Character Descriptions

This is the place to post what your PC looks like as seen by the other characters.

Wow! What great descriptions. Thank you for doing this.

Arken is a healthy young man in his mid-twenties. Of medium height and athletic build, he wears a light, short-sleeved, dark leather adventurer's outfit, as well a pair of leather bracers on his forearms. Under his white cloak, he carries twin broadswords crossed at his back. His short black hair and dark eyes gleaming with determination, combined with his air of confidence make a startling impression, but his smile indicates a good natured person.

Born second son to one of Legio's most renowned master craftsmen, a skillful weapons and armor maker, Arken's heart has always craved for adventure. From a young age he has displayed an uncanny ability with the swords lying around his father's forge and shop. Upon reaching adulthood, Arken was sent to one of his father's old friends and former adventurer, now the weaponsmaster of a distant castle, to be trained as a swordsman. During his apprenticeship, Arken came to adopt the two weapons style favored by his master. He learned to train with little or no armr, relying on lightning fast movements and reactions to avoid an opponent's blow, and a deluge of precise, surgical cuts to take him down. After 5 years of intensive training, Arken has now returned to Legio to seek wealth, fame and glory, his ultimate goal being to be accepted into Legio's nobility.

Arken is a good natured young man. He is strong and nimble and robust, and takes great pride in his fighting skills, pride that sometimes becomes arrogance. He wishes to become an ever more formidable warrior. He set out on the path of adventuring to achieve wealth. Even more so he desires to explore ruins and the like in search of rare, powerful weapons and warrior's gear. He is acceptant of most other people regardless of their origins, commonborn or noble. However, Arken dislikes religion and the practices that often come with it. He looks down on thieves and hates murderers and bandits.

The time has come to put Arken's Strength and Skills to the test...

Cuthbert of Legio.

A straight backed, upright man with squared shoulders wearing a long, plain brown robe gathered with rope at the waist. He is a large fellow and does not fidget, nor shrink from any scrutinising gaze, his movements are slow and deliberate, almost heavy.

Large hazel eyes set beneath stern, black eyebrows judge you from deep inside the cowl. A thick, but neat and lustrous black beard and long moustaches frame what face is visible from the shadows of his robe. His appearance and demeanour are austere, but the pink tinge of his cheeks and something in the wideness of his eyes betray his youth.

On the journey to Alba, any curious folk could have noted that if one peeked into his cowl, he seemed to be wearing a tight fitting, black knitted skullcap low over his ears. Or that on occasion when he had need to pull at his reins and his robes sleeve slipped- that prayer beads seemed to be tightly round around his right wrist and forearm like a bracer.

His mule is laden with various leather bags and sacks and a massive, stone headed cudgel. A round wooden shield with a leather facing, painted with a large, black cross contrasted starkly against a white background.

Mayra is a mature woman in her mid thirties. Of average height, the robes she wears cover most of her body, hiding her physique. She is a merchant after all, and not some waitress at an inn. A few red and white colored ribbons hang from her neck. A simple broche decorates her long, dark brown hair. If you look carefully you can notice her having a bit darker tan than average, probably telling that she is a descendant of the people from the south. It is even noticeable in her tone of voice. She bears a heartwarming smile all the time, and seems to be a bit playful like a child when talking to people.
As a merchant she is trading small apparatuses and machines from practical to pure decorative. As such, she tends to travel between towns and look up any craftsmen or smiths. Her customers range from the nobles over other merchants to the small folk. She supplies Illusionists with trick-makers and criminals with lock picking tools, while at the same time selling exclusively decorated toys to rich families. Thankfully, most of these wares aren’t very big, and she can carry most of them without any help in a purse, which seems to be the only thing she carries with her.

Ok guys. for those of you anxious to know a little more about the mysterious Lillian, here is her backstory...

Lillian is a strikingly attractive woman in her mid-20's. Mischievous, a little arrogant and not above helping herself to things which aren't hers, Lillian is nonetheless a decent person Orphaned from a young age, she has been raised in the home of a kindly old man in Legio.


Tansin, as the old man called himself, has always claimed to be a wizard, though Lillian knows that any truly powerful magic-user would be much less open about their art in Legio than was her benefactor, whom few city-dwellers take seriously. That said, he does possess some limited knowledge – how he came by it, Lillian has never been able to divine, but he has willingly passed that skill on to his young charge.


He also has a little collection of items which he treasures; he claims that they are each possessed of arcane magical power, although he never explains the nature of the power and Lillian suspects that the for the most part, the trinkets are worthless - all save one, a strange orb that contains a constantly shifting mist.


