Rocelin Ellis/Centoraurian/Knight

Name: Rocelin Ellis

Gender: Male.
Age: 24
Race: Human
Tribe: Centoraurian

Occupation
Rocelin prefers to work using the skills he developed as a soldier. Positions he prefers vary from mercenary to guard to constabulary. If he can travel as part of his work it is best. He also participates in tournaments hoping to procure the purse and thus raise funds that way.

Title Knight of Life's Despair

Character Portrait

Overview
Scholars argue over the exact characteristics of Etherus. What they do agree upon is that excess is this God’s domain. In many ways Rocelin Ellis would than be an excellent human example of this deity. Handsome and charismatic the young knight should have enjoyed a privileged upbringing and have developed into a man of strong character who displays pride in himself and his accomplishment. In stark Contrast he dislikes himself strongly blaming himself for events he had no control over and dismissing the talents and skills he possesses. Trying to gain his fathers approval and love has driven him to obsess about nearly every aspect of his life striving for perfection and yet not quite meeting it. After the death of his mother, the loss of his love to his father and the death of Roger his brother Rocelin has tried to drown his misery in alcohol and replace his need for love and acceptance with women. Neither of these is too successful. Each time he indulges in either the guilt and remorse that follows drives him to act out again forcing him further down the road of destruction and despair. Now self exiled from his homeland he searches for a way to overcome his weaknesses, to win the approval of his father and learn to love himself.

“This lone God of Fire.
He the voice of seduction
And Lord of all desire
Wears His many faces fair.
Each more beautiful then the last
But who can trust the God of Lust
Or pay the price He asks?”
Dar'Seideous

Taken from the entry concerning Etherus the Fire God of Excess.

Appearance
Height 1 ped, 2 fores, 6 nailsbreadths.
Weight 1 pygge, 3 hebs, 2 ods, 4 mut.
Hair Colour: A resilient nor’sidian highlighted with lighter shades of charcoal
Eye Colour Uderza with speckles of cerubell and sou’cald blue

Physical Appearance
Rocelin bears the marks of his tribesmen. With hair as dark as raven feathers and eyes uderza his fits the stereotypical Centoraurian. He possesses a strong chin and features that many of his countrymen’s ladies find appealing. The soldier possesses a strong physique with sinewy muscles. His complexion is that of nearly a porcelain town though reddened from the suns rays. His hair is worn combed back behind his ears naturally parting in the middle. It runs downward to his shoulders in wavy locks softening any of his harsher features. Standing 1 Ped, 2 Fores, 6 Nailsbreadths his height is that of others of his tribe. Even the weight of 1 Pygge, 3 hebs, 2 ods and 4 Mut does not vary from making him the perfect Centoraurian, that is in his own estimation.

In contrast to his otherwise flawless physical appearance Rocelin has a scar that runs nearly horizontally along his left side at about the level of his fourth rib. It is quite obvious and so makes him rather identifiable.

Clothing
Being particular about his appearance, Rocelin dresses appropriately for every occasion. For everyday purposes that require casual dress he wears a crisp, clean snowy white cotton blouse with sleeves that come about a palmspan from his elbows. Around the neck the fabric is rounded and lays flat against his chest than gradually plumes out slightly closer to the waist. It tucks in neatly to a kilt most often made from a fine that reaches only nailsbreadths or two above his knees. Over these is a set of leather armor designed specifically for him. The upper is a jacket created using well-tanned and highly tailored cow leather. The two main portions are sewn together over the shoulders and are tan pulled together by belt-like straps on the sides. The front portion overlays the rear portion by no more than a nailsbreath. The nor’sidian dyed leather has been padded and underlined with supple deer hide that has also been tanned and died the same dark shade. Between them is a cotton padding that that is used both to add dimension to the armor and also to enhance its protective qualities. Embossed into the front surface is the large form of a stylized unicorn raised up on its hind legs. The creature more resembles the Centoruarian horse than they mythical creature with a proportionally sized horn protruding from its head. This is raised slightly higher with the padding than the surrounding area. Steel studs outline the creature and also form a repetitive pattern of diamond shaped squares. Curving gracefully around the neck, the armor appears much like a breastplate. Beneath upper armor is a leather kilt made from several tailored sections. Straps to the upper portion fasten this leather armor. Over his shoulders are well-shaped pieces of leather that drape downward in studded strips to about the length if the tunic sleeves. On his feet are fine nor’sidian leather riding boot that rise to a height just below his knees. Often he will add a thick hooded dark mottled charcoal fabric cloak with two large pockets on the interior.

When not expecting violence but he is aware there is danger. Rocelin will wear his fine quality and tailored chainmail with hooded coif. Beneath this metal armor he will wear a padded tunic and britches made from soft charcoal cotton fabric. The chainmail tunic falls down nearly to his knees and the sleeves reach his wrist. For his legs he wears chain chauses. These are like the leg portions of pants that fasten with a strap to a leather belt worn under the tunic and around his waist. These also fit over his riding boots providing a smooth appearance and protection.

Only when Rocelin plans to battle does he wear his platemail. This is a full suit of high quality metal armor fitted specifically to him. Of particular interest is his sugar loaf helm. The top rises gracefully to a conical point. Protruding from the top is a length of horsehair that rolls down the back of the helm about two palmspans. Made from high quality steel it is decorated with golden peach fyrite plating forming a complicated etched motif of vines and leaves. The front portion of the helm is about three nailsbreadths longer than the rear to help protect the neck. Also of note is the breastplate of steel and etched with the same unicorn figure as found on his leather armor. Around it is a matching motif found on the helm. The unicorn and the pattern that follows around the neck portion are also coated in the same coloured fyrite. This same etching and fyrite can be found on various portions of his armor as well unifying the look.

