The Chronicler
05-29-15, 01:04 AM
Name: Sir Magnus the Chronicler
Nickname/Alias: The Painted Knight
Age: 22
Race: Human
Height: 6'6”
Weight: 220 lbs
Occupation:*
Personality: The Chronicler is a knight of the Order of the Forgotten, and as such is equal parts artist, scholar and warrior. He is generally level headed, only letting his emotions get the better of him when books are damaged or artifacts are destroyed. He is a chronicler, keeping everything for posterity and taking careful notes to ensure that nothing is lost to history. Though he tries to live honourably, he is of the opinion that no knowledge is unfit for human eyes, and that information is inherently neutral. He does not believe in forbidden knowledge, and will stop others from destroying 'evil' relics or grimoires if able. No good comes from oblivion, even if some things should be contained for the public good.
History: The man who would come to be known as The Chronicler came from humble beginnings, a war orphan and refugee from a distant land. Left with no memories of his home or his people, the boy drifted as one lost, with not even a name to call his own. This sorry state is how he was found by the aged Sir Ector, veteran of a thousand campaigns and burdened with a nigh impossible dream. The seasoned knight had witnessed too much loss, too many lives snuffed without a trace. It was after a particularly close call with annihilation that he realized his mission: to safeguard the wisdom of the ages from the ever encroaching darkness. He would find every scrap of paper, every tome, every lost mosaic he could and stockpile it somewhere safe. He would found an order to collect and protect the works of civilization, a giant archive that would span across a dozen keeps in a dozen lands. No single threat would risk man's accumulated knowledge again. But he also knew that this could not be the work of one man, and certainly not one with more days behind him than ahead. And so, the boy.
Sir Ector began training the boy immediately, bringing him back to court as his squire and granting him the name Magnus, in honour of the great destiny he foresaw in him. The boy took to his lessons with zest and vigour, reading and re-reading every volume he could find, and training at arms to exhaustion. Sir Ector showed him that the mind was the greatest weapon in a knight's arsenal, and that the matters of court could be as dangerous as a battlefield. The young apprentice also discovered another surprising interest; that of the arts. He found that art was a purer form of knowledge; one that can not die with language as so many ancient texts had. He also found that he excelled at it. It was not long before the walls of the old knight's Hall were covered in tales from forgotten histories and folklore. His skill with a brush was rivalled only by his skill with a blade; and as the years passed they found use in equal measure. Fighting alongside his mentor during the day and painting their exploits by candlelight, the lad found a form of peace. But it was not to last.
It was near the end of a particularly long corridor that Sir Ector found himself cut off from his protege and facing a particularly beefy minotaur. The days had grown increasingly exhausting and painful for the old man, and he knew his adventuring days would soon be over. He cursed the frailty that had left an opening for this monster, and backed his way towards the door. The beast swung its monstrous hammer back and forth across the narrow hallway, knocking bricks from both sides with a sinister grin. Ector knew the precarious position he was in, as he could neither turn from his foe nor let that mace within striking distance. That was when he found the door with his back. Out of room. A wiry arm raised a battered shield. A monster angled back, eyes bulging, hot breath steaming from its nostrils. The hammer cracked the low ceiling as it swung up, and was brought down with superhuman force. The shield, supported with both arms, splintered into hundreds of little pieces; the elder's sword fared no better, and the unstoppable cudgel found purchase with a sickening crack on the old soldier's weathered greaves. His destroyed leg went down in a flash, and Sir Ector tumbled to the floor. The bull let out a satisfied chortle and let his hammer lie in the small crater it had made of the cobblestones. It would gore this pathetic ancient worm that had dared face him, and with a growl brought his horns down at this crumpled tin toy. This would prove to be a mistake. With what remained of his strength (and sword), the veteran jammed his splintered blade up underneath its chin and through the top of the skull. The ground shook as the massive form fell back in a spray of blood. This was how Magnus found them, finally free of a trap of his own; the broken body of his adoptive father and only friend lying in an ever growing pool of shared gore. He frantically pulled the old man free, but both knew that it was bad. If he were to live, he would never ride again, never again walk the garden grounds of his Hall unassisted.
Against the many protests to leave him, Magnus brought the man home as quickly as he could. The best healers were brought from wherever they could be found, and his life was saved. But not his leg. This was the final push for Sir Ector to declare Magnus worthy of succeeding him, and ready to begin building the Order in earnest. The old man and his aides would collect, organise and protect the items Magnus would seek out for them, and the catacombs beneath the Hall would be fortified and converted to the first makeshift archive.
