To make it easier for you to get into your first game, we have prepared a total of 14 Archetypes for direct use - just pick one of them! Each archetype is provided with an short introduction in narrative form, meant to convey a certain impression of the character. We are certain that there is something for everyone in this listing. Regardless of flavor text, it does not matter whether you play a male or a female hero - all archetypes are suitable for both sexes. You only need to decide on a name, and off you go!
Only those who have a Warrior's Diploma may call themselves "warriors;" all others are simply fighters, or mercenaries. To get such a diploma, you need to graduate from one of Aventuria's warriors' academies. Students usually enter the academy at age 12. They are taught in strategy and tactics, in using most of the standard weapons (and a few of the uncommon ones), and in riding, but also in etiquette and other important elements of everyday life. At the age of 17, they usually leave the academy to fend for themselves. The academies also instill their students with what the most important difference between warrior and mercenary: "Rondra's virtues," such as honor, pride, honesty, and selflessly championing the causes of the weak. Warriors feel committed to these ideals, which sometimes makes them hard to deal with for their fellow adventurers, since not every situation can be solved with bare steel but sometimes needs resorting to trickery more in line with the teachings of Phex. Sometimes, making the warrior see this need is a long and arduous process. However, there are some plans, such as using poison to kill an enemy, that a warrior will never ever condone, regardless how hard you try.
Are you certain you want to parry my sword with this spit? (said to a Horasian noble about to employ a foil)
I want neither gold nor silver for saving your daughter, good woman. Rondra's grace is all the reward I need.
By the beard of King Alrik - I'll have you pay for this, vile knave!
In the name of Rondra!
Burglars are rarely born as such. Often, they hail from one of the more disreputable quarters of town, with no chance of ever being accepted as an apprentice by an honest master craftsman, thus being forced to steal from early on in their lives, simply to survive. However varied their individual backgrounds and life stories may be, all share the same dream: the dream of the "big one" which will finally allow them to settle down, buy a large villa with a view on the sea, retiring from their lives of crime. Until then, even the burglars of the class-conscious Horasian Empire try very hard to bask in the sun of the more refined ways of living which they see every day. As long as they do not actually impede their work, they wear fashionable accessories as easily as the next noble, and cultivating a certain style is almost a must: living the life of an elegant connoisseur is a common way of stressing one's personal style, as is leaving some personal token (for instance, a rose) behind after a heist.
Well, well - what do we have here? Oh, how nice: not really Silasian brass, but a most convincing fake...
Phex be damned! When did they get the dog?
Begging your pardon, noble sir... I must have mistaken the door. No hard feelings, eh?
More often than not, explorers come from a sheltered family background, their parents being most interested in educating their children and allowing them to train in Hesindian studies from an early age. Other explorers are simply wealthy fellows with a passion for exploration and the search for ancient yet obscure treasures. Whatever their motivation, those who want to dedicate their lives to science need one thing above all: lots of spare time which they do not need to make money in. Thus, explorers tend to be rather wealthy people (at least initially...), for otherwise they couldn't spare the money. However, an expensive but unsuccessful expedition may reduce even the richest independent explorer to a pauper. No success on the expedition means no items to sell on the limited antiquities market (not that any explorer worth her salt would sell items of real scientific value, but then again, expenses do have to be met somehow), and is also means a blot on the explorer's reputation, making it so much harder for her to acquire new patrons. Such impoverished explorers often take up the adventuring life by selling their knowledge to patrons of a not-so-scientific bent.
I knew it! I have always known it!
This river flows into the Mysob. Really! I know what I'm saying, trust me on that!
Thorwalians excel at sailing, for their barren country is not very well suited for farming. The bright sails of the dragon ships from the north can be seen on all the seas - and evoke fear everywhere, much to the astonishment of most Thorwalians. True enough, these corsairs of the southern seas indeed make a living by raiding other ships and may thus justifiably be called "pirates," but a Thorwalian would vigorously object to being given the same epithet - after all, they only raid villages of the Horasian whale killers, or ships of the hated slave trades from Al'Anfa. Actually, the Thorwalians sink most of the ships they capture, cargo and all - indicating that the northern roughnecks may indeed be more interested in the statement than the looting.
