Character background - Khale

[Hala]

I'm thinking about starting an alt and thought I'd toss out a character background I did for another guild.  Still working on a storyline for Hala   I haven't yet reserved the name, so it might have to change.

Name: Khale
Age: 30ish
Class: Bear Shaman
Gender: Male
Occupation: Seer, craftsman, warrior
Height / Weight: 5'10" 225lbs
God of Worship: Animal Spirits, Crom
Marital Status: Single


Character Background:

The child that would be Khale lay among the furs when the attack came. The Pict raid was swift and deadly, in minutes the small village was in ruins and the tribesmen were killing those of no use and making slaves of the rest. The leather flap was pushed aside as a bent creature entered the hut of his parents, a feral scream from his mother, then a dull thud as a club crushed her skull, in her last moments she reached out for her child, blood and tears rolling down her cheeks, the creature lifted the club a second time and brought it down to finish her.

The child watched this, but did not comprehend, his small fat fingers grasping instinctively for the cooling body of the woman. The creature saw movement in the furs, and moved to finish the slaughter. He bent and lifted the babe by the feet, readying himself to smash its skull upon the hard dirt floor. For a moment he stopped, whether the spirits smiled at the child or cursed the creature is not known, but in the moment it took for the Pict Shaman to judge if the babe had any worth its fat fingers found the bear tooth necklace at his throat and held tight to it. It was a sign, the boy would live.

The years past swiftly for Khale. Once the child could walk on his own he did, following the tribe as they moved. The Shaman left his survival to the spirits as often as not, there was no mother to carry him when his legs grew weary, he had to keep up or die, and so he kept up, or followed the trail when he fell behind. Soon he was a boy, and could run like the wind. He would move with the scouts of the tribe, helping to find fat villagers in sleeping huts and taking what they failed to defend.

Then the day came, the spirits had begun speaking to Khale, teaching him the powers of augury first. He read chits of wood from various trees, drawing them from a leather pouch he had crafted from deer flesh. On the day of the tribes' death he saw their fate, and he saw how he could avoid it, but not only that how he could gain from it.

He waited for the proper moment and betrayed the Shaman, the great club he had helped Khale craft did its work, a single blow and it was done. The rest of the battle was swift and soon the moon showed down on a field of blood. As he stepped over the creature he leaned down and snapped away the bear tooth necklace.

He made for the wilderness, to listen to the spirits and grow in strength.

*****years later*******

Five days....

It had been five days since the spirits showed him his fate, and he had run from it. Under the moon he had spread out his bag, tossing the wood upon it.

Yew – It is time for new skills to be learnt

Pine – The end of secrets

Blackthorn – Accept what is to come

As he looked down upon the final symbol he heard the creak of leather armor in the trees around him, they were stealthy for men that had not travelled in the forests for years, had not run with bear and deer, had not become more animal then man.

Khale swept the strewn pieces of wood into the bag and ran. He leapt across ravines that horses would have balked at, crossing though streams, moving in trees, doing everything he knew to avoid human contact. The spirits had spoken, but Khale would not listen, he imagined he had some choice.

Five days of running, sleeping in moments of quiet, but the hunters were everywhere. He rested, lashing himself to the thick oak branch, two hunters met below him and the smaller one began to speak.

They say he is a seer.

Bah, superstition and trickery, nothing more.

He has slipped the noose more then once.

Like any beast we take alive, we just have to tire him; he is craftier then most we hunt, but will be run to ground.

I heard the captain and the slaver speaking at the fire last night, the rumor mongers claim that he had the talent, but was still young enough to be trained, and strong enough to survive the training.

Well, whatever he is, I'll be happy when...

A ripe acorn chose that moment to fall; bouncing almost comically off the helm of one of the two hunters. The larger of the two began to look up when a giant club split his helm and then his skull, blood and gore spraying his companion. The other instinctively raised his spear and stabbed, catching Khale in the hip. The club savagely stuck out again driving ribs though lungs and heart.

He leapt over the body as it crumpled, dodging among the trees and brush, he past another large oak and a noose slipped round his neck tightening instantly. His momentum pulled him forward and he felt the rope give. He drove his powerful legs in, trying to drag his unseen captor along. What he thought was a sign of weakness was actually skill, as he lifted his leg the rope slipped under it and then was pulled tight. He was forced into a forward fall, his neck yanked down as the rope was tightened and pulled between his legs.

A howl of rage died, the rope now tight enough to stop his breath, it had looped around his waist, he heard yelled commands in a language he didn't understand and suddenly two more ropes were around his arms. He was on his back and looked to the sky, a great Blackthorn reached high above him. The spirits told him again as the blackness closed about him Accept what is to come