Player Characters (PCs) are usually Adventurers, Townsfolk, or Travelors. They are allowed to create and guide their character as they see fit. The play the game with no inside information, but gain starting gold, can earn XP, can ear Royalty Points, and all the other
Tacitus was born Reginn Hrafnsson, to a Norse jarl, Hrafn Bergstrom and native Dawnlander Elysa Braun. In his early childhood, he learned seafaring and how to navigate the waters of Dawnland. This came easy to Tacitus, due to his long line of norse ancestry and the fact that his father was his teacher. Who was considered one of the greatest explorers to ever have sailed. The art of war was also part of his daily practice: axe, shield, spear, sword and bow. At the age of 10, Tacitus’ village was raided by pirates (slavers). Norse warriors defended the village with ease, but among the chaos many younglings were taken, Tacitus among them. After being sold into slavery, the young boy was eventually conscripted into the Reman military, due to his knowledge of warfare. A new name was also given to him to better fit in among the Reman ranks. In his service, Tacitus served as a Speculatore. Some of his roles consisted of scout, bodyguard, and assassin. Amongst his peers he was as Umbra, which means “shadow” in the Reman tongue. Once his ten-year contract was complete Tacitus began working as a sellsword. His sword and bow are expensive, but he has never failed at a mission or a contract. For his bow strikes true and his sword cuts clean.
Taran O' Whaldoon
I was born in a small farming village, called Tubberclare, it is not found on any map. Tubberlcare means the well of the plain in my homeland. It is located between Blarniland, the shining city on the hill and the port town of Tir Grasta on the west coast of the Emerald Folk lands. It was a quiet little village in my youth, most of the time, with a small inn and tavern house where travelers could always find a clean bed, a hot meal and a strong drink to ease their weary bones. The stables and village blacksmith were next to the inn. Not only was our blacksmith, Hagrund Oxblood, the best smith in all the land at his craft, his wife Yallana was a master leatherworker as well. People would come to our village from places I had never heard of just to commission works from them both.
Our town also had a barracks that housed around 50 or more guards dispatched there from Blarniland. Our village produced most of the food for the city's inhabitants so the guards were sent to our village to keep it safe, for the bureaucrats that depended upon it. Some in the village would whisper that the guards were there to spy on us, but who can truly say. The most beautiful and mysterious structure in our village was the church. To this day I have never seen another building like it in all of my travels. It was built entirely of stone and had the appearance of having grown where it stood rather than built by skills of the hand. It had no walls, only columns that looked like petrified trees holding up the stone roof with their heavy stone branches. In the winter the Druids would erect thick walls of woven thatch and latticework that they would hang from between the columns to keep away the cold. None in our village could remember when or who had built the church, only that it had always been there and had never changed. The rest of the village consisted of 24 farms that produced everything from apples to zucchini. Each farm looked like a small village in and of itself with several homes in a cluster about the barns, storehouses and workshops where the family clans lived and worked. At harvest each year the population would grow several fold as young men and women from the nearby towns would come to work the fields. It was a festive time, so I always looked forward to harvest. The colorful tent encampments of the Greeks and Dwarves that would come to work the fields were a wonder to see. Best of all, were the colorful stories of adventure and magic that they had to share around the fires after the day's labors were done. I believe it was those same stories of adventure and magic that set my young mind on the path I walk today. I would spend all my spare time seeking out knowledge and lore on the subject of magic and spell casting. This was not an easy task for a young farm boy in a purely agricultural region, but I did manage to glean bits of the information I longed for from travelers at the inn from time to time. These tasty morsels of arcane knowledge only served to stoke the fires of my curiosity more and more. As I grew older, my father would take me with him to the market in Blarniland. After our market day was done, father would give me a few coins and I would rush to the scribes shop where I would search for any book I could find on the subject of magic. I had quite the library for a man my age back then. I would study and try the things I would read in these books. At times I would even seekout the advice of the druids whom were always glad to offer sound advice along with a sermon. Thus it went as my youth slipped away and I grew into manhood.
My father gave me his blessing when I had told him of my plans to attend the mage guild and become a student of the arts. When I had saved enough money I traveled to Armskirk where I began my studies in the mage guild, Order of the Emerald Heart, under the guidance of the masters there. I was there only a little more than a year and a half when word came that my father had fallen ill. My masters gave me leave so that I was able to return home to care for my father and take care of the farm for as long as it took. Father never recovered enough from his illness to manage the farm again, so it was up to me. I took over and became master of the farm for the next 30 years. In that time I married, raised a family and grew what some boasted to be the biggest and most flavorful produce in all the valley. Some were even heard to say that I must be using some kind of enchantments upon my fields to get crops like I did. It was not the life I had dreamed of in my youth, but it was a good life. But as they often say, all good things must come to an end, and a tragic end that changed my life forevermore.
