Crusader of Pelor
|Proficnsy (Bstd Swd)||=||Knowledge (History)||+5|
|Wpn Fcs (Bstd Swd)||=||Ride||+3|
|(Trait) Reckless||=||Martial Lore||+4|
|Master Work Bastard Sword||+10||1d10+5||19+||0|
|Master Work Long Spear||+9||1d8+7||x3||0|
|Iron Guard Glare||1|
|Leading The Attack||1|
Taenus is 6’2”, 210 pounds, 30 years old, and he keeps both his blond hair and beard neatly trimmed. He wears a wooden holy symbol that took a beating but survived through the war. It one time snagged on a pine tree just as an arrow flew by his nose, and it caught it’s fair share of arrows more directly through the years. His eyes are Green and clear. He stands tall and proud, for he represents Pelor and must be stalwart in his causes. Some see it as arrogance, but in fact he is a servant, a protector. While some look down on others for acting certain ways, Taenus knows that a person’s worth is not judged by mere lifestyle differences, and it’s counter-productive to look down upon those you serve. His standards for himself are high, and he knows that few will actually attain them. Possibly not even he will. Constant vigilance and honor are required.
Taenus grew up in the small town of Winterborrow, in the frozen north. His father was a military veteran who stressed self discipline, honor, and honesty. Due to his father’s military experience, Taenus was trained in all manner of arms and armor. His father had plans on Taenus taking his old man’s place in the future.
Taenus’ mother was a clerk at a temple of Pelor in her youth. More important to the local people, she was somehow related to the founder of the town, and she always wore fine clothes. However, Taenus’s interest peaked when she talked religion and rightiousness. Though his father wanted him to join the army, his mother’s frequent religious insight lead Taenus to curiosity about religion, and Pelor in particular. His father was displeased with his choice to join the church, but he was forced to show respect for the decision due to his respect for his wife and her faith.
Taenus’ life at the church was as enlightening as he had hoped. He discovered the path of the Crusader, allowing him to combine his religion and sword arm into one device. He could please both his father and mother, and he was very pleased with his own growth, as well. The Sun, the bringer of light and life as well as destroyer of threats to it, is more important in the frozen north than in other places. He would be as one of it’s rays, fighting to protect and helping those who need it.
A few years after becoming a fully fledged Crusader in the ranks of the Pelorian church, his mother grew ill. The town being the size it was, there were no clerics around to help her. Before he had the chance to request aid from his church, he was drafted into a war. He knew not why he was fighting, he did not know why the men on the other side should die. But it was his duty and so he accepted it, albeit grudgingly. He took comfort in knowing he would be able to protect the men of his own unit, many of whom were from his home town, whom he had grown up with. The reason for the war always seemed to elude him when he had the opportunity to ask his questions, though.
Near the end of the war, his home town was attacked. It proved little strategic value, but the damage was done. It lay in ruin at the end of the war. The war ending, he was released from service, and he immediately returned to the home he loved. The sight helped him justify fighting. Little of value was left, but he resolved to stay and rebuild. Others, some also returning from the war, had the same idea.
After the work began, he learned his mother had died a few weeks before the attack. His younger brother couldn’t be found, and his father had died defending against the attack. Confused about the reason for the fighting, saddened by the loss of his family and church, he couldn’t think of any reason to stay except sentiment and his feeling of duty to rebuild. That’s what he did. He worked as a guardsman and, inspired by his mother’s fancy wardrobe, learned to make clothes for the townsfolk. When not busy, he helped at the local tavern, which also functioned as a shelter. It usually ended at getting drunk with the dwarves who run the place, though.
Then, almost a decade later, a bizarre, possibly supernatural storm hit his village, destroying crops and threatening his home with famine. He cannot allow innocents to die needlessly. This is a non-ambiguous fight, finally, and Taenus will win it.