So this guy has been locked in my head for some time now, making cameo appearances in a few of my games from time to time. Now he wants his own story!
Tales of the Wanderer
He knew not his past, where he came from, who he was. He knew not who his parents were, who his friends were – if he had any. All he remembered was that first day when he woke up.
He had woken, trapped by a beam of wood that was pinning him down. The rest of the building had collapsed inwards, trapping him so. Using all his strength he was able to free himself. He discovered he was wounded – several times over – slashes to his arms and legs. He wore a metal chest plate that was battered and scarred itself. His cloak was torn, the sleeves of his tunic were bloodstained, as were his pants and boots. It seemed that he had been in a fight recently.
The glint of metal in the rubble caught his attention. He sifted through it until he found the object – a large sword. It was his – he realized as he twirled it with one hand. The weight was right, the grip fit snuggly in his massive hand. It was an extension of his arm.
He left the rubble of the building then, finding himself in the town square. It was dark out but fires burned from countless buildings. It caste an eerie light over the horrors of the town square. The dead townsfolk had been piled haphazardly in the center of the square. A spear jutting out from the top spitted the head of the town Elder above a black banner.
He felt anger well up inside of him. Who had done this? Why would they do such a thing? To the children to? The image was burnt into his mind. He would never forget the black banner nor the mound of bodies it rested upon.
There was nothing left for him to do. He did not remember anything prior to that moment. It was then that he had set off, looking for the Legion that flew a black flag. That had been nearly a week ago.
He had wandered aimlessly since then, moving from town to town, searching for that black flag. But he had a problem. He couldn’t speak. He understood every language for some reason, but could not respond himself. He didn’t know why so was forced to nodding his head and using a sign language of a sort.
He quickly discovered that the world revolved around money too. He had scavenged for his first meal and then had taken a sizeable about of money from a group of bandits that had tried to waylay him on a deserted road. Their corpses now fed the crows and would not be missed by the nearby village.
He would need to sell his services, he realized, putting his quest on hold until he had enough money to sustain himself for a while. It was in such a predicament that he found himself in New Haven, a thriving city with plenty of work to be had.
What I am looking for...
A female companion and/or a small band of Mercenaries that he gets hired into, to partake on a journey full of twists, danger, and love. There are greater things astride then his quest to kill the Legion of the Black.