idalie
ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ʙᴀʙʏʟᴏɴ
I thought it'd be a good option for reform, I have no clue if theres any standing armies anyway!! help!!
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Fantasy An Earthen Lament | OOC [FULL]
- Thread starter Gowi
- Start date
-
- Tags
- dark fantasy
Gowi
dreamer memer
Well, Anemor has inherited a lot of imperial traditions of Iliandur, so a standing army might not be too out there. I suppose it depends on the degree of the crimes, though I'm not too fussed about it. Doesn't explain why you're in the south, though.
idalie
ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ʙᴀʙʏʟᴏɴ
he was going to get caught up being blamed for rape which never happened, so it all goes tits up for him. Probably branded somewhere visible for the crime? if thats acceptable, so its been a shitty time all round for 30 something years
Gowi
dreamer memer
I'm not quite sure about that concept, but I can't say anything until I see a rough draft of a sheet, but positions in the RP are first-come first-serve and I don't see us having a very large party.
idalie
ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ʙᴀʙʏʟᴏɴ
Sounds fair enough, I'll try getting him out today if I can
Gowi
dreamer memer
BELIAL.
Speaking of your character, I must confess that I am continuing to develop magic. Could you edit your sheet with a arcane focus of some kind for your character's channeling of the arcane? This will not effect your consorting with spirits in your dreams or in an arcane trance should you lose it, but it will help direct fundamental arcane spells and transmutations such as arcane bolt, fireball, etc.
Cassie Lang
Junior Member
Speaking of your character, I must confess that I am continuing to develop magic. Could you edit your sheet with a arcane focus of some kind for your character's channeling of the arcane? This will not effect your consorting with spirits in your dreams or in an arcane trance should you lose it, but it will help direct fundamental arcane spells and transmutations such as arcane bolt, fireball, etc.
That raises an idea I should probably ask for later down the road. Is there potentially "religious" magic in this setting, and if so, would it be seen in the same way as, say, arcane magic?
Gowi
dreamer memer
From the Lore thread:
Arcane magic is about grasping the magical energy that connects dreams to reality--the veil between planes--while holy magic is inherent through belief and patronage from a celestial god-like being such as Helstar or Aegis, though there are many more aspects of light than those two, they are just the two most common to grant powers to Inquisitors of the Dawn.
McMolly
New Member
Well, here's a first draft for consideration!
[div class=fyuriwrapper]
[div class=headerleft]Frei Iordan
[/div]
Female Human
Knight Inquisitor
[/div]
Frei is at once overwhelmingly gentle, and intensely earnest; a woman of few and soft words, and brutally determined action. The divine virtues which bind the northron lands have guided her throughout her life, but she’s always been one to lean into their more protective and nurturing aspects.
There are parts to being an Inquisitor which Frei excels at. She’s a fantastic listener, a necessity when searching for mages in strange lands, and she has the patience of a saint, for when the searches drag on, or peter off into dead-ends. Her gentle, caring nature and penchant for charity mean that folk tend to trust her, or at least don’t shy to ask favors of her—the careful leveraging of which can also be crucial in the hunt.
Conversely, she falls short in other areas. An Inquisitor’s hunt often requires a degree of dishonesty, something which Frei is both intimately familiar with, and staunchly opposed to. This isn’t to say she’s guileless, or dense, but she has a propensity to speak bluntly and truthfully, even to those who should be her enemy. As well, and perhaps expectedly, Frei is often too trusting herself. She frequently projects the weight placed upon her own word onto the words of others, and as such, has a habit of choosing faith over evidence.
[div class=headermain]Background[/div]
In the cathedral-city of Eiel, the Divine Order reigns and the people flourish. Frei was born the eldest daughter of an accomplished Inquisitor by the name of Hyder. She and her younger sister, Eila, grew up idolizing the Order, and the protection it cast over Anemor. From her earliest years, Frei remembers wanting to be like her father: kind, just, a protector of the innocent, a shield against corruption and a blade against evil. An Inquisitor. Eila, more concerned with being by Frei’s side, was determined to follow her sister wherever she went.
