Joseph was born the son of Baronet Richter in a small Hamlet just east of Holderness. He was born into a life of privilege but lost his mother due to complications of his birth. Richter took a general lack of interest in his son. Though he cared for Joseph, he seemed to treat him as one would treat a good horse. He taught Joseph the finer points of etiquette. Even to speak in the tongue of the elves. He also taught Joseph the art of swordplay with the help of his knights. Richter was not a compassionate man, but he was fair. This was in contrast to the relationship between Joseph and the estate's head groundskeeper Brent.

The general non-concern of Joseph's father led him to seek out other father figures in his life thus, his friendship with Brent. Brent showed Joseph many things; how to care for the animals, how to tend the fields, how to stitch a deep cut, but most importantly how to respect life and all that is in it. He showed Joseph how "commoners" are not very common at all. And that there are a great number of good and strong people among them. Joseph's life was a good one until one particular event.

Near the turning of Joseph's 19th birthday, his father made a discovery that over the past year Brent had been "stealing" goods from the grounds to bring to less fortunate families. A hard winter had made things difficult with few crops coming to fruition and a general lack of goods moving in and out of the hamlet. Because of this Joseph's father keep a larger number of goods from his people than usual. "It is more important for those who lead to be healthy and thrive," was the response givin when Joseph would question this practice. Having such a small supply Brent had to be slightly more bold in his takings and this is how he was caught.

Brent was locked in the cells until he was to be hanged. Joseph went to his father and pleaded for Brent's release and to absolve him of his crime. "A small transgression can be forgiven. But a year's worth of goods cannot be ignored. If his crime goes unpunished, others will take advantage. I do what must be done. This is what it means to be a noble."

The hangman's noose was taut as the cold biting winter air caused the rope to shrink. As Brent was placed over the trapdoor the air was still and all was silent. With rage burning in his soul and tears filling his eyes, Joseph watch as Brent was placed in the noose.

Time stood still as Joseph watch Brent’s eyes look into his. "Remember," escaped Brent's mouth as the lever was pulled.

The snap of rope clinching.

The pain of a heart ripping.

And the sound of tears falling as a good man was lost to the heavens.

Rage was replaced by sorrow as Joseph made his way to his bed chamber and, exhausted from emotion, fell asleep.

"Remember"

One hour later he awoke and knew his course. He gathered what belongings he could. Gathered a bit of coin and made his way to the family vault. There he broke into the vault and took the family sword.

As he snuck into the darkness of the night, Joseph paused to look back at the life he was renouncing. Knowing full well he would never again have a life of such ease. With his hood pulled over his head, Joseph left, vowing to help misfortunate souls wherever he went.

"Remember"

It has been one whole year since the day that changed his life, but Joseph, going under the name Brent so as to avoid being found, is no brooding hero. He has helped many people and known much happiness.

Sometimes his help was small as in picking cotton or fixing a wagon wheel. Sometimes it was more dangerous as the time he fought three mercenaries who were bothering a bar wench. But always he has been met with kindness from the "common" people.

Joseph stands about 5'10''. He has blond hair and green eyes. He tends to wear a hooded cloak but does not wear the hood all the time as would a dark hero. He still walks and carries himself as a noble because years of training are hard to change. The only other point of note would be that he keeps cloth wrapped around the hilt of his bastard sword at all times to hide his family crest.

Brent finds himself in Brix looking to help, as he often does, but he hears of something that sounds far more important. He hears from the people on the streets of a group of odd looking heroes who brought down a dragon.  “These are people who can do real good! Where can I find these heroes?”  After investigating the North gate district for several hours Brent finds a horse merchant who recalls seeing the “Lizard-man” with the group trying to find a horse large enough to carry him. He seems to recall them heading to an old river tower west of Brix. You could reach them with a horse…”

. "Who knows, maybe I can catch up with these heroes before they reach their destination..........and who am I talking to?"