Over either chain or plate he will wear on of his two tunics. Each is made from fine cotton cloth and comes down to the level that the kilt he is accustom to wearing ends. One is a deep nor’sidian while the other is a deep karikrimson. It has boarder around the neck, arm openings and bottom hem two nailsbreadths wide of korwyn gold. This is of the same motif as found on his armor. In the center is a finely embroidered white unicorn with a korwyn horn. The creature resembles more of a horse his countrymen are famous for breeding than the mythical creature raised on its hind legs.

Personality
Rocelin is an individual of extremes. Though he is much the product of his ways of his countrymen he also personifies an exaggeration of the qualities. In speech he is tort. Few words escape his lips unless he has a purpose for them. If a question can in any way be answered with a yes or no this is the only response one is likely to receive. If it cannot be answered in such a sort and somewhat blunt sounding way he will try to get across what needs to be conveyed in as few words as possible. Praise, especially to males is extremely rare though he will acknowledge there presence with an nod or even a simple greeting it is rare for him to say anything about ones dress or appearance. If he is to make any form of what might be considered small talk it would be about horses or the arts of warfare. Speaking about his family is a touchy subject as relations between himself, his father and his siblings is strained. Women have a better a considerably easier time to get him to talk though without the inhibition lifting of effects of alcohol they too may find his speech a little to curt.

Much like the majority of his tribe Rocelin is stoic and will seldom utter a word regarding and pain or discomfort he might feel. The soldier would rather suffer in agony alone than admit to a weakness. Hardships are nothing new to the traveling knight. Even though he comes from a prestigious family he has know his failures and losses. These have shaped the normal melancholy of the Centoraurian way of life into a more pessimistic approach to looking at the world. What speech he does utter is often reeks of cynicism and can be cutting and belittling especially of him. He will downplay any accomplishments, even deny their very existence, if he things someone might get the idea he is worthy of their time.

The loss of a love interest was devastating to Rocelin. What made it worse was that it was to one of his father. This was due to the woman’s father more than to her choice. This event sent him into a depression that he might have overcome had it not been for the death of his mother. Rocelin began on an emotional downhill spiral. With her influence in his life his moods were less dark and his thought less morose. His struggles with drunkenness, brawling and womanizing all surfaces shortly after her passing and became even worse after the death of his brother. The response of his father hand his brothers to these contributed greatly as well. His father blamed him for Roger’s death in battle stating Rocelin should have died instead. His brothers shared the same attitudes. Their shunning and blame forced the knight to decide to leave home even though doing so would mean leaving behind the world he knew.

Strengths and Weaknesses
Strengths:

Swordsmanship: Trained as a knight in Centoraurian heavy Cavalry, Rocelin is an exceptionally gifted with the use of the calvary sabre and the broadsword. Countless hours of training and the actual use of these weapons in combat have honed his skills into dance like precision and grace. From an early age Rocelin began practicing in earnest with the sword. Beginning with his brothers than as a page and squire the knight has improved these skills. The majority of the time he will elect to use the saber as he bears down on his adversaries on horseback. When dismounted, being a hand and a half weapon, he often will choose the broadsword and wield it either single or double handed.

Horsemanship: As a Centoraurian riding these magnificent animals is almost second nature. From an early age he has been on a horse and has a deep affection for he animals. He prefers to fight mounted charging at great speed into the ranks of the enemy. Though it is customary for the women to take care of the horses in his homeland Rocelin has learned to perform these tasks himself.

Charisma Rocelin has that rare ability to attract people to himself. His handsome and noble bearing aids in this though there is something deeper. He has developed the knack of well placed words and the ability to gauge the feelings of others allowing him to react accordingly. The knight enjoys using this on women especially with varying degrees of success. Though in resent years this ability has been impeded by his pessimistic and often defeatist outlook it is still present.

Physical Appearance not everyone can be good looking and by some accident of birth Rocelin has been blessed with more than his share. Some have compared his noble countenance and all around handsome appearance to that of an elf though he is definitely human. This does help to open doors though it also may draw the wrong kind of attention. Heads have a tendency to tern when he enters a room for instance and many linger gazing at his pleasant looks. Others actually take offense to it and his obsessively neat appearance thinking he is trying to outdo other people. This is actually not his intent especially since he has such a low opinion of himself.

Literacy: The ability to read and write is a skill Rocelin acquired as a page and improved on serving as a squire. The knight has a beautiful script writing that is rather legible and admired by those who see it. His ability to read although not nearly as developed as a scholar is more than adequate for the intents and purpose of being a knight.

Weaknesses:

Depression/Remorse: Rocelin suffers from feelings of worthlessness, self hatred and loathing. Stemming from his fathers repeated failures to connect with him as a child he has come to believe that he is somehow unlovable and inferior to others. This has been reinforced by the attitudes of his brothers especially after he was knighted and the death of his mother.

Further instilling his self-debasement is the loss of Abigail Braggsby, a love interest to his father. She was to be betrothed to him but instead chose stability, comfort and prestige over her love for Rocelin.

The death of Roger, his brother, has also contributed. During the siege of a keep his brother was killed. His father and his remaining brothers blames him for this and Rocelin believes it is true as well though in actuality he had no control over the situation.

Sarcasm: This is something that comes straight from his heritage. For his tribesmen sarcasm is, well, an art. Sometimes his pessimistic, sarcastic humor will get him into trouble, especially when a bottle is in his hand.

Womanizing/Lechery: From almost the time Rocelin noticed the beauty of the opposite gender he has pursued them relentlessly. Sometimes his advances are less than subtle. He has found himself more times than he would like to recount being thrown out of an establishment or even drawn into a confrontation. It is the conquest, the challenge that drives him to this behavior, at least that is what he will admit to. The real motive is two fold. With the death of his mother and the loss of his love to his father Rocelin tries to cope with his feelings of being unloved by having relationships with women. He also does not feel worthy of a woman or of having a stable and lasting relationship. He fears that if they really get to know him they will not be interested. So he pursues a rather lecherous lifestyle fulfilling his own prophetic thoughts and furthering the downward cycle of acting out his desire and than feeling guilty for his actions thus adding for the need to try and fill the voids in his life only to feel even more shame and guilt.

