Lythal Nemur's page

Lythal is an average-looking Taldan, although he is lithe and muscular for his frame. Unlike most Taldans, Lythal appears to shy away from current fashions and gaudy colours, preferring to dress in muted colours as though to not attract attention. When not travelling with the hood of his cloak pulled up around his head, Lythal's black hair is usually tied back with a leather thong. Piercing black eyes speak of the intelligence behind them, although Lythal would be the first to admit he is not the most intelligent man in Golarion.

At the moment, Lythal wears hide armor beneath a travelling outfit which he usually keeps pulled tight about his person. A single rapier is fitted to the belt tied around his waist and he is more than willing to demonstrate his ability with it.

Lythal sports several duelling scars across his body; reminders of when someone else came close to ending his life. He doesn't care to show them off; they are not badges of honor to Lythal but rather reminders of past failure.

Lythal is a taciturn man, not prone to bouts of humor. He has little spare time, between reading his spellbook and practicing his fencing with his rapier. Although a patron of the fine arts, his recent situation sees him with barely two gold pieces to rub together and thus his usually stony countenance is exaggerated by the lack of culture to take the edge off.

Since his untimely and speedy departure from New Stetven, Lythal has been on the road to keep one step ahead of the hounds at his heels and this has resulted in him being wary at best and paranoid at worst.

However, this silent demeanour does not prevent him from working as a team. He realises that the only way out of this predicament is to prove himself a man of honor and that can only be done by finishing what he has started.

Lythal grew up on stories of the great Aldori Swordlords. His father, a Taldan fencer of no small renown, would re-enact all of the greatest tales, swishing his own rapier left and right while fighting off imaginary foes. His mother, a Wizard's scribe by profession but secret practitioner by desire, despaired at the focus on the martial and attempted to teach her son what few tricks she knew in an attempt to expand his mind beyond fanciful dreams of fencing glory.

As he grew in years, he became equally adept at both swordplay and magic but tended to keep the latter practiced purely for functional reasons. After all, the ability to wipe the sweat from your body after a rigorous workout was a blessing if you could do it without lifting a finger. Eventually, the time came for Lythal to leave and with fond farewells and a bag full of gold coins, Lythal departed from Taldor for the cosmopolitan joys of New Stetven.

When Lythal arrived, he spent months trying to gain access into one of the Aldori schools but he was never quick enough or strong enough, always missing the acceptance cut by a few places. Failure began to weigh on him and he became more morose in nature. Rigorous practice gave way to the practice of drinking alcohol and slowly but surely, his confidence level drifted away.

Finally, Lythal's patience snapped and in the middle of his latest acceptance duel, he invoked a spell his mother had taught him to try and weaken his foe. He barely escaped with his life. Without pausing to gather belongings from his tavern, he fled New Stetven with his clothing, rapier and what was left of his bag of gold. He fled to the southeast, having heard of the Stolen Lands to the south of Restov. There, he could hide in anonymity until things had blown over.

Purchasing replacement goods on his way to Restov, he came to learn of the Swordlord's offer to colonise the Stolen Lands. Lythal realised that perhaps this could be his calling rather than becoming an Aldori swordsman. Pulling his cloak tighter around him, he spent a couple of days establishing what was happening before learning a single name that would lead him to the start of his quest.

Oleg's.