Cobra's Cadre


Outhouse Poet
Name: Mallow Devers
Aliases: Mad Bear Mallow - While Mallow does not approve of the title, he doesn't deny it or stop people from using it, either.
Title(s): N/A
Role: Gladiator

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Neutral
Affiliations: Gladiators of Abaddon
Hometown: Abaddon
Relationships: Mallow is the sixth of nine brothers, and is very close with all of them. He has no other associates or living relatives.
Race: Human
Subrace: N/A
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Appearance: Standing at five ten and 165 pounds, Mallow is lean and muscled, with an average build. His black hair is shoulder length, but near always keeps it pulled tight around the back of his head. He doesn't shave often, and usually has a shaggy, unkempt beard. He cuts his hair himself with a knife, hardly adding to his overall appearance. His eyes are cat's eye green. His skin is tanned, and is broken by several ugly scars. His facial features were above average in appearance, but a broken nose, missing tooth, and a few scars detract from his otherwise decent looks. He wears little other than his combat armor, occasionally removing bulkier pieces or wearing a drab cloak.

Equipment: While proficient in a large number of weapons and armors, he has one that he usually sticks to, only changing if it would help against his opponent, given the opportunity.
  • Helmet: Mallow will wear a helmet during combat. A traditional, rounded helm with an iron facemask for protection, lined with padded cloth. He will forgo it on occasion, if he feels he needs to prove something in combat, or as a challenge.
  • Left Pauldron: A thick and heavy piece of metal protects his upper arm and shoulder during combat. It is plain and unadorned, save for a bit of rust, scratches and dents.
  • Left Vambrace: A long leather glove extending past the elbow, with hard leather affixed over, and metal plates sewn on overlapping atop it.
  • Right Arm and Chest: Straps holding on the other pieces of armor, partially functional, partially decorative. He does have a leather glove on his right hand, however, mostly for the grip.
  • Greaves: Long greaves, extending just past Mallow's knees protect his legs.
  • Sword: A gladius, single edged, slightly thinner than its double edged cousins, and slightly longer as well. Expertly crafted, the blade is one of Mallow's treasures, and is often identified with him.
  • Daggers: Hidden under his armor, and some sheathed in view, these daggers are a cross between stilettos and throwing knives, alloyed from several types of steel to be better balanced. Good for throwing at gaps in armor, or piercing them as a weapon. He generally carries close to ten daggers at a time, more if necessary.
  • Money: Aside from a pouch on his belt he wears when not in combat, Mallow keeps a few coins sewn into the lining of his armor, just in case.
  • Ring: A simple iron band, worthless by all accounts. It has a symbol carved into it, of no special significance to most. It has his name carved on the inside of the ring. All of his brothers have identical rings, albeit with their names instead.
Combat Prowess: Generally considered a master swordsman, Mallow attributes it mostly to his lack of magic, which he finds many use as a crutch. Although skilled in many types of blades, Mallow is able to use most every weapon to some degree of proficiency. His skill in armor is similar, master in lighter armors with greater freedom of movement, although poorer with medium armors such as full lamellar, and worse with heavier plates. He is skilled with throwing weapons, and the use of a shield as well.

Spells/Powers: Almost unnaturally un-gifted in magic, Mallow, as well as his family, lack a drop of magical blood in them. They do, however, have an almost uncanny sense for sensing it and its users and avoiding them and their magic, though.

Weaknesses: In relation to combat and powers, what weaknesses does your character have? This section is mandatory. Weaknesses can include both physical drawbacks and personality flaws.
While an expert with throwing weapons, Mallow lacks any skill with bows, crossbows, or any sort of long range weapon for that matter. In addition, he lacks magic whatsoever.

Mallow is bullheaded, holds a grudge, and will do anything to win a fight. He's callous and stubborn, and rarely backs down from a challenge. Conversely, he's overly cautious at times, almost to the point of paranoia. He lacks a strong sense of fear, for better or worse, and can be greatly foolhardy. Worse yet, in times of great desperation, injury, or rage, he becomes bestial and animalistic, practically unable to form coherent sentences. Part of what gained him his nickname.