Alcoholism: His consumption of alcohol only exacerbates his problems. While the spirits may temporarily give him a better outlook they also lower his inhibitions making him more likely to womanize or otherwise find a way act out. It is not that he cannot drink an ale or two but he often will not stop there. Often he will add to this harder spirits such as leithe, mel’no fire and even stronger beverages. The more he drinks the more susceptible to suggestion he becomes.

Fear of Water: Thanks to a prank pulled by his brothers when he was about five years old Rocelin nearly drowned. Ever since then he has been afraid of being submerged in water. Wading in small streams or crossing over sturdy bridges are not such a problem but getting him into a boat or across a narrow bridge is nearly impossible. In spite of his efforts to control his fears he Rocelin wish sweat and shake uncontrollably at the mere thought of having to enter into water that he might have to swim in.

Obsession/Compulsion: For Rocelin this is really a problem. In his efforts to win the approval, acceptance, praise and love of his father he learned that only being the absolute best and whatever he did was acceptable. This drive succeed has caused him to be obsessive about many areas of his life. From training to appearance and the upkeep of his belongings, they are all done with compulsive need to be the best.

Pessimism: Believing he is now unworthy of his family or position, Rocelin feel inadequate and that nothing will ever be even acceptable or adequate. This is exacerbated by feelings of guilt and remorse for the death of his brother, his undignified behavior with women and his drinking.

History

“As Cute as a Little Pompion."

Being born into nobility is no guarantee of happiness. Rocelin Ellis would be the first to admit this statement was true. Sir Bayard Ellis, Rocelin’s father, was an important man. As commander of the forces guarding the land approach on the South through the Aurora Fields to the magnificent city of Milkengrad. For generations the Ellis family had held high positions in the Military. Many of his ancestors contributed to the safety and stability of the government and the areas where they resided in both the. Taking positions as offered by the higher nobility and ruling factions the Ellis name became widely known through both the Vardýnn and Xaramon Provinces. They had been given large tracks of land, titles and privilege that Bayard took full advantage of. Having served as part of the mounted forces in the heavy infantry he wanted all of his children to serve as he had, on a magnificent steed with sword in hand. This would insure their citizenship and their continued wealth and privilege. His home was a comfortable nobleman’s estate with a large home, stables to house the many horses possessed by the family and areas set aside for training in the arts of war. The home boasted many servants to perform the tasks that would otherwise occupy the time of the family. From its slightly elevated position on the rolling grassy planes one could see the grandness of the city and the sprawling grasslands and farms that occupied the planes. One could also see a small but well walled fortification known as the Ageron Keep which Bayard was in particular responsible for.

When Rocelin arrived on the fourth day of the month Singing Bird, Alé'veván in the language of the elves, Bayard was disappointed. Having six sons already he had hoped for a daughter. Besides having another woman around the house it would open up opportunities for marital ties that another son could not offer. She would have been pampered and spoiled. As it was though there would be no special consideration made for the last of the Ellis males. This was more than a mere disappointment as with six sons it would be hard enough to divvy up what inheritance would remained once he passed on. Besides, being born on the month dedicated to the god of excess certainly could not be a good sign for a warrior.

His mother, Gloriana, was hoping for a girl as well. Being the only female of the family was a lonely life alone most of the time in her comfortable home. With her children mostly gone and Bayard seemingly always involved in some sort of important business living in such a large place with only the servants she was forced to occupy herself with the mundane tasks of running the household. Having a girl to keep her company would have been a blessing, but once she saw the boy all disappointment vanished. Even at birth Rocelin had a full head of nor’sidian hair and eyes of the deepest Uderza. These pulled at the heartstrings of his mother causing her to forget her previous desires.

As he grew it was quite apparent though how much favoritism Bayard had towards his other sons. In his own way he poured praise on his other sons virtually ignoring the youngest. Rocelin was quick to notice this. He felt rejected and unloved by his father and just as quickly learned he had to dominate in whatever he did or he would never receive any praise or attention from his knighted father. Anything in between greatness in an area or extreme failure would not even register in is father’s eyes. If the former happened he would receive a modest nod of approval but if it were the other way around there were consequences. These generally took the form of shunning, abusive words spoken in public to humiliate and even floggings. More times than he could count Rocelin had received a beating harsh enough to break his young skin. Even more frequently he had stood rigidly hearing the demeaning words of his father with a stoic face.

From this he learned to be excessive in everything he did. He would try over and over again often until some part of him was either bruised or bleeding from his attempts. This would continue until he had performed it perfectly, than he would keep doing it just for to ensure he had it down. Once he was sure he had reached a degree of proficiency he would try to arrange so his father could witness his attempts hoping the endeavor might earn him a word of praise. More often than not his efforts were in vain. Often his plans would be foiled by other pressing obligations and so his father would not arrive at a convenient time or he was just too busy to spare even a moment for young Rocelin.

Fendrel, Roger, Joseph, Edmond, Frederic and Bryce, his brothers, were all older than him. Fendrel, the oldest, was a good 16 years his senior and the others all followed his lead in regards to how they treated Rocelin. They each contributed to his upbringing in positive ways by offering helpful advice and acting as sparring partners for everything from wrestling matches to swordplay. This gave the lad a striking advantage over others his age and thus when there was any sort of competition Rocelin usually came out on top. Yet they were not always as nice as they could be.

