Well, many years ago an old dynasty ruled all three kingdoms. By 'many years' I mean probably 20 years. By 'old' I mean probably 200 years. That was The Dailon Dynasty. Olyn and Irion were under the rule of Loren, which was then called Dailon. A rebellion of farmers and landless workers overthrew the Dailon Dynasty in Dailon, causing the Dynasty's collapse across its territory as smaller, less organized rebellions followed. The rebellion in Dailon, though led by an organizer planning democracy, was soon hijacked by a man calling himself Lorsoul. His magic was powerful, and his use of it brutal. Under the guise of a people's rebellion he took crushing control. Dailon was renamed Loren purely out of narcissism. Lorsoul installed an ally as the ruler of Irion, and essentially rules what is generally referred to as an independent kingdom. In Olyn, the man who really just carried out orders for the Dailons before clawed his way to power as 'king' of Olyn. Technology is medieval, the highest tech thing around is a Gutenberg-esque printing press. Magic is around, but not really part of everyday life. It is used largely for major protection spells, though it can be used in battle and to heal. I'm going to focus on loren because I'd like to set the RP there.

Loren is the least chaotic and most oppressive kingdom. Thus, the largest and most extreme resistance is in the forests of Loren. There the Red Leopards plot to tear down Lorsoul. Enemies of Loren go to one of two places. One is the mines North of Loren. There, political prisoners from Loren and Irion toil for a couple years before being released. The second is the Citadel dungeons. People don't leave there. That's where Red Leopards go, and as such they make a big effort not to get caught. They all wear lockets full of poison in case of such an occasion. As to those minor political prisoners, they are mostly everyday people who let a derisive word about their government slip. Somewhere someone has a prohibited printing press and prints a dissident newspaper, the liberated pen. Curfew is 9 PM to 5 AM. The slave trade is state sanctioned, against the original intent of the rebellion Lorsoul co-opted. No laws govern the treatment of slaves, many of whom have been kidnapped from the Southern Desert. The Red Leopards also target this establishment.

Humans:
Humans are humans as we know them. Smart, but not in possession of magic. Generally an underclass, and one of two species that can be legally sold into slavery. They are the single largest demographic.

Elves:
Again, pretty stereotypical. Elves have some magic, but very little. It must be carefully cultivated to have any real power. More powerful elves are able to slightly bend gravity momentarily, create bursts of noise or light, or maybe move something without touching it. Elves can also be sold into slavery. This was not the case under the Dailon Dynasty as they were elves. There are slightly fewer elves than humans.

Nymphs:
Nymphs are very connected to nature. Within the category of Nymph is Stone Nymph, Wind Nymph, Aquatic Nymph, and Blast Nymph (think fire and booms). There are significantly fewer nymphs than elves. Their magic is fairly powerful and specific to their race, think Avatar the Last Airbender, but with a more spiritual and ritualistic attitude.

Trolls:
Trolls are the smallest minority. They look identical to humans, but have extremely powerful magic, more like a stereotypical wizard. Lorsoul is a Troll. He made an effort to eliminate other trolls, seeing them as a threat.

