New Champions (13.12.2018)
Few would dare argue that the Captain of King Tayba’s personal Guard, Richtoff, known as the “Bold”, earned his title. Born to the family of a stone broke minor noble, Richtoff’s prospects in life were not much better than those of a commoner. But Lumaya herself must have smiled upon him. Rather than being sent as a page to a noble of similar worth (or rather lack thereof) or to his own father, Richtoff’s fate took a different turn. The Grand Tourney in Kaerok Castle gathered nobles from all across the kingdom, no matter how inconsequential they may be. And where most young nobles were content to just watch and dream of the day they could take part themselves, Richtoff attempted to sneak past the guards onto the archery range.
The King, amused by such a brazen act, stopped his men from dragging Richtoff away and allowed the boy to participate. Many laughed and openly mocked the upstart, yet as soon as Richtoff’s first arrow struck true the murmurs and jeering ceased. He could not match the true masters at that age, of course, but had shown himself to be talented enough to earn his place at Kaerok’s court. There he was given the tools and teachers to hone his skill.
Upon reaching adulthood Richtoff was already known as one of the best sharpshooters the Kingdom had to offer. He is said to have slain trolls and undead with but a single shot from hundreds of paces away, and none could match the speed with which he reloaded his crossbow to batter the enemy with a hail of quarrels. Now an anointed Knight, Richtoff has recently risen through the ranks to lead the King’s own Guard. And Kaerok’s enemies can be certain, never again shall the King be threatened while his loyal servants keep vigil.
Something of an aberration among trollkind, Ignatius is what people call a “civilized savage”. Captured and sold as a slave in his childhood, he found himself in servitude of the High Elves, used for menial tasks and hard labour. But his sharp wit and aptitude for more precise work, when coupled with his natural strength, ensured that Ignatius was apprenticed to one of Aravian blacksmiths.
As he came of age and learned the secrets of steel, so too did Ignatius’ fame grow; thanks both to his extraordinary talent, and his unusual origins. A slave no longer, he became something of a local celebrity. And yet, the call of blood is not easy to silence.
Though tales of his people were rarely flattering among the human and elf travelers, Ignatius could not help but greedily consume every bit and rumour that he could find. It was not until his fourth decade that he had finally chosen to set out beyond the only home he ever remembered, and find his people that were lost to him.
As it turned out, finding other trolls was far easier than being accepted by them. Seen as an outsider and an elf slave, Ignatius had to fight for his very survival. But he has proven to be as mighty and as fearsome as any of his kin. Weapons and armour forged by his own hand were much more impressive than the crude tools most of his adversaries wielded, and helped Ignatius rise above those who would see him dead.
Now a tolerated - and even at time respected craftsman of one of the largest troll tribes in Aravia, Ignatius forges his own destiny - and that of his people. After all, if through the sheer power of will he can control his innate savagery and only release it in battle, then, perhaps, others will learn to do so too. And who knows, a day may yet come when trolls are seen as something more than wild and loathsome beasts.
The High Elves pride themselves on their advanced and intricate judicial system, its tenets, on paper, call upon the King or Queen to ensure fair and unbiased justice for all their subjects. Of course, the reality is much more difficult than that. Nobles and others in power often operate on their own set of laws, evading punishment where someone more humble would pay the full price of their transgression. Still, nobles are not completely immune.
Few sights cause as much concern and fear at Queen Eva’s court as the Royal Adjudicator Elenaril does. A highborn herself, she is called to settle disputes between her peers or stand judgement over them for their crimes. Intrigue and assassinations are a particularly common offense, and thus Elenaril herself has been targetted by foolish would-be murderers more than once.
She is as skilled with a bow as she is with courtly manners and her knowledge of Aravian Law. More than once an attempt on her life led to Elenaril serving as both judge and executioner, sometimes by an arrow to the heart, and sometimes by more subtle means. It is no accident that she is well-versed in the most potent poisons known to Elven alchemists and always carries a vast supply of such on her person.
Sister Hope does much to honour her name, both on the battlefield and by her kind deeds. A simple miller’s daughter, she was orphaned at a young age by a brutal orc raid. It was only a timely intervention by the Sacred Order outrider patrol that saved the girl from sharing the fate of her family, although starving to death was not a much better prospect. Fortunately for Hope, her plea did not go unheard and she was adopted into one of the Order’s abbeys, there to be educated and trained. Crafstmen and caterers of all sorts are always in demand, and it is to everyone’s benefit if orphans and the destitute that the Order cares for repay their debt by a life-long dedication.