Unfortunately, their paths diverged when Eila was discovered to have more potent magical capabilities than would be appropriate for an Inquisitor. The girl, still only a child at the time, was instead carted off to Eiel’s magicarium to learn with others of her kind, under the watchful gaze of an order she could never be a part of. Frei was conflicted, and often visited Eila in the company of their father to check up on her. Being young, Eila took to her lessons well, but this only seemed to disturb Hyder.
Frei’s own training progressed quickly. Under the tutelage of her father, she soon found herself apprenticed to one of his companions. What time she didn’t spend practicing swordsmanship, reading scripture, and learning magic-against-magic, she spent at the magicarium with Eila. Though her didactic training had made Frei cautious of Eila’s arcane nature, she couldn’t view her the way she was meant to. The Inquisitors saw mages as liabilities, like enemies-in-waiting, only a second’s breath away from causing chaos and destruction, but certainly Eila was different. She was a good girl, a smart girl. They’d wanted the same thing since they were both little, and while it might not have been fair that Eila was stuck in the magicarium, that didn’t make her evil. It couldn’t.
Eventually, to no one’s surprise, Frei was accepted into the order as a full Inquisitor. She spent her first year in Eiel’s magicarium, living up to every stereotype that the Inquisitor’s were little more than the mage’s sitters, but she didn’t mind. It was more time around Eila, who, despite the circumstance, was ecstatic for Frei’s accomplishment. Frei watched more closely as Eila’s lessons continued, and day by day she became convinced that there must be exceptions to the order’s exceptionless views. Eila was good. She never caused trouble, never shirked her responsibilities, and somehow, Frei thought her little sister harbored a hope that someday she might still stand beside her. Perhaps it wasn’t impossible.
When Frei underwent her Rite of Communion, she chose Aegis as her patron. The Arbiter of forgiveness, the shield of the brothers of divinity. She passed her trials, and she awoke not to celebration, but panic.
The Eiel rebellion was brutal and quick, by the time she’d reached the magicarium it was over. A small yet powerful collection of students had staged an escape, and in doing so had spurred many others to follow them. They left fire and death in their wake. She found her father in the destruction, far beyond saving. Dying and delirious, he swore to her with his final breath that Eila had aided the traitors.
Frei was stricken. When the dust had settled, and it was confirmed that her sister was missing, she didn’t know what to think. She knew what she should think, what she had been taught to think, but after so many years it was still inconceivable to her. Not Eila. Not her. There must have been a reason.
Eiel’s remaining Inquisitors were divided in duty. A majority remained in the city, to guard over the remaining mages and ensure through whatever means necessary that a similar catastrophe never befell Eiel again. The rest were sent out to track down the escapees, and any other rogue mages that might be plaguing the land.
Frei was among those released into the world. For the first time she left the northron lands, determined yet undeniably shaken. Though two years of searching yielded her justice for the order, she found no answers for herself. Still Eila was missing. Still, she didn’t know why. And she feared that perhaps she never would.
Currently she’s found herself in the village of Hleów, under the guise of a knight errant.
[div class=headermain]Skills & Abilities[/div]
Having trained not only under her Inquisitor father, but his close companions, Frei has a firm grasp of the combative arts. Her aptitude for the sword set her apart from others in her class, as well as her tendency to eschew the standard shield for a second, shorter sword or dagger when she would spar against others. Graceful, but fierce, Frei herself dislikes combat, but recognizes the fact that the world, and those she chases, will likely not be reasoned with.
She also learned many of the magical skills iconic to her order. Though utilizing divine magics to hunt evil is poetically just, Frei still loathes to use spells, and this is certainly her weakest point as an Inquisitor. The spells she’s most adept with—perhaps even the only ones—allow her to combat minor diseases, project a thin ward against spells, and cure smaller wounds. Those which rely upon faith are much easier for her than those which pull from a latent source of mana. The latter are often inaccessible to her without complete focus, meaning she won’t be calling them in battle any time soon.