One day in Rocelin’s fifth year Edmond and Joseph decided to play a trick on their little brother. It was in the month of the Rising Sun and Rocelin was all excited. Bayard had decided to take his family on a trip to see Milkengrad. While on their way they stopped beside the Golden Bridge. Rocelin strayed a little from his family curious about the water and what might be inside. He looked on the reflective surface studying his reflection and trying to see what fish he could. As he did Edmond and Joseph pushed their brother into the cool water. They held him down while the poor lad struggled to get free. Finally they released him when he had stopped moving. The pulled him up from the water but Rocelin was unmoving. His eyes were glazed and he was not breathing. Quickly the two older brothers called for Fendrel and after what seemed an eternity to the trio their little brother began breathing again. Rocelin has never liked water since then. Even crossing a bridge is a stressful activity if he can see over the sides. Swimming is a petrifying idea though in a shallow stream or edge of a lake with effort he can bath as long as he remains standing.

“A Sinkel's Tale”

For his sixth birthday Gloriana arranged for him to visit her brother Sir Donald Caen. The uncle’s property was located on the Aurora Plains and bordered a forest, one Rocelin had never seen before, a small eerie one known as the Phantom Eyes Forest. The boy had heard the stories about the place. Tales of a phantom’s red eyes that glow in the darkened woods had been told him from his earliest years and now with the forest so near he could not resist. These orbs, they had told him, belonged to a woman that protected the forest and prevented any with weapons from entering. Being curious and without his brothers he ventured in trying to find the red eyes. A strange fog began to settle in and the boy thought he saw the red points of light that he had heard so much about. Farther and farther he traveled into the forests confines trying to follow the phantom. He imagined seeing the form of a woman as they passed through the grey mist. Eventually he found a small grove with old gravestones. This was enough to really rattle the poor chilled yet he held his ground, after all what would his father, he brothers think if they heard he was scared of a ghost. He sat down by the trunk of a tree letting his backrest against the mossy surface. In the morning when he woke up he began to leave the woods afraid more of what his uncle would say than of any phantom.

When asked he admitted to entering the woods and told about find the graveyard. This was all that was needed to start the rumors flying that he had seen the woman of the forest. Everyone wanted to hear is story and the tale became more and more embellished. There was no punishment for him but in fact he taken to the garrison where the Phantom Eyes Knights were stationed. He told his story and he had the men eagerly eating out of his preverbal hands. They had seemed to believe his tale though behind the boy’s back they found the story more than a little amusing.

Upon his arrival at home his father and his brothers all found the tail more than a little humorous. Perhaps there was a hint of jealousy too as they all had received their tern to visit their mother’s brother and see the forest. None of them had dared to enter the misty wooded place and to be outdone by the young upstart started even more sarcastic remarks.

"Never Underestimate the Horned Wolf With a Silver Ridge."

Rocelin was just as eager as his father to begin his training as a knight. At the early age of seven he was taken to Lord Edward Fairbairn. For the young lad every day was an adventure. He learned how to ride a horse, something he had been doing for at least a year already. This, however, was consistent and important training if he was to become a worthy knight. Swordsmanship was also taught and even though he had played with wooden models of the deadly instruments he was learning even more than the bits his brothers would teach him. Archery was also part of the training though Rocelin did not excel in this as he did with the use of swords. Not all was training though. In return for such services he had to perform other duties around the Lord’s castle. He also had to learn respect and decorum so very vital to a young knights success.

The lad missed his mother. She had always been an encouragement to him and a buffer between him and his father. Gloriana would comfort him after an unusually cruel bout with his brothers and assure him that someday he would be a great man. Even with his homesickness he stayed on proving to be a worthy student for the knighthood. At the end of his fourth year Lord Fairbain reported to his father that, “had the boy not had a father already he would adopt him as his own.” This was high praise though his father never mentioned it to his Rocelin, only to his brother and his mother Questioning if the Lord was loosing his mind.

Being a page was only the official beginning of Rocelin’s training. After four years under the tutelage of Lord Fairbain and the warriors that worked with him he would on to being a squire. The thought of becoming the squire to a night excited the young lad though he dare not show it. His father forbade the lad from showing such expressions and so Rocelin did his best to contain himself. To make matters worse he received an invitation to take part in an event that if he did well should make his father proud.

Spring was coming and on the day of Elenear, Rocelin was to take part in tournament. This was no ordinary tournament but one designed for aspiring warrior rather than those who had already established themselves. Lord Fairbain who was hosting the event had to do some convincing to get Bayard to allow his son to participate. Eventually permission was granted though with much reluctance. It was not that the father felt Rocelin might be injured, rather that his son might embarrass him. To prevent this he had his other sons put the lad into training. This they did willingly and to their surprise Rocelin was far better than they had expected. The years of training showed through as the boy road his mount and wielded his weapons.

Finally the day arrived and rocelin was ready. Not wanting to spoil his youngest son with a new set of leather, his father had a set once worn by Bryce fitted to Rocelin. Unlike Rocelin, Bryce was not known for his meticulous care of things. Though the armor was quite usable there were aesthetic issues that bothered the young lad. Tiny cracks from the lack of general care had begun to appear on the surface and tiny bits of rust blemished the appearance of the iron studs. Other than minor wear markings the leather tunic and kilt were nearly indistinguishable for the other lads new armor, after the many hours Rocelin had put into improving their appearance that is. He insisted on a new haircut and was ever watchful to insure his riding boots were as pristine as possible.

In spite of a mediocre showing in the archery contest the lad surpassed any expectations, even those of Lord Fairbain. Winning all other contests he entered the young warrior demonstrated his prowess as a fighter and how quickly he learned even some more advanced techniques. For winning the tournament Rocelin received a handsome purse full of nunes. His father said nothing, only offering a nod and a faint smile though it seemed to pain the man to give it. As had become customary for the lad’s mother she tried to reassure him, “Rocelin,” she said, “you are not as strong as Roger or tall as Edmond but you are the handsome one.” For a boy bent on gaining his fathers approval and striving to be recognized for something the words offered some comfort though they were no substitute for the love of a father. The coins however were tucked away at the advice of his mother to be used once he grew up enough to purchase his own suit of armor.

In a few short weeks Rocelin began his training as a Squire. From the moment he met Sir Edmond Gifford he knew his world was about to change. He was a far different man than either his father or his brothers. The man was able to show more spontaneity and far more engaging of the lad. He would include him in conversations rather than ignore him and chose words that did not belittle him when he made mistakes.

Rocelin blossomed under the eye of Gifford. He began to smile more and enjoy his life. Travel became a much greater part of his experience as well. Even with the training offered by as a page he had not moved about the world as he did now. He accompanied the knight into cities and towns all over the Vardýnn Province leaning much about how to interact with members of society. Training expanded beyond the mere use of weapons to strategy. Rocelin learned about how to negotiate and conduct siege warfare. Now he would learn even more about fighting without a mount as well. He learned how to use a battering ram and other siege weaponry. Climbing went from a childhood play activity to serious adult necessity. This he did quite well much to the surprise and approval of the knight he served. The young page leaned more about caring for his weapons and armor. These were skills he already possessed as he performed these tasks for his brothers and his father but with the knights tutelage he was able to understand better methods. The knight he served gave the squire a chain tunic and had it fitted to suit his growing frame. He also insured he had a blue tunic sporting a white horse head under crossed sabres.

Gifford noticed how serious the lad was even when allowed his own time. How driven he was to prove himself. This pleased him but also concerned him. He noticed the compulsive nature and the obsessive drive that seemed to overwhelm the squire. He began trying to get the lad to lighten up a bit taking him to taverns and other places hoping Rocelin would relax. The lad took everything in like a sponge but filed to absorb the need for spontaneity. Tournaments became a regular part of Rocelin’s life. Traveling from one to another to display his abilities and learn from each experience. He did exceptionally well leaving favorable impressions on those who observed. Quite often he would win the events building up his confidence, bolstering his self-esteem and making his purse that much heavier. Young ladies also took notice of this and his maturing frame letting there eyes linger on the young lad. Griffon was quick to point this out. He enjoyed making the lad blush but also hoped that realizing he was desirable to woman would help lift his spirits. Even with his accomplishments there was still little praise from his father. It was as if the lad was virtually invisible. Caught up in the affairs of his occupation, Bayard and his brothers became more aloof as they realized Rocelin was far more skilled at his young age than they were.

Skirmishes with groups of renegades were not uncommon. At first Rocelin was merely a spectator assisting the Gifford. He learned much as he watched the battles from a safer distance. As young as eleven though he was entering the fray as more than an armor bearer and banner holder. For short periods of time building up his endurance and teaching him valuable lessons necessary for any knight. By the time he was thirteen this was a common occurrence and the time spent in each battle lengthened until he would participate in the actual fight to its completion.

Just after his fourteenth birthday Rocelin was summoned with Sir Gifford to add assistance. North of the town of Thyslan in the Aurora Fields was an ongoing struggle against a group of renegades that had managed to take up residence causing problems with transport of goods and hastening of travelers. According to reports ransoms were being asked for captured individuals and fields had been set on fire if those that plowed them did not pay their price. When the word came the young squire thought little about the news but gauging by the expression of the knight’s face he soon became suspicious that this was far more than a minor dispute. Even from a distance Rocelin could see the buildup of troupes, display of will and intent. Banners waved in the brisk morning air and horsemen were beginning to position themselves for the coming battle. Within the hour the squire and his knight were embroiled in a struggle unlike anything Rocelin had yet to experience. It was the second hour of Daybreak and the fog was still lifting from the rolling grassy planes. It gave the battlefield an eerie feeling. Some of the men had taken refuge by building earthen fortifications from which they could launch their arrows at the opposing fortress that had come to see their demise. Being in a heightened position and behind rocks and boulders they were protected from a frontal assault from the horseback men. He volunteered to join a small group to attack from the west using the natural terrain and the cover of the grey fog to approach the group. Gifford was with him as were three others. They dismounted from their horses and tried to sneak in undetected. The three other warriors used their bows to provide cover for Rocelin and Griffen as the pair moved in through the tall grass towards the earthen fortifications. The squire could hear the swishing of the arrows above them as he moved closer to the objective. Climbing up the dirt approach, he and Griffen finally bolted over the earthen wall much to the surprise of those within. Between the five men sent to subdue the archers, all eight lay in crumpled heaps with the enclosure. Griffen took a teki coloured banner and waved it above the ramparts. This was the signal that they had taken control of the position. Shortly thereafter others came to relieve them letting the pair return to their horses. Now mounted the pair assaulted the remaining men letting there swords strike at their opponents flesh.

When Rocelin and Gifford withdrew the sun had already passed its mid point and was beginning to lower itself. Daywane had begun and the darkening sky indicated a storm was quickly approaching. The pair rested and Rocelin served his knight a quick meal before returning to the front lines. Other than a few scrapes and bruising the lad was doing well. He was feeling the fatigue from the hours of battling but overall he was holding his own. Fighting these bandets was much harder than he had expected. Most of those he had dealt with before had not been well trained or armed as these. In spite of these things his strenuous training had prepared him for the experience. The battle was at a standoff with each side suffered casualties and the wounded took their places around them at the relatively protected location they were at. The noise of the battle rang through the air mingled with the wails of the wounded and dying. Streaks from burning arrows that lit up the sky before crashing into the grassy fields beneath. Portions were already burning and the smoke burnt Rocelin’s nostrils.

They returned to the battle about the fourth hour of Daywane heading into the fray Rocelin hoped to make a difference in the battles outcome and it seemed that there was a decreasing number of adversaries from which he could select to charge. Daywane gave way to Grayshade and heavy rain began to cover the sky above him. The battlefield became muddy and difficult for the horses to maintain a proper footing. Mud slopped about as water mixed with loosened soil causing some of the horses and solders to loose their footing. The smoke settled closer to the ground making it even harder to see the enemy. Even in these conditioned the resilient and persistent renegades would not yield. By the second hour of Gurardorans the exhausted scribe withdrew hoping to find rest and food to fill his now grumbling belly. As he entered the encircled area where the resting and wounded were he heard a shout rise up from among them. In surprise and confusion he thought they were cheering for him, a now filthy, sweaty and physically drained squire. Rocelin sat a little taller until he heard a peal of laughter. The cheer was not intended for him at all but for the retreating lines and the capture of their leader. He tried not to look too embarressed as he Sheepishly dismounted red faced and embarrassed. The lad hoped the darkness lit only by the fires, had hid his blunder but this was not the case. Around the fires that night the talk was not about the brave Squire but rather of how he had though they were cheering for him. Word reached his family and they too had one more reason to find humor in their youngest member.

“A Beautiful Weapon is a Deadly Weapon”

On his fifteenth birthday Rocelin received the coveted gift every Centoraurian lad receives, his own sword. For weeks before there were hushed words and laughter in the Ellis home as the date approached. His father had planned the event for years and now that the youth had reached the right age it would be revealed. Bayard had done something quite remarkable considering how he had treated his youngest son. He had searched for a highly skilled drarven weapon smith and in secret planned out in great detail how the sword would be made and what would decorate it. Extended family and friends gathered around as the head of the household brought out a long object wrapped in fine blue cloth. It was tied closed with a long strip of white ribbon. It wasn’t so much that Rocelin did not know what he would receive on this special day but rather what kind of sword and how it would look. His eyes danced as much as his fathers as he handed him the bundle. Roger could hardly hold back his laughter to wait for his young brother remove the covering to reveal the well-kept secret. What was revealed was a Centoraurian Sabre with a fine scabbard and a weapon of exceptional quality. When the blade slid out from the stiff housing and the entire sword could be seen the house broke into a roar of laughter, all but his mother that is. The blade was indeed that of a sabre and it was made of aurium at first glance it would appear to be the weapon of a warriors dream but than the details that made the gift so humorous. In the fuller was etched in a motif of forest leaves. This was first indication that a bit of fun was being had. Next one could see the guard was formed to look like leaves as well. At this point one might think the weapon was made for an elf, brought about by the fact that Rocelin was so particular about his appearance and his natural good looks. The pummel finished the effect with the head of an angry horse, teeth bared and nostrils flared. Its eyes instead of merely being carved were made from bloodgems, a mocking remembrance of the young lads adventures in the Phantom eye woods.

In spite of his best efforts the child could not control his emotions. Silently he laid down the sword and quickly fled from the room taking refuge in the place where he slept. It took his mother a nearly an entire day to get him to emerge and by then the entire guest list had left feeling a bit remorseful for reacting as they did to the rather tactless gesture of the father and without the pleasure of telling Rocelin goodbye. Within a few days he had grown accustom to the weapon after his mother insisted that no one was going to be laughing at him when he wore it. “A beautiful weapon is a deadly weapon,” she reminded him.

Returning to his duties as a squire was a blessed relief from the tension in his home. His mother had stood up to his father for him and now neither was speaking to the other. Gifford saw the weapon and not knowing the story said little other than what a grand weapon it was. His response came as a relief to the young man who just days earlier and been so publicly humiliated.

The knight in training put his whole heart into his training trying to put aside the felt slight of his father and brothers. Whether intentional or not having such an important event used for the purpose of making light at his expense only strengthened his suspicions as to how his father and brothers actually felt about him. Gifford found that it took several attempts on his part to pull the squire away from his sword practice. Often Rocelin’s hands would be blistered and bleeding before he would stop his obsessive attempts to forget. In order to help his young squire Gifford visited more cities and towns hoping that their time spent in more comfortable surrounds might bring some relief and joy to the brooding young man. Tournaments served as well for a distraction so he would do his best to ensure Rocelin was able to attend. They would travel even out of the familiar provinces to open events held by other provinces and in every case Rocelin did exceptionally well. Gifford helped the young man make purchases of more suitable armor such as a full suit of chainmail both for himself and for his horse. Fittings for new clothing also served as a distraction for the well-groomed squire as the knight waited to be called into service. By the end of two years Rocelin was finally getting himself into a better state of mind though his training was still quite vigorous and his behavior often obsessive. There were more skirmishes and more tournaments, each one polishing the young squire making him even more prepared for the life of a warrior.

Than on the Elenear of Rocelin’s eighteenth year Sir Gifford and Rocelin rode across the Golden Bridge toward Milkengrad. It was slow going and it took Rocelin several attempts before mustering the courage. Each was looking their best. With armor and weapons highly polished and new, bright heraldic tunics they made their way. The young Ellis had been in preparation for this day for months as he prepared to meet the Anactar. This was not a mere formality or introduction there was a specific, important reason for the two of them to be arriving in such pomp and grandeur. Behind them were Rocelin’s father, brothers and mother. From the look on his father and mother’s face one could tell they were quite proud of their son. His brother’s countenances were far less joyous. Their father had knighted them all when they had finished their training but now their little brother was about to undergo this right of passage with the Anacter presiding. The soon to be knight had also just received a gift from his father that further upset the brothers, a grand steed with a shinny Cyhalloi Snow coat and deep Nor’sidian tail and main. Each received a mount upon reaching this important event in their lives. They too had received financial help in acquiring the necessary armor of a knight yet they felt their father had for once in his youngest sons life showed him favoritism. They would have protested had there mother not have been so ill but as it was they felt obligated to allow the event to go unchallenged.

