Ansellus Ollineau the Legend of the Battlefield, Harvester of Dreams

Title History

Role

Chapter 3

Ansellus has met others involved with Ardenwood and has learned more points
of view but little facts. His takes on each and how they have shaped his
actions:
Gandrettia - she shares his last name. His instincts say to trust
her, though he cannot imagine how he and a storm giant can share a surname
Umbrand - he has no memory specifics, yet he persists in calling Ansellus and
the others his little bugs. This causes extreme distrust and suspicion in
Ansellus. He believes Umbrand means well now, but also does not trust the man
he was. Veldren - seems like he had a more natural reaction to this whole
thing (likely because he and Ansellus both blame magic). Beyond that, no
warmth or anything more.
Ehrlon - the constant checking on Ansellus feels like re-opening of an old
wound, and done simply to inflict pain. The fact that random others involved
seem to back Ehrlon up that it was not magic that scared Ansellus is more
enraging. His claims that the Ardenwood incident can be blamed on a god feel
desperate and untrue to Ansellus, for why would a god care?

Of the others, Ansellus mistrusts Tribunal, independent of the Village
position on the Spire. He has resentment that Seantryn was a Spire guarded
city and they let this happen. He knows they don't actually care about law,
only power and the 'blood' part of 'Blood Tribunal'. Vrimold is
hiding something.

Personally, Ansellus is starting to feel numb to the weight of his visible
scar, and yet more burdened by his mental scars. This interplay of flaws (as
he sees them) has galvanized him to seek out Daphedee as a patron for his
worship. He does not know how to be religions but has resolved to seek her
out and act on instinct from there.

He is proud of getting into the Village and draws some comfort that he chose
a path of helping others over fully embracing his inner anger and being a
berserker. The tender part of him hopes this leads to some internal healing,
but that is not yet a conscious line of thought for Ansellus.

Role

Chapter 2

He would never forget the next memory of that accursed puddle, or the
hideously marred face staring back at him from its broken, mirrored surface.
Thank the gods his hair and eyes were left, but his face, oh did he remember
the pain of seeing its oozing, dappled scarring.

He didn't even remember how he got to the puddle, though he did have a vague
memory of snapping at a man who'd taunted him - in a tavern? He remembered
seeing the cowled wizard regarding him thoughtfully, and hating the feeling.
He thought the man was a wizard, at least. Who else wore cowls? The more he
thought of it, the angrier he became. What else could take his memory and
leave him with such an unhealing wound but Magic?

Hazy again. Next he remembered the young couple canoodling in the forested
shadows near the old Rhegma temple. He remembered all too clearly their
attempted kindness and offer to find a healer, but he was overwhelmed by
jealousy. At their happiness, at the young mans beauty. A beauty he could
never have for himself, could scarcely hope to find in another lover.

No, love was lost to him. He was bitter. If his dream of love could not be
his, he could at least have his dream of being a warrior. And why stop at
joining a guild? There was a tribe of the finest warriors in the land, more
story than anything in recent years. Yet he remembered hearing not only of
their unmatched prowess, but of their undying quest to end magic.

That appealed to him. He wanted to channel his bitterness and scorn into
something real. He wanted to beat the abstract mage, to invalidate their
right to exist just as his past and beauty had been invalidated. And he
wanted to be good at it. He wanted to Win. So he moved to the dusty frontier
town of Tir-Talath to be far from his past and to embrace his future.

He didn't have a grand plan, but he had ideas. Embrace his warrior training.
Find the Battleragers and prove his worth. As he set out toward the academy
and his future, he couldnt help remembering the jagged surface of that
puddle, the vision staring back at him very much as one he would see in a
Broken Looking Glass.

Role

Chapter 1

What most take for granted, Ansellus lacks. Knowledge of his drow and human
parents, knowledge of his birthplace. Even assurance that Ansellus is his
birth name, or whether Ollineau is even a family. All absent thanks to the
curse. No, he found out his mixed parentage one night, sneaking out of the
dormitory into the Rose Room, one of the reading rooms of Ardenwood Manor.

The dusty orphanage was sequestered on a forgotten side-street not far from
the Empress' garden in Seantryn Modan. It was full of eclectic art and
artifacts, gaudy treasures, mysterious scrolls. He was not supposed to handle
any of it, but the mithril sword on the wall called to him and rules always
felt more like guidelines to Ansellus. He had always admired the city guards
and their long swords, thick-hafted polearms and stinging whips, and fancied
himself a future warrior. Placing his hand on the mithril blade revealed a
deep sting, though the fact that he could hold it proved he was not full
drow, as did the pesky stubble he dimly remembered shaving constantly.

The place had residents of all races. Elf, duergar, some human. Ansellus
remembered them vaguely, but as individuals - their racial identities or
inherited tendencies to light and dark did not move him. He didnt care
about the abstract of good or evil, it was action that defined the person.
Nor did he mind the place or its communal living, though he often stole away
at night to be with his lover and companion, Ehrlon. He recalled having
memories of their nights together, but nothing clear remained. Only the vague
feelings of fondness and love. The specifics only started that night he saw
Ehrlon being led by the hand from the burning hulk of the old warehouse. All
gets hazy again then.

Immortal Comments

PK Gank-O-Meter

PK Statistics

Skill List

Skill List

Arena Statistics

PK Wins

PK Deaths

Leveling History

Timeline

Mob Deaths

Edges

Flaws

Racial Edges

Class Edges

Edges