Post by seyashi on Jul 28, 2015 8:20:20 GMT
Name:
Erik Verleth
Age:
36
Nationality:
Swadian
Hair:
Dirty Blond/Brown
Eyes:
Hazel
Facial Markings:
No markings, but there is a well managed beard on his face.
Skin Color:
White
Height:
6'1
Weight:
195 lb
Build:
Muscular
Body Markings:
Scars across his chest, arms, and back
Interests:
Justice and Balance. Enjoys a good drink, like most. Loves to laugh, and make others laugh. Companionship, loyalty, and trust.
Dislikes:
Injustice and Chaos (obviously). Deceitfulness, stupidity, blindness(not literal blindness), cynicism, treason, crime, sociopaths and psychopaths, and twisted dark moralities.
Strengths:
Fighting prowess, leadership ability, Well-spoken, Honesty (also listed as a weakness), Loyalty, Perceptiveness
Weaknesses:
Honest, Self-righteous, Cautious (a weakness in my eyes)
Skills:
Fighting prowess with his weapons of choice (listed below), Horseback riding, Diplomacy, Politics
Fears:
A chaotic and lawless society, death, losing his friends and companions, being publicly flogged or shamed
Profession:
Grandmaster Knight of the Order of the Black and White
Backround/History:
Erik grew up an only child of a wealthy Swadian family. As a boy his father emphasized combat training, but would not let him train combat without several hours spent beforehand in their home's library. This made him very well rounded in multiple fields, but he never really had a choice as to what he could become. As soon as he was the age of 12, his father used his connections and got Erik to become a squire for an knight who was otherwise decent besides his constant love for drinking. This drinking, however, was what got Erik on the fast track to knighthood.
One fine day, Erik was to accompany his knight from Praven to Suno. There had just been a tourney in Praven, and Erik's knight had actually done quite well for himself, and wanted to get to Suno quickly, where he would spend his earnings on several luxuries. On the road to Suno, however, they were ambushed by looters who were after the earnings. Erik's knight was drunk, but managed to take out three of the five looters. Unfortunately, he took an arrow to the calf, and a hammer to the knee, so he was in no shape to stand, and was eventually cornered by the two remaining looters while he lay on the ground writhing in pain. Erik, who had hidden under the earnings cart, decided it was finally time to act, and picked up a nearby rusty sword and charged from behind. He miraculously caught the two by surprise and drove his sword into the one on the left's back, an instant kill, it was a thrust through the heart. The other looter, obviously enraged, slammed Erik in the head with his club. Erik, now laying on the ground, crawled backwards, his knight no longer writhing, and now laying unconscious, was of no help, so Erik continued to crawl backwards, fear striking his young heart. The looter raised his club, and just as he was about to swing it, Erik grabbed a broken spear laying near another looter's dead body, and stabbed it into his current opponent. He had won, and because he saved the life of his drunken knight, he was soon given a knighthood himself, at the mere age of sixteen.
As a young and newfound knight Erik competed in tourneys and did everything any other knight would do, but as time passed he decided that he wanted more from life, so he and his oldest and best friend, Andras, who was also a knight, founded The Order of the Black and White, a knightly order that would be dedicated to keeping balance within society and delivering justice. Erik would not have looters threatening the lives of others who could not defend themselves, others who were not as lucky as him and would otherwise die if attacked by criminals. This order, which Erik founded in his early twenties, was originally meant to be a group of knights who patrolled Swadian territory, ridding it of all criminals who would dare to disturb the peace. As time passed, this group's purpose became more righteous, and expanded further than just Swadia. Erik looked all over, accepting knights who believed the same as him, that chaos in society was intolerable, that injustice was something that needed to be cast away. As a knight of The Order of the Black and White, your purpose was to keep order, for without order there is just chaos, and when there is just chaos, the world is most grim.
Erik is a natural leader, able to rally his knights against savage men with just a few words. There were many times where he and his men had been outnumbered, and his men's morale low, but he still was able to grasp victory out of sure defeat. The quality that allows Erik to be so unrelenting is his strong belief in order. If he were to lose a battle against a few criminals, then what could he have accomplished? If they killed him, then he would be allowing chaos to flourish in the world, and he would rather die than allow that to happen.