Rocelin’s mother had been getting steadily weaker for some time. They young squire had no idea of this being away from home as much as he was. When he and Sir Gifford had arrived at the family estate the young man knew there was a problem. Word had been sent that the two would be coming and that they would be making their way towards the Milkengrad to see the Anactar. His mother was oddly not to be found unlike the woman who was always overjoyed to see her youngest son returning. It was a servant that greeted them and informed him of his mother’s condition and worsening health. If the young man could have postponed the event he certainly would have for her sake but he could not. It was not until the second day that he finally got to see his mother, pale and needing assistance as she moved about. By the third she seemed to be back to her normal self and ready for the journey. Still, Rocelin knew that his mother’s days were numbered.

Given the title of knight, Rocelin was now able to truly make a name for himself. Being assigned to the garrison at Milkengrad there was not much opportunity for battle. He turned his energy to practice and honing his skills. Every day before and after he had complete his duties the dark haired man could be found doing his best to perfect his swordsmanship and riding skills. Even archery was included in his routine though it never seemed to improve much. From time to time he would visit a tavern and socialize with his fellow warriors. It was on one of the outing that he met Abigail Braggsby.

She, in his eyes shown brighter than any star and captivated his heart from the moment he saw her. Having a great grandfather of the Ylfferhim elf tribe, she was tall and slender. Her form bestowed with womanly curves and gorgeous long flowing hair the colour of lyth’be moss. Her sognastheen eyes twinkled with a warm, happy personality that drew Rocelin like moth to the flame. They grew closer and she brought the young knight out of his shell into a world of acceptance he had not known before. Rocelin was happy for the first time in his life.

"Even your horse cannot out-run Queprur!"

Things were going quite well for the young knight. Having won another tournament he was gaining popularity among the nobility and commoners that resided in the grand city. His commanding officers had learned to trust him as a reliable and trustworthy soldier giving him more authority and tasks of greater prestige. Than his world was shaken to the core as if he had gazed into the Void itself.

Word came that he should return home immediately. His father wrote the letter to his commander expressing that Gloriana was dying and that she was requesting to see her son. Rocelin was relieved of duties and allowed to return home. Even though the young knight hurried as fast as his horse would take him his mother passed moments before he arrived.

Sorrow overtook Rocelin as he mourned the loss of the only parent he had ever felt love from. Abigail comforted him giving the young man hope for the future and a reason to keep on living. Her bright smile and allures kept his mind from dwelling on his loss and offered comfort. This further bonded the pair. Rocelin spent a less time practicing and instead spent as much time as he could with the fair Abigail. On one sunny day in the month of Burning Heavens Rocelin proposed. Her father, a wealthy merchant, approved and the date for the blessed event was to be set. Things were looking well for the young knight and happiness seemed within his grasp.

"As loyal as a Caladrius."

Rocelin was called away to perform military duties along the Erpheronian boarder. He was gone for eight long months sending letters back as often as carrier could be found. He thought it strange that there were never any replies yet he had no way of finding out for sure what was the matter.

When he returned there was a letter waiting for him. It was on velum and embossed with a wax seal. Opening it his greatest fears were revealed. It was an invitation to a wedding, his fathers. Not only was his father remarrying so quickly after his mother’s death but the name of the woman he was marrying was Abigail Braggsby.

It was not too uncommon for more mature males to marry and marry women younger than themselves; even if Abigail were completely human the age difference would not have been an issue. What was an issue for Rocelin though was she was his beloved, the woman he was engaged to merry. Angered and deeply hurt he went to see her but his father forbade him. He was told she wanted nothing more to do with him and that she had made a decision for her own future happiness.

Bound by family bonds and social responsibility he found himself forced to attend the ceremonies knowing full well that the love of his life had now forsook him and that he could never love again.

"He Lost His Helmet!"

Berried in his sorrow he had nowhere to turn. With the death of his mother he had lost his sole consolation and than with the betrayal of Abigail he wallowed in his grief. In an effort to cheer up their comrade his fellow soldiers took him to the temple of Etherus. Located in the city Rocelin experienced ecstasy that he had never enjoyed before. It lifted his spirits as he ate, drank and participated in the activities the god of excess was so widely known for. He felt guilty afterwords and seemed to take a turn for the worse. Remembering how pleasurable the experiences were, he began returning often. Sometimes even by him. Rocelin started spending time regularly at the taverns and other places where women and wine could be found. Soon he was barely making his required duties and his practice suffered greatly. Rumors began to spread about drunken brawls and nights of debauchery.

When his father heard what his son had stooped to his anger burned and he wrote a letter requesting Rocelin be reassigned, away from the city. Not only did he want him removed from the temptations of city life but he had a particular place he wanted him sent to, the Phantom Eyes Knight Order. This was more than an attempt to remove his son from temptation; it was an attempt to further humiliate his son. Rocelin knew this but made no objection when he was told to report for duty to place where there was even less opportunity to establish ones greatness, especially as a cavalryman. Most of the knights here were quite proficient in the use of a bow, a skill the young knight struggled with.

Life amid these men of the woods was filled with a lack of challenge for him. The rumors as to why he was assigned to their group and the story of how he had seen the phantom gave his colleagues plenty to ammunition to disgrace and humiliate. Rocelin poured himself into the studies of war. It was an effort to escape the reality of his life and to perhaps show his worth by his skill. Still, even in this order alcohol was readily available and he drank heavily hoping to find a way to berry his feelings. This only added to his feelings of regret for his behavior and made him want to drink even more. It was a vicious cycle Rocelin could not find a way to break.

"For a Dead Soldier, There's no Victory."

Over a year went by and Rocelin took his punishment as best. Exiled as it were to the knights order where he was he felt rejected, humiliated and defeated. His drinking was becoming more and more of a problem though he managed to maintain his duties. Than word came the fortification his father protected was under attack. He volunteered to help gather a force together to aid in the defense of the stronghold.

Moving quickly from one city or town to the next, he and some of those in his order began to gather forces to face the threat. Letters were dispatched to rally forces from areas they would not be able to reach as they traveled towards the location where they were needed. Rocelin’s spirits lifted. He felt needed and men rallied around him for the cause. By the time he was in a days ride there were more than eight hundred men of varying ability ready to form a force under his command.

