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Played By: Nathan Tukiendorf

Character Name: Drex Blackstone

Gender: Male

Class: Rogue

Age: 28

Race: Human

Hair: Brown

Eyes: Green

Occupation: Bounty Hunter, Mercenary, Hunter, Survivalist. A Bounty Hunter with his own sense of justice, with a side job as a mercenary.

Known Skills: Skilled Swordsman, Adequate Archer, Excellent detective skills (good at finding people/objects)

Birthplace: Port city of Aldoria.

Appearance: Dark clothing, Composed, Shaven or sometimes with a small beard, observant.

Notable Traits: Piecing Green eyes, Quiet, Inquisitive, Excellent listener. Dark clothes/ looks Dashing

Relationships: Was the son of a wealthy merchant in the port city of New Aldoria, Former son of Sir Helmsworth from Aldoria. Used to own a Shipping Company. Age 16 was married, killed a person in duel, then divorce two months later resulting in the “Helmsworth Scandal.” Investigated, released and lost inheritance, went searching for the truth of what really happened. Found out and went searching for my former wife. Spent years wandering Mardrun. Changed name. Lost the naive, spoiled child persona and developed a sense of justice for finding villains that would ruin the lives of other people. While handing them over to the authorities and getting paid. Hoping to find my cunning, former wife.

Rumor: Fallen Merchant. The result of winning a duel. A few whispers say the reason for the duel was because of a woman, and she took every penny he had after he was jailed. As soon I was released, I left New Aldoria. Drexel Helmsworth was not seen as for 12 years. Drex Baern, the Bounty hunter, has been around for 6 years.

Prologue

In Crows Landing on a late spring afternoon. A man in a dark hat and clothing was standing in front of an inn looking at the wanted posters and bounties. It seemed, I was standing there for an awfully long time looking at the bills, because when I noticed it was suddenly dark. Dam! Can’t decide whether to go with a regular job or join up in the Stormjarl and Prince’s Contract.

I was about to go get a drink to think on it, when I saw two guards coming down the street with what looks like new posters. I waited there a few more moments to see what was going up on the board. The older guard saw me and gave the posters to the younger guard, telling him to hang them up on the board. As soon as he made sure the young guard doing his job, he went towards me. He looks familiar.

“Hello Drex, been a few years. How’s business?” asked the old guard. Now I remembered him. I handed him a few bandits when I was here a few years ago.

“ Business has been good Waylen, though not as good as I would like. I was thinking about the Contract up North, when I saw you coming down the street, and decided to wait to see what you post on the board.” I responded.

“ Besides the Summer Market on Fire Isle this year, a fifteen silver bounty for a murder and burglary at Lady Awen’s home.”said Waylen.

“Lady Awen’s home?!” I asked “Was it the Master Awen that owned a shop and a boat, that was murdered?”

“The same.” he answered. “It was a three man job. They broke in late one night while the lady and the children were visiting relatives. They picked their way in and crushed his head, while he was reading in his lounge room. They knocked out the maid, tied her up and stole into the night with the goods.”

“ When did this happened?” I asked

“ About 5 days ago. Family is still in mourning.”

“ Is the maid still here?”

“No, she left about two days after the crime. She says that she blames herself, and decided to look for employment elsewhere. Family were sad to see her go, except for her ladyship. Lady Awen had numerous good maids before this one, but for some reason she had a hard time with the last maid.” Waylen answered.

“How long was the maid there?”

“ Barely four months.”

“ Waylen, my friend. You were right that it was a three man job. However, it was two that got in and one was already in the house. Did Master Awen’s lounge room have one entrance and did his chair face the door or away?”

Waylen’s eyes bulged at this new information. He responded “Yes, and toward the door next to the fireplace.”

“ I’m sorry to say sir, but the maid did it.” I said “ She let them in. Master Awen would have seen them come in, once they entered his lounge. There would be no way they could get behind him without him noticing them. He would have put up a fight and a struggle. Was there a struggle in the lounge?”

“No.” he said with a sigh.

I responded with “ Master Awen knew his killer, but did not suspect foul play.” As I finished that sentence, I saw Waylen’s guilty face, as realization dawned upon him. The weight hit him like a cart of bricks. He let the maid go, as if he helped with the murderer itself. I felt a little guilty so I threw him a bargain.

“Look Waylen, I’ll help you out. I’ll take on the bounty, but I will go after the woman first. Can you give me a general description?”

His face changed rapidly from depressed to one of hope. Hope was shining on face when he asked “Why the maid?”

“Because she is the real prize for the other criminals. In order to keep the money flowing into the pockets. She gets into the rich homes as a maid and sets up the crime. I wouldn’t be surprised if she is actually in charge of this group. Plus, did the Lady send her off with a recommendation for other employment?”

“Blimey, Drex! Your mind is sharp. I’m not sure if Lady Awen did give a recommendation to the maid. We can go see her before dinner and you can ask her what you need to know. Shall we?”

“Ha! After you Sir Waylen. So, what does this maid look? Old? Young?” I asked

“She has the face that still looks young, but she was approaching her 30th summer. Her height was about to my chin, about five ft six inches. She did turn heads with her long, curly red hair and steely gaze of hazel. She also had a nasty scar on her left hand.”

As Waylen was describing this mastermind, I listened intently. As he continued with the description, I began to get a nasty chill and my steps became slower. When he described the scar on her hand, I stopped as I felt my stomach drop. No, it can’t be her. Could it? I thought to myself. I must have looked shocked and staring off into the distance, for Waylen stopped ten steps ahead of me, turned, and asked me “You okay Drex?”

