Urominiel Family

House Urominiel

Members of this house have transversed the continents looking for whatever it is warriors, nobles, knights, mentors, bureaucrats, traitors, civil servants, bounty hunters, patriots, rogues, traders, assassins, merchants, bards and the sorts look for.

Fame

Categorized to leave out exact details so not to spoil your fame hunting fun.

• Prestige-6/8
• Government Positions-9/9
• Local Positions-4/4
• Tournaments-4/4
• Class specific-6/?
• Wealth-3/3
• Construction-4/?
• Skills?-4/?
• Other-5/?
• Total Discovered-45/52

Active Nobles

None, the once renown family has faded into mediocrity any remaining members of the family line taken to the life of minor nobility.

Deceased or Retired

Hithithil

Realms:Falasan, Greater Aenilia, Principality of Zonasa, Old Grehk, Pian en Luries, and many more.
Positions: None Currently: Deceased, died in incident involving a pumpkin and a hippopotamus.

Tales of the Blade

The foothills of Nazgorn have been his home since his childhood and no one knew the region better than he did. Knowing precisely where each stone lay, he walked the untainted pass that lead into the mountains, rarely used by the common traveler. Ahead on the sunlit path flanked by tall wild grasses, barely visible stood the small stone slab; The unmarked grave of his father. He was a masterful assassin, or so his mother had told him. Hithithil stood in front of the headstone, his dark hair dredged over his angular face. After a few moments, he knelt on both knees, his slim figure digging away at the dirt with his dagger. That dagger that he carried, with the blade that never dulls and the stench of blood soaked into the hilt, was one of the two things left to him by his father. His only weapon, left by the father he never knew, but yet he carried it with him always. At the sound of his dagger striking wood, Hithithil stopped and brushed aside the dirt revealing a half buried ornate chest. He looked at it for a moment, if only to ensure himself that it was still there, then pushed the dirt back over-top. He lifted himself up from his spot, fingering the key around his neck. Covering up any signs of him ever having been there Hithithil followed the path back that he came. There was a bounty on monsters skulls and with his dagger, the only item of any value on his body he would make a name for himself.

Tales of the Blade con't

Years had passed and through numerous trials and tribulations Hithithil was ready to once again return to the foothills of Nazgorn. Tinwe trotted over the soft earth with each moment bringing his master closer to the intrigue that lay hidden. The mountain path was just as he had remembered it being untouched since the last time he visited. But the vivid sun no longer charted his course amongst the path flanked with grass. The gray clouds hung like an infinite ceiling stretching to the edge of the world. Their motion silent and fluid like all that moved around him. As he neared the headstone the thumping in his chest grew. Hithithil dismounted his faithful beast of burden and tied the reins around a small tree. This was unlike any other time before it, but none the less he still had to dig for his prize. He worked through the dirt with his fathers blade until he heard the familiar sound of it striking wood. Hithithil unearth the small ornate chest and placed it on the ground beside him. He slipped the key from around his neck and carefully fitted it into place.

The weather had deteriorated and the first drops of rain began to fall. His world became a monotone wash of grays as he lifted the lid. The pounding of his chest and moved up to his ears. So the rumours were true, his father was indeed as his mother had mentioned. Hithithil examined the contents of the small chest: a small dagger, a locket, a signet ring, three sacks of fine and course powder, and a few scraps of paper. He quickly looked over the papers unwilling to let his treasure be tarnished by the drizzle. A creed of some sort, a bounty list, some letter of an emerald order, an execution notice and a draw of the human form with notes scribbled onto it. Hithithil quickly tucked the letters back into chest and it into the pocket of his cloak. He threw the hood over his now dripping hair as he lifted himself off the dirt. He brushed soil into the vacated hole and left the site as if he had never been there. He cut the reins to free the horse before he himself left the path into the mountains. It was no longer safe for him here, but one day he would return to tie up some loose ends.

Myths and Legends

...Somewhere in Ornaz...

The dried timber weighted down on his shoulders and he trudged through the snow pack. It was then when his keen ears over heard a nobleman asking about the Emerald Order. He slowed his pace to pick up on most of the conversation. It had been some time since the last noble came looking for the order. Many who sought it in its later years, sought to destroy it. The woodsman kept to his path his eyes facing forward as he past them never hinting that he was more informed on the subject than most.

His log home was simple, built at the edge of a clearing. Leaving his days work on the pile with the others he entered, greeted by the scent of supper from the kitchen. The overheard conversation still fresh in his mind, he meandered over to an old worn chest. Opening it revealed a weathered moss cloak and a brilliantly designed sheath and sword. Brushing his hand over the woven fibers he reminisced of the days of old; traveler of the far east, guardian of the empire and protector of its people. Although few in number since the fall of the empire, they persisted, challenging all who brought injustice to their lands. Commoners praised them, nobles feared them, and kings found them meddlesome. And over the years as the guild halls disappeared so too did the phantom guardians of the south.

