Britain At War
Nuallán of Anderidh
A shamed Anderidh Warrior, he is on a quest for Redemption.
Race: Anderidh (Hybrid Celt-Svaernig from Anderida Forest
Frenzied fghters make fast and furious melee attacks, sacrifcing fnesse for raw speed. This allows them to make an extra Fighting attack per round at a –2 penalty to all Fighting
rolls. This attack must be taken at the same time as another Fighting attack though it may target any two foes adjacent to the hero (Wild Cards roll two Fighting dice and one Wild Die).
The –2 penalty is subtracted from all attacks. A character armed with two weapons still only makes one extra attack.
In a society made up of only a few types of people, your hero isn’t one of them. An Indian in a Western town, an alien in a sci-f game of human marines, or a half-orc in a party of
elves, dwarves, and humans are all examples of outsiders. Locals are likely to raise prices on the Outsider, ignore pleas or help, and generally treat him as if he’s of a lower class than the rest of their society. In addition to the roleplaying effects above, your hero’s
Charisma suffers a –2 modifer among all but his own people.
Code of Honour:
Carrying Svaernig blood comes with consequences. You are bound by the following code, which you are unable to break:
- You are bound by your word. This means bound. If you say you are going to do something, it is irrevocably so. No weaseling out of any commitment. Generally you are careful with what you promise for this reason.
- You may not enter a fixed structure without permission. Tents/nomadic structures are fine.
- You are unable to lie when in the Otherworld. Lying is okay in the ‘real’ world, but seen as a sign of weakness among your people.
Starts with a d6 in Strength
Arcane Background [Magic]
I murdered both a bunch of monks and the priest who baptised me, plus some paladins in the forest.
I want revenge! My honour must be satisfied! I will generally seek revenge. (Legally?! What does “Legally” even mean?
My shame for being baptised needing redemption, I made a vow to the Elder Niggle in order to wash the taint from my soul.
Agility d6 (1 point [from hindrances])
Smarts d8 (2 points spent)
Spirit d6 (1 point spent)
Strength d10 (2 point spent)
Fighting d10 (6 points spent)
Spellcasting d8 (3 points spent)
Survival d6 (2 points spent)
Notice d6 (2 points spent)
Intimidation d6 (2 points spent)
Charisma -2 (Unless among own people)
Long sword (str (d8) + d8 = 2d8 damage)
W: 8 300$
Leather armor (+1 armor, except to head)
W: 15 50$
Medium Shield (+1 parry, +2 armor against ranged attacks)
W: 12 50$
400$ spent, 100$ left.
Weight: 35/40. (Max weight is strengh x 5)
Nuallán of Anderidh
I was a Great man. Promising. My honour was impeccable, as that of my family. The Druid approved of me, imparting his wisdom and power. However, my life was marked by three mistakes, shaping my destiny.
My first mistake I remember most clearly. One accursed day on patrol, I came across an outsider, a young boy from a nearby monastery looking for herbs who had gotten lost.
“Thank the Lord! I have found a fellow soul. Good Sir, I am lost in this Forest and was hoping if you could help me find my Monastery.”
The Law, the Code, the Clan dictated that this man should die. I agreed. He was an outsider, a member of a world that had sought to destroy us, our people. He deserved to die, to rot and be eaten by the ants, more worthy as food for the insects than in his present form. But he must have been a warlock, cast a spell on me. His eyes, so naive and trusting, moved me. I replied:
This was the first mistake.
The Paladins mounted an expedition to avenge the monks. I had not been thorough enough, it seems. Or perhaps we were a bogeyman, the perfect scapegoat. When they arrived, the same warlock cast his spell it seems, because I was again moved. To see these misguided men, their faith, their belief, it disgusted me and fascinated me. So it was that after beheading one of them I hesitated, allowing another to strike me, injuring me and escape.
This was the second mistake.
I talked to the druid, and he agreed it was an evil spirit haunting me and weakening my resolve. He sent me to the Otherworld, to our Svaernig kin, to purify me. There I learnt their ways, their Magicks. I became a fearsome warrior even in their eyes, but it did little to quell the doubts in my heart.
Back again, amongst my own people, one evil night I partook in too much Otherworld wine. I awoke far from home, in a Church, deep in conversation with a priest. He stood above me, talking words in a language I could not understand, and I stood neckdeep in water. He had baptised me.
Pain shook my body and rage filled my mind. I wrought a blade from this rage and killed the priest mid-sentence and then fled, flying away to the Forest that was my home, the Forest that I was now unworthy to inhabit.
That was the third mistake, the most terrible of all.