Snow

Snow is a Khamsin Fuser who served under warlord Blackwyn's Northlanders and kickstarted the Black Powder Revolution by assassinating the ruling Prophet-Magus, Karrudan, with a single well-placed shot.

## Characteristic

Snow had wide shoulders - miner's shoulders, developed after working fourteen years in a Magestone quarry. His hair was black and ran thick. Snow's arsenal consisted of a Dwarven broadaxe and a fuser rifle.

### Personal Mount

Snow's horse was a half-feral cross-breed, part of its heritage hailing from the northern ponies that wandered the plains. Its greater size suggested a plow horse in its background, probably brought to these climes by humans attempting to settle the area. Disaster for those settlers—Mage Spawn or Orc marauders—had left that equine ancestor free to mate with the local ponies.

The result was a rangy hybrid with a fierce disposition and the strength to carry a rider of Snow’s size. At the corral where the pack train had chosen horses, nobody else had wanted this big brute. When Snow had approached him with a saddle, he had snapped at Snow’s arm and head. Sigwold had joked that horse and rider shared the same temperament. For Snow, it had simply been a practical decision. His bulk might not have killed a pony, considering the large loads on the pack animals, but he was damned if he’d ride with his feet trailing the ground on either side of an animal any smaller.

## Personality

Snow was distrustful towards orcs, and he also thought that they were Mage Spawn and not a separate faction. This distate stemmed from Snow's farmer upbringing - he knows what the Orc Raiders do to farms - and to farmers.

## History

### Early Life

Snow had spent his last growth spurt working fourteen-hour shifts in a Magestone mine. Imperial diviners had discovered a major seam of the crystal that powered the magic of the Atlantis Guild in the fields where Snow’s people made their living. As it turned out, his home village, Linzfarne, had stood at the confluence of several ley lines, and where the magical currents conjoined, Magestone was often to be found. Very soon after, the Atlantean army had descended on Linzfarne. Snow's father was of belief that the Atlantis guild was the bulwark of humanity, providing it means to stand up to other, magically gifted races.

Linzfarne's fields dissappeared into a great hole in the ground - the newly-built web of Magestone excavations. Snow, his family and other farm-folk were coerced or enslaved into working at the mines. The baleful effects of the Magestone were taking their toll on the villagers, sickening them. Despite that, Snow's father held to his beliefs until the day that Prophet-Magus Karrudan ordered his death.

He’d wandered north after finally escaping from the pit mine at Linzfarne, angry at the world - and especially at his father. At the last moment, Pap began dithering about the getting away. In spite of the beatings, watching his neighbors die from the poisonous effects of the Magestone, and losing Snow's mother to an Imperial spear, Pap had clung to his illusions about the great and glorious Empire - and a less-than-glorious overseer had killed the old man while Snow and a few others had escaped.

Given his frame of mind when he reached Varsfield, Snow might have ended up as a brutal reaver—there were plenty of bandit gangs up in the mountains. Luckily he’d fallen in with a group of Rebels and met Sarah. She’d shown him an alternative to raging against the world. Snow found what it was like to try to build a future - the Rebels could still use his skills as a fighter. In fact, they helped him discover his talents with black powder weapons. But the fighting was a means to an end — an end of the Empire that had wrecked his life and the lives of so many others.

### Rebel Thunder

This section covers the events transcribed in the novel Rebel Thunder, set in 419 Tz.

#### Road to Caero

Snow and Sigwold then took to the north, to Varsfield, where Snow was to help the black powder cargo from Nepharus Mons get to Atlantis and, while waiting for the pack train to get ready, practiced shooting with a black powder pistol - in one minute Snow got 5 shots, 5 fits and all of that from 50 paces - Sigwold used a hourglass to measure it.  While there, Sarah Ythlim paid them a visit. Bringing with herself a near-perfect fuser rifle - The Lady's Hand-cannon, she gifted it to Snow since waiting for Dwarven tinkers to perfect the brass cartridges would be too long and the Revolution needed to act now.

