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Julian Manderforth
Far to the west of generally charted mainland, lies a landform surrounded by a span of seas known for their turbulent, rocky waters. This continent is a melting pot of sorts, all races accepted, some welcomes yet some only tolerated. It is the hub of all trade in the vicinity, relying on neighboring nations for anything they cannot cultivate themselves. Trade ships traffic these waters for such agriculture, some voyages lasting days, others weeks. The seas are relatively temperamental, storms rousing up these waters, making charting sea charts a laborious task. One such sea, distantly north of the great continent, is known as the Majestic Sea of Regal Waters. It is known for heavy gales year round, save one season where sailing is feasible. Many a ship has been submerged with the sea’s wrath, yet some still succeed. Distantly north, situated between two violently warring nations, is a copious run-of-the-mill land known simply as Dyrnian. Here, farmlands are common and small towns litter the landscape. Farming is commonplace as harvesters cultivate all that they are able and hope the skies will provide enough rain to grow crops. Much of what they do grow, they trade with the mainland for a few coin and what they themselves cannot plant or tend. The cities, average in size to their larger cousins on the mainland, are where most trade takes place, with farmers setting shops here and there for commerce purposes. These towns are not much for wealth; they simply trade as they do, and close for the night. The streets are not well attend to with most roads made of dirt or mud in the rainy seasons, cobblestones in the more traveled areas. Some people gather and have taken residence around these cities. One such family is couple in their prime named Gil and Marianna Manderforth. They moved from the mainland years ago to start a new life in the leisurely walks of Dyrnian. Times were rough for the two and Marianna wanted to have child but was found to be infertile. This saddened both her and her husband, yet life went on, and they tried for many years with no luck. One evening, as the moon peeked from around velvet clouds, a great downpour developed, the winds howled, and thunder and lightning prevailed, Gil lit a candle, and with his wife, slumped to his knees and prayed to the heavens that the Lord bring them child. They cried out with all their hearts, begging for a baby to call their own. Just then, a loud knock hammered on the Manderforth’s front door. Gil opened that door to find a small baby lying in a bundle of cloth on their front step. The baby was calm, and the Manderforths took this as a blessing, and welcomes the child into their home. They named him Julian, and raised him as their own. Years passed, and he supported his father in the fields, and when he was of age, supported in city as well. Life was good, yet the Manderforth’s had a troubling secret that they had kept from that fateful evening… their child possessed pointed ears. Julian was told that he was no different from the other children, and when he went out into public, Gil told him to cover his ears with his now long locks. Julian thought nothing of it at first, it was all he knew. But rumors spread, and the children of the town exchanged whispers when Julian walked by. Whispers turned to comments, Julian was teased, poked with sticks and had rocks thrown at him. The other children laughed in delight, but Julian was able to set that side at first. But sticks and rocks became violence, and Julian could take no more. He welled up all his anger and took a swing at one of his provokers, knocking him to the ground. Julian began to fight back to those who ridiculed him, finding it easier than being idle and his father grew anxious when Julian’s entire personality changed aggressively; from that day forward he never was much for authority. With few friends, Julian spent his time moving in shadows, avoiding those that persecuted him. He became adept at hiding, and it became a way of life outside his home. Idle days were spent exploring the forested areas around the town, and soon Julian discovered a small hut deep in the woods. Strange words barked from within, and Julian peeked into a window to see small green creatures – orcs – trampling about and cooking in a large caldron. After his chores he often ventured back to the hut and over time learned their tongue, running it through his mind and practicing it when he was alone. The other families had life much easier than the Manderforth’s, children boasted new clothes, their parents had soap to bathe, and items that the Manderforths coveted were almost commonplace with the others. Julian had to do with what he had – rags to wear and bathed every few days. Again, the children gleamed with pride over their fortune compared to Julian. Julian again held back for a time, but once again his anger got the best of him, and he began to sneak around and take what he pleased, so that he would be no different than the others. Stealing was easy, and over time became routine for Julian. Things he hadn’t before suddenly appeared in his hands, and parents became suspicious of Julian’s deceitful walk. In his teens, Julian was taken away by city guard and placed into a holding cell in the heart of the city for a few days. Julian’s disobedient ways progressed there to making his way past the closed doors of the jail. This pattern reoccurred many times, and Julian’s word was trusted no longer. One day, Gil took his son aside and produced a trio of items that had been secret – a handwritten note that has laid with his child, a large shiny silver sword with strange inscriptions, and a small silver ring adorned with an almost supernatural gem. The note explained many things that Julian didn’t know. Things like how his true father was a sea merchant and his mother a elven seamstress. They met and fell in love, but their parents objected, not wanting the taint of another race to corrupt their family. It didn’t matter, and the two ran away together. Soon, she was pregnant. The father sailed off the next day, and was never seen by his mate. She gave birth, and left the infant on the front step of an indiscriminate house. Julian snatched up the fateful note, sword, and ring, and left his house behind in search of his homeland. He had never really traveled far before, but now he had an aspiration to find his heritage. Julian’s search proved unfruitful, till he ventured into a large city far to the west. Nothing was special, until Julian came across an old beggar lying in the gutter outside a local tavern. He kept walking, but behind him the hobo called out. Seems the man was more than just a homeless person, he was a washed up prophet, but said that he recognized Julian’s heritage in his face. The two ventured to the local cathedral, where they met a priest who they handed the note to, and he spoke the truth. Seems Julian’s father was a sailor and his tendency to sleep around with many different women, and his mother who had died soon after childbirth. Julian swelled with anger, not just for the life he had been given, but for his father who never really cared for his mother and used her to get his kicks. Without a word, Julian turned and tread heavily out the door, but the priest caught up with him and inquired about a weapon and ring. Julian stopped and walked back. Seems the priest knew even more than he previously lad them to believe. Julian