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Alec Syrion

12 September 2017 - 05:25 PM

Here's a knight.


* One question, Wolfy: I'm having difficulty deciding on which combat skill to give him.


My idea for him is that, rather than the 'standard' knightly hack-n-slash, he fights in a manner a bit more akin to fencing.


The focus on, quick, light cuts and thrusts (i.e. speed) would suggest Finesse Combat. Also, he would often fight dual-wielding a dagger in his off-hand, and I'm not sure whether that would fall under "unconventional and sometimes underhanded methods".


On the other hand, Noble combat explicitly mentions dueling, something he is meant to be very good at.


Any opinion? (If I went with Finesse Combat, I'd probably switch one point of Strength into Agility.)




Alec Syrion


Full Name: Sir Alexandre Syrion

Aliases: Alec, Alec the Acrobat (derogatory), Alec the Bladedancer (either derogatory or admiring, depending on the speaker), Alec the Duelist


Sex: Male

Race: Human (Achæan)

Birthplace: Illikon, Achæan Empire


Affinity: Earth

Deity: Athena, Ares, Nike

Faction: Achæan Empire


Talents: (Noble/Finesse) Combat*, Acrobatics, Education (Common Imperial), Balanced Soul



Strength: 8

Agility: 8

Constitution: 5

Perception: 6

Intelligence: 7

Spirit: 6

Luck: 2



Fairly tall, at 5'10'', Alec is well-built—if slightly on the leaner side. His somewhat boyish features are a little on the thin side, and overall quite handsome. A vertical scar marks the right side of his face—cutting straight down through his eyebrow before continuing for a short ways below the eye, although sparing the eye itself—lending a bit of a rakish cast to his features. His naturally wavy hair is a deep, dark brown, though slight coppery glints can be seen in it in the proper light; he keeps it at a short-to-middling length. His eyes are a clear gray.


He wears a long sleeved shirt, and pants, of silver-trimmed midnight-blue cloth, and black leather boots. Over the shirt he wears a black gambeson; and over the gambeson he wears a long-sleeved shirt of chainmail; the mail hangs nearly to his knees, and is split front and back below the waist for horse-riding. Over the armor he wears a thin, long-sleeved, silver-trimmed midnight-blue surcoat bearing his family's coat of arms: a rampant, copper-red enfield on a silver shield. Black leather greaves protect his shins, and he wears black leather gloves that each have a patch of chainmail sewn into them to protect the backs of his hands. He also wears a relatively open steel helmet.


He wears a silver signet ring bearing his family's seal—although he most often wears it on a chain around his neck, and not on his finger.


His primary weapon is a long, slender, elegant sidesword. In addition, he carries a long-bladed parrying dagger, and a small steel buckler that can be carried on his belt when he’s not using it.


His horse is a large draft-cross mare named Lily: black with a white splotch on her forehead.



(Nobleman Pack)

   • Clothing

   • Steel chainmail shirt

   • Leather armor (greaves)

   • Surcoat of house colors

   • Steel sidesword

   • Steel parrying dagger

   • Water and Rations

   Armor: chainmail-backed leather gloves, steel helmet

   • Small steel buckler

   • Silver signet ring


OTHER POSSESSIONS: Black draft-cross mare.



Born in Illikon, the sole son and heir of the Syrion family, knighthood was Alec's birthright—and expected of him. His father even managed to get him a pageship, and subsequent squireship, in Gryphon Roost with the prestigious Kallistos family.


However, he never took any of this for granted. Being a rather new noble family—his grandfather having been a cataphract in the Legions before he was knighted for heroic efforts in combat—some of the other, much older noble families looked down on him and his family, which left him with the fierce urge to surpass them, so as to throw their haughty attitudes back in their faces. As such, he was a wondrous and dedicated student of all knightly skills and, after having fought in battle several times as a squire, was knighted at only 18 years old.


