Fantasy Into Darkness - Characters

[GH0STV]

INTO DARKNESS

The Characters​

OOC
Into Darkness: End of an Age



Name: Alekzander “Zander” Gardens

Race: Human

Physical description: Zander stands around six feet tall, male and in his late twenties, a fit but not overly impressive build, with thick locks of dark brown hair past his shoulders and piercing light blue eyes. He is typically seen hidden beneath his cloak, hood drawn.

Abilities: A quick and patient fighter, Zander was a natural with the blade from his first swing. He also became very proficient with a bow during his time with the Elves, and learned many healing techniques and natural remedies from them.

Equipment: Zander carries a two-handed sword sheathed at his waist and a long Elvish bow around his shoulder on his adventures. Under his clothes, he wears an Elvish chain mail shirt given to him as a child that is so light he even sleeps with it.

Backstory: Zander was raised in Harnumen under Lord Haralond for as long as he remembered. He had never met his parents, and knew nothing of them but the fact that they were thought to be dead, and that his father had known the Elf Lord and requested him to raise Zander before his passing. He received a good education, became very skilled in combat, and was overall quite comfortable in the Elvish home, but somehow felt a longing for something more. One day in his late teens, he grabbed some weapons, sneaked aboard a ship destined for the Mainland, and hid in the cargo hold.
He spent the first few years in his new part of the world settled in Whardon, and became known for his expertise in combat as a skilled mercenary. After collecting a fair bit of gold, he decided to take a break from combat and explore more of the Mainland, until he came to Elmas where he settled and stayed far longer than he had expected. After a few more years, that burning feeling of longing from his teens was rekindled, and he travelled back to Whardon for some new adventures.



--


The above is the character I'll be using. Your bio doesn't need to be any more complicated than that, I prefer finding out more during the story. Once accepted, please post your bio in this thread. Below is the template I used, feel free to use it if you like. My only real request is that you not use pictures to portray your character.


Name: Your character's name, can include nicknames

Race: Human, Human Magi, Elf, Dwarf or Drakken

Physical description: appearance, height, weight, etc

Abilities: combat abilities, first aid abilities, weapon of choice, magical abilities, etc

Equipment: weapons, armour, and any other significant or combat related items

Backstory: short description of your character's background

 

[sheesh]

Name: Arthur [Lambaccher], the Phoenix

Race: Human

Physical description: Arthur stands at a towering 6'10, with a very muscular build. He's at least 300 pounds, and that weight is mainly muscle. He has hazel eyes, and short messy hair. The most defining feature about his head is the size of his ears. They're very large, and look comical on his round shaped head. He's about 20-something years of age, likely in his late 20's.

Abilities: Arthur's Halberd holds an enchanted gem, expertly crafted into the shaft of it. The gem was made by a Drakken for free, which is ridiculous considering it's power. Whenever Arthur wills it, the edge of the Halberd would emit a wave of magic. This magic is powerful, and often devastates groups of enemies. Its power varies on the current mood and emotions of Arthur, often being more powerful when Arthur is feeling angry, and weaker when sad. Some emotions cancel out the power of the Halberd completely.

Arthur, being a person of a bigger, stronger build, he's also immensely strong. This of course slows him down.

Arthur wields his Halberd like he was born with it. But, he is also great with other heavier weapons. His fists count as heavy weapons as well.

Arthur has a different definition of 'pain'. Unless you feel like you're about to throw-up everything you've ever eaten as well as your intestines, it doesn't hurt. This goes the same for 'injured'. If you can fight, even a little, you're not hurt. With this mindset, he also has a ungodly tolerance for pain.

Equipment: Arthur wears have plate armor, with little room for weapons to penetrate, even at the joints. The entire set was personally crafted by Arthur and he did a good job doing it. The armor is comfortable, soft, warm and padded on the inside, but the outside is made out of the best steel Arthur could buy. His chest plate comes with a collar to protect his neck. Arthur also carries a large Halberd as his primary weapon, as well as a small knife. He has a small bag full of emergency necessities, such as bandages, medical herbs, food and water. He has about enough to satiate 2 people if he doesn't use any of it on himself.

