Name: Rork Gameson
Mug:
Sprite: (optional)
Bloodline: Minor Cuthel
Class: Bandit -> Mountain Warrior
Character Skill: Celerity.
Affinity:
Personal Fault:
Weak Point: When suffering a Critical Hit, reduce all damage dealt by 5 for the phase.
Personal Skills:
Momentum: When using more than half max movement in one turn, gain a +15 to Hit.
Familiar Lands: When on Mountain or Hill Terrain, gain a +10 to Evade.
Bloodbath: The first time you defeat an enemy per turn, recover 2 HP.
Preferred Stats: Strength, Health.
Weapon Profs: Bludgeon (C) , Axe (D)
Total Level: 1
Level: Bandit 1
HP: 24 (70%)
STR: 7 (70%)
MAG: 0 (0%)
SKL: 3 (+2)= 5 (60%)
LCK: 1 (+2)= 3 (50%)
DEF: 3 (35%)
RES: 0 (25%)
SPD: 3 (35%)
CON: 11
AID: 10
MOV: 6
Bio: Born to Dunland villagers, Rork had spent his young life as son to a local huntsman, learning the unforgiving mountains as part of the plan to take over the family trade as providers for the village. However, young Rork was too hot blooded and resistant to authority to stomach being told his life would stay like this for forever and a day, and so he planned an escape to see the world and come back home one day. The only person he told was a childhood friend on the night he left, a woodsmans axe slung over his shoulder and no destination or provisions in mind.
Had Rork not been brought up by an experienced woodsman, and not been lost trying to find the nearest town, he would have starved to death on the rocky mountainsides his people called home. At the very least his skill in tracking and reading the woods allowed him to avoid patrolling soldiers or roving bandits for a time, and he fed himself in the way he had been taught: Never take more than you need, and always pay back the land for feeding you lest it deem you unworthy of survival.
His luck eventually ran out, causing him to run into a pack of bandits. They had begun migrating due to the heavy patrols from Dunland’s authorities, set against them in particular for a daring raid on a royal caravan containing who knows what. The bandits interrogated him, but their leader stepped in when he realized the young man had no attachments to Dunland royalty besides their shared birth nation, recruiting the young man to his gang. It was hardly for charity, as the crafty leader had realized having someone who knew the land would be of more use than ever, especially when it came to not starving.
Years passed as Rork tempered himself, keeping from being one of the boss' 'examples' by learning when and where he could speak. Turned from hot-headed youth to taciturn bandit, he still attempted to follow his old credo of giving back where he could and refusing to take more than he needed, even when his fellow bandit forced him to break code to survive. He grew adept at learning the pattern of patrols and the movement of small soldier groups, not due to education, but because of a need to survive and avoid conflict with heavily armed soldiery defending the roads.
Said understanding had him realize something, long before news of the war for Wyrmpeak's daunting mountains reached them by way of an abused merchant. The number of soldiers patrolling had increased, and encampments had sprung up where none should be. There was no way an entire army was being mobilized to hunt down brigands, even ones as slippery as his gang. So, he made a decision and prepared.
One night when the moon shone bright, he stole out of camp with provisions and a trusty axe, stealing away towards the border and back home. He had a plan, and that was to enlist with the Dunland army. His past had to remain shrouded, but playing the country bumpkin eager to die for his country would help others overlook his secrecy. So long as he kept his mouth shut and remembered to keep himself alive, he could make a name for himself and, perhaps, go back home with honor and money enough to live comfortably.
