Athamar: Quests from Lorana OOC

**Kiall** · 08-28-2011, 09:01 PM

yay you're not dead!

i'm so happy that gypsy was wrong

**Lúthien** · 08-28-2011, 09:15 PM

LOL! It's gonna take more than a hurricane to wipe me out! In seriousness, we only had one death in New York; a lot of injuries though. It's good that we took the necessary precaution here. I just hope everyone who lives in the city are all right and safe.

**Fulgrim** · 08-29-2011, 05:41 AM

Name: Meraxes Tallhart

Age: 36

Appearance:

Spoiler: Meraxes Tallhart in plate

Meraxes is a tall, fair man, once noted for his comeliness more than even his prowess with sword, shield and lance. Standing just above six foot tall with broad sloping shoulders and the muscular athletic build of a man honed for combat Meraxes cuts an intimidating figure on the field. Although still in optimal shape for combat the signs of wear and tear have started to show on the exile knight, a scar here, a hole here and even a line or two of grey in his lustrous golden mane.

Meraxes' face is kept clean shaven with his golden hair kept to just above shoulder length the gold shot through by small shoots of aging grey. The eyes of the knight are a pale icy blue, they are eyes without warmth and empty of compassion, the jaded eyes of a man who knows what it is to end a life. Meraxes carries a small crescent shaped scar just below his left eye and a criss cross of similar wounds across his back, the constant signature of the floggers thongs.

Meraxes wears a simple yet well made outfit of green roughspun tied at the belt with a sash of red at the waist. For particularly messy occasions Meraxes elects to don a pair of black leather gloves to minimize the time needed to clean and remove the traces of death from his skin. Meraxes, ever a soldier takes meticulous care to carefully maintain the articles of his clothing, his clothes as good as new and his black leather boots shiny as a new penny despite the years of poverty and exile.

When able to prepare for combat Meraxes wears a set of plate armor, steel painted gold. The armor is thick and provides great protection but at the cost of quite some mobility.

Spoiler: Meraxes' Clothes (Just this clothes this guy is NOT Meraxes, I repeat NOT MERAXES!

Location: Meraxes originated from Porzul before resuming service in the capital, after his disgrace he fled back to the docks and back alleys of his home town. The filthy, squalid port giving the perfect shelter to a man longing to fade into the back ground of the forgotten and ill considered.

Class/Weapon: Disgraced Knight / Bastard Sword (Hand a half long sword) and shield.

Spoiler: Meraxes' Sword

Spoiler: Meraxes' Shield

Personality:
Meraxes was brought up to be self centered and preservationist in nature, his own safety and survival come first to him always as what greater importance can there be than to see one more sunrise and watch the same sun dip at dusk. Meraxes is practical and calculating, often coming across as boorish and brutal to those who are new to his company, his pragmatism mistaken for contempt.

Meraxes is reluctant to get close to new brothers in arms for a solider learns early that if you don't know the man dying next to you it's easier to observe. This however is only an initial buffer between the exiled knight and potential friends.

Meraxes is a man who likes his nights lively and full of drink, despite his taciturn nature when sober a drunken Meraxes is loud and loose lipped, a trait that made him many enemies out of one time friends.

Quick to anger and prickly over matters of honor Meraxes is a tenacious fighter, relying on his ferocity and strength to beat down his opponents. The exiled knight is fond of combat with shield and will use it as much as a weapon as a defensive wall, bludgeoning and beating an enemy with it until able to work an opening for his blade.

When exhausted Meraxes' fighting style will slow and he will shift to a more considered approach, striking behind his wall of steel and wood, fighting off the back foot. If all if lost Meraxes is not above bargaining for clemency from his foes.

History:

Meraxes was born to a pie maker in the port town of Porzul, his mother was a sickly wench and his father a drunken sot of a sailor with a hard back hand and little care for the bastard children he whelped when at port.

Meraxes grew quickly and he grew hard, fighting for scraps with the other urchins, stealing, brawling, gambling and making himself a place within the little world he called home.

After the death of his mother bringing him a rape sired half brother Meraxes sold the pie shop in the hopes of carving something better for himself and his infant brother

A likely lad of fifteen by now Meraxes bought himself a dull shortblade and offered his services as a body guard to the many traveling merchants that passed through Porzul on business. In truth any success the boy had was more to do with his wits than anything else, growing in the town lent him knowledge of where and who to avoid to keep your purse on your belt and your blood in your throat.

