Jump to content

Burger Warrior

Member Since 07 May 2011
Offline Last Active Today, 07:14 PM

Topics I've Started

Gavia Saunio

02 July 2017 - 09:10 PM



Gavia Saunio


Full Name: Gavia Saunio

Aliases: Gavin Saunus


Sex: Female

Race: Achaean

Birthplace: Arcadia


Affinity: Lightning

Deity: Nemesis

Magic: Demonic

Faction: Imperial Legion (Skirmisher) - Sagittarium


Talents: Education (Old Achaean/High Imperial), Forbidden Lore, Marksmanship, Subtlety, Diplomacy



Strength: 5

Agility: 5

Constitution: 4

Perception: 7

Intelligence: 8

Spirit: 10

Luck: 3


Appearance: A little on the short side of things in many ways - her height and her hair, namely - Gavia is good at being unnoticed simply because there is little about her that really sticks out, beyond her somewhat infamous last name. It also helps that she isn’t particularly shapely in any way, allowing her to blend in with other younger Legionnaires pretty effectively.


Inventory: Legionary Pack

-1 full set of Legionary armor (lorica segmentata; includes helmet and sandals)

-1 set of simple clothing

-1 steel gladius sword

-1 recurve bow

-30 steel-tipped arrows

-1 soulstone (empty)

-1 wooden stake

-1 set of eating utensils and small bowl

-1 set of personal hygiene utensils

-water and military rations



Growing up to a relatively influential noble family in Arcadia, Gavia Saunio had few friends besides her older brother, Verno. Both were fascinated by the darker side of their home’s history, delving into it voraciously. It was unfortunate they were so good at covering their tracks, for it was this interest of theirs that led to Verno’s death and Gavia’s life-long misery.


A few dark discoveries and the eruption of a small rebellion found Verno heading there to… ‘interven’, so he told Gavia. A few days later Agnus the Butcher and a contingent of his Legionnaires made a brief stop to drop off Verno’s head, labeling him a mage and traitor to the Empire. Appalled, but unwilling to speak out publicly, Gavia returned to her studies with newfound vigor… and discovered some hidden notes her brother had left.


He really had been a mage. Well, in a way… but even with this dark secret revealed, Gavia felt no disgust or hatred for her brother; no, it was that damned commander...


Figuring this was her chance to get revenge for Verno’s untimely demise, the younger Saunio followed right in her brother’s footsteps, forming a contract with the demon lady Nemesis to receive unnatural powers.


Taking as many old scrolls and books as she could with her, Gavia ran far away from home, hiding away in Coronaria for a time as she studied, prepared… and finally searched for whom Agnus commanded. It did not take long to discover the regiment, and with little work Gavia managed to make a new identity for herself as she joined up with the Legionnaires as a Saggitarium.


It’s been… interesting, pretending to be a man - not to mention one of lower birth - but Gavia has had the drive to keep going… and keep getting closer to her brother’s murderer.


She’s kept soulstone close by just for him.


Campaign History:




-Saunio Family (Believe she’s dead)

-Her brother, Verno Saunio (Deceased)

-Agnus the Butcher (Superior officer and the aim of her vengeance)



Gavia is easily described as ‘emo’ in modern terms thanks to her fascination with the dark arts, demons, and magic… and with how quiet she tends to be, bottling up her emotions and thoughts. She is also extremely determined, what with the memory of her brother’s severed head fresh in her mind almost all the time… and with her goal so very close. It’s actions like those committed by Agnus that have led her to believe there is no form of balance or real justice in the world, which is ultimately what led her to actively signing an agreement with a demon lord.




Health: 20/20

Conditions: n/a

Korvarl Silvershield

01 June 2017 - 12:56 PM





Korvarl Silvershield



Full Name: Korvarl Silvershield

Aliases: The Sharp Hammer


Sex: Male

Race: Mountain Dwarf

Birthplace: Dvergar Gate (well, thereabouts, anyway)


Affinity: Lightning

Deity: Tyr

Faction: Formerly Iron Gauntlet, now none


Talents: Dwarven Blacksmithing, Martial Combat, Intimidation, Diplomacy, Knowledge (Dwarven)



Strength: 9

Agility: 5 - 1 = 4

Constitution: 7 + 2 = 9

Perception: 5

Intelligence: 8

Spirit: 5

Luck: 3


Appearance: Short and stout, even amongst other dwarves, when Korvarl’s body is revealed from under its armor one can easily make out his heavily-muscled build. However, despite looking like nothing more than a common bruiser or mercenary, it’s impossible to ignore the glint of intelligence in his sharp eyes.


