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Played by: Trina Anderson
Name: Astera
Race: Human
Class: Rogue
Physical Traits: Green eyes, Blond hair, 5’9″
Skills: archery, sword and shield

As the colonists settled in on their newly acquired land, they had much to do. Farms for food, cities for the dwindled nobility. Such nobility as the Prince Aylin, wanted much farmland, though markets still slow as they are, many such families have been quite poor. Many couldn’t make ends meet no matter how hard they tried, the lands were taken as tax and given up to the nobility as compensation. This is the area where Astera was born, her father Diminicus, was considered a master farmer back on Faedrun, but the land they tilled now wouldn’t give anymore. As the years passed and Astera grew older the land they had dropped farther into a debt. Pulling themselves out seemed near to impossible. At ten, her mother came ill with fever unable to tend to her mother for Ilenia

As winter months grew near the food they had stored for themselves dwindled. Diminicus taught his daughter to hunt, as he taught her, they found she had a natural talent for archery, though as they kept going and evaded winter with the food from hunting her mother, Ilenia, started teaching her as well. Sword and shield became her secondary fast, and in much of the time not tending the fields or patching holes in clothes, her and her mother would be out in the yard doing battle.

As she learned her little brother, Nicon, became quite the rascal, jumping out of nowhere to attack her with sticks and twigs, shouting befuddled riddles about being an assassin. As they played their games, harvest time came quickly, but it couldn’t fill the coin needed for winters cold months. Astera took to the cities, a few days every week, stealing what coin she could get from those their, she was good at it. But it wasn’t ever enough to sustain the family, hunting became harder as the moose, and elk moved their grazing lands. The mordok had taken to eating much of the livestock, leaving little for them. Crops didn’t harvest well, and Prince Aylin’s supervisors, took their farm. In a burst of anger, Astera had taken up her sword, against the Supervisor, a rash decision of her split second break in the mind. Being met with hostile guards she quickly pulled herself away and back to her family. In the week they had to vacate the house they left many belongings behind. Turning to relatives in Aldoria they took up helping them with the shops and their own homes. Her pride hurt, Astera left, to find something to do, something that would earn her money and allow her to get the farm back. On her movement north, she found herself surrounded by people cloaked in green. Silent and swift on their feet she hadn’t noticed them til they were upon her. Hence, she met the Rangers, her current family.

Name: Hissaelon Ironhorse.

Race: Half human, half Syndar (Human dominant)

History: My family history consists of soldiers from the The Kingdom of Vandregon. My father was a brave man and never ran away from a fight and thought the best death was in battle. He was married to the love of his life, but had two children, each one from a different mother (both were drunk during a Syndar celabration). My mother was a syndar from the The Kingdom of Tielorrien. She was a peaceful woman, but she was a skilled fighter in both dual blade and bow and taught me when I was young. She died from the undead plague, but passed on her weapons to me. My father was on somewhat good terms with me. He gave me food and shelter, but spent most of his time either training my brother, Thandor Ironhorse, or fulfilling his roles to Vandregon. When the dead spread across the lands, my brother and I were put on ships to the new world. Our fathers location is still unknown to us because he went missing when fighting a Penitent raiding party. We are now mercenaries in the new land, but I hope to claim a banner one day to fight a for greater cause than myself. Thandor, however, his sword belongs to gold coins.

Character is known for being sympathetic towards Syndar due to his shared bloodline.

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.

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.

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”

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.