In addition to his personality, he has his various vices. He enjoys alcohol, and has dabbled in other drugs on occasion. Although he loves them, he is hardly addicted.

Personality: Mallow wants to be able to say on his deathbed, "I don't want to live again - I'm already satisfied."
Mallow lives for himself, plainly. His greatest fear is having regrets about his choices, about what could have been. He compensates by making the most out of every opportunity given to him. He cares for his brothers, but they all share a grudging competition between them, and to a degree, a similar mindset. He often finds himself scoffing at magic for it being a crutch many rely upon. Magic doesn't help, after all, when you have a knife in your spine you never saw coming. He has a similar distaste for some of the longer lived races, finding their longevity robbing them of their drive, and making them more fearful of death. While he doesn't want to die, he acknowledges his mortality, and has little fear of death.

Skills: Mallow has a handful of other skills that he's learned over time.
  • Stealth: While not good enough to stalk wary targets, he can sneak well enough.
  • Survival: On more than one occassion, Mallow has found himself in Oblitus for one reason or another. He can survive a few days, at least.
  • Underground: Mallow has his finger to the pulse of the illicit. He knows of drug trade, black markets, and other such activities. He can hardly claim to be an insider, however, and isn't extensively knowledgeable on the subject.
Bio/History: Mallow never knew his father, and was too young to remember his mother, who died giving birth to triplets, his three younger brothers. The brothers eked out a living in Abbadon, staying alive however they could. With no magic, no money, and no family, they stuck together despite all circumstances. When the eldest brother came of age, he became a servant for a minor, petty gladiator. When the gladiator fled away with his money, the oldest brother was asked if he would fight. He was the first of the nine to do so, the other eight following in his footsteps. They fought on the condition that they would not fight each other. Mallow, the most wild of the bunch, had a natural affinity for the line of work. He became a better fighter than his brothers, and was thrust against fiercer competition, for greater rewards.

Mallow earned the title of the mad bear for several reasons. His appearance was fierce, and many people often compared him to one. The Mad Bear, however, came about during one of his more difficult fights. After his opponent had viciously humiliated one of the Devers brothers in battle, Mallow vowed to humiliate him likewise. The fighter, however, was of the same skill as Mallow. In a long, grueling, and fierce battle, the two had reached a point where they had both disarmed the other. Wrestling each other, each keeping the other away from weapons, Mallow grew into madness out of frustration, and bit the throat of his opponent when he left it exposed. He was a seething mess of rage, mostly incoherent and incredibly violent, even after his opponent had bled to death in the arena. He was referred to afterwards as the Mad Bear, or Mad Bear Mallow, by many.

Nevertheless, Mallow moved forward, with a new title, and the Devers family name with new respect, and new fear. He led the family in place of his eldest brother afterwards, and led it cautiously for several years more until the present.

Other: If someone wants to use one of the brothers as a minor character, (no CS, just an NPC,) they can feel free to do so.
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Outhouse Poet
Name: Cryker Reywynn
Titles: None
Aliases: None
Role: Commoner

Moral Alignment: True Neutral ~ Neutral Evil
Affiliations: New Eden Underground, Wardens
Hometown: New Eden
Relationships: His family is probably still out there somewhere, but he probably wouldn't recognize them, nor them him. Cryker may also still be known by some longer lived wardens and members of the underground. He interacted with several members of Oblitus on occasion, as well.

[Update]: Nearly killed by and presumed dead by the Underground, he seeks to gain revenge by any means necessary.

Race: Half Human, Half Elf
Subrace: None
Age: 147, appears around forty.
Gender: Male
Appearance: Cryker is 6'1" and 200 pounds. He carries himself with both confidence and humility. His hair is a stark, clean white, as it has been his entire life. His eyes are deep blue. His features could have once been considered handsome, but were weathered and scarred over the years, far more than most. He generally wears his clothes and armor, finding them the most comfortable for him after having worn them for many years.