Appearance: Magnus is a human, albeit an excessively large one. Clad in full-plate armour, he casts an imposing silhouette. Lurking under the helmet are striking amber eyes, long black hair and a long pointed beard.
Skills:
Archivist- The Order of the Forgotten are essentially librarians first and warriors second, and as such he has an extensive knowledge of history, literature and folklore. In the rare event that he is unfamiliar with something scholarly, his years as a researcher aid him in locating a source that might know more. This applies (though to a lesser extent) to magic as well, helping him recognize it and perhaps find a way to counter it if need be.
Linguist- This is mostly a consequence of his research, but he has naturally had to learn at least a passing amount of languages and dialects to transcribe and preserve texts he has encountered. This includes both ancient and modern (though in honesty, the old ones are his favourite).
Painter- A personal passion, a tradition that would come to define the Order of the Forgotten in years to come. Never without his painter's kit, The Chronicler would paint a memorable scene or sight directly onto his armour after many an adventure. As his legend were to grow, so too would his armour fill up with bright and fantastic images recording his exploits. This would become not just his signature, but that of his Order.
Chivalry- Raised in court by a knight of the realm, Magnus learned the conventions of high society, the formalities of the nobility and a code of honour. Though he was born outside of that cloistered world, he painfully learned how to navigate its perilous passages with aplomb.
Skill-at-Arms- Knowing the dangers that reclaiming light from the darkness can bring, Sir Ector certainly did not skimp on the arms training. It is important for an elite fighter to be skilled with more than just a sword, and so he received at least moderate training with a whole host of weapons from all across the land. Magnus showed particular prowess with the lance, and is as deadly a charger as can be found anywhere. When without a horse, Sir Magnus takes advantage of his overwhelming size and strength to wield a bastard sword and shield.
Horsemanship- The long rangings that he undertook with Sir Ector made riding skills a must, and his affinity with a lance only made it all the more obvious that this would be a focus.
Abilities:
Defensive Wall: Whether on horseback with a lance or on foot with a sword, the one constant in battle is a strong shield. Years of conditioning while in full armour has led to increased stamina and familiarity while on the defence, and as a result he can withstand stronger attacks longer than your average sell-sword. He can block the attack of a human strength character with a melee weapon without being pushed back or staggered, and block a barrage of no more than three arrows at a time before continued assaults on the same point begin to take their toll. After four consecutive strikes his arm will begin to falter and break if the trauma continues.
Opening Assault: Relying on his wealth of martial training and familiarity with his weapons, Magnus springs into battle with a furious charge. Once with twelve meters (forty feet) of his opponent he lets fly the francesca, trying to break a shield or stagger his foe. Running shield first into his opponent he bashes them mightily, pushing or knocking them down, and finally his long sword finishes with a devastating thrust through their hopefully shattered defences. This is of course limited as an opening gambit, and can not be performed once engaged in melee. He also must recover the francesca before he can attack at range again, so he must wait until the area is cleared of enemies before pulling the axe free. Still, it is a frighteningly effective combo if performed correctly.
Over-sized Weapon: Due to his large frame and peak human strength, along with years of conditioning, The Chronicler can wield a large, heavy bastard sword with one hand (or with two when attack is a greater priority than defence). This allows him to inflict heavier blows to his enemies than a standard arming sword, and thus he can cut deeper and hit heavier than an average shield user. This greater weapon, when combined with his prodigious strength, allows him to strike twice as hard as an ordinary man.
Equipment/Weapons:
The Chronicler carries a set of full-plate iron armour, battered and dented but still functional. He has a large iron bastard sword on his hip, rough but still deadly, a long iron heater shield on his back and a notched iron Francesca looped opposite his blade for closing distance to his foes.
Sir Magnus has formed a strong bond with his warhorse Pertinax, his steadfast (or steedfast, if you will) companion. He is a powerful stallion, bred to support a knight in heavy armour at full tilt, and his superior training and conditioning make him unwavering in combat where lesser horses might spook or frenzy. The puissant destrier does not tend to respond well to strangers, and so far has been too willful to let any but Magnus ride him, though a more loyal steed could scarcely be found throughout the many realms of Althanas. He is big and lean, and has a glossy black coat.
The knight is also never without his painter's kit (with brushes, paints and other such supplies), adventuring tools (rope, grapnel, rations) and tome. The tome is his greatest possession, brass plated and locked to anyone but himself, it is where he writes his findings and logs the events of the day. Once full it is sent back to Sir Ector and another is procured. In this way, no stories are lost.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Edited!