stayed there for many days, resting and talking with the priest about his parents and what they were like. It wasn’t an appealing past, but it was all they could go on. The priest also taught Julian the elven tongue, the language of his birthright. Those same words where engraved on the hilt of the sword he carried, the weapon that was by his father’s side on his many travels, a weapon that felt warm to the touch while in Julian’s hands. The words spoke a vow that only those of his blood can use this weapon to its full potential, to parry proficiently, to strike faster than any adversary, and inflict a spiritual wrath from essence of departed ancestry. The ring was a trinket of his mothers, she wore it on the day he was born. It was said that it had a aura cast upon it to grant mystical powers to the bearer. When Julian inquired about the ring all that was said is that it will show its full ability when the time is right. With no more to learn, Julian headed back home. His mind was cleared, all questions answered. Those same hills and fields he trekked before seemed more vivacious in his mind. They didn’t have that same aura of mystery that they had before. The skies were a more vibrant blue, the grasses a brighter shade of jade, and the winds more lively. Everything was clear as he came to find what he was ultimately looking for, and at that point nothing meant more to him than family. With that thought, Julian came to see a massive fog of smoke rising up from the direction of his hometown. With a brisk run he found his hometown in besieged and a blanket of flames. Slaughtered bodies lied in the streets with inflicted fatal wounds dripping pools of blood. Houses were burnt to the ground. He went out onto the streets battle ready - not caring who was to come upon him. Seeing those that he had known cold dead he felt no penance for their lost lives. Julian darted to his parents home to find them sprawled on the floor. His mother’s throat was slit and his father was wounded yet still holding on to life with a dagger lodged in his chest. Julian cradled him in his arms but to no avail so after laying his fathers limp body carefully onto the ground and removing the weapon from his chest, an immense hatred intensified inside Julian as he had lost those who had loved him and nothing else mattered but himself. A party of soldiers from a neighboring nation, a friendly nation, burst into the room and snatched him up from his kneel on the floor. With dagger in one hand and his fathers blood on the other, he was taken out of the building to come before a few remaining villagers who had somehow made it through the attack. Julian recognized their faces – the people that had ridiculed him so. They cried out when they saw him alive. He struggled against them all, and unexpectedly SNAPPED—with a quick strike, wedged the dagger into the chest of one guard, and a blow to the face of another. A quick fight ensued, and three more lives where taken but not on the conscience of Julian. It didn’t matter to him anymore. He had no one else is in the world, and nothing mattered but himself. Those remaining villagers saw the rage in Julian’s eyes and begged for him to spare their life, and he raised his weapon to the sky, prepared for a fatal strike, but stopped. He looked deep into their eyes, and could see the absolute fear they felt. Their bodies trembled with the tension of the moment as they felt that they were to die like the rest, but Julian simply lowered his weapon, collected the ring, and walked about the village in a daze too study the incalculable destruction before him. How everything he had ever known was now a pile of burning rubble. Nothing left for him. Soon after, more soldiers marched through the city and found Julian among the bodies and flaming debris. They charged him with killing the villagers, obliterating the village, and he denied it but was taken to a nearby jail where he was placed to stay for the rest of his days. Or so they thought….. Julian spent many weeks lying in a cold stone cell, counting the sunrise and sunset, and listening to the cries of other inmates. Things seemed grim, with constant supervision, escape looked miles away. Julian had much time to think things over, and he played back life in his mind. The mockery. The laughter. The teasing. The ridicule. Still, in the end, they all got theirs. Life had some meaning no matter how minute, and it seemed that everyone gets a second chance, including himself; if he were to have killed those last villagers, he would be no more than the dark, malevolent soul he was before he found what he sought his entire life. Explanations to why things were the way they were. But he still retained that burning fire deep in his psyche, something that churns and festers till he cannot contain it anymore. It was like a battle from within, a war between Julian’s sympathetic quality and his deeply burrowed anger and greed nestled deep inside.
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Character Owner | |
Race |
| Gavindale Von Ander | | 1/2 Elf |
Sub Race | |
Class |
| | Rogue |
Prestige Class |
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Character Level (combined) | |
Alignment |
| HIDDEN | |
HIDDEN |
Stats On Julian Manderforth
| This Character has been reviewed 11 times by 7 unique reviewers and has participated in 4 games. (note: we can only count games that have actually been reviewed) [View Owner Stats] |
View comments concerning this character |
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| Character's Role (Check all that apply) |
| Front Line Fighter |
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27% |
| Archer |
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0% |
| Rogue/Scout |
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64% |
| Spellcaster |
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0% |
| Healer |
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0% |
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| Character's Perceived Alignment (Check all that apply) |
| This player has chosen to hide this statistic from you. |
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| Teamwork (Check all that apply) |
| This character was mostly a leader |
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9% |
| This character was a scout |
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9% |
| This character stayed with the group |
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73% |
| This character worked well with the group |
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91% |
| This character inappropriately dominated all conversations |
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9% |
| This character provided valuable ideas to the team |
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64% |
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| Roleplaying (Check all that apply) |
| I learned something new about this character in this session |
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82% |
| This character was too quiet |
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9% |
| This character was a serious character |
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73% |
| This character was a funny character |
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0% |
| This character was an outlandish character |
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0% |
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