The Loren revolution began with the dissatisfaction of farmers, and to a lesser extent small merchants, with the monarchy, the Dailon Dynasty. The queen at the time, Katrina, was perceived to favor aristocrats who exploited farmers and drove small merchants out of business. Farmers could not afford to pay for supplies, so they borrowed money from the rich, who, being the ones that kept the accounting books, could manipulate the numbers to keep farmers constantly in debt, slyly enslaving thousands. Taxation did nothing but harm the farmers, who had to pay a far greater percentage of their income than did the wealthy. Those without land were in even worse shape. On the rare occasion when an action was put to a vote, they could not even speak on the issue, let alone vote. They were concentrated in central Dailon (Loren’s previous title). Most stayed in inns or taverns when they could afford it, or rented room, and when they couldn’t they slept in alleys, hiding from the soldiers that patrolled the streets at night.
In the year 1057 famers, merchants and the landless demanded relief from crushing debt and poverty. They wanted their debts to be forgiven, and the landless wanted to be guaranteed some where to sleep at night, proposing that several shelters be built for the homeless. The queen told them that they had brought all their problems upon themselves, that had they worked harder and been well behaved they too would be rich. Up until this time, the monarchy had been relatively stable, having been in power for over 1000 years. The queen surrounded herself with people who were both intelligent and loyal. Her cabinet included many nyphs and elves, but few humans. Humans were generally considered lower life forms. Elves were not actually believed to be very far above humans, but they enjoyed a high enough status to participate in most things. Elves also made up over half of Dailon’s population.
Slavery was a grim reality for many people. According to one study, nearly as many humans were slaves as were free. A much smaller percentage of elves were slaves because of their elevated status and ability to defend themselves with magic. Laws regulating the treatment of slaves were non existent. Killing a slave was not a crime, and the same went for any other injury or crime. A slave’s children were automatically slaves themselves. A large slave market existed in the west of Dailon. Many slaves were nomads, or the descendants of those nomads, who lived in the forests and deserts. Mostly humans, these people with were hunter-gatherers. They had no written language, but did carry on a rich oral tradition. Nomads were labeled barbarians or savages, and so, slave traders maintained, capturing them and forcing them into servitude was completely moral.
But I digress, I was writing about the revolution. I’ll go more in depth on race relations, slavery, and the history and culture of Dailon later. Back to the revolution.
The disgruntled citizens were outraged by the queen’s apathy. They began to seriously consider revolution behind closed doors, in whispered exchanges. It was in this climate that a human named Ilene Ray went from farmer’s daughter to revolutionary. I’ll write her biography later, and just provide the essentials now. Ray was born on a small farm a dozen miles from urban Dailon. She worked the land with her father until 1056, when he died of a hereditary disease. This disease will lie dormant for years, and then, with apparently random timing, rear its vicious head and kill the unhappy victim over the course of several months. When Ray’s father died, the land that she believed was hers was sold by an aristocrat that her father, Charles Ray, owed money at the time of his death. Ray traveled to the city to look for work, but found that as a human and a woman, her prospects were dismal. Jobs were hard to come by in the city for any race, or any gender, but a nymph of elf would always be hired over a human. Ray finally found a job cleaning at a tavern, where she overheard a group of men discussing the possible revolution. Ray overheard nervous talk of the consequences should they fail. Ray turned to the men and told them that she for one had nothing to lose, and that if they wanted a revolution they couldn’t be half-hearted. At first the men were reluctant to respect her, but her intelligence and forceful personality made her popular among the soon to be revolutionaries, particularly farmers, many of who knew her or her father. She quietly organized an army of farmers and the poor. Only three months after she took charge, Ray decided to attack the castle. Her theory, which was proved correct, was that the queen held the administration together, and that with her death the government would also die.
A vital, possibly the most vital, element of the strike was a man named Lorsoul. His biography I’ll also write later, but again the essentials will be here. Ilene didn’t in fact know all that much about Lorsoul. He was a fairly tall man, with fine blonde hair and hazel eyes. He appeared human, but was in fact a troll. All trolls have magic. Not the feeble painstakingly learned magic of an elf, nor the power over a single element as a nymph. Trolls were naturally powerful, thought some were more powerful than others. Lorsoul, through genetics and training, was extremely powerful. He could break the most complex spells and manipulate the world around him in a myriad of ways.
Lorsoul’s powers were not entirely magical though. He was extraordinarily charismatic, he could convince someone of nearly anything with a well timed smile and an always perfect tone. People were quick to trust him, that thin man with the friendly smile and clear eyes couldn’t possibly be a liar.
Ilene Ray trusted Lorsoul. She trusted in his power, and she believed that, although he was not a farmer, he had genuine sympathy for them. Ray also knew that she needed him. The castle was protected by a “sanctuary seal”, a spell that would repel any unfriendly action. Seven medicine women had developed this particular seal, and it was widely believed to be invincible. But Lorsoul said he could break it, and that made an attack on the castle possible.
The rebels met in Kat Giles’ field on a cool spring night on April 18th, 1058. Lorsoul broke the seal at midnight, so the attack itself was on the 19th. The Castle guards were entirely unprepared, and when over two thousand farmers and small merchants hit the castle, they were able to overcome the guards quickly. Ilene raced to the queen’s bedroom, where the queen stood by the window with a guard. Ilene tried to decapitate the queen with her unusual weapon, essentially a sword on a staff. The queen grabbed the staff, and the guard seized Ilene. Lorsoul arrived at that moment, and by lifting his index finger killed the queen. When the other guards learned of the queen’s death they immediately surrendered.
Ilene refused to become a queen, she demanded elections to form a new government. She was elected president, and she selected her advisors from the men and women who had fought the revolution, and normal people. The rich were still rich, but much less powerful. I think I should write something else that details the revolutionary government. Overall it was agreed to be an improvement over the previous system.
But it did not last. Soon after her election, Ray began to show signs of the illness that had killed her father. For a while she was able to continue public work, but as her condition deteriorated Lorsoul began to assume more and more of her power. She heard him twist her philosophy, and when she tried to expose him by sending messengers to the public Lorsoul called them liars, and anyone would trust Lorsoul over some farmer. They were arrested and one was executed. Ilene confided in a longtime friend, Glenda Robin. Glenda had moved to Olyin prior to the revolution, but returned to Dailon to help care for Ray when she became ill. Ray told Robin that Lorsoul would seize power and become worse than the monarchy. The day before she died, Ray told Glenda that the illness would kill her soon, and that Lorsoul had to be exposed before he took complete control. Glenda agreed to do so. But there was someone listening at the door, Lorsoul's secretary, Martin Benbilt. As Glenda left, Benbilt followed in the shadows. “Make it look like an accident,” Those were his instructions.
A healer going to see Ray found the body, twisted and cold, at the bottom of the stairs. Lorsoul entered Ilene’s room looking sad, and informed her of Glenda’s death. Ilene told him that she knew he was responsible, and that she wouldn’t pretend to like him any more . Lorsoul smiled and told her that he didn’t want to wait for the illness to kill her any longer.
The next day, Lorsoul stood on the castle balcony and addressed the crowd below him. He said that Ilene had died in the night, that he would take power for the sake of stability, and that Dailon would henceforth be known as Loren, a name of revolution.