Lonesome Road: An unnaturally sharp, extremely well made double-edged elven blade about four and a half feet long, suitable for one hand or two. The blade and pommel are otherwise plain, and unidentifiable from any other sword. Cryker needs not to sleep, eat or drink while the blade is in his possession. It also makes his wounds heal faster than normal. Not regeneration per se, a wound that would take a week to heal would take a day. Cryker would die before letting the blade out of his hands.

[Update]: The sword has slowly awakened, revealing itself as some sort of quasi-intelligent item. The powers granted by the blade have increased in power significantly, and it may hold more secrets yet to be unlocked.

Traveller's Plate: A set of chain, plate, and leather, relatively light and easily adjusted for different types of weather. They have seen much wear, but were well cared for and still in functional shape.

Carving Knife: Well made and old, Cryker has carried this carving knife around with him for as long as he can remember. He keeps it with him for sentimental value, rather than a practical one.

Combat Prowess:
For a century, Cryker handled one sword, and one sword alone, Lonesome Road. He has complete mastery of it. While proficient with similar swords, his skill drops off sharply with other weapons, even more with non-sword weapons. He is quick and strong, and his senses are honed from decades of combat. He's quick thinking in a pinch, as well.

Blindsense: Cryker has limited magical ability, but has honed what he has to a single art. He can detect tremors in the ground and air, allowing him to react to things he couldn't ordinarily see.

Cryker is mentally tired. He's sick of fighting, and only wishes to relax, and rest out the remainder of his days. He has recurring nightmares about things he has seen in Oblitus, and can't qualify as particularly 'stable' or 'well-adjusted.' Mental attacks are effective, although unpredictable. His mind is unstable, but not weak in the slightest. In action, Cryker is often too slow to act for his own good, but unerringly decisive when he does, moving ruthlessly when he's made up his mind. In addition, his magic and his skills are rather limited, leaving him unable to adapt to many situations.

Cryker is a man who has been taught humility by the years, and doesn't seek much for himself, lacking the ambition that drives many others. Cryker has a strange confidence, however, a sense of pride that he carries with him as a result of his struggles over the years. He is calm and collected, but still willing to engage in a good laugh. He's a tempered individual, enjoying the same vices and activities others do, but never diving to the same extremes as others do within them. He quite tranquil at most times, and tends to keep his speech curt, usually just long enough to be practical.

Skills: Cryker has extremely good practical knowledge of Oblitus and its inhabitants, and to a lesser extent of the underground of New Eden. He has more knowledge than most outsiders about Abbadon, but not nearly as much as a resident. He's taken up woodcarving as a hobby over the years, and can be considered quite good at it.

Bio/History: Cryker was another victim of New Eden's underground when he was young. Wasted potential lost to the cesspool of crime beneath the golden city. He was young and rash, too eager to prove himself. His crime climaxed when he took a warden unawares, and nearly killed them with a knife to the back. The wardens sentenced him with a Geas, a forced quest, to punish him for his crime. For a hundred years, Cryker would never spend a day in the same place. For a hundred years, Cryker would be sentenced to wander Oblitus, surviving its hazards and inhabitants. Taking with him his family sword, which he later dubbed Lonesome Road, he only lived day to day so that he could one day return to New Eden. Over the years, however, his hatred faded, and he began to reflect for what he had done. He considered the warden's punishment harsh, but just, and began to attain some modicum of respect for them, despite his predicament. He contemplated his decisions in the past, seeing his faults and actions, and began to earnestly see his geas as atonement for what he had done. His travels across Oblitus took him many places, and he stumbled upon many things, eventually gathering enough wealth to be able to live out the rest of his days comfortably. Returning to New Eden at the end of his Geas, he only wishes to live out his life quietly.

Other: [EDIT] Got everything sorted out with Kalon.
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Outhouse Poet
Name: Walker
Aliases: The Undying, The Abomination of the Marsh
Title(s): N/A

Moral Alignment: Lawful Neutral ~ Neutral Evil
Affiliations: Void Born, Rolm
Hometown: Rolm, Drakenvulf Marsh <- Will be in New Eden
Relationships: None as of yet

Race: Undead
Subrace: Human Ghoul
Age: 358
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: He's Dead, Jim...
Appearance: At 6'2" and 270 lbs, Walker's muscles fill out his form monstrously. Bulky and lean, Walker moves lumbering, but deliberate. His body is bloodless leaving a pale white skin stretched in tatters over the tissue beneath. His skin and outer tissue is in tatters, and is quite literally rotting and falling off in some places, only to be regrowing beneath. His eyes are sunken deep into his skull, and glow like dull, burning embers. He has a hood, and and cloak, and leaves little skin exposed, but doesn't bother to hide the fact that the's undead. (The smell gives it away.) His voice is low and hoarse.

Plaguebringer: A twisted, warped and rusty single edged longsword coming to a sharp point. It looks more like a sheet of scrap metal with a handle than a sword, but it is deadly effective. Wounds inflicted by the blade don't heal naturally, and fester incredibly quickly, infection setting in in just a few hours. Victims slain by the weapon rot quickly, and attract deadly disease if not disposed of quickly. Magical healing or magical fire, however, quickly dispels the vile magic.

Bulwark of Rolm: This heavy wooden and steel shield is battered and tarnished from years of use, but the dark steel still holds strong. Emblazoned with an antimagic rune, it nullifies all but the most powerful magic it comes into contact with. An imperfect creation, however, it can only absorb so much magic before it becomes saturated, and takes time to dissipate the magic before it's abilities may be used again. Found salvaged in the swamp,

Talismans of the Fallen: Typically small pieces of armor of other trinkets, Walker adorns his armor with trinkets that have long been in the possession of his victims, and carry a small piece of their soul. With the amount he has, soul affecting or scrying magic is thrown off, and requires far more time or power to complete.

Half Plate: Originally dark Rolmish steel, this half plate has corroded and is barely suitable for its purpose. It's been reinforced over the years, and still protects well, but its barely worth its weight as scrap.

Mundane Weapons: Walker carries several daggers and short swords in addition to his primary sword, in the event he can't use his main sword, or doesn't wish to. He also takes with him a hand axe, for both utility and a weapon.

Rope: Everyone can benefit from having a length of rope with them. Strong and sturdy.

Combat Prowess: Although proficient with weapons, and excellent at fighting, he was never formally trained, and fights drastically differently than most knights. It isn't always an advantage, however.

One Of Us: Walker can manipulate undead to some degree, and are never attacked by them unless provoked or commanded to, and even then are often hesitant or confused. He can influence other mindless undead to do his bidding, but his control isn't nearly as good as a necromancer, generally limited to the absolute most basic commands, wait, attack, over there, guard here. He can, on the other hand, influence many at once.

Imperfect Regeneration: Walker's injuries regenerate incredibly quickly. Flesh grows back visibly, fractures close and seal, and limbs can grow back, given enough time. On the other hand, the regeneration is flawed in his undead form. What regenerates does so imperfectly. A wound will fix itself fast, but the injury can take time to heal back to full strength. In the meantime, it is subpar in varying ways, depending on the injury.

Feel No Pain: Rotting flesh fears the sting of no mortal blade. Certain weapons and magic, however, still inflict pain.

Unlife King: Death magic, life drain, and other similar effects are greatly diminished, if not outright useless. Certain other effects, such as those affecting the mind through living impulses, such as seduction or stimulants, are similar.

Flame of Death: Fire manipulation, with explosive results. Extremely powerful fire magic, but unstable and hard to control. Essentially no control between lighting a candle and torching the entire building.

Heightened Awareness: Walker is unusually sensitive in sight and hearing, heightened by his lack of the other three senses.

Free From Mortality: The flesh of the dead may be pushed farther than that of the living. Walker is extremely strong and faster than a normal person, and in addition, doesn't need to breathe.

