Roelon (prime)

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Roelon McColend
Roelon McColend (Created using MidJourney)
Behold, the mighty kilt!
Race Giantman
Culture Wsalamir Arctic Clan
Hometown Icemule
Class Ranger
Profession Kilted Defender

Icemule Councilor

Religion Ronan, protector of the realm of night and dreams.
Affiliation(s) Member of the Landing Defense Irregulars

Member of Regulators of the Northern Frontier Member of Moonshine Manor Master in the Order of Voln Member of House of the White Haven

Disposition Adventurous, humorous, brave.
Demeanor A big softy and steeled.
Flaw Foolish actions as a youth that haunt him to this day.
Greatest Strength The Kilt! And his determination to fight for what is right for all of Elanthia.
Greatest Weakness Ale, Kilts, many more.
Habits Kilt Flares and Blessings.
Hobbies Helping others, Forging a blade or two.
Likes Ale, Kilts and strong women.
Dislikes Disloyalty, Barnom Slim, Grishom Stone.
Fears Succumbing to the dark. Hurting his friends and family. Failing in his duty and promise.
Loyalties His homes, Icemule and Wehnimers. His Clans, the Wsalamir of the north and the Hooligans.
Best Friend He has met many in his many years in the lands.
Spouse None
Loved One Yes
Children None that he knows of.

Roelon McColend was a candidate who is running for a Town Council position in the 5120 Icemule Trace Mayoral Race.

Accepted the position by the Icemulians vote in 5121 and became Town Councilor.

You See Roelon

You see Roelon McColend the Town Councillor of Icemule Trace.

He appears to be a Giantman of the Wsalamir Clan.

He is taller than average. He appears to be full grown. He has piercing blue-tinged silver eyes and tanned skin. He has long, braided white hair loosely entangled in a ponytail by a thin chain of veil iron thorns entwined with silver wire. He has a broad face, a classical nose and a neatly-trimmed beard with an icy blue streak down one side. Obscured behind his beard is a rugged, muscular jawline that is further emphasized by weather-worn cheeks. A faceted sliver of grey shadowglass is positioned between his eyes, which casts a sparkling pale grey sheen across his face.

He has some converging Saramar runes on his neck, a tattoo of a somber black dragon that coils upwards from jaw to temple, and a circular blue tribal tattoo on his neck.

He is in good shape.

He is wearing a wintry black leather duster, an old dark silver insignia of ruby-inlaid crossed waraxes, a carved wendigo totem strung from a leather cord, a silvery tartan-furred dormouse, a mechanical limb, a scaled black leather travel pack, a studded dark alloy weapons bandolier, a dark alloy scaled leather coat-of-plates adorned with a single rhimar-studded pauldron, a vine-etched aranthium armlet, some rugged ebon leather gloves with rhimar studs set in each knuckle, a veil iron signet ring entwined with rolaren, a massive Wsalamir herb kit crafted from wintery grey animal furs, a patchwork tartan hip-satchel crafted from repurposed kilts stitched together, a chewed-on dark tartan sack, a brushed black leather saddlebag, a roughly knit woolen kilt threaded with rhimar studs, and some blackened leather hiking boots.

About Roelon McColend

Roelon McColend (Roe’l Oinious McColend) was born in the mountains of the Dragonspine in the clan of the Wsalamir. He was raised by his father, a Giantkin serving the Turamzzyrian Empire in the south as a soldier, who inspired his son to become a Knight.

Roelon left at an early age to seek out his mother. His father had told him that she was a spiritweaver, and that he had met her during an expedition in the north before he had joined the infantry. Roelon's adventure led him to Wehnimer's Landing during the Great Griffin Sword War. Through the Chaos, Roelon met the men who would become his brothers by bond: Duoncon and Randsford. He would later meet many more close to him as they adventured north to Icemule, closer to finding his clan and his mother.


Roelon's Speech

This speech was given on the evening of 06/24/5120 in Icemule Trace.

Reiphe says, "Roelon McColend, of the Wsalamir."

Roelon pulls the folds of his black woolen kilt more tightly around his waist.

Roelon takes a few steps toward a weathered spruce podium.

Roelon takes a few steps toward a weathered spruce podium.

Roelon nods.

Roelon deeply says, "Tracers, Mulians, Citizens and friends of Icemule Trace, ah want to thank ye all and the town for allowin mahself to be ere. Mah name is Roelon McColend. Ah am nae one for speeches so forgive me."

(Roelon holds back the folds of his kilt and bows as gracefully as a Giantkin could.)

Roelon deeply says, "I kin see mahself in each of our Mayor candidates."

Roelon deeply says, "Ah hae always helped others all across Elanthia as far as mah legs could take me and as long as ah kin remember. Ah stand up for those who cannae themselves. Ah learn the ways of magic that mah Clan has taught me to do this. And ah do like to strike ah bargain or two for ah know the weight coins carry in our life."

(Roelon pauses for a moment to steel himself.)

Roelon slowly empties his lungs.

Roelon deeply says, "Wehnimer Landing, ah hae seen troubled times and survived the wars there over that bloody sword and Mandis crystals. Ah too hae lived the troubles of the Terate, the Vvrael and the challenging times of Thurfel and those Liches."

Roelon deeply says, "Ah traveled to the Elven nations and aided them in times of need, only to return and find Wehnimer's plagued by summoners in red. And even now the town still suffers from the lingering conflict from this."

Roelon deeply says, "However, ah am seeing mah old home continue to struggle with its own problems and ah want to help as much as ah kin. The home of the Hooligan clan, where mahself, mah brother Duoncon, and Randsford would seek out adventure to find our purpose."

Roelon stares outward, his expression black and tinged with melancholy, as he clutches the leather coat-of-plates at his breast.

Roelon deeply says, "The bravest ah am not, nor am ah the smartest or the wealthiest. I am just an old Giantkin who hae seen our world grow and this town change as it s faced so many tough times in the past."

Roelon deeply says, "And now our town is facing more.. The taint from the abbey as we all know is causin problems here. And it endangers us all."

Balling his hand into a tight fist, Roelon raises it defiantly skyward as a frosty, shimmering cloud surrounds his glove, and then quickly fades.

Roelon deeply asks, "How can we make the town appealing to others while it is nae even safe for our own?"

Roelon deeply asks, "More then that... what kin ah offer to aid the Mayor in this challenge?"

Roelon smiles.

Roelon deeply says, "To whi ever Mayor we end up electing, ah pledge if chosen as ah Councilor or nae to aid them in enhancing our great town. With all mah heart, mah kilt and mah experience in this diverse land of ours."

Roelon deeply says, "To help our Citizens and visitors find comfort and safety within these walls."

Roelon deeply says, "To offer and accept aid from the neighborin towns in times of need and strengthen the trade between us."

Roelon deeply says, "And most importantly to heighten the understandings between Truefolk and Tallfolk alike."

Roelon nods.

Roelon deeply exclaims, "As much as we are all different we are the same, as we are the people of Icemule Trace!"

Roelon lets out a cheer!

Roelon coughs.

Roelon deeply says, "Ah..thank ye for yir time."

Roelon forcefully crosses one arm over his leather coat-of-plates and offers a formal bow.

(Roelon wanders off to the food cart.)

Roelon blushes a glowing shade of red.