Name: Anastasia
Age: 23
Race: Elven
Occupation: Princess turned slave (human trafficking)
Residence: Was Dalion now she doesn't have a permanent home.
History: Anastasia lived in royalty, she was and still is a princess. But when the downfall occurred, she was taken and sold into human trafficking for her beauty. Anyone would pay a good price for a girl as beautiful and rare as her. She is now used and abused by anyone who buys her and has been drained. She used to fight back but now she doesn't have the strength.
Personality: Skittish, quiet, trust issues from being sold and abused all the time from and for men.
Appearance: Long blond thick hair that go down to the small of her back, sky blue eyes, flawless facial features that have been bruised through the years. Short and skinny, can see her ribs from starvation and now has bruises everywhere. She used to wear royal clothing but they have been torn and tattered through the years as a slave for men's own disgusting needs. Always barefoot as elves always are and lets not forget her long pointy ears.

Name: Fossil Nettles
Age: 24
Race: Half human, half elf
Appearance: Fossil is 5'7". She's not over weight or underweight, just sort of average, but obviously strongly built. Her skin is a tanned beige, her hair is dusty brown, long, and curly. Her eyes are rich brown, and pretty but not spectacular. When she's nervous or embarrassed she turns very bright red. Fossil has a big smile that nearly presses her eyes closed, and dimples you could drive a wagon through.
Occupation: Revolutionary, courier.
Residence: Home base for Fossil is the Red Leopard tree encampment, some fifty feet above ground in the redwood forests North-West of Loren. She isn't there very often or for very long though. She carries communication from spies within the Citadel to the Red Leopards. She spends a lot of time in grungy inns, safe houses, and on the street.
History: Fossil's parents were part of the rebellion 20 years ago. When it was hijacked by Lorsoul, they went into hiding. They turned from saving their kingdom to protecting their daughter. When Fossil was 17, soldiers took them away. Fossil got away, and swore to rescue them. They had had contacts in the Red Leopards so she went to the rebel group. She joined them believing it to be the best way to free her parents. Not long after she learned that they had been killed. This news made her membership in the Red Leopards less of a personal mission and more of a group effort. She became more cooperative with her allies but also a lot more depressed.
Personality: Fossil is an extrovert, and she needs to be to maneuver through all the people she needs to make a good impression on to survive a mission. She tends to suppress her emotions, and then unintentionally release them at someone who's trying to help her. Since her parent's death Fossil has had a bit of an "I need to save everyone" attitude. It's impractical and painful because in the capacity of her missions she rarely can.
Anything else important?: Like all Red Leopards, Fossil was given a locket full of poison when she joined the Red Leopards. Unlike most of them, she lost it. She was too embarrassed to get a new one, and cocky enough to assume she'd never be caught.

Name: Lewin Eraffen
Age: 28
Race: roughly 70% human, 30% troll

Appearance: Handsome face with neatly trimmed beard, and semi-long, wavy chestnut hair. Grey eyes. 5'11", athletic build. Tends to wear elaborate robes in brown, geen, and white tones, under a steel cuirass elaborately carved. Leather boots and gloves, with steel plates. Also wears a number of satchels and pouches, as well as his bastard sword, Mincer.