I focused on Waylen’s face.“Waylen. Did this maid have a demeanor of someone with noble birth, arrogance, if you will? And did she have a way of capturing an audience, as if the people were under a spell?”

Waylen flinched at the sound of my voice. I must have sounded angry and I was. I took a deep breath to control my building fury and waited for an answer.

With a slight tremble in Waylen’s voice he answered “ Now that you mentioned it. She did act like she was better than everyone else, but she didn’t have that behavior with the Awen Family. She seemed nice in their presence. As far as spell casting, we didn’t see any channeling of mana, but when she was talking to a crowd, they did seemed enthralled with her words. Do you know this woman Drex?”

Fuck! It was her. After all these years she finally surfaced. Must have run out of money. I must make sure it was her and talk to Lady Awen. I reached from my former life as Lord Drexel Helmsworth and I brought forward a commanding voice and directed it at Walyen.“Waylen, take me to Lady Awen immediately!!”

He saluted and for a moment wondered why he did that. He asked with a perplex look “Drex! Whats going on? Why do we need to the hurry?”

I began striding forward. Closing the gap and moving past Waylen, not waiting for him to catch up. He caught up with me and matched my speed. I explained my thoughts to him. “Speed is necessary, if I want to catch up to her. She has a three day head start. If she is who I think she is, multiple people are endangered, including their families. I wouldn’t doubt her partners will not see any of their profits when they’re done. For she will not stop until she has quite the sum of money to tie her over for years. Like she did before. Twelve years ago.”Waylen paled at the last statement. He immediately moved a step ahead to lead me toward Lady Awen’s home.

Lady Awen confirmed my suspicions. She described the person I knew to exact detail. She did give the maid a recommendation to a rival merchant of her previous husband’s business at New Aldoria. I shared my thoughts to Lady Awen about her previous maid. She paled, but didn’t look surprised. I think she knew something was wrong, but she couldn’t prove anything. She sent the maid to a rival instead of a friend. Smart woman!

We left after an hour of questioning. As I was walking out the door, Lady Awen told me to do my best and that my reward will be waiting for me when I returned. I asked “How do you know I will succeed?”

She responded “The look in your eyes tells me you would stop at nothing to catch this monster. For I can see she has done terrible things to you as well, sir. I wish you a safe journey.”

Waylen and I walked back toward the Inn. I took the bounty poster off the board and asked him to change it to add the woman. He took it back towards his building while I got some supplies for the journey. He returned an hour later with two copies, one for the board and one for me. I was grateful and bought him a few drinks before I left. As I was walking out, he put his hand on my shoulder and asked “Who is this woman to you Drex? You make it sound like she is a devil in disguise. What happened?”

I looked at him and thought about telling him, but decided against it. I did not want to get into my past, plus I was far behind by three and half days. So I told him this, with a grin. “Waylen I hope to see you soon. I’m off to go capture my former wife.”

Character Name: Dom DiSaaro
Played By: Bailey Hellerud
Race: Human
Class: Cleric
Born: December 27th, 238
Rumors: Hates the name Dominic

The Order has always been my life. I was young when I joined, younger than most of the other children in the keep. Growing up in the shadow of the Lions, I hoped to emulate them and someday join them, though I was always smaller than my colleagues as a child. I worked hard and took any task or chore offered to me, hoping that they would make me bigger and stronger. Though I had to work harder to match the other boys physically, I was able to surpass many of them mentally, devoting what time I had left to learning. A scribe worked to teach me the High Aldorian language so I could help her translate the Tomes and spread the word of the Path.
When I was sixteen, I joined the Lay Militia, eager to prove myself to the officers and Lions overseeing my unit. A few months after training, I was sent as part of an escort for a number of Griffons to meet with Baron Richards in Newhope to discuss his investments into Starkhaven. We were given leave to explore the colony during the meeting, and I found myself in a small park. I saw a young girl, likely not much older than ten. She looked upset with three boys, younger than me but still far larger than her, who seemed to be mocking her relentlessly. I strode past the three boys and crouched down next to the girl, ignoring the boys completely. “Hey. Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” The girl shook her head. “That’s good. What’s your name?”
“Rossignol. But no one can say it right, so I just go by Rose.”
“Well, Rossignol, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Dom. It’s short for Dominic, but I don’t really like that, so I just go by Dom.” I was stopped suddenly by a hand grabbing my shoulder. The bullies were upset that I had ignored them, and wanted my attention. All they got was a finger raised, telling them to wait. “See, Rossignol, do you know why these brutes are picking on you?”
“Because they’re mean and I’m small?”
“It’s because they’re scared. They know that someday soon, someone bigger, or stronger, or smarter, or just better than them is going to come along, and when that happens, they won’t have power over anyone else ever again. They’re cowards.” I felt a hand on my shoulder again. “One moment, Rose.” I stood and turned to face the boy who was grabbing me. “Thanks for waiting. Now, what ca-“ I was sent reeling by a fist in my jaw. The other two caught me and kept me from moving as the first went to work on my ribs.
“Cowards, huh?” He spat at me through gritted teeth. “I’ll show you who’s a coward!”. It seemed like hours before they finally let me go, though really it was probably only a minute or two. Bruises on my face, chest, and stomach had already begun to form, and all I wanted was to lay there. I saw Rossignol staring at me, almost inspecting me from a distance, and I willed myself to my feet, despite my body’s many protests.
“Dominic, you look bad. You should lie down.”
“What, this? No, I’m fine,” I managed somewhat weakly, sure that I wasn’t convincing anybody of that claim. “That’ll show them. I had them on the run. I had them right where I wanted them…Yeah, I’m going to sit down now.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, thank you.”

