Storyline
Iron & Blood Storylines
Beneath the heat-blasted helmet, the charred flesh that was the death knight's face stretched into a smile. A waft of fetid breath escaped as he opened his mouth, and from somewhere deep within his unholy body a hiss of air escaped as laughter. Throughout Nedragaard Keep, the ranks of the undead stopped and cringed in fright. Nothing they had ever heard, in life or unlife, was as haunting as their lord's hollow laughter.

Lord Soth, his orange eyes glowing through the slits of his helm, took measure of the decayed ruins of his throne room. Where once the room was decorated with ornate tapestries and intricate mahogany furniture, there now stood tattered rags and rotten husks. The sounds of the court minstrels and revelers had long since faded, only to be replaced by the keening wail of banshees. His honor guard, once a band of fierce and noble knights of Solamnia, were now mindless skeletal warriors.

Soth's smile faded. Nedragaard bore little resemblence to the keeps and castles of his days as the fiercest warrior in the knighthood of Solamnia, or even, for that matter, to Dargaard, his old keep in the land of Krynn, where the death knight committed unspeakable horrors. Now, he ruled a duchy of shadows in the Realm of Ravenloft. How long had he been trapped in this infernal land of mists? How long had he hoped for release?

And all because of the accursed Strahd von Zarovich. How long had he waited for the opportunity to drive a stake into the dark heart of the vampire king? He wished he could drive it deep with his own gauntleted hands, but the curse that trapped him within the realm of Ravenloft also prevented him from leaving the borders of his own domain. Ever since Strahd had used his old seneschal, the ghost Caradoc, to lure him into the Misty Borders, where Soth became trapped within his own domain, the death knight had longed to kill the preening vampire king.

No matter. At last, he had found the means to avenge himself on that count. Strahd had known one weakness, his love for the human girl Tatyana. She was his eternal folly. Some said that it was over his love for this girl that the vampire made a pact with unknown devils, a pact for which he slew his own brother, that caused the rift to open between the worlds and form the realm of Ravenloft. And now, Soth's spies reported that the girl's latest incarnation had once again returned to the lands. With that, Strahd von Zarovich would be his at last.

At the mere thought, the smile returned to Soth's face. His orange eyes glowed like burning embers. With a voice as cold as his undead heart, Soth spoke, "Bring them."

Azrael, the dwarven werebeast who served as Soth's new seneschal, scurried from the room. In a moment, the dwarf returned, leading a force of evil warriors the likes of which the world of Ravenloft, teeming with nightmarish creatures, had never seen.

Even Soth, once the favorite of the dark goddess Takhisis, had to admire the collection of fiends his agents had turned up. Eight warriors of chaos, unique and remarkable in their abilities, stood before him: Urgo, the powerful gargoyle with the hide of stone; Ardrus, the skeletal warrior, who was far more dangerous and cunning than the undead knights who guarded Soth; Sasha, the ferocious werewolf, Nym Pymplee, the goblin warrior with the deadly flashing blades; Balthazaar, the merciless headsman who could sever heads with one clean stroke; Kaurik, the warlord who hid behind a mask made from the skins of his victims; Balok, the viscious black knight; and Stellerex, the dark wizard whose arcane might was rivaled by only a select few within the realm of Ravenloft.

"My minions," Soth began. He could see the warriors bristle at this reminder of the power that Soth held over them. He smiled beneath his helmet. "I have a simple task for you to perform. Succeed, and I shall grant you your freedom."

Stellerex answered for the assembled warriors. "A simple task for our freedom, Lord Soth? Surely you do not believe us to be fools."

"No," the death knight replied. "I have no need for fools in my service>" He folded his armed behind him and turned his back on the assemblage for just a moment -- long enough for them to think of treachery, but not nearly long enough for them to carry through with it. "However, the task I set before you is simple enough. It's execution, however, is another matter. I want you to kill Strahd von Zarovich."

"The vampire lord?" Stellerex remarked. His voice was cool, but Soth could detect a note of apprehension hidden underneath the surface. "Many have tried. All have failed."

