Wilhelm is tall and stocky, traits common to the people of Volberg. He stands just around 6' 4" tall, weighing roughly 200lbs. He has blue eyes and messy, medium-length black hair. He has a light complexion, but is often somewhat tanned from his days spent outdoors on the mostly-unshaded hills of Volberg and there are some visible scars on his face as well.
Across his right eye he has an eyepatch from an unfortunate accident involving a particularly aggressive hawk when he was much younger. His typical attire consists of blacks and greys which is the same as most people of Volberg, particularly the Raptor Corps. From his belt always hangs his family's sword - the Eagle's Perch - and on his back he usually carries a shield as well. On his left shoulder or in his left hand you can usually find Eva, Wilhelm's current favorite hawk who accompanies him on most excursions outside the walls of Volberg.
Due to the harsh cold of Fellenor, especially in the foothills of Volberg, Wilhelm gives priority to warmer clothing and armor. He wears a thick layer of insulated armor padding over a brigandine vest, and over the top of all of that he wears his Raptor Corps surcoat of black and grey. His shield bears the symbol of an eagle mid-flight, representing the key advantage of the Corps knights. On his hands he wears thick, leather falconer's gloves so that Eva can perch on his hand if needed, and for footwear he has spiked boots that help with climbing and keeping his footing in hilly terrain.
Wilhelm is a very serious man, the stark opposite of what he was like in his youth. His career, and the nature of his homeland in general, has made him very untrusting of others until he has gotten to know them well, and he is perfectly fine with doing things himself if it means he doesn't have to worry about potential treachery. This, combined with his constant animal companionship, has made it so that he is generally a lone wolf.
Of course, his lone wolf qualities do not mean that he's unsociable or socially awkward. On the contrary, his noble upbringing (though it means very little now) has left him knowing exactly how to act in high society, the proper manners to use with those of greater or lesser birth, and when these formalites matter as opposed to when they don't. He also enjoys spending time with his fellow Corps members, his family and his friends when the time allows for it. Any social situation in which he is able to let his guard down is refreshing to Wilhelm, but they are so few and far between that to many he might come off as distant and overly serious.
Wilhelm has been destined to lead his hometown since birth, but his only real desire and main motivacting factor in life is the safety of the people of Volberg. The power he will gain upon his father's death means nothing to him if he can't use it to protect his people, and he has never been one to care about wealth. In fact, many of the Raptor Corps Falconers are better equipped than he and it wouldn't be easy to pick him out of a lineup as the sole wealthy member.
The primary goal in Wilhelm's life is ending the 'war' with the bandit clans once and for all. The region of Volberg has not know peace since it was initially settled, and his one true desire is to allow the region to experience peace once again. He has yet to figure out exactly how he will accomplish this goal, but part of the reason for his treks east is to try to figure out just what he can do to put an end to the bandit menace.
The region known as Volberg is a harsh and deadly one, but you wouldn't know it by simply passing through. Its rocky peaks are home to countless species of majestic birds, and the rolling hills - though often snowy - are serene and quiet most of the year. For the few months when the snow is melted and the nearby mountain passes are clear, though, the hills of Volberg are engulfed in turmoil as the mountain bandit clans try to claim the land that they've been after for centuries. It is no surprise, then, that the people of Volberg are very hardy individuals, accustomed to war (or at least the hardships that accompany it). Wilhelm von Trahl is no exception.
Childhood Wilhelm is the only son of the current Lord of the region, though the title is purely ceremonial now. Years ago the noble titles lost all meaning in Fellenor, and the only real power the few remaining households possess is wealth. In Volberg, however, there is still a tradition of treating the noble von Trahl family as if they ruled by right, and as such Wilhelm grew up like any young noble of the old days would. If he wanted something, he got it - he was waited on hand and foot - and commonfolk bowed to him in courtesy when he passed by. They all thought highly of him despite his lack of accomplishment in life, and he knew it. All of the praise at such a young age made Wilhelm spoiled and selfish, and the thought that he could do anything made him into a 'wild child.'
These traits made it difficult for his father when it came time for Wilhelm to begin learning the ways of his people, namely the traditional pastime of falconry. It was Gunther von Trahl's skill as a falconer that earned him the rights to this land some 200 years prior, and every von Trahl - as well as many other young Volberg children - began learning the trade when they turned 6 years old. Little Wil was not too keen on keeping with the tradition, much prefering to play around the town and cause mischief, so Lord Gustav had to go to great lengths to get the training started.
The first couple years were slow as more time was spent hunting down Wil than on actually teaching him how to handle a bird of prey. Even when he was present for instruction he was a bad student, and often the sessions would end without any real progress being made. This didn't bother Wil at all, he didn't get the point of training birds and wanted nothing to do with the filthy beasts. It wasn't until he was nearly 9 years old that Wilhelm began to see the utility of falconry.
It was in the summer of that year and the bandit clans had already begun making their usual raids on the surrounding areas. This year was different from the last ones, though. The raids were more frequent and their forces seemed to be larger than normal. Every adult in Volberg knew what was coming, but to Wil it was completely unexpected - this was a siege year.
Seeing the falconers in action during the attempted siege was all it took for little Wil to gain respect for the art. He wanted to be like those men defending the city, tough in battle with eyes and ears all over the field. No one could launch a surprise attack on them, he thought. He began to really pay attention to his training, and just in time too - once he turned 10 he'd begin learning combat as well, and discipline was much more important for that than it was for bird-handling.
When combat training began he was paired up with another boy his age, and the two were meant to be sparring partners whenever it came time for practice. The boy's name was Alfonso and, like Wil, he could trace his lineage all the way back to the original settlers of Volberg. His father was a member of the Raptor Corps, and had already been teaching the boy some tricks since he was younger, so when the inexperienced Wil first sparred against him it was very one-sided. This did not leave a good first impression between the two boys; on the one hand, Wil was still a spoiled child despite his newfound respect for his training, and being beaten so easily was a blow to his ego. On the other hand, Alfonso saw Wil as undeserving of the priveleges he'd been granted his whole life. After this defeat Wil saw Alfonso as his rival, and he was determined to best the boy in combat. He devoted his free time to practice, even attempting to do as he saw the other falconers do and incorporate his bird into the fight. No matter what he tried, though, his rival was always his superior.
