About Kalt ÌssonHuman (Ulfen) ) horizon walker 6/ranger (guide) 11
Kalt’s tale:
“You ask how I came to be here, a son of the Icemark, here in the soft lands of the south? Well, I’m not much of a tale-spinner, but the wine here’s cheap, I’ve enjoyed talking with you so far, and the rain pounding down outside makes it damn unlikely I’ll have a paying customer looking to travel tonight, so you’re in luck.” “As you’ll have guessed from looking at me, there are some who say I’m touched by the fey – though I don’t believe it. Fey folk have magic, and fear the touch of iron, and neither is true of me, and I can grow a beard when I choose. Though I can’t claim to not be a bit different from most folk. Cold doesn’t touch me, never has – and that’s how I came to leave the cold lands of the north.” “My mother – Gunhild was her name - was older, past the age where she could expect to have a child, and full of sadness for the lack of a little one to love, but she was a beauty for the skalds to sing of. My father was younger by some years, mad with love for her and filled with rage – I think he wanted only to make her happy, and he blamed their childlessness on himself. That is what I was told, at any rate, by my uncle Kjartan, my sister’s elder brother, for that was all before I was born. And about that, I know nothing, for I am a foundling.” “My mother used to tell me the story of how she found me. How she was out walking one day, having told my father she was going to look for spring herbs, though winter had not yet begun to relinquish its grip and no herbs were to be found on the snow on that bitter, icy day. I think she just wanted to be alone with her sadness, though she never said as much to me. In any case, she discovered my tiny body, even paler than you see me now, on a patch of ice in the shade of a great soldier pine. A woman who wanted nothing in the world more than her own child, she could not fathom how anyone could leave a babe out to die on the ice. She picked me up and to her amazement, pale and cold as I was, I cried out. And so did she, in joy and amazement, that she held a child, and at the thought that the child could be her own.” “She wrapped me in her shawl and carried me quickly home, and her joy must have filled my father’s heart with gladness, to see her smile and laugh so at the change in her fortune. I guess they were happy for some years, though my mother much more so than my father. He had wanted a son of his own line, and one not so scrawny and…well, fey. Children left by the fey folk are not uncommon near Elfmeet, in the west of Icemark, not so very far from my home, and he came to believe more and more strongly that I was one of them. Though I’ll say again, I may look it, but I don’t believe I’ve got a drop of fey blood in me. But that’s not the tale we’re telling here, is it? My mother was happy, and loved me dearly. My father took good enough care of me when I was just a boy, though there was little love between us. As I grew, that little love became less. He felt I had taken his place in my mother’s affections, and resented me, and as I grew older, we fought. With words, I should say, at least at first. We would argue and shout and he would threaten, but before he could lay a hand on me, I would vanish into the wild, into the cold.” “As I said, the cold doesn’t really touch me, and I took to disappearing into the woods and mountains – just for a few hours at first when I was very young, even walking out the door barefoot, in need of the peace and well-being I could find in the cold woods, where few others ventured and I could be alone. I hunted as a boy with my uncle, and he had seen I had some gifts in that regard, and that I would stick to a task until I saw it through, and he came to regard me kindly, perhaps even love me. He taught me what he knew of woodcraft and survival, and I built upon that.” “As I grew, I travelled further and longer, and came to see I was not alone in the cold. The beasts of the frozen plains and the Iceworm Hills came to be my companions and my fascination. I would track and study them, moving through the hills without a sound, learning their ways and weaknesses, their secrets and strengths. Some I learned to avoid, some I failed to avoid and had no choice but to fight them to survive – though my study of them helped me in those fights, no doubt. Other creatures I was able to come to an understanding with, more so than with many people, and the cold wilds truly became my home.” “My mother ever worried about my rangings, and her concern, and my lack of it, were the death of her. In my 15th winter, after a bitter argument with my father, I snatched up my pack and my weapons and set out on a long trek. I was gone for nearly two weeks, longer than ever before, when my mother took it upon herself to look for me. She was ill-prepared for such an outing, and told no one, leaving the house crazed with worry about me. She got lost, or gave up, or something, and was gone overnight, and found by my father after some days, frozen to death – and of all this I knew nothing. When I returned home, my father attacked me – and this time not with words. He said I was no son of his, and called me a son of the ice, for I had been born to the ice, and now had made my mother ice as well.” “Forgive me, I need a moment. I have never told this entire tale to anyone, and it was not so very long ago.” “Where was I? Ah yes, a son of the ice. That is now my name, Ísson, as I‘ve no wish to carry my father‘s name, and it reminds me of what my carelessness and selfishness did to my mother.