Nickname/Alias: The Painted Knight
Age: 22
Race: Human
Height: 6'6”
Weight: 220 lbs
Occupation:*
Personality: The Chronicler is a knight of the Order of the Forgotten, and as such is equal parts artist, scholar and warrior. He is generally level headed, only letting his emotions get the better of him when books are damaged or artifacts are destroyed. He is a chronicler, keeping everything for posterity and taking careful notes to ensure that nothing is lost to history. Though he tries to live honourably, he is of the opinion that no knowledge is unfit for human eyes, and that information is inherently neutral. He does not believe in forbidden knowledge, and will stop others from destroying 'evil' relics or grimoires if able. No good comes from oblivion, even if some things should be contained for the public good.
History: The man who would come to be known as The Chronicler came from humble beginnings, a war orphan and refugee from a distant land. Left with no memories of his home or his people, the boy drifted as one lost, with not even a name to call his own. This sorry state is how he was found by the aged Sir Ector, veteran of a thousand campaigns and burdened with a nigh impossible dream. The seasoned knight had witnessed too much loss, too many lives snuffed without a trace. It was after a particularly close call with annihilation that he realized his mission: to safeguard the wisdom of the ages from the ever encroaching darkness. He would find every scrap of paper, every tome, every lost mosaic he could and stockpile it somewhere safe. He would found an order to collect and protect the works of civilization, a giant archive that would span across a dozen keeps in a dozen lands. No single threat would risk man's accumulated knowledge again. But he also knew that this could not be the work of one man, and certainly not one with more days behind him than ahead. And so, the boy.
Sir Ector began training the boy immediately, bringing him back to court as his squire and granting him the name Magnus, in honour of the great destiny he foresaw in him. The boy took to his lessons with zest and vigour, reading and re-reading every volume he could find, and training at arms to exhaustion. Sir Ector showed him that the mind was the greatest weapon in a knight's arsenal, and that the matters of court could be as dangerous as a battlefield. The young apprentice also discovered another surprising interest; that of the arts. He found that art was a purer form of knowledge; one that can not die with language as so many ancient texts had. He also found that he excelled at it. It was not long before the walls of the old knight's Hall were covered in tales from forgotten histories and folklore. His skill with a brush was rivalled only by his skill with a blade; and as the years passed they found use in equal measure. Fighting alongside his mentor during the day and painting their exploits by candlelight, the lad found a form of peace. But it was not to last.
It was near the end of a particularly long corridor that Sir Ector found himself cut off from his protege and facing a particularly beefy minotaur. The days had grown increasingly exhausting and painful for the old man, and he knew his adventuring days would soon be over. He cursed the frailty that had left an opening for this monster, and backed his way towards the door. The beast swung its monstrous hammer back and forth across the narrow hallway, knocking bricks from both sides with a sinister grin. Ector knew the precarious position he was in, as he could neither turn from his foe nor let that mace within striking distance. That was when he found the door with his back. Out of room. A wiry arm raised a battered shield. A monster angled back, eyes bulging, hot breath steaming from its nostrils. The hammer cracked the low ceiling as it swung up, and was brought down with superhuman force. The shield, supported with both arms, splintered into hundreds of little pieces; the elder's sword fared no better, and the unstoppable cudgel found purchase with a sickening crack on the old soldier's weathered greaves. His destroyed leg went down in a flash, and Sir Ector tumbled to the floor. The bull let out a satisfied chortle and let his hammer lie in the small crater it had made of the cobblestones. It would gore this pathetic ancient worm that had dared face him, and with a growl brought his horns down at this crumpled tin toy. This would prove to be a mistake. With what remained of his strength (and sword), the veteran jammed his splintered blade up underneath its chin and through the top of the skull. The ground shook as the massive form fell back in a spray of blood. This was how Magnus found them, finally free of a trap of his own; the broken body of his adoptive father and only friend lying in an ever growing pool of shared gore. He frantically pulled the old man free, but both knew that it was bad. If he were to live, he would never ride again, never again walk the garden grounds of his Hall unassisted.
Against the many protests to leave him, Magnus brought the man home as quickly as he could. The best healers were brought from wherever they could be found, and his life was saved. But not his leg. This was the final push for Sir Ector to declare Magnus worthy of succeeding him, and ready to begin building the Order in earnest. The old man and his aides would collect, organise and protect the items Magnus would seek out for them, and the catacombs beneath the Hall would be fortified and converted to the first makeshift archive.