Snow's pack train of animals loaded with black powder from Nepharus Mons went on path from Varsfield, through the mountains to Enos Joppa and then to The Fist. Snow, Sigwold, and their team of packhorse drivers had made their way across more than a hundred miles, much of it rugged country, in slightly more than a week. The Orcs, traveling across flat grasslands, had yet to turn up. Since Enos Joppa, they’d at least had a trail of sorts to follow. From this stand of hills onward, however, they would cut cross-country to Khamsin. The question that worried Snow was whether the full cargo would be heading south, or would it only be his half? Sarah may have been wise to split up the shipment as it went through the wild lands. But Snow and his people had been waiting two days now.

He almost turned away, when he caught a trace of movement from the tail of his eye. Cued now about where to look, he made out dusty greenish shapes heading into a valley between rises - either the orcs found their camp or were running from something worse. He arrived at the camp and warned of oncoming Orcs. The men armed themselves and took defensive positions. Sigwold mounted up and joined Snow to meet the visitors - the Raider band that came their way totaled about a score of Orcs and Goblins—light cavalry, ten Cave Butchers and five Cave Archers. They spread out, Goblin archers standing with arrows nocked, searching for targets among the rocks surrounding the campsite. The Cave Butchers rode with bare blades. Now they began clashing them against their rough Ankhar-bone armor, starting a war-chant. A lone rider rode forth - Grugh, the orc leader. His Cave Lizard had an odd, capering gait as he came forward to confront Snow and Sigwold. Grugh, Snow and Sigwold had a short talk after which it was revealed that Grugh's warhost was the escort kzar Kraksha provided, per Sarah's request. The three of them, now joined, rode to Khamsin.

Snow was not in the best of moods. The travelers were enduring yet another night of camping without a fire, which meant uncooked food and a freezing night out on the plains. On the other hand, it made it harder for any passing patrols to spot them. The messenger from Khamsin had blundered onto the pack train just as the long shadows were turning into true evening. Snow found himself feeling sorry for the kid after his brush with the Orc guards. Standing in camp, the young rider was a sturdy enough Khamsin youth. Sigwold, meanwhile, knelt with a bull’s-eye lantern, deciphering the message Eginhard had sent. The brothers had their own private code, and Sigwold spent some time going from the scrap of paper that the rider had delivered to the map he’d been using to chart their course. Finally he shuttered the lantern and arose, saying that the spot Eginhard has chosen is a crossroads near an extensive stand of brush, they’ll have concealment but also will be able to keep a watch. They sent the young messenger back after feeding him and giving him a good horse and set camp for the night.

Snow and Sigwold's forces ambushed the Imperial Scorpem patrol and lended a hand to Eginhard's squad through this, winning the skirmish. After Sigwold introduced Snow to Eginhard and told him about Sarah's plans Eginhard introduced the two to Rikka, his adopted daughter and Blaize, who led the initial charge towards the Imperials. The rest of the loose horses would be divided among the northern drovers and the Khamsins. The tall animals were prized in the North—cross-bred with ponies, their hybrid offspring would fetch much silver. With their Imperial army brands, however, they couldn’t be brought to the city itself. Eginhard’s wounded men and the hurt Varsfielder would take the mounts for sale to the free outposts beyond Enos Joppa, sharing the silver from the booty. That still left seventeen dead bodies, two Scorpems, and all traces of any combat in the area to be cleared away—preferably before any more Imperial patrols came riding along. The Rebels had work to do.

Snow, called everyone around and then ordered everyone to start covering up the evidence of the ambush, digging up graves for the Atlantean corpses. Others had already begun the job of digging a pit, but with so much earth to move, they had to improvise, using horse blankets from the captured mounts. Even working in shifts, the men started complaining when they got about eight feet down. First, they dumped the Scorpems into the pit, they ended with two layers of stiffening bodies covering the mechanical beasts. Snow vanished over to the pack train and returned with a metal container - ыomewhere in the Land, an Incendiary Golem was missing a fuel tank. Snow and Sigwold then broke the tank open, poured it's contents into the pit and set it on fire. Brief, intensely burning flames licked out of the pit, causing some of the watchers to make a quick retreat. The funeral pyre subsided quickly, throwing up little smoke. The top layer of dead had been incinerated to the bone.