In the more than a decade since, he has fought for the Empire numerous times, providing exemplary service—marred, perhaps, only by his predilection for cutting some of his fellow nobles to ribbons in honor duels.


Campaign History:







While generally good-natured and easy going, if slightly on the laconic side at times, Alec—frequently the target of scorn or derision from knights or other nobles from far older families, for both the newness of his family’s noble status, as well as his elegant and ‘un-knightly’ manner of fighting—can be somewhat prickly when it comes to matters of honor. As such, he has fought—and won—a rather large number of duels against his fellow nobles. However, with the sole exception of his very first duel—a messy, protracted affair responsible for the scar on his face, which he won by the skin of his teeth—he has avoided killing his opponents, feeling that a living, heavily scarred opponent makes for a better object lesson than a neatly-skewered dead one.


While, ever since the hard-earned lesson that was his first duel, Alec is always honest with himself as to the limits of his abilities, he is quite proud and confident in his skills as a swordsman and duelist—which can, at times, make him appear cocky or arrogant to others.




Hollí Emberleaf

05 July 2017 - 09:16 AM

Hollí Emberleaf


Full Name: Hollí Emberleaf

Aliases: None


Sex: Female

Race: Wood-Elf

Birthplace: Forest north of Shadowvale, Achæan Empire


Affinity: Fire

Deity: Artemis, Skadi

Magic: Gifted

Faction: Venatori


Talents: Finesse Combat, Marksmanship, Acrobatics, Monster Lore, Elven Woodworking



Strength: 3

Agility: 9 (7 + 2)

Constitution: 3 (4 - 1)

Perception: 9

Intelligence: 8

Spirit: 9

Luck: 2



Standing all of 4'8'' tall, with a slender, elfin build, Hollí is cute as a button. She has long, fiery auburn hair, and large, expressive green eyes. Her skin is fair, though perhaps slightly darker than the average for her kind. A narrow line of freckles runs across the bridge of her nose and beneath her eyes, giving her a slightly spectacled look.


A large tattoo—a mix of plant and flame motifs—done in teal ink, covers much of her body: starting on her back, flowing up the back of her neck, pouring down over her shoulders, and spiraling down her arms, with a few small tendrils curling around onto her chest and abdomen.


Aside from her blue Venator's cloak, she wears a thin, short-sleeved shirt, and pants—both of the same shade. Over the shirt, she wears a flexible leather cuirass; and over that she wears a sleeveless shirt of deepsilver chainmail. She wears leather boots and gloves, and leather vambraces and greaves protect her forearms and shins.


She carries an Elven longbow, sized for her height; she wears her quiver on her left hip. She also carries a spear that's about 8 inches longer than she is tall; she sharpened the edges of the long point so that she can make light cutting attacks in addition to thrusts; the butt of the shaft is capped with a steel ferrule, making a decent bludgeoning instrument, and allowing the weapon to conveniently double as a walking stick. In addition, she carries a silver dagger, plus a small knife that she mostly just uses for wood-carving.



(Venator Pack)

   • Clothing

   • Blue cloak

   • SIlver Venator brooch

   • Leather armor (cuirass, vambraces, greaves)

   • Deepsilver chainmail shirt

   • Steel spear

   • Elven bow, w/ 20 iron arrows and 5 silver arrows

   • Silver dagger

   • Flint and tinder

   • 3 clean bandages

   • 2 healing ointment

   • 2 sense-enhancing potions

   • 1 strength-enhancing potion

   • 1 anti-lycanthropy potion

   • Water and rations

   • A few small woodworking tools (small knife, files, chisel)

   • Oil and rags (for fire arrows)