Finally, Frei is a savvy traveler. Though she is fairly new to applying her training, she knows well enough how to traverse the southron marshlands. Sniffing out mages isn’t always simple, but at least she can follow their trail with a degree of experience.
[div class=headermain]Equipment[/div]
1 backpack and bedroll
1 longsword
1 shortsword
1 Focus, a ring, suitable only for minor spells
1 dingy set of armor, a roughshod mix of leather and plate
1 waterskin
2 coin pouches, one strapped to her belt, another—containing funds from Eiel—hidden in her backpack
1 Inquisitor’s Token, hidden in her backpack
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[div class=headerleft]Frei Iordan
[/div]
[div class=tri]
[/div]Female Human
Knight Inquisitor
[/div]
[div class=headermain]Personality
Frei is at once overwhelmingly gentle, and intensely earnest; a woman of few and soft words, and brutally determined action. The divine virtues which bind the northron lands have guided her throughout her life, but she’s always been one to lean into their more protective and nurturing aspects.
There are parts to being an Inquisitor which Frei excels at. She’s a fantastic listener, a necessity when searching for mages in strange lands, and she has the patience of a saint, for when the searches drag on, or peter off into dead-ends. Her gentle, caring nature and penchant for charity mean that folk tend to trust her, or at least don’t shy to ask favors of her—the careful leveraging of which can also be crucial in the hunt.
Conversely, she falls short in other areas. An Inquisitor’s hunt often requires a degree of dishonesty, something which Frei is both intimately familiar with, and staunchly opposed to. This isn’t to say she’s guileless, or dense, but she has a propensity to speak bluntly and truthfully, even to those who should be her enemy. As well, and perhaps expectedly, Frei is often too trusting herself. She frequently projects the weight placed upon her own word onto the words of others, and as such, has a habit of choosing faith over evidence.
[div class=headermain]Background[/div]
In the cathedral-city of Eiel, the Divine Order reigns and the people flourish. Frei was born the eldest daughter of an accomplished Inquisitor by the name of Hyder. She and her younger sister, Eila, grew up idolizing the Order, and the protection it cast over Anemor. From her earliest years, Frei remembers wanting to be like her father: kind, just, a protector of the innocent, a shield against corruption and a blade against evil. An Inquisitor. Eila, more concerned with being by Frei’s side, was determined to follow her sister wherever she went.
Unfortunately, their paths diverged when Eila was discovered to have more potent magical capabilities than would be appropriate for an Inquisitor. The girl, still only a child at the time, was instead carted off to Eiel’s magicarium to learn with others of her kind, under the watchful gaze of an order she could never be a part of. Frei was conflicted, and often visited Eila in the company of their father to check up on her. Being young, Eila took to her lessons well, but this only seemed to disturb Hyder.
Frei’s own training progressed quickly. Under the tutelage of her father, she soon found herself apprenticed to one of his companions. What time she didn’t spend practicing swordsmanship, reading scripture, and learning magic-against-magic, she spent at the magicarium with Eila. Though her didactic training had made Frei cautious of Eila’s arcane nature, she couldn’t view her the way she was meant to. The Inquisitors saw mages as liabilities, like enemies-in-waiting, only a second’s breath away from causing chaos and destruction, but certainly Eila was different. She was a good girl, a smart girl. They’d wanted the same thing since they were both little, and while it might not have been fair that Eila was stuck in the magicarium, that didn’t make her evil. It couldn’t.
Eventually, to no one’s surprise, Frei was accepted into the order as a full Inquisitor. She spent her first year in Eiel’s magicarium, living up to every stereotype that the Inquisitor’s were little more than the mage’s sitters, but she didn’t mind. It was more time around Eila, who, despite the circumstance, was ecstatic for Frei’s accomplishment. Frei watched more closely as Eila’s lessons continued, and day by day she became convinced that there must be exceptions to the order’s exceptionless views. Eila was good. She never caused trouble, never shirked her responsibilities, and somehow, Frei thought her little sister harbored a hope that someday she might still stand beside her. Perhaps it wasn’t impossible.
