Mark Gaeta's page

About Mark Gaeta

Wren Lefton was raised by his human father, Barret, in the deep woods near a township that no longer has a name.
They made their home well away from the very superstitious citizens, more so as his father was well versed
in sorcerous lore that the skittish villagers found unnatural. Despite the tense feelings of mistrust,
the two groups coexisted; the Lefton's would bring fresh meat and skins to trade for supplies from the
one merchant in town.
As he grew older, it was not unusual for Wren to be sent on errands that would have him away from home for days or even weeks at a time. During one such period, a horrible disaster struck the township in the form of a rapid outbreak of Zombie Rot. With little real defence of their own, the superstitious villagers were quick to snatch
at any solution, no matter how insane. In their paniced mentatlity, they blamed Wren's father and his sorcerous "black magics" for the outbreak and decided there was only one way to save themselves. In a parade of wheat scythes and hay forks, they stormed the elder Lefton's home and strung him up by the rafters of his own home.
As a more learned individual might expect, the villager's solution aided them little, and the Zombie Rot disease
overwhelmed every last villager. A mere weak later, Wren returned from his errange only to find his father's
zombified corpse trying to free itself from its noose, and a village full of meandering zombified villagers.
After his intiially horror, and knowing his bow would be next to useless against such creatures, he took up his
father's greatsword and with hardened heart and blank features, he cut every single last shambling corpse to pieces.
With only tainted memories to hold him there, Wren collected supplies and started walking in a random direction.
With a number of years (and countless pints) behind him, Wren has learned to mostly put the experience
behind him. His biting sarcastic sense of humor is not helped by a tendency to loose himself in drink and baudry
company in seedy taverns he passes through. However, despite his proclivity towards mischief and fraternization,
he will always bare an intense burning hatred for all forms of the undead.