   • Wood occarina



Born in the Achæan Empire, in the forest north of Shadowvale, Hollí's early life was typical of her kind. She hunted, she reveled, and she generally enjoyed life. Despite her blithe attitude towards life, she was a good person at heart, and considered doing something to help people—possibly becoming a Longstrider—but never seemed able to work up sufficient motivation.
That might never have changed, had she not, while hunting one night, caught a glimpse of a creature, like none she had ever seen before, flying above the treetops. She had been hunting with a friend, but they had split up to pursue game separately. Twenty-three at the time, curious, and confident in her skills as a hunter, she followed the creature, continuing even after she lost sight of it. She found it—or rather, the transformed elf it proved to be—crouched over her friend, teeth sunk deep into the other girl's neck, drinking her blood. She had never even heard the scream. Unable to repress a gasp at the sight, she unwittingly attracted the vampire's attention. She recognized the man—a loner that had been seen around the forest from time to time. At once, he transformed and attacked her.
Most people would have died there—and she very nearly did—but she had been born with the Gift of magic; with a blast of magical fire she knocked the vampire back and injured it, buying herself some time to flee—taking off through the tree-tops. But the vampire—desperate to keep its secret, or just angry—pursued.
The flames also had another, entirely unintentional effect: attracting the attention of the group of Venatori who had been hunting the blood-drinker.
Hollí loosed many arrows at the vampire as she fled, but in her panic and flight few of them hit—and those that did did not seem to impede or dissuade the bloodthirsty creature. Eventually, her pursuer caught her, knocking her from her perch to crash onto a much lower branch—injuring her and leaving her dangling helplessly. The monster-hunters arrived just in the nick of time, killing the vampire just as it's bat-like form landed on the branch and was about to rip out her throat. After hearing her story—which left out her magic, of course—one of the Venators complimented her on surviving as long as she had, and then they left, their work complete.
But she could not so easily get over the events of that night. An avid huntress, the thought of something so monstrous, something she knew nothing about and could scarcely fight, bothered her deeply… as did the fact that she had been unable to save her friend—had been able to  do nothing but turn and flee, when confronted by her killer. And so before long she made a decision: she followed the hunters back to Castle Greywatch, and there joined the Venatori order.
Having been a Venator for almost thirty-eight years now, she is quite experienced. Although something of a divisive figure amongst the order due to her typically playful and immature attitude, she is nevertheless a dedicated and competent monster-hunter.


Campaign History:







Many people mistake Hollí for a child at first glance. Whether or not that impression is shattered the moment she opens her mouth really depends on her mood. For she is, above all else, mercurial: she's about as tame and predictable as an active volcano; her personality capable of shifting between bubbly child, cynical world-weary smart-ass, serious and dedicated Venator, and more—with such speed as to risk giving onlookers whiplash. Although 'vivacious, playful, and childish' is the most common. 


Hollí is sort of the annoying kid sister of the Venatori order—despite the fact that she's actually 61 years old. She's one of those people who always seems to have a surfeit of energy, and seems incapable of remaining still for even an instant—making some who don't know her wonder how she ever manages to stay quiet on a hunt. She's also got a serious teasing streak, and loves subverting the expectations that people tend to form based on her incredibly youthful appearance and behavior—although she also loves pulling rank, as it were, with her age on people younger than her.


Generally easy-going—verging on blithe—it takes quite a bit to get her riled up, and her temper is a rare sight (thankfully, given her magical Gift, which she must keep hidden)—but when it does get going, it's a wonder to behold. Snarky comebacks—typically delivered with a feigned childlike innocence—are far more common.


Currency: 20 Gold, 35 Silver, 25 Copper


HP: 15/15


Valya Catseye

31 May 2017 - 02:23 PM

Valya Catseye


Full Name: Valya Catseye

Aliases: None


Sex: Female

Race: Werewolf (Nordling)

Birthplace: Unknown—found at Endibraut Hall


Affinity: Frost

Deity: Odin

Faction: None


Talents: Martial Combat, Acrobatics, Intimidation, Subtlety



Strength: 12 (10 + 2)

Agility: 7 (5 + 2)

Constitution: 7 (5 + 2)

Perception: 10 (7 + 3)

Intelligence: 6

Spirit: 7

Luck: 2



Valya looks, in every respect, like the quintessential 'northern barbarian woman.' Fully six feet tall, she is immensely strong—her muscles standing out beneath her skin like steel cables. Yet, despite her massive musculature, she does not appear oversized or awkward, being possessed of a sinuous, feline grace. Her golden-blond hair is fairly short, and untamed save for a few tiny braids distributed at random—except in back, where it is quite long, and all twined into a single thick braid. Her skin, like most northerners', is quite fair, and her eyes are a bright, piercing amber.