One day when Wil was 13 years old would change his life forever. It began as any other, and culiminated like usual with a sparring match between the two training partners. However, there was an unusual factor at play for this fight. Wil had been training to use one of his fathers other birds instead of his own, as he figured a different bird might give him the advantage he needed. This bird was much more aggressive than the one he had been using, and Alfonso' hawk did not like the new bird's presence. As their match began the two hawks began quarreling with each other over the boys' heads, and as the more agile avian of Wil's dodged an attack from the other it flew directly at Wil's face and clawed at it with its talons. Wil was left badly wounded with cuts across his face and missing his right eye.
Lord Gustav was furious at the events that took Wil's eye, and had Alfonso's hawk killed for the attack on his son. Alfonso hated to see his own pet killed for something that was clearly Wil's fault, and what was once a one-sided rivalry became a mutual, bitter disdain. Both boys had lost a lot in the fight, and neither would ever forgive the other for what happened to them that day.
Adulthood Wilhelm eventually recovered from his injuries, though the healing process was long and painful. When he was finally able to begin training again it came with the realization that he'd need to work much harder than he had before - much harder than anyone else, in fact - if he wanted to be like the people he so admired in his youth. Having only one eye was a huge disadvantage, and to overcome it to match or surpass the other falconers would be a challenge. He did not give up with this realization, though, and he pushed forward even harder than he had before.
Roughly three years after he lost his eye, at 16 years old, it was time for him to officially join the Raptor Corps, and his training had paid off. Two years of pushing himself harder than he had ever done before made him one of the most promising new recruits, nearly on par with his rival Alfonso. He was a man now, he'd be fighting for his people like he had dreamed of since he was a child.
As a member of the Raptor Corps he spent a lot of his time away from home, travelling to other parts of Fellenor when the snow came to train with other militias and hone his scouting abilities, then returning home when the snow melted to fend off bandit raids and the occasional siege attempt. Most of this travelling was done alone, and as such he grew accustomed to solitude.
Five years ago, at the age of 27, he was ordered to spend a two-year period as a member of one of the local militias of Fellenor. The reason for this particularly unusual assignment was for Wilhelm, and thus Volberg, to get better acquainted with their fellow countrymen and the regions to the east in case it ever came time that the Raptor Corps would be called to war. He chose the small forest town of Caragane to the south for this stint and though he got to know his unit fairly well during the time, he was not sad when it was over.
It has been three years since he returned to normal Raptor Corps duties, and not much of interest has happened in Volberg in that time. Wilhelm mostly occupied the years in the other southern portions of Fellenor, but recently he has found himself in the vicinty of Caragane again. It is here that he first began to hear the rumors of strange occurences around the Wolfwood, rumors that, if true, do not bode well for the people of the area.
Volberg In the westernmost reaches of the Silverlands, at the edge of Fellenor's borders, lie the Demonspine mountains which are inhabited primarily by bandit clans. The bandits of the mountains have long since driven most of society away from their frozen peaks for fear of being pillaged and plundered on a regular basis. For the stubborn men and women of Volberg, however, their home is too precious to abandon to the brutes who would try to claim it.
Volberg is the name of both a region and a settlement, the region being that of some foothills in the northwestern portion of Fellenor's borderlands with the Demonspine mountains. The settlement is a fortified town on the top of one such hill, ruled by the noble von Trahl family. For over two centuries now the von Trahl's, and other peoples of Volberg, have mostly kept out of all the internal conflict surrounding their kingdom, instead focusing primarily on keeping the nearby bandit clans at bay.
Volberg's Falconers All of the importance of the hills to their inhabitants, as well as the reason they've been able to survive so long in the region, can be traced back to the strong tradition of falconry that has existed for generations. The first settlers of Volberg were drawn by the roosts of many different birds of prey that made the hills and peaks their homes, with the particular hill the town now rests on being one of the most heavily populated.
Originally, the pastime of falconry was used mainly for hunting and falconers from Volberg were paid well for their services aiding royal and noble hunts in various parts of the Silverlands. This culminated in one such falconer, a favorite in the court of King Asric Olovern, being granted lordship over the region of Volberg after years of exceptional service to the king. Taking the name von Trahl, after the hill he called his home, the new Lord Gunther von Trahl eventually returned to the region (now his own realm) and began gathering up the other falconers at their hilltop homesteads to begin construction of a proper settlement. Most answered the call, and within a few years there was a small-but-growing village consisting mostly of those skilled in the art of falconry.
It wasn't long before Gunther realized that being granted the land was less of a blessing than he initially thought. When Volberg was only inhabited by some falconer familes, living scattered throughout the hills and possesing little wealth to speak of, the area was mostly peaceful and free of the presense of the Demonspine bandits. Once the town of Volberg began to grow, though, it slowly started attracting the attention of the nearby bandit clans. Small raids became increasingly more common over the years, and within a decade there were rumors beginning to spread of a large attack being organized by one of the more ruthless clans, with the intent to overrun and capture the city and convert it into a new headquarters. Many residents believed such an attempt would be futile, given the rough terrain and their elevation advantage in the event of a siege, so the rumors were mostly ignored, even scoffed at in some cases.
As fate would have it the rumors turned out to be true, but fortunately for the Volbergers the attack was spotted early by multiple different birds from town. The birds, left on their own to fly around the hills while not out on a hunt, spotted the bandit clan coming in their bear-skin attire and, mistaking the men for actual bears, returned to their masters and indicated the sighting. Their masters were at the same time taken aback by the discovery of the bandit movement, as well as thrilled at the notion that they could use their hunting birds for scouting enemy movement as well. They began sending the birds back out specifically for scouting purposes, and with the information they gathered were able to set up defenses. Though lacking any formal combat training, the citizens of Volberg all mustered in the town and managed to fend of the unorganized invaders.
The victory was only temporarily sweet. They managed to protect their young settlement, but the attack was a wake-up call to the von Trahl's - without an army they would not be able to survive long. Only one clan had attacked this time, and they weren't very well organized, but what if they got organized and came in larger numbers? The attack was somewhat of a surprise this time, but even if it wasn't they could expect little help from their countrymen - the entire nation was in the middle of a succession war and everyone but them had long since abandoned the western reaches of the kingdom for the safer, more eastern territory. No, they would be on their own and if they wanted to keep the territory to themselves they'd need to learn to defend themsleves in a more organized manner.
The Volberg Raptor Corps After the first attempted siege by bandits, the aging Gunther von Trahl ordered the formation of a fighting force to defend Volberg from any future attacks. He had the few men in the city with real combat experience begin regular training sessions with the more able-bodied falconers, with the result being a particularly potent type of soldier that was at once proficient in close combat, a master falconer capable of scouting with birds of prey, and mobile in even the roughest of mountainous terrain.
