Aptitude: Kinetic 4
MUS 8 +1 CS
PER 6 +1 CS
INT 6 +1 CS
VIT 6 +1 CS
Size: 14 (X Vitality = 84 + toughness (1) = 88 Resilience)
- Combat: Armor Use 1, Grapple 1, Shoot 2, Melee 4, Fend 3, Evade 2, Propel 2,
- Diplomatic: Lore: Dunstrand 3, Persuasion 1, Survival: Urban 3, Lore: Heraldry 3
- Languages:Literacy: Gladnorean 2, Speak Gladnorean 4,
- Rogue: Appraising 1, Security: ID/Disarm 2, Security: Open Lock 2, Gaming 1, Stealth 3, Camouflage 3
- Misc: Ride Horse 1
Vice-Ridden (new), Good Luck, Compulsion: Tall Tales/Boasting (WPR check), toughness 1, tithe 10%, Code of Conduct, connection,
Familiarity (swords), familiarity (shields), familiarity (improvised), familiarity: spears
CHI = 28
(Enc. Capacity = Size x Muscle; 14 × 8 = 112)
Crossbow, 10 bolts, 10 ‘stopper’ metal bolts (half range/base 12 damage), short sword of value (2 CS),
- Mule with saddle bags
- Sword: Broad (12 base dmg), Short (8 base dmg)
- Crossbow, Light (20m/8 dam/6 AM)
- Fitted Cuirboulli (AV 16 / AR 130), leather (8/60)
- small wooden shield (+1 CS block; AV / AR )
Vraxen came from the Dunstrand Rising – The Beginning campaign…
FAME = 15 (Dunstrand)
Concept: trouble shooter/security expert; Connection: Black MArket
Father was the captain of the guard in Bergen (in Bar-Innis/Dunstrand), mother was a serving wench; he is a bastard.
Adventured with Morgent, Porthias, Sandovhal, Hareen, and Bailyn. Not friendly with Djuril (once Herald and now majordomo of the Earl’s court), Last heard of in the Band of Crows, then chose to make his fortune elsewhere
Month 7, 9139 CY; Came to Dunstrand City with an entourage of the Earl of Bar-Innis in order to serve his interests with the Duke. His penchant for stretching the truth at first makes him a colorful character and popular – especially his tales of travel in the north. However, his boastful nature soon gets the better of him and he becomes an embarrassment on several occasions. The Heralds of Bar-Innis release him from his duty, procuring for him an appointment of Sergeant in the Dukes house guards.
The Fight Legend: Dolgrath Pritchard, an aging knight, the uncle to the famous Sir Hugh Pritchard, and Vraxen were both trying to woo the same lady and came to blows. Steel was drawn and a duel commenced. Up and down the streets they fought as the sun set, neither gaining the upper hand. They fought until it became a brawl in the muddy streets – until finally Vraxen conceded the fight gracefully, acknowledging that the old bear had proven his worth and was still the champion so many remembered. But Pritchard would not let it go, and while Vraxen knelt, he attempted to kill him. However, Vraxen dove forward, cutting his legs out from under him, and Dolgrath fell, impaling himself on his own knife and dying. Vraxen arranged for full military honors
at his funeral.
The Real Story: It was a drunken brawl – under it all, it was that. But it was over a whore. At one point, Vraxen yelled out “You old bag of wind – i’ve shit myself and I cant see” – who knows know if it was shit or mud in his eyes. The whore laughed and threw her kerchief and both of us lunged, colliding with each other.
The old bastard lurched forward, kerchief in had after knocking my off my feet. He was
heading for the meat platter, shouting how he was ‘king’ and his victory had made him hungry, pulled out his knife, slipped in some horse shit and fell on his own blade. It was a dirty tavern and everyone was drunk. Certainly no one of repute saw what really happened, and the story just got more outrageous over time – and Vraxen did nothing to fix it. He paid for the funeral out of guilt.
Month 10, 9140 CY; He begins his tenure as a Sergeant of the Dukes house guards. It is a boring job, and one that brings him close to the ladies of the court. He disgraces one such married woman with his boastfulness and indiscretion. He is immediately but on ‘special duty’ and sent to the remote reaches of the fief of Dunstrand to guard over the Duke’s cattle herd.
Month 4, 9141 CY; His prowess and what is left of his reputation catapult him to the top of the social pile in the remote house of Baron Redben. His spirits and mirth soon
make him popular, and his boastfulness makes him the toast and life of the parties.
He binges however, with little else to do, and his drinking and boastfulness catch up to him once again. After successfully leading the defense of an attack on the herd from Orrish at night, he promptly gets drunk and lets the herd be raided by tribesmen during the day. He is finally let go from the Duke service.
Month 11, 9141 CY; He returns to Dunstrand City and begins to burn through all his hard earned money he saved up over the years. He ends up owing a certain money lender an excessive amount of silver and is forced into providing muscle for a local named Pekki Netherwood – obviously the boss of the money lender. Pekki has an associate named Abani – a half orc. This half spawn and him find out they have some acquaintances in common – Porthias and Sandovhal. Finding himself throwing caution to the wind, he and Abani become fast friends. He is shunned by many of the others in the organization that works for Pekki, but Vraxen feels more comfortable with Abani than the other mercs, cut-throats and thieves.
9142, Month 6, Day 10; Abani puts Vraxen in touch with a group he said is working for Pekki. They just did a job – there’s rumors abounding that they did not do well – and are on their way out of town. Abani introduces them and says Vraxen would be a good addition to the team and help on the task at hand. Headed SW into the Riverdans, Vraxen joins up with the group.
Vraxen Leaves the Quest for Ancient Blood
Vraxen, having once again landed in the midst of an adventuring group that seems to be drawing a lot of attention to itself, has decided to sabotage himself and leave for fear of “screwing up” again and burning his bridges. He has made a small fortune on his latest expedition and believes now is the time to head to a large city and become anonymous for a while – losing himself in the crowd. His friend Jiles sense there is something wrong, but Vraxen wont talk to him. Having secured their freedom from the latest peril, Vraxen leaves no note, says no good byes and slips away in the middle of the night. His friends discover his absence in the morning and Jiles shares his impressions that he was afraid his horrible luck was going to turn the party against him, as it always seems to. There is much anger, mostly because they mourn the loss of a good warrior and a man who they trusted their lives with and who earned that trust. They drink to his passing and all agree that the door is left open and their is no hard feelings.