Brent looks into his nearly empty pockets knowing full well he cannot afford a horse.

With a sigh he thinks,"I knew this was the road I would take when I left, but all those years sure does make me miss the coins."

He checks to ensure he has enough food as he prepares to start a difficult run.

Brent's dreams are unusally disturbing. Yes his wounds made for a rough night though there was something more. His dreams centered around his youth.  Vauge childhood memories of a mud floor shack and of rough wood blankets. The smell of wet fur and of burning offal. The taste of thin gruel. Surely these sensations would have never have played a part in the upbringing of a noble-born.

Brent wakes to soreness and a rumbling stomach, "What a strange dream."

As stretchs he thinks to his training with one of the knights Jerrath and how useful they really were. At the time they seemed rather pointless, but under the current circumstances he was thankful for being taught the ways of battle.

Brent felt a little tougher and a little stronger. Still, he could not shake the dream, "It felt so real."

The past few days events had somewhat rattled Brent, though he did not show it. An undead dragon, a crazed wizard, a priest beheaded, "Such horrors I have seen. But I somehow think I will soon see far worse."

Shaking off the feeling of dread, Brent thinks of his sword style. "I almost exclusivly fight with my sword in two hands. Perhaps I should think of getting something larger when we arrive in Brix."

After arriving at Brix Brent will ask around with the working class (trained in streetwise) to find out what all the celebrating is about. As a side thought he will keep his eyes and ears out for any word of an exceptional blacksmith to enquire about a blade.

((The ole noble trained in Streetwise ploy eh?))

The celebrations center around the fact that caravans began arriving en masse just two days after Omas Bood was elected membership in the cutter’s guild council. You learn the following tidbits  though the truth of these claims can hardly be assured.

Omas is the first elected member from non established family since…….ever!

Omas had claims on several mines west of the Kelix. He made decent coin but usually just sold to other families. He didn’t have a jewelry shop of his own.

Omas returned from his mine three months ago with a harrowing tale. Apparently he and his party came across a  goblin war band who had captured that wizard he runs around with. After a great battle Omas was able to free the old man. Unfortunately all of his party died in the battle. The wizard is now his closest friend!

Omas made friends with that wizard years ago by giving him an emerald large enough to imprison a Demon prince! The wizard is an important member of the Guild in Holderness!

That wizard speaks to the birds! Omas has used his sorcererous powers to enrich his mines! My claims are nearby and haven’t seen a scrap of the riches he comes by!

Brent has wandered through the King's row for several hours now. (Streetwise: the poor section of town) He wanders down a narrow street that doubles back on itself. To his right a four story stone tower which looks much older than the wooden buildings around it looms over a courtyard. Across the courtyard a feildstone foundation supports a two-story inn. A sign above the door swings in the crisp winter air. "Hook's End"

Inside Joseph is confronted by the odor of stale beer and unwashed boddies.Four tables fill the wood plank floor and an open style fire pit send smoke through a chimney. On the far end of the room behind a bar  a dwarf is providing refreshments, a loaded crossbow near at hand. As Joseph approaches the bar through a crowd of ten ruffians playing dice someone grabs his arm and loudly proclaims: “Lookie here boys!” The matted oily hair, rough dress and missing teeth that his accoster possesses are common enough for this crowd though this particular lowlife seems somewhat familiar.

“I served in your lousy estate and it almost cost me my eye! What say you rich boy hand over your coin and those boots and maybe we’ll call it even!” Indeed the foul smelling man had a six inch scar around his left eye though of greater importance was the sharp dagger which appeared in his hand. Before  Joseph could reply, a tumble of dice at another table elicited a roar from the crowd and while attention was temporarily turned to the gambling table a swift poke into the scarred eye gave Joseph an opportunity to reach the exit. Stepping into the night he could hear both the howls of agony from the thug and of laughter from the other hooligans.

His family has made a lot of enemies among the lower classes, even this far from home it may be wise to keep a low profile when traveling in rough neighborhoods.

