Fjord Hilms Hersir
Rjurik Warpriest of Cuiraecen
Name: Fjord Hilms Hersir
Titles: Warpriest-General of the Storm Order
Race: Rjurik Male
Eyes/Skin: Blue, white
Hair: Red color with a rough, but kempt beard
Levels: Barbarian 1, Scion of Anduiras 2, Cleric 4, Warpriest 3
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Bloodline: Anduiras, greater
Abilities: Str 18, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 16, Cha 10, Bld 28.
Fortitude: + 16 (+2+3+4+2+2+1)
Reflex: + 3 (+0+0+1+0+1)
Willpower: + 9 (+0+0+4+0+3)
Base Attack Bonus: + 9
Hit Points: 72 + (+14)
- Minor – Heigthened Ability Strength
- Major – Bloodtrait ????
- Combat casting
- Master administrator
- Practised spellcaster cleric (Current Cleric caster lvl 9)
- Master Diplomat
- Grtr. Blooded scion
- Improved critical, longsword
- Barbarian Rage
- Fast Movement
- Scion class: Bonus HP
- Scion class: Major+Great Bloodline
- Domains: War, Strength, Glory (Warpriest)
- Channel energy +4d6 3/day (Warpriest turning stacks with cleric)
- Good aura
- Rally +3 (Warpriest)
- Inflame +2 (Warpriest)
- Mass Cure Light Wounds 1/day (Warpriest)
- administrate 6
- diplomacy 10
- sense motive 2??
- know relig 2
- lead 8
- warcraft 5?
- spellcraft 5?
- ride 1
- linguistics 1 (Anuirean)
- Monastery – Tuor’s Hold
- Hospital – Tuor’s Hold
- Monastery under construction – Bindier
- Storm Order 58th; ‘The Wild Cards’ – Elite Infantry, Beserkers – Currently Stationed in Bindier
- Storm Order 1st division – Anduiran Pikeman – Currently Stationed in Bindier
- Storm Order 2nd division – Anduiran Pikeman – Currently Stationed in Bindier
- Storm Order3rd division – Anduiran Archers – Currently Stationed in Bindier
Fjord Hilms Hersir is the second born son of Slátr Hilms Hersir, Jarl of Hollenvik in Stjordvik (Rjurik Highlands). As a Jarl, the Rjurik equivalent of a high noble, Slátr was a man with many responsibilities that trained Fjord, his elder sister and younger brother in the ways of Rjurik nobility. Although Fjord was never an eager learner like his sister, he showed all the more prowess during hunts, and later in the training for battle. By his fifteenth birthday few grown men could stand against him in single combat. Even fewer dared cross him lest they would unleash Fjord’s by now infamous rage. Among those few were his father, whom sought a ruler in his son, not just an able combatant. Their relationship turned all the more sour, and Fjord began to despise the way his father acted. Even more so he began to despise the arch druid that frequently commanded his father in his rule. Throughout his life, Fjord had never emphasized with the traditional druidic learning’s of his people. He rebelled against them as hard as he avoided the tedious hours of study. He became to see that the druidic culture of his people were holding them back, stopping them from vanquishing the enemies of the Rjurik. Years upon years Orogs and other vile creatures would come up from the even colder north and assault the northern Stjordvik villages. Many times, Fjord would assemble a band of warriors to fend them off. Yet the druids fervently opposed all attempts to improve the situation. They would not allow the cutting of wood for building walls, or even to provide a clean line of sight to warn villages of incoming danger. They’d refuse to use their powers to help defend the villages, claiming to be outsiders to ‘the conflict of men’. Yet they intervened when men wanted to defend themselves!
Fjord could not convince his father of his point of view. He even went to visit the other Jarls, their heirs and officers to make his case: to no use. As he neared his seventeenth year, long since an adult by Rjurik standards, Fjord began to increasingly defy his fathers wishes. He would be gone on weeks at end with several other young and trusted warriors. Gone do defend Stjordvik against its enemies; even it meant cutting forests to do so. At the third such incident, Slátr Hilms Hersir forbid his son to leave. He was embarrassed among the nobles by his sons unruly behavior, as well as in discontent among the druids. Jarl Slátr quickly went on to confine his son in the winter halls and meanwhile find a suitable wife for his son to marry. The thought was that Fjord would settle down and stop his rebellious behavior.
So little did he know his own son. Enraged by his fathers decision, and the druidic meddling in their household Fjord made his escape. Stories claim he rushed out of his room wearing nothing but his loincloth, proceeded to knock twenty-five of his fathers men unconscious and escape the Rjurik winters halls during the peak of the season’s cold. Despite the harsh weather and constant snowfall, Slátr send out several rescue parties to find his hot-headed son. None could find him and he was presumed dead.
