About Dane GrahnCrunch:
Dane Grahn
LE Human Fighter STR 18
HP: 19
Skills:
Languages:
Feats:
Traits:
Drawback:
9000XP Equipment:
Steel Rhomphaia Steel Lamellar Buckler 100ft Rope Blacksmith Anvil Masterwork Weapon Artisan Tools Masterwork Armor Artisan Tools Bellows 100lbs of Charcoal Light Wagon Two Mules Masterwork, Living Steel Buckler Masterwork Rhomphaia Mithral Masterwork Platemail 2 Cold Iron Throwing Axes Alchemically Silvered Cestus Furs Waterskins x2 Fighter's Kit Whetstone Sergeant Blackerly's Masterwork Longsword
1010 GP
Crime:
Dueling unto Death: Dane's tribe being a firm supporter of duels between two warring faction's best warriors elected Dane to seek out the enemy commander and slay him. Typically, this duel would've been overlooked in the battle around him, but Dane was convicted and captured due to him being the last of his tribe to quit the field, making the audience to his killing quite large. Background:
Dane was born to the Iraen peoples of the Caer Bryr. He was raised as an apprentice to the blacksmith of his tribe, but truly found his calling every summer when it became the season for war. When the needs of the harvest were easily enough ignored, the men of the tribe all gathered arms and set forth to maraud across the country side. Whether against a rival faction in the tribe, travelers, or other settlements of the Talireans, it didn't matter. All that mattered was paying homage to the old ways and seeking glory and honor on the battlefield. When the war season was over, and it was time for everyone to return and help with the harvest, Dane would quietly return to his work, but always eagerly awaiting the next year's raids. As time passed, Dane came to have a small amount of recognition in the tribe for his prowess in battle, and while no war leader, was oft' called upon as one of the tribe's premier warriors. In fulfilling these duties, Dane's path towards prison was set. As the Iraen's began one of their annual raids into Talirean territory, the tribe ran afoul of one of the border garrisons. Engaging the defense with zeal, Dane called out the Talirean commander for single combat. The two fought ferociously as the battle around them turned in the Talireans favor. As the Iraens began to route and flee towards home, the enemy commander was brought to his knees. In a fit of rage at the sight of his men fleeing the battle, abandoning him and victory to the civilized folk, Dane lashed out and slew his beaten opponent. In the aftermath Dane was surrounded, and told to lay down his arms and submit himself to their rightful arrest. Dane refused, but was quickly subdued despite his massive strength. Dane now rots away in the prison of Branderscar, awaiting his execution for not accepting an honorable surrender in a duel. He currently waits quietly, engaging the guards in small talk in hopes of lowering their guards for when he makes his escape attempt. Personality:
Typically a kind, jovial, friendly sort of man, Dane wears this persona as a mask to cover his darker side. Feeling nothing of remorse for his misdoings, Dane recognizes that he's different from the average Talirean, or even the average Iraen. Hiding this behind this friendly nature, Dane grew to love the battlefield, as the one place he could display himself fully as he was, and be declared a hero, not a criminal. Appearance:
To describe Dane as a "Mountain of a Man" would be overdone, but not off the mark. Standing at 6'6" and weighing 241lbs, Dane towers above most of his kind. His wavy dirty blond hair was always kept long, but has grown far more ragged and unkempt in prison than he usually allows it to be. His beard, normally well groomed has also fallen into a state of dishevelment. With his escape of the prison, has come a happy return to hygiene. RP Sample:
I had heard that Father Renault was going to be paying me a visit today, I began looking forward to it with much anticipation. Annoying the flimsy old fool had been the only thing I had to entertain myself, stuck in this dank prison cell as I was. I began preparing all of my counter arguments, hoping to get another rise out of the old man. Yet when he came, he seemed tired, half-hearted in his efforts to get a sinner like me to repent to his false gods. He asked me if I would repent, I said only if he could give me a good reason to. He told me of Mitra's charity and honor, and that if I were to repent that I could still be considered for the higher planes. I countered that I still did not believe that this Mitra he spoke of existed, his stunning riposte was to make a small display of his "divine" magic, to which I merely countered again that as we live in a world where a man can speak fire into existence by his own will and nothing more, that I was less than impressed.