Tale of the Order of the Black and White
It was a beautiful spring morning in the Swadian village of Elberl. The roosters had just crowed, and the dew on the grass lay untouched, that is, until--Splash! Down came a splatter of blood, mixing with the morning condensation. The untouched grass was flattened by the lifeless body of the woman villager whose throat had just been cut. A barbaric laughter sounded moments after, and the man who had cut her throat, otherwise known as Elric the Fierce, cleaned his sword on the furls of the dead woman's dress. He turned aside to the rest of the woman's family, a man who was being held by two other brigands, and one child being kept on his knees by another two bandits. He turned to the father, "You know who I am, right?" The father, crying, nodded. "NO! Look at me...and say my name! I know you know it." The father, gasping for air, spoke, "El-Elric th-the Fierce." He gulped loudly and looked back down at the grass. Elric smiled a toothy grin, his broken teeth noticable now, "That was simple, was it not? Now about the village's treasure..where exactly is it?" The father spoke again, "I-She-We told you, it does not exist, it is a-" "WRONG! You are wrong again!" Elric bellowed. He slapped the father, "If there is no treasure, I am wrong, and I am never wrong! Do you understand that!?" The father was about to nod, but caught himself, and looked at Elric and spoke, "Y-yes, I understand, but I don't know where this treasure is." Elric shook his head, "Damn it. I didn't want to do this. You made me do this. This is not something I enjoy, I just want the money, but you aren't helping me and I don't understand why. Your wife is dead, and now so is your son." Before the father could even speak, Elric's sword was inside the young boy's chest. The father yelled out in emotional pain, bawling like a baby out of a womb. "The Order will have you for this! They will end you! You have taken everything from me, but they will take everything from you! You will never have the treasu-" Chop! The father's lifeless body fell sideways, his decapitated head rolled a few feet to the side. "Burn everything, the treasure is likely underground in some cellar, it will be easily found once their are no buildings in the way."
His four men set out on their tasks. Three of them waited while another went towards the nearest stack of wood to prepare a fire. The brigand that worked by himself reached downwards, but as he leaned forward, a sudden whizzing noise made him alert, but it was too late, the arrow caught him in the throat, and he grasped at his bleeding gullet and fell silently. "Very good, very good." Erik spoke to his archer friend. "I will go in now, four versus one, but I think Elric will wait for me to kill his men before he chooses to fight me. He loves his theatrics, I will face him myself, do not bring help unless you see me fall." Erik patted his man on the back, and mounted his courser, lance in hand, greatsword strapped across his back. He did not try to be sneaky now, he rode out loudly, passing by the dead body of the brigand and picking up his rusted sword. He turned the corner of one of the buildings and found himself face to face with three brigands plus Elric. Erik threw the rusted sword down to the ground, "Your man was caught unaware, unfortunate. Will you surrender, or must I do the same thing to your other three men, Elric?" Again that horrible laughter resounded, and then Elric spoke, "Oh look! The Order! They came for me! Hah! Come now Sir Verleth, do you take me for a fool? Your 'justice' would be a simple execution, wouldn't it? I can't have that, come boys, kill the grandmaster knight!"
The three ran straight for Erik, one of them was made short work, as Erik threw his lance and caught him in the chest. From his horse he rode forward, greatsword in hand, and slashed downwards, cutting one's head open, and trampling the other with his horse. He turned for a second time, this time lunging forward with his sword, hitting the injured brigand in the chest, and instant death. Elric could be heard clapping from across the battlefield, "Very well done! Erik, could you just hold on a moment, I want to savor this. Killing the Grandmaster Knight, what a beautiful accomplishment it will be." Erik dismounted his horse, greatsword in hand. He cleaned the blood off of it on his thigh, and walked forward, "Enough talk already, your words are so bothersome, and frankly, your voice is just annoying. Come to me, come and meet my justice." Elric was angered by this, and with his sword in hand, he charged.
All of a sudden however, he paused his charge, and from no where pulled out a throwing knife which he threw with deadly accuracy. Erik barely dodged it, and caught it in his left shoulder, he grunted with pain, but now began a charge of his own, sword raised. Elric mirrored him, charging as well, Clang! their swords clashed, and with great speeds the two exchanged blows, landing a cut here and a cut there. Eventually Erik was knocked backwards, and caught a slice to the leg, forcing him to kneel. "YES! THE GRANDMASTER KNEELS TO ME! HAHAHAHA!" Elric ran in, sword raised, ready to cut Erik's head off, but his arrogance was his downfall, his sword being raised left an opening, and Erik was not really as injured as he appeared, he downplayed it, and when Elric got close, Erik stood, thrusting his sword forward right into Elric's stomach. Erik drove it in all the way, his great sword's cross guard could be heard cracking ribs. "You were wrong Elric, it wasn't some boring execution that brought you justice, it was this interesting fight, which I had won from the very beginning. Your emotions got the best of you, and now your sentence has been served. Good bye." He pulled his sword out and cleaned it once more before mounting his courser. Erik looked to the dead villager's bodies, "I was too late, but justice has been served, that is what matters most."
