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Bannoc

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It is one thing to speak of honour, to treat in vows. It’s another entirely to fulfill them, to die for them. Our word is what separates us from the beasts…

 

“If you go to war Bannoc Karvosi, you shall earn renown worthy of heroes, and carve out for yourself all the glory you have ever coveted. When the ashes settle and you emerge victorious, a son of the Broadfoot will burn. Uroc’s spine ablaze. Flames shall feast whilst the eagle soars. If you go to war, you are changed. You shall become a consummate soldier and a liberating legend, the most loyal servant to a Queen all of Gold. Even the Storm-God himself will favour you. But if you go to war, you shall know a life absent marriage and offspring. Love is not to be yours. Yours will be the stormy path of duty, of  pain and perpetual war. And although at the end of your battles, wings shall carry you into the sky to reap your reward, you will die for your vows. You will die before your time. Alone, in the most brutal and painful of ways.” 

 

 -Desralda Karvosi’s prophecy on the eve of the Troll war…

 

 

(  For deeper reading and more on Bannoc’s colourful past, please see here! http://www.rolepages.com/story/hearken-to-a-time-for-heroes/  )

Who Am I...

Last of the Karvosi. The roaming Storm-Dragon.

My Story Is...

I am a lone traveller, a wanderer of worlds. The earth spins a tale beneath my soles, the wind a sweet song between my wings. I am a  stoic and modest man with simple tastes tuned to the untamed freedom and self sufficiency found on the open road. My craving is for the knowledge that can be unearthed along those timeless walkways. Roads rife with adventure, teeming with tale and song! Where the impossible becomes possible. Life is a treasure trove for the wanderer, gleaming with people to meet, things to see, hear and learn. I possess no lust for power, no misplaced desire for wealth or materialistic indulgence. My nomadic existence on the road is spared all opulence, for I carry only my weapons, the simple clothes on my back and my meagre survival tools, so that I may always remain humble. I have wandered for seasons beyond counting. Travelling. Watching. Waiting for that time I am needed once more.

My Appearance

Six foot three in height, tall and broad chested. Once reasonably good-looking but war and time have aged him, he is never going to win any beauty contests. Late thirties in aspect. Iron grey eyes. Dark brown hair just starting to grey at the sides. A dark beard flecked with whites. Simple clothing and a hooded travel cloak. He wears a karvosi Tharyx sword. His face is lightly tattooed and heavily scarred. The scarring is so horrific as to cause disfigurement, a permanent sneer. In fact, his entire body beneath the clothing is a gruesome tapestry of horrific scars. They decorate all of his body, a testament to his violent death, when he was brutally butchered by his Queen’s enemies.