Inventory: Fortune Hunter

  • 1 full set of padded clothing/armor (gambeson, pants, and skull cap)

  • 1 full set of steel plate mail

  • 1 iron tower shield

  • 1 full set of simple clothing

  • 1 brown traveling cloak

  • 1 iron hand ax

  • 1 torch

  • 1 small knife

  • 1 map of the area around the Dvergar Gate

  • 1 clean bandage

  • Flint and tinder

  • Water and rations


Korvarl Silvershield was a steadfast and trusty dwarf since he could hold an axe, serving his family and friends faithfully for a good century at the Dvergar Gate. However, he was finally nudged into becoming one of the Iron Gauntlet’s Enforcers; an easy enough task with his nigh-spotless track record. However, as an Enforcer he was rarely doing any guarding. To test his loyalty and abilities, he was in charge of disrupting Dwarven business on the surface of Midgard that refused to obey the Iron Gauntlet’s commandments.


At first, Korvarl went about his duties with gusto, proud of his work in keeping law and order. However, sharp as he was, the dwarf soon noticed the negative effect his orders were having on the lives of others. Having believed for a long time his work - his purpose in life, even - was to protect and guide others to make their existences easier, the relatively young Silvershield soon realized his orders were contradicting everything he believed in.


Thus, he turned against the Iron Gauntlet - not publicly, of course - and began to help those that broke their laws. Conveniently allowing them to escape whenever he was sent to quash a humble blacksmith’s business and preventing the discovery of others when he could. However, for all his hard work, it was only inevitable the Gauntlet began to find holes in their operations, pocketbooks… and in Korvarl’s actions. His fate was finally set in stone when he was caught in the act of planning another rogue dwarf’s escape.


Dragged back to the Dvergar Gate in chains, he was publicly judged, dishonored before his guild and clan, and hurled out into the wilds of Northrim. Banished from his home, Korvarl Silvershield refused found himself at a loss with all that he knew taken from him. His lack of ties to anyone in the Iron Gauntlet meant he could no longer help ‘rogue’ dwarves nearly as well as before, and his newly-shaved beard left him with no respect amongst his kin.


Feeling distinctly empty and hopeless, he’s wandered westward in hope of some way to either regain his former status to more effectively help others… or perhaps find a new path.


Campaign History:




Clan Silvershield (Disgraced)

The Iron Gauntlet (Disgraced)



Stubborn, stern, and very much an intermediate, Korvarl has spent a great deal of his life guiding and guarding others. Even his brief stint as an Enforcer of the Iron Gauntlet couldn’t change this in him, though it did encourage him to get a little more emotionally-invested in people. One could see this as a weakness, though, as it has led to his heart bleeding ever since he was banished from his clan and kicked out of the Gauntlet.


Currency: 25 gold, 40 silver, 35 copper

Erik Fyodorov

20 May 2017 - 06:34 PM

Erik Fyodorov



Full Name: Erik Fyodorov

Aliases: None, as of yet.


Sex: Male

Race: Werewolf (Nordling)

Birthplace: Northrim, Endibraut Hall


Affinity: Air

Deity: Odin

Faction: None


Talents: Survival, Martial Combat, Balanced Soul, Charisma



Strength: 8 + 2 = 10

Agility: 5 + 2 = 7

Constitution: 8 + 2 = 10

Perception: 5 + 3 = 8

Intelligence: 5

Spirit: 8

Luck: 3


Appearance: Erik is of average height for a young Nordling man, with a well-muscled and somewhat heavy-set build. His sky blue eyes seem to shine out from behind a short but thick beard, one that most of his face’s strong features. His golden hair flows down a little past his shoulders, often left undone as Fyodorov has little time or will to bother adjusting his locks beyond the use of sweatbands and loose braids to keep it out of his sky blue eyes.


His wolf shape is particularly tall, taking after a timberwolf in the pattern and color of its coat.


