About Vincent Teldas
You trained with blades for long hours as a youth, either taking lessons in the genteel art of fencing from tutors paid for by your parents or being taken under the wing of a disenfranchised fencer who may have turned to a life of crime.
Benefit: You gain a +1 trait bonus on attack of opportunity attack rolls made with daggers, swords, and similar bladed weapons.
Most Noble Order of the Exalted March:
A facsimile of the righteous and noble traditions of Lastwall to the north, many have guessed that the true purpose behind the establishment of this Knightly Order is an attempt to paint an attractive face on the Molthuni war effort—a source of inspiration to Molthune’s citizenry and an honorable guise for the scrutiny of nations beyond. Though boasting few in number currently, the ranks are continuing to swell, and include followers of Abadar, Erastil, and Iomedae in addition to several noble-born scions and decorated war heroes.
You have been recruited into this burgeoning Order under the tutelage of Ser Eodric Teldas, an Abadaran Justiciar (“Paladin”) and younger cousin of the Imperial Governor. Eodric is a stern but fair man, and has thus far acquitted himself admirably as head of the Order.
Benefit: You receive a +1 trait bonus to Diplomacy, Knowledge (nobility), and Knowledge (religion); one of these is a class skill for you. Furthermore, your service to the Order earns you an annual stipend (You receive an additional 250gp in starting funds).
The oracles smiled upon you when your parents claimed you were of divine right, and you were raised with privileges few can fathom.
Benefit: Your starting money increases by 900 gp.
Wealth: (2 pp, 7 gp, 1 sp, 0 cp)
Vincent's Manor, with an additional Stable in the back yard (2 Stall Rooms)
Vincent is a strong, well built man of about 6 feet in height. He has shoulder length brown hair framing his face. He wears the colors of The Most Noble Order of the Exalted March, be it fine clothing or his ceremonial armor. His eyes are brown, and his skin is more tanned than many of one of his station due to his frequent sun exposure during training and time out in the field with his unit.
Vincent maintains a regal bearing, even though he finds it stifling at times. He likes to let himself go a bit when he is not on duty or attending a social function amongst the upper ranks of the Molthuni elite. At those times, he enjoys sharing drinks and tales with his brothers in arms, using his inborn magical talents to aid in the festivities. However, he never lets his guard slip to the point that he begins rubbing elbows with those not of the citizenry.
He is generally well liked and well respected, and his ability to blend sword and magic in ways that improve not only his combat prowess, but other soldiers in his company as well has earned him that respect. He does his best to juggle his duties to both family and order while also pursuing his own goals and dreams.
[Fun-Loving] - Vincent loves a good time, and when the situation presents itself he relishes in festivities and a good prank.
[Loyal] - Though many consider this a positive thing, for Vincent, it more often than not leads to trouble, as he has put his family name and prestige in jeopardy on behalf of citizens of lower rank who has earned his respect.
Vincent is born to Victor Teldas and Selena Ravnagask, both of which are middle tier nobility amongst the oligarchy of Molthune, their house seat resting in Braganza. Ever since the appointment of their distant relative Lord Cole to the seat of Imperial Governor of the city, fortunes have favored beyond reckoning for the various families sharing blood with the Archbanker. Surely Abadar has smiled upon them, for family coffers have swelled thanks to the many lucrative business arrangements merchants have scrambled to arrange with the new ruling families. Vincent, like many other children of the family, is but a fortunate child lucky enough to have been born to the family in such a time of prosperity. (Chosen Child Trait)
His father insured that he received the finest training in the land in regards to both academics and swordplay, hiring a professional fencer to train his son for what was certain to be a glorious life as an officer in the Molthune army. However, fate as it would seem, was not necessarily content with the current path Vincent was treading. During one of his many sessions of training with his trainer, manifested remarkable magic powers that was beyond either of their understandings, and which had never been exhibited in their family before. Upon receiving report of this, Victor was uncertain as to what to do with the young teen. He eventually decided that instead of hiding him away in fear that his magic may bring a bad name to the family, he decided to add to the young boys studies a master sorcerer who could teach him to control the magic that ebbed within the boy.
After several years, Vincent learned to manage the magic in the form of spells and auras that not only benefited him, but also aided those around him. As his mastery over magic improved, Vincent began to blend his skill with it into other aspects of his life. His father first thought to prohibit it, but upon witnessing his son use his various talents during a social gathering at their manor to enthrall and entertain the many guests, he decided to allow his son to continue his practices. Particularly since Victor’s pranks had managed to pave the way to allow for Victor to secure a contract with Lord Resket to provide a naval escort for Victor’s trade ships on Lake Encarthan and the Inkwater River.
Later in life, Vincent was out on what was supposed to be a simple patrol along the Backar Forest. During camp one night, while Vincent was on watch, he noted a group of satyrs and sprites attempting to steal their unit’s horses. Vincent sounded the alarm, and a small battle ensued. While trying to flee back to the forest, one of the satyr’s covering the fey’s retreat shot an arrow that sliced his captain’s throat deeply. Certain the captain would die without his aid, Vincent rushed to the man’s side, seeing the look of terror overwhelm the man who was certain his life was literally spilling out beside him. Vincent channeled the magic at his disposal, and managed to stop the bleeding to a point that it was now manageable with a bandage.