Rossignol and I parted ways after that, but I made sure to keep writing to her. She was a smart child, smarter than most I had met, but always more than a little awkward around the other kids. She always got excited when she made a new friend, and I was happy to see those letters, though they would invariably be followed shortly thereafter by another one explaining why the former friend was stupid and no longer worthy of her time. I made sure to visit her any time I was in Newhope, and soon she became like a younger sister to me.
As I worked my way through the ranks of the militia, I continued to write to Rose. I would volunteer for any missions to Newhope, and try to meet up with her, even just for a meal. I wrote to her every week, and she would always respond just as quickly. My Aldorian grew rusty in Starkhaven, with fewer people continuing to uphold and learn the language, but our letters gave me some practice here and there. A few other members would tease me when I got the letters, but I just brushed off their comments.
This went on for four years, writing letters and visiting when I could, training and drilling during the day, studying scripture at night, until I was finally allowed to petition to join the Lions. I dove headfirst into my duty, ignoring the outside world completely, and emerged on the other side in the Light of Arnath, accepted and welcomed into the ranks of the Lions. I was busy with my new duties now, preaching, training new recruits, learning more about the divine magic I would need to call upon, and I stopped writing.
I continued to preach the word of Arnath since that day, using my faith to serve as a beacon, guiding the lost back to the Path. My work with the Order of Arnath’s Fist has led me to a number of great deeds, and I have been blessed to touch so many lives, but it was when I was first introduced to the new chapter, the Order of Light and their more progressive, diplomatic ways that I first saw my true calling. I joined with them, eager to show the world that the Lions of Arnath are not just warriors, that we are not all the prejudiced descendants of those who came before us. Arnath is a lion, but he is also a Shepherd, and we are the hounds who watch over his flock.

Name: Roains
Player: Aaron Pfeffer
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Occupation: Mercenary
Religion: Unknown
Bio:
Many townspeople funnel down a set of stairs onto heading towards a small dock where several large boats are moored. A soldier at the end of the docks is waving and shouting. “Please move quickly onto the boats. There is room for everyone so there is no need to push.” He continues to show people to the boats and after a while there are no townsfolk left. Another soldier runs up from the boats “Sergeant. All the towns people are on the boats.” The sergeant turns “Good. We must wait for Commander Nikiri and the rest of the men. Go back to the boats and keep everyone calm.” “Right away.” The soldier runs back to the boats and the sergeant waits at the edge of the docks looking up towards the front gate. The rain is falling hard drowning out almost all noise yet you can hear the faint sounds of battle in the distance.
Several minuets pass and then he sees movement in the distance. As it gets closer he sees that it’s the men that where fighting at the gate. “This way quickly. We must board the boats quickly.” The large number of soldiers run past. A few soldiers being helped or carried by others. As the last man passes the sergeant turns and quickly follows.
As he steps onto the boat the lines are cut and the boat is pushed away from the docks. As the wind catches the sails the boat is pulled out to sea. He turns and looks to the small town for one last time as he see’s undead poring through the gate and sweeping over the town like a flood. He watches for a moment then turns away and goes below decks to rest. Several weeks past as they sailed. No one knew how long they have been sailing. They managed to stay fed with what supplies they had on board as well as what they managed to catch. They encountered a few minor squalls but nothing to major as the small fleet sailed.
One night he is suddenly woken up by getting tossed to the ground by the ships rocking. As he gets his bearings he notices the boat being thrown from side to side and the sound of wind howling. Rain and waves pounding the deck. He quickly gets up and works his way the top deck where men are scrambling to get control of the sail that has broken lose from the wind. As men clamber about getting tossed around with the boat he tries to work his way to a group of men that are trying to tie down one of the ropes for the sail. He rushes over to assist but as he passes the mast a large wave comes over the rail and crashes onto the deck. He gets swept up and smashed into the mast getting knocked unconscious and thrown overboard.
He then slowly begins to wake up. As he opens his eye’s he finds himself floating on a large board just off shore of unknown shores. He gathers what strength he has left and swims to shore. As he gets onto the beach he lays there for a while and then passes out. He awakes to an unfamiliar room. The house belonged to a small family that took him in and started to nurse his wounds.
Several months later he has left the town and the family that helped him. He is now traveling with a group to help them rebuild a village as a wood cutter. Armed only with an axe he felt pitifully armed and protected compared to what he was used to. As time passed on his trip be came into contact with a Feral Syndar named Pan. A while after they reached the village He was tasked with watching over the fire and to keep it going. He was in the process of thinking as to what he should do next after the village is built. He did not belong with these townspeople. Then Pan sat by the fire and they talked a bit. She asked if he would care to join them and he saw it as the opportunity he needed to get back to what he was good at and get away from the life of a simple wood cutter. Shortly after the town was secured he left with them to a city where he was able to have a blacksmith make him the equipment he needed.
Now armed with a good sword and protected with fine armor that he was used to he felt like his old self and felt he had a purpose again. He shall continue to search for the others with every chance he gets but he shall continue to follow the new path he has found.

