For Profit and Glory!
G'warr (Gywen)- Doom Reaver Horseman
Wielder of an infamous Fellblade, G'warr struggles to retain his sanity.
A massive and imposing figure covered in scarred muscles. His eyes have a haunting look that appear to be windows to the abyss.
Weight: 215lbs. Height: 6’9"
Professions: Doom Reaver & Horseman
PHY: 5 / SPD: 7 / STR: 5
AGI: 5 / PRW: 5 / POI: 4
INT: 3 / PER: 4 / ARC: 0
Great Weapon: 2
Hand Weapon: 1
BENEFITS & ABILITIES:
Mighty: +1d6 damage on all melee attacks
Feat (Bounding Leap)
The fight with the wretched Khadorian occupiers had been bloody, and many good men and women were lost, but Gywen and his fellows would not rest in their fight to take back their country, not while blood still flowed in their veins and their hearts still pumped blood. Now they rested and healed, waiting for word of their next target or their next act of sabotage. Little did they know that, with the exception of Gywen, none would see the light of day, and Gywen would later wish that he had joined his fellows in death.
To call the thing a man would not be wholly accurate. It was a beast, a maniacal killer whose only humanity left was the human body that it used to shed blood. It came in the middle of the night while Gywen his fellow Llaelese Resistance fighters were all asleep, all except the two on watch and they were both struck down before they could raise the alarm. Gywen woke to the sounds of weapons clashing, screams of the dying and confusion of smoke and fire from burning tents and bodies. Dead horses and men lay scattered about, many savagely butchered. Grabbing his sword Gywen made his way to where the sounds of fighting were the most intense and he arrived just in time to see Lucius get cleaved in two by a massive muscular figure holding an enormous blade. There was a babbling sound in the air, like a thousand voices and the blood drenched blade and figure turned toward Gywen. The blood soaked figure accompanied by the tortuous sound of the babbling voices was unlike any terror that Gywen had faced before in his years as a warrior and though he wanted to turn and flee, his courage held firm in the belief that he had to face this monstrosity and do his part to save his comrades.
The bloody figure raised his huge bloody sword, and Gywen swore he could see numerous haunting faces on the blade moaning and screaming. Not unlike an Idarian bull, the figure charged forward, massive muscles rippling under skin, fresh bleeding cuts and embedded arrow shafts showing the man had already sustained numerous wounds from Gywen’s comrades that should have slayed him. Gywen held his ground and brought his sword up to block the downward swing of the massive blade aimed at his head. Steel connected with steel for a brief second before the huge blade cut right through Gywen’s sword. Gywen’s blade deflected the downward strike just enough that the fatal blow aimed at his head slashed across his chest instead and Gywen went down on one knee. Reacting as best he could, armed only with the hilt and shattered remnant of his sword, Gywen plunged what remained of the blade into his assailant’s upper thigh near the groin area. A gush of warm blood washed over his hand and Gywen staggered back as his enemy toppled to the ground and was still.
Panting for several long minutes, Gywen suddenly became aware of voices approaching his position. They were speaking in Khadorian and it dawned on Gywen that the huge blade-wielding berserker was only the first wave of attackers. This battle was lost, the Khador forces would easily kill or take prisoner any of Gywen’s comrades that were still alive, and Gywen’s best course of action would be to get to his horse, Beucephalus, and get to safety. Grabbing the closest weapon to replace his broken sword, Gywen’s hand wrapped around the hilt of his foe’s massive great sword and he was suddenly aware of the torrent of voices in his head. Mayhem, maiming, rage, kill, blood, destruction- these were only some of the murderous thoughts that saturated Gywen’s head and he struggled to force them back and not let them take control. The effort it took was immense, but Gywen retained his sanity and picked himself up, the voices still an ever torturous presence in his mind. Gywen would make his escape, but he would have to satiate the blade first and he stalked toward the Khador voices…
You and your family have done so much for me since the Khador occupation and the loss of my lands. I am very much thankful to have family such as you and hope that once again we all will be able to bask in the sun at my vineyards and see shows in the great amphitheater. I know that you, Toryn, have given me purpose once again. Our training sessions to show you the ways of the gun mage has allowed me to forget the war with Khador and provided many moments of happiness in these dire times. Like you, I understand the need for adventure, the need for wanderlust, especially in the prime of youth and I wish your mercenary charter the best of luck. There will always be money to be made in the times of war and I fear that our lands will not see peace for some time. I know that you will need strong and capable people in your group and I have no doubt that your keen eye will be able to see those with potential. Along these lines I wish to ask of you a favor. There is a friend of a friend, a man named Gywen. Like me he is a Llaelese citizen and a member of the resistance. I know little about him other than he is a capable warrior and wants to see Llael a free land again. Unfortunately, he has recently fallen on some hard times and is in need of work. Gywen is hard-working and no stranger to danger and I think giving him a spot in your mercenary group will give you some added muscle and allow Gywen to make some money. I only warn you that Gywen has seen much in this war and is subject to bouts of brutality and near instability. I ask that you use care in dealing with him and use him for what he is- a killer.
Your loving uncle,