Character Profile: Ceralin de Roisin

For Walter de Roisin, life was good. A proud member of the Altair United Guard in the flush of his youth, the young soldier achieved a small degree of renown amongst his fellows. Although always a soldier at heart, de Roisin eventually left the Guard for the less stimulating but more reliable field of mercantilism. The de Roisin family, while never attaining the same level of fame and notoriety as Altair's more illustrious names, had a proud history in its own right, and Walter had inherited a modest tract of land from an obscure relative. Upon his honorable retirement from the Guard, at a still young age, he married his sweetheart, Rosalind Venstrom. After a few years working at his newfound trade, de Roisin had managed to turn his land into a reasonably prosperous wheat farm. Although de Roisin never regretted his decision to become a wheat merchant, he could never forget his glory days in the Guard, and when Rosalind became pregnant, he harbored a hope that the child would be a son (whom he intended to name Ceralac, after his father) to carry on the family name in the defense of Altair.

Rosalind went into labor in the dead of winter. It was an excruciatingly difficult birth, and despite the best efforts of the midwives in attendance, there was nothing that could be done to save her. Though heartbroken at the tragic news, de Roisin nevertheless asked that he be allowed to see his newborn child. Already stricken at the loss of his beloved wife, his first sight of the infant was too much for de Roisin. For the baby was female. With an unreadable expression upon his face, de Roisin announced that the child was to be called Ceralin. He then retired to his quarters and would not speak with anybody for some three days.

Walter's relationship with his daughter was always a confusing one. On the one hand, he could not help but blame Ceralin for the death of his adored Rosalind, and in his daughter, he saw the shadow of the son that never was. Accordingly, there were stretches of time during which de Roisin would all but ignore the little girl. On the other hand, Ceralin represented all that was left of Rosalind (she did resemble her mother a great deal), and she was his only child. During these times, Walter became a truly devoted father, and, as he had no son to whom he could teach such skills, began training young Ceralin in the art of weaponry.

To everyone's surprise, the mere slip of a girl took to battle like a fish to water. She was highly adept in most all types of weaponry, but most especially the blade. Walter could not help developing a deep respect for his daughter's skills, and he eventually ceased ruing that she was not a boy. In fact, when she reached the appropriate age, de Roisin presented Ceralin as a candidate for admission into the United Guard. With her talents and spunk, she was a sure-fire choice, and it was not long before a seasoned Knight of the United Guard, Sir Ulrich, offered to take the girl on as his squire, recognizing in her great potential. It was a proud day for Ceralin, and from then on, she strove to faithfully uphold her vow to defend Altair in her hour of need.

Then came the siege of Altair.

Perhaps if they had been forewarned, the Guard would have been able to hold off the advancing swarms of Fire Legion soldiers, at least for a little while. As it was, they were taken almost entirely by surprise, and in a flaming maelstrom of confusion and blood, the Guard's units were neatly dispatched. Ceralin became separated from Ulrich at some point during the fray; the last she ever saw of him was her master swinging a sword about his head as two orc footsoldiers pulled at his stirrups, attempting to drag the knight from his horse. As the battle raged about her, Ceralin began to feel a cold, numbing sensation which was unfamiliar to her: fear. Fighting back shaking hands and a bad taste in her mouth, Ceralin ineffectively tried to steer her mount back towards the fray, hoping to find Ulrich, but it was a losing fight against both her horse and her fear.

It was at this point that the wall behind which a portion of the Guard had been regrouping exploded in a shower of flame and shards of rock as wave upon wave of Fire Legion troops began to spill into the tortured city. Leading the horde of soldiers, which began tearing her comrades to pieces was an especially tall, barbarous looking orc. He slowly swiveled his head, surveying his victory, and it seemed to Ceralin that his eyes locked with hers, and for that brief instant, she foresaw her own death. And in the moment that she was to regret every day thereafter, Ceralin dug her heels into the side of her mount and bolted in the opposite direction. She was able to reach the edge of the city unscathed, the Fire Legion was too busy to concern themselves with one fleeing girl. And so she escaped Altair, tortured in mind and spirit, having left her comrades to almost certain destruction. . . . . but she was at least alive.

From there, Ceralin traveled south with no particular destination in mind, just so long as it wasn't Altair. She survived by hiring herself out as a bodyguard or soldier from time to time. Those who initially laughed at the idea of an 18-year-old girl as a hired sword soon lost their skepticism after witnessing her in action. After two long years of uncertain living, Ceralin found her way to the village of Haven, a refugee camp of sorts for the escaped citizens of Altair. There, she decided to stop and wait for her next adventure to come her way.