that had cost her Mother her life.
A year of wondering followed at the end of which they found themselves near New Oarsmeet. It wasn’t a nice place but it was free of Syndar looking to run them off, so they stayed. Marrah had grown accustomed to caring for her father. She used what little of the hunting skills she’d learned at The Rui-Calithil to catch food when she could or to steal food or money when she had to. It was getting harder to care for him though. She hated being cast out by the others but she couldn’t deny the day-to-day horror of being with one who was dead on the inside. It wasn’t simply that the essence was gone. It was as if a black hole had opened inside of him and was desperately sucking the essence, warmth, and joy out of everything it came near. There were times her flesh crawled just being near him. She yearned to leave but the moment she resolved to do so the memories of her parents together, full of love and happiness, prevented her from seeing it through.
Then in 253 on the anniversary of her Mother’s death, Marrah’s Father was gone. All he left behind was a barely legible note saying, “She needs me. She’s alone”. Marrah stayed in New Oarsmeet a several more years, in case he returned, working on ships, doing odd jobs, and learning all the things a Syndar of her age should never be learning.
Eventually, stories of a Celestine opposed to traditions and intolerant of classism piqued her interest. If not for the tradition of shunning the hollowed, she would still be living amongst her own kind. Most likely a skilled hunter already. Instead she was in a corrupt and squalid little village doing things that would make her Mother weep in order to survive. Tradition had forced her into the unsavory life she now lived and she could not imagine a world in which one of the most favored of the Gods children would actively renounce his position of Glory.
It was an anomaly too unbelievable to be ignored and, though she still had several months of promised work left to do on her current ship, she felt it was time to seek a new port. The minute the ship docked for the evening, Marrah grabbed the pouch of coins she’d been stealing from the others and a small pack then left New Oarsmeet for good.
Marrah used her silver to purchase and setup a small shop. Regarding every patron as an opportunity to find out more about the strange Celestine. In time her dogged interest, and her unconventional skill set caught the attention of the Ravens and she was eventually invited to join with them. An offer she was more than happy to accept.
Marrah’s main place of business is New Hope but she has recently begun traveling, looking to set up small shops in other towns in order to generate further income and also to provide a safe haven/meeting place for any Ravens in the area. Since joining the Ravens her tiny shop has expanded exponentially and is now a full blown market stop, pub, and brothel.