Father Renault sighed heavily, any anger I'd manage to conjure within him spent. "In this case, are there any final wishes that I could help you with?" I had smiled in return and replied, "Actually yes, go buy yourself a whore for me Renault. Assuming that it still works, it may help you relax!" My laughter rang throughout the prison, as the old Father simply frowned, seeming oddly saddened. He turned and left without another word. Stretching after this little exercise, I stood and propped myself against my cell door. Looking through the bars, I saw Thomas standing at his designated post, close enough to view every cell in the hall, but away from any hands like mine that may grasp at him. Out of all the guards, he was my favorite. You could see in the way he moved, and in his eyes that despite being one of the king's men-at-arms, he was prey. It was doubtful that Thomas even realized this himself, yet he was all the same. He'd never killed before, that much was certain, much more so that he'd never seen true combat. If it came to taking another life, one could be almost certain that he would hesitate. This frailty is exactly why I liked him so much. He may have had the age of a man, but he was still but a foolish child. Thomas was watching me out of the corner of his eye, I must've been staring. "Thomas," I called to him. "I apologize for my strange behavior. As a priest, he could never have understood my last requests." Thomas raised an eyebrow, but he was getting used to my speaking to him, it was time to advance things further. "As a fellow warrior, it would please me if you would be the one to hear my final request." Thomas rolled his neck, apparently not used to the weight of a helmet as much as I was. "Your execution date is still at least a couple of weeks off, keeps getting moved back for more important criminals." I raised my eyebrow in response to that, this was more than he'd ever told me before. Talking absent-mindedly, he continued "You're in here for killin' someone, but you at least let 'im know you were gonna try before you did it. Warden's been putting a higher priority on clearing out murderers and heretics first." Thomas shrugged "Or so I've heard." Interesting though it was, this was probably just the idle gossip of bored guardsmen. "Well, seeing as I have time, I'll wait to give you my last request. But if you wouldn't mind chatting with me, I'd appreciate it." Thomas took the bait surprisingly easily, the work of weeks of small talk finally paying off. "Beats standing in that one spot all day." He approached the cell, but still maintained a cautious distance. I'd hoped he'd be foolish enough to approach my cell door, but I had to progress this a little at a time. Laughingly, I had joked "Ah but if not for your great heroism and sacrifice, who else would keep that wall up? Or make sure that that stone in the floor doesn't try a harrowing escape?" It was a poor joke, but it served its purpose as Thomas chuckled a little, glancing over his shoulder to make sure his ranking officer wasn't suddenly behind him, demanding he return to his post. We chatted over no particular subject for a couple of hours. Over the course of time, I tested Thomas' sense of self preservation, as I lowered the tone in which I spoke lower, and lower, and lower. And obligingly, unwittingly, Thomas stepped a little closer each time, to hear what I had to say. Eventually he was close enough for me to reach him, even through the bars. I'd tested how far I could reach earlier one night when the changing of the guards was held up for idle conversation much like me and Thomas were in. I could fit my arm through, up to my elbow. Thomas had entered this area without knowing it, the keys to the cells loosely dangling from his belt. Yet he was still too far to risk trying, and the guards would be changing soon enough. But I had made much progress that day, so I let the opportunity slip by. Shortly thereafter, I ended our chat, and Thomas finally realized that the guard change would happen soon and resumed his post. I laid down, humming a song of my people. Thomas asked me what it was. I told him the song was one sung by the Iraens during the harvest festival. Despite the merry tune though, it was a song of war, sung upon the deaths of your foes, a song for victory. I thought about the night that I would usher Thomas close enough to my cell, so that I might whisper my last request to him. Then when he was all too familiar and trusting, I would wrap my hands around his neck through the bars, and he would know that I had won, and that I was taking everything from him. Then, when the fear in his eyes gives way to despair, as he realizes that I'm crushing his every hope and dream along with his throat, I probably won't be able to help but smile. With these thoughts in my mind, and the song of my people lulling me, I fell asleep, the smile already on my face. Notable Quote/Dane's Style:
"I am Dane Grahn, son of Bjorn, son of Thorvaldr, son of Berthold, son of Ragna! Send forth your best warrior, and as he dies, know that your struggle against the Iraens is futile!" |