Equipment: Great Sword, Steel Shield, Lance, Courser, Chain gauntlets, Iron Greaves, Great Helm, Heraldic Mail with Surcoat
Erik Verleth
Age:
36
Nationality:
Swadian
Hair:
Dirty Blond/Brown
Eyes:
Hazel
Facial Markings:
No markings, but there is a well managed beard on his face.
Skin Color:
White
Height:
6'1
Weight:
195 lb
Build:
Muscular
Body Markings:
Scars across his chest, arms, and back
Interests:
Justice and Balance. Enjoys a good drink, like most. Loves to laugh, and make others laugh. Companionship, loyalty, and trust.
Dislikes:
Injustice and Chaos (obviously). Deceitfulness, stupidity, blindness(not literal blindness), cynicism, treason, crime, sociopaths and psychopaths, and twisted dark moralities.
Strengths:
Fighting prowess, leadership ability, Well-spoken, Honesty (also listed as a weakness), Loyalty, Perceptiveness
Weaknesses:
Honest, Self-righteous, Cautious (a weakness in my eyes)
Skills:
Fighting prowess with his weapons of choice (listed below), Horseback riding, Diplomacy, Politics
Fears:
A chaotic and lawless society, death, losing his friends and companions, being publicly flogged or shamed
Profession:
Grandmaster Knight of the Order of the Black and White
Backround/History:
Erik grew up an only child of a wealthy Swadian family. As a boy his father emphasized combat training, but would not let him train combat without several hours spent beforehand in their home's library. This made him very well rounded in multiple fields, but he never really had a choice as to what he could become. As soon as he was the age of 12, his father used his connections and got Erik to become a squire for an knight who was otherwise decent besides his constant love for drinking. This drinking, however, was what got Erik on the fast track to knighthood.
One fine day, Erik was to accompany his knight from Praven to Suno. There had just been a tourney in Praven, and Erik's knight had actually done quite well for himself, and wanted to get to Suno quickly, where he would spend his earnings on several luxuries. On the road to Suno, however, they were ambushed by looters who were after the earnings. Erik's knight was drunk, but managed to take out three of the five looters. Unfortunately, he took an arrow to the calf, and a hammer to the knee, so he was in no shape to stand, and was eventually cornered by the two remaining looters while he lay on the ground writhing in pain. Erik, who had hidden under the earnings cart, decided it was finally time to act, and picked up a nearby rusty sword and charged from behind. He miraculously caught the two by surprise and drove his sword into the one on the left's back, an instant kill, it was a thrust through the heart. The other looter, obviously enraged, slammed Erik in the head with his club. Erik, now laying on the ground, crawled backwards, his knight no longer writhing, and now laying unconscious, was of no help, so Erik continued to crawl backwards, fear striking his young heart. The looter raised his club, and just as he was about to swing it, Erik grabbed a broken spear laying near another looter's dead body, and stabbed it into his current opponent. He had won, and because he saved the life of his drunken knight, he was soon given a knighthood himself, at the mere age of sixteen.
As a young and newfound knight Erik competed in tourneys and did everything any other knight would do, but as time passed he decided that he wanted more from life, so he and his oldest and best friend, Andras, who was also a knight, founded The Order of the Black and White, a knightly order that would be dedicated to keeping balance within society and delivering justice. Erik would not have looters threatening the lives of others who could not defend themselves, others who were not as lucky as him and would otherwise die if attacked by criminals. This order, which Erik founded in his early twenties, was originally meant to be a group of knights who patrolled Swadian territory, ridding it of all criminals who would dare to disturb the peace. As time passed, this group's purpose became more righteous, and expanded further than just Swadia. Erik looked all over, accepting knights who believed the same as him, that chaos in society was intolerable, that injustice was something that needed to be cast away. As a knight of The Order of the Black and White, your purpose was to keep order, for without order there is just chaos, and when there is just chaos, the world is most grim.
Erik is a natural leader, able to rally his knights against savage men with just a few words. There were many times where he and his men had been outnumbered, and his men's morale low, but he still was able to grasp victory out of sure defeat. The quality that allows Erik to be so unrelenting is his strong belief in order. If he were to lose a battle against a few criminals, then what could he have accomplished? If they killed him, then he would be allowing chaos to flourish in the world, and he would rather die than allow that to happen.
