Umans are among the most common and numerous of all races of Arcane and clearly one of the most sophisticated and civilized. From their humble beginnings when Umankind was believed to be large mammals which walked upright with a physical appearance much resembling a creature called 'Ape', Umans have since shown their high intelligence and ability to adapt quickly to harsh evironments.
Umans are very social and live in large societies that they call 'cities' or 'villages'. Umans are mostly monogamous, often spending their whole life with a single partner. The children are raised primarily by the mother and are dependent of her until the age of 14-18 years.
Although able to tame fire and manufacture tools, their progress is hampered by constant war with each other and other races of Arcane over issues of Honor....
From The Great Librarie of Daelows by UckNaQ, High Scribe.
At an estimated age of 27 winters Vidar stands approximately two meter in height and weighing 13 stones. Short cropped black hair and short beard frames a square face with restless brown eyes.
Due to his trade his clothing is usually non-descript usually consisting of a leather cuirass under a knee length tunic and full-length pants tucked into soft leather boots. The one thing that a trained weapons smith would see was the two short swords that are belted to his waist. The thing that would have drawn their eye was the embellished pommels, one was of all things a squirrel with a ruby stone for its eye, the other was more sinister of a raven with a black jet stone.
Magic: Vidar has no innate magical powers, but he has several magical objects that were given to him by his clan to help him.
*Note* All the magical objects are owned by the Clan and are loaned only to members that achieve high rank within the Clan. None of the objects have offensive powers and have limited use per day until they recharge.
Vidar is a member of a clan called the Eventyrer.
The Eventyrer are an offshoot of the Northern Skylds, but unlike the mostly segregated Skylds the Eventyrer are an inclusive people. Over the centuries they have become known for having a diverse mix of races, guilds. Each member of the clan is held to the highest of standards which is overseen by the elders of each discipline.
As was the custom of Eventyrer every year the children of the age of eight are put through a yearlong process that would find their best place to contribute in the Eventyrer society. After an end of the year each child is given a choice of possible trades to join.
Vidar was given the choice of being one of the guardian solders that protected the interest of the clan. Following the traditions of his family Vidar spent the next five years in training with the guard of the keep in Aniada. Vidar excelled in training due to his natural talent and the tutelage of his relatives and their friends. Vidar became one of the youngest guardians to graduate training and become a full-fledged member of the Eventyrer guard and the next three years were spent in advance training in various disciplines.
At the age of seventeen Vidar continued his training in various parts of the worlde where his education was expanded beyond the realm of the average guardsman. It was while he was in command of a small force scouting for a new outpost in the wilds of Thapelel when he received word to return to the keep in Aniada for a new assignment. The months were spent in making the trek until he stood in a shadowed area off the side of the road looking at the keep in the distance.
OOC: “To Overlooking the Keep of the Eventyrer Aniada”.
Name: Talan Richelon
At the age of 18 summers Talan stands approximately five feet and seven inches in height and weighing 13 stones. He has shoulder length chestnut brown hair, that flops into his eyes giving him a boyish look at times. His eyes are the most startling feature he carries, a bright emerald green flecked with gold. Across his back he bears the tattoo of a Phoenix. His build is not huge, he is rangy one might say, not quite grown into his muscle.
His clothing is consisting of a knee length tunic and leather sandals About his wrists are two locked iron bracelets and about his neck a locked iron ring engraved with the name Blaze.
Talan does have a mild ability to wield fire, he can summon it for a very short time.
The iron suppresses the fire he can wield, though he can only call it for a very short time, a minute or two if unencumbered by the iron. Summoning it wears on him quickly, exhausting him, like it drains the very life from him, leaving him to the point of unconscious. The Firefew flower also can suppress his ability, when brewed into a tea and imbibed.
Talan is an orphan from the streets of the city known as Haven. They place being a den of iniquity and vice. His mother was a lowly mage to a wealthy House who got herself pregnant by the Lord and expelled from the household onto the streets. She gave birth to Talan in a cellar under a drinking house where she had secured some lodging.
She only spent seven years with her boy before a fever took her, leaving the boy to fend for himself. He ran with a gang of children, who picked pockets and stole for a man they called ‘Grampie’. He gave them a place to sleep at night and something to eat and they bought him whatever they could lay their hands on. It was when he turned sixteen that the fire came, one night his skin felt hot and his blood burned within and he had gotten into an argument with one of the boys and somehow without understanding how he did it, he set the lad’s cloak on fire and then passed out. Grampie had seen such before, a long while past, and it was he that clamped a necklet of iron about Talan’s neck stating he didn’t need a Pyro making life hard for them all. Talan woke to find himself not in Grampie’s loft anymore but locked in a cell at Cathiss Novell’s School of Gladiators just outside of Haven.
