Grey
Dialectical Hermeticist
System & Setting of Origin: Crucible: Dark Age
Campaign: The Fuzz' meatspace campaign.
Name: Wolkire
Epithets: Kokalle (Literally 'Skulltalker'), the Deadspeaker, Herald of the Forsaken Kingdom
Nationality: Clan of the Crow
Age: 34
Profession: Monsterslayer
Calling: Prophet of Wotan
History:
The Day of Sun's End is a solemn rite among the Bersarkar people, and none treat it with such solemnity as the Clan of the Crow. It is the last new moon of Autumn, when the faithful of the old ways make propitiation to Wotan, Judge of the Dead, to have mercy during the deep the Winter. In some places, the practice is outlawed by the Church. In others, a pig is bled, and eaten, and it is a feast day.
The Crow know life must pay for life.
No sacrifice was made the year of Wolkire's birth, however - his mother died in childbirth, and when he was born the spirit of his grandfather appeared at the fireside, and smiled. Wolkire was marked by Wotan's favour, a prophet of the death-god.
His father was a warrior of middling repute, and so Wolkire was raised instead by the Lamenter of the Clan, a longbeard wise in the lore of the Leaden Throne and the Halls Beyond Life. For a few years, it seemed the lad would come to nothing but a stout frame and thick skull, but when he was eight Wolkire began to speak for the dead. The ghosts calm to him begging a voice, begging aid, begging rest.
Wolkire will admit to few, now, how he cried. How they overwhelmed him.
He was trained to call upon the blessing he had been given, to act as Wotan would require, taught the lores of bone and blood. He was trained to be a warrior, too, for the Bersarkar do not expect faith to thrive in words alone. It was Wolkire's duty to lay the unquiet dead to rest, they told him. He must be strong of will and body, strike down the upir, the ghouls, the draugr and the spectres that haunt the cold hills of his homeland.
But his teachers were not solely the living.
The ghost of his grandfather has always been with Wolkire, watching over him. Teaching him those secrets the living could not know. Promising a great destiny - as Hrota had done in ages past, Wolkire was to seize the City and unite the Clans, cast down the pretender king who had driven the Bersarkar into the icy wilds to live among the fae and the monsters.
So Wolkire has come to the city.
Personality:
Wolkire is a large personality. He booms and boasts, he drinks and woos, he eats and fights with vigour. He loves a tense battle, and loves a good party still more. He has great respect for poets and storytellers, and has a fierce, simple charisma in his preaching.
And he does preach. His faith is seemingly unshakable - he is the vessel by which Wotan's will be done. He is a hero and a prophet, and you'd best not forget it.
He has been learning this subtlety thing of which his Cityborn companions speak, but finds it little to his liking.
Powers:
Wolkire is a Necromancer. Oh, he might believe utterly that his gifts are divine, but Wolkire's soul is infused by the Pattern of the Leaden Skull.
He can see the ghosts of the dead, tether, bind, and release them. He can cross into The World Without Sun. He can decay, age, and rot enemies or objects, but this is a little harder for him, and his power of raising the dead is weak. He can control and turn undead, however - usually to command them to stand where he can cut them down.
Appearance:
At 5'10, he's taller than most of his kin. Broad, muscular, covered in scars. His face is hard, broad-featured, and well-lined. His slate-gray eyes don't lack warmth. A white scar across his forehead makes frowns severe, and he broods often enough. Quicker to laugh, generally. Has a slight tan on his face where his helmet doesn't keep the sun off. Full beard, full hair, blonde shading to silver-gray.
Panoply:
A suit of plate and chain armour, handed down for generations. Engraved on the back with wings. On the pauldrons are patterns of crow-wings and skulls. Kept in excellent condition.
His weapon is a glaive called Draugsleep, an ancient weapon forged when the Clans were mighty with an art long lost. About six feet long, from end to end, two feet of it single-edged blade. The haft is mostly plain, a silver-grey material that seems to be some supremely light metal. Skeletal hands are moulded around the place where the blade begins, and the blade itself is engraved with prayers in a tongue long lost.
It can strike ghosts, and undead felled by it remain felled.