Backstory: Arthur was born in Suna, but grew up in Whardon. His father, who was similar to Arthur himself in stature and build found work in the military. His father was relocated to a larger outpost not far from the military headquarters. For a while, he traveled back from Suna to Whardon a few times for work, but eventually his mother got the idea to relocate closer to to save him the trouble. After this move, in Whardon, his father was received a career ending injury in a blacksmithing accident that resulted in most of his body being severely burned. He could no longer financially support the family, so Arthur took it upon himself to become an apprentice under someone. It didn't pay well, but it paid just enough to live off of. He realized how they were just barely living, so he got the idea to steal money, or things of value.

In a raid on a trade route, an accident occurred that involved a human magi who quickly wiped out the raiding party. Arthur was presumed dead for 10 years, but he had met with a wealthier Drakken who he had befriended and lived with him, forgetting completely about his family, as they were old and dying by this time. Arthur's sudden re-emergence had been taken with great notice, as his Halberd shooting white magic out of it wasn't something easily ignored. In the thief community, he was kind of known and him being found alive gave him the title "Phoenix", and his Halberd added the "White" before it. His name caught on through-out the rest of the population, not just through the thieves, but he became well known throughout the mercenary community as well.

[Bio is sloppily done, but was done at 1:46 AM.]


GH0STV

 

[dustyMTL]

Name: Dyzek “Dice” Carver

Origin of name: Dyzek meaning Lover of Earth // Dice originating from his passion of gambling and his last name Carver which he lives up to quite faithfully // Carver being the family name passed down to him and his family over the past few generations.

Race: Human Magi (Earth)

Physical description:

Height: 6’3

Weight: 225lbs

Tall and muscular, scar on his right cheek from where his father gashed him as a child. He has a medium length full dark brown beard. But the hair doesn’t grow in where he has his facial scar. Arm reach is about 75”. Big bulky hands with thick fingers. Heavy chest hair. Permanent Ink markings on the back of his neck symbolizing his Earth Magi status.


Abilities: Fantastic duel handed wielding of any two-handed weapons. Very adept with any one-handed weapons. Basic abilities with any arrow based weapons. If wielding a one-handed weapon Dyzek can easily wield a shield with his other hand. Dyzeks special Magi powers are his go to when in battle. He has mastered the Earth Magi over the years. And his skills in the craft run considerably deep. As he can control animals, insects and the actual physical earth beneath his feet and other surrounding earthly elements. Depending on the strength and aptitude of his attack there is a variation of symptoms or rest time between being able to use his abilities again.


Equipment: Feather Light steel breast plate which covers his torso and back, it is covered by a rugged leather coat which features several large pockets. He wears leather Gauntlets that cover his fat fingers up to several inches above his wrist. He wears fitted brown trousers, under which he has an extra layer of protection covering his shins and ankles. Hanging on his left side is his two-handed claymore sword that he’s had for more years then he can remember. It is pretty scuffed up, and he is due for another. Behind his right calf, he has a small dagger sheathed away under a small slit in his trousers. He also carries a small satchel which he carries extra supplies such as basic medicine and water and his Earth Magi book.

Backstory: Dyzek was born in Nasen into a Noble family. The Carvers are the only Noble family left in Nasen, as all the others have left due to the flooding that has been occurring over the past few years. His family does live up to its name as warriors in Nasen. They have always been the family that bested any others in duels or sparring. Dyzeks father was a great general and leader for the Kings army based in Suna. Now all but retired, Dyzeks father now lives alone in Nassen muddling over his past glory and drinking his days away at the local tavern. Dyzeks mother died when he was at the young age of 5, from the Bubonic Plague. It spread like wild fire back when the initial flooding started, and unfortunately no remedy was found until after she had passed. In consequence, this is when Dyzeks father began to become more disgruntled with life and began drinking more. It was in one of his drunken fits that he backhanded Dyzek in the face when he was only about 10 years of age. Leaving Dyzek scarred for life. In his early teens, Dyzek began playing dice, wagering food, or personal belongings until he reached the age of being allowed to manage his own money. At this point is when Dyzek truly began to have a “problem” And got the nick name “Dice” in consequence. However, he likes to tell people that the nick name came from dicing his opponents down. Either way, Dyzek did not have an easy up bringing due to all these circumstances. But has found a way to hone his anger and energy into a more positive outlook. Refining his skills as an Earth elemental Magi, and perfecting his skills with a sword. Dyzek has quickly made a name for himself in Nasen and across the Mainland. At the young age of 26 he has already lead many battle campaigns on neighboring barbarians and wild life settlements threatening local villagers. He leads any other warriors or mercenaries in the land at jousting and dueling. And has made quite a small fortune doing so. He has helped come up with ideas and solutions for barricading what remains of the city from more flooding, however no ideas seem to fix the problem permanently. But thanks to his ability to manipulate the earth he has been able to redirect the flow of water and construct temporary fortifications to prevent it from worsening. He has also began dabbling in some of the other elemental arts which he hopes to perfect over the course of time…

