Armistan - the sellsword with a purpose

Armistan - Warrior / Knight

"In life, there can only be kings and pawns. Which are you?"

The man called Armistan arrived discreetly from the continent of Kolydia some months ago. Offering his services as a mercenary to the mayor of Logar he quickly made his way to the capitol. Little is known about Armistan's life before coming to Candara and he tends to dismiss any questions as seemingly irrelevant.

As chance would have it, the sellsword's path crossed with a member of Apatia, Meine. The priest offered Armistan a regular place to stay within the impressive guild castle and some days later the papers were signed. Apatia now had a new member, even if he still held some reservations about the whole ordeal.

"Whether it be for better or worse, I've aligned myself with your cause. Deal with it."

Many find Armistan's presence unnerving and the man hard to deal with. Tall and athletic, with his polished armour and serious approach to all things, he can make weak-minded individuals fall in line, but often creates conflicts when encountering large egos. In bright contrast to this callous manner, Armistan is well versed in proper etiquette and has a good understanding of social protocol, for when he wishes to use them.

Even with all this apparent bravado, the mercenary seems to approach most situations cautiously, finding out as much as possible before deciding on a course of action. Thus far, he is yet to be seen outside his quarters without a weapon on his belt.

"Before you say anything else, tell me one thing. Do you have any enemies I should know about?"

For the most part contracted elsewhere, offering his services for coin or to further other goals, Armistan spends little time in Varanas. When in town, he can often be found at the forge, making repairs and adjustments to his various suits of armour or walking about the Administrative district, entering or leaving the Eye of Wisdom headquarters there.

While Armistan may seem like the sort that prefers to work alone, there must be some need for solidarity in the depths of his soul or he wouldn't have joined Apatia. The man has no problem teaming with others when the situation warrants it, unless his authority is questioned.

"You ask for my help? A wise choice. Now, follow me."

[This note was left on Andraliel's desk at the early hours of morning]

I regret to inform you that I must depart. There is no time for long farewells, but I did have a chance to put my things in order and the construction workers from house August should arrive within the week to finish construction of the fountain. Hopefully that will bring some calm into the storm that might be coming. I suggest you hire a new guardsman for our castle as soon as possible.

Do not try to contact me, you would only waste your time. I will see you again once I am no longer hunted, if all goes according to plan. Yet, we never know what the future holds and I might as well never return.

Take care of Apatia for me, Andraliel.
Your friend,
-Armistan

[This piece of paper has been stored in the Bank of Varanas for safekeeping, but can be viewed by respective members of the community who claim to have business with one 'Armistan of the House of August' or those with enough gold and tact to bribe a clerk.]

To those it may concern,

This document and the seal embedded within verify one master Armistan as an envoy of the Royal Trading House August of Kolydia.
He has been empowered with the procedural capacity to use funds, make trading agreements, sponsor expeditions and enforce embargoes in the good name of House August.

Should he be charged with any transgressions applicable under Kolydian Royal Law he is to be treated as an honoured member of a trading family. However, any Candaran official reporting such events to House August are quaranteed compensation according to standard informant incentive rates.

Signed,
Trade Baron Gerhart August of Kolydia

[as mentioned, a gilded seal of the House in clearly visible underneath the text to insure authenticity.]

Night has descended upon the provincial city of Static Lathrofea, yet light can be seen from a top window on one of the taller houses.

Inside, flames from the fireplace cast long shadows offset only by a small oil lamp, placed to illuminate various parchments and books. "Lord" Armistan is pacing around the room, his extravagant jacket cast aside and puffy shirt-sleeves rolled up. He stops, leans over the table to cross reference some final numbers and freezes. There has been no mistake.

In an uncharacteristic fit of anger and frustration Armistan slams his fist down, the hard mahogany surface wailing with a crack. The man slumps down on his tall chair to rub the injured hand. Servants, knowing better than to disturb him, slink out of the room leaving Armistan with his thoughts.

He had over-reached his grasp and now paid the price. This venture did seem risky from the start, if only there had been time to accompany the convoy in person. What sort of caravan guards fall prey to mere skeletons? Well, he could always fall back on old foundations. Armistan's eyes turn towards his sword, mounted atop the fireplace. But perhaps he need not reach quite so far back. After all, there are still those old allies... His eyes turn calm as Armistan starts to form a plan.