Post by Beast Master on Nov 20, 2011 23:47:29 GMT -6
**********
GENERAL-
Name:[/b][/color] Jericho Almados
Rank:
Title:
Profession: Sellsword / Mercenary / Freelancer / Bounty Hunter / Womanizer / Drunk
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
PHYSICAL-[/b]
Race: Winterborn (Human)
Age: 39
Sex: Male
Height: 6'8"
Weight: 350lbs
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Brown
Voice Description: Jericho's voice is thick, deep, bassy and boistrous. He often speeks loudly with no sense of "inside voice", a trait that is both consumate with his confidence / arrogance, and why many people sometimes find him annoying.
Clothing:
Build / Complexion: Jericho's fiendish blood has made him bigger than even the average Winterborn, bringing him to a staggering height. His skin is tanned from his travels and thick cords of muscle ripple below his skin. His limbs, like his body, are thick, making him much bigger than the average human. As any male Winterborn, his body is often hairier than most humans, though he keeps the hair on his head shaved down short, like his face.
Physical Description: The child of a human mother and a Azrean father, Jericho displays the outwardly appearance of the average man…but in a much larger package. His legs and arms are thick trunks of muscles that connect to his barrel chested body. He’s a hairy fellow with thick, wiry hair all over him. He keeps the hair on his head cropped short, from his scalp to his beard. His dress is simple: green or brown garb in the coolest of Solabren’s regions, or only his armor in the warmest. His armor is light and encompasses the greater portion of his body. Its made of thin bronze but has been enchanted to be more resilient than usual, with the inner Hydra Hide layer below that. Leather boots wrap up his shins to his knee’s and are covered in metallic grieves that end in armored knee pads which are good for defense or striking. A heavy metal belt hangs around his waist, providing protections for his lower abdominals, groin, and upper thighs as it holds two armor plates in place. His scabbard and sword are fastened to the plate on his left leg by the Ultima Harness.
Jericho’s chest piece is a thin armor that is connected at the top of the shoulders and sides by leather and buckles. His hands are covered by leather gloves that go halfway up his forearms, and those in turn are covered in hardy gauntlets. The belt and gauntlets may be his strongest armored assets, as the wrist protection is meant to help stave off offensive attacks from his foes while the belt is meant to defend his most vulnerable of assets. He owns a helmet, but only wears it when necessary; he despises the numb spot it creates on the back of his head from wearing it too long, although, having recently padded the interior with hydra skin, now admits it is a good tool in battle.
A bundle of furs is rolled up on his stead, and he can use these for protection in the coldest environments. More often than not a rolled fur shirt fits under his armor plating for such an event.
Jericho’s face is weathered from travel, a fact that makes him appear some bit older than he actually is. Crows feet are starting to nag at the corner of his eyes, but even still his face is the portrait of endurance and cunning. His arms and legs are toned with muscle built up during the hardships of his life, purveying a sense of strength and skill to those around him. His arms are marked with just a few scars from mishaps during his journey through life, but all but one of these is covered now by his gauntlets; it’s a crescent shaped scar that runs the outer portion of his upper right arm, just below his shoulder.
Of his scars, a few stand out more than others, but the majority of those are hidden within his armor. Most notable are the circular wounds from arrows he recieved both in Tradantum and the Setani Desert. They serve as a reminder of how close he has come to dying on a number of occaisions.
MENTAL-
Likes:
Dislikes:
Strengths / Skills:
Weaknesses:
Fears:
Personality Description: A very free spirit drives Jericho’s life forward. There are few things he actively pursues as much as he does the thrill of battle and his own pride and glory. Amongst those few things are women and booze, not necessarily in that order, or even nearly as important as the former. It is his never ending quest for pride that makes his freedom so important to him, and this is why he finds himself more of a loner or outcast from general society. He tends to shy away from the imprisoning confines of cities for the most part, preferring the open country and rural hide-aways to the hustle and bustle of cities. It is this same freedom that makes him despise the leadership of any kingdom with mild paranoia. Perfect paranoia is perfect awareness, someone once told him.
”To live by the sword is to die by the sword.” The phrase he adopted from a mentor years ago rings true even today. Jericho would rather lose his life on the battlefield in pursuit of those ideals he finds important than to succumb to the command of almost any leader. In fact, he regards himself as a better leader than anyone in most aspects, save for the commerce and political shit. Leaders, according to Jericho, should be strong and smart, not fat and smart, and should be ready to fight for the people they lead instead of send the people they lead to fight for them.