Being of Rot: Walker is immune to most conventional disease, poison, and similar things. Most that would work on him must be tailored specifically for the dead.

Searing Light and Life: Like other undead, Walker the affects of light magic are amplified on Walker, and healing magic has the opposite effect, damaging him.

Burning Flame: Walker's flame has a tendency to damage himself when used. Although he's safe from most of the effects, the blowback can be devastating when he expends more energy.

Everyone Must Eat: Walker must eat. While he can go along time without food, depending on how sparingly he uses his powers, he does have to eat. Raw flesh from animals doesn't last long, although it can suffice. Humanoids are the most filling, and fuel his powers the longest.

Exhaustible: Walker's regeneration has its limits. Although a limb can be regenerated, if chopped into enough pieces, or simply damaged enough repeatedly, the regeneration will stop and Walker will die.

Loose Shackles: Undead can be controlled by necromancers, and Walker is no exception. Although resistant to it, powerful necromancers could even go as far as to completely dominate Walker, albeit at some effort. The effects would be similar to over exaggerated mind control, forcing out one will to replace it with another.

Pleasures of Life Lost: Walker cannot smell and is missing his sense of touch. His sense of taste is nearly absent, able to savor the taste of flesh, the only thing he can eat.

Unswerving, straighforward, and truthful. Walker doesn't enjoy the formalities of civilized society, and jumps to the point. He's bullheaded and stubborn. He isn't, however, mired in his ways. He'll shift and adapt to multiple strategies to accomplish his goals, ones he won't give up despite the futility. Unabashed and brutal, Walker does whatever needs to be done, and doesn't look back on it.

Skills: Walker might be considered a historian, among other things, due to his extensive amount of time spent delving through ruins. He is excellent at spelunking, and similar activities as well.

Born to a band of gypsies, Walker spent his adolescence traveling the world with his brother and the rest of their merry band. Things turned sour, however, when they began travelling near Rolm. Harassed and plagued by bandits, drakes, and other monstrosities, the band was forced further and further towards Rolm. Arriving, the band settled on the outskirts, living their same lifestyle.

Walker and his brother joined the Rolman military when they came of age, pressured from the Rolman hierarchy to contribute to the city state's ever growing military need. Along with most of the men of the camp of age, Walker joined the Rolman military as spearman auxiliary.

On the day they left, Walker and the rest of the men leaving were called to see the camps Seer, a mage who tapped into mysterious and occult powers neither of them could divine. The Seer said they would bless the group, gifting them with a long life, a strong arm, and good health, so they may return from combat whole. As the strong magic worked, the crowd was scared, and ran from the Seer and their spell. The die was cast, though, and Walker bore the effects of the spell alone, when it was meant to be distributed among many.

The soldiers from the gypsy camp were sent to aid in Rolm's defense. They were sent to fight in the Drakenvulf Marsh. It was hell. Fighting knee to waist deep in fetid water, where the dead came back to attack the living, and the plants were just as virulent and wild, the poorly trained, poorly equipped soldier were cut down by the hundreds, day by day.

Walker heard the news, one day, that his brother's unit was lost. Cut off and surrounded on all sides, with no one to lead them, they were stranded in the forest. Walker deserted. He waded through the marsh to find his brother, or at least his remains. He wouldn't let him be lost in the swamp, food for a beast, or one of the living dead. He set out, and after a few days, he found himself lost in the vast Drakenvulf Marsh as well.

Walker wandered the marsh for several decades. He survived day to day, scavenging, eating what he could, drinking what was safe. He would have died normally, but he was kept alive by the strong magic of the seer. He died differently instead.

The transformation from human to ghoul was slow and painful. The magic of the seer was slowly warped and changed by the magic of the swamp, Walker's own innate magic twisted and empowered in its own way. He only truly realized he was undead when one day, the living dead of the Drakenvulf Marsh no longer attacked him. It was then when he realized what he had become. His body was not the only thing that changed, though. His mind changed, and he accepted his new state, and lived with it, and embraced it.