Having recovered from his own sickness Brent is very concerned to see his friend not doing well. Using his finely honed street connections (Streetwise) he is able to track down a “Manual of bodily perfection” which contains the ritual for curing disease. Unfortunately the owner of the tome is asking 500 Marks for it and then there still is the matter of casting it.

Brent knows of a skilled healer in the lands of his father though. It is a many days travel and not a place he would expect a warm welcome if news of his arrival spread.

(Forgive the lateness in the response. Been extremely busy as of late.)

Brent tells the party he has some personal things to attend to and wanders of. He really has nothing to do just needs time to think about a trip to his homeland.

The very thought sends chills down his spine. Would his father have him arrested? Would he be ignored and treated as though he never existed?

After stepping into a local tavern and having a few pints, Brent begins to forget all his troubles, as well as those of his comrades.

After gaining his wits in the morning he feels he should tell his friends of his background and that there may be help in his homelands.

Searching for nearly the whole day, he learns that his party has left for the Feyfields. Guilt overtakes Brent but a little relief as, out of drunken stupidity, he does not have to explain his past.

He gathers himself and prepares to follow the party to the feyfields and make amends for his folly.

Abandoning his friends to the bottle in a time of need; Perhaps I have more in common with my father than I’d like to admit. During his night of drink he meets several of the working men of Brix. They speak of leadership and of role of government. Between flagons he learns that the common man thinks great things of Omas Bood. They think he should probably dissolve the assembly and take charge himself. It’s probably wise that his wizard friend there was appointed grand vizier.  Food for thought anyway.
After a long night of drinking,  Joseph finds himself a little lighter in coin and a little worse for wear. Once his head clears Joseph sets off through the snow towards Feyfields.  During the journey he meets   several refugees fleeing shattered bridge. Apparently a great beast has taken up across the bridge in Whitehall and though no forays into the city have happened, the sight of a great undead dragon silhouetted against the moon is enough to drive folks north to safer ground.
Upon his arrival in FeyFields Joseph learns of Naddaresh’s death. While he doesn’t know the abilities of the druids he can’t help but think the healer in his hometown could have saved him...If only he had been more forthcoming.

The fact that he burried himself in drink is only made worse with the thought of an undead dragon on the lose. "This in not the time to lose ones head."

Joseph decides to focus on his swordplay on the trip to the FayFields. A strange calmness over takes him everytime he practices. "Hmm....I have read that the elves have a fondness for swordplay, perhaps Dayereth has some skills that I could learn."

The silhouette of a dragon accompanied by it's roar pulls Joesph from his thoughts. "This is something that must be rectified."

The next day Joseph's mind is wracked with thoughts of his homeland. Should he let his comrades know of his history? Would they treat him differently? Would they hound him with questions?

All of these questions leave his mind however when he learns of the death of Nadarresh. But a glimmer of hope in a possible ressurection makes Joseph's heart lift a little. He decides to focus on his swordplay while it is discussed what to do.

Resting in the healers old home gives Joseph time with his thoughts. He still feels a great amount of guilt for having abandonded his friends to the bottle when the healer Jessica from the estate could have helped Nadarresh.

Memories of his home flood into his mind as he dreams. He remembers the story of his family name and the name of his estate, Venyrth.

"Long ago when the elves held rule the dark invasion came. During this time few humans gave help but for a few families. Gregor Trannyth was in one of those families. He held in his hands a sword the size of most men and a smile that would warm the hearts of even the coldest people. When the hordes came many of the monsterous beasts were cleaved in twain by his might.

The elves began to refer to him as "Venyrth". Which, later explained, apparently meant swordsoul. For you see, Gregor had little training. Yet when in battle he fought with not the ferocity of a bear, but the cunning of a fox. In battle many would witness a calm come over him and watch Gregor prevail where lesser men would fall.