Upon his return to Braganza, his Captain had treated him like a returning hero, including quite the night on the town at his expense. Thinking the matter settled, Vincent returned to his home to find his older cousin, Lord Eodric, there meeting with his father. It turns out, his cousin had been watching his achievements, and had been planning to extend an invitation to Vincent to The Most Noble Order of the Exalted March that he had formed. His actions out in his most recent excursion into the field sealed the deal, and made it appear to not be an appointment based on family favoritism. Vincent graciously accepted, and has recently been formally initiated into their ranks.
“Again! Keep your feet apart! Sword arm towards your opponent! Only move your shield arm over if you cannot parry a blow with your blade! How many times must we go through this Vincent!?” Master Crucias was short tempered today. Not that today was any different than any other day, mind you. Crucias was always short tempered. Even when Vincent performed a maneuver exactly as the old swordsman had described, there was always something wrong with it. Either his foot should have been further this way or his arm should have been higher. When those corrections were made, they would be too much in the man’s eyes.
That was the only reply that could be given that would not warrant a slap from the broadside of Crucias’ rapier. It was a phrase that Vincent normally didn’t have issue with, but when it came to Crucias, it seemed to sting as it rolled off his tongue.
The room resounded with the echo of Crucias’ blade against Vincent’s shoulder blade. “I said again!” Crucias took up his normal stance opposite the boy, prepared to find some other way to surely criticize his technique yet again. Vincent did as he was told, taking up his own stance.
As the two men began their mock duel, Vincent caught wind of something on the air he had failed to notice before today. He caught wind of ale on the teacher’s breath. This man is teaching swordplay while he is drunk! That’s why he is being such an @#$ today! Vincent refused to let his wandering thought distract him from the duel. He used this information to his advantage, and as Crucias parried aside his sword, Vincent spun along with the blow and tripped up the man before his drunken senses could properly calculate the unexpected move. Crucias’ head snapped back onto the marble floor, and a new crack echoed through the hall.
Vincent smiled as he looked over at his grimacing teacher, whose face was rapidly turning red from both the pain and the probably anger rising up in him. Vincent didn’t care for the latter though, seeing the look on Crucias’ face as he was falling was worth it. However, the man had taught him a lot in regards to swordsmanship, and as such, Vincent didn’t let him languish on the floor for long, and moved over and offered the man his hand to help him up.
Crucias took the offering, and once he was to his feet, Vincent said, “My apologies, sir, I did not mean t…”
Vincent was interrupted by the backhand of his teacher. “Never lend aid to a fallen enemy! That’s a good way to end up with a dagger between your ribs!”
Another slap, this time on the opposite cheek. “And never, EVER, try to embarrass me again, do you understand boy?”
It was now Vincent’s turn to get angry. He could feel the hatred for this drunken fool rise to a point he had never felt towards another soul. His heart pounded like a race horse. Yet, all he muttered as he glared at the man was a simple, “Yes sir.”
“AGAIN!” his teacher demanded as he turned and stepped back to his position opposite the boy. The two men glared at each other, anger raging in both their eyes. However, this time, the teacher initiated the battle and lunged forward with a volley of blows Vincent had not expected. This did not keep him from parrying them aside, however. The man’s obvious attempt to catch Vincent off guard only angered him more.
Gradually, Vincent managed to take the initiative away from Crucias, and began an offensive of his own. As Crucias began parrying away Vincent’s blows, Vincent noticed a look of astonishment on the man’s face. As Vincent began delivering over handed blows one after another towards his teacher, he failed to notice that his sword’s blade had begun to glow.
With one final strike, Vincent’s longsword cleaved through his teachers thinner blade, snapping it into two pieces and several smaller shards. The sound snapped Vincent out of his rage, and as he surveyed the scene, he finally noticed his glowing blade and the destruction it had wrought. It was about this time that his father stormed into the training hall.
“What is going on in here Crucias?” Victor demanded as he marched in.
“Sir, your son just attacked me in a fit of murderous fury and attempted to kill me! I cannot stand for this!” Crucias’ lie was obvious to Victor. This foreigner would have to do better than that to fool someone who was lied to on a daily basis.
Victor eyed his sons glowing sword with a look of both fear and curiosity as Crucias continued to blather on about who would pay to have his sword repaired, claiming to be some sort of family treasure or some nonsense. Victor simply tossed the man the coin purse containing his pay for the day, and said without looking at the man, “Be gone, your lies and your breath sicken me. Go make arrangements for your sword at the tavern, I’m sure that’s what your more concerned with anyway.” As the man walked out, Victor called back to him without looking away from his son, “Your services are no longer required.”
Looking at his son who was shaking in fear of what was happening to him, Victor said, “Son, what is happening?”
Vincent said nothing, but began to kneel down to pick up a shard of Crucias’ rapier from the floor. As he did so, the shard began levitating towards him on seemingly on its own, eventually ending up in his hand. The two men looked from the shard, to each other, and back at the shard.
Victor awoke from his dream with a start. Looking about the barracks, he saw several other men of his new order sleeping on their own cots. He looked over to the small nightstand containing some of his personal affects, and opened the drawer quietly. Reaching in, he found what he was looking for and laid back down. As the small metal shard floated above his eyes, he smiled as it glinted the reflected moonlight coming in through the window. He used his magic to return it to its place in the drawer, and then closed it. As many times as he had relived this memory as a dream, it always made him feel better to see just how far his magic had taken him.