"Ah, but never has a band of assassins such as yourselves been assembled. Attack in force, and one... perhaps several... of you will surely be able to rid Ravenloft of such a being. Once again, your reward is simple -- freedom."

The band of evil warriors stirred, looking into each other's faces. Some relished the challenge, while others wrestled with the question of Soth's trustworthiness. It did not matter. They would comply. They had little choice in the matter.

"We shall kill the vampire," Stellerex swore. "We shall gain release from the yoke of your servitude."

Soth watched as his minions exited his throne room. In the coming hours they would prepare for battle, and then they would be gone, free to cross the borders of Soth's domain and into Barovia. They had little chance of succeeding, of course. Strahd was too powerful... too cunning... to allow them to do so. Perhaps at this time, with his attention diverted by the return of the girl, Strahd would prove to be vulnerable. Should the eight warriors prove incapable of defeating Strahd, he held in reserve two even greater opponents for the vampire. In a materpiece of trickery, he had been able to bind into his servitude two viscious demons who had been foolish enough to travel to Soth's domain. He was reluctant to use these demons without cause, as his spies had reported that Strahd had actually managed to acquire oaths of protection from two powerful avatars. However, should his warriors fail, the demons would prove necessary in ensuring Strahd's destruction.

No matter. While Strahd was busy fighting off his assassins, Soth would be busy tracking down the girl, Tatyana. Her incarnations appeared only once every few centuries. Soth would make sure he got to her first. Strahd would lose his beloved once again -- in the cold embrace of a death knight.

"The mists are getting bad." Erland muttered. The elven archer tightened his grip on his bow. "I've never seen anything like it."

He turned to face his companions. Through the cursed fog, he could barely distinguish the outlines of his seven fellows: Torgo, the one armed dwarf; Luthor the paladin; Darius, the gladiator; Xenobia, the woman warrior; Ignatius Max, the halfling thief; Shinesta the outcast elven princess; and Red Cloud, the tribal Shaman. The eight of them had been traveling the road to Waterdeep after successfully slaying the ancient dragon Blackheart and plundering its treasure. The night had been clear and the road well lit by a full moon when the mists sprung up seemingly from the very ground itself. Soon thereafter, they had lost all trace of the road to Waterdeep.

"We'd better link ourselves together," Shinesta suggested. "Before long, we won't be able to see our hands at the ends of our arms, let alone each other."

"Strap ourselves together?" the one-armed dwarf cautioned in a gruff voice. "More like trap ourselves together. This mist, it isn't natural. Something's behind it, and we're bound to find out what before too long."

"Would you rather we wandered off away from each other?" Luthor argued. "If there is something out there, it could pick us off one by one. I'd rather take our chances as a group."

The thief, Ignatius Max, pulled a rope from his pack. The eight looped the rope through their belts and tied themselves together. The fog grew thick and dense as wood smoke. For minutes, maybe hours, they wandered, losing all track of time and the world around them. When it seemed as if they had surely entered the Abyss itself, the fog began to abate.

"It's lifting," Erland spoke. It was the first sound they had heard since they had entered the fog. The silence did not last long. As the mists parted, revealing an old forest at the base of craggy hills, a wolf's howl shattered the stillness of the night. Another howl followed, and soon the sounds of a chorus of wolves filled the air.

Quickly, the band of heroes untied the rope that linked them together. With a flawless precision attained through years of experience fighting side by side, the group formed a tight-knit defensive circle. The wolves surrounded them. The heroes waited for the attack, but it never came. After a time, they slowly began to explore the land around them. The wolves followed, always keeping at a steady distance, coming no nearer nor drifting any farther away.

"Why don't they attack" Xenobia asked.

"They watch us," Red cloud said simply. "For what, or whom, I do not know."

The forest gave way to a clearing. Where grass should have grown, there were only weeds. The soil was rocky and barren, not a fit place for life to bloom. The group marched on, the wolves constantly trailing.

"Where are we?" Darius asked.

"Far from Waterdeep, of that I am sure," Luthor answered.