 

[Whisker]

Name: Yssith

Race: Drakken

Physical Description: Tall, slender, and boasting an extra set of head spikes, Yssith is your common Drakken. His scales are mostly a tawny brown from his time in the desert though they’re gradually changing to suit his new surroundings. His most intriguing feature is his bright orange eyes, a subtly different variety of color than you would find on most of his fellows. He’s relatively unmarked from battle, though he is currently missing a sizable chunk of his otherwise long tail.


Abilities: Reconnaissance, ranged, and hand-to-hand combat (in theory anyways).


Equipment:

Yssith wears a type of light armor that resembles the skin of a molting snake. It’s very light and flexible, but boasts a durability akin to that of a full set of plate armor. His shoulders are left exposed to reveal a very peculiar set of rune-inscribed bracers that appear so tight as if to be grafted onto his scales. In addition to the above, he carries a huge crossbow-repeater type weapon on a shoulder harness as well as a surprisingly plain sword upon his belt – a memento to an old friend.


Loadout:

· 50x Enchanted AOE Bolts.

· 20x Regular Bolts

· 5x Blinders


Other:


· Bandages

· Preserved food from his native continent

· Spare enchanting equipment

· A basic map of the mainland

· A small jar of butter – don’t judge.


Backstory:

Yssith was born in Zirka, an independent island off the coast of Vizishin Dumah. Zirka was a hostile, unforgiving place under constant threat of attack from roving bands of pirates and marauders. The island itself was already a bubbling hotbed of resentment by the time of his birth for it operated under a strict level of segregation. Humans, Dwarves, and Elves, though essential to the well-being of the community, were forced to live in trader slums off the docks and far away from the more reclusive Drakkens. While the latter were quick to rally in the event of attack, it remained true that the Drakkens suffered the least and had the fewest casualties with the strongest profit. By the time Yssith was a child, the only place on the entire island where all four could readily intersect was the Grand Market outside of the dock towns. It was here traders, merchants, bandits, guards, diplomats all came together to hawk their goods and frequent the taverns. Though he maintained his aloofness at first, he soon began to interact with others and led him to his first non-Drakken friend. The other boy was the son of a ship’s captain and was as intelligent as he was strong. He taught Yssith many things about the outside world, though Yssith could never beat him in a fight. The friendship came to an abrupt halt when Yssith was sent to Vizishin to follow in the steps of enchantment. He excelled at the art, but found his passion and satisfaction for it diminishing the longer he remained. Questions began to form. Questions that challenged the way things were. Many of his peers considered him eccentric, a dangerous oddity. He left Vizishin and returned to Zirka. Shortly after his return, he reestablished contact with his old friend - now a Captain in his own right. They agreed to sail together on the next tide, but what happened at sea would change his life forever.



Now, stranded on the Mainland, Yssith is determined to follow his own path even if it means his death in the process.

