Herein lies a selection of the Special Task Force for the Reclamation of the Overlook, initiated by the Diggers' College of Vanor:
"Howler" Hróðvitnisson is a Varangian barbarian who came in with a crew from the distant north. He arrived with his companions on a longship just two weeks ago, having braved many months at sea and on wild rivers, following the treacherous passage across the northern reaches and down the treacherous rivers of Groznaya to reach the city. They came in the night down the river, docked, and emerged as a shield wall raiding party of cultists of the Gullet, the Wolf who Will Swallow the Sun. That very first night, they raided the ancient tomb of Sol Invictus himself, to despoil the old bastard's tomb in the name of the Gullet and show him what is to come.
There they all died horrible, gruesome, unspeakable deaths.
"Howler" was the only member of the raiding party to survive. Now he is left without shield-brothers or companions, and he is not charismatic enough to gather a crew around himself. He sleeps in the longship that brought him here, and he hires himself out as a warrior, bodyguard, soldier, and raider.
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Ivo Hermanni, an Arcanum Delver, has as his only goals to pick clean the bones of the civilization that subjugated his ancestors and recover any Rothari artifacts that may have found there way into those tombs. And maybe to prove that he's as much of a badass as his six brothers (most of whom are gladiators)...
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Vasilisa, Slezan Warlock, a former urchin with a predilection for black things, dead things, vile things. When you cross her path, bad things happen...to you.
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Once a monk devoted to Sol Invictus,
Justinian Quintus Justero's curiosity, dour nature, and penchant for asking questions eventually drove him from the monastery. By then, he had taught himself the basics of magic from the monastery's considerable libraries. He now seeks to find out more about the Witch Kings and their ilk; not from a desire for power, but to see what drove them to evil. Despite his grim and pessimistic demeanor, Justinian is driven by a thirst for knowledge and desire to help his city reclaim its ruined districts. He is a proficient healer and sage in addition to his wizardry.
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Bulb is a Kalingoi scavenger that has been shunned by her race. Her entire tribe was wiped out by a plague leaving her the sole survivor, weakened though she was. Other Kalingoi feared she would bring the disease to their camps and treated her as a pariah. She's rather used to being on her own and not fitting in, although she's made a few friends here and there. None the less, she's learned to look after herself first, and THEN think about others. But a girl(ish)'s got to live... and thus why she's chillin' with this bunch.
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Velis Olegovich Ustinov is a boy of probably 13 or 14. Such a charming and innocent lad! And so studious. You would be, too, if you'd been taken in by Old Mad Yaroslav. Say, whatever happened to Old Man Yaroslav, anyway? How did this boy travel so far to this place of ancient tombs and magicks with no companion but a magpie, and why has he been going in there alone?
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Zaba Bradaslav is a Selzan Lackey that works as a porter for dungeoneering expeditions. He has a a no nonsense personality, do what has to be done, or do it because it needs doing. He hates dead weight, because he will be the one that ends up carrying it.
From the journal of Zaba Bradaslav:
Holy Dungeoneers Expedition 001
A proper burial? A proper burial?! Feh. Who's going to carry that meat soup and bones back up? Me. Who is going to dig the grave? Me. Well I've got news for these religious delver's. Those services cost extra. It wasn't my idea to try to jump that puddle of pudding. Nope. My idea was finding an alternate route. But this guy, wearing mail armor, rubbing a whet stone on sword every morning decides, "Nah, I can make it." But he didn't. Now, it turns out, the triune demands a proper burial. I can see the satisfaction on their faces. their shares just got a little bit bigger, and they want me, poor Zaba, to haul the dead fucking weight to the top in order to assuage their guilt. Well, it's going to cost extra. I'm taking his sword, and I'm getting his share. I'm fucking done making 3 gold a day to put up with these triune worshiping bastards.
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Korbin Vacarius is a native Vanoran Venturer. His main goal is the improvement of the city and its markets, reclamation. His general approach will be to use money to cover for his shortcomings, and to invest his fortunes so they bring even greater returns. As for dungeon delving, I suppose he sees the relics hidden away as lost opportunities. What good are the of the glories and riches lying among the ruin and the beasts, when they should be in civilized hands, circulating on the market as part of the bustle of life, their craft and aesthetics enjoyed by those who truly can appreciate them?
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Ardo Valerianus is an Expert who has studied Natural Philosophy and Alchemy, along with Naturalism. He’s not really cut out to be the brightest candle in any guild's candelabrum, but has gotten by thus far on the Sterling Principle: Always Follow the Directions Carefully. He is native to the city, although one side of his family looks to be Rothari (and then there’s his first name).
Alas, most collegia prefer alchemists who already have a full lab, along with full training. Ardo thought he’d take over from old Brontus eventually, but then Brontus and the lab disappeared in a distinctly impressive cubic explosion of wailing mauve vapors, leaving nothing but an eight-foot-tall stone sheep statue with rather unpleasant lichen on it.
Ardo had nothing to do with that. He wasn’t even in the area at the time. You can all rest easy on that count.
“Who forgot to wash the alembic? It’s got tiny talking demons again."
“Goals? Goals? Oh, that’s a good one. Right, let me just line my plans out in front of you, since there’s probably no chance at all that you might be some variety of brigand or mountebank, let alone one of that sort of people who delight in stepping on other people’s aspirations just to hear that despairing squeak noise as they’re demolished. Wait, no, on second thought, I’ll be just a smidge less trusting. Call it a character flaw.
So. Alchemists use what you might call stuff. Stuff we need expensive stuff to do things with and to. Glassware. Ingredients. Leaves, roots, seeds, calyxes, tubers and rhizomes; integumentia, sundry organs from uncanny beasts (or at least, insufficiently canny ones), scales, horns, liquors, ichors, and oozes; effluvia, perfluvia, humours and ylem. Are you going to give me all of those free of charge? No? Then stop asking me why I’m wearing a backpack and heading into a hillside. I have a Potion of Nasal Compression I can happily jam into your face if that’ll make you happier.”
***
Image Credits:
Because these were submitted images by the players to illustrate their PCs, I've not made any effort to hunt down where they got these. Obviously, we didn't make these (except for Image #2, which was drawn by the player) and all rights belong to the artists and/or business entities that paid for the images. If anyone has the lowdown for sourcing these, please let me know, and I'll update the post.
Updated Image Credits:
Image #2: "Ivo Hermanni" by Bill Spytma (
link).
Image #5: "Magia" by Andre Bdois (
link).
In the deep, distant past, Stygians were nomads and herders traveling a grass sea in a land far across the world ocean. But then that ended. They gave up their kumis, their goats, and their tent cities; built ships and learned the stars; and became nomads of the sea. That was then.
