Description
A massive man, Andrlos stands a head above six feet tall, and with a
musculature to match. His chest and shoulders strain against his light
armor, causing leather straps to creak and metal chains to grind. His skin
is strangely pale, unlike any common in Thera, with even paler scars
crisscrossing his arms.His hair is an unkempt silver mane, the last
vestiges of dark brown fading rapidly. The tangles and curls of his hair
flow into his beard, uneven and untrimmed, but short enough to avoid getting
in his way. Above his silver beard, his craggy face is as pale as his arms,
though lacking the scars. Dark grey eyes flash above a strong nose, an
almost noble look to him. About his eyes, fine lines have given way to
deeper wrinkles, as time begins ravaging his body and face. Notably, a crude
tattoo of a wolfs head is visible on his neck and shoulder, presumably the
remainder of the wolf covers his back, hidden by his armor. The tattooed
snout reaches to just below his right ear, as if whispering to him, or adding
its howl to his own.
Role
Andrlos, Wolf of Joheem
Added Sat Sep 13 00:06:40 2003 at level 1:
The sun had been hot, that year, melting the snow in the high passes to the
west. Andrlos and his kinsmen, family, friends, left the city of
Ulun-Joheem, to found Askan-Joheem beyond the mountains, to spread cult of
the Wolf. For months they struggled moving through the mountain crags,
losing many of their number, the fourteen year old Andrlos had lost two
uncles and a cousin to avalanches. But the Wolf guided them to water and
food. And the hundred strong party left the mountains just as the first
snows began.
The settlement was only partly built when the snows reached the lowlands, a
mild one, much to the luck of the settlers. They had found an ancient keep
in a dark wood, and planned to make it their own. The winter camp was just
to the east of it, near a town the locals seemed to call "Bar-Ovia." A
number of raids over the winter supplied the barbarians well, as they planned
to learn about the cult of Ovia, before scattering his people. But by
snowmelt, the winter camp was decimated. Wave after wave of plague swept
through the camp, until the living could not find enough skins to lay the
dead upon.
Then the attacks began. Undead, skeletons and zombies, came during the
night, striking with increasing ferocity each time, until even the dead of
Askan-Joheem rose to fight their own living kin. Decimated by plague, broken
by the undead, the dozen survivors thought to return to Ulun-Joheem. But by
now the high passes were snowed in again, and only four survived the attempt
to reach the passes. Their food stores diminished, and hope gone, they
returned to Bar-Ovia to destroy the defiled bodies of their kin, and sell
their lives dearly.
But one other thing remained. The totem of Joheem had to be hidden away,
kept from the grasp of the undead. And that task fell to Andrlos, who
carried the totem to the north, hiding it away in a forest there, he later
learned its name was Prosimy. It saved his live. He was unable to find his
way back to his kin, unable to die with them. He has lived in the wilds near
Bar-Ovia now for a year, listening to the people of Bar-Ovia from the bushes
and trees, slowly learning their language, their customs, their cults. And
now he emerges from there, moving westward toward Arkham, and to Thera as a
whole.