 

[Lekiel]

Name:

Regalia Skylark at your service! Eldest daughter of the House of Skylark! Or just Rei, if you wish.
​

Race:

Apparently my blood sparkles. What was that? You wanna see? No thanks, just take my word for it. Magi... duh..
​

Physical description:

Ah! Finally! An excuse to display my narcissism! Let's see... Regalia stands at a wondrous height of 5 feet 4 inches. Of slim and toned build, from a lifetime of running away from her handlers, she also has curves in all the right places... well used to. A diet of mostly fruit, berries, stale bread, twigs and the occasional mouthful of dirt doesn't help much at all. Why didn't Master Valnesh teach me to cook as well? Urgh! But I digress... Vivid sapphire eyes to chill your soul, a mane of long auburn hair framing high cheekbones and an exquisite narrow jawline complete her finer assets... Pardon? My weight? You're kidding right? You did not just ask that..! For research purposes? Fine... 121 lbs. I'm also in my mid-twenties, if you must know.
​

Abilities:

I sew. Surprise surprise! I'm darn good at it too. I can also look pretty menacing with this long dagger... here, watch... no? Well, excuse me... I can assure you I can at least fight of giant killer rabbits with it! Anything else? Ah yes. I am a water mage, how could I forget? I can freeze the very air in your lungs as we speak! Terrifying aye? Yeah... I was just kidding. Coolpun intended idea though, right? Master Valnesh often says I have great potential yada yada... my magic is too erratic, too little control... spell use highly volatile... I need to be more mana efficient blablabla... he doesn't deny I still get the job done though, hmpff!​

Equipment:

A long ornate dagger... t'was a gift from dearest mother to fend off rabbits and crooked bad men! Spellbook, traveling pack, sewing kit... lip balm... crushed beetlejuice eyeliner (its all the rage now, back home)... and this marvelous embroidered midnight blue mage robes which I made myself! I added a hood too.. look! Now I can pretend to be all mysterious heh! But wait! There's more! See this silver embroidery? Met an old Drakken on my way here. He did a little whimsy with his enchanting on it. Now, if you try to hit me, it channels my mana to make a sheet of crystal ice to soften the blow! Brilliant right?! It's almost as good as steel armor. I gotta see it coming though.​

Backstory:

Ah yes, story time! It was said that House Skylark was once amongst the most prominent Noble Houses in all of Nasen, back when our city was still known as the Crown Jewel of The King's Hold. That was what Pa used to say. Now, we are just a bunch of staunch traditionalists refusing to abandon a sinking ship; as mother puts it. Father refuses liquidate his businesses and leave like the rest of them. Mother says they'll be staying till the water is up to their noses. I guess when too many leave, there's a void in the market for people to service those that remain. Mother sent me off to be under Master Valnesh's tutelage when I was fourteen. It was clear that I was magiborn. Father threw a hissy fit when he found out of course. Arcane studies all the way at Elmas would mean I would have no time to learn his trade. Mother didn't want me to follow in his steps apparently, so she tricked him by saying I was going to stay with her relatives.

Long story short, I learned all Master Valnesh was supposed to teach me in twenty years in just under a decade. He called me in one day, told me about his adventuring days and how it was passed him. An old friend had come to him with an offer, but that old geezer had casually volunteered me instead. Without my permission I must add. Not that I minded though, I didn't want to return to Nasen to marry some half arsed noble boy (Ma told me Pa was planning an arranged marriage). So off I went, after a quick stop just enough to say farewell to Ma and Pa, I joined a caravan to Whardon. To be honest, the brevity of what was going on hasn't really caught up to me. Master Valnesh was dead serious when he spoke to me. I don't know what he sees in me, but this would not be the first time he has sent me on a task without much information, just to see how well I adapt. I just hope it won't be the last.​

 

[Vudukudu]

Name: Jerrick Stonesinger

Race: Dwarf

Physical description: Jerrick stands at a stout, Dwarven 4'9. His hair is raven black, kept long and intricately braided near his shoulders. His beard is thick and woven into three equally spaced braids reaching down to his collarbone. His eyes are a dull brown and not particularly attention drawing, but they've been compared to that of an angry bull when he chooses to express himself.

Abilities: Jerrick is an unconventional combatant among dwarves. He fancies himself to be a "Knight-killer" and forgoes heavy arms and armor in favor of close range weapons - after all, a longsword, great axe, spear, or halberd are useless against a foe that has gotten close, and Jerrick's small Dwarvish frame lets him get close without sacrificing killing blows. Besides his talent for brutalizing armored opponents, Jerrick is a supremely skilled thief and has been said to wear the shadows, not walk in them.