"I shall attempt to divine that information," Red Cloud remarked. The shaman grasped the totem around his neck, the symbol of his idety Manitou, the great spirit, and attempted to commune with hig god. A look of befuddlement crossed his face, followed by an espression of greater concern. "I... I am unable to make contact... I do not sense Manitou's presence anywhere in this land."

"Aye, I feel the absence too," Luthor added. "We have been cut off from the gods themselves."

Xenobia pointed at the night sky. Where before they had walked under the light of a full moon, they now stood staring at a sliver of crescent mood. The stars in the sky were unrecognizable to any of the band of eight.

"I don't believe we are on Faerun anymore," Xenobia voiced aloud the thoughts of all eight.

The group of heroes moved forward cautiously, ever conscious of the pack of wolves that circled them at a distance. From time to time one of the wolves would bay at the moon, and set the whole lot of them into a baleful chorus.

After a time they stumbled across a fork in what appeared to be a well-traveled road. One branch led higher into the craggy hills. Far in the distance, they could see a bleak castle perched on the side of a mountain. The other branch wove its way into a valley below.

The party stopped at the crossroad. A grisly sight stood before them. Two sharpened stakes, six feet in height, flanked the road. Impaled on each spike was a human body.

Luthor examined the corpses. Peasants, in all liklihood, from th elooks of them. Curiously, there was no sign of blood around the wounds. It was as if they had been drained entirely before being impaled on the spikes.

"What devilry is at work here?" Luthor whispered. "How could we have come to such a world?"

"It's the mists, I'm afraid."

The voice took them all by surprise. Immediately, the eight heroes adopted their fighting stances. They searched the woods around them. The red eyes of the wolves glowered at them in the dark, nothing more.

"What manner of evil spirit are you?" Red Cloud whispered. "Show yourself."


"Forgive me," the voice answered. Where once there was seemingly nothing but a shadow, a well-dressed man stepped forward. With gloved hands, leather boots, starched white shirt, black pants and jacket, and a flowing black cape with red lining, his attire bespoke a man of impeccable taste. "I have forgotten my manners."

Luthor felt the evil radiating from the man like a blow to the head. The paladin stepped forward, double handed sword held before him. "Come no closer, devil."

The man ignored the threat, gliding slowly into the clearing. In the pale moonlight, his skin had the cast of ivory. "Put down your sword, paladin. I have no desire to harm you or your comrades."

Luthor backed away slowly, but kept his defensive posture. The others, following his lead, were wary, relaxing their fighting stances only somewhat.

"Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Count Strahd von Zarovich," the shadowed man spoke, and then gave a courtly bow. "I thought, perhaps, we might come upon an agreement which might be mutually rewarding."

"That's highly unlikely," Erland scoffed.

"Please. Allow me to finish," the count imposed. His voice held its courtly politeness, but the elven archer could tell that the man was acting hard to restrain himself. Evidently, the count was a man not used to interruptions. "I have recently learned that one of my greatest enemies has sent a group of assassins after me. I want you to prevent them from reaching my castle, by any means necessary."

"Why should we help you?" Luthor argued. "Perhaps they come for you for good reason."

"I am sure you have guessed at my true nature, paladin, and I know you would hold no pity for my demise. But my enemy is a loathsome blight upon mankind, and his assassins are abominations -- a treacherous goblin, a viscious headsman, a warlord who wears the skins of his victims..." Strahd waved his gloved hand and cut his line of conversation short, as if that were unimportant. "But you should listen to me for another reason. I can give you release from this land."

"Then you must be the one who brought us here!" Torgo barked.

"I have no control over the mists. They know no master," Strahd responded.

"Then how do you expect to grant us release from them?" Shinesta asked. The elven princess did nothing to disguise her skepticism.

"There are portals of great magic that are capable of transporting you from this world. I know the location of such a portal."

The heroes absorbed this new information. They glanced from one to another, unsure of how to proceed. It was only moments ago that they were on the road to Waterdeep, and now here they were, in a strange land making bargains with a devil!

