Tezio Gomst

Biographical information

Birthplace Elbion Born Died Age 29 Home Arethil. Nomadic. Sexuality Pronouns

Physical description

Race Half-Orc Sub-Race Gender Male Height 6'4 Mass Mesomorph; dense. Hair color Dark Eye color Yellow Skin color Light green

Political information

Affiliation(s) Independent Occupation Knight-Errant Clan(s) Caste Domain Masters Apprentices Alias(es)

Out-of-character information

Writer Lazarus Created on 16 Oct 2018 Avatar Fjord - Critical Role

Tezio Gomst is a male half-Orc. He is a wandering Knight from Elbion known to take up any job or task provided its intentions are relatively "good" in nature. He has no known residence but denizens of the Allir Reach have reported seeing him frequently.

An immaculate specimen of a half-blood, Tezio fortunately bears the better attributes of both Man and Orc. The refined countenance of Mankind with its angular cheekbones, jawline and lean musculature that grants an unmistakable silhouette. However, the savage mix of blood that courses through his veins curse Tezio in such a way that he will never truly be one with Man. Miniscule tusks that force his full lips into an eternal pout; coarse, leaf-green flesh, elongated ears, and the wild, yellow eyes of his mother's kind.

Straight-backed and broad-shouldered, Tezio strides ever forward with pride. Even beneath burning glares that mock his parents' coupling he carries himself with grace and dignity, and the sword dangling at his hip definitely helps. His movements are precise and driven, as though perpetually burdened with deep purpose.

Tezio enjoys the flexibility and freedom of movement afforded by simpler clothing, free of jewelry and shiny accoutrements. Double-layered cloth padding, chainmail, leather gauntlets and greaves, and a dark cloak serve to keep him warm during his journey across Arethil.

His armaments are varied and consumable, easy to service but even easier to dispose of lest they become shattered with crushing blows or caked with blood and fat. Passerby might notice a spear and wooden shield one day, a shortsword and buckler the next. Even a shortbow and quiver. But if one were to ask him what he preferred it would be a simple, sturdy longsword.

Tezio understands the deep nuances and intricacies of himself enough to keep pushing forward. Nearly two decades spent wandering all of Arethil on his own two feet, spare a few kind carriage rides with merchants and travelers. Enough time for self-reflection and soul searching, and thousands of hours spent planning for lone expeditions and quests. He knows himself, who he is, and who he wants to be - and that is his greatest strength.



Versatility is his hallmark trait. Despite being a proud, practiced warrior he understands that fighting prowess isn't the only thing that ensures the promise of tomorrow. When the situation calls for blatant brutality and violence, Tezio can and will, bear whatever arms that best ensure victory. Whether it being parrying and cleaving with a longsword, nocking an arrow from a fallen foe's shortbow, or hurling a javelin at beasts and monsters alike.


A knight is expected to be calm, composed, and educated. They must understand the nuance of social gatherings, how to properly address lords and ladies, how to negotiate fair prices and book a room at an inn. And most importantly: how to defuse violence, how to soften blows and win hearts and minds. Tezio is no exception to this rule. Street smarts and refined grace are all within his wheelhouse of social ettiquette; from bowing before nobility to tossing coppers at gloomy-eyed mercenaries blocking roadways.

And lastly, surviving. The roads, forests and mountains of Arethil can be treacherous to an unwary traveler. A smattering of miscellaneous skills is how one wakes up the next morning unscathed and uneaten. Hunting and foraging if need be, erecting camp with knife's edge and fire-rock, how to splint an ankle after a fall, how to bait a hook and moor a canoe. Tezio has learned many of these things both the easy way and the hard way.

To be added later when I'm not so tired.

Tezio's story is... peculiar. One would expect a half-blood from Elbion to have deep-rooted, swelling resentment for those that resented him first, but he doesn't. He's often surprised himself when trying to recall his earliest memories, already knowing how fundamentally different he was from everyone else and how futile it was to swim against the current. The only saving grace this green-skinned, knife-eared babe had was his father. His one and only family member. The Sir Rowan Sanger.