The woodsmen let the lid of the wooden chest fall back to conceal the past. His time wandering the continent was over. He had a home and a warm meal to return to. Who was this young noble trying to dig up the past. The story of the old empire was becoming one of myths and legends.

Cecelle

Realms:Greater Aenilia, Suville.
Positions: None Currently: Retired, Trading somewhere

Celegam and Ellewen Frantically searched Topenah city, "Cecelle!" they called. "Where could have that child gotten off to, shes a young women now, she cant just go running around the streets everytime we are in a city, has she no etiquette. I did not mind when she was younger and wanted to play with the boys and their wooden swords, I just thought she would have grown out of it by now." Celegam reassured Ellewen as they continued their search through the city streets.

Eithad

Realms:Arcaea, Melhed.
Positions: None Currently: Retired, on a ship somewhere

Swallowed by the Sea

Eithad was still bitter that he had to pay for the passage to Hatdhes, afterall he was quartermaster of the last ship before it was lost in the waves. Now he was penniless freshly arrived on the docks of a battered city, his only possessions the cloths on his back. How he longed for a bottle of rum at that moment. Eithad had spent far too much time on land for his liking and standing on the docks only further reminded him of that; the wooden caskets rocking in the waves just beckoning for a crew to unfurrow their sales. But he did not have a crew, nor the means to find one. He was reduced to a common begger, surviving on what the streets give him each day. Oh how he longed for the bounty of the seas, where he took what he could and gave nothing back. That is until a weeks ago, what the seas have given him the waves have taken away. But that is her unforgiving nature and only the most cunning survive. The same could be said for the streets of the city if not for the laws and militiamen. This would be a new challenge to test his wits.

Though winter had past, her presence still lingered and each night she visited him with her icy caress. On most occasions he could have the company of a warm fire and a full flagon, but tonight he was less fortunate. On this night, Eithad drifted in and out of sleep. He felt every stone and every divet as the mule cart trolled the uneven path. His exhaustion entangled him in lucid dreams while the frigid fingers of the nights breath snared him from them. Often he turned, shifting around in the pile of straw trying to preserve the warmth with the hide of wolf that was just a hair too small to serve this purpose. But fatigue frequently overtook him as his body simply craved for respite.

The night drew on, with every creak of the axle and every sliver of moonlight that penetrated the trees. But soon these would be replaced by the first rays of dawn and his destination, however temporary. Eithad stumbled off the back of the cart using every ounce of strength he had in him to keep himself upright and his eyes wide. He slung his possessions over a shoulder and carried his keg of beer, which he "found" foraging, in full embrace as he waddled into the city. His objectives were simple, find a bed and "find" some rum. But it wasn't long before he was waylaid by a sturdy wench offering a bath and massage. The idea of a bath was a novel one to him, having only bathed in the sea. And the idea of a "massage" intrigued him as he wasn't quite certain if it was the type he wanted, or that which he need, or perhaps even both.

Zaedric

Realms:Papania, Arcaea.
Positions: None Currently: Working as a mercenary.

First born child of Thalathafn and Adine.

Fire and Ice

It was the height of winter but no snow lay on the barren ground, only mud and frost that clung to the nearest weed. Zaedric lead his motley band of riders plucked from where he could find them, some barely able to hold a lance, but soon they would be forged into one, the extension of his power. They would be brothers in arms, a bond stronger than blood. Loyalty was all he wanted from those men, everything else can be learnt or bought.

He was eager to prove himself as a knight in his own right, having served as squire to the Duke of Topenah til the day it revolted. But no longer will he live in the shadows of his mother and step-father, they had taught him well, now it was time to prove his worth, to break free of their mould.

For too long Topenah lay in the hands of the rogues and scoundrels, it was time to restore orders to the city. He must speak with the King.

Glorawarthien

Realms: Sirion, Assassins, Plergoth, Arcaea, Svunnetland, Soliferum, Antoza Commonwealth, Grand Lodge of Lunaria, Nighthelm, Toren, Kingdom of Alluran.
Positions: Count, Battlegroup commander, Duke, Former Prime Minister. Currently: Deceased, Executed in Falasan.

The eldest son from the minor nobility family in Sirion. Glorawarthien joined the Sirion army to bring fame and glory to the Urominiel Family. However, following the death of his brother and seeing the fruits of war, Glorawarthien chose a life of infamy.

His Story

Elenaraloki

Realms:Eleador
Positions:Former Archpriest, Royal Treasurer, High Marshal, Battlegroup Commander
Currently: Deceased, died as a legendary hero on the battlements of Ashforth.

The second born of the Urominiel Family, Elenaraloki journeyed north and found a home and a family in Eleador. Following acts of bravery and heroics he quickly rosed through the ranks to become a hero of the realm. He died the way he had lived, defending the capital as hero and high marshal of Eleador.