"Then why haven't you left this accursed place yourself?" Torgo accused.

"Such is my curse that I cannot leave these lands." Strahd bowed his head slightly, humbly before the group.

"Why should we trust you?" Luthor questioned.

"You shouldn't." Cries of protest rung out from the group. "But as the villagers of nearby Barovia would be sure to tell you, I am a man of my word. Besides, you have very little choice. Many heroes such as yourselves have wandered the land of the mists. Many have died, victims of the beasts that infest these lands. Many others have died, old and broken, having searched their whole lives for a means of exit without ever finding even the slightest clue. Perhaps the elves in your party will survive the test of the centuries and eventually find a way out. Can the rest of you take the chance?"

"I don't like it," Luthor grumbled. "I'd rather place my trust in my steel and my wits than the word of a fiend."

"What choice do we have?" Xenobia argued. "To take up his challenge... or to wander these lands forever?"

The heroes searched each other's faces. One by one they nodded their assent. "Aye, we shall do this task for you. For release from this cursed land," Luthor spoke for the group.

Strahd smiled. Fools. They were noble -- and all the more gullible because of it. To think, he had actually considered resorting to using his mind control on them. But that would have dulled their senses, and made them far less useful as protectors from Soth's minions. Their nobility made this all the more unnecessary. They took their oath to protect him, and would fight that much harder because of it. But Strahd, too, had his sense of honor. He would keep his word. Should these heroes actually succeed in stopping Soth's assassins, he would grant them release from this land. And from all others.

Fighters
Ardrus, the Skeletal Warrior
Ardrus Chapter
In his former life, the skeletal warrior known as Ardrus once served as the trusted captain of the guard to King Goodwyn of Aragon. Ardrus held his post gallantly for many years, and was instrumental in saving the good king’s life on several occasions. Jealousy set in, however, when the king’s son was allowed to promote his own champion, a blowhard named Rolph, to the position of Protectorate of the King’s Armies -- a position Ardrus coveted. Rolph and Ardrus were constantly at odds, and it became obvious to the captain of the guard that he would soon be relieved of his duties.

At this time, Duke Alec, a distant cousin of Goodwyn’s, approached Ardrus with an offer: In exchange for Ardrus’ help in overthrowing the king, Alec would promote the captain to the rank he coveted. With little hesitation, Ardrus acted, slaying the rightful king and his son. At that time, the schemer’s full plan was revealed. Alec showed mock outrage at the traitorous Ardrus even as he claimed the throne as his own. His first order was to set Rolph and his troops after Ardrus. Ardrus killed many of his attackers, but he was hopelessly outnumbered. Cut down by Rolph’s soldiers and discredited by his people as a traitor to the throne, Ardrus’ final living act was to vow vengeance against those who had wronged him.

Within a fortnight he was reborn as a skeletal warrior. Given new life, the undead captain of the guard exacted his vengeance, first severing Rolph’s head with one swift stroke, and then crushing the very life out of Alec. To this day, the skeletal warrior despises mortalkind and seeks to send as many men as possible to their deaths.
Balok, the Death Knight
Balok Chapter
Balok was once a great champion for good. The lord of a mountain keep, Balok was renowned as a just, fair leader of men. The good knight was born under a dark star, however. His downfall came upon a doomed expedition to the ruins of Blackspire Tower. There, it was rumored that many men had been sacrificed in a black magic ritual before an order of knights razed the tower. Hidden deep within the catacombs of the tower was an unholy sword of great power. The sword was both sentient and evil, and sensing Balok’s presence, it called out to the great champion. Balok heard the sword’s siren call and, seduced by the glory it promised him, quickly claimed it as his own and carried it back to his home. That very night, Balok was beset with nightmares of blood. Later that week, Balok struck savagely at one of his men in a sparring session. The unholy blade tasted blood for the first time. In a moment, its thirst overwhelmed Balok, and he slew his sparring partner.

