Wrath of the Vohven
Male Human Fighter
Stormcrow was raised on the outskirts of Hill’s Edge, the son of a former adventurer turned hunter, trapper and guide, Thorum Stormcrow. Thorum attempted to raise his son with a reverential attitude toward nature, but the young Stormcrow was far from responsive. He learned what he had to from his father to help out with the family business but did not share his parents deep seated passion for the natural world, and did not pay much attention to it or his father’s lessons. He did, however, develop a love for axe work and archery, both of which his father and older brother, Alrik, excelled at. As children, Stormcrow and his brother would spar in the yard and dream of battles, warfare and glory.
At the age of 16 the two brothers chance to encounter the glory of battle came, but it did not end the way either had envisioned.
Hill’s Edge called for volunteers for the militia, both the boys jumped at the chance. Against the orders of their father, the two brothers enlisted. They excelled at the 2 months of training they received. They built close bonds with the ten other fresh recruits, the type of bond that is only shared between men who’ve struggled together.
Soon after graduating training the green recruits were attached to a platoon of 20 men and sent out on their first ranging. The mission was to patrol a nearby forest road where a band of cutthroats led by a one eyed man named Brace had reportedly been making minor assaults on caravans.
They patrolled the road through a massive nearby forest. On the third night of the journey, deep in the heart of the wood they made camp.
Stormcrow awoke in the dark of night to a bloodcurdling wail. Before he could even begin to make sense of the noise the bandits were upon them. Scores of cutthroats stormed into the camp, butchering the militia in their sleep. There was no chance for battle, men were cut down as they stood to fight. Through flickering torchlight Stormcrow watched as all around him the men who had been like family were massacred. The few militia still alive were bolting into the woods in every direction, hoping to survive.
Stormcrow and Alrik dove into the woods and ran for their lives. The screams of their dying friends at their backs. The two boys ran for what seemed like an eternity, stumbling in the dark. Bloody, bruised and winded they stopped to catch their breath in a clearing under the light of the moon. Stormcrow recalls the next few seconds of his life in torturous slow motion. Alrik turned to speak to him, and then the shaft of an arrow, illuminated by moonlight, exploded through his brother’s face. Stormcrow watched the blood float through the air, but he felt nothing as it splattered all over him.
He looked up and saw the man that had murdered his brother, one eyed Brace, Glowering and malevolent, with several bloodthirsty killers at his back. Grinning, and proud the wretched bandit leader stared at Stormcrow as he slowly notched another arrow. In a moment of weakness that haunts him to this day, Stormcrow’s terror took over, and he turned tail and ran.
Pain exploded into his back, he stumbled. Another blinding wave of pain as the second arrow struck home. Stormcrow dropped onto the wet grass. Covered in the blood of his brother, his eyes slowly drooped close. The last sight they saw was the grinning face of Brace.
The next bit of Stormcrow’s life is a blur. One that he himself is unsure of. He awoke in a daze, the world was a cloud of pain and thirst. His memories the bitter trauma of the death of his friends and brother. He lay there in that clearing, sure of his impending doom. Wanting nothing more than to be free of the physical and emotional torment that had become his life, but too weak to end it himself.
Staring off into the forest with glazed eyes, what he can only describe now as a vision appeared. The hazy image of a unicorn came and drug the boy to water. He vaguely remembers the crystal clear pool and the soothing whispers of nearby voices. They sang to him. They called him guardian, protector, avenger. How long he lay there in a semi dream state, sipping from that pool, and chewing on bits of nearby plants, he is unsure. Long enough, though, that the grievous wounds he received mended enough for him to walk.
Stormcrow does not recall leaving that pool. He barely remembers the pool and the voices at all, and the memories themselves are covered in haze.
His next clear memory is one of stumbling out of the woods onto the road home. When he at last made it back to his parent’s house he was wounded, weak, and covered in dried blood. But very much alive. A month had passed since his patrol had gone out. Bodies had been recovered. Everyone was thought dead, the bandits had all escaped.
Stormcrow was the only survivor, and as his parent’s nursed him back to health, he began to believe that the Goddess of Nature, herself, had saved him from death in that clearing.
And so as he came to health,his days were spent in pain and his nights were tormented with memories of the screams of his dying brother and friends.
Recently, Stormcrow encountered a Thayan apprentice harrassing and attempting to extort a farmer on the outskirts of Hill’s Edge. He joined into the argument and backed the Thay down. A few nights later he ran into the same Thay soldier again, this time the soldier was drunk and with a friend. A fist fight soon broke out between the three. The Thay gained the upper hand. Stormcrow blacked out, and in a moment of desperation he drew his dagger and without having a chance to think, plunged it into the Thayan’s heart. He came to standing above the dead man’s body. Shocked at what he’d done, he fled the scene.
Worried about Thayan reprisal, or punishment by the law, Stormcrow left home as a fugitive and set out on his path to find the man responsible for his brothers murder. He believes the Thayan apprentice he killed was evil, and feels no guilt for taking his life, only for doing it in a dishonorable way.
He deals with a great deal of inner conflict and guilt over the loss of his platoon and brother. He is plagued with nightmares, and rarely get’s much sleep at all.
He does not hesitate to put himself in the way of danger to protect others, even at the risk of losing his own life. He does this to make up for the shame of running from his brother’s killer years ago. He speaks about his brother’s death with no one, the shame is too much for him.