Meraxes had earned himself enough for a small house away from the docks by the time he had turned a man grown but his prosperity was short lived. The younger brother he had taught and protected through his infancy had grown old enough to steal and run off to the nearest thug with Meraxes' meager purse, leaving his brother penniless once more.

Meraxes near starved over the course of that winter as his tight muscles withered to nothing and his ribs began to poke through his palid flesh. Eventually Meraxes Tallhart turned back to crime, fighting bare handed in street brawls in back alleys of Porzul for the scattered pennies of bored merchants and sailors.

After a few initial beatings and bloodyings Meraxes career as a fighter proved successful until one afternoon it transpired that a foe he had beaten near to death was a guard sworn to the realm. Meraxes was arrested and given a choice, learn to put his skills to better use taking the place of the man he beat or the gallows. As the position came with a warm bed and food as well as the promise of an unbroken neck Meraxes accepted and learned the trade of a guard.

As he progressed with his training Meraxes caught the eye of a knight, come to Porzul on royal business. Meraxes was told to depart for the capital with the traveling knight and served with him for two years until he found himself anointed and standing his vigil, steel in hand.

Ser Meraxes Tallhart earned distinction for his prowess and his quick learning and was soon a favored knight within the realm. The boy from Porzul grew used to fine wine in his cup and a highborn girl on his arm. It was when one of his high born girls turned out to be promised to another knight that trouble began, The knight sought to defend his honor by challenging Meraxes to a duel to first blood.

Meraxes agreed to duel and fought in earnest, the blades were dulled tourney swords to remove the possibility of maiming of fatality. The duel was well watched by the court and both men earned a cheers for their fighting ability. The proceedings took a turn however when the other knight cursed Meraxes as a Whoreson sellsword.

The red mist descended on Meraxes who attacked with renewed vigor, beating his foe to the ground and bludgeoning him to death with the pommel of his broken sword while the dying man screamed "I yeild!" till the life drained from his eyes.

Meraxes was arrested and flogged before being exiled from the capital and stripped of his knighthood. If not for his past service and friends within the court he would have been given the rope.

Meraxes rode back to Porzul with but a horse under him and a sword on his belt, he promptly put himself about as a mercenary, bodyguard, hitman and odd jobs man earning a reputation as the most feared sell sword in Porzul. His past and back earned him the name "The Criss Cross Knight" and in Porzul there is no one better to go to if you need something done.

**Ace of Hearts™** · 08-29-2011, 01:39 PM

So I got my characters done today, give them a good look over and tell me if there's anything wrong.

Name: Arsene Salazar.

Age: 25

Appearance:

Spoiler: Arsene.

Arsene stands in an 5'7 and weighs 140 pounds, and is of a thinner build. He wears a light outfit, with a Leather jerkin under. This is for the case of 'what if' and in the only real armor he wears.

Location: Perennon Forest.

Class/Weapon: 'Gentleman' Thief/Man of Many Faces: Arsene carries his own bow, fashioned from the one of the finest trees within the Perennon Forest. He is an incredbly skilled Archer, well versed in both Short and long bows. In his line of 'work', he's prefered he non-lethel approach (unless dealing with monsters or bandits), prefering to subdue rather than kill. In example: A guard may be, well, guarding (oddly enough), Arsene would aim for the legs. Or in the better case scenario, use some of his custom arrows. Those of which are: Noisemakers, Fireworks, and Sleepers. Noisemakers are attached with a Music box, which lures guards and/or monsters where ever it's shot. Fireworks hold a small amount of black powder, which can be used to stun or for sabotage. Sleepers are dipped in a non lethel posion which knock out the target. The downside to all these are:

Noisemakers are faint and can malfunction if not handled delicately. Fireworks have fuses of varible lengths, and Sleepers may not affect larger, stonger creatures/people. One larger shared downside is they all cost a pretty copper piece to buy, and he rarely carries around more than 2 of each. He also has a grappling hook to help him scale things, and can also be used as a last resort close weapon.

Personality: Suave. Dapper. Methodical. Arrogant. Many words describe Arsene. Foul or complimentary is dependent on who is actually saying the words. Charms and wit are tools of the trade of the thief, just as greed is. And Arsene has these in the tenfold. He does not believe in loyalty to any single cause or man, instead owing his allegiance to himself and the pursuit of gold. No Gods, No Masters. However, if he ever decides you're worthy of his admiration, you'll have a bow covering your back forever, Brol being a prime example.