One victim was all the vampire sword needed before it was able to exert its complete will over Balok. The knight’s mind became warped, and soon the admired lord of the keep became a feared and hated man. Adorning black armor and a massive helm, Balok’s outward appearance became as twisted and dark as his mind. His lust for evil grew until, in a fit of madness, he slaughtered every living being in his keep. He now travels the world, guided by his vampire blade, seeking more blood for the blade’s unquenchable thirst.
Balthazaar, the Headsman
Balthazaar Chapter
Out of all the warriors of chaos, none is more infamous for his cruelty than Balthazaar the Headsman. While still a youth, he was apprenticed to the Headsman’s Guild. There he showed terrific strength and technique, but his teachers grew worried about his uncommon zeal for his tasks. Despite their concerns, Balthazaar was allowed to take oath as a member of the guild. The young headsman quickly displayed his trademark cruelty when he severed all of the limbs of a condemned man before finally putting the poor man out of his misery.

Balthazaar was soon cast out of the guild for breaking their code of honor, whose tenets called for a swift, clean, merciful death. Balthazaar was infuriated by his dismissal, and soon he had the heads of the guild for his very own. Balthazaar now roams the world, plying his trade where possible, inflicting punishment on both the just and the wicked with equal pleasure.
Darius, the Gladiator
Darius Chapter
Born a slave in the city-state of Atticus, Darius was sold as an infant to one of the gladiator schools that flourished in the region. From the time he could walk his masters trained him in the fighting arts. There was no weapon or tactic that Darius did not quickly master. As the young boy’s skills grew, the challenges his masters threw his way became ever greater. While still a youth he was battling full grown hill giants and battle-hardened combat veterans hoping to make their riches in the arena. Darius conquered them all, and by the time he reached adulthood he was the reigning gladiator champion of Atticus.

If all of Atticus had had his strength of spirit and iron will, the city-state would never have fallen, but the free people of the land had grown soft and corrupt. When barbarian hordes poured forth out of the wastelands, they found only token resistance, and the city-state was soon overrun. With Atticus thrown into chaos and his masters dead or dying, Darius fought his way through the barbarian hordes and won his freedom.

Ever since he’s sought to uphold his reputation and honor as a gladiator by seeking the toughest challenges he can find. An adherent of the gladiator’s strict code of honor, Darius has fulfilled his masters’ teachings by becoming the consummate warrior.
Erland, the Elven Archer
Erland Chapter
Erland spent his youth in the wilds of the Silverwood Forest. A loner by nature, Erland shunned even his fellow elves and instead devoted himself to learning the ways of nature and mastering the art of archery. In this latter respect, he has succeeded, for no man is his superior with a bow.

Erland would have been content to live out his life roaming the forests that he called home, but a blight fell upon the land. Kharon, a dark sorcerer of great evil, bespoiled the sacred oak grove that was the forest’s heart. In a short time, he managed to pervert the mighty oaks and bend the forest to his twisted will, draining the vital life essences from nature herself and feeding his own growing power. Erland joined a select band of druids and rangers who sought to end the blight on the land. Many perished as the woods themselves animated and turned on the band of adventurers, but Erland managed to fight his way through to the now dead heart of the sacred grove. He was caught by the warped oak terrors, but even as their limbs sought to crush the life out of him, he managed to unleash one of his arrows. The arrow found its mark and pierced Kharon’s heart. Although the wizard died, the druids could do little to restore the damage he had already wrought to the lands. With his beloved Silverwood Forest dying, Erland took to the road, where his mastery of the bow has brought him fame and fortune.
Ignatius Max, the Halfling Thief
Ignatius Max Chapter
Ignatius Max is a thief with few peers. The halfling has learned to compensate for his lack of stature and strength with unnerving speed and mischievous cunning. As a young halfling, Ignatius Max quickly grew bored with the staid country life of his village and ran away to the city of Waterdeep. There, he was forced to survive by his wits. He not only survived, but thrived as well, quickly mastering such thieving arts as pickpocketing and lockpicking. What started out as acts born out of necessity grew into more and more brazen acts of highly skilled thievery.