Name: (Uncle) Ishvan Vladoff
Birth place: (cold barren location on old continent)
Age: 23
Race: Human
Traits of note: Cheery disposition with morbid humor
Slavic or Russian accent
Blunt and loud

Backstory:

Ishvan was born the youngest of 8 children. Ishvan’s large family has gifted him with 24 nieces and nephews, and being that he is part of such a large family and village many of the names known to them have been reused. This lead to a person’s title, position, or family relation being used like a first name followed by the persons actual name. Thus he introduces himself as Uncle Ishvan. As the youngest he was often charged with the protection of his nieces and nephews, such as it was while the village was attacked by undead. While he was first told to use a shield to protect them, there he found that he was frequently pressed by the undead and needed assistance. Upon a whim, he grabbed a great sword to bat away the foes. There he found power to drive his foes back with the strength of his arms. From there he focused on building his body and yearned for more power. During this time the village held strong against the occasional wave due to village’s sense of community. Unfortunately the undead were relentless, enough so to force his family to travel to the new continent to escape to safety. The people on Mardrun were not like the village he had left behind, and for several years he stood out in Newhope as a form of outsider. Eventually, he started to look for work and decided to help a caravan go through a forsaken swamp of sorts. There he started to see the struggles on this continent as well with these creature called Mordok. There he bonded the crimson shades and saw the strength of their community of arms. He also witnessed firsthand the phenomenon known as Witch Magic, with casters seamlessly blending together both divine and arcane magic as though they were the same thing. The spectacle awed and humbled him, leaving thoughts as to what power lays within magic itself.

PLAYER NAME: Zack Alesch

GENDER: Male
PRONOUNS: He/him

CLASS: Rogue
AGE: Old enough to know better

RACE: Human
OCCUPATION: Troubadour

APPEARANCE: Swash-buckling jester, spindly fella. Often paints his nose red.
KNOWN SKILLS: Whatever randomly makes for the best story at that exact moment (though mostly music-playing and storytelling)

BIRTHPLACE: Aldoria

Ye lords and ladies gathered here today,
this story is quite long and full of fire.
Some details will be tweaked to save on time
But still I swear these things did all transpire.

Though parted from the land where I was born,
My childhood home still bore its galant name.
That lively town is where I learned the ropes:
In New Aldoria I made my fame.

My parents wanted me to learn to count
But coins we lacked to pay the tutor’s fee.
And since I seemed to jabber all the time,
Twas with fine songs and stories they raised me.

We shall skip past the romance of my youth,
Though tragedy and laughter did abound.
Instead, I shall reveal why I did leave
To seek great tales whilst traveling around.

Mayhaps you have seen me brandish a blade,
A sabre with great tales of its own.
Twas granted to me on a stormy night,
Its former owner seeking to atone.

“I tire of killing, burning, taking coin”
Did sob the weary captain on that night.
“With sword in hand, I’ve done so many wrongs;
Won’t some soul take this blade to use for right?”

I paused my tune, much to the crowd’s chagrin.
“Your name is feared, oh sinker of the ships,
But if you speak in truth your dying wish,
This quest I shall accept ere your life slips”

His withered hand and bold eyes gripped me fierce.
Said he, “You are a fool in many ways,
But brave to take this old man at his word.
My sword is yours, to use for better days”

And so, my quest is set, the road is long,
To spread the songs and joy that make life true,
To wield a blade that stories call “Knightstar”,
Now I just need to learn to swing it too.

Name: Harkov

Played By: Cole Potter

Age: Ask

Race: Human

Class: Cleric

Harkov was three when his family made their way across the sea from Faedrun to Mardrun. Their family barely scraped their way onto one of the boats. It cost them most of his parents combined wealth and a few favors from his father’s time in the Vandregonian army. His father is a tradesman and his mother a healer. They lived a modest but comfortable living for the first eighteen years of his life on Mardrun. When Harkov was thirteen his parents divorced. His family was the near perfect family before that, it wasn’t entirely shocking to Harkov though. His brother didn’t handle their parents divorce well. He was emotional and it was clear why, Harkov on the other hand was different. On the outside he, in what was simple to him rationalized that his parents were free people and had the right to make their own choices. They had raised him to be independant and he knew he wouldn’t lose contact with either of his parents so he showed no worry. On the inside he didn’t feel anything, he didn’t care. Harkov was too busy focusing on himself to let his parents lives and actions affect him. Harkov received a good education from a fairly large school in Newhope. He was a good student but found himself tiring of the everyday studies and repetition of life in the colony more so than his peers. By all expectations Harkov was a normal boy and should’ve fit in well with his peers during his days of schooling. The opposite was true. Harkov always felt distanced from his peers, sure he had friends. But only when he was at his school. In everything he did Harkov felt like he was treated as if he was something less than human. No matter what he tried Harkov was always an outsider, it didn’t matter how much he wanted to be accepted. Harkov’s isolation drew him to the stories of glory so many young men find themselves encaptured in. He often planned his future around following his father’s footsteps and joining the ranks of the new Vandregonian army. Funny considering he had never been in a real fight. His martial prowess was hardly doubted though seeing as his often aggressive demeanor and determination in athletics gave a glance into his abilities.

Because of his peers Harkov grew bitter and antisocial, fearing having to deal with people while still wanting to be accepted. He slowly disconnected from the few friends he had, and fell into what could only be described as darkness. His attitude changing from one of eagerness and childish joy to hatred and cynicism. Harkov was lifted from his “darkness” when he became friends with a girl when he was fifteen. Harkov had known of her but she had never really knew he existed so they hadn’t interacted before they began being placed in lessons together. They had similar opinions on many things and his cynical tendencies were often found humourous, their friendship blossomed quickly. She pulled him from his self-centered existence. Eventually his feelings turned from simple friendship to more, some could say he loved her but the idea wouldn’t be put to the test for a long while as she was interested in other suitors, for years Harkov continued on like he had, spiraling in and out of his own dark place.