This new, as-yet unnamed force would be put to the test only 3 years after its initial formation when another bandit clan attempted to take Volberg. This time proved even worse for the bandits, though, as the newly-trained falconers could now not only scout much farther ahead than their enemy, but also had the ability to take the fight to them. The raiding clan was easily routed before they could even reach Volberg, and the citizens rejoiced at the success of their new defenders. Lord von Trahl threw a large feast in their honor, and during a speech at the feast he officially dubbed them the Volberg Raptor Corps after the beasts that enabled their existance.
Centuries later, the Corps is known throughout Fellenor as an elite force in hilly or mountainous terrain, and Falconers of the Corps are widely regarded as the best scouts in the nation. Their numbers are never very large due to the consistently small population in Volberg when compared to other parts of Fellenor, and most Raptor Corps members keep to the defense of their homeland, so it is rare to more than one or two east of the Demonspine foothills at a time.
Gustav and Charlotte von Trahl The parents of Wilhelm von Trahl, and the current Lord and Lady von Trahl. Charlotte was a loving and doting mother, who was partially responsible for little Wilhelm's behavior as a child. Gustav was more strict in raising him, but he didn't go against Charlotte if she wanted to go easy on the boy.
Alfonso Wilhelm's old sparring partner and bitter rival. Though adults now, with their past far behind them, the two still don't see eye to eye and would prefer to avoid one another if possible. There is always a bit of hostility between the two even in the happiest of circumstances.
Cast-Iron Stomach will be revlavored to be a steadily built-up tolerance to poison from years of ingestion in small doses meant to build up just such a tolerance.
Although not strictly a reflavor, I suppose, I will be using the Animal Master theme to represent my character being a falconer, and thus will only use its features insofar as they relate to using the hawk minion. I won't use the level 5 feature (if we get there), for example, to train anything but new hawks or other birds of prey utilizing the same stats as the hawk, and I won't RP being good at dealing with any other type of animal.
As dwarves and their powers are generally based around the same sort of geography as what a Volberger lives in, most of the rest of the dwarven sturdiness features (like Stand Your Ground) don't really need to be reflavored. Other things, like the dwarf weapon training and related feats, won't get utilized with my build due to my preference for swords so I won't even worry about reflavoring them.
Additionally, if it's alright to do so, I plan to reflavor my plate armor as a brigandine worn underneath a Raptor Corps. surcoat.
If it helps, for potential excursions to Volberg or what have you, I imagine the town of Volberg looking similar to this, though with snow on it most of the time.
Vitals: Medium, 6' 4" tall, 200 lbs. 32 years old, hails from Volberg Languages: Common, Dwarven
Senses: 13 Insight, 18 Perception (22 with Eva), Low-light Vision
Encounter Powers [_] Second Wind [_] Distracting Attack [_] Dwarven Resilience [_] Power Attack
Daily Powers [_] Action Point
HP: HS: AC: Fort: Ref: Will:
Core 33 13 20 16 14 13
RndX 33 13
0 THP Surge: 8hp Init: +2 Speed: 5
Resist: none Saves: +5 vs. Poison (racial)
*In-effect* Stand Your Ground: I can reduce the distance of any forced movement effect done to me by 1. When an attack would knock me prone I can make a saving throw to avoid falling prone. Heavy Blade Expertise: +2 power bonus to all defenses against OAs. Animal Master: My animal companion (Eva the hawk) can take a move action when I do. Hawk's Eye: +4 to perception to spot creatures when within 10 squares of Eva (hawk).
When the revolution came, Callum Longstride saw the writing on the wall. As treasurer to the king, he could have been swept up, tried and executed with his royal employers, but instead he fled. By turning over whatever power and secrets he might have to the rising new powers of Fellenor, the Longstride family escaped the purge and found a humbler life of relative comfort in Caragane.
The Longstrides lean toward arcane aptitude and keen intellect, valuable traits in any system. Dortham Longstride is now a respected banker and merchant, one of the leading citizens of Caragane, and the fortunes of his three children are regular gossip in the town. Eldest son Ransol has showed great military promise, and continued to serve in the militia since his mandatory enlistment. He has earned the rank of captain, and is expected to take command should the militia go to war. His youngest sister, Emmaline, has just entered the service. She doesn't have her brother's talents, but most expect her to get her two years out of the way and take over the family businesses.
Dortham's first daughter, Jacqueline, may be the most intriguing of all. She is the first of this generation to master the "longstride," a magical knack allowing them to teleport a short distance under stress. Jacks never grew out of the intense curiosity of most children and after her militia duty, she was accepted at the University of Callanar, the capital of Fellenor.
Jacqueline blossomed in the rich intellectual life of Callanar, taking a loaded schedule of courses in a wide variety. History, alchemy, ancient languages, she wanted to learn it all. Dortham could pay the tuition, but when she started racking up large lab and book expenses, he threatened to cut her off. Instead, she started working to make up to difference. Apprenticed to Dremied Caulsen, she learned the myriad crafts of arcane artifice. Locks, clocks, clever little automata, Jacks worked on all of them in her spare hours. She knew little of his clients, but learned quickly not to ask questions, nor learn faces if she was to keep her job.
In her three years at university, Jacqueline never did specialize in a field. Nor did she develop a close relationship with any of her peers. There was that one time after she and Dovid created Clinging Essence successfully after four hours.. but it never went anywhere. When Ransol's letter described the troubles near the Wolfswood, her curiosity got the better of her again. She found it surprisingly easy to pack up her meagre possessions, get a leave of absence from the dean, and give Dremied notice. "Home," she thought, "It's probably nothing. Maybe I'll just take a break."
Jacqueline is a slight woman, not more than 5' tall. She ties her blonde hair back in a braid; she often fiddles with it when she's thinking. While not untidy, she generally looks ragged at the edges. Dark circles under her eyes show the years of late nights and her furrowed brow is a permanent crease on an otherwise youthful face. Her hands are rarely clean, usually stained with phoros powder or nightink or sparkling with brass filings.
Home from university, Jacks has broken out her old militia leathers. She wears a sturdy wool skirt (several years out of fashion in Callanar) because she likes the knot patterns along the hem and she's proud of the deal she haggled in buying it.
On her head or around her neck dangles a pair of goggles, enchanted to help her see in dim light. Her only jewelry is a bracelet, a gift from Dovid, and a brooch she uses on her cloak. The brooch is a curved metal disc about two inches across. A minor enchantment shows a cat's head peering out, as if alive.