Appearance: Magnus is a human, albeit an excessively large one. Clad in full-plate armour, he casts an imposing silhouette. Lurking under the helmet are striking amber eyes, long black hair and a long pointed beard.
Skills:
Archivist- The Order of the Forgotten are essentially librarians first and warriors second, and as such he has an extensive knowledge of history, literature and folklore. In the rare event that he is unfamiliar with something scholarly, his years as a researcher aid him in locating a source that might know more. This applies (though to a lesser extent) to magic as well, helping him recognize it and perhaps find a way to counter it if need be.
Linguist- This is mostly a consequence of his research, but he has naturally had to learn at least a passing amount of languages and dialects to transcribe and preserve texts he has encountered. This includes both ancient and modern (though in honesty, the old ones are his favourite).
Painter- A personal passion, a tradition that would come to define the Order of the Forgotten in years to come. Never without his painter's kit, The Chronicler would paint a memorable scene or sight directly onto his armour after many an adventure. As his legend were to grow, so too would his armour fill up with bright and fantastic images recording his exploits. This would become not just his signature, but that of his Order.
Chivalry- Raised in court by a knight of the realm, Magnus learned the conventions of high society, the formalities of the nobility and a code of honour. Though he was born outside of that cloistered world, he painfully learned how to navigate its perilous passages with aplomb.
Skill-at-Arms- Knowing the dangers that reclaiming light from the darkness can bring, Sir Ector certainly did not skimp on the arms training. It is important for an elite fighter to be skilled with more than just a sword, and so he received at least moderate training with a whole host of weapons from all across the land. Magnus showed particular prowess with the lance, and is as deadly a charger as can be found anywhere. When without a horse, Sir Magnus takes advantage of his overwhelming size and strength to wield a bastard sword and shield.
Horsemanship- The long rangings that he undertook with Sir Ector made riding skills a must, and his affinity with a lance only made it all the more obvious that this would be a focus.
Abilities:
Defensive Wall: Whether on horseback with a lance or on foot with a sword, the one constant in battle is a strong shield. Years of conditioning while in full armour has led to increased stamina and familiarity while on the defence, and as a result he can withstand stronger attacks longer than your average sell-sword. He can block the attack of a human strength character with a melee weapon without being pushed back or staggered, and block a barrage of no more than three arrows at a time before continued assaults on the same point begin to take their toll. After four consecutive strikes his arm will begin to falter and break if the trauma continues.
Opening Assault: Relying on his wealth of martial training and familiarity with his weapons, Magnus springs into battle with a furious charge. Once with twelve meters (forty feet) of his opponent he lets fly the francesca, trying to break a shield or stagger his foe. Running shield first into his opponent he bashes them mightily, pushing or knocking them down, and finally his long sword finishes with a devastating thrust through their hopefully shattered defences. This is of course limited as an opening gambit, and can not be performed once engaged in melee. He also must recover the francesca before he can attack at range again, so he must wait until the area is cleared of enemies before pulling the axe free. Still, it is a frighteningly effective combo if performed correctly.
Over-sized Weapon: Due to his large frame and peak human strength, along with years of conditioning, The Chronicler can wield a large, heavy bastard sword with one hand (or with two when attack is a greater priority than defence). This allows him to inflict heavier blows to his enemies than a standard arming sword, and thus he can cut deeper and hit heavier than an average shield user. This greater weapon, when combined with his prodigious strength, allows him to strike twice as hard as an ordinary man.
Equipment/Weapons:
The Chronicler carries a set of full-plate iron armour, battered and dented but still functional. He has a large iron bastard sword on his hip, rough but still deadly, a long iron heater shield on his back and a notched iron Francesca looped opposite his blade for closing distance to his foes.
Sir Magnus has formed a strong bond with his warhorse Pertinax, his steadfast (or steedfast, if you will) companion. He is a powerful stallion, bred to support a knight in heavy armour at full tilt, and his superior training and conditioning make him unwavering in combat where lesser horses might spook or frenzy. The puissant destrier does not tend to respond well to strangers, and so far has been too willful to let any but Magnus ride him, though a more loyal steed could scarcely be found throughout the many realms of Althanas. He is big and lean, and has a glossy black coat.
The knight is also never without his painter's kit (with brushes, paints and other such supplies), adventuring tools (rope, grapnel, rations) and tome. The tome is his greatest possession, brass plated and locked to anyone but himself, it is where he writes his findings and logs the events of the day. Once full it is sent back to Sir Ector and another is procured. In this way, no stories are lost.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Edited!