Inventory: (Fortune Hunter)

-1 full set of simple, distinctly loose clothing

-1 wolf pelt

-1 iron sword

-1 iron axe

-1 torch

-1 rough map of Northrim

-1 clean bandage

-Flint and tinder

-Water and rations

-Iron pendant in the shape of an anvil



Born and raised by a warrior father and smithy mother in Endibraut Hall, Erik grew to embrace both sides of his heritage. Even as he trained to survive the heat of battle, he assembled his own equipment within the heat of his mother’s forge. However, as Erik aged his passion for crafting rapidly lessened as his father weakened, urging the young nord to take up his old man’s mantle. Fyodorov took it a step further, however, as he pushed himself to take up the mantle of a berserker to honor his dying parent.


But not just any animal spirit would do in this endeavor. No, Erik choose to wield the power of a wolf in his sudden quest for glory.


This inevitably proved to be his undoing; or rather, the undoing of his foolish ambitions. Leading the charge of his fellow warriors from the front every chance he had, Erik found himself relying more and more on the spirit of his wolfskin for power… until, finally, it was too much. In the heat of a particularly bloody conflict, Fyodorov changed before the eyes of his brothers and sisters. While the newly-cursed werewolf carved a swathe through the Chaos hordes they had been best by, Erik awoke to find himself cast away by his friends. His mother, however, had one last ounce of wisdom to leave him before she was forced to turn away.


His father had died with honor, and Erik had never needed to let go out and try to win him more, or even go out with glory himself. Even though his quest was, ultimately, a failure, he still had the rest of his life to live as he wished, and while he was cursed… Erik soon found his ‘other self’ was a surprisingly meek and evasive creature which evaded conflict even when he was certain he turned in a rather popular place that ought to have suffered easily at the hands of a werewolf. This guess has emboldened him to enjoy the company of others often, Fyodorov confident that they have nothing to fear in him, and he in them.


Campaign History:







Quicker to laugh and sing than to fight, Erik is a carefree spirit who still offers his praises to Odin even after falling victim to… well, what others might say were Odin’s machinations, but Erik feels were his own. Eager to explore the world and leave friends in his wake, Fyodorov is loathe to be left alone and thus often seeks traveling companions of any shape or size.


Currency: 10 gold, 75 copper

Hollae, Fury of the Forest

20 May 2017 - 06:33 PM

Hollae, Fury of the Forest



Full Name: Hollae

Aliases: Fury of the Forest


Sex: Female

Race: Dryad (Oread)

Birthplace: Northrim, Mimameidr


Affinity: Earth

Deity: Heimdall

Magic: Spiritual

Faction: None


Talents: Marksmanship, Martial Combat, Intimidation, Survival



Strength: 7

Agility: 4

Constitution: 7

Perception: 10 - 1 = 9

Intelligence: 5

Spirit: 5 + 2 = 7

Luck: 4


Appearance: Hollae is pretty tall for a dryad - that is, about the moderate height of a human woman - and surprisingly well-muscled for a member of her species as well. Her fair, elven features are typically plastered in some form of confident smirk. Her shoulder-length green hair is, more often than not, tied back into a loose ponytail to keep her vision clear, and this sort of practical thought is put into her clothing as well as the features she takes on as she becomes more tree-like.


Completely shape-shifted, Hollae takes the form of a tall and somewhat broad pine tree, but short of that she prioritizes vital organs with her bark-like skin, and grows what is best described as a skirt of needles with which to pluck and hurl at opponents or fashion into makeshift arrows for her bow, with a bit of work.


Inventory: (Fortune Hunter)

-1x full set of leather armor

-1x full set of simple, distinctly leaf-like clothing (short, sleeveless dress and fur boots)

-1x leaf-like traveling cloak

-1x iron-tipped spear

-1x bow

-20x pine-like arrows (noticeably lacking iron tips)

-1 map of Mimameidr and some of its surroundings

-1 clean bandage

-Water and rations



Fairly young for one of her kind, Hollae has seen few winters; partly thanks to spending a fair few of her younger years in Mimameidr’s ever-warm heart. Trained by other Oreades from pretty much the beginning to make use of her abilities for combat, Hollae has grown into a formidable fighter, seeing much battle against the Chaos races in particular. However, her lust for fighting began to worry some of her peers, especially as she grew to care less for the spirits - and even safety - of the forest in favor of smiting as many orcs and goblins as she could on and off the battlefield. They managed to convince her that maybe some time away from Mimameidr would be best for her, making her promise not to return until she managed some self-control and proper respect for the spirits of nature.