Occupation: Spellblade, bounty hunter, freelance enchanter.

Residence: Nomadic

History: Growing up in a tribal village in the mountains, Lewin is of a bloodline of troll-blooded humans with a particular talent for enchantments and primal magic. Being a village consisting entirely of troll-blooded humans, Lorsoul's attempt at eradicating trolls meant the village soon came under attack, forcing the members of the tribe to disperse. Ever the adventurer, Lewin struck out as a freelancer at 17. He worked a lot for the local regime as a bounty hunter, making sure the locals turned a blind eye to his magic abilities, but has in recent years grown disillusioned by the prospect of wealth and influence from such work. He has also run into a number of slavers, and their clumsy attempts to capture him has led to him having an aversion to slavery. Consequently, he has chosen to throw in his lot with the rebels, to get both morally and financially gratifying employment. Therefore, he now travels the reaches of Loren, trying to find the Liberated Pen, and get in contact with someone in the resistance.

Personality: Suave and uncompromising, realtively cold and morally apathetic, but has a loathing for the slave trade and a compassion for the enslaved that borders on overbearing. Any resistance is met either by cunning coercion or brute force. Loyal, in his own way, to the contract, he will not turn away from his mission until it is completed, regardless of whatever incentive he has to do so. He's curious by nature, and is at his friendliest and most forthcoming when he is fascinated or impressed. Motto: "Credit where credit is due - and I will have my dues."

Abilities: As an enchanter, he can enhance all manner of items in various ways, given the right reagents. His spells specialize in "friendly target" enhancements, primarily enhancing his own physical abilities, but he also knows healing (and has indeed earned quite a lot of gold with it) and a few offensive spells highly effective against dark creatures. Beyond this, he has a few very simple spells that are essentially non-reagent, temporary, simple enchantments (like floating balls of light). Is an excellent swordsman. His general abilities are beyond normal humans, though some particularly heroic or otherwise impressive individuals would provide a tough challenge.

Name: Mezmoriia Kebrit (among others)
Age: 33
Race: Human
Appearance: Prim and proper, perhaps severe. Formal gowns, often in red or black, and sharp makeup designed to emphasize a face defined by angles and edges. A smile comes unnaturally to her; when one does, it does not make anyone feel at ease. She resembles the longsword she carries - precise, beautiful in a dangerous sort of way, and made to the finest of tolerances.

There's a very pragmatic reason for this, and that's that it's easy enough to drop when a disguise is needed. If you're on the lookout for such an eye-catching person, someone with her hair down and dressed for a summer festival isn't likely to look similar. This is a useful talent for an inquisitor.
Occupation: Inquisitor, military commander, player of the long game
Residence: One of Lorsoul's military outposts in Loren, or wherever needed.
History: The revolution will not be civilized! Any means necessary for victory is permissible. If that means redefining "victory", then so be it - the local equivalent of Machiavelli, it seems, was influential to her. And so, when the rebellion changed from liberation to a different tyranny, she threw her lot in with the strongest. And hey, he makes the trains run on time.

Her talents are as a spymaster. In the pre-Lorsoul regime, she attracted the attention of a garrison commander for whom she was a scullery maid - for a twelve-year-old, she knew much of chess, and when he saw her playing he realized there was potential there. As the revolution picked up steam, she decided it in line with her interests to defect. It failing or her being caught would mean her execution, but success could, and did, lead to a higher posting.

The question now is if her loyalties actually lie with Lorsoul, or elsewhere. She knows things about resistance activity she doesn't let on. He knows she knows, and she knows he knows she knows. Does he buy the reason she gives - that her plans are very subtle, and the fewer who know them the better? It's certainly true, but for whose benefit are they, really?
Personality: Icy. Everything is a computation, an algorithm or heuristic that dictates if an plan of action is viable. That is the only metric. Humanity is irrelevant except to exploit - nothing is true; everything is permitted.

And yet she can act. Good cop, bad cop is a well-established routine, and it's fantasy equivalent, presumably likewise. Putting on a face of caring for someone is very much a tool in her arsenal, be it to get information, into a place, out of danger, or near a target. Some who thought of her as a close friend have found out who she truly is years later, followed shortly by how brutal she can be with a blade.

It's almost hard sometimes to believe someone could be that duplicitous. Maybe, in the quiet moments the moon illuminates for owls and poets, she wishes things were otherwise. It's best not to ask.

