Keidivh
Warrior with the Silver Eyes
[SIZE=12pt]Name: Kristoff [/SIZE]Gottzmann, “Ulric’s Hammer”
[SIZE=12pt]Race: Human (Teutogen)[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]Gender: Male[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]Age: 31[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]Class: Warrior Priest of Ulric[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]Personality: Boisterous, commanding, bull headed and short fused are but a few words that describe Ulric’s Hammer. The type of man his soldiers can drink a pint of ale with, when he isn’t whipping them into shape on the field. He is generally a friendly man who cares deeply for the men who follow him and the few he considers friend. His ultimate loyalty lies of course in the Empire, but also his beloved patron Ulric. He despises anything touched by the foul taint of Chaos, his people having suffered all their life from Chaos and Beastmen.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]Biography: Kristoff’s origin lies in one of the many hamlets dotted throughout the Drakwald, a community of hardy and simple folk who must fight for every scrap of sustenance they can, and cling to life with a desperate ferocity that Ulric expects from his people. In this reclusive village of Eldstad Kristoff grew up with his parents. His father Christopher was an experienced soldier and sergeant, who had fought in many battles throughout the North against Chaos raiders and Beastmen alike, while his mother Adalia was a respected hunter. When his father was home Kristoff would spend hours every day practicing with his father who taught him what it was to be a warrior and leader. Although instead of learning the halberd or sword, Kristoff took to using the hammer, much ot his fathers chagrin. Yet Kristoff was as stubborn as his old man, if not more so, and it was the only weapon he would wield, although he knew how to use any weapon to kill. When not practicing in arms, Kristoff was doing something no one else in the village did. Sharpen his mind and nurture his spirit. He would ceaselessly study the Liber Lupus and Teutonengeschichte, holy texts of the Ulrican Cult, and took each of his teachings to heart. Honor, strength, ruthlessness, self-reliance. These were the things Ulric expected of his followers. Cowardice was the ultimate sin to his furious god, and Kristoff ensured he had none of it, and didn’t tolerate it.[/SIZE]
Perhaps the greatest day of his life was when he was blessed with the sight of a true priest of Ulric, Arick and five Knights of the White Wolf. Adorned in simple wolf furs, and armed only with his Warhammer and holy texts Arick was one of the most ferocious and powerful men he had ever seen in his life, putting even the mighty knights of Ulric to shame. He didn’t need any armor to shield himself. He relied only on his skill and the favor of Ulric to survive. That’s who he needed to become, who he was meant to be. The next part of his tale is one Kristoff generally leaves out, as he says it is a tribulation every man of the Empire deals with at some point. Namely the destruction of his village. While all wilds of the Empire were dangerous, the Drakwald was more treacherous than any other, seeming to brim with danger and Beastmen. It was the fate of every isolated village to be attacked by them, and his was no different. In the depth of night, when the darkness of the Drakwald seemed to reach otherworldly levels they came. Dozens of vicious Gors and Ungors came streaming into the village, and what followed was slaughter. Many were torn apart in their beds, not even able to defend themselves, children dragged into the deep dark of the woods, where unspeakable fates awaited them. Only in the village center was a stand made, where the few who escaped the initial slaughter fought tooth and nail for survival, only able to hold due to the ferocity of the White Wolves and their Warrior Priest. Each by himself slew a score of the vile creatures, but Arick proved himself to be more fierce than either the knights or beasts, slaying whatever dared approach his mighty hammer. Kristoff wasn’t one to shrink away from a fight, even at such the young age of 13. Grabbing his small hammer he joined the fight, jumping on top of an ungor who was sneaking up on Arick and bludgeoning the beast to death. The battle finally ended when the mighty Bestigor leading the raid was skilled, its skull split in half by his great hammer. By morning the village was almost entirely razed, with other 2/3s of the people dead, among them his parents who had fought with great fury before being slain by the Bestigor. He hadn’t lost all however, as Arick had taken note of his bravery and zeal, killing one of the Beastmen before even becoming a true man. He offered the boy a choice. To devote his life to the warrior god of wolves and winter, or wallor in the ashes of the dead. The choice was simple.
Kristoff journeyed to the grand city of Middenheim, said to be second only to Altdorf in might and majesty. Truly young Kristoff had never witnessed such a glorious sight, the mighty slopes and walls overwhelming his senses as he gazed upon them. The greatest sight of all however was the temple of Ulric, a mighty fortress in the city that stood over all, and within it was the White Flame itself. This was Kristoff’s home, no matter where he roamed in the Empire, the White Flames was where his heart was.