When Frei underwent her Rite of Communion, she chose Aegis as her patron. The Arbiter of forgiveness, the shield of the brothers of divinity. She passed her trials, and she awoke not to celebration, but panic.
The Eiel rebellion was brutal and quick, by the time she’d reached the magicarium it was over. A small yet powerful collection of students had staged an escape, and in doing so had spurred many others to follow them. They left fire and death in their wake. She found her father in the destruction, far beyond saving. Dying and delirious, he swore to her with his final breath that Eila had aided the traitors.
Frei was stricken. When the dust had settled, and it was confirmed that her sister was missing, she didn’t know what to think. She knew what she should think, what she had been taught to think, but after so many years it was still inconceivable to her. Not Eila. Not her. There must have been a reason.
Eiel’s remaining Inquisitors were divided in duty. A majority remained in the city, to guard over the remaining mages and ensure through whatever means necessary that a similar catastrophe never befell Eiel again. The rest were sent out to track down the escapees, and any other rogue mages that might be plaguing the land.
Frei was among those released into the world. For the first time she left the northron lands, determined yet undeniably shaken. Though two years of searching yielded her justice for the order, she found no answers for herself. Still Eila was missing. Still, she didn’t know why. And she feared that perhaps she never would.
Currently she’s found herself in the village of Hleów, under the guise of a knight errant.
[div class=headermain]Skills & Abilities[/div]
Having trained not only under her Inquisitor father, but his close companions, Frei has a firm grasp of the combative arts. Her aptitude for the sword set her apart from others in her class, as well as her tendency to eschew the standard shield for a second, shorter sword or dagger when she would spar against others. Graceful, but fierce, Frei herself dislikes combat, but recognizes the fact that the world, and those she chases, will likely not be reasoned with.
She also learned many of the magical skills iconic to her order. Though utilizing divine magics to hunt evil is poetically just, Frei still loathes to use spells, and this is certainly her weakest point as an Inquisitor. The spells she’s most adept with—perhaps even the only ones—allow her to combat minor diseases, project a thin ward against spells, and cure smaller wounds. Those which rely upon faith are much easier for her than those which pull from a latent source of mana. The latter are often inaccessible to her without complete focus, meaning she won’t be calling them in battle any time soon.
Finally, Frei is a savvy traveler. Though she is fairly new to applying her training, she knows well enough how to traverse the southron marshlands. Sniffing out mages isn’t always simple, but at least she can follow their trail with a degree of experience.
[div class=headermain]Equipment[/div]
1 backpack and bedroll
1 longsword
1 shortsword
1 Focus, a ring, suitable only for minor spells
1 dingy set of armor, a roughshod mix of leather and plate
1 waterskin
2 coin pouches, one strapped to her belt, another—containing funds from Eiel—hidden in her backpack
1 Inquisitor’s Token, hidden in her backpack
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Last edited:
Lekiel
Two Thousand Club
Do you require a set number of character classes/roles? Somehow i have the impression that there is from reading the OOC but don't see it anywhere in the lore 
Gowi
dreamer memer
Right now I am looking for at the minimum--three capable writers as I stated in the OOC. I admittedly have not specifically pointed out class quantity, but yes, I am looking for no more than two of each core classification unique to fantasy stories and games. I will not be accepting more than five character proposals. Classifications aren't in the lore document due to the fact they are not lore.Do you require a set number of character classes/roles? Somehow i have the impression that there is from reading the OOC but don't see it anywhere in the lore
BELIAL.
wanna bewitch you in the moonlight
can do!!
Speaking of your character, I must confess that I am continuing to develop magic. Could you edit your sheet with a arcane focus of some kind for your character's channeling of the arcane? This will not effect your consorting with spirits in your dreams or in an arcane trance should you lose it, but it will help direct fundamental arcane spells and transmutations such as arcane bolt, fireball, etc.
Lekiel
Two Thousand Club
I'm wondering if I'm missing some lore =S?
Is there a map somewhere? Or at least a thorough description of places? Where did this cathedral-city mcmolly mentioned come from? Or where does it say that inquisitors choose their patron deity during their ceremony?
