Sprobisk LoudFoot the Novice of Owaza

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Role

Chapter 5

Life is very different for Sprobisk now, for better and for worse. Maturity comes,
sometimes even if you do everything you can to fight it! Several big things in
his life have changed and become different than he ever imagined. Not least is
how as a child he thought gods were distant, powerful, inscrutable beings that
lived only in their own places, and beyond mortal ken. Not so! He has now met
and spoken at length with Ergush, Sprobisk's chosen god, and though it definitely
still fills him with wonder, it's made him realize the day to day power and
presence of deities. There's no doubting Ergush's power and wisdom, but it's not
so remote and amorphous, anymore. It's both a great challenge to keep up with
him and earn his pride, and a great joy to share Ergush's exuberance and strong
sense of well-being. Sprobisk relishes his successes and continues to ponder
the intricacies of his faith. (The intricacies he keeps to himself, and does
not even include here, to preserve the experience of others who may one day
discover this...)

His hatred of mages, and in particular necromancers and antipaladins, remains,
and if anything is stronger. They more than any others warp and twist and foul
the natural order of life and death, and Sprobisk counts it a great failing that
the two he's fought so far have escaped near death, one repeatedly. But he will
continue, and will be able to usher their souls to, he hopes, new found wisdom.
He is now a long-time resident of the village, and he has seen it grow. As with
all families there are some frictions and disagreements, but there is never any
doubt, at least for Sprobisk, that these are in fact his family members. He does
still think of his old family, every once in a while, but rarely, and with just
the haze of memory. His time in the life of a battlerager, and his travels and
combats, have hardened his skin and strengthened his soul, such that while he still
has great respect for his elders and "father figures", it is not the veneration
it once was. He has confidence now, though not so much as to be overweening.

Personally, he remains relatively quick to be annoyed, but just as quick to forget
about it five seconds later. He thinks he may take up a bit of drinking, but for
now he's been a bit goal oriented, especially with the recent advent of new wars
as announced by the commander. His exuberance and enthusiasm, often at show when
speaking to all in the village, remains. Sometimes though his frustration also
shows. And to be honest, he's not sure he would change that, as it's always honest,
and scarcely sustained beyond the moment. He will look to marry his component
parts and make the whole Sprobisk better, every day.

Role

Chapter 4

the way of the process of life and death. Necromancers and the undead are abominations.
Other mages, like transmuters, likewise insert themselves unnaturally into the life
cycle. And who knows what the next mage may discover? Some new way to frustrate the
cycle? They must be stopped. And his guild teaching will help him bring as many of
them back into the cycle as possible... through death.


A few general items of note. As may be clear from the above, it's likely
Sprobisk has a lot of daddy issues. There is a likelihood he will be
heavily influenced by authority figures, be they cabal leaders, gods, guildmasters
or similar. He also is prone to great anger and rage as he has a lot of his
pent up childhood frustration. But he inevitably calms down and returns to the
genial and somewhat happy-go-lucky guy he usually is. Obviously his enemies
are a trigger, but also insults he takes personally. His pride affects him, again
because he's making up for his childhood failure. He needs to do well.
It's possible this will lead him to some poorly chosen words, or worse, some poorly
chosen fights. But that's life and growth - hopefully, on the growth part at least.

Role

Chapter 3

It makes perfect sense for Sprobisk. Life is only life because it comes to an end.
The body houses the spirit and both grow, but the great gift of mortality is that the
life ends, allowing the spirit to move to the next destination, wherever or whatever
that may be. Nothing is ever truly immortal or eternal. Stars die. Gods die. In the
end, everything dies. And that is good. But the timing and manner of a death, that
is a spiritual event, too. Life needs death, as death needs life. And an assassin
can usher a spirit into its new existence, or bring a life new meaning. It is, in
some ways, an avocation as much as a vocation. Sprobisk took to it like a fish in
water. Hiding had many similarities to camouflage, and he seemed better at it than
before. Learning the ways to strike and kill took focus, practice, and fitness, and
his dedication never wavered. It was, in fact, a joyful time for him. He had found
his way in the world, and he was pleased.

Not long into his new studies though, he was sent on a training mission, to learn to
be stealthy and hide in an unknown place, with new terrain for him. An eastern city,
known as Hamsah Mu'tazz. He and two other students arrived there and quickly began
practicing their movements and scouting, hidden by wonders, surrounded by creatures
with humps and people wearing all sorts of odd garb. It was hard to keep hidden and
silent when he was constantly surprised and amazed by the variety of people.

On the third day however, he and one of his mates were near the south end of the city,
watching a caravan go by and wondering if they could insinuate themselves without
detection. Before they could move however, a horrifying sight approached from the
north. It looked like a skeleton, with some wraps, but it was walking. Talking. And
it was surrounded by shambling things, things that obviously had been constructed
or somehow made by people, but were not people. And then, when it was very close, it
stopped. It spoke words in a language Sprobisk did not recognize, and moved its bony
hands, and WHAM! A cloud giant bearing an axe appeared, right out of no where! And
then before the giant could even speak a single word, this creature spoke another spell,
for a spell it had been, and the giant was dead! Sprobisk could see the giant's life
leech out of him and somehow flow *into* the dead thing! It was amazing and terrible.