As Harkov grew older though he slowly gained more confidence as he grew stronger. He used his strength as a source of hope, it was often fleeting at best. Harkov was never the fastest or the strongest but he thought that any improvement from the boy he was was an achievement. As he reached his eighteenth year a small group of his peers went on what could be called a “tour” of several human settlements and colonies outside of Newhope in an attempt to begin giving the next generation some experience of their new world. Harkov went and so did the subject of his affections. The two were inseparable, their peers questioned whether or not the two were lovers and to the strangers they came across in their journey almost certainly thought they were. However no matter how far things escalated between the two it didn’t change anything and when they returned home to Newhope they remained as they had for years only now Harkov new the greatest pain from heartbreak he had ever felt.

However, while on their tour the group stopped in Starkhaven and Harkov stole away to explore and while he marvelled at the mighty keep and surrounding settlement of what was supposedly a new chapter of the famous Order Of Arnath he encountered a man named Brother Ventaris. Harkov was amazed by the man, he was everything he had heard from the stories of the Lions, clad in full plate with a large tower shield and a hammer both bearing the image of a rampant lion upon them. Harkov approached the Lion with an enthusiasm he hadn’t felt in years, to the Lion he must’ve seemed like a child rather than a young man. Brother Ventaris greeted Harkov’s enthusiasm and questions with a surprising amount of what could be described as welcoming. Briefly explaining the basic tenants of Arnath’s Path. From what he gleaned from Brother Ventaris’ explanation appealed to Harkov far more so than the teachings of The Light as he was taught when he was younger. Brother Ventaris must have appreciated Harkov’s eagerness or sensed something in the young man he himself could not, for he invited the boy to come participate in some training being conducted shortly, Harkov’s admiration for the man was prevalent and Harkov happily accepted the invitation hoping to prove himself, It was little more than basic physical training with a small group of initiates but in Harkov’s mind it was grand and exciting. Returning to his group after giving his thanks to his new found friends for their inclusion of him Harkov had what he saw as a fantastic life experience. After his return to Newhope, Harkov began to grow stagnant his wondrous journey mired by his heartache and disappointment at life after his schooling was over. His life devoid of purpose he worked as a laborer to begin his life as a young man, but this wasn’t enough for him. His original path of the army seemed pointless after the once prominent colors of red and gray fell into simple subsistence.

Then on a stormy night as thunder and lightning boomed and crackled outside his window, Harkov remembered his admiration for the men and women of The Order and found renewed purpose in the idea of becoming one of them. The weeks after that were filled with preparation for his journey. Before gathering supplies he reached out to his acquaintance Brother Ventaris and inquired as to whether or not he should join. Harkov received an encouraging letter from a Griffin named Brother Oliver shortly after stating that The Order was always looking for aspiring individuals. Harkov needing no further affirmations left for Starkhaven a few days later. Upon arriving he was thrown into a training class with the Lay Militia and learned the basics of proper combat making swift friends with a man named Basil who helped train the militia. Harkov took to the study of battle quickly and his true martial prowess was realized at an astonishing rate. Throught his training Harkov would notice Brother Ventaris conversing with Basil and other members of the Order of Arnath’s Light whilst observing his class training. Harkov simply took it as the leadership attempting to draw the best from their men by being an active presence.

He was mistaken though for a few weeks after Harkov had begun his training he was approached by Brother Ventaris and a stranger who turned out to be Brother Oliver. The two informed Harkov that they sensed a potential in him to be not just a regular soldier, but an ordained cleric of Arnath. Harkov was shocked, never having felt a strong connection to any faith he thought he simply did not have the potential to harness the powers of the divine. His role models convinced him otherwise and encouraged him to seek out the Path Of Arnath and to reach his full potential. A few days later Harkov was accepted as an initiate into the Ecclesiastical Order.

Harkov now trains under the diligent eyes of the senior members of The Order Of Arnath’s Light hoping to bring honor to himself and his order. A very wavering personality, Harkov is often caught between ebbs and flows of happiness and anger, at times skeptical at other times friendly. Harkov is an easy individual to read and seems to still carry a slight naivety about him while at the same time a wisdom beyond his years. Truly a man of contradictions he is devout in his faith, pursuit of honor, and his higher calling and will stubbornly protect what he cares about with little or no care for his own well being.

Rossignol

Played by: Samantha Vold

Occupation: Dominus of the Natural Sciences (of the Ravens)

“Edmuir! I have the solution to your aching tooth!” Rossignol cried as she burst eagerly through the door.

Edmuir looked up from the chainmail he was repairing, “Rose, I don’t trust you and your crazy ideas. You know that.”

“Just because the dragon thing didn’t work out, doesn’t mean all my ideas are idiotic,” Rossignol replied defensively.

“I have yet to see a brilliant idea come out of that supposedly brilliant brain of yours,” Edmuir retorted.

“Hey. You agreed to always support me and tell me how great I am,” Rossignol snapped back.

“I am supporting you. I’m giving you a dose of reality. Your “science” ideas aren’t working out,” Edmuir replied.

“No. Being supportive means you go along with my crazy ideas. And I’m just trying to help you! But you obviously don’t want it….” Rossignol replied.