Equipment: Jerrick carries three weapons - a flanged mace, a short sword, and a straight, pointed dagger designed for puncturing armor or slipping through cracks. He also carries a round shield, useful both for defense against archers and deflecting melee blows. For armor, he wears a pristinely forged Dwarven mail vest over boiled leather.

Backstory: Jerrick grew up the son of an exile. His father, a resident alien in the human capital, was exiled for allegedly stealing from a lord. Jerrick was raised by his mother, who actively fostered his hate for lordly types and their knightly enforcers. He is both a thief and an assassin, with a reputation for doing favors for common folk and dispatching their oppressors.

His wide reputation as a folk hero, coupled with his almost supernatural evasiveness, has made him both politically and practically untouchable in public. A number of human lords quietly pay him to continue his work, chiefly for their own political ends. The Stonesinger is, in many circles, considered one of the best duelists of the modern age, among men, elves, or dwarves.

 

[Collidias Rex]

Name: Alaeta “Helgut-Cuveae” Doriele. {Ah-lay-tah hell-gut coo-vay door-ee-el}


Nickname: "Helgut". Distinctly not-Elvish. It confuses people. Which is funny.


Name Origin:

Spoiler

• Alaeta - Elvish. Rumored to stem from Elvish "moon", but it's plausible that the Elves took their word for "moon" from another race's "Alta". A common boy's name and uncommon girl's name. Not considered to be aesthetically adventurous due to its simplicity of the symbolism, but does not run the risk of being percieved as pretentious or silly.

• Doriele - Clan Name. House Doriele is relatively large. It's more than likely that several elves named "Alaeta Doriele" exist.

• Helgut - Archaic Dwarvish. "Crashing", "smashing" or "impacting", especially when this collision occurs between objects or individuals of greatly varying social status. Effectively "to foolishly crash into something more important than yourself." No longer used in everyday speech - sometimes employed by nobles condescendingly. Alaeta Doriele adopted it humorously to reflect his habit of hunting large beasts.

• Cuveae - Elvish. Literally "Sweeping, gentle river", but the term is used rather broadly. Elves tend to speak fondly of rivers, after all.

-----

Race: Harnumeni Elf, born and raised in the south of Harnumen.

-----
Physical Description:

Helgut stands at six-foot-three tall (6’3”). Typical of an elf, Helgut is small in frame – but his body is muscular and compact rather than slim and elegant – a jarring juxtaposition compared to his smooth and flawless face and his long, silky hair. He likens himself to the tiger – while typically clothed in a beautiful, shimmering coat, should you strip the fur, one finds a discomforting mass of corded muscle bundled tight under a stretched suit of skin.

His hair is a vivid red in colour – a much deeper hue than the usual human redhead. A pair of thin braids hang on either side of his head, draping just over his ears and framing his face. The remainder of his hair is gathered and tied into a ponytail behind his head, reaching just past his shoulders. His eyes are a bright hazel, bordering on yellow with large irises. Eyebrows are thin and red, curving down at the tips – a smooth, neat line sweeping across and down. Characteristic of an elf, his face is thin, narrowing to thin, pale lips and a sharp, shallow chin.

He wears a custom-tailored undersuit of silk, separated into pieces at joints to provide unimpeded movement and fitted tight to his body to minimize air resistance. Over this, he wears a simple suit of studded leather. He bears a gauntlet on his right arm – fingerless, steel, Elven craftsmanship forged to a fine streamlined design. A stream of short silk tassels hang from his left bracer, trailing behind him as he moves and fluttering in the wind. The silk is all-but soaked red throughout – though patches of white still show up from time to time.

Perhaps not as aerodynamic as the rest of his outfit and definitely standing out, he wears a mantle of wolf pelt across his shoulders, a greying white occasionally showing between vast swathes of blood stains.

-----

Abilities:

Helgut is a skilled user of Canae Raye - an Elven martial art mimicking the sudden strike of the arrow while emulating the great wolf's hunt. While many hunters rely on a quiet approach to catch the target unaware, Canae Raye relies on speed rather than stealth. Canae Raye embodies the creed of "the best defense is a good offense", heavily utilizing shock, awe and brutality as a core principles. Helgut is skilled in maximising his momentum for every blow, and his specialty is landing vicious, lacerating blows from a full-speed charge, though he makes an excellent opportunistic fighter and is capable of swiftly exploiting distracted enemies. Helgut has an astounding foot speed for even an elf, which makes him an excellent candidate for Canae Raye.