Name: Dandelion 'Danni' Tamm
Age: 17
Race: Wind nymph
Appearance: Danni's tall and willowy features give him a gangly appearance, accentuated by his playful facial features. He is 6'0" even, the only indicator that he is older than 14. He has caramel coloured skin, with a prominent dusting of silver over top, giving him a shimmering appearance in certain light. His eyes are wide like a child's, full of adventure and high spirits, the irises a vibrant, startling green, accentuated by the shaggy mess of wavy sandy hair that falls into his eyes and just below his ears, which are tapered at the edges in wind nymph fashion. His nose is sloped, with a somewhat sharp tip, and slightly upturned. A band of silvery freckles adorn the bridge of his nose before fading out over his cheekbones. Danni rarely frowns, as more often than not a wide grin adorns his face. His hand are torn and scarred, though they are often out of sight because of his standard issued gauntlets.
Danni wears the standard armour for the military and wears a bow and quiver of arrows made of incredibly fine wood, easily his most prized possession. Most pieces of the outfit are too large for him, the helmet often slipping in to his eyes. Outside of this gear he would often be seen wearing earthen colours and balloon pants, as well as a bright red bandana that sweeps his bangs back, out of his eyes.
Occupation: Former mine worker, currently in the army
Residence: No permanent home, is currently posted in Loren.
History: Danni was born in a PoW camp that specialized in mining workers until they died. He easily would have been killed, if one of the soldiers in the camp hadn't shown companion for the babe and his mother, sneaking the two food and goat's milk to survive. Despite this, Danni was a happy child who rarely cried qnd would only protest when taken from his mother. Through this strain of luck in his personality, he was spared, and raised to the age of six before he had to work in the mines. He worked hard, not quite understanding why he or his mother was in th camp. No one bothered to explain to him what was going on in the outside world. This was simply the life he had, so he decided to make the best of what he had. He befriended many, soldiers and prisoners alike, through his light hearted ideals and fondness for pranks. Soon he grew restless, longing to leave the camp and explore the world, a common condition of flighty wind nymphs. This was the first time, at the age of 10, that he discovered he couldn't leave the mine of his own free will. He began plotting his escape, begging other prisoners for help and becoming suspicious of the suddenly menacing soldiers that made him and his mother toil.
At the age of 12, he and his mother were working in a particularly dangerous part of the mine, that promptly collapsed, crushing Danni's mother under rocks and blocking the escape. He was left in the dark for hours, the only twisted comfort his mother's outstretched hand, which peeked out from the pile of stone. It was the first time in his life that he had felt so trapped and unhappy, crying and throwing himself on the rocks in a vain attempt to escape.
He was rescued, though forseeably his mother was not alive. This burnt a strong sense of claustrophobia into Danni, and he began refusing to work in the mines, thrashing and shouting. Now being more trouble than he was worth, the soldiers decided to execute him publicly, as an example. However, one soldier, the one who had fed him and his mother, smuggled the boy out of the camp with great difficulty, and so Danni was saved.
Now at age 13, and under wide open sky, Danni was happy again. He travelled far and wide, unperturbed by the fact he had no money, and that his only possessions were the clothes on his back, a rock, and a red bandana that had been his mother's.
His wish for adventure and greatness not conquered, he found himself at a soldier's compound, begging for work. At first they had him only running errands and cleaning weapons and armour, he worked up the ranks, and became a soldier. He didn't particularly know who he was fighting for, or why, he only knew that now, if he were to comfront the soldiers at that camp, he possibly had a chance to defeat them, and liberate the other prisoners. He is still a scapegoat for his fellow soldiers' pranks, and finds that the army does not satisfy his longing for adventure. He has never been trained in his abilities as a wind nymph, though, not to his knowledge, it does affect his bow and arrow skills, giving him an incredibly true aim.
Personality: Danni is best expressed as curious, oblivious, and adventurous. He knows little of the affairs of the world, and has a terrible memory for those kinds of political facts. He figures that the only side he's on is his own, and through that is a very carefree person. He loves to laugh and play pranks, but will not shirk from a real fight.
Anything else important: Danni suffers from claustrophobia. Any space smaller than a few metres with no forseeable view of the outside will trigger a fit of absolute terror.

