Logan Threetrees
Logan was born a warrior. The Ulfen Wardens become martial disciples from the day they can form a fist. While they may seem primitive to some, these people squeeze the most they can from their way of life. In many ways that is a beautiful thing, and in many ways it is savage and unforgiving. His father Rudd was a man of stone, but with a small unknown crack in it, just enough for tenderness and pride for his son to creep in. Rudd always said he would die for Logan, and like a lifelong premonition, he eventually did…. But that is a tale for another day. Logan never knew his mother. No memory of the shape of her face, the sound of her voice. Just the tale of her throwing herself into the sea when he was not more than a babe. He thanked the gods for this forgiveness. That she did not have to watch her son grow up to be a killer. He can try to justify it all he wants. “I did what i was ordered to do. What needed to be done. For king. For country. For freedom.” All Bullshit. He makes no excuses for what he has become anymore. But Logan is tired now. Older. Sees the world for what it is. He seeks atonement where he can find it. Finds pleasure in doing simple favors for simple folk. Honest pay for an honest days work. Logan doesnt try to seek trouble anymore, but if trouble finds him, whoever that trouble is, regrets ever crossing his path after it is already too late.
When Logan was 7 he was already assisting his father on hunts. This wasnt the first nor last boar hunt Logan would accompany his father on, and this day had no special meaning whatsoever, but when Logan lost his spear and had become cornered by a massive feral boar, Rudd readying his spear to throw before the beasts tusks could rip into his sons flesh, he saw for the first time that Logan was special. Logan was born of the fates. That Gorum had blessed Logan with violence, fury, war, and glory. For good or bad, Logan was going to live a life out of his control. And he could not have been happier. For to carry the blood of Gorum, to be one of his chosen, the Fury Touched. It was a great Honor. Logan came to on his back, covered in blood, lying next to him a giant boar with one tusk in its mouth, and the other ripped from its skull and redistributed into its cold black eye.
Rudd took him to Jarl Bethod as all Fury Touched were lawfully required to be brought in to be inspected, tested, and sent north for training. For 8 years Logans body and spirit were abused, bent, broken and rebuilt all in the name of violence. It was a cold, hard place. There was never any warmth, no tenderness, no humanity. Logan was a tool now. To be used as Bethod saw fit. The battle masters trained him further in fists, knives, swords, axes, polearms, bows, anything that Logans enemies could throw at him he would learn to turn to his advantage. All Day he trained and at night the witches would try to help him control his states of Rage, but they knew early on that Gorums power ran deep within this boy, to an extent they had never seen. He could not summon the Fury at will but when it did come it was through moments of extreme pain or stress. He was unable to willfully end his berserker state until his Fury's perceived threat was eliminated. Even the battle masters practice dueling became a dangerous gamble as Logan grew. He even suspected that they were beginning to fear him. And he liked that very much.
Not a week after returning to his fathers home, Logan went back to Bethod and demanded to enter the dueling circle. To fight for the honor of Bethods champion. A fight that was surely to end with the death of a stupid, cocky young boy. For Bethods champion, Black Caulder was a battle hardened killer with a taste for blood. He was known to leave none alive in the circle, and loved to use small blades to draw the fight out longer. He liked to watch the life slowly drain from those foolish enough to challenge the Black Caulder. That day would end with death, but it would also mark the crowning of a new champion, a boy of 15. Logan, the youngest champion the Ulfen Wardens would ever know. Black Caulder was the first man Logan ever slew. And the rest is history. A blur of savage violence. He was Bethods dog. Where he pointed Logan went. Countless raids, battles, massacres, assassinations, duels to the death with rival Jarls champions. For most of his life Logan loved it. He was feared by his people and that gave him power. Though it was much later he realized that it never belonged to him. It was Bethods power. And he was in fact powerless. Born to fate, he had never had a single moment of his life in his own control.
After his father was slain, something broke inside Logan. And that night without a word. He abandoned his post and rode out into the night. A deserter. He knows that Bethod will come for him some day, and Logan will be ready to face him and his army of murderers when that time comes. But in the meantime, a decision made by Logan, for Logan, to find a little bit of peace.
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