Dark Moon Rising
a troubled mercenary with a guardian angel
Strength 14 HP 14 Dexterity 13 Basic Speed 6 Basic Move 5 IQ 11 Perception 10 Willpower 11 Health 12 Fatigue 10
Dodge: 9 (11) Parry: 10 (12) Block: 10 (12 w/ medium shield)
Fearless 4 pt Blessed 10pt High Pain Threshold 10pt
Vow 15pt hunt creatures of the night(undead, spirits, etc.)
Alcoholism 10pt in withdraw
Disciple of Morrow/ Mercenary Code 5pt. (spread faith, prayer, yearly pilgrimage, observes holy days, ritual prayer on occasions, exercise compassion, mercy, forgiveness, protect the meek) (This sometimes conflicts with his mercenary code: protect the company, never run when some are still in danger, be as effective as possible, give quarter when asked, exercise mercy on noncombatants, support the company in work or funding)
Quirks Prone to Urgolian Cursing Fits 1pt Likes the woods, hiking, and open air 1pt Likes his sleep, may get irritable if interrupted 1pt Dull 1pt Dislikes flattery 1pt
Languages Urgolian Spoken 3 Written 1
Ordic Spoken 2 Written 3
Skills 17 pt Armoury 10 Brawling 13 Climbing 12 Crossbow 13 Fast Draw (Broadsword) 13 First Aid 11 History (Religious) 9 Intimidation 10 Broadsword 14 Hidden Lore 10 creatures of the woods (ogres, cannibal spirits, etc.) Shield 14 Stealth 10 Survival 10 Swimming 12 Tactics 10
Broadsword Sword $500 3 lb. Crossbow $150 6 lb. 15 bolts $30 1.5 lb. Medium Shield $60 15 lb. Mail Hauberk $230 25 lb DR: 4/2* H. leather Leggings $60 4 lb. DR: 2 H. leather Sleeves $50 2 lb. DR: 2 Gauntlets $100 2 lb. DR: 4 Boots $80 3 lb. DR: 2 62 lb. Backpack Whetstone Extra straps/ buckle or two @70
He was the slowest of them, but his step was sure. He kept his eyes on the darkness like the rest. In front of him, his companions formed a line of shadow which moved slowly in and out of the brush. Momentary, metallic gleams marked the tips of the axes and hammers they held. Vanya, as he was affectionately called, was the only one who carried a sword, a mark of his Morrowan faith. The others were all strict traditionalists, warriors and huntsmen of the Motherland. Vanya, the slowest, the strange one- they let him take the rear. Besides, they laughed, “Let Morrow be the shield of our asses. I, Orlov, trust in the old gods, and they will guide my hammer.” Or, like they said during the last smoke break, “What exactly do you think that paddle will do to the forest wurms? And your feet are still lumbering from all of those books you read. No, you will take the rear.”
And so these thoughts ran through his mind, as his eyes watched his troupe deftly lead further into the forest. The pine needles softly crunched beneath their feet, and their steps gently echoed off the trunks of trees. Despite his best efforts, Vanya couldn’t hear a thing clearly. He didn’t notice the large trunk slithering from a wet hole in the ground. He didn’t hear it open its mouth in moist anticipation, nor see its fangs the size of daggers which it proudly gnashed. But when it turned to face him, he saw it glittering eyes, and at that moment, he knew evil. He only spoke a feeble, “Morrow…” and gripped the cool metal symbol on his chest, but the quickness came upon him. It was the quickness of Morrow which guided his clumsy steps, and let him throw himself into the brush as it struck the air by his torso.
Seconds later, when he recovered, he heard Orlov’s cry, and looked to see his captain grimacing in horrified agony at his mutilated arm. His hammer lay bloodied on the ground, and his hand hung in bits from the mouth of the wurm. In seconds, three others had their limbs torn from their bodies, but Petre struck the beast on the brow and popped its eye ball. Lastly, almost shamefully, Vanya thrust his sword into its neck. It screeched a piercing cry which dropped Vanya and Petre, and in their confusion, they never had a chance to even react before it grabbed Orlov’s body and dragged him into the abyss of the deep pine woods. With only two remaining, Petre and Vanya dragged their fallen and screaming comrades to safety in the nearby rocks. For once, Petre did not complain when Vanya said the evening prayers- this time over the bodies of all three of their brave friends. The Iron Wolves officially retired that night.
… But in the time that he had spent with The Iron Wolves, he gained a love of drink. The old gods respected men who could drink and be bold, and still be wise. Whether it was in a far off place, or at home in their beloved wintry forests, those were some of the best of times for Vanya. And though he was often the butt of their jokes, he knew they all had a certain measure of respect for both him and his strange god, Morrow. He never told them that he joined them to hunt the fell beasts, not for the love of the hunt, but to lay as many evils to rest as possible before his life ran out.
Birth- to a blacksmith and seamstress
Younger years- grew up doing poorly in school, was always getting in trouble because he was pig-headed, but it made matters worse that he would go missing for weeks exploring the woods his sister, Katerina, was a brilliant star in the village
15- noticed a number of strange signs in the woods- strange carvings in the tree trunks, blood tracks, as if a hunting party had tracked its prey and stuck it well (with a spear) and then let it drag itself to death. Other signs: strange howls, and tracks that were neither human nor wolf, but both. (He was told to ignore these things, told not to wander so far)
17- his sister goes missing, on the way home from the weekend village dance. The village organizes to search the woods, but never sets off to find Katerina. A war party descends upon the village, dressed in beasts’ horns and furs, painted, and howling. One or two seemed to be wolfmen, men with the heads of wolves, but who wielded crafted weapons. The entire village was slaughtered. Only Vanya survived…because hid in horror. (He had killed one of the men who wore horns, but looked up to find the village overwhelmed. He watched from hiding as his father and mother was killed. His neighbors were cut down as they ran. …There he learned that in life, the mighty decide justice.)
18- He spends the next year traveling, until he meets a hermit. This hermit is a monk who follows the Morrowan faith. He went by the name of Ossian. He stays here and learns the meaning of peace and also, a little of the myriad of evil that exists.
22- Overcome with shame and a desire to affect some sort of change, he travels and reaches Five Fingers. There he works as a mercenary, drinks plenty of sangre, and gets himself into a few of gun fights, skirmishes, wild goose chases. Within a year, he finds the Iron Wolves. They seem like the perfect mix of the old world Motherland and his new mercenary lifestyle. They were a well-known group of hunstmen who hunted creatures of the night, but they only accepted those of Urgolian blood.
23- Not long after Vaun joined, the Iron Wolves disbanded, after a terrible battle with a forest wurm. He spends the next two years drunk, getting into many fights, losing his money, and barely getting by.
26- Through a number of casual events, he returns to his faith for peace of mind. He spends the next year weaning himself off alcohol and doing more blacksmithing. At the end of this time he meets Opifera who offers him a job.