A Ranger From the North: Ghost (Koram Whitehall)Adventurer, Explorer, Soldier and Ex-Convict;12 HP (Current 12); AC 15;
Ghost is a prototypical ranger. He has the throw-away skills, like Knowledge (Nature) and Heal, and he is ultra-inconsistent in combat. Like most rangers, Ghost will have to forage for basic equipment. I should say that I really enjoy playing a one-trick pony, and that's pretty much what Ghost is. Character Background: Koram Whitehall, the Defendant of the Case presented before the Court today, has hitherto plead guilty to the Act of Murder. By Order of the Laws that Bind US, Koram Whitehall is sentenced with compulsory service in the Defense of OUR KING'S BORDERS, until a time of SEVEN YEARS is completed, or until he be found DEAD. Furthermore, Koram Whitehall shall earn a standard wage to be paid in full to the VICTIM'S family.Character Appearance:
Ghost is a tall, handsome man, with an emaciated complexion materialized and expounded by the horrors of the wild. He has been exposed to inclement weather and has endured long periods of time without food. His face is worn and battered, and features a flattened nose bridge from multiple broken noses. Character History:
I found myself hovering over a dying young man in a small cave during a blizzard. His body could not endure the cold. I could not help him, but I attempted to alleviate his pain by distracting him with the story of my life. I am succinct by nature, but recognized the need to embellish. Since I am not naturally inclined to embellish either, I was forced to examine the events that led me here. So I told him my tragic story, with all of its cumbersome folds. How I was raised by a close-knit family that was missing its scion. My father disappeared mysteriously before I was born. I invested precious time telling him about all of the theories people in my tiny village had about what happened. Some were far-fetched, but entertaining. I thought I heard him laugh, but perhaps he simply coughed. I went on to tell him about how difficult it was to be brought up to be like a man you never knew. I told him about the girls, the adventures in the woods, the chores. It was tiring, but upon reflection, it wasn't so bad. I told him that, too. I realized that it wasn't so bad. I hope he realized that, too. About his life, I mean.
I told him about how I killed that man. I told him that I didn't regret it, but I didn't mean it. I told him how he was my best friend when we were growing up, and that one thing led to another and that a girl got involved. I spent a great deal of time telling him about how much I loved her. I think everyone has a girl they all think the world of, but all of that world-building doesn't ever pan out. I took that poor lad from the furthest reaches of misery to the highest peaks of exultation. That's how my emotions flow when I think back on her. I don't let my memories reside there often on account of all the fatigue brought upon by my punishment, but when I get the time, I like to go there, even with the pain. In a way, his dying allowed me to reminisce. And for a while, I was rejoicing at the poor lad's situation.
Then, I told him about all of my adventures in the brush. Battling the undead, stealing from the quartermaster, fending off enemy scouts. Most of my sentence was spent in sheer boredom, accompanied by hunger and cold. None of it was fun, and anything that departed from the usual routine was dreadful. He knew that. I told him about that little boy we had to execute because he felled a deer in the King's Forest. You know, I've seen some crazy things in the brush. But was the worst. I had to hold his father back. The dying lad in that cave had to hold the little boy down while the commander killed him. I told him that I didn't fault him for doing it, or crying about it afterwards. But the fellow was dead when I said that.Letters from the Front:Dearest Aunt Mildred,
I am writing to express to you my sincerest gratitude for your gift in the form of studded leather armor and a longsword. Both were extensively appreciated, and served me well during my commission against the living dead. Yes, I am content to report that I have officially been repatriated as a civilian, as the course of my sentence has been fulfilled, and I have earned my freedom after being pressed for military service. I have joined the Pathfinder Society as a wayfarer and explorer, but it does not pay much. It does provide a living, and I am certain that as my sagacity grows, my duties and responsibilities shall increase, too. In that, I hope to make my father proud.
That may sound odd to you, since you have always thought me to be indifferent towards my father. Without speaking much on the subject, let me assure you that I have always felt displaced in your care. Of that, you aren't at fault. You did your best, and I am sorry for everything I have done. I do retain an ounce of fondness for the parents whom you know I never met, though. You speak so kindly of them, though I know you never much liked my mother. I read your old letters. But I cannot blame you. I understand why you disliked her.
I wish I had met them, though. Everything I have ever read of my father is fantastic literature. He was bold, brave and good. I hope to emulate my career after his... I simply hope that I do not disappear like he did at the end. It is funny, that is my greatest fear. To disappear, without a word, into the darkness.
But I do not like to think about those things. I would like to remain wholly optimistic about my career. I have become more than a novice with swords, and am deemed a competent tactician by my wardens. They say that I have a natural inclination for all of nature's facets and a force of charisma that fosters companionship in man-eating animals! At any rate, I have also found something of a passion in mapmaking. I enjoy charting the edges of coasts, and hope to spend a part of my stipend on ink for the task.
I should like to write to you later, Aunt Mildred. You are so very dear to me.