Edmuir sighed, “Fine. I’ll at least let you tell me about your crazy idea.”

“Huzzah!” Rossignol exclaimed excitedly. “Well. First, I found this plant that if you chew on it for about 15 minutes, it should numb your mouth. The whole thing.”

“Can you confirm this?” Edmuir asked.

“Yes. I tried it on myself earlier. Now. After your mouth is numb, I’ll brace it open with this.” Rossignol held up a small metal rod. “Then I’ll scrape around your tooth, exposing the bottom of it. When I feel I’ve accomplished that, I’ll pull it out with a pliers! By the way, I’ll need to borrow your pliers….”

Edmuir walked across the room to Rossignol and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’ve gone mad, dear. I’m not going to let you do that.”

“But! Doesn’t your tooth hurt? I can fix it! And I have an abundance of this plant to keep the pain away while the tooth completely heals.”

“Have you tried this before?”

“Um. On a dog. But it didn’t work out very well because the dog kept wiggling…You can be my first real test subject!”

“You almost killed me the last time I agreed to be your test subject.”

“Only almost! You’re not dead! You’re here talking to me! I won’t kill you this time!” Rossignol indignantly exclaimed.

Edmuir sighed, “I can’t let you do it, dear. I don’t trust your idea.”

Rossignol looked at him sadly, “It’s okay. I understand. I’m a bad scientist…” She pouted.

Edmuir kissed the top of her head, “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying you should stick to what your mentor taught you and study to be a better herbalist. You’ve been doing well with that so far.”

“But! That gets boring! I want to try new things!” Rossignol pouted.

“Then try new things. Just new things that don’t involve pulling my tooth out,” Edmuir replied.

Rossignol sighed, “Fine. It’s okay. I understand you don’t love me and don’t want to help me become a better scientist.”

Edmuir rolled his eyes at Rossignol, “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“I knew it!” Rossignol exclaimed.

Edmuir kissed the top of her head again and hugged her to him. Rossignol buried her face in his chest, then quickly reached up and snapped her hand at the side of his neck. Edmuir dropped to the floor, unconscious.

“Holy shit! I didn’t think that would work!” Rossignol exclaimed.

She dragged him over to a chair and strapped his arms and feet down with some leather straps she kept in her bag. Then she stuck a couple leaves of the plant she found into Edmuir’s mouth and manually helped him chew, opening and closing his jaw. Once satisfied that he’d be alright, she propped his jaw open with the metal rod. Edmuir stirred a bit, but she gave him another quick smack on the neck and he was out again. She then grabbed her chisel and the pliers and began to work. Once the tooth was pulled, she wadded some gauze in the back of his mouth to quell the bleeding and sat on the floor, staring at Edmuir until he woke up.

“R-Rose…what did you do?” He mumbled through a numbed mouth, still groggy from unconsciousness. “Why does my mouth feel funny?”

Proudly, Rossignol held up Edmuir’s tooth. “I fixed it!”

Startled, Edmuir pulled at his restraints. “You little shit,” he mumbled.

Rossignol smiled, “But I helped!”

Edmuir glared at her as she got up and walked over to him.

“Promise you won’t strangle me if I undo the straps?” she asked.

Edmuir glared at her again, “I don’t know…”

“Give it a couple of days? If it doesn’t feel better, then you can strangle me?”

Edmuir sighed, “Fine.”

“Great!” Rossignol undid his straps and held out a couple more leaves, “You may want to at least suck on these for a bit, chew them if you can. It’ll help with the pain.”

Edmuir took the leaves and did as he was told. Then got out of the chair and laid on the floor, head still feeling weird after waking up. Rossignol bent down to kiss his forehead, and Edmuir spit a gob of bloody leaf chunks in her face.

“Really? This is the thanks I get? You’re disgusting!”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the only thanks you deserve,” Edmuir replied. “You knocked me out and pulled out a tooth without my consent.”

“I guess that’s kind of fair. But I’m still keeping the tooth!” Rossignol cried as she ran out the door with her new prize to add to her collection of oddities.

Edmuir sighed and smiled, “That is a whole lot of crazy in a tiny little package.”

PLAYED BY: Juilan Boehm

CHARACTER NAME: Moe Sphere

GENDER: Male

CLASS: Rogue

AGE: Mid 20s

RACE: Human

HAIR: Brown

OCCUPATION: Brewer

KNOWN SKILLS: Alchemy and Herbalist

RELATIONSHIPS: Member of the Nomads.

RUMORS: “do you think he’ll burn his eyebrows off again?” “Who cares. He makes the best apple pie this side of the world.” Over heard around the campfires of the Nomads.

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:

Moe was an apprentice brew-master back on Faedrun. Given more time he would have become Faedrun’s best as his brews were enjoyed heavily among the Aldorian nobles. Learning to transfer his brew master skills into that of an alchemist his trade took off even further. As a few years passed he had become better than those he learned from, moving on to newer and better towns he eventually opened a Tavern all his own. The Pie House, named after his signature brew the business flourished and he hired on help quite steadily. Yet he still kept the entire brewing process all to himself, although people asked him many a time he kept quiet, often telling tall tales about how he plucked a chicken for a single feather to mix the entire batch.