Landlubbers usually believe that being raided by Thorwalians is like a big, jolly fistfight, and not really a life-threatening event.
Men and women are absolutely equal in Thorwalian society - and equally fearsome in combat. A woman heavy-handedly commanding a ship full of roughnecks fond of boozing is the rule rather than the exception. On the other hand, be sure not to offer a female Thorwalian to be your escort in the evening, what with the dark streets being dangerous and all, since she would surely take offence and hit you... hard.
And then we hit the Horas - hoyehoyehum - and then we hit the Horas - hoyehoyehum - and then we hit the Horas - hoyehoye-um. (refrain of a favorite Thorwalian song; basic decency prevents us from printing the individual stanzas)
I couldn't care less how much you paid for the passage. The owl has just called thrice, there was a spider in the yard, and a seagull circled round the crow's nest exactly seven times - I won't put out today, and that's the end of it!
I say! In Swafnir's name!
Most mountebanks come from families with long traditions in the trade, but sometimes a traveling troupe takes in a young runaway who has fled from strict elders or vengeful teachers. Regardless of their origin, all children have to work for a living, meaning, they have to take part in the performances, being trained early on in fire-eating, tightrope-dancing and other artistic tricks. The lands of the Tulamides are the cradle of the profession of mountebank. The people living there are gay and joyous and are very fond of entertainment - fond enough to pay for it in hard coin even. On the other hand, since quite a lot of Tulamide clans have woodmen blood in their veins, they are of a small and rather athletic build, making them ideally suited for acrobatic feats.
Many troupes of mountebanks have known each other for a very long time. They meet on the streets, happen to stay in the same village, or refresh their bonds of friendship while attending the annual convention at Kunchom. News are exchanged freely on such occasions: who has married who, who has died, who has been graced with offspring. However, the mountebanks also tell of the lands they have visited, and many a mountebank is actually much better informed about current events throughout Aventuria than are most other people on the continent. Mountebanks are sharp of tongue and wit, and they delight in telling jokes at other people's expense. Mountebanks are notoriously superstitious, and reliability is certainly not their strongest suit.
... the people there are so stingy, you wouldn't believe it! Even if Rahja herself were dancing there stark naked, they wouldn't offer her more than two kreutzers!
Let's have a big hand for Hamud, the strongest man in the world! And now to something even more astonishing, much more so, something you've never seen before: Mirhiban's miraculous wonder drops, only here, and only for 1 silver per bottle...
I have performed in front of emperors and kings!
Anvil Dwarfs love to fight. At least, they are counted as the most warlike of all the peoples of the Angroshim. Since they do not shy away from contact with humans, most non-dwarfs simply equate "anvil dwarf" with "dwarf" in general - and as far as humans are concerned, a "real dwarf" has to bear axe, crossbow, and chain mail shirt, has to be able to hold his liquor well, and has to be "blessed" with a ... particular body odor. Thus, it comes natural for anvil dwarfs to combine business and pleasure by complying to human clichés, at least as long as they are outside their tunnels and delves. Many an anvil dwarf has taken up soldiering. For "a few dozen years," they travel around the world and hope to one day return to their underground halls covered in scars as well as glory. Dwarfs are highly sought-after as mercenaries; they are regarded as tough, enduring, and reliant. Sometimes, just the rumor of the opposing side employing dwarfs has been enough to prevent an entire force from attacking.
This is no "underground tunnel," Misses Elf, but a slanting adit hewn with a gentle slope, if you get my meaning.
You call this a sword? By Angrosh! In our halls, even the children forge knifes that are sharper than this piece of scrap!
Very well then, I'll go alone..
