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[CENTER][IMG]http://jokopoko.250free.com/Mordheimlogo.jpg[/IMG]
[IMG]http://jokopoko.250free.com/textcityofdamned.gif[/IMG][/CENTER]
[COLOR=TEAL][SIZE=1][B]

In the vast Empire of Man ruled by the mighty Emperor Karl Franz there lays a black rock in the jewel of man, that place is known as Mordheim, City of the Damned. Though its unholy name is now stricken from the records of the Great Library at Altdorf, and its ruins razed by Magnus the Saviour of the Empire, I would tell you the tale of the cursed city, brought low by the wrath of gods, I would tell you the tale of Mordheim, City of the Damned.

[CENTER][I]In the last year of the second Millennium, five hundred years before the rule of the most benevolent Emperor Karl Franz, there fell a time unlike any other. Just as they had before the birth of divine Sigmar, the wings of fire in the sky again heralded the coming of great things - the coming of Plague, the coming of War, the coming of Pestilence and the coming of Hunger.[/CENTER][/I]
[CENTER]-==============================-[/CENTER]

[U][I]Mordheim as it was[/I][/U]

In its time Mordheim was one of the greatest cites in the Eastern part of the Empire, it was made rich by its trade with the Dwarves of Karak Kadraz located in the Worlds Edge Mountains. Though Mordheims main life force came from the River Stir which runs straight through the middle linking it not only with the rural towns and villages of the south-east but also with the great city Altdorf from which the traders could gain my rare items not easily found or made in the east. Not only was Mordheim rich in trade but also the cities militia could be called the Empires guardians for they prevented many Orc war bands from the Mountains from invading the Empire from the eastern borders. As well as the rich trade Mordheim was the capital of the state of Ostermark being second only to Nuln and the state being ruled over by the noble family of Steinhardt, the count had his palace within the opulent rich quarter of the city.

Before the comet and the coming of the dark times so much wealth and prosperity was pouring into the city it seemed that Mordheim had a realistic claim to be the Empire?s second city after Altdorf. Mordheim was a place of learning with its grand library and a place of the arts with glittering monuments and fine high-domed buildings. But Mordheims prosperous times did not last.

Mordheim prospered through the misery of the common folk; the merchants grew rich and fat selling their wares for inflated prices and the poor spiralled to new levels of poverty as they struggled to survive. Hedonism was rife amongst the decadent upper classes of the cursed city and many say that ancient, dark rituals were practised in many a noble house. Desperate to escape their bitter lives of drudgery the poor joined their twisted new masters in a vain hope of a brighter future. This was to be their undoing for such depraved acts of self-indulgence were to bring down the wrath of the gods upon them. In 1999 the Hammer of Sigmar struck the crowded city of Mordheim in the shape of a twin-tailed comet as the people made merry and wallowed in their sordid revelry. Only the pious Sisters of Sigmar would survive the fireball that enveloped the city by hiding and praying in the fastness of their abbey that is known as the Rock.

[U][I]Mordheim as it is today[/I][/U]

Now Mordheim is a city rife with darkness and evil things since the great impact of Sigmar?s divine comet, it is now the lair of the fell Shadowlord of which little is known. The source of all the evil within Mordheim and why races of all the Old World risk their lives and their sanity in coming to this damned place is for one object, the Wyrdstone. The value of the Wyrdstone shards is not simply the price a merchant is willing to pay for them, it is well known that the shards are full of magic and will grant a variety of powers to those who learn to use them. If is for the money that the Men and Dwarves come to Mordheim and it is the magic that brings the High Elves, Dark Elves and Skaven to the cursed place.

[U][URL=http://www.specialist-games.com/mordheim/mmap/northeast/northeastpic.jpg]North-East Mordheim[/URL][/U]

[I]?You?ve survived your excursions into the Temple Quarter and the Rich quarter have you boy? Are you sure that you?re quite prepared for the horrors of the old Merchants? Quarter? Once the cosmopolitan centre of old Mordheim, a place of bustling markets and busy quaysides. It was said that there was nothing you couldn?t buy in Mordheim for the right price. Now it seems that the price of exploring the ruins of the North-eastern quarter is death or worse at the claws of fouler things than the tax collectors of old...?[/I]

In a terrible twist of fate, the merchant?s quarter still remains the most opulent region of the accursed city. Should any adventurous soul wish to visit the ruined library or take a chance and stroll through the market place, it is highly likely that they may discover some rare goods that have survived the fall. Leaving the quarter with your life is a different matter though, for the District of the Flying Horse is also rich pickings for those who seek to spill blood.

[U][URL=http://www.specialist-games.com/mordheim/mmap/northwest/northwestpic.jpg]North-West Mordheim[/URL][/U]

[I]?Back for more, eh? Cemeteries and walking corpses not scary enough for you boy? Well, you?ve explored the Temple Quarter are you prepared for the Rich Quarter? There?s more than just a few Zombies here, I can tell you. Once this place shone like a gemstone, rich and opulent. Once it was the seat of Mordheims power of old for here was where the Count held court. Some say that Count Steinhardt, or whatever has become of him, still holds court in this black place. So, be careful boy, or be dead.?[/I]

Nowadays, the whole area is a nightmarish parody of its former elegance. The once magnificent buildings now lie in charred ruins. Most items of value that survived the fire have long since disappeared, plundered over the years by desperate scavengers. Every so often a war band will emerge from this quarter with treasures found deep within the cellars of an old house. This alone is enough to keep a would-be adventurer?s interest. The burnt-out shell of the Count?s palace is an eerie sight, and tales tell that the count and many of his guests survived the all-consuming fire. In murmured whispers it is said that he dwells there still, within those once luxurious halls. Unable to move due to his enormous bulk he sends his minions out into the streets to bring him back victims to feast upon. Some say that in the dead of night the musicians can still be heard, violins and horns sounding warped and twisted versions of the compositions they once played so elegantly.

[U][URL=http://www.specialist-games.com/mordheim/mmap/southeast/southeastpic.jpg]South-East Mordheim[/URL][/U]

[I]?There are many paths that lead to death and damnation in the thrice-cursed City of the Damned but none more perilous than the path to the old poor quarter in the south-eastern quarter. Be warned youth, for this is not child?s play, it is here that the Hammer of Sigmar struck Mordheim. It is here that the still smoking crater was left. That which is referred to as the Black Pit in hushed tones by the wary, for is it not also said that it is in this same dark place that dwelleth the dreaded lord of the night ? the Shadowlord??[/I]

Only the most brave or foolhardy of war bands dare to explore the south-eastern quarter of the city. Few of those that do are ever seen again, for this part of Mordheim is well known as the domain of the reviled Shadowlord. Here, the war bands of the Possessed hold the sway of power and the closer that a war band gets to the still smouldering crater left by the comet the closer they are to invite death or eternal damnation. Still, those whose greed knows no bounds or those who wholeheartedly believe that the map they have bought (or stolen) is a genuine guide to untold riches will risk their souls. One particular area of interest for the discerning war band captain, that is reputed to be overflowing with wealth, is the area under the shadow of the eastern gatehouse once populated by wizards and warlocks. The rumours go that this area is rich especially with magical artifacts although warriors are warned to be wary of the statues...

[U][URL=http://www.specialist-games.com/mordheim/mmap/southwest/southwestpic.jpg]South-West Mordheim[/URL][/U]

[I]?Ah, your back eh? Still not had your fill of this place then? Well this ought to quench your thirst for adventure, lad. The religious quarter of Mordheim is anything but that nowadays, this place is full of Vampires, Necromancers and others of a less than savoury nature all out for the Wyrdstone. The only upside to this quarter is the vast amount of loot from the old jail-house and court-house that was taken from the criminals before trail and jailing. Be mind full lad, some say the old Rock Abby no longer plays host to the sisters of Sigmar. And watch out for the Sisters and all, they?ll kill anything that moves around here?[/I]

Only the Sisters of Sigmar whose Fortress Abbey known as The Rock, had escaped the destruction in this quarter. They interpreted the saving of their sanctuary as divine intervention. Hundreds flocked to the Sisters seeking protection within the walls but the Sisters stood firm, believing all of the inhabitants of Mordheim to be sinners who should be wiped from existence. They refused to aid the desperate gathering crowds. Even so, they knew the walking dead were an abomination to all that was holy and could not ignore this threat to their beliefs. Venturing through a series of catacombs that ran beneath their Abbey, they fought back the vampires and their Undead hordes. Even the most powerful vampires thought twice of attacking the bands of Warrior Nuns who were a last shining beacon of light within this dark town.

The Sisters deemed that any living thing that dwelt within this quarter was a sinner, for who else would wish to remain within this dread place. So too would the hammers of Sigmar?s retribution judge them. With this constant vigil they still patrol the quarter in large numbers. Constantly fighting off the vampires, necromancers and insane criminal minds that seek to take the quarter for their own devious ends.
[CENTER]-==============================-[/CENTER]
[U]Mordheim Character Sign-up sheet[/U]

[U]Name:[/U] [What?s your character called?]