His father had a monumental affect on him. He was one of the few that looked at Tezio with kindness, eyes shone with understanding and compassion yet firm-handed in punishment and correction. The old and grizzled knight had been a former guard captain before his gallantry and decades of loyalty earned him knighthood from one of the lower houses. Despite how low his notch was on the totem pole, this reward filled Rowan with fulfillment, and little Tezio couldn't help but mimic that.

But where was mom? Tezio's father was an honest man, but he never told the truth when it came to her, if the half-blooded kiddo could even get him to talk about her. Sometimes it was a dismissive reply about clinging to her primal roots; the call of the wild forests too strong to contain her within Elbion's walls. Other occasions the question was met with a somber gaze, with Rowan ushering the boy to continue his drills. Still, it was Sir Rowan's insistence that Tezio cling to his mother's clan name. Gomst. Something to never forget.

Tezio had always wanted to be like his dad. The training came easy to him, especially after he'd been sharply kicked out of Elbion College due to a lack of magical prowess - something that still strikes a nerve with him to this day. Afforded a fairly peaceful upbringing and hardship unknown to most of Elbion's denizens. While other boys and girls collected their books and headed to school, the young half-Orc giddily tagged alongside his father as an unofficial squire; drilling in the House barracks with other guardsmen, earning more bruises than he could ever imagine and still showing up the next day with a smile.

If being a knight was good enough for dad, it was good enough for him.

His playthings were wooden swords and shields. His friends, and bullies, wore shining armor. His classroom featured straw dummies and warhorse-filled stables. His lessons were stories of legendary battles and tales of Arethil's greatest warriors. This was his life. This was what he was meant to be.

That is, until he had to kill a man. A caravan escort that was supposed to be a cakewalk, at least that was how his father made it out to be. Bandits and thieves were supposed to be greedy and callous, but never well armed and well organized. It was through their prideful arrogance that allowed them to lower their guard. Tezio can still recall the startled screams of merchant-lords as arrows zipped through the air and deafening cries of wounded plow-horses.

When the startled defenders rallied to engage in melee, the battle had already been lost. Only two souls charged into the fray, Tezio and his father. They screamed, swung in methodical, carving arcs to tear their assailants asunder but there were too many. Too chaotic the battle was that Tezio lost his focus, failing to parry a strike aimed directly at his father.

Sir Rowan Sanger lost his leg that day. A gory, painful affair that flung the half-Orc knightling into the darkest pit of enraged hatred he'd ever experienced. What followed was hazy and difficult to remember past the pounding of his own heartbeat and his father's labored breathing.

Somehow Tezio had managed to pull himself and his dad out of there, bloodied and battered beyond belief. A hastily fastened tourniquet had managed to save Sir Rowan's life, but his son was a mess. It was no wonder that the defenders of Elbion's walls met the wounded pair with such caution, especially Tezio who was covered in more blood than a butchered pig.

Despite making it out of there alive and saving the life of his own father, the Eleven's court was not convinced with the story of what transpired outside of their walls. Only two survivors and an entire caravan and its precious spoils lost to mere road-men. When Tezio expected them to discriminate against him, he found himself disappointed when they didn't. It was a matter of honor. House Knights retreating?

They deemed Sir Rowan's injury punishment enough for the failure of his duties in safeguarding and recovering precious cargo. Tezio, on the other hand, was dismissed. Not an exile so-to-speak but a firm gesture nontheless. If a knight could not be trusted to carry out their duties, they were not wanted here.

So Tezio left with nothing but the clothes on his back.

The following decade and a half were disappointingly uneventful. After his first battle, something within him changed. It hardened him. The road itself and Arethil's surprisingly treacherous expanse matured him into a well-spoken and honed warrior. He took upon countless odd jobs to earn coin and survive, got shuteye wherever he could, and did his best to treat others with the same compassion that his father had.

What's his goal? What's he searching for? Will he ever return home to see his father?

Let's find out together.