Tale of the Order of the Black and White
It was a beautiful spring morning in the Swadian village of Elberl. The roosters had just crowed, and the dew on the grass lay untouched, that is, until--Splash! Down came a splatter of blood, mixing with the morning condensation. The untouched grass was flattened by the lifeless body of the woman villager whose throat had just been cut. A barbaric laughter sounded moments after, and the man who had cut her throat, otherwise known as Elric the Fierce, cleaned his sword on the furls of the dead woman's dress. He turned aside to the rest of the woman's family, a man who was being held by two other brigands, and one child being kept on his knees by another two bandits. He turned to the father, "You know who I am, right?" The father, crying, nodded. "NO! Look at me...and say my name! I know you know it." The father, gasping for air, spoke, "El-Elric th-the Fierce." He gulped loudly and looked back down at the grass. Elric smiled a toothy grin, his broken teeth noticable now, "That was simple, was it not? Now about the village's treasure..where exactly is it?" The father spoke again, "I-She-We told you, it does not exist, it is a-" "WRONG! You are wrong again!" Elric bellowed. He slapped the father, "If there is no treasure, I am wrong, and I am never wrong! Do you understand that!?" The father was about to nod, but caught himself, and looked at Elric and spoke, "Y-yes, I understand, but I don't know where this treasure is." Elric shook his head, "Damn it. I didn't want to do this. You made me do this. This is not something I enjoy, I just want the money, but you aren't helping me and I don't understand why. Your wife is dead, and now so is your son." Before the father could even speak, Elric's sword was inside the young boy's chest. The father yelled out in emotional pain, bawling like a baby out of a womb. "The Order will have you for this! They will end you! You have taken everything from me, but they will take everything from you! You will never have the treasu-" Chop! The father's lifeless body fell sideways, his decapitated head rolled a few feet to the side. "Burn everything, the treasure is likely underground in some cellar, it will be easily found once their are no buildings in the way."
His four men set out on their tasks. Three of them waited while another went towards the nearest stack of wood to prepare a fire. The brigand that worked by himself reached downwards, but as he leaned forward, a sudden whizzing noise made him alert, but it was too late, the arrow caught him in the throat, and he grasped at his bleeding gullet and fell silently. "Very good, very good." Erik spoke to his archer friend. "I will go in now, four versus one, but I think Elric will wait for me to kill his men before he chooses to fight me. He loves his theatrics, I will face him myself, do not bring help unless you see me fall." Erik patted his man on the back, and mounted his courser, lance in hand, greatsword strapped across his back. He did not try to be sneaky now, he rode out loudly, passing by the dead body of the brigand and picking up his rusted sword. He turned the corner of one of the buildings and found himself face to face with three brigands plus Elric. Erik threw the rusted sword down to the ground, "Your man was caught unaware, unfortunate. Will you surrender, or must I do the same thing to your other three men, Elric?" Again that horrible laughter resounded, and then Elric spoke, "Oh look! The Order! They came for me! Hah! Come now Sir Verleth, do you take me for a fool? Your 'justice' would be a simple execution, wouldn't it? I can't have that, come boys, kill the grandmaster knight!"
The three ran straight for Erik, one of them was made short work, as Erik threw his lance and caught him in the chest. From his horse he rode forward, greatsword in hand, and slashed downwards, cutting one's head open, and trampling the other with his horse. He turned for a second time, this time lunging forward with his sword, hitting the injured brigand in the chest, and instant death. Elric could be heard clapping from across the battlefield, "Very well done! Erik, could you just hold on a moment, I want to savor this. Killing the Grandmaster Knight, what a beautiful accomplishment it will be." Erik dismounted his horse, greatsword in hand. He cleaned the blood off of it on his thigh, and walked forward, "Enough talk already, your words are so bothersome, and frankly, your voice is just annoying. Come to me, come and meet my justice." Elric was angered by this, and with his sword in hand, he charged.
All of a sudden however, he paused his charge, and from no where pulled out a throwing knife which he threw with deadly accuracy. Erik barely dodged it, and caught it in his left shoulder, he grunted with pain, but now began a charge of his own, sword raised. Elric mirrored him, charging as well, Clang! their swords clashed, and with great speeds the two exchanged blows, landing a cut here and a cut there. Eventually Erik was knocked backwards, and caught a slice to the leg, forcing him to kneel. "YES! THE GRANDMASTER KNEELS TO ME! HAHAHAHA!" Elric ran in, sword raised, ready to cut Erik's head off, but his arrogance was his downfall, his sword being raised left an opening, and Erik was not really as injured as he appeared, he downplayed it, and when Elric got close, Erik stood, thrusting his sword forward right into Elric's stomach. Erik drove it in all the way, his great sword's cross guard could be heard cracking ribs. "You were wrong Elric, it wasn't some boring execution that brought you justice, it was this interesting fight, which I had won from the very beginning. Your emotions got the best of you, and now your sentence has been served. Good bye." He pulled his sword out and cleaned it once more before mounting his courser. Erik looked to the dead villager's bodies, "I was too late, but justice has been served, that is what matters most."
Equipment: Great Sword, Steel Shield, Lance, Courser, Chain gauntlets, Iron Greaves, Great Helm, Heraldic Mail with Surcoat