Name: Romal Redstone
Age: 28
Sex: Male
Country of Origin: Shivik
Mediere specialty: Ice Mediere



Physical description: Rough, hardened, and powerful. Romal has a sort of raw physique that comes off as more gladiatorial than athletic. It is the kind that comes from a life spent in a harsh wilderness supplemented by regular combat. His skin is pale and has light scaring, which is located mostly on his back . A black tattoo pattern stems from his stomach, up his chest, then splits and becomes more complex as it wraps around his arms.

His hair is a frayed and matted black that adorns his head with the consistency of a mop. It reaches down to just below his collarbone in the front and his shoulder blades in the back. He sports a short beard that covers his chin, reaches around his mouth and up to his ears on each side. He hardly ever covers his torso with clothing of any kind, as it is in his culture to show strength his tattoos, scars, and ability to weather the cold of his home with nothing but his bare chest.

His armor consists of assorted scraps that he has assembled over his lifetime from defeated enemies. Spiked metal gauntlets, plate boots, fur leggings covered by a studded leather skirt, and a large leather belt adorned with assorted Shike skulls. An elongated machete-like sword is held in a scabbard that is strapped horizontally to the back of his waist. Lastly a strangely crafted helmet that was designed to keep the head protected but still aerated by having many thin slits.

Height: 5’ 10”
Weight: 204 lbs
Eye color: Dark Brown




Personality: Cold, violent, and unsocial. Throughout his life Romal has been driven by very little. Only taking joy out of the struggle with death that ends when he silences the lives of those who would seek to end his own. He has only ever cared for himself, his brother, and his brother’s family. With the latter two probably taking precedent over himself. Thus, with their murder, he has become driven only by the need to take revenge on the one responsible for their death.

He has a hard time identifying with the needs of others and has a harder time caring about what happens to them. Not particularly intelligent, he is slow to grasp new concepts or ideas and it is very hard for him to see something from a different point of view other than his own. He is impatient and not one to let someone stand in the way of something he wants. That being said, he is in want for very little. Beyond his revenge and his own life, he cares little for material possessions or for the actions that others take. Never judgmental, he sees himself on a plane with everyone else just trying to survive rather than on a pedestal.

Nearly the only thing he takes true pleasure in is fighting, which to him either ends in only the death of his enemies or his own. He fights like a savage and cornered animal, releasing a relentless barrage of attacks that are focused only on causing the most damage possible. In this savage, blood lusted state he is at his happiest and it is one of the only times he can be seen smiling. Though, after the death of his brother and his brothers family, Romal has noticed that he seems to be enjoying fighting less than he has in the past.


Likes:
-Combat
-Killing
-Life threatening situations
-Wilderness

Dislikes:
-Long conversations
-Most people
-Questions
-Being told what to do

Weakness: Psychopathic tendencies, impatient, blood lust. He has little defense against ranged attacks.


History:

“In the north of the north, there live a people that were ousted by their kin. For their curiosity, they were sentenced to death and forced out of long established strongholds. In the north of the north they became splintered and shattered, fighting amongst themselves over sparse hunting grounds. Among these exiles there was much pain, much suffering, and much death. However, in the north of the north, they survived.”

~Context~

Romal was born amongst the splintered and tribal peoples that inhabit the most northern wastes of Shivik. Far from the cities that house most of the population of Shivik, these peoples faced a hard fought living in the violent and vastly uninhabitable landscape. Besides the threat of Shike and starvation they often did battle amongst themselves, due to the scarcity of hunting grounds. However, Utilizing their unique form of Ice Mediere, they were able to survive in this rough climate. The mystics of the tribal society handled the refining, blessing their hunter/warriors with the gift of the Blood-Ice Mediere.

Long ago their ancestors had been ousted from the civilized north for developing a type of Ice Mediere refined from frozen blood. Though it’s benefits gave resilience, stamina, and a vastly sped up healing process. Many took offence to it’s use of blood and claimed it an abomination. Thus they were thrown out of the civilized part of Shivik in the hope that their heretical knowledge would perish with them.

~Blessed Twins~

Romal was the youngest of two male twins who were born to the chief of one of the largest of the northern tribes. The mystic of the tribe divined this as a blessing and foresaw that the brothers would lead the tribe to greatness.

Romal and his brother Remal, spent their childhood learning the ways of their tribes culture. Remal showed his promise early, learning everything that was shown to him quicker than any others in his age group, particularly Romal. Romal struggled with nearly everything he was taught and it often took him much longer grasp a concept than anyone else. Those teaching him the skill often had to give him one on one teaching after the others had moved on. If not for the mystic’s blessing that been placed on the twins, Romal would have probably been considered too slow to be a benefit to the tribe and would have been put out of his misery before he reached his seventh birthday.

However, as they grew older there was one thing that Romal began to succeed at. Combat. He seemed to have been born with the resolve of a Shike matron, never giving up until he was either the victor or knocked unconscious. Among his peers and even some the older youths he was bested by no-one. Not even his brother Remal, who was quite skilled himself, could stand against Romal‘s vicious combat prowess. The chief was ecstatic, finally his other son had shown some worth.

Still, some in the village began to note of the boy’s strange lack of sympathy toward anyone but his brother. He had to be told to stop a training fight, even when his opponent had clearly been beaten. He never seemed to openly display affection towards others, and he only seemed to smile when he was fighting. Once, when he was twelve, he killed a domesticated animal that was a gift from another tribe. When confronted about it he was confused as to why everyone was so upset. Within their tribes, the people of northern Shivik were a close-knit group and this child’s apparent inability to relate to others disturbed many.