Campaign History:







Naive, passionate, and short-tempered pretty much sum Hollae up. She tends to fight first and ask questions later, and has little respect for people who put diplomacy or well-thought strategy over action.


Currency: 12 gold, 20 silver, 30 copper

Lydus Sticky-Fingers

19 May 2017 - 07:29 PM

Lydus Sitcky-Fingers



Full Name: Lydus Sticky-Fingers

Aliases: Rat, Slick, etc.


Sex: Male

Race: Human (Achaean)

Birthplace: Edrimark


Affinity: Earth

Deity: Olympians

Faction: Venator


Talents: Finesse Combat, Subtlety, Thievery, Venator Herbalism, Marksmanship



Strength: 3

Agility: 10

Constitution: 3

Perception: 9

Intelligence: 8

Spirit: 4

Luck: 5


Appearance: A small man, Lydus is simply not pleasing to the eye. His scruffy face seems to be permanently afflicted by a five o’clock shadow, and his thin, wiry form is almost always hunched over. Fortunately, more often than not, he tends to have his Venator cloak on, keeping most of his body out of sight. His sharp facial features are equally obscured by his rough pitch-black beard - if it can be called such - and framed by his thick, ratty, shoulder-length hair of similar color... that is, when its not further decorated with grime, grease, and dirt.


For all this, his eyes seem to shine keenly with a deep cunning, the dark orbs peering out from beneath his thin eyebrows and soaking up every detail in his surroundings.


Inventory: Venator Pack

-1 deepsilver chain shirt

-1 set of leather armor

-1 set of simple clothing

-1 steel sickle

-1 crossbow

-20 crossbow bolts

-5 crossbow bolts

-1 silver dagger

-1 blue cloak

-1 silver Venator brooch

-1 silver ring with a sapphire set on it (deeefinitely not stolen from a fine-looking noble lady)

-Flint and tinder

-Potion supplies

-3 clean bandages

-2 healing ointment

-2 sense-enhancing potions

-1 strength-enhancing potion

-1 anti-lycanthropy potion

-Water and rations



From a young age, Lydus Sticky-Fingers was raised on the streets of fine Edrimark, struggling to survive by any means necessary. While he often claims loudly he was related to some nobility there, there is no proof of it… and far more evidence of him learning to steal to get along near the beginning of his life. He ended up growing up with a whole gang of similarly-aged boys, all working together to scrounge what they could and make ends meet. It seemed like a grand old time for a while, and they all grew fairly close…


But, as these things go, they went too far and caught too much attention. Their hideout was discovered, most of them were cornered… and by that time, they were old enough that Lydus got to watch many of his friends - his adopted family - get hanged for a lengthy list of crimes. He, at the time, figured he was lucky enough to escape.


These days, though, he occasionally wonders if it would’ve been better if he’d taken one of their places.


At any rate, seeing as the city was still on alert for fugitive members of the gang, Lydus decided to learn the valuable lesson of living to fight another day. Slipping out of the city by night, he stole a horse and made his way… elsewhere. He had no map or guide but the road to lead him along… all the way to Castle Greywatch. It was here, in the decrepit headquarters of the Empire’s monster hunters, that Sticky-Fingers found a new family, and a new way of life. Sort of.


He quickly caught onto the more slippery ways of the Venatori, showing a great proficiency for traps and ambushes, recalling old tricks from his past that seemed to work well enough on monsters… most of the time. Lydus can never forget the times his cleverness was subverted by the raw bestial cunning of some monsters; and the price his companions have paid for it.


However, Lydus feels the Venatori is really the only place he can be, and thus he’s stuck around. As quick as he is to exploit others and leave towns with more loot than was offered, Sticky-Fingers does his damnedest to watch out for the organization that’s given him some form of purpose.


Campaign History:







Lydus is rude, blunt, and a kleptomaniac. He isn’t exactly friend-making material, and he doesn’t make it apparent he wants to make friends, anyway. Puppets and goons, sure, but he’s below everyone else. That’s where it’s easiest to cut their purses…


However, deep down he’s scarred by watching many of his old playmates get hanged, and a few pals he made amongst the Venatori falling to vicious monsters. He has, for lack of a better term, survivor’s guilt. It has, at times, nearly driven him to better his ways… but by that point he’s drunk his sorrows under and gone back to picking pockets.


Currency: 20 gold coins, 35 silver coins, 35 copper coins