His ideals on religion, love, and other “squishy shit feelings” are callous at best. He feels more in touch with his lust, the primal urge that ultimately drives all things in his mind. Love to him is a foreign concept for child bearers and boy lovers. Religion is simply another chain in which people allow themselves to be shackled down with. He finds himself drawn more to the traditional pantheon of gods and goddesses, more because of its romantic historical connection than its actual practicality. His affiliation with religion, which most would think none existent at first, is actually to Peliro the Warrior God…but it is not a loving or meaningful affiliation, to say the least. Jericho actually loathes Peliro for the lifestyle he lives…for reasons he himself cannot explain. It’s the greatest double standard of his life.
His next major double standard is the fact that unlike most warriors of his prowess he has a certain dislike for the notion of death…glorious or not. He likes his life and his ability to roam about and violate almost anything in a skirt that he pleases, and for this he keeps his religious life as a casual reminder of who he is and what his fate will ultimately be.
Most people take one look at the gargantuan warrior and instantly categorize him as an oafish barbarian, and Jericho always smiles when he is able to prove them wrong. His skills and feats as a warrior are not all that he prides himself on. Jericho likes learning about the world he lives in and truly appreciates the finer points in life, not striving to have anymore or any less than those around him. He may hold a double standard about his status as a warrior, but there is no such thing for his love for nature and simplicity. He lives every day to the fullest, doing that which pleases him the most with few regrets.
Still, it is no secret that the big man is loud and obnoxious in public, drawing plenty of attention to himself. Couple this with extreme vulgarity and being proud to a fault, it is no wonder why many people cannot stand him or, at the very least, feel intimidated by his presence. His alcoholic tendencies make him a real terror in many of the villages and towns he stops in, and drunk or not, he is quick to fight anyone over almost any trespass.
His greatest goal in life is to be remembered, even after his death, in story and song for as long as time shall last. ”If I must die, then I want the entire world at least to know I was here, kicking ass and living to the fullest and sleeping with everything with a split between its legs that would hold still long enough!”
HISTORICAL-[/b]
Place of Birth: Helm's Break, Sunderbran
Current Residence: Vagabond
Known Family:
Chosen Pantheon: Human Pantheon of Godlings
Preferred Deity: Peliro
Past History: Jericho Almados was born to a mother that was a whore named Andora in the city of Helm's Break. His father was a large man who could only be identified as Almados who hailed from deep within the forest of Eire and was allegedly an Elder amongst the small Azrean tribe that calls the forest home. The tribe itself is a strange group of men, larger than average, and supposedly blessed by Peliro himself. They’re big and strong and resilient, healing easier than most and being born with a natural ability for the fighting arts. It was this blood that Jericho would grow up to love and hate all at the same time.
He was an outcast from his mother at an early age, sleeping under the same roof and eating from the same table as she and his number of siblings but spending the majority of his days roaming the streets of the small community. While his brothers and sisters were hounded by the locals, they had it easy compared to their brother. They were at least the children of other men in the town. Jericho, on the other hand, was a complete bastard, his father having been in town for only a short time when he was conceived. He dealt with a lot of grief from the rest of the local populace, thus beginning his history of violent behavior. Fist fights and scuffles on the street became common place, and seeing as he was growing bigger and stronger than the other children it was only a matter of time before people started getting hurt. He was forced from the town at the age of sixteen when he was seen as more of a menace than a productive member of the society, and has roamed the lands of Solabren ever since.
Jericho began teaching himself the basics of handling a short sword, spear, and shield at an early age. When combined with his previous understanding of hand to hand combat, his style of fighting quickly caught on. He took his pride and confidence from Sunderbran into the world with him, using it to fuel many a conflict. Some of these he lost. Some of these he won. All of them he learned. His skills were as keen as one who had been practicing with such weapons all of their life by the time he was twenty six. That was the age where he stumbled upon his greatest flaw: alcohol. Also known as the Ale of the Gods, Jericho wanted to rename it the Ale of Jericho. It took a proud spot on the third tier of his ladder of pleasures, beat out only by women and warfare ( and of those two, the top tier he could not pick… ).