Is there a map somewhere? Or at least a thorough description of places? Where did this cathedral-city mcmolly mentioned come from? Or where does it say that inquisitors choose their patron deity during their ceremony?
idalie
ᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ʙᴀʙʏʟᴏɴ
[div class=fyuriwrapper]
[div class=headerleft]Hunslaus K. Schwarzwald
[/div]
Race: Human
Age: 36
Class: Champion/Fighter
[/div]
A powerfully built man, taller than most and heavyset with muscle you wouldn’t see on any member of the gentility. His swarthy face brings out the stark silver of scars which are memoirs of tough battles and tougher decisions. Calloused palms and crooked incisors are a testament to his social status, whilst in any other case, one might have considered him handsome for all his flaws. The aquiline nose, marred with bumps from being broken, commands certain respect with a harsh gaze directed down it. Eyes, appearing more black than brown from the shadow of his brow, are only made further intense from his framed cheekbones. Wrinkles have begun to creep in, chiselling out laugh lines and the worries in his forehead with a life of hardships and late nights. Shaggy, grey hair is slowly coloured whiter by the day, his sideburns being the first culprits to turn their backs on the remnants of his youth.
[div class=headermain]Personality[/div]
Schwarzwald has never been nice. From the twist of his cynical lips and the bitter taste of coin, whatever manners had been imparted to him in his youth are long gone. Unsurprisingly stoic, Hun avoids being openly emotional, even his laughter being sparse and aligning with his dark, occasionally niche humour. Whilst he might appear detached, cool, and disinterested, Hunslaus suffers deep anxieties over how people view him, or how others might even aim to use him. Stuck in the past with no way of moving forward, he will often exhibit a strange, lost melancholy when questioned about it. There is more to life than merely surviving, but after all that has happened, survival seems to not quite cut it anymore. He has nothing and no one, no lands, no people, no ties. Almost forty and he's nothing to show for a life fraught with suffering. Most nights he’ll carve statuettes, small talismans, even playthings for village children. It keeps his mind from straying, a strategy to work through bad days. For there is more to worry about in his price of sin than there is petty troubles.
[div class=headermain]Background[/div]
Hunslaus was born to the South, in a merchant town. One of three children, the only son and heir of his father. It was out there they owned a carpentry shop, a successful, respected business in the community. During hot summers their door would be propped open and out drifted the scent of sharp pine, soft varnish, the honey that accompanied beeswax. Floors thick with wood chippings and splinters aplenty. His mother washing laundry on the stone steps of the back entry, his sisters' complaints and chatter of the weather a grey background noise of gossip. In the winters, they worked closely by candlelight, father and son, squinting to see the grain of the wood as the sun dipped lower by the day. Sisters finding their entertainment in embroidery for fear of going out and catching illness before they caught husbands.
Hun found himself apprenticed to the family business when he was old enough to hold a chisel, it was never something he asked for. Yet it was in his blood, a trade they were slaves to. Learning a little literacy and arithmetic to help keep business simple - the paths to academics, aristocrats and romancers were not for those of his status. They were the workers, the builders, the ones lucky enough to know how to mould wood with their hands and earn more than pittance for it. The hearty laughs and hearty appetites, comfortable wives and children to work for you in old age. A good trade. A good place to be. Let no grand illusion have it ruined.
Fate had other plans in the works for the young boy. Whilst he grew into his father's boots, there came the pains that came with it. The strange teenage experience of girls and selfish desires. At fifteen, he and a merchant's daughter became entangled. She was above him in status, but to both of them, it would be a short summer thrill of escaping class and finding comfort in their differences. It was one of those nights, their stolen meetings, that she would never make it home. Confronted by her brother, they fought and whilst that merchant's daughter begged them to stop and tried to pull them apart - she fell. Backwards down a grassy slope, landing odd on her neck.
