The City of Ghosts
Hammerhand de Wulfe, Natak
Large Ogrun Barbarian, protector of Arkin
Race/Class: Ogrun / Beserker 2
Str 22 (6) Dex 15 (2) Con 16 (3) Int 12 (1) Wis 10 (0) Cha 10 (0)
Saves: Fort: +9 Ref: +2 Will: +0
Base Attack Bonus: +2
AC: 17 (10+2 Ogrun+2 DEX+3 Armor)
Attack 1 (War Cleaver) +1 Base +6 STR Damage 2d8 + 8
Attack 2( (Hand Axe) +1 Base +6 STR Damage 1d8 + 8
Attack 3 (Heavy Crossbow) +1 Base +2 DEX Damage 1d12 + 4
Movement:40’ (Fast Movement = 10’)
Rage: (1 time per day / 8 turns) +4 STR, +4 CON, +2 Will Saves, -2 AC
Allignment: Chaotic Good
Unspent Skill Points:0
Armor: Studded Leather Mail, Iron Bracer, Iron Bracer Shield
Weapons: War Cleaver, Hand Axe, Heavy Crossbow
Languages: Molgur-og (spoken), Cygnaran (spoken), Llaelese (spoken)
Feats: Stronghammer Smith, Power Attack
Natak stands over 8’2" tall, with long arms and a jutting jaw, with two of his bottom teeth protruding like small tusks.
Saved as a young Ogrun by the family de Wulfe. Pledged korune to Sebastian de Wulfe and tasked with being Arkin’s lifelong companion and protector. Natak showed an aptitude for smithing and has worked for the de Wulfe family producing simple weapons and armor for their personal guards.
After Arkin’s four years of military duty, Natak was returning with Arkin to Llael’s capital city, Merywyn. On the road there, they “rescued” a young elf maiden from a wizard’s attack. She introduced herself simply as Lyssa. Natak doesn’t know what to make of this thin, scrawny lass, but is amused by her and accepts her as long as she remains with the group.
Natak mostly remembers colors when asked about my youth. Endless fields and hills of green that turned yellow then orange and red and finally white. Natak’s earliest memories were of playing with my older brother, Vogol, and sister, Vilin, in those colors – playing games with amusing names – “Wolf and Sheep”, “Make It or Break It” and especially with Vilin, “Pretty Trees”. Vilin and I spent many hours constructing beautiful towns amongst the trees – she loved clever ways of getting water to the town and would spend endless hours making waterwheels and pipes to get the water from a nearby stream to the town we built… Natak doesn’t remember how long this cycle of playing in the colors went on, but it always brings a toothy grin to his face when he thinks about it.
That cycle was interrupted one day by my father, Gantak Hammerhand. My memories of my father are mostly ones at the forge. He was the leader of our small clan, a smith by human standards, one who had an innate ability to put things together and to fix things that were broken – it seemed like magic to me at the time. He was the one who showed us how to play “Make It or Break It” – and I still can see his smile when Vogol or Natak came up with a clever way of making something. My father pulled me into the forge one day and started explaining how he worked while he was building something. Natak remembers endless hours of odd jobs, fetching a particular stone – or piece of metal, salt, or water – whatever my father wanted. This led to showing me how the forge worked – and developed my arms and legs pumping the bellows, fetching water and pounding on pieces of metal my father allowed me to work on.
Vogol, on the other hand, wanted nothing to do with the forge. Always looking at the horizon, he wanted to explore the world – “out there” as he put it. He was always caught coming back from where he shouldn’t have gone – the boggy pits to the west of our home – or just disappearing for a long time – sometime overnight. Natak’s mother, Kilin, would catch him sneaking back into our home and father would spend long hours trying to beat the wanderlust out of him. Afterwards, he would limp back into our room and regale Vilin and myself with wondrous stories of the graveyard and the “monster bones” he discovered or some other fantastic adventure he had.
Kilin would listen to him and just shake her head. She was a simple person- loving and kind – who always had a saying for whatever happened. “No one helps those who are idle”, “Every good deed deserves another” and so on. She constantly spouted sometimes irrational expressions that endeared her to everyone, myself included.
Vilin. Natak loved my innocent Vilin. She was hopeless, completely unaware of what was going on around her. She lived in a make-believe world – where others obeyed her and she was the ruler of a large kingdom. My father and mother smiled frequently at her. My brother couldn’t stand her. To me, she was simply charming in her own way – and Natak adored her.
