Forest Hunt‎‎‎er‎‎‎'s page

Forest Hunter is of average height and build for a Varisian human. Worry lines and a sharp widow’s peak belie his relatively young age. He sports a full, trimmed beard and mustache of reddish-brown hair. He has a sharp nose and small, round eyes. His clothing is bland and practical. Green and brown wool and leather, calfskin gloves and boots, and a grey, hooded cloak- all designed to help one blend into the forests that dominate the Varisian landscape. A leather and wood sheath containing a fine scimitar hangs from his belt.

Forest is bold and impatient; he prefers action over waiting and considering. Qualities that set him apart from his fellow rangers. He would rather face a problem head on, be it an angry orc or an angry seamstress, than to sneak around and wait for the perfect time to strike. He is brave and values community, family, and freedom. Despite the constant pestering by his mother and sister, he has yet to find a ‘lovely young woman’ with which to settle down. He had been taught all his life that he would protect the people of the town one day, and he saw the local women as sisters. He is afraid of ogres.

Forest Hunter is a ranger from the small farming and fishing town of Ilsurian, roughly two-hundred and twenty-five miles as the crow flies east of Sandpoint. His father, Forest Sr., was a well renowned member of the local Ilsurain rangers, a mighty warrior and level-headed leader. He was killed when Forest was still young by ogres that attempted to leave the Hook Mountains for greener pastures with more readily available victims. The rangers pushed back the ogres, but not before suffering heavy losses. Forest was traveling with the rangers at the time and witnessed his father’s death, something that left him doubting himself for some time as well as with a lasting fear of ogres.

Forest’s mother, Alvara, is a bowyer and sits on the council of Ilsurian. His twin sister, Amelia, works with their mother as a bowyer. The pair have supplied many of the bows used to feed and defend the town. Amelia inherited a stronger shade of red hair from their mother, as well as their mother’s fiery personality that makes Forest’s brashness look downright tame in comparison. The two women have been constant guides for Forest throughout his life.

Like his father before him, Forest joined the Ilsurian rangers as soon as he was of age. While he took to the training well enough and showed significant natural talent, stalking through the woods and waiting for days on end to loose a single arrow then slink away into the underbrush was maddeningly slow to the impatient young man. So, he opted for a different style of combat. Full plate and a heavy shield. The rangers could not always eliminate threats quickly and quietly, the encounter with the ogres that killed his father being the strongest example of this within living memory, and Forest forged himself into the solution. He would charge into the group of orcs or goblins or whatever they may be, striking out at the monsters with scimitar and shield. His plate armor not only protected him from the primitive spears and axes often wielded by monstrous humanoids, but it also protected him from his fellow ranger’s arrows. They could continue to fire into the melee with no fear of hitting their compatriot. This unorthodox fighting style was effective at protecting the town, but Forest did not lust for combat and he had started yearning to wander further from the town. Not thousands of miles, and not forever. Far enough to stretch his legs.

The opportunity to wander a bit further recently presented itself. A letter delivered to Alvara Hunter from the town of Sandpoint detailed a debt owed to their fallen father from a man by the name of Daviren Hosk. Forest’s father had apparently helped the stranger put down a horde of goblins near Sandpoint many years ago, and he had some form of payment he wished to make good on. So, with little fanfare - and many complaints from Amelia who felt she had just as much right as anyone else to seek their late father’s reward – Forest took leave from his ranger duties and set out for the small city of Sandpoint on the western coast. The journey could have taken him less than two weeks, but Forest took his time, stopping often to talk to and help the people he met along his way. The relatively uneventful trip took him just under a month to complete.

The timing was fortunate however, as he arrived just before the famed Swallowtail Festival. Instead of going straight to meet Daviren Hosk, Forest was distracted by the festivities and the people. Sandpoint had almost twice as many people and a wider variety of races than Ilsurian, especially with the festival in town. Forest drank and ate foods he had never seen before and danced and played games into the night. Then the screaming started.

Goblins were attacking! This was an enemy Forest had faced many times, but he had never faced them in such a state of intoxication. Drunk or no, it was his duty to protect those that could not protect himself. He had not brough his armor or shield from home, but he always had his scimitar and bow. He herded civilians into a home and slew the goblins that tried to break in after them. Several other citizens of the town took up arms and stood with Forest, including a man who was remarkable good at slaying the goblins. Goblins were an easy opponent for one as experienced as Forest, though their short stature did make it difficult to hit them with a sword. Regardless, the innocent people he took into his charge survived the onslaught by the goblins, which either died, gave up, or fled. Forest set to fighting the fires started by the little green pyromaniacs for the rest of the night.

Perhaps an act of serendipity, but one of the men who stood with Forest was Daviren Hosk; the man he had traveled to meet. After marveling over the coincidence, Hosk revealed that he was a stablemaster in the town and had come across a fine warhorse he had no space for and, remembering the actions of Forest’s father decades before, he felt the horse would be suitable payment for the man risking his life to save strangers. If nothing else, he told Forest, the beast would sell for a small fortune. And a magnificent beast it was. Fifteen hands and near twelve-hundred pounds, it was a massive animal. Forest was not a horse expert, but the superior breeding was evident even to a lay man. The gray stallion held his head high and moved with certainty and confidence. Truth be told, it was a bit too much of a horse for Forest to handle. He had ridden before, but never a heavy warhorse. Forest decided to stay around Sandpoint to practice with the horse and help the poor people of the town pick up the pieces after the goblin attack.