There would be many adventures and journeys in his life, many battles won and hardships faced. He has traveled as far across the land as he could before meeting the oceans to the east and west, and has even traversed the sea from Zetomar to Aesterholm many times (though he admits to never having crossed The Great Sea himself). He has climbed Targs Teeth on the eastern point of the Tsond Mountains to retrieve Valhron’s Armor and Spear, and trekked across the Setani Desert in search of the finest weapons smith in the land. He once journeyed into the Infernal Heath to retrieve Ankador’s Shield and learned how to make Black Eggs from the skilled, stealthy warrior clan of Orgond. His horse, Vakr, is a massive palomino, four hands higher than the average horse; he was a beast of burden bought as Jericho searched the wilds of Eire for his fathers people, the Azrean tribe. His dread weapon, the Armor Splitting Short Axe, he took from the body of a felled foe at Veram Swamp.
”And those green bastards thought their magic held some sort of candle to the might of Jericho Almados!”
The journey that had taken him into the swamp started with the battle against the Undead who had overtaken the city of Iliua, where he quelled the army of the dead and brought The Boy to a violent and terrible end.
It was this battle the marked the turning point in Jericho’s life. No longer was he a warrior with no cause or country. He had done what was right…because it was right. Just a few nights later he had met his friend, Lorryn, whom he had lusted for at first and then taken a fond liking to later.
It was Lorryn who had caused him to cut off the hand of a man during a petty brawl in a bar along the Serpan Mountains.
His violence made him who he is today. His quickness to kill the necromancer child at Iliua and the single deft move that had taken the man's hand in the bar known as The Bear's Balls became a testament and a haunting reminder to him of what he was; what he truly was. A warrior who had survived alone most of his life, independent of any one thing to push him forward save for his own strength, and skill, and cunning. It wasn't long after the battle of Veram Swamp that he would part ways with Lorryn and begin a journey that would take him across much of the known world. Twice he was shot with arrows and lived to tell the tale; once during a bounty turned ambush in Grunwald, and again, this time with a poison tipped arrow, while fighting bandits in the Setani Desert. He would father three son's; Kai Almados, his son with Liadan, and two bastards he would never know born of him and Minerva Cedarleaf. It was a funny thing to Jericho; she trained his Mountain Wolf, Fico, to be of the most loyal companions he had ever had, but yet would never allow him to know his children.
Still, even with his hardships and likewise hard learned lessons, there was one thing he had to admit...
Old habits die hard.
Site History:
[/li][li] 9th of Ories, AoS 4010- Encountered Flowering Death and its minions during a trip through the Forest of Eire with Lorryn, Sancraid, and Alakaia in Falling Leaves, where they were also stalked by the Proliaos known as Kothro.
[/li][li] 21st of Aroila, AoS 4010- Met Haeldor Arknep in the Eastern Marches of Zetomar in I Have Nothing, where he helped the recently widowed mother of one out of a storm and into shelter.[/li][/ul]
**********[/b]
GENERAL-
Name:[/b][/color] Jericho Almados
Rank:
Title:
Profession: Sellsword / Mercenary / Freelancer / Bounty Hunter / Womanizer / Drunk
Alignment: Lawful Neutral
PHYSICAL-[/b]
Race: Winterborn (Human)
- The harsh cold of the southern continent has made the Winterborn a strong people (+5 XP to Vitality, +5 XP to Endurance), with a known knack for warfare (+5 XP to ONE Combatant Fortitude Stat). The lack of education and interaction with more educated lands, however, often shows itself outside of Sunderbran (-5 XP to Intelligence, -5 XP to Social).
Age: 39
Sex: Male
Height: 6'8"
Weight: 350lbs
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Brown
Voice Description: Jericho's voice is thick, deep, bassy and boistrous. He often speeks loudly with no sense of "inside voice", a trait that is both consumate with his confidence / arrogance, and why many people sometimes find him annoying.
Clothing:
- Unarmed Attire- A gray or hunter green tunic usually adorns his upper body, held together in the middle by a black belt. Brown trousers cover the lower portion of his body, and his prefered footwear is his hydra skin boots (see Hydra Hide Armor). Often times he wears a regalia around his waist of a green and gold embroidered color in order to hide his short sword.
- Armed Attire- The brown trousers adorn Jericho's lower half, tucked into his hydra skin boots and covered with grieves and thigh plates from the plated portion of his armor. A hydra skin tunic of blue coloration rests below his chest and back plate, while an armored belt wraps his waist. Two bronze style gauntlets adorn his forearms, and his hydra skin Ironclad Gloves protect his hands. In combat, a bronze helmet covers his head, it's leather padded interior providing extra protection against blunt strikes and concussions.