Lastly, her pack, stretched by numerous tomes in the past, now somewhat too big for the few things she can truly call her own. She also wears her sword across her back. This too was a gift, from her brother Ransol, perhaps as a joke. She also carries a clever little crossbow, modified in her own workshop for easier loading and some arcane surprises.
Insatiable curiosity drives Jacqueline. Most often, she is nose-down in a book, and she'll only look up if she hears something she doesn't know. Anyone might suffer a steady barrage of questions should he capture her interest. She can be truly irritating if her target lets it go on, but when with a peer, she can display some wit.
When she has nothing to read and cannot find something to do, Jacks falls asleep. She can sleep anywhere, even standing up, and come back to wakefulness in a blink. She developed the habit at university, when she just couldn't find six or eight hours together to get a full rest. She has gotten good at it - she only needs about four hours a night to be well-rested.
Jacqueline is much more interested in things and magic than people, but that doesn't mean she's cut off. She loves her family deeply, and feels a swell of pride whenever she draws her sword, even if she generally uses two hands. A classic middle child, she has always strived to be noticed and is eager to please. Her deep studies of history have kindled in her a desire to be truly legendary, like the Longstrides from ages long past. Her scattered focus comes from a secret fear that she was meant for something great, and she doesn't want to do the wrong thing and miss it. Hence, she tries to do everything.
Knacks: Magic runs deep in the Silverlands, sometimes surfacing in certain families and bloodlines, and sometimes just out of the blue. They call them "knacks," these little magic talents that the lucky have. Some can harden their skin like rock, others fade from sight briefly, even breathe fire or frost. The knack takes no training, apparently instinctive, sometimes appearing even in children. The talents don't breed true, appearing for a generation or two, then vanishing for hundreds of years. Nonetheless, a family can definitely pass the chance of a knack down, and certain families are known for their knack.
Callanar: Capital of Fellenor, Callanar is the only big city in the nation. An ancient town, founded at a critical crossing of river and road, Callanar has weathered war and peace thanks to a vibrant and flexible culture. The Old City dates from the years of Thaharnol, a cramped maze of markets, homes and workshops. Melled's Wall separates the New City, and the grand plans of that king to create a modern, cosmopolitan capital. New City has wide avenues, a handful of grand palaces, and the University of Callanar. In the revolution, the New City suffered rioting and mob justice as the monarchy disintegrated.
Also, can we bring in gods from real-world pantheons, or would you prefer not to?
"It's dangerous to go alone, Jerk-wads!" (Borderlands 2)
“All right, I've been thinking. When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade! Make life take the lemons back! Get mad! I don't want your damn lemons! What am I supposed to do with these? Demand to see life's manager! Make life rue the day it thought it could give Cave Johnson lemons! Do you know who I am? I'm the man whose gonna burn your house down - with the lemons!” (Portal 2)
Kithas Swordhand, level 1 Human, Fighter Human Power Selection Option: Bonus At-Will Power Class Feature (Figher Weapon Talent) Selection: One-handed Theme: Gladiator Languages: Common and Elven Background: Forest (Perception)
FINAL ABILITY SCORES STR 18, CON 16, DEX 12, INT 8, WIS 12, CHA 10
STARTING ABILITY SCORES STR 16, CON 15, DEX 12, INT 8, WIS 10, CHA 10
Kithas came from a poor family before he joined the militia, refugees from one of the many towns that had fallen over the years, moving from Elros to Caragne in the hopes of earning more money than they did back home. Elros was named after a noble that volunteered his men to assist in the rebllion years ago and gave his life along side his men, which made it all the more unfortunate that it fell. When he was nine, he started training in the sword in anticipation of joining the local militia. His father was a swordsmith and proud that his son was interested in his work, even if it was only to swing a sword about. When he turned 16 he enrolled in the local militia. During the last days of his town's existance, scavengers and bandits assaulted the town and wounded his father, a member of the militia there. He saw this as an opportunity to redeem his family and an opportunity to do what he couldn't before. Protect his family.
He spent the required two years in the militia before returning to work with his father in the forge. He learned more about swords training with them and knew exactly what people like the militia wanted, helping his father greatly in his work by putting his knowledge of holding a sword to work in the forge. After a while his family didn't need him working the forge and wanted to expand their business into the nearby area, sending him daily on merchant missions throughout the kingdom. Despite his knowledge of the blade, his knowledge of people wasn't as good as it could be, but he compensated by letting the blades talk for themselves. He held show duels to demonstrate the quality, along with his own skill. He started to be known as a dueling merchant, traveling from town to town to sell and to fight.
After three years rumors of monsters coming from the woods worsened. During his travels he'd heard more and more rumors of the monsters and, although it was good for business, knew that this meant terrible things for his family and for Fellenor. He was worried about his home, and set off on the long treck back home to Caragne.
Kithas wears a cloak over his scale armor most of the time, believing that hiding his body type will help him in battle. He carries a longsword on his back made by his father, favoring the heavier blades to daggers. His short brown hair is covered by the hood of his cloak and his blue eyes have a small shine to them in the light, whether it's hope or just the light remains a mystery, even to his friends.
Kithas has taken his years learning from duels and put it into his personality. He knows that revealing too much too soon leaves no surprises when necessary and is thus reserved and quiet around those he does not know, preferring to let a blade speak for him. He's calm under pressure and determined in the face of defeat, his bravery carrying him through any situation. Although he's a staunch defender of justice, he's not willing to comprimise his own morals for the sake of the law. If he disagrees with something, he does what it takes to do what he thinks is right.
Once he's used to a person he starts to open up, feeling that he's seen enough to know whether or not he's threatened by a person. Despite not being as well educated as others, he's highly philosophical and inquisitive, curious of people and how their view differs from his own. Because of this, he hates no race and tries his hardest to see the light in people, so long as they aren't trying to kill him. This also leaves him somewhat detached from his enemies, seeing the evil as well and wanting to stand as the wall between his foe and his allies. Death doesn't worry him, and he knows that although death is sad, it is natural. He doesn't cry at death, but instead feels it as a challenge, something to overcome and prevent for those around him.
He's a steadfast friend, and you won't find anyone more loyal to who he feels closest to. Even if he does mess up every now and then, he tries his hardest to fix it and hates seeing his friends hurt or saddened.
