Bjorn Vetr (Character Sheet)

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Bjorn Vetr (Character Sheet)

Post  Bjorn Vetr on Thu Mar 10, 2011 11:47 pm

Character
Character: Bjorn Vetr
Species: Human
Sex: Male
Birthdate: 20th Nuzyael 700
Sunsign: Ulandus
Birthplace: Tawheim
Culture: Viking
Social Class: Freeman (unguilded)
Occupation: Trapper

Parents
Parent: Both Parents alive & living together
Parent’s Occupation: Trapper
Sibling Rank: Youngest of 6
Estrangement: Popular
Clanhead: Cousin

Appearance
Height: 6'3" - 75"
Frame: Heavy (15)
Weight: 204/8
Complexion: Medium
Hair Color: Red
Eye Color: Green

Psyche: Mild Acrophobia (fear of heights)

Physical Attributes
Strength: 17
Stamina: 16
Dexterity: 17
Agility: 14
Eyesight: 16
Hearing: 12
Smell: 15
Voice: 10
Comeliness: 9
Endurance: 18/90

Personal Attributes
Intelligence: 12
Aura: 12
Will: 17
Morality: Law Abiding (12) - One who respects law and custom, and strives to maintain high moral standards, but sometimes lapses. The law-abiding character will usually keep promises made and avoid harming others, but has little difficulty committing violence in a “just” cause. This character suffers guilt after sinning and can be inspired to virtue.
Piety: 18


PHYSICAL
Climbing: 18/72
Jumping: 15/60
Stealth: 14/56
Throwing: 17/68
Condition: 18/90

COMMUNICATION
Awareness: 14/56
Intrigue: 14/42
Oratory: 10/20
Rhetoric: 13/39
Singing: 11/33
Language, Orbaalese: 73
Language, Ivinian: 73
Language, Jarin: 63
Language, Harnic: 43

RELIGION
Ritual: 13/13

COMBAT
Initiative: 16/80
Unarmed: 18/60
BattleAxe: 17/85
Dagger: 17/68
Shortbow: 17/85
Spear: 18/108
Shield: 18/108

LORE/CRAFT
Fishing: 17/51
Fletching: 17/34
Foraging: 17/51
Hidework: 17/51
Physician: 15/15
Survival: 17/68
Tracking: 19/38
Trapping: 18/72


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Bjorn Vetr

Posts : 48
Join date : 2011-03-10
Age : 38
Location : Caldwell, Idaho

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Appearance

Post  GM on Thu Oct 27, 2011 5:02 am

Without his scar, Bjorn would never be much to look at. His skin is tan and well worn for one his age, and his face is too plain for anyone to take notice. That one scar, however, ensures that his face is one that's never forgotten. Deep lines curve around his left eye, which took on a permanent squint at the time the scar was made. This particular scar is easily the first thing noticed when one gazes upon him. Starting in the middle of his face, three scarred claw marks stretch diagonally down toward the left, just missing his eye. The scar is accompanied by deep set green eyes that seem to take everything in, and unkempt crimson red hair and beard, growing like a thick bush down his long face. A second scar balances out the right side, running like a great jagged crack down the side of a cliff.

Standing over six feet tall, his weight is well distributed across his tall frame, attempting to hide how large the man really is. He walks slightly stopped over, a side effect from years spent gazing toward the ground, and his body is covered in furs and roughly tanned animal hide from head to toe. Around his neck hangs a necklace of bear claws, which match the size of his scar almost perfectly.
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Equipment

Post  GM on Thu Oct 27, 2011 5:05 am

Equipment
Quilt Tunic (fur)
Quilt Cowl (fur)
Leather Tunic
Leather - leggings, kneeboots, & gauntlets
Kurbal - vambraces, & Coudes
Plate Halfhelm
Bear claw necklace
Heavy BattleAxe (7.5)
Shortbow (2)
Roundshield (6)
Spear - 6' (5)
Quiver (24 arrows) (2)
Knife (1)
Heavy Dagger (1.2)

Encumbrance & Penalties
Current Combat Weight: 27.2 lbs
Travel Weight: 102.7 lbs

Waterskin (1) - 1 gallon capacity
Money Pouch (.2) - 1 lb capacity

Amber Earings (12.5d)
Silver Ring w/ gold inlay (120d)
4d in silver


Small Leather Pouch (.5) - 5 lbs capacity

Fishing kit (.2)
Flint & Steel (.5)
Hideworking kit (2)


Large Leather Bag w/rope to throw over shoulder (waterproofed) (3) - 50 lbs capacity

Tarp, waterproof (3) - 5' x 8'
Heavy wool Blanket (8 )
Light Hemp Rope (5) - 20 ft
Twine (1) - 50 yds
Set of average clothing (5)
Trail Rations (9) - 4 days worth
Beaver Pelt, for trade (worth 20d)



Protection values (all available armor worn)
Body Part Layers B E P F
Skull Q, K 11 13 8 6
Face 0 0 0 0
Neck Q 5 3 2 4
Shoulder Q, L 7 7 5 7
Chest Q, L 7 7 5 7
Back Q, L 7 7 5 7
Abdomen Q, L 7 7 5 7
Groin Q, L, L 9 11 8 10
Upper Arm Q 7 7 5 7
Elbow K 4 5 4 3
Forearm K 4 5 4 3
Hand L 2 4 3 3
Hip Q, L, L 9 11 8 10
Thigh L 2 4 3 3
Knee L, L 4 8 6 6
Calf L, L 4 8 6 6
Foot L 2 4 3 3


Weapons WQ AML DML HM B E P
Battleaxe 12 95 85 -15 8 13 (8 )
Shortbow 10 80 80 -- 1 -- 6
Dagger 11 73 73 -- 1 3 7
Round Shield 13 103 118 -- 2 -- (4)
Spear 11 118 108 -10 5 -- 8
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Friends and Foes...

