Fantasy Mercs Character Profiles

[Broomhandle45]

And here we are, the creation rules.

They're not concrete, again, 1.0. Do not take everything I say in how these work as gospel, I will likely add more as my comfort grows and give people opportunities to rework concepts, give in universe reasons, etcera.

Any discussions to character creation should be over yonder in the OOC so this thread doesn't get swarmed to the gills with questions or what have you.

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Name: Samren Gwenna Horne

Job: Black Lion Leader
Age: 32
Height: 5'9
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Green

Backstory:
The only daughter to Duke Horne, who was the ruler of the Duchy of Wybrook, which just happened to be the border territory that sustained numorous offensives in the War in it's earlier years. Unfortunately, Wybrook was lost to Furese, and Samren lost her mother and father to the fighting and escaped only by the martial skill of Wybrook's retainers, many of whom still had loyalty to Lord Horne. However, Lord Horne was not popular for marrying a Skanian woman, even more so that she practiced her religion within his walls and saw Samren as little more than a heathen child from a whore mother.

Luckily for Samren, Duke Horne's retainers were exceptionally skilled, as much of Horne's duties were fighting of Furesen offensives and many took to the regional Dukes as merecenaries, offering Samren sanctuary for skill. It was an odd way for a noble daughter to grow up, she lived in a world of stark contrasts, where nobody but the loyalty of her father's retainers saw her safe, and everyone viewed her as a stain on their property. She was taught the way of the sword through her loyal retainers, how to fight, how to survive. It was an unfortunate reality that she had nowhere to go, no friends to call on, so she made her own.

Samren's first battle was at eighteen, and then she never stopped fighting. Under the banner of her father's former heraldry: A Black Lion. She became known as a Mercenary, one that didn't discriminate sides in a long and plodding war. Due to her noble upbringing, she was able to secure a number of contacts on either side and a impressive number of well trained soldiers, who either grow tired of fighting in some noble's war or simply wanted better pay. The Black Lion banner is something of a notorious iconography in the recent days of the war, and the professionalism and almost disturbing passiveness of their leader to do the tasks they are hired for is well renown.

Personality:
Samren is less of a noble and more of a war veteran. A vast majority of her life has been around violence, around the concept of people that you can trust with your life and repay it in kind. She harbors no fondness for nobility, but she is rather well versed in court etiquette through the lessons of her father's former retainers. Despite her passive involvement with the war and how it ebbs and flows, she harbors no concern or care for either side. She sees the Black Lions as a safe haven for the people like her: The ones that do not fit into the nobility's perfect view of the poor and impoverished.

To that end, she is a harsh mother. She expects people to do as they are ordered, because she knows she can do it herself. She values loyalty and honesty, and understands that reality is never what you want it to be, but even so, she holds herself to the standards that she holds everyone else. Nobody gets left behind, nobody is left alone. This has, at times, been as much of a problem as it is a benefit, as Samren is somewhat known for taking in 'strays'. Due to the influences of her mother at a young age, she pays homage to Donar, Son of Wodan.

Abilities:
Perceptive +1
Intimidating +1
Charismatic +2
Tough +2
Vigorous +2
Iron-Willed +2
Knowledge (Noble Etiquette) +2
Connected +2 (Furese Nobles, Albion Nobles)
Famous +2
Combat Expert +2
Knowledge (Mercenary Leader) +3
Position of Power +3


Weaknesses:
Ineptitude (Cartography) -3
Code of Honor (No One Left Behind) -3
Soft-Spot (Skanian cultural items) -2
Stubborn -2
Fish Out Of Water (Nobility) -2
Hatred -1 (Dishonesty)
Kind-Hearted -1
Pacifist -1
Sensitivity (Her Family) -1

 

[dramamine213]

NAME: Kennarun ( meaning "to have knowledge of secret lore" in Old Norse, which I'm taking a thematic liberty to say this should fly being from Skania. )
RACE: Ogre
NATIONALITY: Skanian
AGE: 37
SEX: Female
GENDER: Ambiguous
HEIGHT: 7'4"
WEIGHT: 256 lbs.