We lived in a clan of about 30 males and 40 females on the outskirts of the mountains of Cygnar – well away from normal trade routes (whatever those were – Natak didn’t know what “trade” was back then). Our group preferred to remain hidden – we hunted, fished, grew food and made things – but rarely saw anyone else. We kept to ourselves – everyone was taught at a young age around the evening campfires – safety was when we stayed home. Terrible things happened to those who strayed from the village – that’s what the elders taught. Vogol snorted at these “discussions” – he knew better (or so he said afterwards when we were in bed for the night).
Everything about my life changed one fateful day. Our scouts ran back into the village proper one day in the fall of the year, and shouted about mechanical beings entering the valley where we had set up this particular year. They mentioned several mounted “majickers” who seemed to direct countless armed humans – some on foot, but most on horseback. My father immediately grabbed weapons and asked several other males to follow him – that he would harass the “humans” so everyone had time to pack and leave this area. We planned to meet up back closer to the large mountains nearby to assess our predicament. His last words to me were – “Protect what is our.” and then took off towards the human forces.
Everything was jumbled after that – memories of hurried packing and everyone running through the forest towards our meeting spot – and the cries of alarm when we ran into another group of red, armored “humans” on horseback who silently mowed through our ranks of women and children without slowing. My mother, Killin went down in the first group, and Natak hurried to get Vilin and Vogol away from the slaughter, but an arrow took Vogol from behind and he died in my arms. Vilin – she was run down by a horseman while Natak watched who then turned and ran me down as well. My last thoughts were that Natak failed my family – the worst thing that could happen to an Ogrun before Natak blacked out.
Natak awoke to the smell of death all around me – one eye caked closed with blood from a scalp wound Natak suffered when ridden down. My family – especially my beloved Vilin – were all dead. My thoughts went to my father and the men who went with him. They were all that remained of my family. Everyone else died trying to flee. Natak gathered up several weapons and foodstuffs – took off back down into the valley to find my father. Every noise was an alarm, every movement was an enemy – Natak was wound up and ready to take on anything Natak came across to make up for failing my family.
Natak slowly made my way down to where our village was – to find smoking ruins and scattered emptiness. Natak immediately followed the trail my father left and ran into an opening in the forest where crows were gathered around several upright figures. Natak noticed how large these figures were and immediately started running towards them. The crows scattered at my movement, but some remained to gorge on what was staked out there.
Ogruns – my father and the others who were with him – were tied to stakes in the ground and gutted without care. Several of the figures were missing heads and my father was missing his left hand and part of his right. Those beautiful hands that were so good in creating things were taken from my father by someone. Right then and there Natak vowed to make the person who did this pay for what they did to my tribe and to my family. Natak screamed into the night for a long time afterwards until he had no more energy to scream.
Night fell and Natak struggled to wake up. Everything was cold and he knew he had go get moving or die himself. A quick wash at the river and he started following the trail of the murderous humans. The easily followed trail lead on for several days that were a blur to Natak. He ate, slept, walked, ate, slept and walked with only one purpose in mind – to avenge his tribe and family.
On the evening of the third day, Natak came across the body of a red armored “human” – one of the group that attacked his village, and soon found several more of these dead – each struck my an arrow or shot and left behind. The tracks of the mechanical creatures left the trail and came back each time – it looked to Natak like someone was picking off the enemy on horseback one-by-one and the “humans” tried to repeatedly engage their enemy, but re-grouped and kept going – like they had to be somewhere fast and this was just an insect bothering them, but one that was easily dismissed.
This scene was repeated several more times the next day, and Natak was impressed with the results. One-by-one, his enemy was being whittled down – and Natak thought that this was a very effective way of doing battle with a much larger enemy force than he had seen before. Natak finally reached the group of red-armored “humans” and their horseback and mechanical troops the next day. It seems the bothersome “insects” had started making themselves a bit too bothersome and this force decided to make them pay right then and there. Natak hid himself and listened as plans were made to surprise the pests the next time they attacked. Natak didn’t understand how this was to be accomplished, but a group of the humans moved off by themselves and started chanting something. A large red cloud started forming above their heads and continued to grow as they chanted, swirling around and around like a large ball of angry, red bees. Natak didn’t like the look of this and crept back and around the army to alert the “pests” about this development, before they got themselves into more trouble than they could handle. Natak felt strangely drawn to this unseen force, and as he continued away from his enemies, he wondered more and more about who these people were.