Post  GM on Thu Oct 27, 2011 5:07 am

Njal Zuben, Mercantyler Apprentice (Unfriendly, Loyalty 13%)

Sigmund Erlanger, Skald (Acquaintance, Loyalty 40%)

Olaf Seka, Mercenary (Acquaintance, Loyalty 50%)

Dagaas Zwaiga, Valhakar of Tawheim (Friend, Loyalty 58%)

The sound of falling rain echoed softly through the dense mountain forest, interrupted by the steady footfalls of a large man, his massive feet pounding a rhythm in the muddy forest path. The pounding rhythm slowed as the man approached a small clearing. He paused at the edge and peered out cautiously, his hand held over his eyes to shelter them from the rain. Stepping softly, the large figure carefully worked his way into the clearing, his soft steps now nearly silent.

Suddenly the man rose up to his full height and cursed, kicking a small broken trap to the other side of the clearing. That was the fifth broken trap in his line so far. It wasn't enough that they were empty, the animals had been trapped and then somehow broken free. Every single one of them. Cursing his luck, the man took off through the opposite side of the clearing, his feet quickly resuming the pounding rhythm though the muddy trail.

Bjorn hated the rain. It was his most bitter enemy on days like this. His traps and snares were weakened by the moisture, causing them to break easier, and animals tended to remain in the trees and underground burrows. Not that he could blame them, sometimes he wondered why he ventured out on days like this. But the trap line needed to be deployed and harvested.

Bjorn's father had injured his leg in a nasty fall a few years ago, and it didn't look like he was ever going to fully recover. His five older siblings had all been girls, and the youngest was married last summer. It was true that the brideprices of five daughters had brought a good deal of money to the family, but the trapping business had to continue to make ends meet. With his sisters gone, and his father injured, the duty of running the trapline fell on Bjorn's shoulders. And Bjorn took his duty very seriously.

It wasn't that Bjorn hated running traps, aside from the rain and the dizzying heights, it was one of his favorite things to do. But he missed his time in the militia. His fathers injury had forced him to spend less time in the shield wall and more time running traps for the family. As a shy and nervous boy, the only times he felt comfortable around people was in the militia, and he had been good at it. Even as a teenager, he was over six feet tall. His size and natural skill made him a gifted warrior. Often as a boy he dreamed of participating in great battles, and traveling the world. Now it seemed that the only thing he would ever know were these mountains.

From off to his right came the sound of a snapping branch, the noise piercing the falling rain to reach the large man's ears, pulling him out of his thoughts. Skidding to a halt, he quickly ducked behind a tree and peered carefully into the dense foliage. That sound had been too loud to have come from a small animal. And Bjorn doubted there were any others from his small thran in these woods. Perhaps a deer or an elk trying to find shelter from the rain.

For a brief second he thought he saw a short figure crouching behind a tree, the sharp battle cry sounded behind him, echoing from his left and right. In no time he was surrounded by over a dozen gargun. The large man quickly yanked his battle axe off his back and swung it in great arcs, threatening the small creatures around him. This was why militia training was so important to his small thran, even more so than other nearby thrans. Nestled among the mountains, the small thran of Tawheim was under the constant threat of attacks and gargun raids. Bjorn's skill and training had allowed him to survive several attacks by these creatures already. He was one of the very few that would venture out on his own.

It soon appeared that his luck had finally run out. Bjorn had fought his way through attacks before, several skirmishes with the gargun, a very hungry bear, and even a small pack of wolves. This time, however, there were too many of them. Bjorn dodged a quick thrust from one of the gargun, and countered with a ferocious swing of his battleaxe, nearly cleaving the creature in two. He yelled in pain as he was struck from behind, their weapons slicing deeply into his leg. Another swing of his battleaxe caused them to jump back, but they quickly recovered and slowly began closing around him once more.

The fight seemed to go on forever, his muscles strained from the constant effort. Unable to lower his guard for even an instant, he struggled to continue. He was holding his own, but it was just a matter of time. Several of the creatures lay dead around him, others were injured on the ground, attempting to crawl off to safety. Yet each time he struck a blow at them, the creatures took advantage of the opening and struck back. Bjorn bled from multiple wounds, the blood trickled down his legs and was beginning to pool around his feet. Just as he was starting to slip into unconsciousness, he heard two distinct battle cries. The last images he saw were of two figures surrounding him protectively, swinging their battleaxes in great arcs. Then he dropped to his knees, and the ground came up to meet him as his eyes sealed shut.

The next few hours were blur, he remembered something about eating an apple, and the two strangers dressing his wounds. The next day he woke with a start, reaching instinctively for his battleaxe. Realizing all was well, he looked down in wonder at his various wounds. Most were completely healed, and even the worse were well on their way to mending. His two saviors greeted him, and introduced themselves as Meldun Jarlaka and Bryndis Serewyn of Marby.

Grateful for saving his life, Bjorn swore his life to protecting Meldun along his journey. Together they journeyed back to his home, where Bjorn informed his family of his decision to travel with Meldun and Bryndis. His father had finally recovered enough to resume his trapping profession, he would always walk with a limp, but he assured his son that he was ready to return to the mountains. Father and son shook hands, and then shared a quick embrace, slapping each other on the back. Then with one last farewell, Bjorn turned from his old life, and the three new friends set off in search of adventure.
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