Allies:
Entourage:
More to come later. @Pooka was interested in this.
Campaign: The Fuzz' meatspace campaign.
Name: Wolkire
Epithets: Kokalle (Literally 'Skulltalker'), the Deadspeaker, Herald of the Forsaken Kingdom
Nationality: Clan of the Crow
Age: 34
Profession: Monsterslayer
Calling: Prophet of Wotan
History:
The Day of Sun's End is a solemn rite among the Bersarkar people, and none treat it with such solemnity as the Clan of the Crow. It is the last new moon of Autumn, when the faithful of the old ways make propitiation to Wotan, Judge of the Dead, to have mercy during the deep the Winter. In some places, the practice is outlawed by the Church. In others, a pig is bled, and eaten, and it is a feast day.
The Crow know life must pay for life.
No sacrifice was made the year of Wolkire's birth, however - his mother died in childbirth, and when he was born the spirit of his grandfather appeared at the fireside, and smiled. Wolkire was marked by Wotan's favour, a prophet of the death-god.
His father was a warrior of middling repute, and so Wolkire was raised instead by the Lamenter of the Clan, a longbeard wise in the lore of the Leaden Throne and the Halls Beyond Life. For a few years, it seemed the lad would come to nothing but a stout frame and thick skull, but when he was eight Wolkire began to speak for the dead. The ghosts calm to him begging a voice, begging aid, begging rest.
Wolkire will admit to few, now, how he cried. How they overwhelmed him.
He was trained to call upon the blessing he had been given, to act as Wotan would require, taught the lores of bone and blood. He was trained to be a warrior, too, for the Bersarkar do not expect faith to thrive in words alone. It was Wolkire's duty to lay the unquiet dead to rest, they told him. He must be strong of will and body, strike down the upir, the ghouls, the draugr and the spectres that haunt the cold hills of his homeland.
But his teachers were not solely the living.
The ghost of his grandfather has always been with Wolkire, watching over him. Teaching him those secrets the living could not know. Promising a great destiny - as Hrota had done in ages past, Wolkire was to seize the City and unite the Clans, cast down the pretender king who had driven the Bersarkar into the icy wilds to live among the fae and the monsters.
So Wolkire has come to the city.
Personality:
Wolkire is a large personality. He booms and boasts, he drinks and woos, he eats and fights with vigour. He loves a tense battle, and loves a good party still more. He has great respect for poets and storytellers, and has a fierce, simple charisma in his preaching.
And he does preach. His faith is seemingly unshakable - he is the vessel by which Wotan's will be done. He is a hero and a prophet, and you'd best not forget it.
He has been learning this subtlety thing of which his Cityborn companions speak, but finds it little to his liking.
Powers:
Wolkire is a Necromancer. Oh, he might believe utterly that his gifts are divine, but Wolkire's soul is infused by the Pattern of the Leaden Skull.
He can see the ghosts of the dead, tether, bind, and release them. He can cross into The World Without Sun. He can decay, age, and rot enemies or objects, but this is a little harder for him, and his power of raising the dead is weak. He can control and turn undead, however - usually to command them to stand where he can cut them down.
Appearance:
At 5'10, he's taller than most of his kin. Broad, muscular, covered in scars. His face is hard, broad-featured, and well-lined. His slate-gray eyes don't lack warmth. A white scar across his forehead makes frowns severe, and he broods often enough. Quicker to laugh, generally. Has a slight tan on his face where his helmet doesn't keep the sun off. Full beard, full hair, blonde shading to silver-gray.
Panoply:
A suit of plate and chain armour, handed down for generations. Engraved on the back with wings. On the pauldrons are patterns of crow-wings and skulls. Kept in excellent condition.
His weapon is a glaive called Draugsleep, an ancient weapon forged when the Clans were mighty with an art long lost. About six feet long, from end to end, two feet of it single-edged blade. The haft is mostly plain, a silver-grey material that seems to be some supremely light metal. Skeletal hands are moulded around the place where the blade begins, and the blade itself is engraved with prayers in a tongue long lost.
It can strike ghosts, and undead felled by it remain felled.
Allies:
Entourage:
More to come later. @Pooka was interested in this.
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