Hunslaus didn’t have time to defend himself from what would come. The belittling of court, accusations of rape and sexual deviancy, how he had killed her and been intercepted by her brother in his arrest. They paid to ensure he would die, set the world against him. His father never did look him in the eyes when Hunslaus begged to be heard for what truth was his own. Out of paternal love, strings were pulled to involve one of the local lords and under the table, came the offer of survival. It came packaged in a sinister contract, pledging his life away to become a man of war. Part of a mercenary group that the lord, in particular, had founded for his own interest and income.
Branded, shackled, cast off. No friends, no family, nowhere to call home. He was trained to fight, from sixteen he knew how to kill, and from seventeen he didn’t know right from wrong. His youth was lost the day he saw that pretty girl walk past the shopfront. Known to others for his previous crimes and as one of the few youngest members, Hun got his fair share of hazing. The men there had been saved by similar means and were cruel, exceptionally skilled, and equally unrelenting in their training.
He took the best and the worst. His hatred blamed the elves, the dwarves, the rich and entitled. He lost friends, gained brothers, betrayed them with promise. Still, he came out of every skirmish, every execution, every intimidation - unscathed. Undead. Unkillable. It didn’t last. He started getting older, started seeing more of what he was missing, the warm hearths and loving wives, the love that didn’t hurt you. Bands of workers that laughed, taverns spilling with sooty faces from work. He was twenty-nine summers when he worked up the plan to leave that contract. The one that saved him.
Hunslaus returned home to his town, wearier, older. His father's shop still stood, it still smelled of varnish and pine. Yet he never had the courage to approach the old, weathered man behind the counter. So he travelled to the marshlands for a new lease on life. Started his own mercenary business, did odd jobs, followed seasonal work. He’d hunt and sell the skins, join groups of adventurers for a slice of the bounties. A lot of caravan work which sent him back and forth, avoiding those who still searched for him. A bounty on his head - one which didn’t ask for him to be alive.
It was freedom, fulfilling to have it in his hands at last. And still, it was lonely. The long nights of contemplation and regrets - it's been seven years since then. Each having their ups and downs, friends and foes. Hearing of a caravanning job, however, Hun needed the money.
[div class=headermain]Skills & Abilities[/div]
Besides being in fine physical health with good strength and reflexes, Hunslaus is an adept swordsman. On and off the battlefield, he’ll fight dirty without a sense of guilt for the rules combat being bent to his advantage and relies on common sense rather than twisting and turning like the whole thing is some kind of masterful waltz. Killing men has been a long time skill of his after all. Brawling, equally, is a second nature. From his tavern exploits to losing weapons in a fight, hand to hand poses no threat.
Besides his background as a mercenary, Hun is quite the tactician. From maps to in-the-moment, he's got wits about him to pull it off or run for the hills if need be. He might not be able to spell for shit, but he sure as hell manages to pull off the feat of a comprehensive attack plan.
An overall good negotiator from his personal worldly knowledge, aided by a healthy dose of intimidation - finer emotions are harder to work with. He might whittle down the price of a weapon, but pray to God he doesn’t have to handle a crying woman.
[div class=headermain]Equipment[/div]
1 x Backpack
1 x Bedroll
1 x Thick woollen fleece blanket
2 x Waterskins
2 x Sword (One-handed blade and shorter blade)
1 x Clay pipe and small bag of tobacco
1 x Penknife
2 x Basic salves for injuries, antibiotic and antiinflammatory
2 x Bandages/Dressings
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[div class=headerleft]Hunslaus K. Schwarzwald
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[/div]Gender: MaleRace: Human
Age: 36
Class: Champion/Fighter
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[div class=headermain]Appearance
A powerfully built man, taller than most and heavyset with muscle you wouldn’t see on any member of the gentility. His swarthy face brings out the stark silver of scars which are memoirs of tough battles and tougher decisions. Calloused palms and crooked incisors are a testament to his social status, whilst in any other case, one might have considered him handsome for all his flaws. The aquiline nose, marred with bumps from being broken, commands certain respect with a harsh gaze directed down it. Eyes, appearing more black than brown from the shadow of his brow, are only made further intense from his framed cheekbones. Wrinkles have begun to creep in, chiselling out laugh lines and the worries in his forehead with a life of hardships and late nights. Shaggy, grey hair is slowly coloured whiter by the day, his sideburns being the first culprits to turn their backs on the remnants of his youth.
