aka: Viscount Gerratti Baranetti.
Age: Old enough to know better
Religious views: complex
Adventuring skills and specialities: wizarding, thinking, portals, reading maps, giving lectures, changing into birds.
Marital Status: Bachelor
Family connections: Related to half of Paravel…the rich half.
Gerratti Baranetti came to the Mage’s Guild of Aberddu shortly before the summer of Fire. He was apprenticed to Elor Nybass, a wizard who spent most of his time interfering in the Adventurers Guild. Curiousity and little better to do with his free time lead Gerratti to become a permanent fixture in the guild. He was renamed Gerard by a bunch of Greenskins who liked him but thought his name was stupid. He is treated with affectionate contempt by the majority of the Adventurers who like him, but don’t want him to get ideas. It’s taken him five years to discover the purpose of pantaloons.
Gerard was clearly no danger with a weapon, except perhaps to himself. Unfortunately, it did not stop him from trying. Keeping him on the right track was proving to be like trying to herd frogs with a teaspoon. The problem was that he was fixated by the fact that she was a woman. He had somehow got it embedded in his head that he would have to escort her; a thought that would have offended Iona had it not been so laughable. She took a deep breath and pressed on to the peak of the mountain. – The Freetown Bridge
“It’s not difficult you moron,” Derek could hear Cassandra saying up ahead. He couldn’t see her, as most of the party had crested a hill and were out of sight on the other side. It was just that the Jaegars’ voices tended to carry. “We’re following a main road, how complicated is that?”
Then he heard Gerard’s nasal retort and sighed. Someone had let Gerard get ahead of the scouts again. For an extremely intelligent man he was useless with both maps and directions. His haughty voice wafted in the afternoon air.
“…and furthermore Madam, I’d be extremely grateful if you could step back out of my personal space.” Derek pushed forward passed the gaggle of Clerics in front of him. He needed to reach the front before Mr Adarius Jaegar decided, for a laugh, he was going to defend Mrs Cassandra Jaegar’s honour by punching Gerard on his somewhat ill-defined chin. Just as he overtook Dingelo the tiny bard, who was clanking like an out of tune one-man-band with every step, he heard the sound he was expecting and dreading. Adarius Jaegar’s distinctive baritone split the stillness.
“Don’t you speak to my wife like that, wizard-boy.” Derek broke into a trot and as he reached the top of the slope. He could see the knot of adventurers where they had collected at a fork in the road about fifty yards ahead. Adarius was squaring up to petulant looking Gerard, whose flabby chin was wobbling with self-righteous irritation. The two men were of roughly comparable and not inconsiderable size. – Dawn of Darkness