Helix Nebula
Three fries short of a happy meal: WHACKO!!
Posting Color: None
Name: Laurolf Fangür
Race: Dwarf
Sex: Male
Age: 120
Hair: None
Eyes: Blue
Height: 4'7 (140 cm)
Weight: 120 lb (55 kg)
Languages: Dwarven, Common, Elven (basic), Drakkaric (basic)
Alignment: Lawful Good
Vigor: 60
Arcana: 0
Strength: 60
Melee Warfare: 60
Ranged Warfare: 15
Speed: 30 ft
The Spectral Council has bestowed upon Laurolf the unique power to inspire courage in the hearts of allies and strike fear in the hearts of enemies. He can motivate people to fight even against the most overwhelming odds; to find hope even when it seems that there is no hope. Meanwhile, weak-willed or undetermined foes are likely to flee from his very presence.
Additionally, Laurolf has spent over a century honing his skill at Runecrafting, and is able to make use of blacksmith tools and stations to inscribe items with runes of potent sorcery.
Learned Runes:
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RIGHT WEAPON
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LEFT WEAPON
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ADDITIONAL WEAPON
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AMMUNITION
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SHORT WEAPONS
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HEAD GEAR
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UPPER GEAR
• Fine Dwarven Outfit
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LOWER GEAR
• Fine Dwarven Outfit
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FOOT GEAR
• Fine Dwarven Boots
RIGHT HAND
• Fangür Family Ring
• Runemaster of Goliath Signet Ring
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LEFT HAND
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Laurolf is currently not in possession of his satchel.
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• 12 gp
• 1 sp
• 3 cp
Back home, Laurolf was described as calm, quiet and wise. Of course, a calm and quiet dwarf is still loud enough for outsiders' standards... He does usually think before he acts, however, and is not in the least hotheaded unless really angered. His other most significant trait is loyalty - as to his country, so to his friends.
Laurolf is the firstborn child of Runemaster Angus Fangür, one of the six great Runemasters of the dwarven kingdom.
The Fangür family expanded later on with three more sons; Raum, Oll, and Rolf, as well as with a daughter, Emmi, but the greatest responsibility and expectations were always going to be Laurolf's. Because of this, he spent a great deal of his childhood training and studying in anticipation of someday replacing his father as the Runemaster of Goliath. But the truth was that the firstborn son couldn't have cared less. He didn't want to become a Runemaster. 'Raum be lovin' to fight! Make him yer bloody heir,' he'd say to his father.
One day, when Laurolf was only 22, a heated argument took place between him and his father. It ended with the young dwarf deciding to leave the city, and he would have; he'd already packed a bag and made it to the outer gates, when he was stopped by the sound of alarm bells. Darkreach was under attack.
At the time, there was only one possible direction for an attack to come against the dwarven capital: the mines and tunnels underneath it. The threat of goblins, trolls, and worse had been near constant for decades, with smaller skirmishes being fought every now and then. A city-wide alarm, however, had only ever sounded once in the history of Darkreach. It made Laurolf spin on his heel and rush back immediately.
Goblins, kobolds, cave trolls - a vast host of foul things emerged from the depths, overwhelming the dwarven patrols who were dreadfully unprepared for an attack of such magnitude. It was good that any warning came at all. By the time Laurolf made it back, the fighting had already spilled into the streets of the mining district. The enemy seemed to be everywhere; initial attempts of containment had clearly failed. Laurolf's father was there as well, looking regal in his Runemaster armour, facing off against the biggest troll Laurolf had ever seen or heard about. They must have been fighting for a while, for both were wounded - yet that's where the fight ended. Laurolf arrived just in time to watch his father thrown on the ground and crushed at the troll's feet.
Something broke in Laurolf at that moment. His last words to his father were spoken in anger, reckless - and now he would never get to take them back. Never get to apologize. Never speak to his father again, at all. Rage of the purest kind swelled in his heart. He rushed in, grabbing a weapon from somewhere, and threw himself wildly at the cave troll, much to the surprise of both the troll himself and the other dwarves that were fighting it. He fought like a savage thing, continuing to massacre the monster even well after it was dead.
The day was ultimately won, though the price was high. Dozens of dwarves were dead. Hundreds were wounded. And Angus Fangür, the Runemaster of Goliath, was no more. A week later, following the burial ceremony, Laurolf stepped forth to take his father's place.
Nearly a hundred years passed.
The Great War came. Laurolf, an experienced fighter and general by then, led the dwarven army to fight against the demonic invaders. They fought and bled on the front lines, but it was a blow from behind that defeated them. The current king, Ragnar Stenvakt VI, summoned all of his Runemasters and high nobility for a great council - only the council turned out to be a betrayal. The king had made a pact with the Sorceress, it turned out, and Knalga was to abandon Asgard to side with Ilhirel instead. Some were already in favor of the king's decision. Others elected to support it on the spot. Many rebelled, however, with Laurolf loudest among them. A short but violent civil war ensued, but the insurgency was doomed from the start. Those loyal to Laurolf's cause were soon either dead, surrendered, or forced into hiding.
Laurolf himself survived, accompanied by a few close friends and his brother Raum. As it quickly became clear that not even the settlements on the fringes of Knalga were safe for them, they fled farther to the southwest, ending up in Melwyn Forest. There they remained for a long time, licking their wounds and growing in number as their group was joined by more loyalist dwarves on the run from Ilhirel and the corrupt King Ragnar.
Perhaps it was that Laurolf's camp became too large to remain unnoticed. Perhaps it was just bad luck. But eventually they were discovered and their base was burned to the ground. Most of Laurolf's people were killed in the battle. Even Laurolf himself felt ready to die, finding himself once again in a similar situation as on the day when he'd lost his father. It was his brother Raum who pulled him away, pleading with him to escape that they might live to fight another day. Escape they did, but only to become separated in the chaos that was that night.
Laurolf has searched for his brother ever since, driven by both hope and a desire for revenge.
Unlike many other Dwarves, Laurolf actually has more muscle than fat, and is in very good shape. He often hides his bald head with the blue-grey hood of his cloak and wears custom-made armour that he's forged himself from various materials. As for weapons, he swears he can get anything done with his large war axe and one smaller hatchet.
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