"Funny, you earn your rewards. I take mine."

Born the only child of Corn farming parents, Arsene was a little less than content. Granted, his father often took him out hunting, where he learned how to handle a bow. Many things often came up missing in their house, often found in Arsene's room. Often times, they'd find things they didn't even own. Going into manhood, he became quite skilled with a bow, and that's when his parents saved enough gold for the trip to the Perennon Forest, where he lived for some time, training in the arts of shadows and persuasion. Being one of the few humans in the Forest, he learned the language of the Elves.

As luck shoud have it, two adventurerers came through the Forest. Brol Askerad, 3st son of Rigar Askerad, and 3rd in line for the Ironsplitters tribe Chieftain, and Calisa Ednias, Elven mage and one of the top apprentices in Anorgath. The three of them traveled across the land, doing odd jobs primarily. They had a good balance, and they mostly got along. Sure, Calisa had to lock Arsene mouth shut with a spell everytime he made a pass at her, and they had to carry Brol out of taverns. Sometimes more than once a day. But one day, Calisa came up missing. No note, no sign of struggling in her Inn room. She was simply gone.

After that, Arsene and Brol wandered around, taking less and less jobs as time went by. A whole year had passed after Calisa's dissapearence. Soon, they found themselves in the capital of Lorana, and as luck would have it, the king was in need for skilled warriors, educated mages, and sly theives. Hey, two out of three wasn't bad, right?

----------------------------------------------

Name: Brol Askerad.

Age: 78 (In human years, the equivalent of 38.)

Appearance:

Spoiler: Brol.

Brol stands in a 4'5 and weighs 235 pounds. He wears an armor mix of leathers and furs.

Location: Fevaran Valley, Island off of Lamordia.

Class/Weapon: Ironsplitter Barbarian: The Dwarves of the Ironsplitter tribe (Or in their native tongue, 'Contanore reh Danrud', literally meaning 'Those who split ores') are somewhat known for their Craftsmanship of fur armors and fine axes. Brol is no stranger to this, and while he himself cannot craft much, he owns some of the finest the tribe has to offer. Being the 3rd in line for Cheiftain position doesn't mean he was spoiled. Dwarven people, no matter the rank or level of living, believe in instilling strength into the youngones. As such, Brol has been battle hardened, even if the son of Cheiftain. One does not usually attain the title by being weak. Brol wears fur and leather combo, perfect for protection and warmth. He usually wields a large Battleaxe, especially made for him, over a sword. A Warhammer is usually in his arsenal as well, but it isn't aren't as versitile as his Axe.

Personality: Brol is typically blunt and straight forward with everyone, as Dwarves do not cower behind lies. If he has a proplem with someone, he'll tell them. Usually loudly. While not exactly dumb, most of his time was spent fighting or training, so he has little formal education. In his down time, Brol LOVES to drink, and is usually drunk most nights. During such times, he's much more lighthearted and playful, as it's a celebration to him.

History: Born to Rigar and Edlena Askerad, Brol is the 3rd son, behind Tilum and Rigar the 2nd. The Ironsplitter tribe is made up of around 350, 100 of them being warriors. All three Askerad brothers joined, and all three attained the rank of 'Kurask' (A sort of platoon leader, usually commands 20 men.) There are only ever 5 Kurasks, and their father was proud all three managed to be so talented. Brol and his brothers fought in many battles, which only furthered the Askerad name. However, their Father's health had began to dwindle, and instead of waiting for death, accompanied his sons for one final battle against a rival tribe or Marauders. He fell as the battle began to quiet, and at the funeral, his first sone, Rigar the 2nd, was given the title of the new Cheiftain.

With the Cheiftain, and the tribe growing, Brol decided to resign from his rank of Kurask. He spoke it over to his brothers, and decided to journey away from the tribe, to seek out other Dwarven groups and propose a possible truce, or an induction into their own. On his way, he met Calisa Ednias, a wandering mage who needed some muscle as she traveled. Together, the two traveled through Lamordia, down to the Perennon Forest, where they met Arsene. Together the three traveled, and Brol looked for any other tribes. But one day, Calisa came up missing. No note, no sign of struggling in her Inn room. She was simply gone.

After that, Brol and Arsene wandered around, taking less and less jobs as time went by. A whole year had passed after Calisa's dissapearence. Soon, they found themselves in the capital of Lorana, and as luck would have it, the king was in need for skilled warriors, educated mages, and sly theives. Hey, two out of three wasn't bad, right?