But it was not a life of peace that Hope sought. Her experiences have molded the young woman and drove her to excel in the ways of war. She swore a mighty oath to Lumaya, pleading the Goddess to give her strength, so that by Hope’s hand atrocities such as what has been inflicted upon her family can be prevented.
Whether it is Lumaya’s grace indeed or the strength of Hope’s own conviction, but she has forged her path as a champion of the innocent ever since. She does not flinch in delivering ruthless justice to the unholy and the lawless, but it is her kindness and selfless devotion to her allies that make Hope a boon for any band of Champions. Her faith alone can serve as a powerful shield to those at her side, yet her wrath is terrible to behold as well. Her blade can do much more than simply break armour and rend flesh. By the power of faith, it dispells protective magic that many-an-enemy uses, exposing them to Hope’s fellow Champions.
Jotuns are a race of strong and proud warriors that hail from the frozen North of Teleria. Larger and stronger than a typical human or elf, they are easily distinguishable by the horns that crown their heads. Though they have a long-standing tradition of martial prowess, the once mighty Jotuns have been in decline for centuries. Most tribes have been forced to leave their homeland and band together with other exiles, adding their strength to Barbarian groups or mercenary bands.
Though they all share an affinity with powers from beyond the material realm, some Jotuns can manifest these powers and add them to their already impressive arsenal. This Champion, in particular, has been marked by primordial fire - or so he believes - which marks him by the bright red colour of his hair, and the ability to summon flames that engulf the blade of his sword.
Few of the Ogryn or Troll tribes living in the wilds have the means or knowledge required to tame steel. Thus, many of their warriors are armed with primitive clubs, stone axes, weapons looted on the battlefields or, sometimes, purchased from the rare merchants that are willing to trade with such dangerous customers.
Galkut, on the other hand, takes a more creative approach. His arms and armour are crafted from the bones of slain enemies, serving both to offer protection and to inspire fear in the hearts of his opponents. And the best part? Each victory brings a chance to enhance Galkut’s armour, assuming there is enough “material” left to work with.
Chevaliers hail from the Northern coast of Kaerok, the name itself derived from a local title given to Knights. Mostly minor nobles, these warriors form the elite corps of the King’s army. Encased in heavy armour, armed with a shield and a variety of weapons, they can batter their way through all but the toughest opposition.
The Chevalier’s allies can be certain, that on his honour he shall protect them and strike back against those who defy the will of the Arbiter. Such is his dedication, that not even enchanted armour can save the enemy from his axe. And his knowledge of tactics allows allies to follow him into the fray in a defensive formation, less exposed to enemy strikes.
It is common practice for necromancers to raid old crypts, tombs, and sites of bloody battles in search of new minions to bind to their will. Most end up as shambling skeletons barely able to swing a sword. Sometimes, however, a capable warrior is raised in undeath. Though their soul is long gone, the body may yet hold vestiges of their waning might. Such creatures can look deceptively fragile, but underestimating them can be a deadly mistake.
Either by the will of the necromancer that awakened them, or by their own natural affinity, these undead can manifest eerie magical abilities. This particular champion, though his origins are unknown, has been able to summon mystical fire upon his master’s foes, sap away their lifeforce, and inflict wounds that defy the skills of experienced healers. But all is not lost, for such a powerful creature has to be bound to his Shard. And if one were to take possession of it, the skeletal Wretch can yet be turned against the dark powers that interrupted his eternal sleep.
Nicknamed ‘Ox’ for his bullheaded nature, this Barbarian embodies many of the traits associated with his people. Strong, fearless, rather superstitious and stubborn. He is, nonetheless, a capable warrior that will fight with far more flexibility than his brutish looks would make one believe.
Though fond of overwhelming his foes with relentless attacks, Ox knows when and where to strike to keep the enemy firmly on the defensive and unable to strike back with their full arsenal of deadly skills.
Ifrits are a particular demonbreed that stands above the common foot soldiers of Siroth’s hellish hierarchy. Often compared to wasps for their somewhat insectoid appearance and frequent reliance on sting-like spears, Ifrits are usually found at the head of smaller Demonspawn cohorts.
Dark magic swirls around them like an unseen mist, allowing their unholy strikes to sap away the strength of their victims or even hex those that have the skill and courage to attack them.