Over the years, Lillian has grown bored of life in old Tansin's company. She is fond of the old man in an odd, detached way, but she long ago learned everything that he could teach her and exhausted his limited knowledge of the mysterious arcane forces which ebb and flow through the natural world. Lillian increasingly finds herself drawn to the great world outside Legio: she hungers for experience, for the company of new people, for knowledge and for spells to add to the meagre repertoire taught her by her old guardian.

Eventually, Lillian decides to leave. Under cover of darkness, she makes her way to the old man's magical repository and relieves him of his most cherished magical item -the small, dusky orb, the interior of which appears to be filled by a soft, milky vapour which shifts hypnotically when lifted, as if responding to the warmth of the hand which holds it.

Lillian has no idea what power might be contained within the strange object - neither does the old man for that matter - but when she gathers the courage to hold it, she can feel its strange influence probe insistently and unpleasantly at the corners of her subconscious. No-one ever holds the orb for very long.

Now, however, it lies concealed in a velvet drawstring bag within the crisp folds of Lillian's robes as she makes her way quickly and silently towards the gates of Legio. The sun is already beginning to breach the horizon in the eastern sky and Lillian knows that her old benefactor will soon stir.

Her intention is to make for the nearby town of Alba - perhaps she can tag along in the rear of one of the merchant caravans which normally pull out of Legio during the early hours. At Alba, she will pause and consider her next move.

Whatever she decides to do, Lillian is resolved that she has made the right decision and elated to think that at last, her adventure in the real world has begun. She has no idea what - or who - to expect....

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Rolland

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Description (Player Knowledge):
Huddled under his dark cloak stands a forlorn and lonely figure. A tall, handsome warrior, only a cross-shaped arrow wound on his left cheek mars his otherwise strikingly handsome features. His white shirt, though kept clean and of fine linen, bears the faint brown rust-marks of his chain-mail. Likewise, his brown leather breeches seem a little worn, if of fine cut. Rolland's brown hair has been lightened in places by the sun, so that it can at times seem almost blonde. Though he speaks with the accent of a noble-born Franc, his dark skin hints at a Morad bloodline at some point in his recent ancestry.

When garbed for battle, Rolland's war-gear is also of obviously fine quality indeed, if a little worn and dated. His helm is of the old nasal bar style and his large shield has been painted black, though the odd scrap of colour shows through from beneath where is has sustained battle damage. Tall, with the broad shoulders and powerful calves and thighs of a horseman, it is clear by his education and erudite manner that Rolland is from a once mighty house. Yet by his knowledge of the scriptures, it is clear he has had some formal (limited) church education as well as a “merely” military one.

Background (DM Knowledge only until revealed in character):

Rolland is the natural, base-born son of a Francish Dux whose first marriage proved childless, though he refuses to disclose the identity of his father. Originally trained as a squire in this fathers household, Rolland and his three fellow bastard brothers (all born to different mothers) were displaced from his father's household upon his fathers marriage to his second wife and the subsequent birth of a legitimate son. Recognising that his own illegitimate offspring could father rival dynasties if permitted to continue serving him as knights, Rolland's father had his whole bastard-brood packed off to various universities to become priests and monks. Rolland and his brothers had other idea's and fled from their studies.

Rolland himself studied in Legio has since taken service with Rodrigo, Bishop of Regio. Rolland has received word from a priest and alumni of the university in Legio that his brothers had spent some time there, raising hell in various taverns and swearing to launch an assault on demon haunted ruins. Concerned that there has been no news of them for over a week, Alphonso had written to convey his condolences. Swearing to obtain news of his missing brothers, Rolland obtained a period of leave from the Bishop and has departed hastily, in the company of his loyal squire Bruno, for Alba.

Bruno

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Description:
A rake thin, tonsured old peasant with dirt encrusted skin, food-encrusted beard, poor teeth and dirty fingernails, Bruno has served the church all his life, first as an oblate and later, when it became clear he was not cut-out for the life of a full brother, as a lay-brother of the Cathedral at Legio.

Bruno has spent most of his early years as a mere stable-boy and (later) groom, but as a youth he managed to persuade a hard-up man-at-arms in the employ of the Bishop to take him on as a squire. Though too low-born to ever become a knight -and therefore never trained in the handling of arms- Bruno has outlived three masters and knows when to stand his ground and when to run or hide. He's not too proud to beg for his life if he has too, but at least appears to be to loyal to his master. He has been a squire now for over forty years, and claims to know every trick an innkeeper, tavern owner or farrier could possibly use to separate a poor knight from his hard-earned loot.