Helgut is an adrenaline junkie, and his adrenaline lends him a small semblance of control over his natural magic. Helgut loves to run, and when nearing his top foot speed he can release his magical energy to briefly reduce or intensify gravity's effect on him - floating for a moment and bounding as if he were weightless, or pressing him harder toward the earth to increase the traction of every step, allowing him to move beyond his normal top speed. His control ebbs and wanes depending on his speed and momentum. If his subconscious feels like he's moving fluidly he retains this control - but if he fumbles or crashes, his momentum breaks.

In addition to his Canae Raye, Helgut has some skill with throwing weapons, carrying several braces of throwing knives he can use to maim and distract his foes.

Finally - he has a supernatural knack for detecting valuable objects within a few feet of him.

-----

Equipment:

• Helgut carries two Elven trench knives - each a dagger-blade attached to claw-tipped brass knuckles. The blade allows for stabbing and slashing, whereas the claws allow for puncturing and tearing.

• He also carries three braces of throwing knives, fifteen total. One brace on each hip and one attached to his chestpiece.

• He carries a single Katar strapped to his leg just in case he needs to stab something really, really hard.

• He wears a suit of studded leather armor and a wolf pelt draped across his shoulders. He wears a single armored gauntlet on his right arm, Elven make. His left arm is wrapped in some form of silk drapery, seemingly serving no practical purpose.

• Detachable cleats. Detatchable metal frames that Helgut can fasten to his boots. The studded underside of the frame digs into the ground and provides extra traction when running or climbing.

• Waterskin.

• Pouch full of Junefae – a sweet marsh-growing fruit rich in natural sugar.

• Flint and Steel.

• A silver choker embedded with a small pink gemstone.

-----

Backstory:

Spoiler

There’s a tale that comes from the Malendas – and that’s enough of an oddity by its own accord. But perhaps to call it a tale would be deceptive. The collection of rumours and accounts is known as Raylmeni Faradae - “The Hunter’s Delta”. What began as a singular unified effort broke down, branching into many veins and streams all competing for space. In the end, one stream flowed forth where the others trickled away into nothing.


It all began as a hunting expedition out of Halanarn, but even further back than that – it was a push for expansion. Provisioning was contracted to a merchant guild, and in turn subcontracted to several bands of hunters. Normally a single hunter band would be enough for a merchant company, but this particular agreement was made under the pretence of great success, and had high expectations. Four hundred men … just how much meat could four-hundred hunters acquire across ten months in the wilderness? Enough to feed an ambitious expansion into the Malendas? It was assumed so.


Sixteen bands of hunters – a total of 412 men – ventured out into the Malendas. They brought tents, food and drink, construction supplies – these hunters expected to be gone for a long time. Such sacrifices were often made in the pursuit of fame and fortune.


The settlement site had been mapped out, and cartographers carefully divided and sectioned off areas of the Western Forests surrounding the future city’s site. Each surrounding region was assigned to a single hunter band. Hunting attempts served a twofold purpose – culling of dangerous wildlife, and providing a source of locally-sourced food. Together, the hunters would form a “protective ring” of sorts around early settlers. Clever plan – horrible execution.


The intention had been for the Hunters to cooperate – but the merchant guild, as the middlemen between the hunters and those organizing expansion efforts – sought to further monetize. After all – the more meat their hunters could produce, the more they would be paid. And so, hunters were to be paid in accordance to the quantity of meat provided – and how much they provided when compared to other hunter bands.


Nobody knows how it all started. The first few weeks went by without hitch, and every hunter band produced the settlers a shipment of meat and furs every four days. The first sign of upset was barely noticed – merely a bloodied group of hunters arriving with a smaller-than-usual shipment. The next sign was a different group of hunters arriving bloodied – and these with a larger shipment. The connection wasn’t made until it was too late.


Over the next three weeks shipment sizes started wildly varying. Some bands arrived with epic hauls, yet four days later they would turn up with next to no shipment to speak of. Questions arose, but the hunters all but refused to answer. In fact, the hunters had grown very quiet all of a sudden, as if they dreaded the prospect of social interaction.