Come spring the now downtrodden Jarl Slátr was surprised to hear stories from the northern parts of the country that claimed that an unknown young Jarl’s son had done the impossible. Apparently the man had walked into one of the villages and had begun to organize the people for defense against the orog attacks they knew would come in spring. He had been so successful that he defended not just the village, but the entire province against attacks using just militia. Furthermore he had chased many orogs to their lairs and slain vile shamans of The Cold Rider. With renewed hope that his son was still alive, Jarl Hilms Hersir send out his lieutenant with a number of trusted men to find out if the unknown Jarl’s son was in fact his son Fjord. He felt that their problems had spun out of control and his family might yet be mended. Alas, before they arrived Fjord was already gone. The local townspeople did in fact describe the unknown Jarl’s son as Fjord. They had loved him for his glorious acts in the defense of their homes. Yet several weeks before, he had gotten into a fight with a local druidic circle leader about the cutting of wood for the creation of spears. Although the local stories differed, many say that Fjord had flown into one of his legendary rage attacks when the druid provoked him with a push. The result had been that the entire druidic circle had only survived due to the healing magic of the one druid that had arrived on the scene some time later. Although many would speak on his behest should there be a trial for the assault, Fjord had left. He took with him a near hundred young men and lads without wives, who had aided him during his attacks on the Orogs.
The warband traveled east and south first, leaving the land of Stjordvik to enter Dhoesone via small mountain passes. There, they worked as mercenaries for hire and the occasional Orog hunting party just to help locals. Due to a period of tension between Stjordvik and Dhoesone, and the constant traveling south Fjord’s father was unable to contact his son.
In the south of Dhoesone, Fjord met a cleric of Cuiraécen by the most silly of coincidences, which is a whole new story unto itself. In short, Fjord saw Eric Northman slay a dozen giants in the middle of the night with nothing but his divine powers, all just to defend a single young boy. Rushing to his aid, Fjord’s warband defeated the remaining giants. In the following days the warband and priest traveled together towards Nolien, the capital. During the day’s march and evening’s rest Fjord and many of his men became enamored at the words of the Stormlord’s priest. He spoke not of silly teachings about nature, but instead believed that battle for good was a life well spent. Simply put, Eric Northman was the first man not only to state what the warband had been doing, but give their actions meaning. He spoke of a God, powerful and strong, that desired nothing less from His followers. They knew then, their fight for good was nothing short of Divine.
Over the next two years Fjord studied the teachings of the God of Battle under Eric in the church of Cuiraécen in Nolien. Some of the men of his warband settled down, others returned to Stjordvik, but even more stayed and learned as well. Fjord had now become a cleric of Cuiraécen. The years in the temple had done much to teach him the wisdom of life and the ways of a warpriest. Eric had also given him much control over the everyday workings of the temples. Although he disfavored the administrative work, Fjord grudgingly admitted that he had a superb knack for it. The men respected him, and in turn Fjord did as best he could for them. Finally Eric proclaimed Fjord a full fledged cleric of Cuiraécen and a large celebration (with much alcohol) was had by all. There the old priest made Fjord promise that he would go on to contact the great generals of the world and learn under them. For he saw that Nolien was no place for the young Jarl’s son to stay. He would need to go forth and become an even greater man: he would go south. So preparations were made for Fjord’s warband to leave. Some locals had joined and their numbers had risen to a full hundred fifty men with horse. No longer a small mercenary band. Two days before their departure, terror struck the capital city Nolien. Strange bat-like creatures the size of men had raided the homes of several important regents in the midst of night. With alarm bells ringing, fires blazing in the midst of night, men rushed across the streets in search of the vile creatures. Fjord found his tutor’s bloody body ripped open on his bed. Vowing revenge he quickly tracked down the creatures. First by eye reports, later with his rangers, they followed the creatures tracks to their lair.
There he encountered his first Answeghlien, a nightmarish creature, half bat half man. With its devilish powers and wickedly powerful attacks the thing slaughtered a full dozen men before Fjord alone challenged it. Stories now say Fjord fought the demon for over an hour, battling it with sword in hand and the Battle God’s prayer on lip. Finally, it was slaughtered and Fjord had his revenge. His many scars still attest to the difficulty of that battle. The Jarl’s son returned to the capital with the slain body of his enemy and met all who cheered with stone cold silence and grim stare. There would be more of these creatures and Fjord Hilms Hersir would kill them all. His God demanded nothing less.
In the following years Fjord and his warband traveled south towards Tuornen. He kept his promise and studied under several of the greatest military leaders Southern Anuire had produced. Including General Dean Isilviere, patriarch of the Isilviere family. They taught him not just war, but also diplomacy. He came to believe one was but an extension of the other. Both are battles of wit, strategy and courage. Yet during all his travels he never did stop looking for the vile Answeghlien. In time he met others who (secretly) shared his sentiment. And so begins a new story…