Sir Marcus Helflynn
Born as the middle child into a small hamlet, Driftcoin, in Northern Brevoy, Marcus in his youth felt he could never truly aspire to much more than a life of farming in the hard soil and barren conditions of the mountainous terrain. He was one of three brothers, but compared to the ostentatious actions of his brothers, Marcus always sat in the background of his brother’s exploits. With his older brother, wicked strong and brutishly volatile, his younger brother, cunning, dashing and cynical, the only marked trait that seemed to comprise the middle child was his almost absurd adherence to honesty and a boyhood admiration of the knights that sometimes patrolled the countryside. Perhaps it was Marcus’s position in the family, the only of the three brothers to take any interest in keeping the family farm afloat that led to his reliance on a code of honor for guidance, or maybe it was the stories his mother would sometimes read him, of knights that would lead glorious charges against the frontlines of huge enemy garrisons to break their lines and send men screaming away, or maybe it was just a custom quirk of personality, but Marcus has, his entire life, adhered to his own personal code of honor, and the strong sense of duty that followed it. In a sense, Marcus takes his code of chivalry farther than many other knights, a near reverential dogmatism that defines his existence, and plagues it also.
That was, until the bandits attacked. Managing only to escape with the lives of parents, his brothers and only two other families as the brigands demolished and burned the homes and the lives inside them, all they could do was to move farther south and attempt to start anew.
It was there that the three Helflynn brothers joined in the local militia. Serving for years under several knights, a motley order changed and warped from the classical meaning of the term, “knight” from the ever increasing prevalence of gunpowder, organizing several attacks and training to face the inhumane evils that haunted Brevoy at the time, learning to ride in mountainous terrain and stand undeterred at a charge even against lines of gunmen, the three learned quickly that vigilance was the key against the unstoppable might of man’s greatest foe, the firearm. Fighting with the mounted calvalry, going up against revolvers and rifles, Marcus learned that the forward charge was never the optimal path, and soon gained a keen tactical mind admired on the battlefield, even by his betters. Both Marcus and his older brother, Dromus, soon excelled at this fighting, gaining the honor of squiring for Landed Knights, pledged to the Brevoyan Noble House of Surtova.
Eventually, after years of service, when many of the bandits had finally been driven from the area, both Marcus and Dromus were granted knighthood, in service to Lords of Surtova. His younger brother, Frannus, who never truly suited himself to the arts of combat, finding himself better integrated into the estate of their newly gained liege lord.
Coming from common straights, Marcus believed this meteoric rise was the height of his life’s journey, giving a name to the code by which he should uphold above all else, chivalry. Instead what he found at court was a decadent, corrupt and malign debaucherous incoherent governing body. There only sycophants and mindless prospered, and to his dismay he saw his eldest brother, along with himself, rise to the rank of the High Lord’s personal guard and his younger brother become of the old Lord’s many assistants, whispering sweet nothings into the Lords’ ears. All Marcus could do was what he had always done, he told the truth, and he acted chivalrously, but for the greater part he obeyed, even at the cost of his honor. For years and years, that is what he did, saying time after time that “honesty was his and everyone’s one and true virtue.” He tried his hardest to urge his lord to help lead sorties against the many bandit groups still hounding the Northlands or to try and make peace with the other lords to promote a less congested and more harmonious governance, his voice fell on deaf ears. He continued his training with sword and lance for a while even as firearms grew even greater in popularity, favoring the reliability of a horse and lance against the unpredictability of a rifle, but the constancy of his position and sedentariness of his life made atrophy his highly precious skills.
Soon, his requests to speak freely were met with nothing but rebuttals, and as Marcus got older, so too did the old Lords, the heads of the households and the few who still remembered his exploits, and on the day of his death, Lord Marxceis Surtova’s lands, estate, wealth and power were all granted to his son, the young new lord Romulin Surtova. And only days after his father’s funeral, the Lord brought Marcus to his attendance, commenting against all protestations of Marcus’s of the need for newer spryer men in his personal guard, refusing to listen on how a knight serves for life. Lord Romulin Surtova dismissed Marcus from his service, and it was there Marcus through his green cloak, the mark of the personal guard, to the ground, and stormed off, gathering up his steed, who he had named Virtue, and heading off to prove his worth in an expedition to the fabled “Stolen Lands.” What lies ahead for Marcus, even he could not fathom.
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The Helflynn coat of arms is a disembodied eye sitting atop a reddened white mountain range on a sky blue field, representing the mountain roots and the paradigm of “Constant Vigilance,” which also happens to be their motto.
Marcus’s fighting style is based on a very tactical, yet punishingly direct method. Marcus does his best to grant the rest of his allies the tactical advantage, using his banner as a rallying point, before charging into the rear, flank, or sometimes front of his enemy. When he is unable to be mounted, he likes to get in close and mitigate the ranged capabilities of his enemies, yet still using his lance’s reach to prevent enemy counter-attack. He often teaches his tactics to the members of his party, to further their initial advantage in a fight where preparation is permitted.
