Sylvester Archipelago

Gordian sat in a chair at his estate, slowly sipping wine from his private reserves. Life had certainly been a success; the portrait of an ancestor on the wall seemed to look with envy at the ancient wine flowing down the Madinian's lips.

Lately, this no-longer-young warrior found himself indulging in memories more and more often. There he was, still just a youth, alongside his equally fresh friends Julius and Marius, as they marched together, weapons in hand, to "evict" bandits from their den. His first operation; before that—only practice at the Academy of Combat Magic. The criminals put up serious armed resistance, but flawless command left them no chance. Although one recruit did perish... He died stupidly, shot by his own man with a rifle. Rifles simply had nightmare accuracy, then as now, in the dawn of such weaponry; that is why Gordian never liked firearms. Crossbows, however, were time-tested and grew better year by year—easy to repair and could be improved without effort if one's hands were steady...

A servant entered the room and asked to be dismissed: the cleaning was finished, there were no other assignments, and his pregnant wife was waiting... you see... Bruttium glared sternly at the lackey, who understood everything without words and withdrew with an apology. Servants these days—absolutely no respect, no diligence, not even a basic understanding of their duties!

He had served in the Haven Guild for a long time. His wealthy father, while understanding that Gordian was hardly at risk of starving to death, wanted his son to fulfill his duty to the Homeland to the end, as was the custom in their lineage. Julius, now, was lucky. He resigned quickly and devoted himself entirely to science. True, he was killed later... But that came later; Julius had already managed to write several books and make a name for himself as a most gifted, active, and versatile scholar. No, it wasn't like that in the Haven Guild: you lived by a schedule, stood watch by a schedule, and promotions also happened by a schedule. Although Bruttium became famous in his own way, especially among criminals. The reason was simple: no mercy. Any scum was shot on the spot; Gordian neither liked nor found it necessary to talk or educate them. For the most part, this served well, eliminating most "dangerous" situations. The superiors didn't always like it, but that was their problem if they were unable to understand obvious things.

Gordian rang the bell. Footsteps sounded on the stairs and the same servant entered the room.
-- I am listening, sir.
-- Add more wood to the fireplace. It's cold.

Once, criminals took hostages—very high-ranking individuals. They demanded the opportunity to keep their loot and leave the country freely; in exchange, the hostages would remain alive and be released at the border. Bruttium pretended to believe them, and then opened fire. The element of surprise failed: the bandits were killed, but not a single civilian survived either. The next day, Gordian was forced into retirement. Some even said he got off easy, that he wasn't put on trial... Trial for what? The hostages would have been dead anyway; those thugs know no other way. If not then, then later... And the robbers themselves would have escaped.
By that time, Gordian's father had already died. He returned to the estate and set about organizing the household: the manager had completely neglected everything and was stealing terribly... Now he was the one who got off easy: he was merely fired. For the sums that were lost, he could have been thrown in prison for a long time. But Bruttium didn't want to bother with the scoundrel, although at first he felt like strangling him. Be that as it may, the estate began to bring in a stable income again, and its owner, unable to stay within four walls for long, turned to mercenary work.

Remus, Gordian's son, entered the room. The father looked sternly at his son:
-- Need money again?
-- Yes, father, you see...
-- Gambled it away?! Or drugs? Look me in the eye!
-- I...
-- Get out! In my entire life, I never took a single setra from my father! Not one! And you... You blockhead. A disgrace to my name.
Remus bowed and silently withdrew. He knew his father would definitely give him money, but later... Was the carefree life he led not worth small periodic humiliations before an ancestor?

As a mercenary, Gordian had a surprisingly good additional income, although for the most part it wasn't about the money. He didn't take on overly suspicious work—mostly guarding or something of that sort—so in essence, Bruttium dealt with the same criminals and enemies of the Homeland as before. And, as before, he killed them without mercy, earning fame in certain circles.
Lately, after every job, Gordian invariably returned to the estate. For several weeks or months he would rest peacefully, though he didn't abandon a certain paranoia: locals had more than once seen a crossbow appearing from Bruttium's window. He himself says it is necessary caution when living in border regions...

Remus entered the room again.
-- Father, I forgot to give you a letter.
-- You touch my correspondence?
-- You were away; the servant gave it to me. I didn't open it.
A fleeting glance at the melted wax immediately refuted the last statement. "Probably thought he'd find money..."
-- Get out, so that my eyes may see you no more! -- Gordian said, taking the letter.
"From Marius. Found a job. Not very close this time, Ryjorvalia... As if I care about those maniacs!
Although... Come to think of it, why not? A walk wouldn't hurt me, stretch my bones, and in all my life I've never bothered to visit the kingdom. Why not see the world while there is still a chance?"
Bruttium set the letter on the table. "I'll think about it... Maybe I will take it."

Origin: Madinia, +10 Intelligence; additional 4 skill points and 2 talent points

Conviction: Madiism, +5 Intelligence, additional 3 skill points, 1 talent point (does not disclose their religion to anyone)

Talents and Skills:


Ranged Weapon (Crossbows)
I Proficiency with ranged weapons.
II +10 to evasion in long-range combat.
III Chance to paralyze the enemy for one turn; the next attack deals double damage (perception + critical hit chance).
IV Additional attack.
V Chance to deal triple damage to the enemy (perception).


Storm Halo
I The character's weapon gains the ability to deal additional electrical damage (will).
II A chance appears to paralyze the enemy for two turns (will + critical hit chance).
III Electrical damage increases fourfold (x3).

Assassin: attacking an unsuspecting character kills them (x3) Torn between Assassin and Leadership; can take either depending on whether we have another leader planned.
Inventor: ability to improve items, as well as create new ones if blueprints are available (x2)

Characteristics:
Constitution: 15
Intelligence: 15 +10 +5 = 30
Strength: 10
Dexterity: 10
Speed: 15
Will: 25
Perception: 25

Character Summary: nicknamed "Thunderbolt" for his tactical specialty of hitting with a crossbow bolt charged with electricity. Prefers "sniper" tactics—attacking from cover.

Equipment: improved crossbow, bolts, minimal set of tools and a crossbow blueprint, short sword a-la gladius, supplies: flask of good wine, tea (or an equivalent available in the world of Nebka), hardtack. And yes, some amount of money.