Although she is only 29 years old, people tend to assume she is much older, due to both the hard, grim cast of her—otherwise fairly pretty—features, and the innumerable scars that crisscross her arms, her legs—pretty much every part of her body. Her face is the only part of her that is not heavily scarred, being unmarked save for a single thin scar running along her right cheekbone back towards her ear.


Like her human form, when fully transformed, her werewolf form is unusually tall and muscular—though not as distinctively so as her human form, given that werewolves are generally tall and muscular. Her werewolf form's fur is a dark, dirty-blond, and retains the braids in her hair. The scars that cover her human skin may be glimpsed though her fur. Her eyes turn golden, and even brighter.


Her clothing is all simple, and dark-colored, and much of it is obviously well-worn—as she seemingly lacks the desire to maintain or replace it. She also wears a wolfskin, like the one from her time as a berserker. She wears no armor of any kind. She wears a simple copper ring that is set with a small cymophane—or 'cat's eye'—gem: the only reminder of her family that she has allowed herself to keep… and could not bear to throw away.


Her only weapon is a steel claymore sword, which she wears slung across her back. She also carries a small knife for utilitarian purposes.



(Fortune Hunter Pack)

   • Clothing

   • Cloak

   • Small knife

   • Map

   • Flint and tinder

   • 1 torch

   • Water and rations

   • Steel claymore

   • Simple copper ring set with a small 'cat's eye' gem

   • Whetstones



Valya was found as an infant on the steps of Endibraut Hall. Who her parents were, and why they left her, no one knows—and, frankly, she doesn't care—although it was clear that her blood was purely of the north.


A wulfing family visiting the hall took pity on the child, and adopted her, bringing her back to their home in Wulfsted. Her name came from the odd, catlike appearance of her eyes.


Her phenomenal strength was apparent from a fairly young age; it was clear to everyone, including herself, that she was destined to be a warrior. Because of this, she was allowed to take the trials to become a berserker at an unusually young age, which she passed handily, binding herself to the most powerful and fearsome of spirits: that of a wolf.


With her Odin-granted power, and her own innate strength, she fought innumerable battles over the next several years: against the Empire, the Chaos Races, and others besides, distinguishing herself many times. However, then something that she had never expected—never looked for—happened: she fell in love. 


While it seemed a waste—almost an affront to Odin—to cast aside her power, and her talent for battle, her heart won out. She married the man, and settled down, giving birth to a beautiful daughter. She forgot the bloodlust of combat, and was happy. But, less than a year later, she returned home from a hunting trip to find her home burned, her husband and daughter slain—the work of the Chaos Races.


Some people say she lost her mind at that moment. She would say she found clarity: this was a sign—a sign that she was never meant for the peaceful life, that she had committed a grievous sin by casting aside her true calling, and the gift Odin had bestowed upon her. She threw herself into the business of bloodshed. She freely used the power Odin had granted her, cutting bloody swathes across the battlefield, heedless of the numerous injuries she received in return.


But it could not last, and eventually the inevitable happened: she lost herself to the power, and became a werewolf. Exiled from her tribe, from civilization, she wanders now: fighting for any who will have her, and against any who will stand before her. Battle is everything to her now, and she will put her bloody, brutal prowess to work until either it kills her, or she finds something worthwhile to fight for again. But she will never again abandon her true path: she is a warrior, nothing else.


Campaign History:







22 Gold, 45 Copper


HP: 35/35