Belen Traekson was born to Lilt and Togar Traekson twenty-something years ago. Belen, his mother and father, and his two siblings, one brother and one sister, both younger, lived in the town of Caragane, where Togar worked as a baker. Their family was neither rich nor poor, a very unremarkable bunch overall. Belen’s childhood was unmarked by any sort of events typical to adventurers. He didn’t study arcane lore, or martial arts, or swordplay. He didn’t show even the tiniest amount of psionic talent, and he never conversed with any kind of extraplanar entity. He did, however, learn to make bread, and other things that were similar to, but not quite the same as, bread.
If you had told someone who knew Belen at that time that the boy was destined to become the host of a primal spirit, they would’ve laughed in your face. If you had told Belen himself, he would’ve kindly explained to you that the heat was getting to you and you should sit down and have a drink of water. He didn’t want to become adventurer, he wasn’t yet sure what he wanted, but it seemed that everyone else wanted him to take over his father’s business after his mandatory stint in the militia, so he convinced himself that was his greatest desire.
When Belen turned 16, he picked up a crossbow, the first weapon he had ever attempted to use in his life. He wanted to learn to fight at least at a basic level before joining the militia, and a crossbow seemed the easiest to learn. Not to mention the fact that it kept him away from the front lines and the bloodshed. Blood made him feel squeamish, especially his own blood. So a crossbow it was, and within a few months Belen could shoot it with a level of accuracy that was decidedly average, much like everything else he did. Except baking, he was actually quite good at that, and at this point looking forward to taking over the shop.
Nothing extraordinary happened while Belen was enlisted. At least, nothing extraordinary happened to Belen Traekson. He made pretty good friends with the other members of his unit, deciding to attempt to keep in touch with them after his time was up. Belen got better with his crossbow, though not by much. He was impatient for his two years to end, so that he might finally return home.
Finally it was over. Belen was released from duty. He said his goodbyes to the people he had met, and started on his way home, choosing to travel alone so that he might gather his thoughts before seeing his family again. That was, in retrospect, a terrible decision. Or at least, one that filled Belen with deep regret.
There was a strange hole near the side of the road. It seemed almost like a well, but a very poorly done one, with rough edges and no convenient ring of stones to keep people from falling in. It was deep, but how deep was impossible to tell. Belen was curious though, so he thought that he might drop a rock down, at see how long it took to hit the bottom. He found a good-sized rock and stood at the edge of the hole to drop it in. As he was about to release it, a sudden gust of wind hit him from behind, unbalancing him. Seeing as it was only a gust of wind, it would not have been difficult for Belen to regain to his balance. But he was holding a rather heavy rock, one that was just heavy enough to drag him over the edge of the pit.
He fell. He didn’t know how long it took for him to hit the bottom, but he managed to, eventually. It hurt, but not as much as it should have. There was a pool at the bottom, providing a much softer landing than the expected solid ground. The hole had dumped Belen into a decent-sized cavern, most of which was occupied by the subterranean lake he was now treading water in. He paddled his way to the edge and scrambled out. It took only a cursory glance to realize that the bottom of the tunnel that had dropped him here was too high up to climb to. Belen tried climbing anyways. It didn’t work. Next he tried yelling for help. That didn’t work either, and now his voice was hoarse. So he decided to set up camp in that cavern. There was fresh water on hand, and he could try getting out again in the morning.
Belen had heard of these caverns before. Once, when he was a child, his mother had told hima story about a brave little boy who got lost in a series of caverns called the Depths. The story was completely made up, but the caverns were very real. And a grown man was very unlikely to survive a trip into them, much less a mere boy. Belen thought himself dead for sure if he couldn’t get out.
He had no better luck summoning help the next morning. There was only one course of action to take from here: follow the tunnel leading out of this cavern. So that was what Belen did. But it didn’t take him back to the surface. It took him deeper. So did the tunnels he followed the next day. And the day after that. And the week after that. And the month after that.
Through a series of miracles, Belen managed to survive. He ate mushrooms, but only ones he saw the strange cow like creatures of the Depths eating. He also tried eating the creatures themselves, on occasion, but they proved difficult to stomach. Water was in plentiful supply, and he soon learned how to find it quickly and efficiently. He hid from monsters, or managed to take them down through a combination of massive amounts of luck and increasing, but still only slightly above average, crossbow skills. The one thing he could not do, was find a way out.
Over time, Belen’s hair and beard grew longer, and he adapted more and more to the harsh underground environment, but he also got more and more frustrated. There had to be a way out, he just couldn’t find it. It took a year and a half of living in the Depths before he had even the slightest hint came his way.
There was something following him. Something big. He quickened his stride. His eyes, while better at seeing in low levels of light than most humans, were still not designed for the inky blackness of the Depths, so he couldn’t see the creature behind him. But in all likelihood, it could see him, or smell him, or something. Lots of creatures down here didn’t even have eyes, they relied completely on other senses. If he panicked, it would just outrun him. He had to be clever about this.
The passage branched up ahead, and there was a dim glow coming from one direction. Belen headed towards it. Many dwellers of the Depths didn’t like light, and the big beast might just move on. And if it came to blows, at least Belen would be able to see clearly. He stepped around a bend in the passage to encounter a mushroom grove, some of the fungi were glowing with a greenish light. There was a strange calm here, in this cavern, but Belen was ignoring that feeling at the moment. The cavern was a dead end. There were no other passages, not even any places to hide. Worse, the creature’s snuffling was now audible, only a short distance down the tunnel Belen had come from. He began to panic.
Belen drew and loaded his crossbow, stepping to the far side of the cavern and preparing to fight the beast. It stepped out of the tunnel, preparing to fight Belen. It was a strange creature, like many creatures of the Depths. It had a head like a hawk, but a body like a turtle. It stood on only two legs, and in place of arms it had long, hook like, claws. It would probably tear Belen in half with one blow.
He fired his crossbow, hitting it square in the stomach. The creature blinked in surprise, but then let out a roar, charging forwards. It lashed out with one giant hook. Belen scrambled out of the way, avoiding the blunt of the attack, but the hit knocked the crossbow from Belen’s hands, sending it flying one way and Belen flying the other. He hit the ground hard, frantically grasping for anything he could use to hold the creature off. His hands closed on a stick. It would have to do. Belen thrust it forward in front of him, hoping beyond hope that the creature might be afraid of wood.
Fire erupted around the creature. It began to flail about, with what looked like a bird made of flames swirling around it. Belen blinked in shock. The creature howled in pain, to absorbed to notice Belen’s momentary defenselessness. Not one to let this opportunity go to waste, the former surface-dweller hightailed it out of there.
