Walter Denemont, the third son of the impoverished and obscure Count of Alnpass, an unimportant town at the foot of a high and difficult pass in the Greyhorn Mountains, long since overshadowed by lower and easier passes. As the third son, Walter will certainly not inherit what meager domains are still within the family holdings, and after a quarrel with his family in which his elder brother was badly injured, Walter set out to seek his fortune away from the Greyhorn mountains. What lord, however, would accept the services of a man who would attack his own kin? Out of desperation, Walter has fallen in with the Faramonds, the only noble family desperate enough to accept such a man and with a chance, however small, of ascending anywhere within the Bunic world. A thin, lithe young man just under six feet in height, Walter is pale with dark hair and a hooked nose, as is common in his part of the mountains, Walter walks with a sure-footedness born of a dozen young summers tracking and hunting game among the forests and steep rock faces of the Greyhorn Mountains and speaks with the assuredness and poise of the nobleman who has little left but his high birth.
Twenty years a mercenary soldier, latterly a captain of a private company of threescore hard-bitten crossbowmen, Hrothgar now has many sandy streaks in his eponymous beard. He was making a satisfactory living until the day some cowardly craven on the field of battle was set to spit him from behind with a lance. Only the timely intervention of one Cyrus Faramond saved his life, and changed it for good - for now honour dictates that his life is the Faramonds’, their bread his bread, their quarrel his quarrel, until the life-debt is paid.
Hrothgar is slow to reach for his axe until there is no other way, but when it must be drawn, then he will lay it on with the best of good will (and no small aptitude) until matters are definitely settled. Through much training and experience he became as good a crossbowman as any in his company, and if the knightly kind be wont to sneer at such an unchivalrous weapon, that is their concern; Hrothgar himself considers it a most effective means of getting the last word.
Making light of burdens, Hrothgar typically appears in a coat of mail, helm, heavy gauntlets and boots, but he does carry around still heavier armour for those occasions that might demand it.
He knows a little of caring for his equipment and his men, and rather more of the movements of companies, battalions and even armies, for he has fought through many wars and understands them deeply, the why as well as the how.
Only a peasant by local standards. Back home, there’s a big distinction between turnip-growers and men of weapons, even those with precious little land of their own. 
Now you’re talking about foreigners with honor? Now I know you’re definitely pulling my leg.
More on Cyrus Faramond:
Cyrus knows that a ferocious reputation is a very fragile thing. One can not falter or appear to be indecisive at the critical moment, and one can never fail, else the fear one inspires in others turns to contempt. Cyrus appreciates the raw vigor with which the most ferocious animals fight. He understands why some beasts would be willing to die rather than surrender, submit, or walk away. His pit dog, Brute, is not the strongest creature, or the best fighter, but one thing no man or animal can surpass him for is tenacity. Brute is the example of ferocity Cyrus strives to be.
Brute is missing an ear, and a scar runs across his throat, where no fur can grow. He fights only for the thrill of the kill. Like Cyrus, he is watched with suspicion and unease when he approaches. The peasants hate him, and are eager to see him and his master depart. Cyrus is careful when commanding Brute to attack, because there is no calling him off when the scream of bloodlust rings in Brute’s ears. The animal will surely die gloriously, for lack restraint.
The Pordeaux branch of ye olde PETA is sure to love Cyrus.
We Faramonds are quite an impressive lot of nobles, ain’t we? :dubious:
Looks like you’re our best hope, too.
We’re doomed.
You know, I’ve never even read Titus Groane…
Frankly it’s just what I was hoping for. The Fellowship of the Ring this is not.
Can we begin on the weekend?
Yup. Assuming everything goes well I’ll be posting the game thread tomorrow. When I do I’ll make a link here. This thread will still be used for certain mechanics discussions as well as for more replacement signups.
The game thread can be found here.
Does game related “out of character” questions and so forth go here? Or do we have a way of distinguishing in-character and out-of-character comments in the game thread?
You can ask OOC questions in the game thread. If OOC questions turn into big discussions I’ll divert them back to this thread.
As for distinguishing OOC talk, you’ve got a few options. The simplest would be to type something like this…
OOC: Hey, is my horse a male or a female (please don’t ask this question :p)?
or
//Hey, is my horse a male or a female?
Or you can send questions to me in PMs or what have you. Quite a few of the other players have experience with play-by-post RPGs so I’m sure you’ll pick things like that up from them as play continues.
In the other games, we usually put OOC questions in green text, to distinguish them. We’ve also put magic and magic items in blue text. We don’t have to use that convention, but it worked well there.
Whatever you guys decide to do is fine by me and I’ll likely use whatever system the majority of the players do. The only thing I ask is that whatever you guys do decide, try to keep it consistent. Thanks!
I am back from camping and reading the game thread now. Huzzah.
Hrothgar: “It’s your fucking fault you’re short of food, don’t come whining to us.” 
Maybe I should use The Rule of Three as an example in the “Games with dickhead protagonists” thread! 