As they approached Ageron Keep he set into motion his plan. Armeros must have blessed as the early morning fog still hung in the air. Dividing his forces up into three groups he sent one around to the left flank. Descending like a hive full of groshmites, arrows flew into the opposing force. Then came the swift attack of horsemen on the already somewhat confused force. Followed by what warriors were on foot. The second attack began causing the invading force to divide again to take on the new threat. Finally he and the last group attacked from the rear. With only one way of escape Rocelin watched as the forces surrounding the keep turned and fled towards the Erpheronian boarder. They continued to pursue the forces until they had dispersed than finished off what forces remained. Capturing the leaders Rocelin put them under the control of his fellow countrymen with orders to deliver them for questioning and trial in Milkengrad.

The battle had gone on for more than six hours but to Rocelin it seemed but a short time. He, along with two other knights returned to the keep to gain entrance and to see his father. The reception they received was cold and short. In the presence of the other warriors his father rebuked him for taking on such responsibilities as he felt his son was not qualified to lead such an attack and thus stepping out of line to do it. Than after humiliating him this way he heard his father say, “Roger is dead, it should have been you.” His father went on to tell him that he must leave, that he would no longer be welcome at home and that if he or his brothers ever saw him again they would kill him.

Whether or not his father was speaking out of grief Rocelin heard the words and took them like a sabre through the heart. When the audience with the elder Ellis was over he said not a word and excused himself from the company and returned back to his order, a beaten and defeated man. He had set out on this task with such hopes of showing himself worthy to his father and brothers only to see that in their eyes he was an utter disgrace and failure.

"To hold a Bridge"

He talked to the commander once more having arrived far before the rest of the knights that had gone with him. Word had already reached the man of the success that was enjoyed and he was prepared to congratulate the young knight but when he saw the downcast look on Rocelin’s face he knew something had gone wrong.

Rocelin requested leave to sort things out, to find a way of dealing with the disappointment and failings he felt he had. With the death of his mother, the betrayal of his beloved and the blame over his brother’s death he could no longer continue. With the treat of death at the hands of his own family it only deepened the wounds.

Under the orders of his commander he was allowed to leave without a specific date of return. With this approval he packed up his belongings on his horse and set out leaving his homeland for he knew would be an exceedingly long time. Now as a disowned, disinherited and disgraced knight Rocelin struggles with the addictions he faces and his feelings of regret, remorse, failure and worthlessness. He has become a man without a country and without a family. Facing this future he has purchased new barding, a black, unmarked mask to cover his shame. Though when he felt more worthy he developed his own with the snowy white unicorn raised on its hind legs on a Karikrimson background.

Having only his knightly skills to make a living he has begun to work in various places as a mercenary or guard, a sword for hire. This would have been unthinkable while still in his country, now with the bitterness of reality Rocelin must wrestle with his own demons that burn his soul hoping one day to defeat them.

Note: Subheadings taken from and used with liberties from SANTHARIAN PROVERBS AND SAYINGS

Weapons
The Centoraurian Cavalry Sabre
Overal Length: 1 ped
Blade Length: 2 fores, 2 palmspans and 4 nailsbreadths
Hilt Length: 7”
Weight: 2 ods, 4 mut.

This sword is a striking example of quality and creativity. Examining the aurium blade one finds it possesses the graceful curve that this sword is famous for. The center of percussion is located mid blade while the opposing harmonic node is located just beneath the guard. It has a fuller or groove that runs down the blade and tapers off into the curve. Within this space has been etched a motif of overlapping leaves. The side that is for striking is extremely sharp. Opposed to the sharp edge is the backsword, a blunt edge that is thicker than the sharp one giving the blade strength and support. The guard is also made of aurium with quillions that project on either edge of the blade. These projections curve upwards towards the blade slightly. The grip is made of Iron and wrapped in Cinnabrown boiled leather. Balancing out the weight of the blade is a large pummel that is different than the average. The orb is replaced by a rather realistic horse head with flared nostrils and bared teeth. Its eyes are set with bloodgems of a brilliant Karikrimson.

Given as a gift on his fifteenth birthday by his father, this is a fine specimen of dwarven workmanship. Intended as a humorous recollection of Rocelin’s childhood visit to the Phantom Eyes Forest it gave the lad cause for embarrassment. Now though it has proven itself a valuable, highly functional and beautiful instrument of war.

Broadsword:
Overall Length: 1 ped, 1 palmspan, 3 nailsbreadths..
Blade Length: 2 fores, 2 palmspans, 1 nailsbreadth, 2 grains.
Handle Length: 2 palmspans, 7 nailsbreadths, 4 grains.
Grip Length: 2 palmspans, 5 nailsbreadths, 1 grain.
Blade thickness at Gurad: 3 grains
Weight: 2 ods, 10 mut.

Forged from a mixture of Aurium and steel, this high quality hand n’ half blade was obtained as the prize for winning a tournament. Made by a highly skilled human weapon smith, it is not only beautify but highly functional. The tang, inside of the grip, and the blade are made of a single piece of metal for strength and stability. As straight as an arrow the blade is razor sharp on both edges. Rising from the crossguard a fuller about 1 nailsbreadth continues up the center of the sides for two palmspans where it tapers to form the central ridge that runs to the tip. Wrapping the grip is deep nor’sidian leather. The pummel has a highly polished teardrop shape with the point facing towards the grip of the same material as the blade. The crossguard consists of the alloy metal used throughout with quillions that curve slightly towards the blade and end in matching but small teardrops to the pummel.

Belongings
Armor: Rocelin had personal armor and armor for his horse. Many of these items were purchased as part of becoming a knight while others were obtained though winnings from tournaments.

Weapons: The sabre he possesses was given as a gift on his fifteenth birthday by his father while the broadswords was actually one in a tournament.[/list]