Some time later, in the local guild, Sprobisk approached the master and asked of the
event. It was then that he learned of the undead. Of the ways of necromancy. It was
at that moment that he learned of magic and how it worked. Or more important how it
twisted life. These things kept spirits trapped. These mages frustrated the natural
process of life and death. They had the gall to snub the universe. And it was that
second when Sprobisk dedicated himself to ending magic. It is magic that stands in

Role

Chapter 2

As you'd expect, Sprobisk's family and friends, and especially his father, spoke the
words and made the gestures of comfort and encouragement. You'll be great next time,
they said. Everyone does that sometimes! All of it with that unimaginably horrible
look of sympathy and reduced expectations. Cheering on the kid who everyone knows
is just a bit slower in the mind, and complimenting when he properly does something
simple. And that continued. Not just the day, or the next, or the week. It became
the standard. How everyone thought of Sprobisk. And most importantly, how Erlotsk
thought of him. And soon enough, Sprobisk couldn't take it, and simply left without
a word.

Leaving home when young is not rare. But it is nontheless unique for each individual.
For Sprobisk, he had no plan other than to go as far from home as possible, and to as
different a place as possible. Small wilderness community? Then go to Galadon, the
biggest city he's ever even heard of. Upon arrival, he found a small inn and traded
labor for lodgings. Naive he may have been, but he was not a fool. He knew he'd
need to find a way to sustain himself. Washing dishes and cleaning rooms provides a
lot of time for thinking.

Who am I, he thought? His whole life he'd been raised with the belief of the natural
ways, of birth, growth, death, rebirth. A process of life that his - well now his
former - mates would tend and observe and protect. His ability to do it the way the
others do is insufficient, but the belief and the veneration of that process remains.
If he ever is going to prove himself to be better than the slow child all the others,
especially his father thinks he is, he needs to find a vocation he can master, and
which serves similar purposes, serves the spirit of what his community believes and
lives. In time, as sometimes happens, it came to him that what some might consider
the opposite, was in fact an integral part. Death.

That epiphany led him down a dark alley, more than once. Weeks, even, each night
going and looking and finding nothing. Until one day, after showing his perseverence,
a woman simply stood next to him where a moment ago no one had stood. It was like
how his father could simply be there, and then be gone, without you even noticing.
But of course, there were no trees or scrub or anything here. Just stone and wood
and metal all making shadows. She whispered it was enough, she was tired of seeing
him roam, so if he thought he was good enough, and if he was ready to be rejected
and shown just how useless he is, she would take him to what she called a dojo. Gladly
he went, though he really didn't have any idea how painful the next months and years
would be, and in short order he was a novice of the assassins' guild.

Role

Chapter 1

Is there anything worse than being a disappointment to your parents? It's that
look where they aren't angry at you, instead they just realized that you aren't
quite as smart/strong/fast/whatever it is as they thought you were. It's that
patronizing look that says of course they still love you but they'll never think
of you the same way, never have just quite so much expectation from you, and you
will always be a source of sadness for them. It's crushing. Spirit crushing.
An ending.

For some.

For a rare few others, it can be a beginning. Sprobisk is such a one. Erlotsk,
Sprob's father, was a well respected member of the ranger's guild. Not a guild
master, but an elder of high standing to be sure. He had trained scores of young
men and women working their way through the guild, teaching them woodcraft,
hunting, survival in different terrains, all the things a ranger needs to know,
and to be proud. When he had his own son, Erlotsk was as happy as anyone could
be, with the prospect of training his own flesh and blood in the craft he loves
so much.

And Sprobisk did well. He learned to read signs for animals and races, to see
the weather changes, to feel at home in the wild. But always there was some
mistake, some stumble. Erlotsk chalked it up to nerves, youth, fear of parental
wrath. He continued the lessons for several years, always patient, always
presuming Sprobisk would grow fully into the role and join him as a master ranger.
And Sprobisk worked hard to do so. Wanted nothing more. His life was all planned
out, and it was going to be perfect.

When the time came for his entrance to the final circle, he was up before the dawn,
unable to sleep. Jittery with restless energy, he joined his father and the other
high ranking rangers of the area and he stood as they gave him a few last words of
encouragement. When the time came, he set off, his task to find a visiting master
ranger from a different guild. He must find him, and do so without alerting the
camouflaged ranger that he'd been found. Sprobisk set off, roaming quietly as his
father had taught him. Soon he found the tiny but telltale signs. A long chase it
was, taking hours, but sure enough, shortly before sunset, Sprobisk crept up to
where he knew his mark hid. Step by slow step he moved, closer and closer. Closer.
Closer. Step. Step.

CRUNCH!!

Sprobisk stepped on a twig. A tiny, tiny twig. Barely visible. And loud as thunder.
Sprobisk froze, futilely praying the sound went unheard. But of course it had been.
Turning his head he saw not only the visiting ranger, but also Erlotsk, who had,
unknown to Sprobisk, silently followed, planning to be there at the big moment. But
now, Erlotsk's face as he looked at Sprobisk was a sight Sprobisk will never forget.
The exact instant when Sprobisk knew that he had forever lost his father's pride. It
was beyond devastating.

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