One night at a keep on the outskirts, when all were exausted, the hordes came in full force. The keep was sure to fall and so began the retreat. While many were fleeing Gregor held the beasts at bay. He layed fifty to the earth, some claim a hundred and I have heard from a very old elf now in seclusion that no less than two hundred fell to his blade as it sang through the air.

Regardless of how many he killed there is no exaggerating the number he helped save that night. For his valor, the elves rewarded him with lands of his own. He would also be known as Gregor Venyrth, a title bestowed to only the most renowned of swordsman.

This is the story of how this estate and you gained it's name. This is also your history Joseph, never forget the honor and respect that goes along with how this name was earned. Remember."

Joseph wakes with a start as the morning light begins to pour into the old home. The dream, which seemed far to real, made him realize the truth must be told. Perhaps he should tell the party about his past once they have delt with the current problem. Whether he tells everyone now or not matters little if they all become trees.

While the others decide to head towards the large tree Joseph decides to part and stay in the village. "I still think there is more to be learned here, why was the dwarf the only one not turned to a sapling."

As he wanders around the town his thoughts wander as well. 'I must win back his honor to his friends. I should return his fathers's family sword. How did these people suddenly turn to trees? I wonder if Dayereth can actually use his blade. Was that troll working for someone? Can these people hear me as trees? I'm hungry. I wonder if the sun is feeding these people.' Brent shakes his head in frustration. "Bah, it's impossible for me to think right now!"

He pulls his blade out and attempts to focus as he practices his forms.

After the fights with what seemed to be the forest itself attacking, Joseph thinks about how close to death he came.

He could sware that Brent came to him and said, "It is not your time. There is still much to be done."

Tears well up in his eyes as he thinks on this when suddenly the dragon lands upon him and his comrades camp.

The time spent in the few weeks after fighting the giant spider queen were relativly quite (hopefully). This gave Joseph some time in the city. Having invoked his name was somewhat liberating. Up until that moment he had been hiding but now all he could do was wonder what was going on in his home estate.

Was his father truely vieing for power or was this is defence of a pending attack? So many thoughts flooded his mind as he reached into his pocket to pull out the emerald that the man that showed them the spider nest, who's name he never learned, had givin after saving the young girl.

"Hmm.....this does not feel right to take such a thing after that man has lost so much."

Joseph decided to take to the streets to try to gather some knowledge of a few things. (streetwise trained) There are several things he will be looking for; First, he will be looking for a smithy or seller of weapons in search of a falchion to purchase, Second, he will try to find out anything more about the current "arms" race between the local lords and more so about his father, Third, he will ask about any word of a man who spoke of giant spiders and a saved daughter and return his gem to him because it's right, and finally, he will seek out a library to try and read more about Gregor Venyrth.

Joseph discovers he is having much difficulty moving about Holderness. While it may be a relief to pronounce his heritage it attracts far too much attention. Between beggars, angry freemen, agents of the Grable family, and soldiers of his fathers he has taken to wearing a hooded cloak to avoid confrontations.

His expectations on the ease of finding a smith willing to construct  such an exotic blade were somewhat unrealistic especially given his identity. Still he was able to find but a used blade sold from a cart outside the southern banks city wall. The shady peasant seemed only to happy to relieve him of 30 marks for the blade obviously scavenged from a recent battlefield. The recent influx of refugees from shattered bridge is providing the resource of people with very little to loose to refuel  dormant feuds between the minor nobility.

(The only library apart from noble houses he knows of would be in the mage's guild and considering his identity and the recent activities in Brix he considers it wise to leave a somewhat wide berth between him and that tower.)

Still who better to tell the story of the fall of Gregor Venyrth than his own progeny? The fall from Elector to petty nobility in the span of a single generation. The principled stand against the emperor which cost his family their place in the court of Hilderbrand and banished them to small holdings in the south?  Five generations is not so long a time that people should forget, yet they do.

((ahh the dramatic reveal of the extended rest...Im sure we all cant wait!))