~Ascention~

As they brothers grew into adulthood, they proved themselves in many skirmishes with the other northerners and brought even more power to their tribe. Remal became the natural successor to his father. He was strong, intelligent, charismatic, and benevolent. The rest of the tribe adored him, many were ecstatic about the prospect of having him as their leader and he had many of the young women of the tribe pining over him. Romal, on the other hand kept to his violent social pariah ways. He was a terror on the battlefield, often routing the other war parties largely on his own. In the village, he spent most of his time alone, or with his brother. Who was the only one he seemed to enjoy being around. When the twins turned nineteen, their father who was now quite old died. Remal succeeded as the chief and took one of the most beautiful young women of the tribe as his wife. Romal became champion of the war-parties, but stayed as isolated as ever.

For a year or so things went smoothly. The village held onto the vast amount of land and power it had accumulated among the tribes. Remal ruled perfectly, bringing prosperity. Romal and the other warriors, but mostly Romal, held no equal amongst the tribes of the north. The village soon became the most powerful of all the northern tribes.

Then, one day, Remal told his brother that he had come up with an idea. He wanted to united all of the northern tribes under one banner and take back the land their ancestors had been ousted from. To bring a new age of prosperity to their people and annex more fruitful lands. Romal, never particularly driven in anything but direct combat, gave a vague response. Remal implored him to take his claim more seriously, he knew he would need his brother’s combat prowess. Romel, sensing that his brother truly needed his help, promised do whatever was needed of him.

~War and Peace~

A bloody conflict enveloped the northern tribes over the next few years as Remal slowly began uniting all of the scattered tribes of northern Shivik. He tried to be as peaceful as he could, but many were not up for the idea of being ruled by someone whom they had never met. Romal, at the head of the war-parties, was probably happier than he had ever been as personally put down much of the opposition.

Just after the twin’s twenty-fourth birthday, Remal had united all of the northern tribes under his rule and ushered in a era of prosperity never seen before by his people. By rationing and splitting the food equally among the villages, they no longer had to fight amongst themselves for land. However, Remal’s plan was not over, he still planned take more fruitful land in the south.

With the northern tribes united he took the fight to civilized Shivik. A massive war-party descended on the south and in a surprise attack was able to take hold of one of the smaller cities. It was a massive victory for Remal and the northern tribes, but it was short-lived. Civilized Shivik reacted in kind, and the war quickly escalated. The cities had slightly more advanced technology, but the tribe’s warriors were incredibly battle-hardened from constantly fighting amongst themselves. The war became a stalemate.

After three years of no gain on either side, Remal saw that the conflict was no longer worth the cost it was bringing to his people. He opened dialogue and after a begrudged meeting with the leaders of the city-states, a shaky peace accord was negotiated. The city’s would open trade with the tribes and the tribes would retreat from their borders. Many of the tribes saw this as a loss, but agreed with Remal’s decision to end the conflict. There were a few dissidents, that wanted to continue fighting, but the bended to Remal’s power.

Over the next year, relation between the two cultures slowly increased. Romal, having survived many battles and enjoyed himself greatly during the war, took his place in the only spot he knew, his brother’s side.

~Revenge~

Then, one day, a caravan came to the village-capital. It was not a particularly strange occurrence, many caravans had started to bring food to the tribes to exchange for the pelts and jewels found only in the north of the north. However, this one brought something almost never seen in the northern tribes. A foreigner. Remal greeted the man himself and held a feast in his honor, appeasing many of the villagers who wanted to get a look at the man from the southern continent. Romal was unimpressed.

That next morning the tribe found Remal dead. Him, his wife, his six year old daughter, and four year old son were found slaughtered in their tent. This came to a shock to everyone and the village was paralyzed at what to do. They were without a chief or an apparent successor. Chaos spread within the village in the first day as the elders tried to come up with a plan as to who would lead. Who would unite the village? Much less the other tribes who had only been under control through the capability of Remal. Romal’s name was briefly mentioned, but quickly discarded. Romal was not his brother, he had never even taken a wife.

Romal was shocked and angered more than he had ever been in his entire life. He also was experiencing something he had never felt before, sadness. He had lost his brother, whom he cared for perhaps more than himself. He had also lost his brother’s family, who were his only direct kin and he had grown uncharacteristically close with. Epically his little niece. Who no matter how grumpy or cold he was to her, always wanted to give him a big hug and swing on his strong arms.

The chaos of the village did not effect Romal, he hardly even recognized it. The only thing he seemed to notice was that the foreigner that had arrived the previous day was no where to be found. He set out the very day after “convincing” the caravan to take him to the port capital of civilized Shivik. He gathered enough of his brother’s treasury to secure him passage to the southern continent. To the place where the caravan leader told him the foreigner was from, Mintold.




Equipment:

Scavenged Armor: Varied and assorted armor pieces that Romel has hand picked from his fallen enemies.

Hakka: A guardless, elongated cross between a machete and a sword. A traditional weapon of the northern tribes of Shivik. Made in a process that is more similar to sculpting than forging, the Hakka is “cut” from a large chunk of raw ore. The ore is hyper cooled using ice Mediere then chunks are struck from it until it is formed into a large and heavy blade. By not heating the ore, it retains a high density given to it by high-pressure geological processes. This gives the weapon a mace-like heavy tip along with it’s blade.

Water skin: Container made of fur and Shike bladder for water, attached at belt line.

Pouches: He has small pouches and containers on his belt line that holds mostly dried meat.