Galtholnicus Levithicus the Dai Sensei of the Miyama Ryu

Role

Chapter 6

Honor, Duty, and Respect. These are the things that drive the inhabitants of the small
village that has hurled Galtholnicus into the adventuring world. Each boy born to these
people is evaluated at birth. Those who are deemed to be potentially weak are taken from
the womb of their mothers and have their skulls split open by way of large rock. A hard
people, bred for hard times. Though small in size, they have managed to retain their
sovereignty over any attempted occupying force, largely because the loss of life on the
side of the would-be-conquerors is deemed not worth the effort.

The infant sons who are deemed worthy of life are not necessarily the lucky ones.
From the age of four, they are trained with weapons and shields, to fight. The
yearly festival pits two five-year-olds, chosen by lots, in a fight to the death.
At the age of eight, the boys are taken from their homes completely, to be educated
in the arts of war. They are beaten daily, starved, and forced to compete with each
other for food. As always, only the strong survive.

The bond between those who survive this hellish upbringing is, as one might imagine,
is very strong. When those of this village spoke of Honor, and Respect, it meant
between each other. Not to the enemy. No mercy, no retreat, and win, using the
best method to do so.

Role

Chapter 5

Facing such an upbringing, obviously, creates more than strong warriors. It creates
a very structured and orderly society. One where weakness is shunned, and where
perfection of form and function are respected and praised.
Many of the lands would consider a society like this to be evil. Those who know
better use a different term: necessary.

Galtholnicus was born into a relatively median family in the village. Not of the ruling
class, nor of the lower class, he was destined for a "normal" life, by the standards
of his village. But when he was five, he was one of the two chosen at random to
square off in mortal combat with another. The other, by cruel twist of fate, or by
ironic joke of the gods, was the favored son of the current ruler. The outcome is
obvious, for Galtholnicus still lives. The consequences were harsh.

Moreso than any other of his village, Galtholnicus was made to endure hardship from that
day forward. The ruler, without a word, made it evident that he was exceedingly upset.
Extra punishments were doled out for little or no reasons. Many of the others shunned him, though
fear stayed their hand. Through it all, Galtholnicus remembered the foundation of his society.
Honor. Duty. Respect. As such, by the fact that he survived, Galtholnicus became one of the
sharpest spears ever shaped in his village.

Role

Chapter 4

Galtholnicus has no qualms about breaking the laws of the Blood Tribunal. At this point he
honors no laws of the lands, save when it suits him best. No, his belief in Order is a more
specific thing - you do not grow strong in a society that promotes the death of its children
in order to have them grow stronger if you do not know how to follow the chain of command, do
as you are told, and learn quickly.

Order, then, is more about doing things the proper way, as your elders have done before you, as
their elders did, and so on, for time immemorial.

Role

Chapter 3

Galtholnicus kept his Honor during the rest of his upbringing, and it was the Honor
of his fellow warriors that kept him alive. Had they decided to treat him as a true enemy,
surrounding him as the mountains surrounded his village, he would not have stood a chance.
But though they did attempt retribution against him at every turn, they still, strange as it
may seem, treated him as a brother - to be tried, tested, and slain if possible, but not treated
as a *true* enemy.

Honor is best reserved for those you fight alongside, those you trust. Those who are true enemies
neither deserve it, nor would recognize it if it bit them on the ass. Crush your enemies in any way
you can, while guarding the flank of those who fight beside you. That is the way of Galtholnicus' tribe.
That is the way of Galtholnicus.

Role

Chapter 2

There is more to the upbringing of Taltholnicus that is of some interest, but we will
come back to that later. It is time to talk about Magic, and the Battle Ragers.
Galtholnicus did not enter the Academy in Galadon expecting to become an applicant to the
potions and pills and the like. But he didn't hate those who used it, either. That changed, one
day.
Galtholnicus was stalking his prey, as usual, waiting for the right time to strike. He seized his
opportunity, striking the dark-elf with mithril in both hands, swiftly and skillfully. The dark-elf
turned an ran, but did not run well. The chase was quick, but frustrating. Fleeing instantly at
every turn, the magician seemed to be a mental midget. "Why is he not escaping via his magic?"
Galtholnicus pondered, as he chased again and again.
And then it happened. The mage turned to fight, finally. He slowed down Galtholnicus' movements.
He softened his skin. And then he disrupted his flesh. All the while parrying the mithril aimed
at his tender dark-elven flesh as if he were a skilled master of the staff, instead of a pathetic magician.

Galtholnicus was defeated, utterly. Humiliated, his anger toward the mage filled his blood to
a berserker rage. Feeling completely unworthy and unfit to be a fighter from his village, he
nearly took his own life. At great strength of will, he regained his composure. But the hatred
remained. How could he, a true master of the blades, be defeated so casually? More importantly,
how might he find vengeance and satisfaction?

Role

Chapter 1

Back to the upbringing of Galtholnicus. The ruler whose son Galtholnicus had slain began to grow
frustrated. Galtholnicus was not yet dead, and it had been 12 years. Why had the other whelps who
subjected to daily punishment for each day that Galtholnicus lived not doing their job? The ruler
knew his reign was near an end, and he had sired no other son. His line would soon be
extinguished. It galled him. That this peasant boy had taken everything from him! He would
have his vengeance, even if it required him to hire mercenaries from the outside world to
exact it.

Drunken, brawling ruffians, the mercenaries came barging into the training center, demanding that
Galtholnicus be brought before them, that they might end his life and get on with their debauchery.
But they, and the ruler, had underestimated the Honor that the training instills. The other boys -
young men, really, at this point - brought forth Galtholnicus, but stood at his side. The young men
fought well, but the mercenaries had vastly superior numbers. His comrades dying around him,
surrounded by several mercenaries, Galtholnicus' eyes began to cloud over in a reddish haze of anger
and hatred. No longer consciously striking and blocking, he lashed out in a blind rage. When at last he
came to his senses, he stood in the middle of a heap of mercenary corpses, nearly dead himself. Around
him, a small number of his fellow villagers survived, badly wounded.

Realizing that the others would be marked for death by the ruler, Galtholnicus knew what must be done.
He left that hour, once he was sufficiently healed. And headed straight for the home of the ruler.

He sat, eating grapes(!) while waiting for news of the slaughter at the training center. He got
the news, all right. In the form of a knife, with a grape stuck on it, rammed down his throat.

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