He ran until his legs refused to carry him any further, then he collapsed, panting, on the cool floor of the underground tunnel. He looked critically at the thing he had grabbed. It was a normal enough piece of wood, covered in strange designs that looked similar to surface creatures Belen remembered hearing about as a child. Bears, deer, wolves, and the like. He asked the stick what it was.
He didn’t expect a response. It spoke inside of his head, explaining that it was a spirit, a guardian of nature. It had been trapped inside the totem Belen now held by a wizard nearly a century ago. It had sat in that grove, waiting for someone to come along who might take it back to the surface. Belen had been that person.
It told him that he was to take it to the surface with him. Then he would set out to find a way to release the spirit. Along the way, Belen would become a hero, wielding the primal might of the spirit in the wood to protect nature. The spirit told him that it was his destiny.
Belen said that he didn’t want to be a hero. He wanted to be a baker. There was silence after that, but then the spirit told Belen that it knew exactly how to get out of the Depths from their current location, and that he had no choice in the matter of his destiny anyways. They started towards the surface.
It took a full two months to make it back to the surface. The spirit, Pine, it said its name was, enhanced Belen’s vision and navigation skills, cutting down on travel time drastically. When they finally returned, it was another two day’s walk to Cargane. Nobody recognized him. He made his way to the bakery where his family had once lived, only to find that it was no longer there. When he asked around, it came to light that his family had moved east, following a promise of land where they could take up farming.
There was nothing to be done about that. He didn’t even know how far east their new farm might be. The only other people in town that Belen had any particular relationship with were his old comrades from his time in the militia. The only practical thing to do was seek them out.
Belen looks much older than one would expect for his relatively young age. Most of this is due to the long beard he has grown by going two years without shaving. His skin is pale, his eyes are lightly colored, and his hair is blond. He is of a roughly average height and weight, although he walks with a slight stoop from spending so long underground, contributing to the illusion that he has lived many years. He is not particularly well muscled, preferring primal magic and his crossbow to melee combat.
Belen is normally very calm and reserved. He would rather watch events unfold from outside and only chime in when necessary than be the center of attention. He dislikes combat and would rather attempt to find another way to work things out, but when fighting becomes necessary, he’s perfectly willing to participate. Or rather, turn the control of most of his body over to Pine and ride out the fight. Due to the spirit’s influence, Belen’s fighting style is aggressive, especially when his companions are in danger, and even more so when a piece of nature is at stake. He usually won’t use his powers if it involves defiling natural beauty, partly because it doesn’t appeal to him, and partly because the spirit in his head won’t let him.
====== Created Using Wizards of the Coast D&D Character Builder ====== Samuel Tong-Mei Level 1 Longtooth Shifter Barbarian|Warden Hybrid Warden: Hybrid Warden Will Hybrid Talent: Warden's Armored Might Guardian Might: Wildblood Background: Saw Too Much(+2 Arcana) Theme: Unseelie Agent
FINAL ABILITY SCORES Str 18, Con 12, Dex 12, Int 10, Wis 18, Cha 8.
STARTING ABILITY SCORES Str 16, Con 12, Dex 12, Int 10, Wis 16, Cha 8.
Within the Silverlands, to the South, there is a fiefdom of sorts called Dalong. The people of Dalong have a certain visible degree of cultural difference with the rest of the Silverlands, as they came from Outside and settled in. Many generations have passed since then, however, and the people of Dalong are more Silverlander than not, despite their differing names, clothing styles, and the persistence of a few odd holidays and superstitions. Dalong is humbly ruled by the Daxian family, and has been for many generations.
Samuel Tong-Mei was born and raised in Caragane, the third son of a distant off-shoot from one of the Vassal families that served the Daxian. He led a largely normal childhood and early adulthood, always joining eagerly in communal activities, from drinking toasts to his time in the militia, to prove his place among his hometown. Sam was not terribly good at any sort of martial pursuit. He wasn't strong, or quick, or tough. He was clever, and he tried hard, but he never made more than a mediocre militiaman. His service was concluded at the end of his two years, as no one thought he'd make career militiaman, unless he was promoted to Officer, and his Dalong blood made that unlikely.
Samuel left Caragane about a year ago. Rumors flew that he was shamed for his relative failure in the militia, but the truth is different. The Daxian, and the Tong(his father's family) recalled anyone even somewhat of the blood to Dalong. Bandits had grown more and more daring in the area, and something unnatural seemed to be afoot [I want these details to imply that the same fate befalling the Silverlands as a whole now hit Dalong first, but don't know what best to put]. Samuel, and the rest of his Vassal clan, held Dalong hard against ruthless bandits, but it seemed to always be a losing battle. They had resigned themselves to deaths in vain when Sam's distant cousin, a bookish lad of but fifteen, found a possible way out.
The way was not easy, nor casually undertaken. Samuel, along with three cousins and one Daxian scion, undertook a dangerous ritual to gain more power. They summoned a representative of the Dark Congress, a huge union of Dark Spirits, and swore a pact to gain the power needed to drive off the threat to their ancestral lands. Each man was asked to give one body part and one emotion. Tien Tong-Mons, the cousin that found the book, paid dearest. Samuel considered his deal easy. He was asked to give up his left eye and his sadness. He did so willingly.
Samuel gave his eye and his sadness to the Dark Congress. Where his left eye was, there is now a sphere of solid, inky blackness. Samuel can see from it as though it were a real eye, but the Dark Congress can see through it as well, and knowing this, Samuel soon took to covering it with an eyepatch. His sadness took longer to notice, but has been jarring in its own way. Samuel had assumed they would take his memories of sadness, but instead, they took the emotion itself. Samuel can no longer feel sad, no matter what the occasion is. He can feel somber, but where once sadness sat, now he feels nothing.
With the newfound powers of Sam and his kin, the battle against the bandits was won. Dalong took heavy losses, but survived. With the need for him now over, Samuel has come home, excited and afraid of what the future might hold. Unlike when he left, Samuel has become the ideal militiaman, but this is not his fate...
Samuel has always been a friendly, optimistic person, and this has not changed with the times. He tries to make the best of anything, and tends to be fiercely protective of those he counts as friends and countrymen. He is willing to put his all on the line for others. Growing up as a bit of an 'outsider" among the Silverlanders has left Samuel eager for acceptance. He often tries hard at whatever he does in the hopes of recognition.