Mendax

A middle-aged man in traveller’s robes and cloak, he leans on a wooden staff for support when walking. He has a light beard and moustache, and his features are well defined. His clothing look well-travelled and he often has a weary look on his face. He is of medium height and build. Emerald green eyes that almost seem alien to his face sparkle with a hint of intelligence, and a mysterious smile sometimes passes over his lips.

Having descended from a mercantile family, Mendax’s father once owned wealth to rival that of nobles. However, in a stroke of tragedy, his trade caravan was ambushed by bandits who slit the throats of all present made away with the wealth. It is rumoured that this attack may have been orchestrated by nobles who were envious of his fortune.

Mendax, who was visiting Legio to learn from their scholars at the time, was devastated by the news of his family’s death. He left his home and took up travelling, whereupon he claims to have found God.

Regardless, the journeys he embarked on opened his eyes to the harshness of reality of life in Llion. Living amongst those in deep poverty, he was both awed by the commitment of his forefathers to have gained such a fortune out of nothing, and ashamed by his flaunting of wealth in his youth.

He never did forget the family fortune, however, and a recent finding of a lost heirloom from a street merchant leads him to believe that some of it may have found its way to Gordon’s Keep.

Diogenes "Dio" Villon

Description:
A man in his early twenties with thin face and build with hair cut short, attentive eyes and a light smile on his face. His body covered by a grey cloak, noticeably too large for him, inside a leather vest and beneath that what seems to be a well-worn linen tunic. On his belt hangs a sheated dagger as well as various pouches.

Aquila..

For 180cm, Aquila is quite a tall man. He has a long brown hair and brown eyes. Aquila been very loyal to his high warden, he would defend his master / region from any threat. In fact he would be the first line of defense.

Born in military family, he can easily adapt the job he recently got because of his skills. However, deep down he's kind of a loner type of guy that's why he's not really comfortable speaking with his colleagues and other people he hardly know. But once he trust and regard the other person as a friend, he would help his friend even though it cost him his life.

Even the high warden can get easily angry with him because of his stubbornness.

A tall figure looms forward from the darkness, his fur-lined blue cloak sweeping in the wind. He wears worked leather armor, well fitted and bearing the mark of decent quality. What gathers your attention is the ornate weapon and shield this warrior carries, for they are both signs that this one is someone to be wary of in battle.

The kite shaped shield is wooden, riveted in a few choice locations as it bears a cross. A skull of a demon then is interweaved onto the cross, its menacing gaze and cruel, wicked teeth fashioned in a form of agony. The battle axe is also well made, adorned in a pattern hard to decipher. The end is tipped into a sharp point, possibly for skewering unfortunate foes. The center of the blade has a chip in it, cracked, but not detering the weapon from its use in any way. If anything, it garners more respect, for you would hate to see what the intended target looks like now.

As he nears, you can make out the overly muscled arms that carry both weapon and shield. His right bicep carries the wicked scar from a blade. The large blade of a greataxe can be seen just over the broad shoulders of the man, obviously to be used for larger game or dealing insurmountable pain. You can see a horned helm under one arm, carried now as he cares not for the limited vision it bestows him, yet its ornate design is suited for one that would care to strike fear into his intended targets.

Stopping about two hand lengths away, the face of a very young man takes in all around him. His green eyes are clear, a bit narrow in their gaze, but seem to be hiding a secret in this warrior. His shaggy dark brown hair hangs to the shoulders, where it meets a face of remarkable likeness. He nods, approvingly, once he takes in the gathered group, and readies his gear. "I am Baylen. Let's go kick some teeth in..."

He dons his helm, taps his shield with his battleaxe, and prepares to head into the depths of Gordon's Keep...

Of medium build and height Gaskon ‘ El Árbol’ possess the natural athleticism and strength that comes from having been spent most of his young life outdoors amongst the people and animals that inhabit the mountainous regions of his home.

With Short brown hair often unkempt and dark hazel eyes set amongst a face that looks older, from constant exposure to the elements, than his actual young years would normally bestow. With an aspect and bearing that is perhaps considered coarse by finer company and sometimes irreverent to those that do not know him well.

A local from the region north of Gordon, Damaco's family were sheep herders thru and thru...

He stands at about six foot, and has brown reddish hair if you look hard enough that is. It falls several inches down past his shoulders and most would describe it as ratty and, or unkept, and is most of the time kept held back by a leather cord.

A muscular build with lean emphesis he is quick and wiriy. He has the scars of work over his arms and has a fingerless glove covering his left hand. His right hand has a leather band on the middle finger. Wearing leathers collected from different armors at different times he has pieced together his armor and it almost dosent look like he is poor, Almost...

