Birgir Oathspeaker, the Youthful Wanderluster
Current Rank: Novice w/0XP
Glory: 0
Glory: 0
Bennies:
Edges:
- Brawny: Toughness +1 load limit is Strength x 8
- First Strike: May attack one foe who moves adjacent
Hindrances:
- Heroic (Major) Character always helps those in need
- Illiterate (Minor) Unable to read or write
- Hard of Hearing (Minor) -2 to notice sounds
Languages:
Attributes:
- d8 Agility
- d4 Smarts
- d8 Strength
- d6 Spirit
- d6 Vigor
Skills:
- d10 Fighting
- d6 Climbing
- d6 Intimidation
- d6 Notice
- d4 Survival
- d6 Swimming
Weapons:
- Long spear: Damage d8+d6 - Parry +1, Reach 1, 2 Hands wgt 5lbs
Armor:
- Scale Hauberk (T,A,L) - +2 Armor - 25 lbs.
- Pot Helm - +1 Head 50% head protection - 4 lbs
Gear: (48 lbs / 64 lbs.)
- Bedroll - 4 lbs
- Winter Gear (cloak\Parka) - Adds a +2 to vigor vs cold weather 3 lbs
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Character: Birgir Oathspeaker
Race: Saxa
Origin: Not saying atm
Class: Spearman
Age: Not saying atm
Gender: Male
Height: 6' 2"
Weight: 198 lbs
Today was the day.
Birgir slowly climbed out of his bed, though truth be
told, he hadn't slept a wink last night.
He gingerly tiptoed through the common sleeping room he shared with his
brothers and sisters. They would arise
soon to begin their chores around the farm, but Birgir wanted to be on the road
before they awoke. The goodbyes would be
too hard.
Today was the day.
Birgir crept past the room where his parents were sleeping. If his father was awake, Birgir would only have to listen to another lecture about responsibility. It was his mother that convinced the cantankerous old man to let him leave, and for that Birgir would always be grateful.
Today was the day.
Birgir finally reached the front door to his family's tiny cottage. He looked at the equipment he had left neatly stacked by the door. It had taken him several seasons of odd jobs around the village but he had finally saved enough money to afford his very own weapon and suit of armor. The blacksmith had chuckled as he counted out Birgir's hard earned coin. His departure had become something of a joke around the village. There were even bets being placed on when he would return: freezing, broke, humbled.
As he donned the winter clothes his mother had stitched for him, Birgir thought back on what had instilled him with this wanderlust. The epics of the Skalds had enthralled him since he was a child and he had grown up dreaming of becoming a hero. His parents had hoped that time would temper his desires, but Birgir would not be dissuaded from his path. He would protect the defenseless. He would punish the wicked. He would become a hero his village could be proud of.
Pushing the last of his doubts out of his mind, Birgir quietly opened the front door of the cottage. He took a deep breath of the chilly morning air as he gazed at the road stretched out in front of him.
Today was the day.
Today was the day.
Birgir crept past the room where his parents were sleeping. If his father was awake, Birgir would only have to listen to another lecture about responsibility. It was his mother that convinced the cantankerous old man to let him leave, and for that Birgir would always be grateful.
Today was the day.
Birgir finally reached the front door to his family's tiny cottage. He looked at the equipment he had left neatly stacked by the door. It had taken him several seasons of odd jobs around the village but he had finally saved enough money to afford his very own weapon and suit of armor. The blacksmith had chuckled as he counted out Birgir's hard earned coin. His departure had become something of a joke around the village. There were even bets being placed on when he would return: freezing, broke, humbled.
As he donned the winter clothes his mother had stitched for him, Birgir thought back on what had instilled him with this wanderlust. The epics of the Skalds had enthralled him since he was a child and he had grown up dreaming of becoming a hero. His parents had hoped that time would temper his desires, but Birgir would not be dissuaded from his path. He would protect the defenseless. He would punish the wicked. He would become a hero his village could be proud of.
Pushing the last of his doubts out of his mind, Birgir quietly opened the front door of the cottage. He took a deep breath of the chilly morning air as he gazed at the road stretched out in front of him.
Today was the day.
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