[div class=headermain]Personality[/div]
Schwarzwald has never been nice. From the twist of his cynical lips and the bitter taste of coin, whatever manners had been imparted to him in his youth are long gone. Unsurprisingly stoic, Hun avoids being openly emotional, even his laughter being sparse and aligning with his dark, occasionally niche humour. Whilst he might appear detached, cool, and disinterested, Hunslaus suffers deep anxieties over how people view him, or how others might even aim to use him. Stuck in the past with no way of moving forward, he will often exhibit a strange, lost melancholy when questioned about it. There is more to life than merely surviving, but after all that has happened, survival seems to not quite cut it anymore. He has nothing and no one, no lands, no people, no ties. Almost forty and he's nothing to show for a life fraught with suffering. Most nights he’ll carve statuettes, small talismans, even playthings for village children. It keeps his mind from straying, a strategy to work through bad days. For there is more to worry about in his price of sin than there is petty troubles.
[div class=headermain]Background[/div]
Hunslaus was born to the South, in a merchant town. One of three children, the only son and heir of his father. It was out there they owned a carpentry shop, a successful, respected business in the community. During hot summers their door would be propped open and out drifted the scent of sharp pine, soft varnish, the honey that accompanied beeswax. Floors thick with wood chippings and splinters aplenty. His mother washing laundry on the stone steps of the back entry, his sisters' complaints and chatter of the weather a grey background noise of gossip. In the winters, they worked closely by candlelight, father and son, squinting to see the grain of the wood as the sun dipped lower by the day. Sisters finding their entertainment in embroidery for fear of going out and catching illness before they caught husbands.
Hun found himself apprenticed to the family business when he was old enough to hold a chisel, it was never something he asked for. Yet it was in his blood, a trade they were slaves to. Learning a little literacy and arithmetic to help keep business simple - the paths to academics, aristocrats and romancers were not for those of his status. They were the workers, the builders, the ones lucky enough to know how to mould wood with their hands and earn more than pittance for it. The hearty laughs and hearty appetites, comfortable wives and children to work for you in old age. A good trade. A good place to be. Let no grand illusion have it ruined.
Fate had other plans in the works for the young boy. Whilst he grew into his father's boots, there came the pains that came with it. The strange teenage experience of girls and selfish desires. At fifteen, he and a merchant's daughter became entangled. She was above him in status, but to both of them, it would be a short summer thrill of escaping class and finding comfort in their differences. It was one of those nights, their stolen meetings, that she would never make it home. Confronted by her brother, they fought and whilst that merchant's daughter begged them to stop and tried to pull them apart - she fell. Backwards down a grassy slope, landing odd on her neck.
Hunslaus didn’t have time to defend himself from what would come. The belittling of court, accusations of rape and sexual deviancy, how he had killed her and been intercepted by her brother in his arrest. They paid to ensure he would die, set the world against him. His father never did look him in the eyes when Hunslaus begged to be heard for what truth was his own. Out of paternal love, strings were pulled to involve one of the local lords and under the table, came the offer of survival. It came packaged in a sinister contract, pledging his life away to become a man of war. Part of a mercenary group that the lord, in particular, had founded for his own interest and income.
Branded, shackled, cast off. No friends, no family, nowhere to call home. He was trained to fight, from sixteen he knew how to kill, and from seventeen he didn’t know right from wrong. His youth was lost the day he saw that pretty girl walk past the shopfront. Known to others for his previous crimes and as one of the few youngest members, Hun got his fair share of hazing. The men there had been saved by similar means and were cruel, exceptionally skilled, and equally unrelenting in their training.