The men then set to digging, shoveling, dumping blanketfuls of earth, even kicking the stuff into the pit. Sigwold called a halt when they’d created a small mound. Snow and a few of the northern drovers appeared, leading the pack animals and the men’s mounts. As soon as all the horses were reloaded, they set off along the other leg of the crossroad — the way at right angles to the path taken by the ill-fated patrol. And although Sigwold strove for speed, it was the progress of the laden horses that set the pace. Sigwold directed the caravan off the road and onto a cross country run—probably to avoid the next town and any possible inquiries.

Their route hugged the edge of the hills, until Snow rode back, declaring a halt. Upon seeing the Roa Vizorr nearby, he men cheered, turning their final advance into an impromptu charge. They rode their horses right into the water, the hooves stirring up the bottom silt. The thirsty horses didn’t care, leaning their heads down to drink. When the riders started to join them, Sigwold’s voice cut across the scene, telling the Rebels that they'd have enough time to rest once they set up a camp.

After turning onto the road, the pack train had encountered several deserted townlets. Snow and the others had stopped at some of them, using the wells to water their beasts, sleeping in some of the less tumbledown adobes. Debt and failure had emptied the villages of peasants as their farms had been swallowed up by the growth of estates. This set of half-ruinous buildings, however, turned out to be near a gleaming new manor house. The steward had come out to berate them, waving his staff of office. Besides his dubiously useful sword, the steward had a gaggle of agricultural workers standing well behind him, armed with the usual farm-implement miscellany: sickles, pitchforks, and flails. They didn’t look very confident in their chances of success against the riders. He and the rest of the warriors could go through these farmers like wind scattering wheat chaff.

However, their job was to shepherd a perilous cargo to Caero and beyond, not to pick fights with local landowners while heading in the direction of the Imperial garrison those landowners would call upon. The head steward was unfortunate enough to insult Rikka, Eginhard's daughter and a fight between the servants of Master Ramosi's estate and the Rebels almost broke out. Sigwold defused the situation, however, and the pack train lurched into movement. While on the road, Snow, Sigwold, Eginhard, Rikka and Blaize discussed how empty estates like these are made, with Sigwold telling them of Sarah's theory on the Empire's taxation politics that seep all the life off of these estates.

Up in the front of the caravan a delay happened because of a dam breaking down and flooding the nearby areas. After proceeding down the road, they were attacked by a band of six Lizard-men - vicious, aquatic Mage Spawn. Snow joined in the fight to help, eventually driving off the beasts, but not before Blaize's mount and Mikarl died at the hands of the monsters.

The whole pack train then moved across the river. They managed to recover most of the cargo the Lizard-men had torn loose, although that effort had initially been slow until the riders finally realized they wouldn’t become Mage Spawn provender. One of the lost packhorses had been carrying food, but the caravan still had sufficient rations to make it to Caero. The sealed barrels of black power had actually floated, so they’d been easy enough to salvage. They’d managed to catch Mikarl’s horse, which had been cut off by the crowd of Imps that had given the first warning of trouble. A couple of shots from Jon Bowman had driven the little creatures from their prospective meal. Blaize now rode the dead Khamsin rider’s pony. He’d also taken Mikarl’s long horseman’s sword. They’d left the dead pony and the two Lizard-men for the Imps and the surviving Mage Spawn. Mikarl had been wrapped in a tarp and placed on a nervous packhorse. They buried him in an unmarked grave as soon as they found drier land.

Snow then gave the signal to move out, as glad as the rest of the party to leave the site of the ambush. He rode up to the head of the little column, to find that Rikka had Blaize up there again. Whatever had prompted the Caeronn to lag behind and notice the Imps beforehand, Snow considered it a lucky chance. Snow pushed away the possible losses in manpower and matériel. Eginhard and Sigwold then argued over whether they should report the attacking Lizard-men.

When they were almost within sight of Caero, the pack train turned off the Luxor-Caero road, heading instead south and east toward the canyon city of Venetia. But long before they reached the flooded gorges and grottos cut by quarrymen centuries before, Snow detoured them off the road. Snow led the way toward the highest prominence, which obviously had been partially quarried. A slit had been hacked into the top of the hill, with several shattered blocks flanking it. Beyond the slit entrance, though, the quarry opened up, offering more than enough space to stable the packhorses. There was even a cavelike section cut into the rock.