PHYSICAL:
To put it lightly, she's a huge bitch. Physically only, though. Cresting slightly over seven feet, and adorned with the padding of an oft satiated vigorous diet, Kennarun is a wall of a woman. She would easily be described as a handsome woman.

Despite hailing from Skania, she dresses rather well for someone of her origin and stature. Her clothing is tailored to fit comfortably and is made up of decent materials. Beneath her snazzy attire are constricting bindings that press her unfortunately large bosom into a flatter and more useful contour. Her build is sturdy, matronly, and certainly womanly.

Another layer deep is her dusky grey skin, mottled with slightly darker small grey patches in no rhyme or reason to their placement. Kennarun has no alliance with razors, taking pride in her natural physique. This is more evident with close proximity, offering an odoriferous bouquet of natural muskiness with scented hints of pine, leather, and rose among the fecund pungency.

Atop her head lays a pair of thick and ribbed black-brown horns, sweeping back seventeen inches from root to tip. Sprouting from above her hairline over her temples, she keeps her grey-white tresses well groomed and commonly restrained in a braid tied off with a piece of leather cording. In Kennarun's case, the shag carpet matches the drapery.

Golden yellow eyes sit brightly alert on either side of her large Roman nose. Below lay a thick pair of naturally darker grey lips that share the same darker dusky hue with all of her intimate and internal skin surfaces, from gums to the inner workings of her reproductive system.

Her lightly pointed ears sport two pair of gold earrings, all four being identical. Another pair lay hidden beneath her bosom's bindings. Her right thigh has a series of tattooed tally marks, numbering in the thirties, done in black with no uniformity outside the standard cluster of fives.

Beneath her nearly always gloved hands is a spot of shame; her nails. Loathing the thick black nails, she meticulously grooms them each night to hide them in gloves for nearly all waking (and sleeping) hours of the day. Her toe nails are equally concealed and pedicured. With such carefully maintained hands and feet, they are surprisingly soft if allowed to be touched or seen.

PERSONALITY:

The best means to describe Kennarun is a walled garden. The cold and stony woman conceals an inner blossoming warmth, rarely leaving the gate open for any to trespass.

She's an expert at keeping business and pleasure separate, but is susceptible to becoming engrossed in either should something interesting arise.

A creature of habit to a fault, Kennarun has a series of private rituals that she is defensive about when questioned on, despite how harmless or odd they seem to be to outside observers. In fact, she is rather defensive on nearly any questions that seem to pry into her in any capacity, putting off an air of awkwardness when it comes to conversation aimed at her personally while having fluid ease with discussion on any other topic.

Indulgence is common in down time, finding peace in vice. The distraction through intoxication, gluttony, or more intimate arrangements (preferably all of the above), Kennarun lacks self-control when a good time is to be had. Escapism seems to be something she's fond of when it comes to spending the spoils of war.

BACKGROUND:

Kennarun was not born Kennarun. In time, she has come to adopt this name as it was given to her by her now deceased grandfather whom was a wizened elder of the thorpe she grew up in. This title was given to her due to her keen sense of hearing and a memory unrivaled in her small originating village. She takes no tribal name, no family name, and no birth name, wishing the past stays there buried with nearly the entirety of her family.

Departing at a young age, against her desires to do so, she found herself growing accustomed to a nomadic and somewhat solitary life over the next decade and a half of her life. Leaving no husband or children in her swift departure from home, Kennarun has yet to look back.

Her ability to adapt to social situations has granted her fortuitous positions working as bodyguards, bouncers, bandits, and now mercenary work. She holds no allegiance to either side of the current and ongoing war, and prefers to keep it that way by maintaining a quiet balancing act that plays out in tit-for-tat moves from once side to the other.


