Jeroph kept his head under the treated leather cloak.  Pounding rain disgrunted the man. His first campaign was choked in rain, and it was a bane to half his abilities. fire spells were dosed by the down pour and lightning spells became much more deadly.<br/><br/>The warmage held the reigns of his steed as the tor came into view. The night was atrocious and he desired warm, even if he had to produce it. A tunic of blue was starting to darken as the rain slipped under his cloak aided by the winds. His hair was thankfull pulled back. Wet hair and wet armor lead to death by cold. Over the tunic was a jirkin of studded leather, bracers, a tasset and greeves, matched the armor.  From his saddle hung a set of javelins, a longspear and a wooden shield. Sitting on his right was a light crossbow. It was safe to assume that, he had a dagger or two. Riding on a tan mare, he kept going toward the tor.<br/><br/>Jeroph looked like an infantryman, heading home. Though the those with a trained eye, would see the barding and sigils of the Ardent Warmage Acadmemy resting on the shield and leather the human wore.<br/><br/>((new characters are also level one I assume.  Etheir way, warmages are fun.))