Name: Rethan Andrano
Race: Dunmer
Age: 29.
Gender: Male.
Date of Birth: 16th Evening Star.
Birthsign: The Thief.
Occupation: Agent.

Focus: Stealth.
Main Skills: Short Blade, Speechcraft, Light Armor, Illusion, Sneak.

Class Description: Agents are operatives skilled in deception and avoidance, but trained in self-defense and the use of deadly force. Self-reliant and independent, agents devote themselves to personal goals, or to various patrons or causes.

Appearence: Rethan has a strong facial structure, features such as his nose and forehead are bold, and masculine. Though his face is slim, giving him a youthful appearence. His nose is slightly crooked, having had it broken more than a few times. With dark eyes brows resting above his deep red eyes, his stubby beard and smirked lips give him a devlish look, something one could see as shady, or perhaps even handsome.

Armor: Dark leather is what his armor mainly consists of. Rethan wears a dark cuirass, which slightly resembles a short sleeved shirt. The fabric is light, and does not serve much protection, however it is easy to move in. The cuirass reveals his arms, and Rethan preffers to cover his hands and wrists with a pair of black leather gauntles. His pants are made from a rough blac fabric, which are tucked into a pair of thick leather boots.

Hair: Rethan keeps his scruffy dark brown hair in a right pony tail, often reffered to as a rogue knot. Though sometimes kept loose, Rethan's hair reaches straight above his shoulders, and keeps his fringe cut to his jawline, which he parts at the middle.

Eye Color: Deep red.
Height: 6'0"
Build: Rethan's body is athletically fit, his muscles being well toned and modest. Years of training have left signs on the man, and his body is quite agile.
Scars: Some minor scars here and there, the most noticeble being a scar on his cheek, right below his left eye. He also has a 3 large scars on his right arm.
Skin: Dark as ash, as is custom for Dunmer.

Weapon: Rethan keeps two weapons at hands, however rarely uses both, as it causes his movements to become clumsy. Kept at his side is a simple Silver dagger, the weapon itself is nothing special, and often serves more as a pocket knife than an actual weapon. His real weapon however, is an elven sword, resting against his back. The blade is an heirloom, and is always sharpened. The handle of the blade is detailed with magnificant carvings, and the blade shimmers against light.

Personality: Confident and sharp, Rethan is a man who speaks his mind, and who does not fear to state his opinion, be that a random oberservation or a sarcastic remark. Rethan is not a man who acts rash, instead keeping himself calm and collected, even in times of panic. A man of charm and intelligence, Rethan can be cunning, even ruthless when his duty calls for it, something he has grown to become quite good at. Despite his harsh, perhaps even cold exterior, Rethan can prove to be a usefull ally, and a loyal friend when his trust has been earned.

Biography: Rethan's background is nothing to brag about. Born and raised in Vvardenfell, Rethan led a simple life with his family in Balmora. His family were not wealthy, however did just fine, his father making a living by working as a tradesman in the busy city. Despite recieving a fine education, Rethan was restless, and when reaching 17 years of age, left his home town to seek something different.

As years went by, Rethan eventually fell into shady buisness. Having commited tasks few would admit to doing, Rethan finally put his skills to more "honest" work, and became an apprentice of a harsh, somewhat eccentric Imperial who trained him in the arts of stealth. The young Dunmer proceeded to become an agent, and was by now a well know name within inner circles. Hired by nobles and the wealthy, Rethan performed tasks with acuracy and sublety.

Spending his time moving from place to place, Rethan will work for anyone who either pays the most, or sparks an interest in him. For the time being, the Dunmer has entered an alliance with the young lady Ev?lith, daughter of Queen Elysana herself. He serves as her guard, and personal spy.

"The hell was that?" The tale-telling guard looked behind himself worriedly. No other noise came from that direction, but then whatever - whoever? - was there could've been standing perfectly still, waiting for them to dismiss the noise as nothing... Damn this stupid fog! The Breton muttered, motioning his comrade in arms to keep aiming at the top of the tower, while he himself crawled slowly towards the source of the noise, crossbow aimed into the mist before him. Several other nearby guards, attracted by the shouts, were already running up the stairs, swords at the ready in case something was wrong.