It was just after the first week of harvest six years ago when the black tide of villainy fell upon the village of Tubberclare. I and many others from the village had traveled to Blarniland with the first offerings of the season for market. Knowing the village would be short of men and guards, murderous bandits attacked the day after our caravan had left. They killed all that stood in their path without mercy and regardless of age. What they could not carry, they burned and slaughtered. By the time the guards and villagers had regrouped to rally against the invaders it was too late for my family and my farm. The bandits scattered to the winds at the first signs of armed and organized retaliation, but the irrevocable damage to our peaceful lives had been done. My entire life in Tubberclare was nothing more than ash and cinders when I returned. The only solace I was given came by word of the Captain of the guard, who gave his word that the bandits had been tracked down and slaughtered like the dogs they were. He swore an oath to me that "none had escaped." With nothing of my old life to keep me in Tubberclare, I resolved to return to the Order of the Emerald Heart and resume my training, if they would have me. After burying my family, I helped my friends and neighbors in the village as best I could before gathering what was salvageable from the ashes of my home and setting off for Armskirk. The Order welcomed me with open arms and compassionate hearts. After a few days rest I began once again the training I had begun so long ago.
Thus ends the age of Taran O'Whaldoon the farmer, for now is the age of Taran O'Whaldoon the wandering mage of the Emerald Heart.
Was born into the proud Bonegnawer Clan, a tribe known for their fierce combat skills and unyielding determination. From a young age, Gorsnag displayed a natural affinity for battle, demonstrating remarkable strength and tactical prowess that set him apart from his peers.
As he grew older, Gorsnag's ambition extended beyond the immediate horizons of the Bonegnawer Clan. He was not content with merely being a skilled warrior; he dreamed of leading his people to new heights of glory and recognition. Inspired by the tales of their pantheon's valor and the history of the ork tribes, Gorsnag yearned to carve a legacy of his own.
When the Bonegnawer Clan journeyed to the multinexus world of Dawnlands seeking new opportunities and challenges, Gorsnag saw this as a chance to prove his leadership capabilities. The unfamiliar environment tested the tribe's resilience, but Gorsnag's adaptability and determination became evident as he helped his clan settle and thrive in this new land.
As the years passed, Gorsnag's reputation as a fearsome warrior grew. He demonstrated his prowess on the battlefield as a mercenary, his strategic acumen earning him respect among his fellow fighters. Yet, his ultimate goal remained unchanged: to guide his people to greatness.
Gorsnag's experiences as a mercenary exposed him to the diverse cultures and factions of Dawnlands. He learned to navigate the intricate web of alliances and rivalries, honing his diplomatic skills alongside his combat abilities. He began to understand that true leadership went beyond brute strength; it required strategic thinking, charisma, and the ability to inspire.
Despite his achievements, Gorsnag knew that leading his people was a destiny he had to earn. He sought out mentors among the ork elders, learned from their wisdom, and listened to their stories of past leaders. He understood that leadership was a mantle of responsibility, a commitment to the well-being of his clan and their legacy.
As Gorsnag continues his journey as a mercenary, his ultimate goal remains the same: to lead the Bonegnawer Clan to strength, honor and wisdom. He carries the teachings of his pantheon, the history of his people, and the lessons learned on Durakar in his heart. With each challenge he faces, he grows stronger, not only as a warrior but as a future leader who seeks to unite his tribe and etch their name in the annals of history.
Up on a mountain called Lamb, above the clouds, you will find Libelle. Born of a multi-race, her ancestors were named Dragon. She is called Lady Libelle of Lamb Weyr. Humans weren’t always a kind race, forcing her family into seclusion. The humans have their own tales of the Melungeon people. Stories that refer to people of multiple ethnicities. People who hid in the mountains until the pigment had faded from their progeny. The other part of the story, the untold, tells of a different species. Dragons hid away to dilute the traits that caused the humans to call them monsters. Lady Libelle is the 6th generation of her kind. Finally, after generations, they are able to walk among the humans with minimal glances. By no means does she look “human,” but more have become accepting. For others, her features can be muted in a dimly lit room. It’s difficult to note the remaining scales; horns are present, but they are accepted. She always looks presentable, horns shined, makeup and hair perfect, and wings neatly folded against her back. Do not be fooled, though. She is fiercely proud of her heritage. She has accepted herself and found others who are accepting of her kind; who allow her to be her true self. She is a dragon, she is human, she is Melungeon. She is Lady Libelle of Lamb Weyr.
Was born to a lower class mining family. One older sister named Eldrin and Two twin brothers named Fenrir and Fenris.
Our last names are not based on a sir name or maiden name. It's based on our characteristics and skills.
An old ranger taught me how to hunt in my early years. As I got better he noticed something about me. That I was light on my feet. So he and his fellow rangers and hunters would keep calling me light feet, but I didn't like the sound of it.
So, i looked at that old crow that taught me all I know. Told him that my name is Fenric Lightfoot from now on. And It was and always will be.
Also due to my ability to hunt without the animals hearing me walk or run in the forests of the dawn lands. Able to move passed people in the streets with swiftness. My nimbleness granted to me by my size and weight.
As I grew older I had a fondness for music.
Attributed by the song birds in forests. Sometimes I would sleep more soundly out in the wilderness than in my own bed.
Nonetheless. I slowly learned to beat a drum and play a rhythmic tune on a lute.
I entertained my neighbors and family until I got talented enough.
Then I said my farewells and set out on my adventures to find a place where I belong as Fenric Lightfoot.