Snow said that they don’t want some Imperial tax assessor pawing through the merchandise, so Sigwold and him will camp out here with the goods. Most of the rest of the riders went home, since from here on, a large group of Northerners and Khamsins would've trigger a little too much interest from suspicious Imperial minds - better to have this look like a Caeronn pack train with a few outlander guards. Snow kept four men on besides Eginhard and Rikka - Tulwar has shown himself good on the trail, Jon Bowman’s shooting is a definite plus, Harolt has been running the pack train from Varsfield, and Blaize, as a Caeronn, would blend well with the additions.

#### Karrudan's Assassination

During the burning of Caero by Atlanteans in 419 Tz, Sigwold and Snow were stationed at the abandoned quarry south of the city, at the Rebel's rendezvous point. Up until that point, Snow was with the Black Powder Rebels for 4 years already. Once Sarah, the leader of the rebellion was rescued by Rikka, Snow was present during the talk that decided how to go about Karrudan's assassination, promoting himself to deliver the killing shot, supported by Sigvold. It was then decided that Snow and Sigvold will go to Atlantis and Sarah will stay behind with Rikka. Before Snow's departure, Sarah gave him her ring so that fellow Rebels will be able to recognize their agent in Down Town or Atlantis - the ring had a seal of Khamsin and a bezel that contained black powder.

After more than almost two weeks of unremitting toil, Snow felt little better than a beast himself. Sigwold rode back, leading a packhorse that had broken loose from the string. Moving the powder barrels from Varsfield, meeting the Orcs with their load, fighting Imperials and Mage Spawn had merely been hard work. Carrying on with just the two of them after the disaster in Caero—that had wrung them out. They’d only taken a few of the strongest horses, carrying as many powder barrels as possible. But keeping an eye out for external dangers, riding herd on the train, caring for the horses, sleeping in snatches had all taken their toll.

After the first four days, talk had diminished to short warnings, grunts, and nods. To make things worse, for the last day and a half they’d traveled under leaden skies with frequent cloudbursts. The softer margins of the road had turned to quagmire, so they’d traveled to the syncopation of clopping hooves on paving stones. Horses, human, and Dwarf all moved with downcast heads, either dripping or sodden. Snow had to force himself to rein in, raise his eyes, and scan the horizon. He frowned upon seeing Atlantis-in-the-Sky. Squinting upward, Sigwold quickly spotted the unmoving shape in the heavens. He made an indeterminate grunt. Rain and clouds dogged them all the miserable miles to the outskirts of Down Town. Arriving at the gates of the town-down-under was almost an anticlimax.

Of course, there was the small business of getting past the gate guards. Sigwold had the papers — they’d figured this was a job for diplomacy. Several squads of soldiers were examining shipments coming into the city and levying taxes. There was a difference between Atlantis and Caero, however - merchandise destined for nobles and mages passed in untaxed. Sigwold handed a sheaf of papers to the nearest Altem. The manifest showed a load of paint pigment arriving for the mansion of a Lord Ferank.

Ferank was a real lord, and he had ordered an actual shipment. It had already been moved into the city piecemeal by Rebel sympathizers. The planned route should have skirted the pit in the center of Down Town, but a rumbling line of wagons blocked the way. Squads of guardsmen forced traffic — including the pack train — into a detour. At last, however, they found an unblocked major street that took them in the right direction. Sigwold asked one of the boys to get Perrin to them - a friend of the cause and an innkeeper in Down Town. He helped them unload their horses before turning the animals over to his hostler. Rather than taking his guests to the common room, Perrin led the way to a small private parlor where they discussed matters and planned for the final phase of Karrudan's assassination. Sigwold gave Snow a lot of useful items from his bandolier, most of them containing black powder. Tomorrow, Snow had to get into Atlantis. Next morning, while eating, Snow and Sigwold discussed Sarah's role in the whole plan, how they were all brought together under her cause and expressed worry about her.

The sun wasn’t yet up when Snow arrived for the rendezvous with whoever was going to get him into Upper Atlantis. Perrin had provided him with rough, worn workmen’s clothing, a set of passwords, and the useful information that he’d be meeting an Elf. Snow had some choice words about Prieskans and their national sense of humor as he walked through the predawn streets. He’d expected to meet his contact near a liftgate. Instead, he was directed to a wharf on the Roa Vizorr. The ungodly hour wasn’t that bad. Seeing the fisher folk returning home as the sun rose, however, was really strange.

Snow then met Lord Daraton of the Knights Immortal. The tall, regal figure looked down at Snow as if he’d just detected something unpleasant stuck to the sole of his boot. The Elf sounded as if he were conferring a great honor by giving his name. Daraton served Prince Hamund with his embassage to the rulers here - the reason for why Daraton helped the Rebels, however, remained ambiguous no matter how many times Snow asked. Fuming, Snow silently followed the Elf to another wharf, where a string of humans awaited with various boxes and bundles - porters, Snow realised. Daraton then ordered Snow to carry one of the crates to pass off as another porter, and they moved on.

They proceeded through the streets, Snow nearly bent double under the weight of the crate. A loop of rope ran from his forehead to the top rear of the box, helping him hold his burden in place. Daraton seemed in no rush to reach the nearest liftgate plaza. Sweat beaded on Snow’s face and stained his jerkin while Daraton spoke with the guards. Then the Elf and his porters stepped into the three concentric circles of dull stone that marked the actual gate. When the whole group was in place, the inner stone circle suddenly turned a brilliant emerald green. Beneath his feet, Snow knew that buried Magestone was charging to send them upward. The brilliance shifted to the next stone ring, then the outermost ring ignited in emerald fire. Suddenly, the whole group was impelled into the air on the circle of stone. A soft moan went through most of the porters, who directed their eyes upward. Daraton watched Snow, who, thanks to his posture, was looking almost straight down. Their movement wasn’t all that noticeable, except for Snow’s peripheral view of the ground steadily receding beyond the edge of the circle. A new rush of sweat drenched his jerkin, and it had nothing to do with the strain of his burden.

They arrived at their destination, a circular opening in the immense flying shield that was Atlantis. Lambent green light flashed around them in three expanding circles. Then the fire died, to reveal pavement as solid as if it stood on the ground so far below. A demi-magus tried to inspect the crates with food on orders of Lord Scarbro, but Daraton explained that they contained food intended for Prince Hamund and his master would be very angry if his banquet was spoiled. Snow then lumbered off. He was wheezing gently when they finally stood in the embassy courtyard, outside the kitchens. The other porters were gone by the time Snow got free of his encumbrance. Daraton then pointed to a burlap-wrapped cross-pole one of the porters had used to carry sacks of vegetables. Snow removed the burdens and then the sacking, revealing a familiar oilcloth bundle. The Elf made a dismissing gesture, bidding Snow farewell. The farmboy then walked off, wishing he could risk practicing his marksmanship before completing his job.

Perrin had arranged for Snow to get into the Lesser Ministries of Atlantis as a replacement on the janitorial staff. Now, standing under the open sky, he felt a sudden tremor of fear. Snow crouched, leery of exposing himself to view from the square below. He made his careful way to the frieze that edged the front of the structure, scanning the other rooftops before ducking down. Kneeling, he unslung the oilcloth package from his back. He removed the fuser rifle and the box of cartridges. That was when the shakes overtook him. The twists of paper filled with black powder charges and bullets flew loose, landing helter-skelter on the roof. Snow scrabbled to reclaim them, chagrined.

Snow swung round, sitting with his back to the low parapet, replacing the gathered cartridges. His hands were skillful and steady as he began the ritual of loading. Finding a few crumbs of powder clinging to the metal top of the bolt, Snow brushed them away. The last of the powder in the cartridge went into the priming pan. Rising up on one knee, Snow risked a view of the square. A sea of humanity jostled in the space below, people were packed so tightly that their heads formed a strange sort of shifting pavement that extended right up to the steps of Throne Palace. There, a line of guardsmen and mages held them back. The clouds of recent days had either subsided or been magically whisked away, leaving brilliant sunshine for the climax of this great day. Beams of light angled down to give the portico maximum illumination - that was probably why Karrudan had chosen this hour to appear.

Walking forward into all this adoring noise, Karrudan gave his people an arrogant smile. He turned slightly, directing a sardonic comment to the guards officer at his side. Then he threw up his hands, palms outward, to quiet the mob. Snow knew that the Prophet-Magus had a reputation for not speaking until all was hushed. And Tezla protect any unfortunate individual who spoke out when the head of the Atlantis Guild wanted silence!

As the crowd’s noise died away, Snow lined up the sights of his fuser rifle on the Prophet-Magus’ chest. Karrudan opened his mouth. Snow never got to hear a word. He couldn’t, not with his ears filled with the rushing of his own blood. His heart pumped madly, as if tearing loose from its moorings inside his chest. But his hands were rock-steady as he squeezed the trigger. The detonation of the weapon going off was like the thunder of some angry god. It penetrated the roaring in Snow’s ears. He heard the sound of the blast echo off the stone fronts of the buildings lining the square. Below, Karrudan seemed to move in preternaturally slow motion - he flinched, staggering back. One hand went to his chest. A bright red stain blossomed across the broad stripe of gold at his breast. Then the Prophet-Magus of the Atlantean Empire dropped without a word to the marble floor of the portico. The echo of the shot was just dissipating as Snow replaced his gear in the oilcloth bandoleer, slinging it across his back. A sickening, choked sound filled the square below—a multitude all struggling to draw breath together. Snow turned his back. Still crouched, he headed for the trapdoor in the roof.

#### Escaping Atlantis

When the rear door opened and Snow emerged, he found Blaize standing outside. The big Northerner’s face was pale, and he actually recoiled when he saw Blaize’s uniform, one hand going for the knife in his belt. Then he took in the familiar face and forced his hand away from the hilt. No sooner had Snow made it to Blaize’s side than they saw a flood of guardsmen come pouring around the corner - they asked if anyone has come out of the building that Snow just exited and were trying to seal off the area.

Now they had a reason to hurry. Blaize and Snow moved quickly out of sight. In spite of their speed, though, word had preceded them to the nearest liftgate. A mage-officer barred their way, his authority backed by a line of spear-men. By order of Lord Jethren, none are to leave, the mage said. Blaize riposted that by order of Lord Scarbro they were to leave here and now. The officer guarding the magic gateway looked as if he’d give much to hear exactly what events Blaize was talking about. Blaize then used his medallion to show Karrudan's sigil, for the last time - the mage-officer let him immediately. All through their descent, Snow maintained a dazed silence, broken with nervous questions - Blaize said that it was too long a story - for now.

Even before they reached the ground, Blaize and Snow could hear shouts, cries, and sharp, barking explosions coming up from the streets below in Down Town. The folk in the square weren’t the only ones to find the Prophet-Magus’ death unthinkable. In the end, Karrudan himself hadn’t been able to take the threat seriously, even with the prophecies. They returned to solid earth to find an embattled Imperial company trying to improvise fortifications around the liftgate circles. The black powder pistols given to Down Towners made them a very competent enemy for the Atlanteans, and the garrison commander in Down Town even admitted failure.

He stepped behind the thrown-together wall and removed his armor and helmet - the last time he’ll wear Atlantean battle regalia. The two Rebels broke into a run for the edge of the plaza, hoping they wouldn’t be hit by fire from their own side. Reaching a street, they continued to pound along until they came to an intersection. They whipped round, and out of sight of the Imperials at last, Snow opened the oilcloth bundle slung across his back to remove his weapon - a fuser rifle.

Blaize and Snow whirled round to discover a group of men emerging from the basement of a building. A couple were similar to the hard young types Blaize had seen at Perrin’s inn, carrying pistols. The Rebel sympathizers explained that Sarah, Valerian and others ran from the inn to the Mills of Circumstance in Down Town, and Snow with Blaize were off with the group of gunners joining them as escort.

They set off through the streets, Blaize and Snow in the lead, a long, trailing procession behind them as those who couldn’t keep pace fell back. But before they’d gone even three blocks, they heard shouts — more like howls — rising from off to their right. Following the sounds, they came upon the remains of an Imperial patrol surrounded by a furious mob. The uprising had apparently caught the soldiers in the midst of a ramshackle market square. The Imperials had gone to ground among some of the stalls and tables, with benches and crates piled upon them as a barricade, using their crossbows to keep the crowd at bay.

If the whole horde of people jostling in the streets attacked, their numbers could have overwhelmed the defenders. But they were rabble, not trained soldiers. No one wanted to lead the way and die for it. So paving stones and bottles flew one way, and the occasional crossbow bolt winged the other. A young gunner aimed his pistol, shot down a crossbowman, and charged. His group followed, and then the roaring crowd joined in. Blaize stood where he was. They could just as easily have bypassed these bedraggled Imperials. He saw no reason to make the mob’s job easier. Snow, however, began manipulating his weapon, raising it to his shoulder. Snow’s long gun had a deeper, more bellowing roar than the pistols. His every shot was aimed, and each took down one of the enemy soldiers. The lighter popping of the pistols was more frequent, more hurried. When one of the gunners died to a crossbow bolt, Blaize took his pistol for himself.

They left the mob to its butchery and ran on toward the Mills of Circumstance. As they came closer to the inn, they heard growing sounds of gunfire. Thick clouds of smoke obscured the sky. Sudden shooting broke out almost ahead of them. Blaize and Snow ran forward, to find a group of Rebels huddling behind heaps of furniture blocking the street. The few Rebels with pistols crouched behind what cover they could find, reloading and rising to pepper shots farther down the roadway. About seventy paces away, a company of Imperials came forward at the double. The Utems’ spears were useless at that range, and their shields offered no protection from the bullets. Men cried out and fell to the pavement. The Utem crossbowmen were doing their best to lay down a covering fire, but they were taking losses, too. Blaize checked his own pistol and advanced to a firing position.

The center of the barricade vanished with the impact of a magical blast. The deep-throated blast of Snow's rifle roared out from behind Blaize. A neat hole appeared where the Imperial officer’s Magestone implant had been a moment before. The mage all but flipped into a somersault, revealing the red ruin the back of his head had become. Even without the officer’s help, however, the remnants of the company were too close, and that last blast had cleared a way through the Rebels’ defenses.

Trying to find out where the Rebel leaders were involved Blaize and Snow in a succession of swirling streetfights. Disorganized groups of Rebels tried and failed to stop the advance of Imperial flankers. Their defense line—if they ever had one—was being pushed back to the breaking point. Somewhere in the confusion, Blaize got separated from Snow, but once the fighting ended, the farmboy reunited with the surviving comrades, ready for a new age - an age of Rebellion.

### Rebellion

Snow came too late to fight in the civil war that destroyed the kingdom-state of Khamsin, though he saw some action in the many chaotic struggles following that bloody time. He offered his services to a heir tot he Khamsin throne and held the rank of captain. As an officer he commanded a small troop of men, eventually sending them to their deaths. Their warlord, a prince­-pretender of Khamsin, had decided Snow and his men were “expendable” and offered them up as bait for a trap that the prince then failed to spring in time. Only one of Snow's men made it out with him, and the man later died from his wounds. After Snow's resignation he was forced from Khamsin and took to mercenary ways. Eventually he met up with Blackwyn, then a simple mercenary commander, and Blackwyn took Snow on for the battle near Xandressa. In the long retreat that followed, Snow found himself in honor to Blackwyn, and in loyalty to his men. It was enough to remind Snow why he had first begun to fight: to support a just cause. Eventually, before the battle of Black Ridge, Blackwyn introduced Snow to Rowan.

Snow, Rowan, Kerraii and Byrch then were tasked by Blackwyn to scout warlord Wither's host, first coming up against a scout squad or Orcish Slashers, Crushers and one Shaman, dispatching them all easily. The fight took place near Byrch's Victory, with a troll artillerist joining the fight against the Raiders on the side of Snow's gang. After the fight ended, Snow talked to the village elder and Turrak'din himself - the troll explained that the garrison where he previously was stationed was overrun by Wither's troop and asked to join Blackwyn's side - Snow agreed and the fuser's gang gained an additional member. They were then ambushed by a Blade Golem, powered by the Magestone that Wither's troops stole from the village, but the Golem and the accompanying Orcs were easily eliminated by the band. Snow and his allies then returned to Blackwyn to report that Wither's troops were here.

### Unlimited

Snow, Rowan, Kerraii, Byrch and Turrak'din then found themselves in a place ruled by Borryan, the bandit-king - after sending Byrch to scout ahead they were ambushed by a large number of Undead. They were initially overwhelmed, but a timely arrival of Aurijia and Khollis, two other warriors of Blackwyn, saved them, with Aurijia using her holy Ikona to burn the living dead in divine flames. United with even more warriors than before, Snow's gang made a camp at hills up north, where Aurijia left her horse, Noiri.

At the camp, the gang discussed matters, getting more acquianted with each other, until they were interrupted by Maren'kar, a troll wizard who somehow got past Rowan's protective wards. Maren'kar was sent by Rajidon, Blackwyn's right hand, to seek out Rowan - her healing powers were required to aid Skyros, a centaur lieutenant helping the Rebel cause who was struck by a Necromantic spear. After some discussion, Maren'kar, Kerraii Rowan teleported away to Skyros while Snow and his gang had their duties to attend to.

Aurijia told Snow and the rest of the gang about their next mission from Blackwyn - freeing the little town of Red Oak from Borryan's zombie bandits, but that wasn't the primary objective - a cache of Magestone was hidden somewhere in the town's temple, and the warlord wanted it. After entering the occupied town, the gang split up - Byrch and Khollis went for the zombie-occupied tavern and Snow, Turrak'din and Aurijia went for the temple, where they met Borryan himself and his "pet" - a Bone Golem. After hard fighting, Snow's gang came up on top, killing Borryan.

With their king dead, the bandits scattered. Aurijia found the promised magestone under the temple's altar and the gang then went to meet with Blackwyn's forces at Cross Creek.

## Relationships

### Rowan

Snow and Rowan seem to be in a romantic relationship, with Snow being thankful to Blackwyn for introducing him to the Mending Priestess - the feeling is mutual for Rowan, too.

### Snow's Gang

Snow's band, consisting of him, Rowan, Byrch, Kerraii and later Aurijia and Khollis, too, is a tight-knit group of friends as well as a formidable war unit. Snow seems to be on good terms with all of the members - the gang listens to his commands without fail and Snow himself is concerned over their well-being, trying his best to not risk their lives in the midst of a fight.

### Snow's father

Snow's father looked on the Empire as the great equalizer, which didn't sit well with his son. He thought the Imperials’ Magestone Technomancy would help humans against the more magically gifted races, and that belief had been the death of him. Even after the malforming effects of working at the Magestone mines started to take their toll on Snow's family, his father clung to his beliefs - to this day Snow hates him for it.

### Sarah Ythlim

Strong, smart, and citified, she was a more powerful woman than he’d ever met before. Though her charisma almost cowed a country boy like him, his anger had acted as a brace against his inexperience at their first meeting. Without the Rebels, Snow would probably be up in the mountains, ambushing travelers for a palmful of road-silver. It was Sarah who brought the Rebellion together and gave them a cause, and also recognized that Snow had brains, as well as a cursed good eye with a fuser rifle.

## Gallery

Snow from the Unlimited manga.Miniature from the Rebellion expansion.Miniature from the Nexus expansion.

***Black Powder Rebels***
 Major characters

1. ↑ 1.0 1.1 1.2 Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Prologue
2. ↑ 2.0 2.1 Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 10
3. ↑ 3.0 3.1 3.2 Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 6
4. ↑ 4.0 4.1 4.2 Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 3
5. ↑ Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 7
6. ↑ Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 9
7. ↑ Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 12
8. ↑ Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 13
9. ↑ 9.0 9.1 Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 17
10. ↑ Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 18
11. ↑ Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 19
12. ↑ Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 19
13. ↑ Rebel Thunder (Bill McCay), Chapter 20
14. ↑ https://www.mageknight.net/wp-content/uploads/Mage-Knight-Lore-Expansion-Rebellion.pdf
15. ↑ 15.0 15.1 https://www.mageknight.net/wp-content/uploads/Mage-Knight-Comic-Book-Rebellion.pdf
16. ↑ https://www.mageknight.net/wp-content/uploads/Mage-Knight-Unlimited-Starter-Set-Comic-Book.pdf