Build / Complexion: Jericho's fiendish blood has made him bigger than even the average Winterborn, bringing him to a staggering height. His skin is tanned from his travels and thick cords of muscle ripple below his skin. His limbs, like his body, are thick, making him much bigger than the average human. As any male Winterborn, his body is often hairier than most humans, though he keeps the hair on his head shaved down short, like his face.
Physical Description: The child of a human mother and a Azrean father, Jericho displays the outwardly appearance of the average man…but in a much larger package. His legs and arms are thick trunks of muscles that connect to his barrel chested body. He’s a hairy fellow with thick, wiry hair all over him. He keeps the hair on his head cropped short, from his scalp to his beard. His dress is simple: green or brown garb in the coolest of Solabren’s regions, or only his armor in the warmest. His armor is light and encompasses the greater portion of his body. Its made of thin bronze but has been enchanted to be more resilient than usual, with the inner Hydra Hide layer below that. Leather boots wrap up his shins to his knee’s and are covered in metallic grieves that end in armored knee pads which are good for defense or striking. A heavy metal belt hangs around his waist, providing protections for his lower abdominals, groin, and upper thighs as it holds two armor plates in place. His scabbard and sword are fastened to the plate on his left leg by the Ultima Harness.
Jericho’s chest piece is a thin armor that is connected at the top of the shoulders and sides by leather and buckles. His hands are covered by leather gloves that go halfway up his forearms, and those in turn are covered in hardy gauntlets. The belt and gauntlets may be his strongest armored assets, as the wrist protection is meant to help stave off offensive attacks from his foes while the belt is meant to defend his most vulnerable of assets. He owns a helmet, but only wears it when necessary; he despises the numb spot it creates on the back of his head from wearing it too long, although, having recently padded the interior with hydra skin, now admits it is a good tool in battle.
A bundle of furs is rolled up on his stead, and he can use these for protection in the coldest environments. More often than not a rolled fur shirt fits under his armor plating for such an event.
Jericho’s face is weathered from travel, a fact that makes him appear some bit older than he actually is. Crows feet are starting to nag at the corner of his eyes, but even still his face is the portrait of endurance and cunning. His arms and legs are toned with muscle built up during the hardships of his life, purveying a sense of strength and skill to those around him. His arms are marked with just a few scars from mishaps during his journey through life, but all but one of these is covered now by his gauntlets; it’s a crescent shaped scar that runs the outer portion of his upper right arm, just below his shoulder.
Of his scars, a few stand out more than others, but the majority of those are hidden within his armor. Most notable are the circular wounds from arrows he recieved both in Tradantum and the Setani Desert. They serve as a reminder of how close he has come to dying on a number of occaisions.
MENTAL-
Likes:
- Females (Of pretty much any race, except Hssondi...)
- Alcohol
- Fighting
- Bragging
- Quests for glory
- Training for battle
- The finest foods
- Traveling
- Learning
- Being amongst nature
- The history and lore of Solabren
- People who are proud and courageous
Dislikes:
- Elves, "lizard folk", trolls, anyone who doesn't at least look human. (Some females are the exception...)
- Those who are weak because they have allowed themselves to be, not because fate has issued them another hand
- Authority of the Kingdoms
- Being mistaken for a buffoon or barbarian because of his dress or lifestyle
- Getting wet, swimming, or water in general (although a hot bath is nice sometimes)
- Magic
- Politicians ("Never give a good politician time to pray.")
- The wicked and vile
- Those who would prey upon the ill fated weak
- Cowardice
- Threats
Strengths / Skills:
- The ability to think and act strategically.
- Cunning and quickness enough to change strategies in the midst of a manuever.
- Knowledge of the use of a great many close range weapons.
- Survivalist knowledge for almost any region of Solabren.
- Learned abilities to navigate by the stars, winds, and other natural aspects of the world.
Weaknesses:
- Haughtiness; easily goaded into battle, sometimes for little or no reason at all.
- Ranged weapons, such as crossbows or bows and arrows; while they present him some difficulty in battle, his greater weakness is in their use.
- Arcane defense; has some difficulty against magic attacks.
- Females...again. "I'm a victim of
circumstancemy pecker." - Politics. He's about as good at negotiating as he is at flying.
- Alcohol and drugs. More the former than the latter, he has an addictive personality that has caused him to act a fool on more than one occaision.
Fears:
- That he may someday be left weak and powerless or grow old.
- Those events he cannot fight, such as the onset of old age or natural occurances to which there is no physical resistance.
- Time
- Change
- That someday there may not be a need for great warriors.