ABILITIES: (TOTAL = +24)

Magic (Purifying) +2
Agile +1
Armored +2
Beautiful +1
Charismatic +2
Dexterous +2
Intimidating +2
Tough +2
Knowledge (Anatomy) +1
Knowledge (Illness) +1
Perceptive +3
Smart +2
Combat Expert +1
Walking Arsenal (Mace & Small Xbow) +2


DISABILITIES: (TOTAL = -24)

Bizarre Appearance -1
Compulsion (Hand and Foot Care) -2
Dependence (Alcohol) -1
Dependence (Drug) -2
Fear (Crowds) -1
Fussy -2
Impaired Sense (Smell) -2
Impulsive (Vices) -1
Lecherous -1
Outcast -1
Quirk (Several small rituals such as spreading a thin line of salt around her sleeping area or else she won't go to bed, arranging her personal belongings in her bag in a very specific order before departure, etc.) -1
Rival (Sibling) -2
Secret (Fetishes) -2
Secret (Outcast Story) -1
Sensitivity -1
Soft Spot (Hairy Men) -2

 

[Jernfalk]

Name: Lutevic Alard
Job: Mercenary spellcaster
Age: 27
Place of origin: Albion, Capital of Albion.
Race & Ethnicity: Human, Skanian.

Backstory:

Lutevic, born of House Alard, born in a golden cradle, spent his early days accompanying his father on meetings with other important nobles, learning finances and one martial ability of his liking. The man was being prepared to be the future of the House bringing power and respect to his name like many others before him.
All would have probably proceeded as planned for him and the family if it wasn't for the clever scheming of his most deathly rival: Rillus Augustend, who like him, was raised from the womb to lead his House and prosper. However, in order to do so, Rillus hired an assassin to attack the son of the Monarch and planted false proof that the rogue was the head of House Alard, causing Lutevic to be
charged with High Treason and face execution.
Thankfully, short before Royal Guards showed up on his home, Lutevic was already gone. With the help of a merchant who was friend of the family, he sneaked out of the city and rode a horse until he reached the limits of Albion. Many took his fleeing as definitive proof of his blame and, since he had escaped the realm, the Monarch decided to brand him banished from Albion and removing his titles and personal riches from him, leaving the path open for Rillus' propaganda to make Lutevic known as "Lutevic the Traitor".
The truth is that Lutevic could not have been the assassin, for at the time of the crime, the man was in fact sharing a bed with the wife of another prominent noble of the realm. Even knowing he was framed, Lutevic could never step forward and reveal his alibi, for that would incur the wrath of the woman's family about with the families of his future wife, painting in mud the name of his House.
Upon reaching Furese, Lutevic began doing small jobs for the locals who were willing to give him a bed and some meals until he was found by Samren Gwenna Horne, Leader of the Black Lions. The reason behind that choice of hers is yet unknown to him.

Personality:

Lutevic is a rather polite by creation, however his fierce spirit sometimes takes his and firm remarks or sarcastic observations can be heard leaving his mouth. Used to a life where those who speak to him are respectful and well-versed with words, he struggles to speak to those who do not bear a title or wear a crown, often sounding rude and demeaning towards those.
Apart from his charismatic shot on the foot, he makes special effort into keeping himself clean and well presented, often fleeing from manual labor if by any means possible to avoid shaming himself by showing ineptitude at such crude tasks. Lutevic has also adopted the habit of doing daily prayers to the Saint of Justice, hoping to one day march inside of Albion's Capital and striking down his rival for what he has done to him.

Abilities:

Pros(+16):
-> Beautiful (+3)
-> Intimidating (+1)
-> Quick (+1)
-> Intuitive (+2)
-> Knowledge (Noble Etiquette) (+2)
-> Magic (Elemental) (+3)
-> Perceptive (+1)
-> Smart (+2)
-> Connected (Merchant of Albion) (+1)

Cons(-17):
-> Rude (-1)
-> Compulsion (Prayer) (-1)
-> Fussy (Tidy Clothing) (-2)
-> Fish Out Of Water (Commoners) (-1)
-> Frail (-1)
-> Ineptitude (Manual Labor) (-1)
-> Infamous ("the Traitor") (-3)
-> Outcast (Capital of Albion) (-2)
-> Rival (Rillus Augustend) (-3)
-> Secret (Affair/Alibi) (-3)

Total: -1