Every day Kristoff spent his time amongst the knights and priests, becoming well versed in both weapons and doctrine. Finally at the age of sixteen he was sent into the crucible of battle alongside the Swords of Ulric, with whom he slaughtered many Beastmen, removing their pestilence from the great forests. Eventually he was given his final test. To go by himself into the Drakwald, and kill a dire wolf with his bare hands. For weeks he was gone, not a soul seeing the young zealot. Then, after nearly a month a ragged man appeared in the fortress temple, wearing the pelt of a giant dire wolf around his shoulders, and a young dire wolf pup at his side. Kristoff had succeeded in his trial, and from that moment onward was considered a true Warrior Priest of Ulric.
As is suspected of a true warrior priest, Kristoff spent little time in the city of Middenheim, devoting much of his time to tracking any who threaten the North, and is commonly accompanied by knights of the White Wolf and a contingent of Middenheim soldiers. He and his right hand, Grigor the Fist of the Fauchslag, a commander of the White Wolves traveled far and wide, from the frozen shores of Nordland to the dreaded moors of Ostermark. Perhaps one of his most notable campaigns was in his own homeland, where the Beatlord Galgoz Gnarlfang gathered a terrifying army of Gors, Ungors and Bestigors to ravage Middenland, and their first target was the mercantile town of Delberz. With the Counts army away at war, it fell to the Cult of Ulric to defend their homeland, and Kristoff was chosen to lead the campaign. Greatly outnumbered, Kristoff knew that meeting his enemies in the open battlefield was foolish. Instead he led his army into the Howling Hills, where the great horde had to travel through to reach their target. A great wall of halberdiers was placed in the main valley where the Beastmen funneled into the valley by the thousands. The thunder of handguns cut down many of the abominations, but they smashed into the wall of Empire men nonetheless. Yet the halberdiers held, as they were the sons of Ulric, and refused to break. Refused to lose. When the battle was at its fever pitch a great horn was blown, and from over the great hills came near fifty knights of the White Wolf, and hundreds of the Swords of Ulric, with a bellowing roar they charged the Beastmen flank, with Kristoff at the lead, his hammer smashing any that got in his way. Eventually his force cut into the very heart of the horde, where he and his knights engaged the Beast Lord and his Bestigor guard. It was a bloody battle, with knights and Bestigors falling on each side. Gnarlfang and Kristoff drowned each other in blows, but the tide turned against him, and the great beast prepared to slay the valiant warrior priest. But at the last moment his wolf, only recently grown from being a pup lunged onto the beasts back, shredding it and throwing it off balance. Seeing his opportunity, Kristoff seized upon his chance, calling upon the favor of his god which flowed through his muscles, his hammer glowing a icy blue. With all his strength he brought his hammer down upon the beasts skull, smashing it into a pile of gore. With that strike the horde broke, and the Beastmen scattered into the wilds once more.
Since then Ulric’s Hammer has been on many campaigns, but prepares himself as their most deadly may yet be before them. The Emperor has called upon all troops to join him at Blackfire Pass. Will he answer the call, or defend the abandoned North from the enemies arraying against it?
Appearance:
[SIZE=12pt]Abilities/Strengths: Kristoff is a brutishly strong man, and powerful leader. But these are not his only strengths. He can call upon the blessings of his patron deity, strengthening himself and encouraging those around him to greater feats of valor and honor. Through his prowess and faith Kristoff finds his strength. [/SIZE]Snow Squall extends Ulrics icy protection amongst his favored, as a small blizzard envelopes them and freezes their enemies. Hammerschlag imbues his hammer with the strength of the wolf god, crushing anything that might stand before it. Ulric’s Howl is an unearthly roar emitted from the priest which strikes fear into the hearts of his enemy and valor into the hearts of those who follow him. And finally there is the Call of Ulric. A Warrior Priest of Ulric’s greatest tool, it turns them into a great and savage wolf of Ulric, who can rend apart enemies as if they were but sleep who wandered into the slaughter.
Weaknesses: Kristoff is well known to have a short fuse, which can be set of quite easily if one is not careful. He is also proud and stubborn, and will rarely back down to any unless they are deserving of his respect. Another of his troubles is his relations with the followers of Sigmar. While he can tolerate them, he oft talks down to them, as Ulric is the true god of the Empire. Even Sigmar himself was Ulrican. They need to be reminded of that.