The Master had a fancy to train a magical fighter and Grampie had sold Talan on cheap to Cathiss. Here is where he gained the slave’s name Blaze and started to be trained in the way of the sword. He was tattooed instead of branded as for some reason the brand would not take on his skin. The mark was that of a Phoenix, its wings stretched cross his shoulders and it tail streamed down his spine. Talan was not like the others he trained with, that became apparent fast, he did not like killing or hurting others. The Wolvian Trainer Iron Claw was hard and stood for no nonsense and Talan was punished more than once. It was fight day and that was when he took the chance and fled while he was not being watched straight out of the front gate. He ran and ran until he found himself entering a forest, that began in Upper Noitnetta, part of the Forest of Rosewood.
Birthplace: Seven Oaks
Kabrin of Seven Oaks is 6 foot tall, dark hair and dark eyes and has a closely cropped dark beard. He has an athletic build and is well tanned from his years on the Vericul Sea. Kabrin wears the billowy white cotton pants and shirts of sailors and a colorful scarf about his head. About his waist is a broad black belt with silver buckle. The belt has a few pockets for small items. He may also wear a dark leather traveling cloak with hood raised when traveling overland.
Weapons of choice include a scimitar, which he found in a treasure room deep in Dragon's Peak mountain (it has no special magickal properties), and two throwing daggers. The throwing daggers sheath in leather crossbelts at his chest.
He is an experienced sailor, sea captain and adventurer. He is a good fighter. He has a good working knowledge of basic magick principles through his associations with various wizards and mages over the years, but without support of a magickal object, spellbook or some other aid, he is unable to perform any type of magick.
Kabrin was born and raised in Seven Oak when it was a small cluster of huts around seven oak trees. His parents died when he was a small boy and he was raised by Chug, then an adventurer and warrior. When Kabrin came of age, he began sailing on ships from the port of Seven Oaks. In the meantime, Chug was severly injured, wife killed in an Orc raid and was left to raise his daughter Zbeth. After Kabrin returned with his first fortune from adventuring, he built the Seven Oaks Inn and gave it to Chug. Although Kabrin is still technically the owner, Chug manages the Inn and as well as the bulk of Kabrin's wealth. Kabrin always sees that a share of each fortune goes back into the development of Seven Oaks.
Kabrin's prime interest is understanding the mysteries of the Lands of Aniada.
Chug, the Bartender
Seven Oaks Inn
Chug has led a rough and tumble life. Over the years, he had a few fights. Won a few and lost a few. As a young man, he was a warrior for a good while and learned a thing or two about weapons. He also learned how to look a man in the face who's about to kill yew and not show fear. Over time, as he got older and found there was not much really worth fighting for, Chug settled down. He had learned the only thing worth really fighting for were those who loved yew, so he found someone to love.
Got him a nice little piece of land with a nice farmer's daughter and started planting sweet potatoes and planning a family. They had a beautiful little girl they named Zbeth and one day out in the woods Chug found a little scruff of a boy who didn't look good for much, but Chug knew what it was to be hungry so he took the lad in. Called him Kabrin. And just like that, they had a little family, life was good. But fate always has a brutal twist to it at times.
The Orcs saw some goodness in what was going on and couldn't abide the umans getting away with that. So they attacked. Chug was severly injured, wife killed in the raid and was left to raise his daughter Zbeth and an older Kabrin. Kabrin took on the resposibility of helping out, but had learned the worlde was not a friendly place. He soon was of age to make out on his own and headed to the ports of Seven Oaks where he began shipping out on adventures. After Kabrin returned with his first fortune from adventuring, he built the Seven Oaks Inn and gave it to Chug.
Chug manages the Inn as his own and doesn't take kindly to shysters, flimflammers or puffy snots which he figures most guests are. That being said, if yew can get past his gruff exterior, yew'll generally find him affable.