His boots are of decent make but will need replacment soon if he keeps wearing them in as much as he has recently. And a backpack of cheep make addorns his back, a short sword and quiver hang at his hip on either side and a bow on a strap on his back for easy access. Two daggers were on a bandoiler look a like but he gave one to the emigma Siv on his first time into the Keep shortly before he was put asunder by foolish haste...

As the door of the tavern slams shut violently, silence strikes the room. A red-haired woman whom many would refer to as intimidating takes a look around before choosing a table in the back, and sitting down alone. Her mind is set on drinking beer to escape the cold outside, and she seems to care very little about the scene she just caused.

She is not a particularly large woman, but her posture and muscled body are unusual for a woman. Her appereance radiates a strange mix of calmness and brutality not commonly seen in Europe, and it's hard to get a grasp of her intentions. Her face has obviously been hardened by cold weather, and if you look closely it's almost as if it hints about a troubled story.

She carries a large axe with her at all times, and a wise person knows not to ask her to put her precious possesion aside. She often seems to be very uninterested in the feelings of others, although she will not hesitate to give a helping hand if there is personal gain involved. Her trust is definately a hard thing to gain, and it's questionable if it's wise to become too friendly with a brute like her in the first place.

Sitting in the dark, scared of what or who might loom out there, she curses at her weakness, about the strength she lost over the last days. Barely able to keep her eyes open she tries to rub herself warm. Feeling how much weight she has lost makes her shiver. 'How long will I be able to keep wandering like this without food, without help?' she wonders while desperation tries to sneak in.

Stubbornly she shakes her head and lifts her tormented body up while using the cold, sturdy, unmovable wall as support and walks into the evening sun.

As she closes her eyes against beeing blinded by the light she opens her senses to feel the still warm wind and hear the music of nature. Memories of her friends and parents singing and dancing in the sun unfold to be quickly replaced by a feeling of loss. She will never see her parents again, and she has no idea where her friends are, or even where she is.

Struggling against her feelings she makes her way to the stream closeby, where she falls on her knees seeing those hollow eyes, with dark circles around them, those thin cheeks and that long dirty uncombed hair.

Boys did always stare after her, some even whistled, but she never realized that she was a pretty girl. Not until seeing this 5-foot 'skeleton', dressed in that dirty torn habit, staring back at her.

Trying not to look at her image in the water she tries to wash herself as good as possible, hindered by the wrappings around her hands and fingers which make her unable to use fingers in a seperate way.

Struggling to get back on her feet again she looks at the ruins she took her refuge in, hoping to find a dry spot for the night. 'Ironic' she says to herself,' little Siv did always sing and tell stories about castles, little Siv even had dreams about living in one one day'

Rodrigio is an odd fellow. Obviously very young, this medium height man with a "well-fed" build seems to walk very carefully, eyes constantly roving. When someone acknowledges him, his round face splits in a wide, gap-toothed smile.

Though shabbily dressed in tunic, kilt, and cloak, he carries a serviceable hunting crossbow on a finely crafted leather sling and a new leather backpack, though it appears to be rather crudely hand-sewn. On the road, his well-worn traveling staff is always gripped in a meaty paw. Other than these items, he carries a couple of pouches on a leather strap and a wooden quarrel box on his belt.

To those that know him, he seems personable and open, though his eyes constantly jump to whatever's going on around him. Speaking to him in a busy tavern is a distracting chore, since he glances at everyone that enters or leaves, at roving barmaids and even at the guy in the corner that lifts his beer a little too quickly to his lips, all while engaging in quick-witted conversation. Like his attention, however, his conversation jumps from topic to topic, almost without pause. Though he always seems to entertain, his youth is apparent in conversation, as well as appearance.

Early in the morning, before most of the villagers are awake, an eldery woman goes out for a morning walk. She is humming cheerfully to herself and enjoying the peacefulness of it all. Her body is torn by age, but it does not seem to bother her much. She is clearly from the upper classes of society, since there is something about the way she moves that tells a story of former glory. She is examining leaves and rocks as she goes, although it takes her some effort due to her painful bent back. She has been called a crazy old bat more times then she can remember by the villagers for her behaviour, but she just keeps on doing what she likes, smiling and waving at the people passing her by. It's such a beautiful morning, afterall.

She is wearing dark brown leather boots and a vest that matches. Underneath her vest she wears a silk shirt, and like most decent women she also wears a long darkgrey skirt. There are however a few things about the way she dresses that make her stick out a bit from the masses. She is always carrying a backpack with her that seemes far too heavy for her, and around her neck/shoulders she always ties a blanket, just incase it gets chilly..