[U]Age:[/U] [How old is your character?]

[U]Gender:[/U] [Male or Female?]

[U]Race:[/U] [Human, Dwarf, High Elf, Dark Elf or Skaven (Man Rats)]

[U]Appearance:[/U] [Description would be preferred but pictures are fine]

[U]War band/Solo:[/U] [Are you a member of a war band or going it solo]

[U]Starting Quarter:[/U] [Where you and/or your war band starts in Mordheim]

[U]Biography:[/U] [Your characters past] N/B: All men come from the Reikland within the Empire, Dwarves all come from Karak Kadraz, High Elves come from Ulthuan, Dark Elves are from Naggaroth and the Skaven are off the under-Empire which is beneath the Empire of Karl Franz.

[U]Weaponry:[/U] [What weapons do you have? Max of three] N/B: Match the choice to your race I.E. Men are more likely to have swords and crossbows, Dwarves would have hammers and axes etc.
[CENTER]-==============================-[/CENTER]
[U]My Character Sign-up [/U]

[U]Name:[/U] Fredrick von Stikeland.

[U]Age:[/U] 34.

[U]Gender:[/U] Male.

[U]Race:[/U] Human.

[U]Appearance:[/U] Dressed in the traditional Reikland colours of red and white Fredrick is a sight to behold in full battle garb. He stands at around 5? 7? which is truly high for men of the Empire, his hair is a fierce orange and his eyes a livid green that burn with the might of Sigmar. His armour consists of plate-metal over his upper legs and torso with the Reikland colours emblazoned across his torso and his hands covered in protective metal gauntlets. His head ware is normally the beret-like hat of Reikland complete with the red and white feathers attached to the back. His normal choice of weapon is his Halberd; his sword is kept in his scabbard at his side and the rifle upon his back ever ready.

[U]War band/Solo:[/U] War band; The Reiklanders.

[U]Starting Quarter:[/U] The North-East Quarter.

[U]Biography:[/U] Born to a rich and stately family of the Grand Principality of Reikland in the capital city of the Empire Altdorf the life of Fredrick von Stikeland was planned for him from the beginning. His farther was a brilliant tactician and part of the Emperors personal war council commanding a vast part of the army of Reikland as well as several of the defending castles along its borders and his mother was always at home with the children and one of the most respected women of Altdorf. Fredrick was enrolled in the Imperial War Academy at the age of seventeen with the intent to join the order of Reikland Knights but as he grew in the academy he found his true calling was an officer in the Imperial Army, or more to the point, of Reikland.

He left the academy when he was twenty two at the rank of Lieutenant and was assigned to the border castle of Helmgart to be the second-in-command of this important military instillation he quickly won fame in the battles against the green-skins [Orcs] and the foul rat race of the Skaven and was reassigned to the eastern borders of Reikland to assist in fighting off the hordes of chaos in the area, now at the rank of Colonel. Soon after this he was summoned to the court of the Emperor and awarded the highest military honour given in the Empire, Cross of Sigmar and given command of the entire eastern portion of Reikland.

But he quickly grew tired of this position as it kept him confined to the offices and away from any battles because he had reached the status of ?indispensable person? and he returned the Emperors court to request a new position in which he could see action and the Emperor informed him of the tales of the Wyrdstone and it?s mighty power and instructed him to gather a band of his most select men and head to Mordheim to claim this valuable artefact for the Empire and Sigmar.

[U]Weaponry:[/U] One Broadsword, one Halberd and a Reikland Rifle.[/B][/SIZE][/COLOR]
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[font=gothic][color=darkslategray]I don't believe I've seen anyone try a Warhammer rpg yet...Tell me, are we allowed Altered characters?

Name: K'yellyth

Age: 139

Gender: Female

Race: Dark Elf

Appearance: Ky'elleth is a tall dark elf, about 5"8, and typically lithe, though muscled. Her hair is atypically raven, falling to her shoulders, making her skin seem storm grey in comparison. She wears long black breeches, and a shirt that covers her arms and the upper half of her torso. In another non-standard feature, she also wears heavy soled boots, though she remains soundless. Leather bracers with hooks adorn her forearms. She fights with the normally cermonial ghlaith and lakelui. A ghlaith is a sickle like implement, used to deliver a paralysing blow to an enemy's spine. The lakelui in this case is a bladed staff. Two feet of handle, one foot of blade, curving backwards. She also carries a wraithen, one of the dreaded dark elven repeating crossbows.

War band/Solo: Solo.


Starting Quarter: South East.

Biography: Taken by Witch Elves as a newborn, and bathed in the Cauldron of Blood, Ky'ellyth was one of the few elves to survive that ritual, and as such was brought up an assassin, the most devoted of Khaine's followers. Originally from Har Ganeth, when she was fully accepted into the Kryrnaa, she ended up in Karond Kar, the city of of the beastmasters that train the monstrosities found in the cold wastes. After years there, eliminating those that the Khainites wished, Ky'ellyth was directed to seach for the wyrdstone in Mordheim, in aid of the Khainites feud against the six convents. It was reasoned that in that place, a devoted servant of the Lord of Murder would fare best.

Weaponry: [What weapons do you have? Max of three] : Ghlaith, lakelui, wraithen.[/font][/color]
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[SIZE=1]Name: [B]Aerandir Lúinwë, widely known as Robin (The birds, Robin, not the character Robin).[/B]

Age: [B]141[/B]

Gender: [B]Male[/B]

Race: [B]Dark Elf[/B]

Appearance:
[B][URL=http://www.angelfire.com/biz4/okumartstuff/images/Elf.jpg]Somewhat like this[/URL], only his skin is much darker, more of a dark grey-ish red colour. His hair is a dark red colour. The bronze parts on that picture are red, and so is most of his clothes.[/B]

War band/Solo: [B]Solo (I'd rather be Solo, meh...)[/B]

Starting Quarter: [B]North-West[/B]

Biography: [B]From Naggaroth, Aerandir grew up by himself, alone most of the time. Aerandir learnt as much as he could about himself, and anything he wanted to learn. All the time he would work alone, fight alone, live alone. He'd always been Solo. As time went on, the more he grew, the more he became a loner. Aerandir learnt to wield two long blades, and he decided to wander around for awhile, and see what there was to the world.

One evening, he was training for awhile with his blades, and something made him stop. He watched the trees for awhile... and something caught his eye... a small bird... Even though he was a loner, he began to like small creatures, which soon gave him the nickname Robin. Aerandir didn't mind, but he always liked creatures. Because of this, he never really cared what went on outside his world, well, he never used too, but that changed... later on.[/B]

Weaponry: [B]
[URL=http://www.bladesbybrown.com/lotr/images/warriorswordthumb.jpg]Twin Baldes[/URL] With a curved blade at the end, and the strange markings on the handles, just like in that not so good picture.[/B][/SIZE]
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[color=darkgreen][size=1]God, I love your RPGs Jokopoko!

[b]Name[/b]: Ronin Merhom

[b]Age[/b]: 25

[b]Gender[/b]: Male

[b]Race[/b]: Human

[b]Appearance[/b]: Standing at a booming 5'4'', Ronin has rusty, short, brown hair that is quite shaggy looking. He has a bit of a small beard (Scruff/fuzz, not that much) and dark green eyes along with a small scar on the side of his fairly large forehead. His attire is a bit rugged looking but it gets the job done. He wears a normal black, ragid tunic with a long sleeved dark green shirt under it with black nuckle-cut gloves and bindings on his wrists. Under the tops part of his torno he wears a thin lining of chain mail. He then wears a black belt and dark green pants that are some what covered up by the ends of his black tunic. He then has medium sized black boots. Around his neck hangs a polished green stone with an odd sympol in the middle of it.

[b]War band/Solo[/b]: Extreamly small "War Band" of 5 men who call them selves [i]The Forgotten Force[/i].

[b]Starting Quarter[/b]: North-East

Biography: Born into a poor family in the capital of Reikland, Ronin has always been looked down upon as nothing but a street rat (as he calls it). Ronin was the youngest of 5 children in his house hold, but always seemed to be the one everyone looked to because he was so much like his father, who was usually working 4 different jobs a day so he could make some money. Due to the poor conditions he lived in, health issues stunted Ronin's growth giving him the fairly small size he is at now.

When turning the age of 6, two of Ronin's brothers died from illness and his mother passed away soon after that, not able to keep herself going with the life she and her family lived. Ronin soon began to take on multiple jobs trying to get money to help pay for meals for the family, but nothing seemed to give them enough money, pretty soon his eldest sister also died from the bad living conditions. Just being his father, last sister, and himself, the family packed what little they had a left Altdorf. Ronin's father then told him of how their family might be much better off from events that could have happened in the past. Ronin's father was an amazing sword master and had trained for a good part of his life so he could get into the imperial forces, but he was rejected because he had taught himself how to weild a sword and his own style of fighting seemed crazy to those of the Imperial forces.

Once they finally settled on the out skirts of Altdorf, Ronin asked of his father to train him in the way he did sword fighting. So, for the years to come, Ronin was trained under his father's eye in the his own style of fighting. He mastered it after much training and his father soon passed on when Ronin was 22. Deciding to give a shot at joining the forces, he and his sister went back to Altdorf where he was rejected like his father, but mainly because of his small size. In rage, Ronin left the capital city while his sister stayed behind to start a new life for herself. Over the years, Ronin met up with other fighters like himself who were out casted from the city. They put together a small "war band" of about 7 or so fighters and claim themselves [i]The Forgotten Force[/i]. Upon seeing another War Band and some solo fighters heading for the Wyrdstone, Ronin and his small band decided to go as well, hoping to prove to the Empire what they could do.

[b]Weaponry[/b]:
Long sword: [img]http://www.filmswords.com/images/conan/destroyer/DESTR2.jpg[/img] (Held on the left hand side of his belt)
Fangs Dagger: [img]http://www.jodysamson.com/images/daggers/fangs.jpg[/img] (held on the back of his belt)
Pole/Staff: A black metal pole/staff with makings of gold carved into it. (Held on Ronin's back)[/size][/color]
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I thought I recognised those names..Warhammer it is.

Name: Marcus von Arklan

Age: I don't think even Marcus remebers

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance: Not a terribly tall man, standing at 5,6 with long unkempt hair of dark brown and thick stubble that mars his striking features. Dressed in the garb of an Imperial captain, dark red shirt with balooned sleeves worn underneith a thick velvet tunic of dark blue, hung down to just below his waist. A soft brown leather jerkin is worn over both. Brown leather pants cover his legs and shin high boots, black leather with velvet folded tops studed with silver cover his feet. These fine garments, however, are now faded and torn. The soles of his boots are filled with holes, his sleeves are torn asunder and the heavey rapier he carries at his side rusted and nicked. The whole ensemble is covered by a ragged cloak of sack cloth in an attempt to blend into the surroundings.

War band/Solo: Solo, the war band he intitally travelled with was salughtered by skaven mercenaries

Starting Quarter: North-West

Biography: Once captain of the 32nd regiment of the Imperial Guard, Marcus' squad was given a mission to scout into the horrid realm of Mordheim to gain intel on the Shadowlord for the Emperor. Marcus was adored by his men, a great leader. They would have marched to the ends of the earth if only he had given the word. Deep in the darkened hells of Mordheim they looked to him for guidance, something which, eventually he could not provide. Cornered in the former Merchant quarter, his entire regiment was cut down by a large band of venomous skaven mercenaries. Every last man lay dead upon the fetid earth, Marcus himself discarded for dead by those loathsome rats. Left alone within the city Marcus hid from roaving bands and deadly spectres, attempting to keep himself alive in the hell hole. Unable to find his way out, every turn causing him to travel deeper into the city, he gave up trying and succumbed to a life forever tainted by the dark sky's of Mordheim.

Weaponry: Blunted rapier, belted at his side. Thin stilleto blade hidden in his boot. Small chain he keeps wrapped around his left hand.
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  • 2 weeks later...
[COLOR=TEAL][SIZE=1][B]Looking good people, thanks for signing up to this RPG. Harlequin, if you mean what I think you mean [Using characters from the game itself] I have no problem with that ^_^. Your all in btw and I think I'll start this RPG when we have around seven or so people and if there is only you in your Warband the rest are NPCs so you can have people die and such in your posts *Looks evil* so don't worry about choosing to be in a Warband that no one joins.[/B][/SIZE][/COLOR]
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[COLOR=DarkRed]Name: Scrul

Age: 28? (How fast do they age?)

Gender: Male

Race: Skaven

Appearance: He stands at 5'4" when fully erect, though he's usually hunched over. His fur is black, the mark of a true killer, and his sharp teeth are stained a nasty shade of yellow. He wears crimson robes and hides his tail under them, also covering his face. He wears brown rags around his feet in a pitiful attempt to hide them and keeps his sleeves over his hands.

Starting Quarter: South-West Mordheim

War band: Clan Moulder

Biography: He was at one time, a breeder of fierce war beasts. During a series of skirmishes and raids, made mostly by the dwarven miners of Karak Kadraz, they lost a good share of their warpstone. Seeing as how they use warpstone for nearly everything (jezzails and globadiers use a lot), the Lords of the clan began to look for other locations of warpstone. Their beady eyes finally settled on Mordheim, the land of rich merchants and powerful evil. They finally sent Scrul out to do see if the rich merchants have as much as they think.

Weaponry: A sword,and a sphere of warpstone gas wrapped in a wool blanket. (For the record, he has no gas mask thing.)[/COLOR]
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Harlequin, I'm stupid - what's a cat. mod?

[B]Name:[/B] Siegrid Banesylvia

[B]Age:[/B] 22

[B]Gender:[/B] Female

[B]Race:[/B] Human.

[B]Appearance:[/B] I have no idea..yet. I'm pming Jokopoko 'bout this. Be patient with me.:)

[B]War band/Solo:[/B] Sisters of Sigmar

[B]Starting Quarter:[/B] The South-West Quarter

[B]Biography:[/B] Siegrid was raised from birth by the other Sisters of Sigmar. Her home has always been The Rock, and she has lived her entire life in the abbey and in the dark ruins of Mordheim. Her mother was also a Sister of Sigmar, but she violated their strict religious codes and became pregnant. She was kept alive until Siegrid was born, and then thrown out of their abbey. However, they kept and raised Siegrid because she was an innocent babe, and their was no blame on her life. There was no reason that she should suffer because of her mother's sin.

However, that stain was always upon Siegrid's life. From the very start, from before she could remember, the Sisters were always warning her of falling to sin, just like her mother had. They really emphasized it with her, always telling her of her mother's betrayal of her sacred vows, and telling her that she might at any time fall to temptation. Although they meant good, the constant reminders of her mother's sin causes chaos on Siegrid's mind. She almost drove herself crazy in the abbey, trying to follow their dogmas perfectly, almost maniacal in her devotion. Inside, her feelings of rage were brewing, almost to be unleashed.

However, fortunately one of the Sisters saw Siegrid's close fall to insanity, and gave her something else to put her mind on - combating the abominations of Mordheim. Siegrid was put to training, in which she flourished. She was natural in combat, dangerous in her high and growing levels of skill. Her insanity was contained by slaying the unnatural; it was a way to channel everything out of her system. Soon, she grew to be one of the most fierce of the Sisters, frightening in her rage, and terrible to behold in her skilled dance of death. Siegrid now leaves The Rock regularly in her fight against sinners - she will unquestioningly slay any who are within her path, except for the other Sisters. However, even this brings no peace to her troubled and frenzied mind - the thought that she might fall into sin or temptation still plagues her, tainting her every thought in life. She kills to try to rid herself of this, but the nightmare instilled in her childhood is still with her. She's zealous in a crazed way, although it looks like she contains it, and she's explosive in her fury and battle against sin.
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Name: Ragnar Wolf Cloak

Age: 33

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance: Dressed from head to toe in Full Plate Armour, with a green tabard and thick wolf-fur cloak. His visor is almost constantly down, but when it is up a pale and gaunt face can be see, with black eyes peering out of sunken sockets.

War band/Solo: Solo

Starting Quarter: South-East Mordheim, hunting Skaven

Biography: Ragnar is the bastard son of the Elector Count of Reiksland and a Kislevite woman. Almost immediately after birth he was was given away to a kindly begger, who raised and fed him until he was ten. The beggar constantly told Ragnar tales of his father, the Elector Count of Reikland,'s proress in battle, a story the beggar had been instructed to drill into the boy by his mother. At ten Ragnar left of his own free will to join the local Halberdier regiment. He quickly rose through their ranks, killing countless orcs, skaven, Chaos and, on one occasion, Wood Elves, until he was promoted to Greatsword, an honour which he felt meritted acceptance by his father. This was not so, and, with little more than the clothes on his back, he was visciously discharged from the unit. Baring a large chip on his shoulder he travelled north to Kislev, in search of his mother, but he never found her. He became famous among the north as he defeated hordes of Chaos demons single handedly, driven by his fury at the empire that he was driven out of. In passing one day he heard that his mother was being held captive at Mordheim by a powerful necromancer, so, embittered by the horrors he had seen fighting on the edge of the Chaos wastes, he enterd the empire once more, a changed man, famous in the north, and with the armour and weaponry to prove it.

Weaponry: Greatsword, Shield, Handweapon
---
Yes I am a Warhammer nerd.
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