It was two weeks later that the first shipment was skipped. One of the sixteen bands simply failed to show up. Four days later, they failed to show up yet again – and four days after that. They had simply … stopped. One week after, the second band dropped out of contact.


And the trend continued. Every week or two, another band would drop out of contact. The settlement leaders begged for an explanation from the other bands, but the only explanation they were given were shrugs and ambiguous grunts.


Paranoia grew within the settlement. Some thought the hunters were being slaughtered by the beasts that roamed the forest, whereas others feared a vengeful forest guardian was wiping out their hunters. Some even suspected the hunters were killing one another. Some held out hope – but most saw their source of produce fading away, and fled back to Halanarn before the problem grew.


Some remained optimistic – they were wrong. The bands kept dropping out of contact, smaller shipments were delivered by fewer hunters who seemed to have grown even further from social contact. Something had gone horribly wrong, and the hunters had refused to explain. Settlement leaders were pushed to the edge – that was it. The expansion attempt simply wasn’t sustainable.


Only three bands remained. Upon the next day of delivery, the hunters were informed. The expansion had failed – they were to pack up and head back to Halanarn. Two bands silently ignored the instruction and returned wordlessly. One hunter of the third band spoke up for the first time in weeks. This hunter was Alaeta.


“We are not finished yet.”


With that, he returned to his band.


Having packed all salvageable materials on their cart, the last remaining settlers awaited the following day for the hunters to arrive. The hunters – true to their displayed ignorance – did not turn up. The settlers returned to Halanarn without them.


The hunters were thought lost – claimed by madness, or some wicked magic perhaps. Nobody was sure, but elders in Halanarn were troubled by the settlers’ reports. The settlement site and its vicinity were designated dangerous areas, and any Elf with sense about her would not stray into this place, for fear of whatever darkness lurked there.


One month later, a single band of hunters returned to Halanarn wearing enormous, proud smiles on their faces. Where their ranks had once been thirty-five strong, there were now but six – and leading them was Alaeta. He marched into the city, went straight for the merchants who had hired them, and with great pride and confidence, he announced:


“We have won. The Reward is ours.”


The merchants were perplexed and afraid. Calling the city’s guards, they pried: What had they won? What was the competition? Alaeta appeared perplexed momentarily, before telling the merchants that the other bands were dead. They had killed them – that meant they won, didn’t it?


Alaeta and his band were swiftly ascertained by the city guard and brought before the elders for questioning. Something was most definitely wrong with the hunters, and they were taken – under guard – to healers.


Some days later as his recovery began, Alaeta recalled what he could. The hunters, while initially cooperative between bands, soon grew to be competitive. They knew there was some kind of reward – but Alaeta could not remember what it was, though he knew that his fellows could not remember this reward either. They simply knew that there was a reward – and they wanted it. Competition began without much bloodshed – bands would infiltrate another band’s designated area and poach kills from their allies’ prey stock. But their allies had thought the same, and they began doing similar – poaching from their neighbours. They all wanted the reward, elusive and ambiguous as it was.


Poaching continued until two bands met – one infiltrating the territory of another. Blood was shed in the name of The Reward. Two died, many more were wounded. The violence spread, and it escalated – what had begun as a confrontation between two clans grew to be standard over the course of two weeks, and the bands would attack one another on sight. Alaeta recalled that they even turned to hunting other bands, disregarding their standard prey in favour of eradicating their kin – their competition for The Reward. They grew paranoid, restless – their camp had remained in once place for so long, it was only a matter of time before they were discovered. They began roaming – left their territory in favour of temporary campsites, constantly on the move under the cover of darkness. They would light fire only in caves or cover, in places where they would not be spotted. Their once-friends would find them and kill them in their sleep. They would try – but they would fail. They would not surrender The Reward.


The situation only drew to a close some days before Alaeta returned. The enemy launched a raid on his camp while he was busy scouting, and he returned to scene of bloodshed and destruction. Catching the last of the enemy fleeing, Alaeta and his band followed – keeping behind and sticking to the shadows, trailing the enemy all the way back to camp. In the dead of the night, they attacked – butchered their kin to the last man until their band alone remained. Victorious, they returned to Halanarn, expecting … expecting something for their deeds.


