HP 11 (1d10+1)
AC 15; Touch 12; Flat-Footed 13; Armor +3, Dex +2
Handle Animal +7
Knowledge (Nature) +5
Sense Motive +1
Composite Longbow (+1 Str) +3 (1d8+1/20/x3)
Heavy Mace +3 (1d8+2/20/x2)
Long-Spear +3 (1d8+3/20/x3)
Dagger +3 (1d4+2/19-20/x2)
(Gordom) Studded Leather
Winter Blanket (2)
Flint and Steel
Traits, Class Abilities, Feats:
Bastard (-1 with Nobles, +1 Will)
Pioneer (Start with a horse, +1 to Handle Animal)
I grew up in a small town just outside the forest to the east of Restov. My father was a trapper/trader who lived simply. I never knew my mother; I was told she died giving birth to me. I grew up learning the profession of my father. He taught me how to hunt, to live off the land, and to fend off, or even capture, the occasional bandits who were only becoming more common in our woods. By far the best thing my father ever taught me, however, was self reliance.
Around my seventeenth winter, my father began to fall ill. The village was too small to have a healer of the gods and what little I knew how to do with herbs and antidotes barely slowed the disease. Fearing that he might not survive, my father told me that I needed to know the truth. He told me that he never was my father, nor did he ever know my mother. He had found me, abandoned as an infant on one of his travels. There was nothing to hint to the cause of my circumstances except for a House Rogarvia signet ring on a chain around my kneck.
It was not unheard of for some of the minor nobles of the Houses to have affairs, nor was it uncommon to hear tales of offspring quietly shuffled off to some far away orphanage. Assuming this to be cause of my abandonment and always desiring a child of his own, my father had taken me in. However, now that he felt that his time with me was coming to an end, he told me that I should try and discover my true lineage. As house Rogarvia had mysteriously vanished in the time since, he advised me to start in Restov. My father only lived another week after telling this story.
It was a mistake to think that the court at Restov would believe me when I told them who I was. At first they simply laughed at me and told me I was wasting their time. When I showed them my ring as evidence and when its authenticity had been confirmed, they took the ring from me and accused me of stealing it. I was told that if I continued to spread rumors about the noble House Rogarvia I would be thrown imprisoned.
With my father dead and the only link I have to where I came from taken from me, I didn’t know what to do. The only man who believed me was a wizened old dwarf whose name I can't even remember. He offered me a charter to clear out an area known as the Greenebelt and with no other ideas, I decided to go along with it. I'll give this charter a try until I can figure out how to get my ring back and find out more about my birth father.
Gordom is on the tall side of average at just under 6 feet in height. He is well muscled, yet has the lean look of one accustomed to going hungry when game was scarce. He has straight brown hair that is braided in random locations, but otherwise falls free to just below the shoulder. He wears leather armour over handmade cloth from deerskin and both layers show the dirt and wear of age and use. His skin is lightly tanned and the drab colour of his complexion and garb cause him to be forgotten quickly in a crowd. However, those who take the time to notice will see eyes of a deeper green than any evergreen with a concentric ring of gold, his only distinguishing feature.
Gordom is a man of contradictions. He is quiet and prefers to keep to himself, but this is born of a yearning desire to feel accepted. He scoffs at what he considers the presumptuous entitlement of the upper classes, yet the story of his origin leaves him desperate to know if he is secretly one of them. He is free spirited and prefers to live away from the governance of any state, yet recognizes the importance of an ordered civilization. Gordom does not consider himself a champion of anyone's cause, but cannot abide the sight of injustice or oppression. His conflicting views on most things have cast his morality into permanent shades of grey. This can cause him to seem inconsistent at times, but he always tries to do the right thing.
Scorned during what seemed his only chance at finding a true family, Gordom currently despises those of high station, especially those native to Restov. Even as he adventures to distance himself from them, however, he also hopes to prove himself worthy of the name they said he would never bear.
Having only ever been close to his father, Gordom can be a little difficult to get along with. His father's emphasis on being able to live off the land caused the young boy to see relying on others as a weakness. He will always help those who need it and doesn't object to another hand in a fight, but a man should never have to accept charity of any kind. Even more difficult for some to understand is his tendency to prefer animals over people.