When word of the undead within the city reached them, he wrote it off as drunken rabble, the man tumbled head first through his door and onto the floor. Voice cracking, wheezing with hiccups he babbled about the hordes as they struck down towns not too far from there. Handing the man a bottle of brew and a silver piece he guided the gent to the door and let him out. Laughter peeling across the tavern as people jested with each other, ridiculing the man as they presumed he ran on to tell his tale once more. Undead had never been able to breach this far into the city, they had taken care of them and only the outter lying towns need fear.

Staying late that night he tended to his brew, the great barrels stated the back of the storage hall were hauled up front to Make room for his next batch. The groans were soft as scuffles echoed in from outside, his wheelbarrow full he iced the door open to find himself staring into dead eyes. The monster let out a scattering screech as it lunged for him, eyes wide with hunger it’s call made more turn. Shoving the wheelbarrow at it he turned for the rear entrance. Shuffling multiplied behind him, soon a shatter of glass rang in his ears. Turning his head he could barely see the fire from his overturned lantern, licking at the barrels of brew like a desperate drunkard.

His heart pounded as he ran faster, throwing open the door and bashing the lock closed. Unable to contain his horror any longer he screamed, as lights appeared so did more of the horde. Panic ensued as people ran from their homes and into the thing. It turned into a bloodbath, the central square awash with the thudding of feet and groans of monsters.

A loud boom roared from behind him, as the brewery went up in flames. Undead poured from the now broken door, fire coating their bodies as they walked into pandemonium. The fire spread as people ran for the woods, neighboring villages, for safety. His legs started moving, arms pumping, lungs burned as his instincts took him far away. Dodging around bodies, lunging undead, to the dark safety of the forest.

Unwilling to stay any longer, he boarded the boats a week later. Arriving on Mardrun, he took to his old ways brewing and running tavern. But finding consistent customers was not as easy as it used to be. He turned to travel, both to gather more clientele, and to ease his troubled mind.

CHARACTER BIO: Basil Gavras

PLAYED BY: Andrez “Peanut” Beltran

GENDER: Male

CLASS: Cleric

AGE: Early Thirties

RACE: Human

HAIR: I wish (black)

EYES: Brown

OCCUPATION: Militia member of the Order of Arnath’s Light

KNOWN SKILLS: Hit things with stuff. Teach people to hit things with stuff. Good strategist and tactician; loud voice that sometimes stays on key

BIRTHPLACE: Unknown. His mother was refugee during the War on Faedrun. Eventually settled near Celestial Mountains and the Order Fortress

APPEARANCE: Short; dark skinned; handsome beyond reason.

NOTABLE TRAITS: Darker skin than most on Mardrun. Ancestry may be closer to warmer climates. Also bald.

RELATIONSHIPS: Follower of Order of Arnath’s Light. Respects the Clerics as he grew up hearing tales of their heroics and exploits. Respects the Vandregonians for their part in the destruction of the May’Kar Dominion. Dislikes Bos Mezar as they are affiliated with May’Kar.. Doesn’t trust Ulven leadership due to Civil War; not xenophobic due to his time as a refugee

RUMORS: Tries a bit too hard to act like an Order Cleric even though he isn’t.

BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:

Basil is a young man in his early thirties. Born in the mid 230’s, his mother was a refugee of the War on Faedrun; his father unknown. During the early years of his life his mother moved from place to place trying to avoid the war and did what was needed to survive. Eventually the pair managed to make it to one of the many villages in the Celestial Mountains by 245 and settled there.

Basil came to revere the Order of Arnath’s Clerics as they battled the Undead. The gleaming rows of Clerics and Lay Order as they marched to war. He dreamed of being one, but was too old to be given to the Order by that time. He instead set his sights on the Militia.

This was not to say the boy was unskilled in the way in fighting; growing up a refugee with a single mother, he was an easy target. His smaller stature and different skin only exacerbated it. He quickly learned to take his beatings and return the favor. Most quickly learned the hard way of the boy’s ability to take punishment and come back day after day. By the time he was settled in his village, he was a stout boy with hard fists and a knack for fighting many opponents.

It did not take long for a member of the Militia to notice him. Between the rumors of his fighting and the way he hung around the known officers, he quickly drew attention. Unfortunately, some thought it was because of his attractive mother. Either way, the boy quickly became a servant to the militia members by day and was instructed in the way of fighting at night.

When the first battle barges left for Mardrun, his mother packed them up and went with them. The boy protested, as he wished to follow his idols into combat with the Undead. His mother wisely overruled him as he was still too young to fight. The boy would resent her at the time, but later look back on it as a blessing.

The trip to Mardrun was a perilous one. The conditions on the battle barges were claustrophobic and harsh. Order Clerics enforced law where they could, but there was simply too many people. The boy dealt harshly with those who looked to prey upon him and his mother, and eventually any he could find.

This brought him to the attention of the Order Clerics on board, as a number of his victims reported him as the abuser. Brought before a group of clerics for judgment, the boy made quite the fool of himself with passionate speech and no evidence. Luckily, his mother was of cooler head and brought many witnesses. His accusers were then convicted and punished. The Clerics, however, did not lose sight of the boy and brought him into the ranks of the Militia. The boy had reached his goal.

However, the trip was not all happy news. The confines led to the easy spreading of disease. His mother, unfortunately, contracted a virulent plague that swept the ship. For two weeks she was on death’s door while the plague took many of the passengers. The Clerics did what they could, but there was never enough of them or supplies. Finally, his mother managed to pull through. However, she was never as healthy afterwards.