The pact has changed him, somewhat. He believes fiercely that his dark powers are just a tool, and that it is how this tool is used that defines its morality. More than ever, Sam is eager to help his countrymen. He can no longer feel sadness for lost comrades, but tries to venerate them instead, to feel something. As a result, he is slow to judge the means, and focuses on the ends instead.
Samuel is a man of average height, at best. His skin is a shade darker than most, and his hair is dark, signs of his heritage. Overall, he is unremarkable, physically. His frame is slight. However, his muscles remain well-toned, though they don't stand out. His pact has made it impossible for him to really get out of shape. His most notable aspects are his hair, which is long, and worn in a ponytail, his eyepatch, and his bronzen skin. Samuel wears a goatee, which he trims every other day to ensure its neatness. (I don't know if you've ever worn a beard for any length of time, but trimming every other day is quite attentive, even somewhat obsessive. A good beard really needs trimming once a week at most)
He dresses sharply, taking care to maintain the quality and cleanliness of his clothes and armor, though they are not of a particularly expensive make. He favors light browns and blues.
Role-wise Sam will be partway between a Defender and Striker. Probably like an off-tank Striker. Good for a fifth man.
- Race: Longtooth Shifter -> Human. Racial: Sam can draw upon the darkness when in need to recieve a rush of vitality, resotring HP and granting additional damage.
- Class: Barbarian|Warden Hybrid -> Warrior with a dark pact. Samuel's pact with the Dark Congress provides him with strength and prowess beyond what he once held.
- Theme: Unseelie Agent -> Dark Congress Agent. Samuel always has a cold iron sword at hand, it seems to appear when he tries to reach for a weapon.
- Form of Winter's Herald -> Samuel can, from his pact, summon a set of of bone armor. This armor is bound to his own skin and has a fearsome visage, complete with a horned helm that appears as a skull. However, Sam is loath to call it unless the circumstances are very dire, because it makes him feel the evil of his pact, and makes what he has done plain to see. However, sometimes he may have to call it, because the armor grants him supernatural durability.
Tamierian had been left at Lost Angel's Refuge one night as a baby and had never known his parents. Lost Angel's Refuge was an orphanage by the sea, not far from the docks in a town called Escur. As the years went by, he grew up being a mischevious little brat. Spending most of his time walking up and down the piers and stealing what he saw fit. He seemed to always be causing some sort of trouble in town, as well as at the orphanage. Tamierian had grown accustom to staring out to sea and wondering what laid beyond the mist. The day he turned 8, he decided he was going to runaway to sea. He had carefully planned to jump aboard the next ship that made birth and never look back, destined to become a hardy traveler. The next day he walked down to the docks and carefully hid out of sight until one of the biggest ships he had ever seen came in. Night fell and he snuck aboard, not paying attention to anything. He found himself a nice dark place and laid himself to rest. When he awoke the ship was already at sea. The ship he had stowed away in was none other than The Sultry Maiden, a pirate ship headed by Handsome Jack.
Being a boy of 8 and not a very good sneak, he was soon found and brought to the captain. Handsome Jack took pity upon the boy and as he had some morals, never any women or children to be hurt, he put Tamierian to work with the most menial tasks that his crew neglected to do. The life Tamierian dreamt of was not anything like this. He had hoped to visit town after town, not be chained to the lower decks and made to scrub the floors. This ship was worse than the orphanage. Months went by and Tamierian identified more and more with his 'captors', he had gotten to watch as they struck it rich and did as they pleased. Perhaps this wasn't as bad as he thought. Some of the crew had taken a liking to him and began to teach him the ways of the blade. Eventually he was free to roam the ship and because he was pulling his own weight Handsome Jack began to notice him more. The captain soon gave him his own steel, a rapier with a golden hilt that they had recently looted, and began to give the boy lessons.
At the age of 10 Tamierian had gotten the hang of wielding a blade and, while still a novice, was allowed to go ashore and help the crew during some of the pillaging and looting. During one such event, Tamierian had become separated from the pirates he was helping. He had become more distracted by the items he was stealing, than the combat around him. He had failed to notice that the house he was in had become surrounded by townsguard which had chased off the pirate crew. Before long The Sultry Maiden was back at sea without Tamierian. Tamierian on the other hand had managed to get captured and placed in irons. He began to dread the worst, death. That's what happens to pirates after all. On his way to the barracks to be imprissoned, an elder mage saw the boy and took pity.
Meris Spellbinder, an elder mage from the Order of the Blue Flame, was the person who took pity on this 10 year old boy. It was a meeting of chance, as the elder mage had only been in town passing by on his way to Caragane. The Order of the Blue Flame is the most distinguished and well known group of powerful mages. Only few who show exceptional power with magic are ever allowed in. Meris saw something in Tamierian, perhaps the fact that Meris was getting older and had never had time for a child of his own tipped the scales, and pleaded with the guard for his life. Meris made a deal with the guard in which he would be fully responsible for this rapscallion and any actions he made there forth.
Tamierian felt indebted to this kind wizard, and did not run. Maybe it was the fact that he felt he owed him something, or the fact that he had heard tales about the Order of the Blue Flame that kept him around. Tamierian stuck around and never left Meris' sight. Hoping that he could earn his trust and one day learn the ways of the mage. Meris traveled freely, as was Tamierian's dream, and would on occassion stop by local towns and cities to help by using the magic he wielded. He taught Tamierian small parlor tricks, but nothing that would ever get out of hand. Tamierian begged and pleaded that he show him more advanced magic, but Meris refused, stating that the power of magic is too great. Tamierian stuck around anyhow, and grew close to Meris. He looked up at him with great respect, and almost like a father figure. He did, after all, spare his life from the chopping block.
One late afternoon as they traveled through the woods, they had come under siege by bandits, Tamierian drew his rapier to protect Meris, but Meris told him to put it away. The bandits mocked and threatened to kill both of them, it was only until one of them raised a hand to Tamierian that he unleashed the true power and the reason he was sanctioned by the Order of the Blue Flame. What Tameirian saw that day will forever live in his memory. Meris told Tamierian that if he was serious about the study of magic and could become responsible enough to control what he had seen, that he would teach him the ways. Tamierian agreed to these terms, and on his 14th birthday, his training commenced.
At 15 Meris and Tamierian had settled down in Caragane, after wandering throughout the whole of Fellenor for years. While Tamierian had not lost his mischevious character, he had also learned great respect and understanding of life. Day in and day out, he was made to study lines of text, and read book after book of ancient studies. He was a fast learner and was able to mix what he was learning from Meris with what he had learned from Handsome Jack. Given up the life of a pirate and the life of doing wrong, Tameirian set his sights on becoming more like Meris. Helping people in the town of Caragane between his studies and joining the militia when he was 18.