Weapons:
[SIZE=12pt]Warhammer[/SIZE]
Ritual Dagger:
[SIZE=12pt]Race: Human (Teutogen)[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]Gender: Male[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]Age: 31[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]Class: Warrior Priest of Ulric[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]Personality: Boisterous, commanding, bull headed and short fused are but a few words that describe Ulric’s Hammer. The type of man his soldiers can drink a pint of ale with, when he isn’t whipping them into shape on the field. He is generally a friendly man who cares deeply for the men who follow him and the few he considers friend. His ultimate loyalty lies of course in the Empire, but also his beloved patron Ulric. He despises anything touched by the foul taint of Chaos, his people having suffered all their life from Chaos and Beastmen.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=12pt]Biography: Kristoff’s origin lies in one of the many hamlets dotted throughout the Drakwald, a community of hardy and simple folk who must fight for every scrap of sustenance they can, and cling to life with a desperate ferocity that Ulric expects from his people. In this reclusive village of Eldstad Kristoff grew up with his parents. His father Christopher was an experienced soldier and sergeant, who had fought in many battles throughout the North against Chaos raiders and Beastmen alike, while his mother Adalia was a respected hunter. When his father was home Kristoff would spend hours every day practicing with his father who taught him what it was to be a warrior and leader. Although instead of learning the halberd or sword, Kristoff took to using the hammer, much ot his fathers chagrin. Yet Kristoff was as stubborn as his old man, if not more so, and it was the only weapon he would wield, although he knew how to use any weapon to kill. When not practicing in arms, Kristoff was doing something no one else in the village did. Sharpen his mind and nurture his spirit. He would ceaselessly study the Liber Lupus and Teutonengeschichte, holy texts of the Ulrican Cult, and took each of his teachings to heart. Honor, strength, ruthlessness, self-reliance. These were the things Ulric expected of his followers. Cowardice was the ultimate sin to his furious god, and Kristoff ensured he had none of it, and didn’t tolerate it.[/SIZE]
Perhaps the greatest day of his life was when he was blessed with the sight of a true priest of Ulric, Arick and five Knights of the White Wolf. Adorned in simple wolf furs, and armed only with his Warhammer and holy texts Arick was one of the most ferocious and powerful men he had ever seen in his life, putting even the mighty knights of Ulric to shame. He didn’t need any armor to shield himself. He relied only on his skill and the favor of Ulric to survive. That’s who he needed to become, who he was meant to be. The next part of his tale is one Kristoff generally leaves out, as he says it is a tribulation every man of the Empire deals with at some point. Namely the destruction of his village. While all wilds of the Empire were dangerous, the Drakwald was more treacherous than any other, seeming to brim with danger and Beastmen. It was the fate of every isolated village to be attacked by them, and his was no different. In the depth of night, when the darkness of the Drakwald seemed to reach otherworldly levels they came. Dozens of vicious Gors and Ungors came streaming into the village, and what followed was slaughter. Many were torn apart in their beds, not even able to defend themselves, children dragged into the deep dark of the woods, where unspeakable fates awaited them. Only in the village center was a stand made, where the few who escaped the initial slaughter fought tooth and nail for survival, only able to hold due to the ferocity of the White Wolves and their Warrior Priest. Each by himself slew a score of the vile creatures, but Arick proved himself to be more fierce than either the knights or beasts, slaying whatever dared approach his mighty hammer. Kristoff wasn’t one to shrink away from a fight, even at such the young age of 13. Grabbing his small hammer he joined the fight, jumping on top of an ungor who was sneaking up on Arick and bludgeoning the beast to death. The battle finally ended when the mighty Bestigor leading the raid was skilled, its skull split in half by his great hammer. By morning the village was almost entirely razed, with other 2/3s of the people dead, among them his parents who had fought with great fury before being slain by the Bestigor. He hadn’t lost all however, as Arick had taken note of his bravery and zeal, killing one of the Beastmen before even becoming a true man. He offered the boy a choice. To devote his life to the warrior god of wolves and winter, or wallor in the ashes of the dead. The choice was simple.
Kristoff journeyed to the grand city of Middenheim, said to be second only to Altdorf in might and majesty. Truly young Kristoff had never witnessed such a glorious sight, the mighty slopes and walls overwhelming his senses as he gazed upon them. The greatest sight of all however was the temple of Ulric, a mighty fortress in the city that stood over all, and within it was the White Flame itself. This was Kristoff’s home, no matter where he roamed in the Empire, the White Flames was where his heart was.