Norbad Travelling Merchant
She was born somewhere in the steppes in between Norcastle and Riva, her first word was "Kalesh" and she was able to drive a six-horse carriage across a narrow pass road before she had grown old enough to mount the coach box on her own. From early in her childhood, the Norbard has learned everything she needs to subsist as a trader in the lonely vastness which is the Aventurian north. She learned to calculate as well as to track, and she was taught which mushrooms and berries to eat and which to avoid. First of all, however, she has understood one thing: that everybody, even she herself, might get into trouble in the rough wilderness of the north sooner or later, needing help from others. Thus she would never even think of rejecting a plea of help. And yet is she by no means altruistic: to her, trade is everything and everything is trade; each and every service requires some kind of compensation. If the Norbard has helped someone, she will indeed remember and come back to collect a favor - even decades later, if need be.
Well, little brother, ever seen something as beautiful as this?
Buy, little mother, buy! We will not cheat you the way the Orgalyevs do.
I hurt my head on a low ceiling, but never on the open sky.
Novadi Carawan Guide
Throughout Aventuria, the great wilderness is one of the most dangerous places for the unwary traveler. However, nowhere - well, let alone the Eternal Ice and the jungles of Maraskan - is this wilderness as inimical to life as it is in the Khôm Desert. During the day, the sun burns from the sky without mercy, and the nights are colder than Ifirn's Ocean. If you do not travel with a large group where everyone will stand by the others, and if you have not hired a native guide, you will surely be lost unless the gods really smile on you.
Nobody knows the dangers of the desert better than the Novadi. He has been brought up in its endless vastness and knows some regions of it as well as the pockets of his silham. He is indispensable as a guide to all those numerous caravans connecting the southern Fairfield and Almada with each other as well as, via the central junction of Keft, with Mhanadistan and the lands of the Tulamides. Not only does he know how to survive in the desert, but he is also acquainted with the ways of the many clans of desert nomads - and he knows where to find the life-saving water holes.
Nothing is ever as it seems. More people have drowned in the desert than have died of thirst.
By Rastullah's magnificent curls!
I have sinned and ask for forgiveness.
In a metropolis such as Kuslik or Vinsalt, there is not much that children of poor parents may expect from life. Without any kind of education, the best you can do is find a job in one of the manufactories. However, Horasian society, being dominated by masks and appearances as it is, literally invites resourceful spirits to discreetly hide their origins and their (usually low) wealth. For she who is able to pass herself off as a woman of noble standing, to dress and act the part, will hardly ever be troubled by questions as to her parentage - and nary a person has been able to memorize all of the lineages of Yaquiria, making it easier to distract them with a well conceived lie.
Not everything that glitters is actually valuable - but you will always find someone who thinks it is.
Everybody could be Empress. It's just a matter of clothes.
Who feeds his pet more food in one single week than I get to eat in an entire year, really has it in for being fleeced by me.
Please allow me to introduce myself...
Goblin Rat Catcher
The citizens of Festum have long since learned that the goblins are able, and willing, to play their part in making life in the city work as smoothly as possible. What's more, they are actually willing to do those jobs humans usually feel above doing. Thus, they have been charged not only with cleaning the streets, but also with the privilege of hunting rats for money. Several dozen goblins make quite a living of this.
The goblin rat catcher does not actually go about his business because he is fond of it. Rather, he is motivated by the knowledge that nobody but him can perform this task with the necessary passion. This does not mean that the goblin hates or envies the human population of the wealthier quarters of the city, though - he knows fully well that they also serve important functions in the city's infrastructure. However, he deeply despises beggars and other parasites of society.
Never feel above someone who is smaller than you, unless you haven't caught your first rat single-handedly!
Why of course I don't know nothing 'bout this! Why do you think we brought you?
Rats never lie!
Out there, in the gutter, you wouldn't even catch a rat's tail, let alone survive even one single day. So sit back and let me do my job.