He took the best and the worst. His hatred blamed the elves, the dwarves, the rich and entitled. He lost friends, gained brothers, betrayed them with promise. Still, he came out of every skirmish, every execution, every intimidation - unscathed. Undead. Unkillable. It didn’t last. He started getting older, started seeing more of what he was missing, the warm hearths and loving wives, the love that didn’t hurt you. Bands of workers that laughed, taverns spilling with sooty faces from work. He was twenty-nine summers when he worked up the plan to leave that contract. The one that saved him.
Hunslaus returned home to his town, wearier, older. His father's shop still stood, it still smelled of varnish and pine. Yet he never had the courage to approach the old, weathered man behind the counter. So he travelled to the marshlands for a new lease on life. Started his own mercenary business, did odd jobs, followed seasonal work. He’d hunt and sell the skins, join groups of adventurers for a slice of the bounties. A lot of caravan work which sent him back and forth, avoiding those who still searched for him. A bounty on his head - one which didn’t ask for him to be alive.
It was freedom, fulfilling to have it in his hands at last. And still, it was lonely. The long nights of contemplation and regrets - it's been seven years since then. Each having their ups and downs, friends and foes. Hearing of a caravanning job, however, Hun needed the money.
[div class=headermain]Skills & Abilities[/div]
Besides being in fine physical health with good strength and reflexes, Hunslaus is an adept swordsman. On and off the battlefield, he’ll fight dirty without a sense of guilt for the rules combat being bent to his advantage and relies on common sense rather than twisting and turning like the whole thing is some kind of masterful waltz. Killing men has been a long time skill of his after all. Brawling, equally, is a second nature. From his tavern exploits to losing weapons in a fight, hand to hand poses no threat.
Besides his background as a mercenary, Hun is quite the tactician. From maps to in-the-moment, he's got wits about him to pull it off or run for the hills if need be. He might not be able to spell for shit, but he sure as hell manages to pull off the feat of a comprehensive attack plan.
An overall good negotiator from his personal worldly knowledge, aided by a healthy dose of intimidation - finer emotions are harder to work with. He might whittle down the price of a weapon, but pray to God he doesn’t have to handle a crying woman.
[div class=headermain]Equipment[/div]
1 x Backpack
1 x Bedroll
1 x Thick woollen fleece blanket
2 x Waterskins
2 x Sword (One-handed blade and shorter blade)
1 x Clay pipe and small bag of tobacco
1 x Penknife
2 x Basic salves for injuries, antibiotic and antiinflammatory
2 x Bandages/Dressings
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He's... here
Gowi
Last edited:
Gowi
dreamer memer
The information about inquisitor patrons is in the lore doc, which was finalized yesterday give-or-take. Liel was created by Molly, which given this is something I'm defining as we go didn't mind all that much. As the interest check stated this is a work in progress and every user has freedom to define things as long as they don't contradict previously established lore or I veto it. There is no map as of this time.
McMolly
New Member
Hype!
Gowi
dreamer memer
Just waiting on
Cassie Lang
and anyone else with proposals before I decide if I'm making a GMPC or not.
Cassie Lang
and anyone else with proposals before I decide if I'm making a GMPC or not.
BELIAL.
wanna bewitch you in the moonlight
hRRRRRRR
Gowi
dreamer memer
Gowi
dreamer memer
McMolly
BELIAL.
idalie
Understand that while the party hasn't been finalized, I did decide to prepare the IC early. Those who are accepted (see: you) may post, but don't try to post too far ahead while other sheets are coming in. Oh. Also, I changed the opener to be a bit more tense and murky, so I hope you guys don't mind.
Gowi
dreamer memer
Lekiel
Cassie Lang
ElenaIsCool
LieutenantL
+ others from the interest checkAs for application deadlines, I'll probably not be waiting too long. October 6th or 7th at most.
BELIAL.
wanna bewitch you in the moonlight
ohh you spoil us!!
Understand that while the party hasn't been finalized, I did decide to prepare the IC early. Those who are accepted (see: you) may post, but don't try to post too far ahead while other sheets are coming in. Oh. Also, I changed the opener to be a bit more tense and murky, so I hope you guys don't mind.
Gowi
dreamer memer
Don't talk up my ego too much.
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