Occupation (when her mistress can be found): Lady in Waiting to Lady Absynthe
Hair: Golden blonde, very long
Eyes: Hazel (both)
Skills: 4th generation healer, music, painting, very neat stitching, riding, court manners, reading, writing, figures, several languages
Height: Not overly tall
Fondness: For moggies. Developing one for Sidhe
Quote: "Is that a brand?"
Dark haired, and finally able to grow a chin beard and mustache, Hamilcar is a green eyed lad of 19. Still learning about the world around him.
Hamilcar was raised in a large family, the sixth son, he grew up helping his father who was a miller by trade. Bored of the drudgery that came from grinding grain into flour, Hamilcar quarreled with his father, packed some meager belongings and departed to seek adventure. It soon became apparent his lack of general skills would cause many hungry days and cold nights.
Several weeks after leaving home, Hamilcar was met along the road by a group of mounted mercenaries. His request for any spare food caused a round of laughter, but the mercenary captain sized up the young man and offered him training as a fighter if he wished to accompany them. Bereft of many options, Hamilcar accepted.
Weeks passed and Hamilcar trained each evening with the captain or his cohorts. His skills increased with every bruise, knick and cut. The motley group of paid fighters were merciless in their jibes and jests at Hamilcar's expense, since he was the untested in battle and the youngest of the band. The first town with a tavern the group arrived at, Hamilcar sat moping at a back table. As a prank the other mercenaries bought him a cup of Nikur, a clove scented potent alcohol. Hamilcar gagged on his first swallow, but then, angry at the laughter, he finished the cup and began to enjoy the warmth that spread through his body. He drank most of the evening. He was violently ill in the morning, again bitter at the laughter by the mercenaries. But he was young and his body recovered quickly.
The mercenaries saw several stints as paid bodyguards and a time as a town watch. Hamilcar earned his first shares of pay and was able to afford his own weapons and equipment. Each night he was off duty he found his own company to be best, drinking Nikur and wondering what he wanted to do with his life. He felt bereft of friends and a future he could be excited about.
On the mercenaries fifth job since Hamilcar joined, the group was hired by a wealthy noble to drive off settlers that had established a small village on the outskirts of his lands. It seems the noble had gotten word that the settlers had discovered snails on their land which produced valuable purple dye. Perfect for coloring fabrics that could be sold for handsome prices.
The group struck at night, riding to the six hut grouping and calling out the settlers to gather their belongings and be gone within the hour, certain they would be easily cowed. The mercenaries departed and rested for the hour and then returned. But, rather than find empty huts they were confronted by poorly armed but stubborn villagers. With a whoop of derision the mercenaries began to move forward with their horses. Arrows flew from beside huts and one mercenary was struck in his calf. Laughs became curses and the enraged fighters charged against the settlers. Hamilcar sat stunned. Watching in horror as his comrades began hacking and stabbing the defenders in bloodlust. Men, boys, women and children ran through torchlight as men on horseback ran them down.
Hamilcar saw a young girl, no more than 13, running away from a hut and behind her one of his companions kicked his horse to follow. Hamilcar no longer had clear thoughts, he turned his horse and raced to catch up. His companion galloped beside the girl and with practiced ease kicked her sideways to the ground. He reigned in the horse and leapt down, drawing his sword and stepping toward the girl as she crawled in the grass. Hamilcar stopped his horse and dismounted, dashing forward. "No! Stop! By all the gods, stop!" His comrade gave hardly a glance, grinned and snarled, "You can have her after I have carved off some bits boy!" He raised his sword arm above the whimpering girl.
Hamilcar's sword cleaved the man's raised arm at the elbow, and with a swift spin his blade sunk deep into the middle of his back. A scream of pain turned into a gurgle as the mercenary collapsed sideways. Hamilcar crouched, panting, taking in what he had just done. His thoughts tumbled in every direction. He was as good as dead now if his companions found him. His eyes found the girl. He stepped to the dying mercenary, slashed the strings on the man's purse and tossed it to the girl. "Take that and go, NOW! There should be enough to get you by until you can find help or relations. Hurry! Go that way!" The girl nodded mutely, scooped the pouch and came to her feet, dashing in terror into the darkness.
Hamilcar took several deep breaths and looked back toward the village huts, now set ablaze. The screams were becoming fewer. Hamilcar remounted, rode forward and gathered the expired mercenary's horses reins. He stared at the flames and silhouettes of fighters doing their work. Then he turned his horse and kicked it into a trot away from the death.
He needed a drink of Nikur, and he needed to decide what kind of man he wanted to be.