Fiorrin of Eskar
An unusually balding and overweight wood elf, who is nonetheless a credit to his people's hunting skills being an excellent marksman and tracker.
Mental characteristics
Personal history
Fiorrin was born into a village of wood elves to the north of Irona. Throughout his childhood, the superstitious boy grew up on tales of violent folklore, hearing about the ghouls, ghosts and beasts that prowled the dark, cold forests and threatened his people. The community of his clan lived in relative peace, yet the unsettling signs, and songs of beasts beyond the limits of mortal power continued to haunt every man, woman and child of the hearth, and the screeches of the wind, the thunder and the rain broke every one of them from a peaceful sleep on more than one night. As he grew older, the boy Fiorrin learned the trade of tracking, hunting, woodcraft and archery from his parents. One day however, in the cold and treacherous depths of winter, the screams of the howling gales grew evermore pierce and sharp. The older men and women of the village became convinced of the presence of malevolent beasts, beasts that existed only to cause the suffering of good folk had entered their lands and so, drunk on fear and superstition decided to enter the darkest parts of the forests to confront the monsters that threatened them so. None returned. And as the graves were dug in such a number that had not been witnessed in several generations, Fiorrin became an orphan. Yet with their deaths, came a peace paid for in red, for the elders claimed that the beasts were satisfied with the blood of the brave patriots and would require no more for the next year. Such a bought peace was only brief however, and the remaining members of the village, the old, the sickly, and those too young to join the would-be crusaders, chose caution over pride. They were not prepared to risk another time of torment from the ghouls that had taken their families and so the last of the villagers abandoned their homes and ventured east across the land to the nearest of their kin. But life was and remains cruel, and despite their welcome, the settlement of elves that took them in became crowded and overpopulated. Safety in numbers from invaders, that was true, yet food was now scarce, and disease would spread all too easily, lying in wait for the weak and vulnerable.
As he grew in this new settlement, the youth Fiorrin dedicated himself to hunting, to feed his people, to sell what furs and tusks and ivory he could to those traders that were within reach. Years passed, and despite the hardships of poverty and hunger, no beasts nor monsters were thought to have returned. But every month, Fiorrin would take the finest of his kills and leave it at his territory’s borders to appease any foul monster that may have been prowling nearby.
As his childhood came to its end, Fiorrin found love from a girl of the outskirts of his rath, a sweet young fishergirl, named Mesada impressed by his devotion to feeding and providing for the struggling villages of their people. Their courtship was short and happy, and the marriage came as no surprise to those who knew them. Yet as a husband, Fiorrin now felt more obliged than ever to provide for his loved ones, and his trapping expeditions became more frequent, more risky, and more perilous. Only the best game of elk, wolf, moose, bear, wild cat and boar would do to bring enough gold home for his wife, his friends, his neighbours. His skills as an archer and ranger became more profound, but so too did the wounds he took in the treks further and further from civilisation. His knowledge and experience as a trapper and survivalist in the harsh north grew tenfold, and as time passed more and more people paid him for his services as a guide to see them safely across the wilderness. Travelers, migrating families, trading caravans, even entire army regiments would hire him to see them safely through the north. Through moors and plains, forests and rivers, over mountains and lakes, against predators and bandit lands, Fiorrin would lead them, despite the dangers, all so his people might eat in the winter months. Many scars, many broken bones he suffered, and much blood shed in these adventures. All worth it for the price of survival.
There was light in these bleak, cold times though as Fiorrin and Mesada welcomed their children into the world, two boys and two girls who never failed to put smiles on faces, and worry in peoples hearts. Though he loved his crop of four, they were more hungry mouths to feed, and the strain to provide for all grew evermore fragile. And yet, it was no longer hunger that threatened them the most. The tales of monsters and creatures in the dark had returned, creeping beasts that were said to snatch both the unwary and the vigilant from the shadows, the weak and strong both. Fiorrin had no desire to let his children grow up in such a time of terror as he had, and so to comfort them that they may sleep at night, he promised he would become the new village watchman, the guard patrolling the borders and the graveyards where the monsters were said to re-emerge into the mortal realm. He promised his family he would slay the beasts no matter where they roamed, with blade and bow, so the bairns would know their father was always protecting them.
As the years passed, Fiorrin’s bow now hunted the dark monsters as well as natural game; for weeks and months at a time, Fiorrin would leave home whenever sightings of cruel beasts were reported. Sometimes he would ride into the wild before the rumours started, paranoid and determined to find any threat, before it found him and his kin. Taking up the mantle of a warrior as well as a hunter, he also brought with him two blades in his challenges against the monsters. Even at home, his days were spent hunting, foresting, and scouting, and his nights spent patrolling the graveyards and the borders with lantern and weapons in hand, a warning horn at his side, and fear in his heart.
Yet despite his efforts, there was only so much one could do against hordes of evil, and Fiorrin sent out pleas to his neighbours and friends, asking them to put down their ploughs and crafting tools to take up arms and torches as their mothers and fathers had decades before. But history would only repeat itself and the villagers fought a losing war. Word of the dangers spread and the traders and merchants who had once been the key custom of the villages would not risk exposing themselves to such a toxic, demonic land. As coffers and gold trickled away to nothing, poverty swelled as ominous and threatening as never before. Worse, as more and more people returned in funeral carts or not at all, too few remained to work the fields, to hunt game, to trade, to mix medicine. Hunger and plague took up their wrath against the wood elves in a fury as deadly as the monsters who lurked in the dark. Their crusade lost, their doom inevitable, their spirits were crushed as one by one the people died like flies…
…until one day, Fiorrin heard word of great chests buried away in the unknown, chests of such value and wealth that only a madman would ignore. Chests overflowing with rubies of deepest crimson, sapphires of the most sparkling blue, emeralds of richest green. Jade, onyx, gold, silver, diamond that shone brighter than moon and sun both. Such wealth could be the answer of the gods to the prayers of a desperate people. If Fiorrin could find this treasure, he could bring his people south, in a migration to safety away from the beats of evil, away from the hunger, the disease, the poverty that was killing them. They could survive and live in safety in the haven city of Ville Lyssonne, with enough wealth to keep them fat and protected for generations to come. Fiorrin left his village behind, promising to return only with the gifts of the gods, or not at all.
Personality Characteristics
Motivation
To gain enough funds to buy enough means and supplies to transport his village of 200-300 across the continent of Irona and find/buy a settlement large enough and prosperous for his people to live securely.
Likes & Dislikes
Social
Family Ties
Spouse: Mesada, his wife (aged 400, long chestnut hair, dresses in sea-green and pale white-grey)
Sons: Garlus(aged 149, long auburn hair and goatee, flecked with black), Hasthal (aged 100, jet-black hair), Korza (aged 21, light grey skin and rams horns)
Daughters: Laraca (aged 121, pale chestnut hair, closer to ginger), Kelsei (aged 72, dark brown hair, almost black like her brother and father (formerly), but with faint highlights of chesnut like her mother)
Also owns a piebald horse named Splodge
Species
Age
457
Birthplace
Eskar
Children
Gender
Male
Eyes
Hazel flecked with green
Hair
prominently balding, only short grey hair on the back and sides of his head & cropped grey beard.
Height
6'7"
Weight
24st
Other Affiliations
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