It took two weeks for Alaeta to recover from whatever plagued his mind – but even then, something remained. He had spent too long in the area, and something had tainted him. A craving, a desire for something he couldn’t rationalize. While this came as troubling news to the Elders, the taint did not seem to drastically harm Alaeta’s mind. While he did display curious and unusual cravings and jealousy from time to time, these behaviours were not intense enough to warrant great concern. And perhaps even odder – those who resided within the settlement site seemed wholly unaffected.


It was only fifteen years later that the cause – or, partial cause – was discovered. A human exploration team stumbled across the old site, following the advice of an earth magi and cartographer. Taking their mining equipment to the immediate area of the settlement site, they found a grand trove mere feet beneath the surface – an ancient structure, buried from a lost time. And not an ordinary structure, but a treasury – a vault of coin and gemstones, items of immense value. The settlement had been sitting on a vast fortune the entire time. While the magical root of the incident has never been discovered, it is theorized that the “reward" spoken of was tied to this discovered vault – perhaps explaining why the settlers did not grow jealous and aggressive as the hunters did. While the hunters resided in the area around the vault, the settlers slept immediately above it – close at hand. Whatever magic affected the hunters, they were possessed by their lack of the vault – whereas the settlers had the vault nearby the entire time, and hence had nothing to crave.


Alaeta ended up venturing out into the wilderness again – as is customary of a hunter – and spent many years more hunting. He kept the company of his band – even with the foul magic reduced to but a sliver inside him, no other hunters would trust him. His former band found themselves in similar positions, and resigned to travelling together. They had fought together, hunted together, and they had all shared in the cravings. More than that – they all were left with a fragment of the craving. Bitter at the cold reception they received in Halanarn, the band roamed free in the wilderness, travelling the lands and hunting their prey. They sold meat, hides and animal bones at settlements where they could, and occasionally took contracts on fiercer beasts, making coin from local law enforcement. This continued for nine more years, all until the group met a caravan of travelling dwarves while up north. The dwarves had need of food and hides, but carried little coin. The dwarves did, however, carry a small pile of cut gemstones and fine trinkets. Alaeta and his band surveyed the goods, and each of them felt it drawing them forth – the craving. Each of the band was drawn to the same piece – a box. A small, carved box. They quarrelled over it – much to the confusion of the merchant. While the hunters all felt the craving, it was not powerful enough to turn them against one another this time. They settled the matter civilly and drew lots for the box. The winner took his prize – the remainders took their selection of other gemstones or trinkets to the value of their hides and meat. As soon as the winner placed his hand upon the box, he turned it, flipped it, and immediately struck it against a nearby rock. Again, and again, and again until the box fell apart. A sliver of pale blue crystal had been hidden inside the box’s outer wall.


And so it became apparent that the remaining sliver of craving had some use – a supernatural knack for appraisal and identifying value. Dwarves – being the resourceful types – saw potential in this talent, and the merchant took the hunters on. The men would work for him as appraisal experts and he would train them in gemcraft – and they would double as his caravan’s guards with their hunting skill.


Alaeta remained with the Dwarven merchants for another ten years – a time wherein he earned the title “Helgut” from a visiting Dwarven noble. It was a jab, one meant in good faith – the Elf was unrelenting in his bartering, showing no tact nor respect for the man’s class. While the Dwarf would normally find such a demeanour insulting, it was somehow … endearing, coming from the supposedly haughty elves. Alaeta took it in stride.


But his work under a merchant grew stale, and Helgut began yearning once again for the hunt. Unfortunately, hunting would only net him so much coin as a wanderer – his stops and stays were sporadic. He was a traveller, after all. Unable to manage a steady job, he needed a job to earn coin quickly. Fortunately, in his travels with his band, the group of them had taken their fair share of protection and patrol jobs, and Helgut had some experience with fighting banditry. Same old hunt, but with new prey – that didn’t sound so bad to him.


The rest is history – he began hiring himself out as a mercenary and building a reputation for himself. The “fastest elf alive” – could move fast as a horse and take the head off one in a single blow from full speed.