| Race |
HP 90/90 (+30 rage), Ini +2, DR 5/-, AC 27 (+1 rage, -3 RA) Touch 14 (+5 rage), Flat-footed 25, Fort +10 (+7S), Ref +7 (+7S), Will +5 (+7S+ 2 rage) |
About Nawarld Gondieran
Nawarld Gondieran
male Invulnerable Rager Barbarian, Level 10, Init +2, HP 90/90 (+30 rage), DR 5/-, Speed 40
AC 27 (+1 rage, -3 RA) Touch 14 (+5 rage), Flat-footed 25, Fort +10 (+7S), Ref +7 (+7S), Will +5 (+7S +2 rage), Base Attack Bonus 10
Furious +1 Greatsword (8350 gold) 17/12(+4 raging, +3 RA, -3 PA) (2d6+12(+5 rage, + 9PA, +3 WH), 19-20/x2)
MW Composite +6 Longbow (1000g) (40 arrows) 13/8 (1d8+6 (+3 WH), 20/x3)
MW Armor spikes (50g) 16/11 (1d6+6(+2 rage, +6 PA, +3 WH), x2)
Celestial Plate(13200) (+12 Armor, +2 Dex, +1 Natural, +1 Deflect, +1 Misc)
Abilities Str 22, Dex 14, Con 15, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 8
Condition None
"I am but a simple man, a proud warrior knowing little about magic or the gods. But I believe that doesn't matter. Where I don't understand the occult ways, they have lost they eye for simplicity and purity. They don't understand me either and that frightens those who think they know all."
As the son of farmers, Nawarld had a hard but happy childhood. He was always strong and quite suited for the hard work, yet it was clear from the beginning that only the oldest of his 4 brothers could actually inherit the farm and thus, once coming of age, he joined the local militia. Here, too, his brute strength, hardy constitution and recklessly single minded fighting-style helped him make a name for himself.
Before long he was caught the eye of the kings recruiter, one of the few people regularly coming to their secluded mountain region, always looking for strong and skilled men to enlist with promises of good pay, glory or a better, more sophisticated lifestyle in the distant capital or even more distant foreign countries.
Reluctant in the beginning, Nawarld was actually quite intrigued to see more of the world and joint.
Over the next years he traveled most of the country with different units, slowly advancing ranks, yet always held back by what his commanding officers called "reckless, unorganized and chaotic". Overall he liked his life, the fights, the spoils, even long, uneventful marches.
But what he didn't like were all the wizards and so called clerics, calling eldritch, incomprehensible powers. Where he came from those were only the stuff of dark fairytales or witches in the woods. The most his village priest could do was pray for faster healing of minor wounds or blessing people, never would Nawarld have dared to dream to see conjured balls of fire burning men to crisp or priests stopping people dead in their step with just a short prayer. And now that it was all around him, it scarred him. Sure, he would never admit that much and had to generally accept its presence, but in battle, when instincts took over? He just couldn't do it, every last fiber of his being would fight against it, fight against the unknown, unimaginable.
At first it almost got him thrown out when he kept shaking off everything their magic support threw in to help but, as his seniors noticed that he could and would do the same with enemy fire, they rather decided to re-purpose him instead. Sending him in almost suicidal fashion straight towards enemy arcanists proved rather successful and with time the casters started to fear him almost as much as he feared them.
Then a war broke out as the world had never seen before, armies were simply crushed utterly, cities burned to cinder in a matter of minutes and whole kingdoms erased in hours. And worst of all, magic more powerful and terrible than anything before was brought to bear. Nawarld was scarred shitless, yet he also found strength in conviction. Who would stop them if everyone cowered out? Where would they stop? Magic this terrible could not be allowed to roam free, no one who burned whole countries could be allowed to life. This was not the time for fear, this was the time to fight.