Walker never found his brother. He left the marsh one day, and spent his time wandering Oblitus, with no aim, and no purpose. He met other living people, ate other living people, went through ruins, went through towns. Time passed quickly, and one day, he finally found New Eden, the first large humanoid settlement he had seen since Rolm.

Other: Talked it over with ChelonianCommander, he says it works.
Other Other: Drawn to New Eden by the undead.


Outhouse Poet
Name: Maligaro Sol
Aliases: The Scorned Preist, The Ocean's Zealot, The Storm Cultist
Role: Ship's Surgeon
Moral alignment: Lawful Neutral
Affiliations: Various Cults, Pirates, Privateers, New Eden Navy
Hometown: New Eden

Relationships: None, yet
Race: Elf
Subrace: N/A
Age: 331 (35)
Gender: Male

Wearing well kempt red and gold robes, and standing at 6'4" and 200 pounds, Maligaro makes an imposing figure. He wears a short beard, but keeps his brown hair shaved clean. He keeps himself fastidiously clean, and has hard, sharp features.

Equipment: Maligaro has several possessions he keeps with him of note...

Masterwork Cutlass: A beautiful and lethal weapon, lovingly cared for and deadly sharp.

Sacrificial Knife: Old habits die hard...

God's Talisman: Always worn against the skin, Maligaro has a mystical fascination with this talisman, and would do anything to get it back. Never let's it out of his sight.

Surgical Kit: An expensive surgical kit, filled with all the tools required for duty.

Medicine Chest: A heavy oaken chest with a heavy lock on it. Contains various herbs and medicines.

Collection of Scrolls and Tomes:
Some medical, some, otherwise. Most are very old.

Violin: A well worn, but well maintained instrument.


Water Manipulation: Is able to manipulate water to varying degrees. Simple tasks, like moving several gallons, require little to no effort, and are almost thoughtless. Others, like staunching blood flow, freezing large amounts of water, or separating saltwater, or healing wounds, require perfect concentration.


The Doctrine First: Loyal to ideologies to a fault.

Source of Water: Maligaro can't conjure water from the air, nor manipulate the water inside of others.

Combat Prowess:

Skilled in water manipulation as a weapon, as well as dueling. He would be beaten by many people who devote their lives to combat, however. While Maligaro spends time practicing the sword, he doesn't condition his body as rigorously.


Practical and ardent. The job needs to be done, for Aditi's sake. He follows religion to the letter. Remarkably straightforward, he deals with people honestly. He holds grudges, however, equally well, and with a cold, burning passion. He is patient, and will bide his time to accomplish his goals. He is loyal, and remembers favors equally well as his grudges, and goes far out of his way to repay them, even so far as centuries later.

An intellectual, Maligaro will read anything. He knows several languages, and enjoys friendly discussions on various topics. He's usually tame, moderated and stern, with a touch of cynicism, but when in the right mood, will open up and enjoy sharing in songs and tales with others. He is, however, quite abstemious, and doesn't drink, or take drugs of any type.


Maligaro was born in New Eden, and became an initiate to a nearby church, worshiping Aditi, after pressure from his parents. He eventually discovered the church to be d dark cult, and was indoctrinated, and joined. His stint in that cult, would not last long, however, as it was eventually hunted out and eradicated by the wardens.

He drifted from cult to cult in New Eden, each suffering the same fate as the last, while he remarkably remained unscathed. He eventually drifted to Abaddon, and reformed his beliefs, but found similar challenge there as well. Wishing to practice his faith in solitude, he joined a pirate ship, where he made use of his bootleg surgical skills and water manipulation. His skills were valuable, but every ship he joined found itself caught in poor weather. Still, his skills were often too good to pass up, and many a captain gambled. Some ships remained unscathed, but Maligaro was removed nonetheless due to his poor influence on morale. Finally, he managed to join The Fortune Slave as surgeon.