The art of hawking, of chasing rabbits and wildfowl with trained raptors, has its origins in the Land of the First Sun. The Tulamides perfected this art as early as in the last stages of the Diamond Sultanate. After the Fall of Bosparan, it has also found its way into the Fairfield and some parts of the Middenrealm, especially Almada. Today, however, Arania is regarded as the center of hawking, where falconry is viewed as the most noble form of hunting. While the nobility take great pains to retain their privileges of hunting, they have put the education of their birds into the hands of talented falconers. These experts take care of the selection of suitable animals, accompanying them of the long and arduous way from inexperienced young birds right to their final place on a noble's glove. However, the falconers' art is held in such high esteem, and their "charges" in such high demand, that they are always welcome at court and have access to even the most noble of circles - and not only as companions of the hunt.
The time to unhood her has come.
Do you trust me? Then loosen my bonds!
He went hunting without the reward. ("Reward" is the falconer's term used for the piece of meat intended to lure the falcon back to the glove. - The saying refers to somebody who has not fully considered his actions.)
To be a swordfellow is more than simply setting out and killing humans or monsters on orders, for money or out of plain necessity - it is a form of art, a noble craft, and an exalted way of living all rolled into one. Without the divine spark of inspiration, combat becomes a mere game of chance, without the tricks and knacks of the ancient masters it is reduced to no more than hack and slay, and without style there would be no point to combat whatsoever - for what else is one to fight for, if not for culture, morals, and tradition?
A swordfellow regards herself as a modern-day successor to the knights of old, except that instead of fighting for her liege and the Twelfgods, she is fighting for the universal concepts of honor and culture, those concepts separating man from beast (and ogre, come to think of it). It goes without saying that protecting the weak and thwarting the intrigues of the inhabitants of the Netherhells is part of all this.
Does he want to be buried by Punin or Alanfan rite, knave?
In close quarters, the short sword is so much superior to the saber as well as the dagger. Come, let me show you...
For Efferd, Queen, and honor!
The home of the Gjalskerlandians are rough highlands situated in between the Brinask Marches and the Olport Chalk Cliffs. Here, in one of the wildest patches of land you may find on the Ethra, there is neither track nor path, and next to everybody is in need of a scout.
The scout has learned from an early age to find her way around here. Whenever heavy fog completely covers the land, she is able to find the windward side by looking at the mossy part of the birch trees' trunks. By listening to the cries of the birds she is able to tell sneaking orcs from a Gjalskerlandian hunting troop from clueless Middenrealmians. On her lonely travels through the wilderness, she constantly needs to be wary of unpleasant surprises, always ready to defend herself with her trusted weapons. Since she knows how important trust and reliability are for the survival of the whole community, she would never break her word.
I don't sully my weapons with the blood of someone not true to his word. If I catch him, I'll drown him in the swamp.
How do I know that this wolf is male? Well, he stands on three legs while peeing.
(Said to a Fairfieldian:) Here, take this axe in case you need to defend yourself.That metal rod you inherited from your father might make a good fishing rod, but that's about it.
Oijaniha Tribal Warrior
The silence and agility of a woodman's movements are the result of years of practice and experience, going back to games of hide and sneak in earliest childhood. He knows all the plants of the jungle and the habits of all the animals. He knows how to imitate their voices and his finely tuned hearing allows him to tell the cry of an ape from the mimicry of that cry made by a yakosh-dey. As a warrior, he was trained in the laws of the tribe and he knows all the taboos. He would rather die than break one of these taboos, regardless of how far away from home he may be.
The tribal warrior is especially fond of courage and valor. The Oijaniha has no qualms of sneaking up to a superior enemy, killing him from behind. So his sneaking skill was better than his enemy's abilities of detection - why should such a contest be dishonorable?
Why does the frog dare to croak at the panther?
You have beautiful teeth and a straight nose, paleskin, which pleases me: your tsantsa* will soon grace my belt. (* shrunken head)
The yakosh-dey capture Oijaniha women because their own women are uglier still then wart toads.