Personality Description: A very free spirit drives Jericho’s life forward. There are few things he actively pursues as much as he does the thrill of battle and his own pride and glory. Amongst those few things are women and booze, not necessarily in that order, or even nearly as important as the former. It is his never ending quest for pride that makes his freedom so important to him, and this is why he finds himself more of a loner or outcast from general society. He tends to shy away from the imprisoning confines of cities for the most part, preferring the open country and rural hide-aways to the hustle and bustle of cities. It is this same freedom that makes him despise the leadership of any kingdom with mild paranoia. Perfect paranoia is perfect awareness, someone once told him.
”To live by the sword is to die by the sword.” The phrase he adopted from a mentor years ago rings true even today. Jericho would rather lose his life on the battlefield in pursuit of those ideals he finds important than to succumb to the command of almost any leader. In fact, he regards himself as a better leader than anyone in most aspects, save for the commerce and political shit. Leaders, according to Jericho, should be strong and smart, not fat and smart, and should be ready to fight for the people they lead instead of send the people they lead to fight for them.
His ideals on religion, love, and other “squishy shit feelings” are callous at best. He feels more in touch with his lust, the primal urge that ultimately drives all things in his mind. Love to him is a foreign concept for child bearers and boy lovers. Religion is simply another chain in which people allow themselves to be shackled down with. He finds himself drawn more to the traditional pantheon of gods and goddesses, more because of its romantic historical connection than its actual practicality. His affiliation with religion, which most would think none existent at first, is actually to Peliro the Warrior God…but it is not a loving or meaningful affiliation, to say the least. Jericho actually loathes Peliro for the lifestyle he lives…for reasons he himself cannot explain. It’s the greatest double standard of his life.
His next major double standard is the fact that unlike most warriors of his prowess he has a certain dislike for the notion of death…glorious or not. He likes his life and his ability to roam about and violate almost anything in a skirt that he pleases, and for this he keeps his religious life as a casual reminder of who he is and what his fate will ultimately be.
Most people take one look at the gargantuan warrior and instantly categorize him as an oafish barbarian, and Jericho always smiles when he is able to prove them wrong. His skills and feats as a warrior are not all that he prides himself on. Jericho likes learning about the world he lives in and truly appreciates the finer points in life, not striving to have anymore or any less than those around him. He may hold a double standard about his status as a warrior, but there is no such thing for his love for nature and simplicity. He lives every day to the fullest, doing that which pleases him the most with few regrets.
Still, it is no secret that the big man is loud and obnoxious in public, drawing plenty of attention to himself. Couple this with extreme vulgarity and being proud to a fault, it is no wonder why many people cannot stand him or, at the very least, feel intimidated by his presence. His alcoholic tendencies make him a real terror in many of the villages and towns he stops in, and drunk or not, he is quick to fight anyone over almost any trespass.
His greatest goal in life is to be remembered, even after his death, in story and song for as long as time shall last. ”If I must die, then I want the entire world at least to know I was here, kicking ass and living to the fullest and sleeping with everything with a split between its legs that would hold still long enough!”
HISTORICAL-[/b]
Place of Birth: Helm's Break, Sunderbran
Current Residence: Vagabond
Known Family:
- Andora (Mother)
- Kai Almados (Son)
- Two sons by Minerva Cedarleaf (Names Unknown)
Chosen Pantheon: Human Pantheon of Godlings
Preferred Deity: Peliro
Past History: Jericho Almados was born to a mother that was a whore named Andora in the city of Helm's Break. His father was a large man who could only be identified as Almados who hailed from deep within the forest of Eire and was allegedly an Elder amongst the small Azrean tribe that calls the forest home. The tribe itself is a strange group of men, larger than average, and supposedly blessed by Peliro himself. They’re big and strong and resilient, healing easier than most and being born with a natural ability for the fighting arts. It was this blood that Jericho would grow up to love and hate all at the same time.
He was an outcast from his mother at an early age, sleeping under the same roof and eating from the same table as she and his number of siblings but spending the majority of his days roaming the streets of the small community. While his brothers and sisters were hounded by the locals, they had it easy compared to their brother. They were at least the children of other men in the town. Jericho, on the other hand, was a complete bastard, his father having been in town for only a short time when he was conceived. He dealt with a lot of grief from the rest of the local populace, thus beginning his history of violent behavior. Fist fights and scuffles on the street became common place, and seeing as he was growing bigger and stronger than the other children it was only a matter of time before people started getting hurt. He was forced from the town at the age of sixteen when he was seen as more of a menace than a productive member of the society, and has roamed the lands of Solabren ever since.