His Story

Aralaiquendi

Realms:Abington, Antioch, Fronen, Ikalak(SWI), Ikalak(SEI), Silantin, Yssaria, Arcaea, Sirion
Positions:Former Prime Minister of Ikalak(SEI), Former Marquis
Currently: Deceased, died of old age in the family mansion in Clyderee on Atamara.

Born on Atamara, Aralaiquendi is a cousin to Glorawarthien and Elenaraloki. Like his parents, his wanderlust had lead him to many new lands and rewarded him an eventful life. He has since retired to the family mansion but occasionally dabbles in the affairs of his nieces and nephews.

Gwaethinriel

Realms:Carelia, Voghor, Sandalak(SEI), Highland Empire, Kaltaran, Sartania, Perdan, Ikalak(SEI), Vlaandaran
Positions:High Marshal Currently:Deceased, died of a mysterious illness.

Gwaethinriel, first born of Aralaiquendi, was left by her father in the care of foster parents shortly before the first invasion. Raised in the wake of the undead plague, her childhood was deprived of all the norms. Gwaethinriel developed a hatred for her father and nobility in general.

Her Story

Celegam

Realms:Arcaea, Ethiala
Positions:None Currently:Deceased, died of his wounds after a botched black market deal in Topenah.

Celegam is a son of Aralaiquendi. After the death of his mother in the stormy seas of the Far East, Celegam spent most of his childhood as an orphan. As he matured he was selected to serve as a Blade of the Patriach in Arcaea but following a serious wound he has since retired to a mundane life of trading.

His Story

Elenhir

Realms:Old Rancagua, Falasan, Yssaria, Midas Chia, Rogue, Old Grehk, Sandalak(SWI), Taselak(SEI), Ashborn, Outer Tilog, Ibladesh.
Positions:Dictator and Executor Currently:Deceased, rumoured to be seen in the Undead armies of the 4th invasion.

The first son of Elenaraloki and Nnaoj. Elenhir had been trained at a military academy since the passing of his father at an earlier age. When he became of age, he began down the path to reclaim his father's glory, a path that has since gone horribly awry.

His Story

Menelmereth

Realms:Ibladesh, Cagilan Empire, Riombara, Lasanar, Miraglonn.
Positions:Duchess and Queen Currently:Deceased, Executed in Lasanar.

Menelmereth was the first bastard child to Glorawarthien. To escape from her mother, Menelmereth had found sanctuary in the Church of Ibladesh. She had committed most of her short and uneventful time as a troop leader teaching newer nobles before meeting her ultimate end trying to bring peace to the lands.

Her Story

Thalathafn

Realms:League of Anacan, Light of Fountain, Avamar Selective, Grand Lodge of Lunaria, Lemundia, Cathay, Arcaea, Papania.
Positions:General, Banker. Currently:Deceased. Legendary Hero killed in the battle of Ossaet.

"Thalathafn, you have grown and matured it is time you hear how you came to be with us. You had always know we were not your birth parents. I found you some 15 years ago on a hunting trip in the forests south of Anacan. There was also a women there but she was seriously wounded and died shortly after. We took you in to our noble house and raised you as our own, now you are of age and your path is your own."

Younger Years

The Tales of the Locket

Family Life

Nnoaj

Realms:Sirion, Pian en Luries, Fronen, Astrum, Morek, Aquilegia.
Positions:none Currently:Deceased, assumed dead, her body was never found.

Her Story

Merilyn

Realms:Ohnar West.
Positions:None Currently:Retired, after a few years of experiencing the world.

Merilyn took in the crisp autumn air as her horse trotted over fallen foliage. Her heart drifted as freely as the clouds above. She felt a sense of anxiety but it was overcome with excitement. Nothing could ruin this day for her. She had finally stepped outside those old walls of the secluded family estate, free to explore the world outside. Her home guard stayed close by her side, they were loyal but never trained for any real combat. Fortunately for them, no combat was expected, just a peaceful journey to a new post and a new estate.

A blithe smile graced her youthful visage, and she didn't care to conceal it. She had received her first oath signifying her as a noble lady. And much to the dismay of her carers the world was now hers for the taking, though she was not quite sure what that meant. Nevertheless she indulged in the new experiences each moment would bring, stepping out of the comfortable confining cocoon of her childhood.

Annaej

Realms:Sandalak(SWI), Kingdom of Alluran, Monsters of Gilgamesh, Thalmarkin
Positions:High Marshal, Duchess, Queen, Justicar. Currently:Dead, Killed by Overlord in the battle of Winifael.

Annaej is the second child of Elenaraloki and Nnaoj, she was raised by her mother in a secluded community after the death of her father, who died before she was born. When she came of age Annaej spent a short while on the war torn south islands before emigrating to Beluaterra in the continued search for her dead brother Elenhir. She joined the young Kingdom of Alluran and quickly rose through the ranks into the realm council and lead the realm through the third invasion. In the fourth invasion Annaej was captured by Monsters and became sympathetic to her captors joining their cause as her kingdom fell. She later joined Thalmarkin to continue the war on the Daimons, she later died in the frozen north doing just that.

Her Story