Ludovic

"JOG ON, YOU STINKING BASTARDS!" Ludovic yelled out to the passing nomads, who were currently unable to do anything but throw insults at the fort, lacking the devices to throw rocks at it. Engaging in a shouting match with some rogue nomads wasn't very dignified, but at least it was better than doing nothing, as the young Breton told himself, waving to the nomads with his hat as an added taunt. The nomads could yell at him all they want, though - the longbowmen that were present in the fort had a height advantage to add to their already superior range over the nomads' shortbows. Come on, close the range... You know you want to. He frowned, looking as the horseman swirled around like wind, unwilling to throw themselves at the fort.

Putting his hat back on, Ludovic leaned on the paraqet. Sons of goats... They could very well just jump into the river and save relief forces the trouble... When they decide to show up, that is. 'Oh dear, our Queen's in danger! Whatever shall we do.' 'I don't know, perhaps we should sit here and try to figure something out while they're in the process of dying.' Is this the impressive Wayrest military machine? No wonder we lost to the Nords... Probably we were deploying about as fast as our reinforcements are assembling.

Grumbling under his nose, the young captain reasumed walking in circles, looking below at the walls from time to time. He didn't care much for most the inhabbitants of this castle; of course, Elysana was his queen, so his concern was mostly for her fate, but as for the others... Most of them he barely knew, being from a circle the queen's current retinue rarely interacted with - namely the simple soldiery. And Ludovic didn't intend to go looking for connections, either.

Wayrest

Let's see now...chapter one...dull. Chapter two...not of any significance. Chapter three however....yes, I must rush to my chamber at once to study this further.

Shutting the heavy book, Ev?lith smiled to herself, quite pleased with what she had found. Usually it was nearly impossible to get enough priavacy to find certain types of books from the library, especially with guards on her heels. The thought of the guards made Ev?lith laugh quietly, surely Parthia was wandering around looking for her. It had been so easy to slip away too.

Just as she was about to turn around to go to her bedroom, Ev?lith caught the glimpse of a robed woman strolling casually down the hall. The aurburn hair was a dead give away, and the young lady smirked as she tucked the book under her arm once more. The long golden embroided sleeve covered most of the book, hiding the title. Facing the woman, Ev?lith softened her expression as she greeted the figure,

"Why, good day Parthia. What's with the face, you look as if you've not slept for the past 3 days."

Though she did not change her expression, Ev?lith couldn't help but curse inside her. She was still not sure whether or not Parthia could be fully trusted, however nothing so far had led her to suspect anything. However, one must be cautious when dealing with matters such as this. Tucking a lock of hair behind her ears, Ev?lith spoke once more,

"I do apologize for sneaking off like that, however I simply had to go to the library! And you seemed so...thoughtful. I did not wish to disturb you. Besides, I am perfectly safe, as you can see."

Anticlere Wall

The two elven sisters heard the soldiers come up the steps and quickly they pressed their palms against the stone floor of the tower. With their terramancing ability they conjured forth several Orc statues, the scariest possible with their weapons raised. They were far enough from the stairs that they couldn't be seen in detail at first glance especially through the fog, but close enough to startle anyone coming up in a hurry expecting trouble. They could have continued on with the game of keep away but they did have a mission to accomplish. Instead of leaping from the tower, they each propped themself up on the edge of the wall sitting there with their hands on her legs and their posture perfect.

Fort Banesworth

Kaasha smirked at the yelling man walking across the edge of the wall toward him. Her tail making a slow curvey figure 8 in its movement as her long legs carried her bit by bit closer toward the Breton. Her hands were clasped behind her back, arms straight and elbows raised up a bit. "Do you think they even understand you?" She leaned slightly forward as she looked at the Breton from above. A couple of more steps and she could be standing on his shoulders.

The Stag

Name: Beric Cassivel, First of His Name, King of Camlorn and Baron of Phrygias
Age: 51
Race: Breton, of Camlorn descent
Gender: Male

Description: Beric Cassivel is an unmistakable man. Tall and broad like a Nord, he stands out in a crowd of Bretons with his eccentric, rowdy disposition and friendly, booming voice. Two burning, vivid sapphire eyes watch everything with a fearsome intensity, like two beacons above the thick black bush that covers his cheeks and lower face. His thick black beard grows effortlessly beside shoulder-length locks of beaten ebony. Where stringy muscle would have once dominated his figure, there is fat in some places. A time of watchful peace has left his body in a less than desirable condition, however his natural determination leaves no doubt to how Camlorn will fare in the coming times.

Arms: Beric typically wields a three-quarter warhammer in battle with a solid Orsimeri steel head. He has a smaller flail at his belt and a dagger too.
Apparel: In battle, Beric sits ahorse in plate and maille with black enamel and gold tracery. In heavier engagements, he dons a black, horned greathelm. As King in Camlorn, he has access to the finest clothing in the realm.

Companions

Osric Cassivel: Where Beric inherited the Cassivel features of their father's side, his brother Osric inherited their mother's features. A slighter Breton, still tall but thinner and less formidable, Osric also has dark brown hair flecked with silver though he is but 49 summers old. Osric rules a small tower house in the foothills of Wrothgaria, where Beric's other kin rule full castles. A slighter man with murky, blue-green eyes, rumour has it that Osric refused knighthood with contempt for all knights who break their chivalric vows. He is a ruthless man, known for his carelessness and great skill with the sword. Despite the rumours, Osric is happy and was often a leader of men when Beric was away.

Conwys Cassivel: One of Beric's two twin sons, Conwys is the spitting image of his brother. Heavy-set and broad, this 26 year-old is taller than most Bretons and shares the family traits of thick, pure black hair and piercing steel-blue eyes. Like his brother, Conwys rules a castle in the region called the kingsland. He takes to the field in a knee-length hauberk of black ringmail and a Norman shield across his back. His weapon of choice is a silver-edged steel bastard sword, while he carries a knife and a dirk at his belt.

Blaise Cassivel: Blaise, like Conwys, is a broad, stout character with a strong sword arm and a mind for tactics. Unlike Conwys' almost bowl-cut hair in simple style, Blaise wears his hair in a ponytail, quite long like his father. Blaise's castle in the kingsland lies close to the kingswood near Phrygias, where only the king's selected hunters may seek prey with the king's permission. Blaise uses a short, heavy axe with an ebony head in battle with deadly effect. His armour is a coat of mail and cuir bouilli besides.

The Armies of Camlorn

Camlorn Men-at-Arms [4400]
Clad in leather and maille, the Men-at-Arms of Camlorn are clad in long, knee-length mail hauberks, plumed steel caps, brigantine cuirasses, steel plates on the limbs and tall studded boots. Each man is armed with a steel poleaxe, a steel shortsword and a roundshield is strapped to his back. Assigned to every 100 men is a captain, a flagbearer and a company courier.

Camlorn Knights [5000]
The better part of the chivalry of the West ride with King Beric. These rich noblemen sit astride powerful destriers in long coats of mail and plate. Their horses are clad in expensive barding. They carry a broad variety of weapons: axes, swords, maces, flails or warhammers. Most men bear a lance and shield into battle as well. These men are the strongest force on the battlefield.

Order of the Antler [50]
Only the finest knights of the land are members of the Order of the Antler. These men are the best fighters in Camlorn and all wear a distinct unifom that sets them apart on the field. Black ringmail, a forest green cloak, an antlered helmet and green-dyed leathers indicate that these knights belong to the Order. Each man is equipped with a Norman shield and a bastard sword, as well as a spear.

Camlorn Arbalestiers [3600]
Armed with heavy arbalests and pavise shields, the Camlorn Arbalestiers are equipped with steel handaxes and coats of maille for m?l?e combat. Their coifs are topped with plumed steel caps like the Men-at-Arms, tall green plumes of horse-hair. Each man bears thirty bolts in a hip quiver, tipped with steel bodkin heads.

Camlorn Lancers [1200]
Bretic light cavalry armed with solid, thick-headed spears and roundshields, the Camlorn Lancers are a general light cavalry force that is flexible on the battlefield. Their kit consists of a padded gambeson, a mail shirt and a green-plumed steel cap. Many do not have saddles or equipment in the best condition, but these men are no less good cavalry. All of the men bring a sidearm to the field however, varying wildly from a castle-forged sword to a hobnail'd cudgel.

Yeomen [750]
Drawn up from the class of freemen in Camlorn, the king's Yeomen are irregular hunters and archers. Most use finely made longbows or short hunting bows, with 25 steel arrows supplied by the king's fletchers. There is little difference between shooting a running stag and a running man, and these Yeomen are good at both. Yeomen carry axes, flails or pitchforks as a secondary weapon.

The Army of Phrygias

Order of the Antler [10]
Only the finest knights of the land are members of the Order of the Antler. These men are the best fighters in Camlorn and all wear a distinct unifom that sets them apart on the field. Black ringmail, a forest green cloak, an antlered helmet and green-dyed leathers indicate that these knights belong to the Order. Each man is equipped with a Norman shield and a bastard sword, as well as a spear.

Knights of Phrygias [490]
The Knights of Phrygias are lighter-clad than the northern knights of Camlorn, but are still a force to be reckoned with. The rolling hills and forests of Phrygias have forced the Knights of Phrygias to adjust. They fight with bows and spears while on horseback, in black ringmail, and have longswords and roundshields.

Men-at-Arms of Phrygias [2500]
With yellow-dyed plumes in their steel caps and yellow designs on their roundshields, the Phrygian infantry are easily distinguished from their counterparts in Camlorn. These men fight with steel-tipped spears and steel shortswords or axes, with roundshields besides. They are clad in coats of maille and yellow surcoats. Assigned to every 100 men is a captain, a flagbearer and a company courier.

Phrygian Rangers [3000]
There is a strong tradition of archery in the forests of Phrygias, and this is reflected in the irregular armies of the barony. Armed with longswords and composite bows, the Phrygian Rangers are a combination of local hunters and trained bowmen from the town. Their talents vary wildly from man to man, but they are all good bowmen without a doubt.

Main Character Sheet

Name: Francois Gautier, Lord of Aleine, Grandmaster of the Knights of Aleine.

Race: Breton

Age: Thirty six Summers, Born 3E300, Third of Morning Star

Birthsign: The Warrior

Physical Description: At five foot ten inches, Francois had never had much of an imposing figure. Metabolism and other factors such as military training and a fairly active life, have blessed him with fitness and athleticism, although he is not overly toned. With dark brown hair, deep blue eyes, a typical Breton skin tone, and an unmarked face, Francois is a decent looking man; neither handsome nor repulsive, just above average. Aside from a few minor scars mainly from minor injuries on his legs sustained as a child, he has no distinguishing marks to speak of, likely due to being raised in a pampered environment. As a representative of his family, and his people, he is always clean shaven if possible and wears his medium length hair in a tidy fashion typical of nobility.

History: To understand Lord Francois Gautier, one must first understand how he came to power. His Father, Maurice Gautier, was a very wealthy landowner, his possessions including many acres of land, a large town, several villages, and a sizeable number of troops. Likewise, his uncle, Bernard Gautier, owned several businesses, and also, a sizeable piece of land and his own band of troops. But what does this matter to the story of Lord Francois Gautier? As another Era passed, so did Maurice and Bernard, a smith's stone ceiling collapsing on top of them, crushing and killing them instantly. Francois inherited these combined holdings, and soon, the title of Lord. For a time Lord was merely a symbolic title, a term of respect more so than any indication of any real power, but Francois aimed to change that. Immediately, messengers were sent out, troops were readied and militia levied. Over the span of a few years and under cover of the entire continent being distracted with the affairs to the south of High Rock, through various purchases and military conquests, Francois acquired many Rural lands near Gauvadon, the nobility and wealth of these lands combining into the town of Aleine.

Since forming his little empire, Lord Francois has gained power over Gauvadon as well, marrying the ruler's daughter, Anne Arnoux. Anne's father, Edmond Arnoux, had become too old to rule, and passed his power onto his only remaining kin. Since their marriage, all of Gauvadon's soldiers have been absorbed into a single army, commanded by Lord Francois. With Francois' rural holdings, and the town of Aleine itself, the two wield considerable power. Their combined support may be just enough to tip the balance in the coming conflict.

Weapons: Oakeshott XIII with a blue grip and silver pommel and crossguard.

Armor/Apparel: Francois wears a light chainmail and padded armor, typically covered by a large grey fur cloak. Only wears a helmet in battle situations.

Misc. Items: Wears several rings made of various precious metals, some inlaid with gems.

Companions:

Lady Anne Arnoux- Anne is the Lady of Gauvadon, receiving the title as her father grew too old to rule. Brown eyes, long brown hair, about 5'6 and wears various exquisite gowns and the like, often with a fine overcoat. Can be very stuck up, treating those of low status badly, especially in the Poor district. Many of these people hate her for her actions, and would not doubt bring harm to her if possible.

Knight Gaston Moreau- A high ranking knight of the Knights of Aleine, he assists Francois in the commanding of the Knights of Aleine and elite bodyguards. Also serves as a bodyguard and stays by his Lord's side at all times. Garbed in the typical white mantle bearing the http://www.stjoan-center.com/time_line/crest.jpg overtop a full suit of mail. Carries a large blue kiteshield, also bearing the crest, constructed from steel, and wields a sword similar to Francois'.

Louis Gautier ? Francois' cousin, Louis carries the same noble presence as his cousin but is far less capable in all aspects of life. Follows as part of Francois' entourage, and is equipped with the standard Knights armor, and an Oakeshott XIII.

Knight Jean Fournier- bodyguard to Francois, and leader of what is left of the army raised during Francois' rise to power. Owns several of the farms near Aleine as a reward for his service during the conquest of lands at the turn of the century.


Captain Secundus Laetonius Metilius- Commander of the Imperial forces stationed in Aleine, as garrisons in the towns and holding a small fortified camp near the Town of Aleine. Legion issued armor, Legion issued broadsword which hangs across his back and Silver shortsword sheathed at his left side.


Mount(s):

Albert- A fine Breton horse given to him by his father, suited to travelling and being ridden for extended amounts of time.

Laeca- Magnificent purebred horse purchased from an Imperial merchant. Excellent for parades and shows of the like.


Faction Sheet

Lord Francois Gautier

Faction Name: Knights of Aleine, Aleine Town Guard.

Rank: Lord, Knight Commander.

Knights of Aleine (3200): The Order of the Knights of Aleine was originally formed by Francois Gautier's Grandfather, Alexandre Gautier, as a private army and elite guard for the town and surrounding area. Beginning with approximately One hundred men in the beginning, it has since grown to many thousands in various posts throughout the Lordship, swelling quite a bit since the combination of Aleine's and Gauvadon's lands. Sworn protectors to Aleine and the Gautier family, they are highly skilled in the arts of war and combat, and the best fighters that particular area has to offer. Mainly of Breton heritage, one must be of noble bloodline to join, with few exceptions. Often wearing heavy mail armor and surcoat bearing their http://www.stjoan-center.com/time_line/crest.jpg, each knight has several horses available at any given time, wear varying helmets based on personal preference, and mostly wield Oakeshott XIII swords with varying side-arms. The consistently used weapon for every knight is a steel lance. For every ten knights, there is a standard bearer, carrying the standard of Aleine.

Aristocratic Soldiers (1700): Soldiers outfitted and trained by local landowners as a gesture of good faith to their Lord. Equipped with whatever their employers decided to outfit them with. Mostly, they wear high quality mail with various surcoats, often using Great Helms and wielding weapons of their choice.


General Louis Gautier

Faction Name: Lord's Army

Rank: General

Lord's Footsoldiers (7000): Volunteer soldiers from all across the Lordship of Aleine, most of these men are career soldiers, having joined as soon as they came of age and serving until they are past fighting age. Once these men retire, they will likely train the next generation of soldiers, or become militia, smiths, and village guards and the like. All wearing full Hauberks covered by a checkered white and blue surcoat bearing the Aleine coat of arms at the center gripping domed steel shields, and wearing sallet helmets. Footsoldiers carry a steel spear in their free hand, and wield military issue medium length steel swords, and often some form of self supplied weapon. If needed, these men wield polearms to combat against cavalry. About one standard bearer for every ten men, with a mixture of Aleine and Gauvadon standards.


Lord's Longbowmen (4000): Most of these men have trained from very young ages to become Longbowmen, or were hunters before taking up the occupation. Either way, they are highly skilled archers, more than capable of using their bows efficiently. Positioned far behind the battle lines, they wear only bracers, and surcoats.

Lord's Cavalry (1000): Mainly used as light cavalry, they are sometimes used to reinforce the Knight of Aleine or aid in large cavalry charges. Wearing light chainmail, http://www.medieval-weaponry.co.uk/acatalog/AW5550Close-norman-saxon-helmet.jpg , carrying steel round shields, and wielding a spear in their free hand, with one to three extra spears in their shield hand and steel shortswords at their sides.


Knight Jean Fournier

Faction Name: Militia of Aleine

Rank: General

Volunteer Archers (700): Mostly hunters, these men are of all ages and hail from all across the lordship. Garbed in whichever armors they could acquire, usually mismatched leather, fur, and padded armors. Quivers of fifteen to thirty arrows across their backs and carrying various wooden bows. Self supplied weapons just in case they must fight in close quarters.

Trained Militia (1000): Organised militia, trained by knights in peacetime and sent small sums each month, only called for service in times of unrest or war. Wearing light hauberks and padded armor, carrying various wooden, leather, and iron shields, and wielding various Iron blades.


Captain Secundus Laetonius Metilius

Faction Name: Imperial Legion

Rank: Captain

Legion Camp (outside the town)

Legionnaire Infantry (900): Imperial Legionnaires, considered the most effective and versatile fighting force in Tamriel, and the strong-arm of the Empire. On foot, these men wear the heavy armor of the Imperial Legion, and wield Legion issued weapons. Although highly capable with swords, true to their versatility, they are also able to fire ranged weapons.

Legionnaire Cavalry (130): The Legion does not have large amounts of cavalry, but the small number of mounted soldiers it has are no let down to its Footsoldiers. Identical to the infantry in equipment, save for the use of steel tipped lances.

Colovian Peasant Soldiers (300): Colovian peasants, volunteering for the chance to live abroad and experience a soldier's life. Those who could not provide for themselves received iron blades, and various iron mails, padding, and leather. Although only given remedial training, only those previously skilled with the sword dared to sign up, and skills can be learned and improved simply from one observing those around them.

Local Soldiers (170): Locals, seeking entrance to the Legion, receiving instruction in the camp. Their numbers are few, for most locals are highly loyal to Lord Francois, and these soldiers have become outcasts. Garbed in bits and pieces of Imperial armor, mixed with leather and padded armors, and wielding self supplied swords that are often made from iron.

Legion Barracks (within the town)

Legion Guards (100): No different than the fighting infantry, they are identical to them in every way, simply stationed within the walls. Residing in the town since its founding.


Name: http://s642.photobucket.com/albums/uu146/W00tz/?action=view¤t=Ghalib2.jpg

Race: Redguard, born in Rihad

Age: 47

Birthsign: The Warrior

Physical Description: At 5'9, Ghalib once was a fine looking boy, but years in combat and harsh conditions has altered his appearance. He now has several wrinkles across his face, and a large scar running down from the edge of his right eye. A rough beard peers out from under a curved, crooked nose, and his eyes seem to always have a certain squint to them, though his vision is fine. Even if he were to wear a dress, and parade through the markets of Sentinel in entirely pink, you would still know immediately that he was a serious man.

History: Ghalib was born into slavery, the son of two recently acquired slaves, his mother giving birth to him before she was to be sold. A local woman raised him until he was old enough to be sold, and once he came of age, he was sent directly to the market and purchased by a man in Mournoth. In Mournoth he was raised and trained to be a Mamluk warrior, being trained along many other slaves purchased for the same purpose. As he matured, he showed great promise, and rose to be falsely called Amir. Although his men did partake in conflicts surround the Siege of Sentinel, his role was minor, although it led to his re-enslavement, along with a group of his men. They were brought to Wayrest by some noble or another, along with other groups of Mamluks coming in from other places. His group wound up intermingled with some others, and some of his men were sent to other places, but in the end about one hundred- not including him- were carted off to be sold in Evermore, or any buyers along the way.

Passing through Gauvadon, nobles in the area were allowed to observe them in case they wished to buy them. Among the small crowd that came to view the slaves, one man in particular stood out, a knight walking beside him. Upon seeing the Mamluks, he seemingly decided to stop at nothing to purchase them. After a small bidding war Ghalib Kaplan and the one hundred Mamluks went into service once again in the fashion they had been trained for- slave warriors. Ghalib later learned the man's name, Lord Francois Gautier. He treated the warriors kindly, and slowly became friends with Ghalib, allowing him more and more freedom, eventually gaining decent quarters in his castle.

Weapons: Samshir's hanging at each side, along with a Kukri hanging from his torso.

Armor/Apparel: Mail armor, although in a different fashion than what the Breton's wear, a round iron helm coming to a point at the top, with a white cloth Gutra coming out and covering his neck.

Misc. Items: Sterling silver bracelet, the only piece of finery he has. A small gift from one of his former masters.

Companions:

Khadir al-Mihrani- A superstitious soothsayer, often thought to be insane, but Ghalib listens to him with great faith. Wears basic, loose fitting clothing, and is a rather gaunt and ragged man, standing at around 5'7. Sometimes mistaken for a witch, and more often, a poor man, although if he wished he could have much wealth. Carries a small Kard at his waist, often behind his belt, a Jambiya across his torso, and a concealed Bagh Nakh. Still has assassin connections, along with connections in "low" places.



Ghalib al-Suhim


Faction Name: Mamluks

Rank: General

Mamluk Warriors: (100) Mounted warriors from Hammerfell, these men are fierce, and a foreign sight in many parts of High Rock. However, these are not nomadic peoples, rather, highly trained warriors often employed by several members of the nobility in their home province. Since this particular band comes from different regiments, several different vibrant colors flash through their ranks. Clad in mail, colourful surcoats, and turbans, they never use shields of any kind. Often duel wielding curved blades, the Mamluks also carry composite bows across their backs and several spears.

Name: Gosic

Race: Breton

Age: Appears to be in his fifties

Appearance: Wearing the trademark gray robes of the Psijicc order, a bent old man dwells within. Gosic's eyes show the wisdom of a man who had seen things he had rather not, and hint at how ancient he really is. Steel blue eyes, a cruel nose and small mouth, with receding gray hair reaching the back of his collar. A bushy handlebar mustache curling just off his face, connects into a pointed white chin beard.

Equipment: Robes of the Psijicc order, and a travel worn pair of black leather boots.

Misc items: A gift for the Lord Manfred Flyte, a conjured flame trapped within a cut ruby.

Biography: In the time of the invasion of Akavir, a young apprentice to a craftsman, and son had lost his father over sea. His mother Elana with little income had taken to making trinkets for the women in town, and giving to men the virtue she had been born with. A magician seeing the delicate fingers and raw potential of the young Gosic while traveling through the village had spoke with the boys mother, offering to teach him in the arcane arts.

The desperate widow could not have been more elated with the sagacious magician's interest. Months later, the two had married.

A minor mage's step son and apprentice, the young Gosic, then called Ethrian quickly fell in love with the magical mysteries of the world. With notable ability in weaving arcane webs, almost as if he could see them before his hands the magician had petitioned an old friend within a certain order.

With the promise of being tutored by the wisest Gosic accepted.

A decade later, having passed the trials, studied secrets unknown except for in far reaches of the Nirn, Gosic had begun his journey in helping balance the chaos that seemed to be pervading the world. Good had to be restored.

Having served rulers across Tamriel for a century, the now bent old man retreated to the order of his island. Dipping his hooked nose into books and tomes of ancient knowledge. It was not until the Aldmeri dominion's seperation from the Cyrodil empire, and the recent war in Hammerfell that the order had decided to leave its self imposed exile of the world.

Gosic and a dozen other mystics had recently departed off of a crystalline ship to High Rock, what many in the order believed to be the next chess board in the saga of the Empire's end.

Anticlere was a bustling metropolis with an impressive amount of trade. Its position was so advantageous that the Lord of the state could live off the bay's trade alone, and most likely field a small army with it as well.

A lone man walked briskly through the crowd, his gray robes with writing in ancient aldmeris over the front of the tabard within his cloak. His hands rested within the opposite sleeves before him, and his hood rested over his head. The bent old Psijicc was an ancient master of the Old-Way. Volunteering himself to provide consul and assist in maintaining High Rock in its currently increasing tension.

Traveling through the maze of a heavily populated Anticlere, the Psijicc had made his way to the residence of his Lord Flyte.

With a humble bow to the Lord's steward (or guard), he produced a letter written from the head of the Psijicc order himself.

"I request an audience with the Lord Manfred Flyte of Anticlere. I have been sent from Artaeum." with a light smile he held the letter out before him.

Woods somewhere in Wayrest
"They went to look for water or food, and scout out the area." Marsha responded to Jas' question, not looking up from her map, but instead rubbing her chin with her fingers, which caused the golden rings on her wrist to jingle.

"I thought that was my job!" Jassan snapped indignantly.

"Our job." Ree'Ja hissed from where he sat at the base of a tree. "Little elf hush, or he will make us found."

"I thought we were trying to accomplish that." Jassan whirled on the catman. "After all, what better way to stop being lost than to be found?"

"Unless you are found by bandits and vampires, which is rather prolific around here I've heard." Marsha added, looking up and slapping her hand down on the map. "By the gods this fog makes it impossible." She sighed, only to look sharply towards the Khajiit when Ree'Ja perked up a bit. "What's up?"

"Ree'Ja smells something." He replied, getting to his feet and crouching before sniffing the air again, his claws out and ready.

"Finally some action from all this frigging boredom." Jassan muttered, jumping onto the trunk of a nearby tree and kicking off an up, into the foliage above. There was a soft snick of metal slipping from a scabbard. Ree'Ja's eyes wandered the area, curious.

"You sure it isn't Hukral and Wikrun?" Marsha inquired, rising to her feet as well and picking up her naginata simultaneously.

"This one is sure." Ree'Ja hissed back.

"Of course milord." the aged wizard said with reverence. He handed the said letter in question.

"I am Gosic of Artaeum, an ambassador to the Psijicc order sent to offer counsel on behalf of the order." he held the letter out, written and enchanted by Lore Master Celarus for security, the letter could never be altered in anyway. Ink would not be capable of writing on that paper, water would not deform it in anyway, and fire would have no effect. The letter was in all purposes indestructible, unless a Wizard or Sorcerer of raw talent and god given ability, or other magi would be capable of studying the arcane weave the letter contained.

Finding a mage with understanding of the Psijicc's old way, would be the equivalent to looking for fish in a volcano. Only those thoroughly familiar with there understanding of Mysticism would even have a chance at learning exactly what was done to the letter. Even then, you'd have to find a person who knew exactly what to counter, and to provide a primal amount of magicka into the spells he used to unravel.

Such subtle elegance, which could not be discerned by any, but those with a magical eye was a Psijjj trademark.