Name: Marcellus Crow
Age: 23
Race: Nearly full-blooded troll
Appearance: Crow is relatively tall at 5'11" with an unassuming build. Not particularly muscular, skinny or overweight, he could be described as average. He has shock white wavy hair that he keeps about ear length, with bangs that reach his brow when not swept to the side. His eyes are purple but could be mistaken for brown. He wears fairly standard clothing, with the exception of a hooded grey cloak with many pockets down into the inside that he keeps on at all times. He keeps a rapier on his hip, and daggers hidden in various places in his clothing.
Occupation: Information broker, private investigator, interrogator
Residence: Nomadic, generally stays in inns or lodgings provided by clients
History: Marcellus Crow was born to a troll tribe that excelled in magic pertaining to the mind. When the revolution occurred he was a mere toddler, and his tribe very narrowly escaped extermination by erasing people's memories of their existence and disbanding. Until he was fifteen Marcellus traveled with his parents under the guise of a family of bards, learning the art of manipulation memory and emption in secret until his parents were found out by soldiers loyal to Lorsoul. His parents killed before his eyes, Marcellus lashed out in a fit of arcane fury, destroying the soldiers minds and leaving them in a catatonic state. Since that day he had been extremely wary of his power, and even more so of other people's knowledge of it. For three years he traveled with a band of street performance, learning slight of hand and knife-work from them. Eventually setting off on his own, Marcellus began to use his abilities to learn things others could not, and selling these secrets to whoever payed highest; as such he has come to have some level of of respect and awe in certain unsavory circles, known simply to many as Crow. Marcellus holds a grudge against Lorsoul and those loyal to him, but no particular loyalty to the Red Leopards; to him, they are just another client. He has on multiple occasions used his wealth of information to bring about the downfall of a noble or military officer who involved themselves in hunting trolls.
Personality: Marcellus is, in a word, a sociopath. Since the incident with his parents and reducing ten-odd soldiers to vegetables, he's almost entirely cut off most of his emotions in order to keep his abilities in check and unnoticed. Any morals or ethics he appears to subscribe to are solely a matter of whim and convenience. Occasionally he shows flashes of unexpected compassion, but soon returns back into his cold hard shell. He is introverted, but not unskilled in the subtleties of conversation, diplomacy, and manipulation. When under extreme duress his emotions may resurface, but so too does his chaotic power.
Abilities: By touching someone Marcellus can read, manipulate, and even erase a person's memories. He can also, to a certain degree, influence the emotions of anyone within a few meters of him. When he is under extreme stress (such as the threat of imminent death) the range and power of these abilities drastically intensify, but he becomes almost entirely unable to control them, his power running wild at the whim of his exploding emotions. He is skilled at slight of hand, and is more agile than he looks. He is skilled in swordplay, but not incredibly so; his real forte in combat is knife fighting and throwing. However, he prefers to avoid violence when possible, instead using blackmail and manipulation to guide a conflict from the shadows.

Name: Lieutenant Haeftin Plitz, usually referred to by superiors as Plitz.
Age: 28
Race: Blast Nymph
Appearance: Haeftin has a youthful appearance, with bright amber eyes and neatly combed red hair. He has a few freckles splattered on his face, and his skin seems permanently flushed or sunburned. It's not, he's just a blast nymph. He's a little short for a nymph. He is perpetually in uniform, it has been joked that he has an identical uniform for sleeping in. His posture is stiff and military, and his movements precise.
Occupation: Adjutant to Mezmoriia Kebrit
Residence: Various military installations, wherever Mezmoriia is.
History: Drafted into the military when he was 16, Haeftin was never expected to do anything particularly interesting. It didn't help that he never showed much knack for fighting. His break came when his platoon was sent to quash an attack on another military installation. He was told to hold back, to not get in the way. It was lucky for his allies that he did. Reinforcements came to aide the rebels. There were enough well armed fighters to take out the platoon. So Haeftin set fire to the building where the fighting was happening. The soldiers evacuated, unknowingly retreating from superior forces. Thanks to Haeftin, his entire platoon survived what would have been a blood bath. His superiors were impressed. They couldn't really put him in battle, but he had potential of some sort. At the same time, a young woman was being rapidly promoted, and needed an assistant to ease her increasingly important work load. Haeftin was chosen, and since then has been Mezmoriia's faithful adjutant.
Personality: While he swore an oath to Lorsoul, Haeftin is really only loyal to Mezmoriia. And he is very loyal. Mezmoriia, largely for her effectiveness and speedy rise to power, is his hero. Haeftin is perpetually positive. It can be extremely disconcerting to prisoners when he assists in interrogation. He has a bright smile for any ally. He likes to play with fire, and has gotten better at using it in combat.
Anything else important?: