Aulin Velstadt

*"I was lucky. In the eyes of the baron, I was surely far worse than them, and more deserving of my fate. Miraculously I was afforded salvation, even when so many others that were in my position perished for much, much less. I was...truly...the most offensive of all the foetid souls. And yet, I was spared punishment while my people are still beneath the ground- where I should have been."*

- Aulin Velstadt, upon recounting his guilt.

## Setting

### Kassalen

Kassalen was originally a settlement established by canine beastkin who thrived off of the fertile lands. As humans colonized the area, a large town slowly rose over many decades. For a time, the beastkin native to Kassalen were able to peacefully coexist with the humans on their land whom they had allowed to settle on, despite their growing political control. The humans appointed a baron by the name of Alberich Ludovera to oversee all of Kassalen. Very little is known of Alberich's origins; he was a gifted speaker who easily captivated the minds of others and deftly climbed the ranks, earning the favor of his human peers. His past was unable to be accounted for and was deeply shrouded in obscurity, which provoked scrutiny from more astute observers.

Alberich's presence wrought an insidious corruption that quickly assimilated all those who were close to him. He was able to turn men's hearts to greed and prejudice. He corralled the susceptible public into harboring bitter disdain for beastkin and the humans who consorted with them. While humans and beastkin alike suffered greatly under his rule, a more potent misery was reserved for the latter, enduring harsher taxation and constant harassment and enslavement by the baron's men, who ardently served a blackened cause that symbolized the wretched underbelly of Kassalen: the Armaia.

Those who were fortunate enough to escape its clutches, and brave enough to tell others, would recount their harrowing tales of the Armaia, a shadowed sect deep within the baron's ranks who served him directly. Although unseen, they held influence over all of Kassalen and were the true face of the baron's rule. Deep underneath the castle held many hallowed halls, rooms for ritual, and a prison with swathes of cells that rarely saw its inhabitants return to the surface, enslaved for any and all manner of sleights against the baron. The Armaia had a core belief in which all living beings were vessels for souls that grew and ebbed according to their convictions, and asserted that all souls are unequal. Meager souls were only good for sacrifice, to contribute to more potent souls. However...those who disobeyed, dissented, or disavowed the Armaia, were regarded as something putrid, worth less than any vermin or creature: the foetid soul. Those with such a soul were less than unworthy; they were unwanted. They strongly believed that a foetid soul soured anything it touched, and thus, was not to be sacrificed. The unfortunate ones to possess this label were sentenced to a dire punishment which was deeply feared by anyone who knew of its existence...

Deep within the castle's recesses, a large stone slab is chiseled into shape and marked with a symbol of eternal damnation. This unwieldy mass of stone was known as a spirit anvil. The baron's men were ordered to escort the accused outside of the town's perimeters, into the wilderness. Once there, the large, heavy stone was put in the arms of the accused, and they are forced to walk with it. Men and women, old or young, were made to carry the stone. Some had carried it far beyond the town into the woods, while others could only muster a few steps. As exhaustion wracked their bodies, they would collapse onto the dirt below. One of the baron's knights would disembark from their horse, stand above the tired, sweating, weary soul, draw his sword, and plunge it into them. The place where they drew their last breath would be their burial plot, and the stone would be placed above, to weigh down their soul for all of eternity, never to pass on. In the eyes of the Armaia, to die with a spirit anvil at your grave was an outcome far worse than death, and a fate reserved only for the most foul and wretched of living beings.

Many human and beastkin inhabitants find themselves trapped in Kassalen. What was once a serene safety from the treacherous uncertainty of the Rolling Foothills' monstrous denizens was now a prison, a far cry from its former self, beset on all sides by fear and danger.

## Character Background

### Early Years

Growing up, Aulin was raised solely by his beastkin mother, Anneka, who lived on ancestral farmland outside the town's walls. His human father, Yoran Farald, left his mother before he was born. Yoran served as a faithful knight to the baron, although the existence of the Armaia had not been made known to him. When his relationship with Anneka came to light, the baron gave him an ultimatum: abandon knighthood and return as a prole, or remain a knight and leave Anneka and his unborn son forever. Anneka bore her child alone, and never saw Yoran's face ever again.

Aulin spent much of his time working on his mother's farm after learning to tend to crops and cattle in his youth. As he became more skilled at farm work, his mother began work as a cobbler downtown to earn more money, leaving most of the farm duties to Aulin. As the baron's strict taxation increased, they both worked exhaustively to provide for themselves; his mother's resourcefulness ensured that they were able to eat most days, along with the courtesy of other farmers and laborers. At the age of 12, Aulin was already very self-sufficient and task-oriented due to his mother's influence.

In his teens, Aulin was beginning to nurture a strong combat propensity. Despite his calm and soft-spoken demeanor, he was able to very adequately defend himself against thieves and bullies and even overpower grown adults at times. As Aulin was given permission to venture into town he was often confronted by other youth who would attempt to mug or attack him; his retaliations would be fierce, leaving his would-be assailants greatly incapacitated and deterred from further attempts on his life or belongings. Aulin experienced a deeply traumatic encounter when he was physically accosted by a group of adult men; in a desperate attempt to preserve his life, he shirked his own humanity to allow himself to become steeped in reckless, bestial violence. The outcome of this exchange left his attackers utterly mangled, who were at the whim of his inexorable aggression.

Aulin was horrified with the form he had taken to protect himself. Although grateful to have kept his own life, he was deeply ashamed of the act of senseless brutality he had committed. He began carving and painting a wooden mask. He vowed that, if such animalistic violence was ever required again, he would don the mask with the intent to project himself outside of his actions. The black-painted mask hung from his belt, where he hoped it would remain. To better defend himself, Aulin sought help from amicable veterans, laborers, and hardened men and women alike. He was provided with sword fighting and hand-to-hand combat manuals, military manuscripts, and was occasionally offered tutelage. He spent many hours in between toiling on his mother's land practicing with hard-carved wooden weapons, using makeshift spears and longswords, lobbing hatchets at trees, and wrestling with heavy bags of soil and feed. By the time Aulin was 18, he had pored over a veritable amount of literature and spent countless hours acquiring experience with many different armaments and equipment, honing his combat proficiency.

### Adulthood

Aulin began to seek mercenary work as a means to supplement his mother's income. His jobs entailed tasks anywhere from guarding farmland, tracking down thieves and stolen property, and settling disputes, to lending a hand to workers in need and providing training to others. At times, his work confronted cruel injustices beset by the baron; he witnessed downtrodden families bereft of basic necessities, farmers bullied by soldiers, and often saw others disappearing indiscriminately. Aulin became wary of making friends or acquaintances out of fear of never seeing them again, preferring to maintain professional relationships. The state of Kassalen and its denizens weighed heavily on Aulin and he mourned for his people's turmoils, particularly beastkin, who faced persistent discrimination under the baron's rule.

Many woeful and horrific stories were shared with Aulin from clients and acquaintances. Some recalled friends and family who were vocal about the harsh taxation and tumultuous living standards suddenly going missing overnight. Others told of their experiences with the baron's knights who interrogated them about their peers. A disturbed few became conspiratorially-minded and spoke of a cult, created solely by the baron to perform macabre experiments on citizens. Aulin quickly developed a keen hatred for, and fear of, the baron. He had begun to recognize the context of his work; undoing the baron's torment on his kind.

Over time, he took on various risks to destabilize the baron and empower his own people. Under cloak and armor, he raided caravans transporting rations to the baron's soldiers to distribute in secret amongst the destitute. He made note of guard routines and freely shared his findings. Aulin had begun to surreptitiously rally many others towards his cause to weaken the baron, and inevitably overthrow him. He became the face of an uprising, known only to those who proved able to maintain the movement's secrecy.

In the dead of night, Aulin was requested to meet with a human client who wished to impart pertinent information. As they sat across from each other, illuminated only by candlelight, the man began to speak of the Armaia. His older brother was a knight; a defector who was led astray by the baron's sermon. When confronted with the treacherous acts of the Armaia, he quickly made his leave after speaking with his younger brother, never to be seen or heard from again. The man suspected that the Armaia had likely already found his brother and dispatched him.

Aulin learned of the Armaia's designation of souls, their sacrifices, the spirit anvil, and the prison deep underneath the castle. A frigid cold permeated his bones. The situation was far more dire than he ever could have imagined...and the baron's insidiousness became daunting. Aulin lamented the depth of suffering that his people endured, unbeknownst to him. From that moment on, Aulin was determined to expedite the baron's demise. His efforts were more focused. Shipments containing armaments were forcibly taken. Underneath beds, floorboards, and buried in plots, lowly farmers and workers hid swords, spears, crossbows, and ammunition as they prepared for a violent uprising.

And then, late one night, the baron's men barge into Aulin's cottage. Scouring every room, they find him armed in his bedroom, quickly roused from his sleep at their clamorous forced entry. With nowhere to escape, Aulin was overpowered and restrained. That very same night, the human who had spoken with Aulin was interrogated in his home as a person of interest. He was assured that he would keep his life if he divulged the details of the impending revolt. Otherwise...he would surely be sentenced to a wretched fate, not unfamiliar to him. The man acquiesced, and the baron's men were quickly dispatched to Aulin's domicile.

An eerie orange glow lit up the night sky as Aulin was led from his home. He looked upon the man's small house as people gathered, with the baron's soldiers standing guard around the premises. Aulin's eyes widened in horror. Heavy wooden planks barricaded the door, keeping it tightly shut. The house was engulfed in flames as ribbons of red fire poured out of the windows and withered into the sky.