Every day Kristoff spent his time amongst the knights and priests, becoming well versed in both weapons and doctrine. Finally at the age of sixteen he was sent into the crucible of battle alongside the Swords of Ulric, with whom he slaughtered many Beastmen, removing their pestilence from the great forests. Eventually he was given his final test. To go by himself into the Drakwald, and kill a dire wolf with his bare hands. For weeks he was gone, not a soul seeing the young zealot. Then, after nearly a month a ragged man appeared in the fortress temple, wearing the pelt of a giant dire wolf around his shoulders, and a young dire wolf pup at his side. Kristoff had succeeded in his trial, and from that moment onward was considered a true Warrior Priest of Ulric.
As is suspected of a true warrior priest, Kristoff spent little time in the city of Middenheim, devoting much of his time to tracking any who threaten the North, and is commonly accompanied by knights of the White Wolf and a contingent of Middenheim soldiers. He and his right hand, Grigor the Fist of the Fauchslag, a commander of the White Wolves traveled far and wide, from the frozen shores of Nordland to the dreaded moors of Ostermark. Perhaps one of his most notable campaigns was in his own homeland, where the Beatlord Galgoz Gnarlfang gathered a terrifying army of Gors, Ungors and Bestigors to ravage Middenland, and their first target was the mercantile town of Delberz. With the Counts army away at war, it fell to the Cult of Ulric to defend their homeland, and Kristoff was chosen to lead the campaign. Greatly outnumbered, Kristoff knew that meeting his enemies in the open battlefield was foolish. Instead he led his army into the Howling Hills, where the great horde had to travel through to reach their target. A great wall of halberdiers was placed in the main valley where the Beastmen funneled into the valley by the thousands. The thunder of handguns cut down many of the abominations, but they smashed into the wall of Empire men nonetheless. Yet the halberdiers held, as they were the sons of Ulric, and refused to break. Refused to lose. When the battle was at its fever pitch a great horn was blown, and from over the great hills came near fifty knights of the White Wolf, and hundreds of the Swords of Ulric, with a bellowing roar they charged the Beastmen flank, with Kristoff at the lead, his hammer smashing any that got in his way. Eventually his force cut into the very heart of the horde, where he and his knights engaged the Beast Lord and his Bestigor guard. It was a bloody battle, with knights and Bestigors falling on each side. Gnarlfang and Kristoff drowned each other in blows, but the tide turned against him, and the great beast prepared to slay the valiant warrior priest. But at the last moment his wolf, only recently grown from being a pup lunged onto the beasts back, shredding it and throwing it off balance. Seeing his opportunity, Kristoff seized upon his chance, calling upon the favor of his god which flowed through his muscles, his hammer glowing a icy blue. With all his strength he brought his hammer down upon the beasts skull, smashing it into a pile of gore. With that strike the horde broke, and the Beastmen scattered into the wilds once more.
Since then Ulric’s Hammer has been on many campaigns, but prepares himself as their most deadly may yet be before them. The Emperor has called upon all troops to join him at Blackfire Pass. Will he answer the call, or defend the abandoned North from the enemies arraying against it?
Appearance:
[SIZE=12pt]Abilities/Strengths: Kristoff is a brutishly strong man, and powerful leader. But these are not his only strengths. He can call upon the blessings of his patron deity, strengthening himself and encouraging those around him to greater feats of valor and honor. Through his prowess and faith Kristoff finds his strength. [/SIZE]Snow Squall extends Ulrics icy protection amongst his favored, as a small blizzard envelopes them and freezes their enemies. Hammerschlag imbues his hammer with the strength of the wolf god, crushing anything that might stand before it. Ulric’s Howl is an unearthly roar emitted from the priest which strikes fear into the hearts of his enemy and valor into the hearts of those who follow him. And finally there is the Call of Ulric. A Warrior Priest of Ulric’s greatest tool, it turns them into a great and savage wolf of Ulric, who can rend apart enemies as if they were but sleep who wandered into the slaughter.
Weaknesses: Kristoff is well known to have a short fuse, which can be set of quite easily if one is not careful. He is also proud and stubborn, and will rarely back down to any unless they are deserving of his respect. Another of his troubles is his relations with the followers of Sigmar. While he can tolerate them, he oft talks down to them, as Ulric is the true god of the Empire. Even Sigmar himself was Ulrican. They need to be reminded of that.
Weapons:
[SIZE=12pt]Warhammer[/SIZE]
Ritual Dagger:
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if it's ok I might actually replace it with something simpler, might be a cool prayer to learn a bit later