After returning from his post in the militia, he returned to Meris seeking guidance and even more knowledge, but Meris was not to be found. He had been called in by the Order of the Blue Flame a year after Tamierian's admitance into the militia. No one had heard from him since. Tamierian set his sights on traveling to find Meris and helping those in need along the way, but the trail grew cold. As the Order of the Blue Flame was not one to make their business public, Tamierian gave up his journey after 3 years and headed back to Caragane, to pick up his studies where he left off, hoping Meris would one day return.
The time spent at sea with the Handsome Jack and his crew really took a toll on Tamierian. He was taught to worship the Traveler, a deity of the dark six. Even though Tamierian never fully gave himself to the dark lord, he still portrays some of those traits from his youth. While smart, and intelligent, Tamierian isn't very wise. He normally doesn't stop to think about the consquences fully before taking action. One such event turned his hair grey and singed off his eyebrows for a week. He likes to play harmless tricks on the unsuspecting but never takes it farther than a laugh. A bit on the mischevious side, he usually means well. He is comfortable around those who enjoy living life as well as helping others. Loyal and faithful, he protects those who he shares camaraderie with. Always looking to make someone smile, he's a very chatty character. Some call him a nuisance, while others call him personable.
Tamierian is now in his 20's with medium length gray hair, a product of learning magic the hard way. A few scratches decorate his face as well as his hands from time served upon the Sultry Maiden. He has a strong chiseled jawline, with vibrant colored lips, of which are hardly ever pressed together for more than a few seconds. He's very chatty and his mischeivous streak can be seen once he gets comfortable around others. His nose is slender, and like any nose, leads up to between his eyes. His eyes are deep blue, like the seas he used to travel. A jovial fellow, his facial expressions are those of excitement, or laughter. Some would say his skin is sun touched or tan from his life with the pirates, but it's probably due to his excessive time outdoors helping folks. His weight is that of an average man, usually around 175 pounds. He stands at an average height as well, 5 foot 9 inches. He portrays a muscular build and carries the rapier that Handsome Jack gave him at all times to remind him that he must never go back to that lifestyle again. A blade with a golden hilt and guard, lightweight and extremely sharp now imbued with magic. He dresses still in the swashbuckler's lavish clothes because he believes they fit nicer than anything else. Normally black and a crimson red color.
Working on a wizard as we speak. I've never played a 4e wizard so I'm ready to give it a shot. Character SheetShow
====== Created Using Wizards of the Coast D&D Character Builder ====== Liramek, Disgraced Spellwarder, level 1 Human, Wizard (Arcanist) Arcane Implement Mastery Option: Staff of Defense Human Power Selection Option: Bonus At-Will Power Student of Ironstone (Endurance class skill) Theme: Wizard's Apprentice
FINAL ABILITY SCORES STR 8, CON 13, DEX 10, INT 20, WIS 13, CHA 10
STARTING ABILITY SCORES STR 8, CON 13, DEX 10, INT 18, WIS 13, CHA 10
Among each regiment of Fellenor's armies there are special persons trained for specific tasks. Scouts, shocktroops, battleclerics, cavalry, generals, warhound and falcon trainers, and the Spellwarders. After years spent in the opal tower located at a strange and misjudged village at just east of Fellenor's capital, each Spellwarder is shipped off to aid the smaller military forces throughout Fellenor. Every Spellwarder is equipped with the capability to deal with a wide array of situations, be it scouting or blasting the enemy with mighty spells. The Opal Five, the arcane advisors and descendants of the founders of the Opal Tower, require that all apprentices fulfill their military duties after basic wizard training, a duty that most students find boring and monotonous.
Liramek was thrilled to hear that he would be able to return home to Caragane and equally thrilled to be put through militaristic training. He'd always wanted to fight in battles and he had a chance to prove his worth.
During his time in the militia, Liramek devoted almost all of his time to physical betterment, applying the focus he learned during his days as a wizard's apprentice to the physical labor required as a militia. He only ever picked up a weapon once, however. The disastrous results of his display of untrained flourishes left him short a pinky and a newly cleaned axe blade bloodied. Liramek was instead allowed to forgo weapon training and be the arcane support he was more comfortable being.
Liramek quickly befriended those in the militia who also had unique talents and forged strong bonds with those few. In the few skirmishes with bandits from the Winterkissed and during guard patrol, Liramek showed his worth to his fellow enlistees.
A year and a half into his duties as a citizen of Caragane, time Liramek enjoyed very much, would cpme
Alexander Dros of Winter's Grasp. Winter's Grasp is far too the south it grew as a frountier town for the winterkissed moutain as a place to resupply. the first line of defence against bandit attacks and as such boasts one of the largest militia persence of any town within the land.
Alexander Dros is from the Dros family over 200 years ago Alexander's ancestor Castor Dros came to this remote area to further his research into what he called 'The Flames of Wrath' a hellish black flame that would move to consume all in its path leaving nothing but ashes. Castor eventually realised his dream of controling These black flames but it left a horrible mark upon his family. Every child since has had Dark red eyes almost the colour of blood, as well as a marking of a black flame over there hearts.
Alexander Dros since his earliest memorys has been involved with music, his grandfather Gaius Dros, a former captain of the Town's militia taught him how to play a flute. he left for Fellenor at 16 to join a college of bards and artists, now at 19 he feels that his muse has run out and now needs to new exepriences in order to further his song writing and that now would be a good time to join the local militia for his 2 years required service.
Alexander has lead a charmed life his is has made him easy going and kind for the most part however if he makes a decision he can be stubborn in seeing it through to the end. and while not the bravest of people Alexander has been told since childhood to rise up and help those too weak to defend themselves
when it comes to life Alexander is a believer in finishing what you started, this can be reflected in his music where he will spent hours obsessing over every detail of his songs. Alexander also believe's that everyone has a innate talent and will always help his friends and those he deems interesting in finding their talents. While not overly religious Alexander still often prays to the winter deity and makes offering in the hope that Winter's Grasp won't suffer in the winter months.
Alexander is a tall man at 6'0 foot yet with a small frame his pale skin gives him a look of illness and many comment he needs more sunlight, he has black hair that frames his face. His eyes are the most noticeable feature due to there blood red colour, where his heart is located, a black flame tattoo is visible it glows faintly and heat comes off it when danger is near