After landing in Mardrun he helped with the long journey to Starkhaven. His now official role in the Militia left him little time to see his mother, though he did so at every available opportunity. As the new colonists settled in, he was given some polish by the senior members of the Militia; namely, how to be a good soldier outside of taking care of himself. He learned unit tactics, strategy, and how to lead and take care of men.

During his first years on Mardrun, the young man did not see much action. He mostly patrolled roads, helped his unit, and served diligently. During that time he was ever the dutiful son, never looking for companionship. This started some rumors within Starkhaven, but most thought it a good mark on his character.

As Basil barely passed into manhood, so did his mother pass from the world. Her funeral was well attended as they were well respected. She was cremated on a funeral pyre; a strange concept in Starkhaven, but was waved away as old habits from the Fall.

The loss of his mother hit him hard. He took up drinking and brawling among the Militia members and townspeople. Repeated punishments from his superiors did not curb his destructive behavior. He also volunteered for duties that might be dangerous, but quickly was denied those as he was more of a danger to his team.

When all else had failed, his superior called in a favor. An Order Cleric was brought in to talk to the young man. Though he listened more respectfully than previously, the words did not sink in. As a last resort (as they did not want to lose the young man due to growing tensions on Mardrun), the Order Cleric challenged him to a trial of combat. Arnath would show him the way.

It went about as well for the young man as expected. Though skilled with arms, the Cleric easily beat the young man. Not one to quit, he kept coming back for more punishment until the Cleric beat him into submission. Taking the wearied young man back to his home, the Cleric and his superior made to visit him the next morning to heal his wounds and speak.

What they found was the young man in good health and decent spirits. Apparently, the fight had shown him back to the path of Arnath. What disturbed the Cleric more was the disappearance of his wounds. Some magic had to be at play. The young man confessed to be able to channel the divine powers as had his mother before him. When they questioned why he had not shown this talent before, the young man simply stated that life had taught him not to reveal all of his skills. Though there were some that had benefited from his and his mother’s skill, they had been sworn to secrecy. After a drumming by both the Cleric and his superior, the young man promised to put his skills to better use.

He did not have to wait long. Tensions flared in Mardrun not soon after. Though he was eager to prove his worth again, his superior often relegated him to more mundane affairs while using other militia members to support the Order. To his great shame and frustration, he was not with the force that went to hunt the Lich in the Dirge Swamp and to this, wonders if he had been there would more of his comrades returned.

The Order did not have the ability to keep him out of the fighting during the Civil War. His unit was deployed to patrol roads, guard convoys, and even support the Order on some missions. It was here he picked up disdain for the Ulven Clan leaders as he lost many friends over what he deemed petty reasons.

With the losses the Order sustained, his unit was slowly pulled back to Starkhaven. He found it much more worn and empty than previously. The corruption and infighting was also a shock to him, and his disgust for it fueled the fire.

One of the few remaining experienced members of the Starkhaven militia, Basil has thrown his efforts into rebuilding the settlements glory. He yearns to get out into the world and may soon have his chance.

The Order of Arnath’s Fist. That’s all I’ve known. Sure, I tried living life outside of it for a while once we were on Mardrun, but that didn’t work like I thought it would.

Like all humans, I was born on Faedrun. I lived within the Order’s borders. My father was a Lion. He fought on our borders, defending from enemies that wanted to see us fall. My mother could weave the divine magics, but studied herbs and healing. She never wanted to trust alone in the healing power of the divine. I tried to study with her, but it never stuck real well. I could only get so far with it. I never felt as passionate about healing like she did, but I always helped her like an obedient daughter should. I felt at peace outside the walls, hunting for food or acting as an escort for my mother and her expeditions to find new herbs. I was never an extremely strong fighter, but I could hold my own and my father knew I would defend my mother until I couldn’t swing a weapon. And even then would use whatever strength in my hands to be sure she could get away. I was always proud that he trusted me with her, but wondered if by letting me be the one to fall instead of her, did he value her life more than mine? I could understand why if so, but never bothered asking. That wasn’t what was important. Protecting her, always being strong when needed and not asking questions was what showed true strength. By the time I reached my teen years, the undead became an overwhelming force and it was apparent we needed to leave Faedrun. My mother would not leave until my father came with so that we all would be together, no matter if that was on this earth or the next. After we got to Mardrun, my dad helped to build the stronghold in Starkhaven. That’s when I began to question whether I should stay or venture on my own. My parents never pushed the Order onto me for a life to live, but they didn’t deny any of it from me either. With a short discussion of not having regrets, I left the Order to search for a life outside of it. That life was much different than I expected. I was proud to have been from the Order, but there were many out there that did not feel the same fondness or gratitude towards it. Ulven whose families were relocated, even some killed. They say the Order only treats those that look just like them well. I would always defend the Order, spreading the word to anyone that would listen that the Order were the defenders of the weak. This got me in many fights. A couple times left beaten to a pulp from groups of Ulven that didn’t feel the same. Less than a year went by before I came back to the Order. I had realized that the Order was in my blood and nothing would make me more proud than if they accepted me into their ranks. Times had been hard for the Order. No support from other human groups, the loss of so many Order members falling in battle. Now rejoined with my family, we all worked with the rest that stayed to keep the Order in as good as shape as we could. I trained when I had time, studied when I was too exhausted from fighting. I petitioned to join the Order. I was first accepted into the Layorder as a Scout. I knew my fighting was not up to Lion standard, but I wasn’t a complete dunce in it and I could read the land and people pretty well. With more vigilant training and dedication, I was accepted into the Eagle ranks. I felt complete. I was home.

SuuNalla Ree