Ignatius Max gained notoriety for his theft of the crown of Montavia, which he stole directly from the head of the sleeping monarch even as a phalanx of guards stood watch over his chambers. He’s gained the enmity of the priests of the Black Hand for his heist of the Tome of Ulroth during the middle of their black ritual. The hill giant Angor has pledged a king’s ransom for the head of Ignatius Max, who robbed the hill giant blind and sliced off Angor’s pony tail for a trophy before escaping his chambers completely unscathed. Ignatius Max now steals only when a challenge to his great skills is presented to him. Cocky, stealthy, and lightning fast, Ignatius Max is a deceptively dangerous foe.
Kaurik, the Warlord
Kaurik Chapter
Kaurik the warlord was the youngest child of the house of Ush, a small duchy outside the Blood Swamps. For many years, Kaurik’s ancestors ruled the duchy justly. Kaurik’s great-grandfather, however, angered the gods when he supplanted their idols with his own graven image and brought down a curse upon the family. The other nobles shunned Kaurik’s family, and each succeeding generation became more inbred and rife with disease and madness.

A teenage Kaurik, his mind already betraying signs of his family’s degenerate ways, fell in love with his sister Agath. The young woman, however, became obsessed with a knight of the castle guard, and drowned herself in the swamp when the soldier rejected her. Grief-stricken, young Kaurik retrieved her body and preserved her remains. Kaurik’s older brother, Magnor, claimed vengeance by slaying every fifth man in the duchy.

Weary of Kaurik’s family’s tyranny, the people of the land and the few remaining soldiers of the garrison rose up in anger and burned the castle down. Every family member died in the fire except for young Kaurik, who escaped into the swamps. Surviving in the wilds of the swamp, Kaurik quickly grew more and more feral.

His fetish for the dead grew stronger and stronger, and soon he began to claim his first victims and fashion their skin into masks for him to wear. In a matter of months the villagers spoke in whispers of the Curse of the Swamp. As he matured, he grew into a tough, cunning fighter even as his mind became more and more warped. A true madman, Kaurik attacks with a berserk and manic rage unseen in most warriors.
Luthor, the Paladin
Luthor Chapter
His birth has been called by some a sign of the gods’ pleasure with mankind. At the tender age of four, priests chose Luthor for the Order of the Golden Cross. By the age of thirteen he was already the finest warrior the Order had ever produced. At nineteen, Luthor set out on the road to adventure determined to convert as many heathens as he could to the Order’s cause.

His daring deeds have swayed many. He healed the bleeding prince of Ruetra, rid the world of the ancient wyrm Red Fang, and recovered the Order’s most sacred relic, the cross of St. Kristoff, from the lich king Wodron’s legions. Many wonder what he has yet to accomplish. Blessed by the gods and devoted to their righteous cause, Luthor is the Order’s greatest champion. He fights vigilantly in his eternal mission to bring order and good to the world, and to smite down evil wherever it may be found.
Nym Pimplee, the Goblin
Nym Pymplee Chapter
Nym Pymplee is a rare and exceptional goblin feared throughout the lands. Known as the Mad Goblin, Nym attacks with his two wicked cutlasses, which he keeps jagged to inflict more pain on his enemies. Although Nym Pymplee quickly demonstrated that he was the finest warrior of a race of war-like people, he had no desire to be a war chieftain. His exceptional talents caused great jealousy amongst the other clansmen, particularly his rival Mor Og.

As he returned from a hunt one evening, a squad of goblins sent by Mor Og ambushed him in a narrow pass. Nym Pymplee returned to the goblin caves with a sack of heads, which he rolled at Mor Og’s feet. The goblin quivered in fear. Then, making sport of his terrified rival, Nym Pymplee uttered for the first time his infamous, guttural war cry, which caused the cowardly goblin to wet himself. A moment later, Nym Pymplee added Mor Og’s head to the pile, and turned his back on his village forever.

Now he roams the wilds terrorizing those unfortunate enough to encounter him. Even the bravest warrior can be forgiven for losing his nerve at the sight of Nym Pymplee.
Red Cloud, the Shaman
Red Cloud Chapter
Red Cloud was the respected tribal shaman of the Grey Wolf Clan. Red Cloud spent most of his adult life living off the plains and providing healing and counsel to his people. He was a respected friend and advisor to the chief, Great Elk. One spring day, Great Elk led a hunting party out into the plains. Only Howling Wolf, the chief’s son, returned, claiming that the neighboring Bear Claw Clan had ambushed them. The tribe sought to avenge their loss, and slaughtered many members of the Bear Claw Clan. Howling Wolf claimed the mantle of leadership, and Red Cloud took on his role of shaman with a heavy heart.

That summer, a great drought struck the plains, and the tribe found food and water scarce. Red Cloud sought divine aid, but the gods no longer heeded his prayers. He suspected that his people were being punished, and went on a vision quest to try to regain the gods’ favor. After many days, he saw a vision of a grey wolf dying and vultures picking at its bones.

When he returned to his tribe, Red Cloud proclaimed that the son had killed the father in order to become chief. Howling Wolf angrily denied the charges, and ordered that Red Cloud be punished for his blasphemy. For seven days Red Cloud was tied to a stake and left out in the hot sun with only a cup of water to last him through the day. Not one tribe member came to his defense, and so it came to pass that the gods decided to punish the Grey Wolf Clan. A swarm of insects rose from out of the plains, devouring everything in its path. When they had passed, only Red Cloud remained alive amongst them, his ropes worn away. Red Cloud has been a shaman without a tribe ever since. He remains devoted to his gods, however, and carries out their will wherever he travels.
Sasha, the Werewolf
Sasha Chapter
Sasha served as a handmaiden to Gwyneth, the daughter of a rich nobleman in the province of Heathsland. Sasha coveted the life led by her noble companion. When a knight of some prestige passed through the town, Sasha saw an opportunity to attain a position above her station. The knight promised her the world, and soon she was with child. When the child’s birth was imminent, however, the knight foreswore Sasha and became betrothed to Gwyneth. Mad with jealousy and grief, Sasha gave birth to her child and then drowned the infant boy in a nearby lake. The people of Heathsland were outraged by her heinous acts and sought to stone her. Sasha escaped into the forests, where she scrounged for survival like an animal.

One evening, she stumbled upon a druidess praying in the middle of a sacred grove in the middle of the forest. Tortured by her guilty soul, Sasha approached the druidess and sought her guidance. The druidess told her that if she confessed to her crimes and sought redress from the gods, her suffering would be alleviated. As she sat down to prayer, however, her jealousy and rage took hold of her, and she lied to the gods in their grove. The druidess shook her head in sorrow, and cursed Sasha for her crimes. For the rest of her life, she was doomed to spend her nights wandering the earth in the guise of a beast. Sasha’s jealousy and rage still burn deeply within her, and while in werewolf form, she is a ferociously savage fighter.
Shinesta, the Elven Princess
Shinesta Chapter
As a young maiden, Shinesta shunned her clan’s heritage, and has spent her days wandering the world ever since. Shinesta’s people disavowed all magic after the catastrophic spells unleashed during the War of the Seven Clans nearly led to the destruction of the entire elven race. They relegated themselves to the roles of guardians of the ancient lore, but refused to partake of this knowledge themselves. To Shinesta’s adventurous young mind, this seemed like the height of folly. Even as a young girl she knew she was different from her clanspeople. She took to sneaking into the vast elven libraries at night and studying the arcane arts. Eventually she was caught by her father, the king. Confronted with the choice of her clanspeople’s vows or her own love for magic, Shinesta chose to defy her people’s taboos. Her father had no other choice, and so Shinesta, his only child, was cast out into the wilderness.

Shinesta might have died alone in the wilds if she hadn’t been taken in by a band of travelers. At last she was able to see a world full of wonders beyond her clan’s own dim view of life. A quick study, she learned everything she could about magic. Now, she wanders the world in pursuit of knowledge. Haughty and independent, lethal with both her spells and her staff, Shinesta has never looked back.
Stellerex, the Wizard
Stellerex Chapter
Stellerex’s dark genius guides him through his life. With an intellect far superior to that of most men, he was able to master the complexity of the black arts with surprising ease. As an apprentice to a greedy magician of moderate skill, Stellerex absorbed all the man could teach before turning on his master and burning him alive with a spell of his own making.

This has been Stellerex’s pattern ever since -- training with magicians and then destroying them whenever they’ve taught him all they could. Now, he is hard pressed to find any human master left who has anything new to teach him, and so he travels through the planes searching out avatars and demons who can add to his dark knowledge.

His brilliance and discipline have saved him many times from beings far more powerful than he. Cold, calculating, and ruthless, Stellerex is a very dangerous foe.
Torgo, the Dwarven Fighter
Torgo Chapter
Torgo is a veteran of the infamous Ironspur Wars that wrought havoc on the realms that called the Ironspur mountains their home. Torgo was the central figure in the legendary battle for Skull Rock Pass. Surrounded and hopelessly outnumbered by a battalion of 1000 orcs, the 100 warriors of the dwarven Spike Helm clan would surely have perished to their foes’ superior numbers if Torgo had not rallied his men with his mad rush on the ogre chieftain Grok. Smashing through Grok’s surprised guard of orcish warriors with hammer blow after hammer blow, Torgo engaged in a ferocious struggle with the ogre leader. An axe blow from the chieftain cost Torgo his arm, but the dwarf merely gritted his teeth and charged into the ogre with his spiked helm lowered. Before the dust had settled Grok lay underneath the far shorter Torgo, his skull crushed from a mighty hammer strike. The blood-crazed dwarf emitted the dwarven clan’s war cry before bloodloss finally caused him to lose consciousness. Seized by a berserk rage, the contingent of Spike Helm dwarves soon routed the stunned orc battalion.

Never one to rest easy, Torgo has not let his injury slow him one bit. He has learned to compensate for the loss of his limb by developing a series of deadly strikes and counterstrikes with his one good arm. Torgo remains a fierce, proud opponent.
Urgo, the Margoyle
Urgo Chapter
In the kingdom of Avent, the young prince Medwyn began dabbling in magic. The prince was spoiled and cruel, and despite the warnings of the court magician, he began to experiment with dark magics. His strange experiments resulted in many hideous, if harmless, beasts: a sparrow with the eyes of a cat; a duck with the legs of a spider; and a fountain that bled. As he grew older, however, he grew more bold.

When a thief sold him an ancient tome, he began to work with spells of even greater power. One ritual in particular caught Medwyn’s eye -- a spell that would bind a demon into servitude. Medwyn followed the book’s instructions, and managed to trap the soul of a minor demon named Urgo in a protective circle. Medwyn’s talent for dark magics betrayed him, however. He sought to use the demon’s soul to animate a stone gargoyle who would do his bidding. Medwyn fumbled with the intricacies of the spell, and while he managed to animate the gargoyle with the demon’s soul, he failed to bind it into his servitude.

Urgo quickly turned on Medwyn and crushed the life out of the spoiled prince, bone by bone. Urgo’s rage grew, however, when he realized that he was trapped in the gargoyle’s body. This rage fuels Urgo’s actions, and now he seeks to destroy all things made of flesh and bone.
Xenobia, the Warrior
Xenobia Chapter
Xenobia the warrior was raised in the snow-covered hills of the Ardenides by a proud and hardy band of hillsmen. A woman in a man’s world, Xenobia has had to prove herself many times over. As a teenage girl, she became the first woman to carry out the tribe’s ritual of passage when she slew the White Bear that served as her clan’s totem. The nomad people’s respect for her grew, however, when she single-handedly killed a white dragon that had terrorized the hill tribes. At last, Xenobia found acceptance amongst her people as a woman warrior.

Her skill as a swordswoman has grown throughout the years. Known for her raw strength and courage, Xenobia is a battle-hardened warrior who will fight until she draws her last breath.
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Based on Arakune [Dark]
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