Jericho began teaching himself the basics of handling a short sword, spear, and shield at an early age. When combined with his previous understanding of hand to hand combat, his style of fighting quickly caught on. He took his pride and confidence from Sunderbran into the world with him, using it to fuel many a conflict. Some of these he lost. Some of these he won. All of them he learned. His skills were as keen as one who had been practicing with such weapons all of their life by the time he was twenty six. That was the age where he stumbled upon his greatest flaw: alcohol. Also known as the Ale of the Gods, Jericho wanted to rename it the Ale of Jericho. It took a proud spot on the third tier of his ladder of pleasures, beat out only by women and warfare ( and of those two, the top tier he could not pick… ).
There would be many adventures and journeys in his life, many battles won and hardships faced. He has traveled as far across the land as he could before meeting the oceans to the east and west, and has even traversed the sea from Zetomar to Aesterholm many times (though he admits to never having crossed The Great Sea himself). He has climbed Targs Teeth on the eastern point of the Tsond Mountains to retrieve Valhron’s Armor and Spear, and trekked across the Setani Desert in search of the finest weapons smith in the land. He once journeyed into the Infernal Heath to retrieve Ankador’s Shield and learned how to make Black Eggs from the skilled, stealthy warrior clan of Orgond. His horse, Vakr, is a massive palomino, four hands higher than the average horse; he was a beast of burden bought as Jericho searched the wilds of Eire for his fathers people, the Azrean tribe. His dread weapon, the Armor Splitting Short Axe, he took from the body of a felled foe at Veram Swamp.
”And those green bastards thought their magic held some sort of candle to the might of Jericho Almados!”
The journey that had taken him into the swamp started with the battle against the Undead who had overtaken the city of Iliua, where he quelled the army of the dead and brought The Boy to a violent and terrible end.
It was this battle the marked the turning point in Jericho’s life. No longer was he a warrior with no cause or country. He had done what was right…because it was right. Just a few nights later he had met his friend, Lorryn, whom he had lusted for at first and then taken a fond liking to later.
It was Lorryn who had caused him to cut off the hand of a man during a petty brawl in a bar along the Serpan Mountains.
His violence made him who he is today. His quickness to kill the necromancer child at Iliua and the single deft move that had taken the man's hand in the bar known as The Bear's Balls became a testament and a haunting reminder to him of what he was; what he truly was. A warrior who had survived alone most of his life, independent of any one thing to push him forward save for his own strength, and skill, and cunning. It wasn't long after the battle of Veram Swamp that he would part ways with Lorryn and begin a journey that would take him across much of the known world. Twice he was shot with arrows and lived to tell the tale; once during a bounty turned ambush in Grunwald, and again, this time with a poison tipped arrow, while fighting bandits in the Setani Desert. He would father three son's; Kai Almados, his son with Liadan, and two bastards he would never know born of him and Minerva Cedarleaf. It was a funny thing to Jericho; she trained his Mountain Wolf, Fico, to be of the most loyal companions he had ever had, but yet would never allow him to know his children.
Still, even with his hardships and likewise hard learned lessons, there was one thing he had to admit...
Old habits die hard.
Site History:
- 1st of Estria, AoS 4010- Jericho arrived on the plains of Caldrea on his 39th birthday in the thread Reflections, met Airo Maldorn, Cyri Stormborn, and Malificer before battling a Shub and Ardearian, the many headed hydra that guards the Village of Worms.
- 4th of Rastrii, AoS 4010- Took Anasta captive outside of Moki’s Brotherl in Helm’s Break and returned her to Contobur, where he learned that she was in fact his sister in the thread wolfteeth!.
- 7th of Merieaux, AoS 4010- Reunited with Lorryn during a troll ambush on the outskirts of Helms Break during Needle in a Haystack, suffering superficial wounds.
- 18th of Lunari, AoS 4010- Fought the [url=http://solabren.proboards.com/index.cgi?board=oaisis&action=display&thread=305
[/li][li] 9th of Ories, AoS 4010- Encountered Flowering Death and its minions during a trip through the Forest of Eire with Lorryn, Sancraid, and Alakaia in Falling Leaves, where they were also stalked by the Proliaos known as Kothro.
[/li][li] 21st of Aroila, AoS 4010- Met Haeldor Arknep in the Eastern Marches of Zetomar in I Have Nothing, where he helped the recently widowed mother of one out of a storm and into shelter.[/li][/ul]
**********[/b]