“ “So, my father and I fought, both fueled by sorrow and rage, and to my surprise, I bested him. I had been hardened by my ranging and my instinct for studying my prey had taught me much about my father, though I never thought to use it. As I say, I bested him, and would have killed him had not my Uncle Kjartan come running into the house and stayed my hand. He told me that my mother had loved us both, son and father, and would not wish us to harm each other. I saw he was right and, for my mother‘s sake, I stepped away from my father, who promptly snatched up a wood-axe and tried to kill me. My uncle held him off while I made my escape, for I knew my father would fight me to the end, and there is only one way for a fight to end when one man is unwilling to kill the other.“ “I left my home that day, some four winters ago, to place as much distance as I could between myself and my father, who I fear still seeks some strange vengeance on me. I had heard tales of the Ulfen Guard, who serve the Grand Prince of Taldor, and thought I might join them. On that feeble notion, I made my long way south and east, learning the ways and dangers of new lands and beasts. “ “Happily, I learned that at the end of an Ulfen Guardsman’s service, he is allowed to take as much treasure as he can carry from the royal treasury. Unfortunately, I also learned this means they’re not inclined to take on many stray Ulfens who come to collect on such a prize. I’ve gotten to know a few of the Guards, but they have not yet invited me to join their ranks. So now I use my skills as a woodsman to guide travelers and hunters, and scrape together a living in these warm lands. And, here where there are so many more people than in the frozen north, I study my fellow man as I once only studied the creatures of the wild, noting their strengths and weaknesses, the good and ill of their ways. It is a fascinating study. And when that study turns my mood too dark, I set out and find the coldest place I can, as much as that is possible in this part of the world, away from people, to seek quiet and peace.“ Appearance and Personality:
Kalt Ísson - “Ice-son“ in his native Ulfen – is, in several senses, a creature of the frozen wilds. Found on the ice by his mother, somehow still alive after spending a night out in biting cold, his appearance marked him out as different, even when he tried to fit in. Now a grown man, he is tall like most of his Ulfen brethren, though where they tend to be broad and bulky, Kalt is lean and sinewy. He has extremely pale skin, hair so blond it is almost white, and eyes of a crystalline ice blue, all of which combine to make him seem a walking vision of winter’s chill. This effect is enhanced by his attire – a shirt of chain links, the steel of which is a silver color so light it looks more like shade-dappled snow than metal, and surcoat, leggings, and boots of a dull white leather. Over this he wears a long cloak, pale white on one side and darkest black on the other. The hilt of a long blade protrudes over his left shoulder, and a pale ash bow can be seen over his right.
The silvery-white chain shirt Kalt wears was a gift from his Uncle Kjartan, before Kalt fled home to escape his father’s wrath. Kjartan gave it to Kalt to protect him should his father come seeking him, which seemed all too likely, given the killing rage Kalt’s father was in when Kalt fled home. Kjartan had worn it in his own ranging days as a young man, but having grown old and stout, he felt no one deserved it more – nor was likely to need it more in his life – than his frosty nephew, as he set out into the world. Kalt has never connected easily with his fellow man. He is kind enough, and interested in the people around him, but he is a poor communicator of this interest, often seeming cold and distant by virtue of his appearance and awkwardness. At times, this bothers him, and he struggles against it to make friends. At other times, when he seeks the solace of wild places, or the solitude of a frosty winter night, he feels that he needs no one else. He is generally able to maintain his good cheer well enough by keeping a balance between these two moods, though it is a lonely life. His solo travels have put him in many hard situations where he has had only himself to rely on, and he has come to be a swift decision-maker, and a daring one. He doesn‘t hesitate in the face of danger. In fact, he has been known to take the riskier route, just for the adventure in it. Useful pastes:
Normal [dice=+2 Greatsword attack]1d20+26[/dice] [dice=+2 Greatsword damage]2d6+12[/dice] [dice=+2 Greatsword attack, iterative]1d20+21[/dice]
[dice=+2 Greatsword attack, iterative]1d20+16[/dice]
[dice=+2 Greatsword attack, iterative]1d20+11[/dice]
Power Attack
[dice=+2 Greatsword, Power Attack, iterative]1d20+21-5[/dice]
[dice=+2 Greatsword, Power Attack, iterative]1d20+16-5[/dice]
[dice=+2 Greatsword, Power Attack, iterative]1d20+11-5[/dice]
Bow, Single Attack
Bow, Full Attack
[dice=MW Composite Longbow attack, iterative]1d20+16[/dice]
[dice=MW Composite Longbow attack, iterative]1d20+11[/dice]
[dice=MW Composite Longbow attack, iterative]1d20+6[/dice]
Bow, Full Attack, Rapid Shot
[dice=MW Composite Longbow attack]1d20+19[/dice]
[dice=MW Composite Longbow attack, iterative]1d20+14[/dice]
[dice=MW Composite Longbow attack, iterative]1d20+9[/dice]
[dice=MW Composite Longbow attack, iterative]1d20+4[/dice]
|
