[hider=Stur Stonetalon]
[center][hider=Image][img]https://imgur.com/J41ytps.png[/img][/hider]
[h2]S T U R[/h2]
[color=8d8d8d][b]”Lay one finger on my lord, and they’ll be digging pieces of you out of the soil of every town in this godsforsaken land.”[/b][/color][/center]

[color=DBA901][sub]B A S I C S[/sub][/color][indent]
[sub][color=8d8d8d]NAME[/color][/sub]
Stur Stonetalon, once celebrated by his people as Stur Sky's Fury

[sub][color=8d8d8d]AGE[/color][/sub]
39

[sub][color=8d8d8d]RACE[/color][/sub]
Human

[sub][color=8d8d8d]CLASS[/color][/sub]
Barbarian

[sub][color=8d8d8d]OCCUPATION[/color][/sub]
Mercenary, Bodyguard

[sub][color=8d8d8d]ORIGINATES FROM[/color][/sub]
Schoed Chal

[sub][color=8d8d8d]IF OUTSIDE TORVELT[/color][/sub]
Schoed Chal is a land far removed from Torvelt: a small border country of high, jagged peaks and sheltered, fertile valleys. The Chalin, the people that inhabit this place, are a loose confederation of clans that mostly keep to themselves.
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[color=DBA901][sub]P H Y S I C A L  A T T R I B U T E S[/sub][/color][indent]
[sub][color=8d8d8d]PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION[/color][/sub]
Stur happen to be one of that particular breed of man that has a knack for stealing away others' fighting spirit simply by standing up. A full 6'4" tall, his powerful frame and thick arms speak to his still considerable strength, even in spite of the growing beer paunch about his middle. His sunken knuckles and oft-broken nose prove his willingness to use it.

His face could easily be described as regal, if not particularly handsome - broad and severe, with sharp cheekbones and a lantern jaw. Crows' feet have just barely begun to crinkle the skin around his eyes, and his thick head of strawberry-blond hair and short, fiery beard are lightly streaked with silver - a sure sign that his best years are probably behind him. His icy blue eyes were once one of his finest assets in negotiating the survival of his people, and now pierce into the souls of dishonest merchants and rival thugs the kingdom over.

His usual garb these days consists of a plain arming jacket sewn with protective iron discs, over which he wears a short green mantle, designed to easily come off if pulled during a fight.

[sub][color=8d8d8d]STRENGTHS[/color][/sub][list]
[*] Endurance: Stur has endured many pains and hardships in his life, both physical and emotional. He is a natural survivor and can take a thorough beating before going down.
[*] Leadership: Stur was born a leader, and has been able to move others to action with his words even at his lowest points.
[*] Strength: No matter the condition of his body, Stur was always blessed with strength.
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[sub][color=8d8d8d]WEAKNESSES[/color][/sub][list]
[*] Age: Hard living and substance abuse have brought the years on perhaps too quickly, and the former chieftain's reflexes aren't as fast as they used to be. Sometimes he can't avoid a blow like he used to, or rotate fast enough to ward off an attack from behind, or just get out of the gods-damned bed in the morning without groaning enough to wake the dead.
[*] Trauma: Past horrors sometimes keep Stur awake at night. He is chronically tired, irritable, and unfocused.
[*] Drunkenness: Stur has come to rely on ale to get him through the day more often than not during his time in Torvelt. It's taken a toll on his stamina and sometimes his... presentability.
[*] Water Aversion: Stur's clan was not among those blessed to live in a valley that contained one of Schoed Chal's deep lochs, and as such he, alongside many of his kinsmen, never learned to swim.
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[color=DBA901][sub]P S Y C H O L O G I C A L  A T T R I B U T E S[/sub][/color][indent]
[sub][color=8d8d8d]PERSONALITY[/color][/sub]
Stur was once a proud and principled man, someone that everyone around him looked up to and turned to for advice. He was regarded as wise, and strong, and brave. However, the years and the many humiliations have stripped him of most of his old regal self. He drinks, and gambles, and makes crude, sarcastic jokes just like the rest of the rabble around him, and puts on an air of jovial, uncaring attitude at the rigors of his job. However, deep inside, he still burns with hatred over the wrongs done to him, and still vows nightly to exact a blood price on those responsible.

[sub][color=8d8d8d]SEXUALITY[/color][/sub]
Bisexual

[sub][color=8d8d8d]FEARS[/color][/sub]
For the most part, Stur fears loss, and as a result avoids attachment to any one person or thing. He lives modestly and avoids close relationships, knowing too well the pain of having something dear ripped from your grasp. On a more instinctual level, he has carried with him a lifelong fear of deep water which was only compounded by torture at the hands of Ephreian prison wardens.

[sub][color=8d8d8d]GOALS[/color][/sub]
Stur’s primary goal in the present is to simply survive. His far-reaching plans include finding his family, if they’re still alive, and liberating his homeland.
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[color=DBA901][sub]S K I L L S[/sub][/color][indent]
[sub][color=8d8d8d]POLEARMS[/color][/sub]
Few can wield a spear, halberd, or greataxe with as much skill and ferocity as Stur. He's trained with such weapons for his entire life.

[sub][color=8d8d8d]HORSEBACK RIDING[/color][/sub]
Though he prefers fighting on foot, Stur is familiar enough with horses to not fall off when he needs to.

[sub][color=8d8d8d]FORAGING AND SURVIVAL[/color][/sub]
The Chalin have a long history of hunting and living off the land to survive. Stur is no exception, being able to hunt, forage, and set up decent shelter in many uninhabited areas. (At least, those similar enough to his homelands)
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[color=DBA901][sub]G E A R[/sub][/color][indent]
[sub][color=8d8d8d]ITEMS ON PERSON[/color][/sub][list]
[*] Travel Pack: Stur’s personal belongings are few, and his sturdy pack is never far away, should he need to leave in a hurry. Contains a bedroll, a firesteel, a few torches, and a small waterskin.
[*] Carved Talisman: The silver brooch of Stur’s chieftainship was stolen when he was captured. He’s since carved a rough approximation of the trinket from an ox horn. Often times, it serves as motivation to keep moving forward.
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[sub][color=8d8d8d]WEAPONS[/color][/sub][list]
[*] Longaxe: this axe has been Stur's constant companion ever since he came to Torvelt. Its long ebony-wood shaft is marked by numerous scrapes and scars, and its engraved crescent-moon axehead is honed to a wicked edge and counterbalanced by a sharp piercing spike on the opposite side of the shaft.
[*] Dirk: this simple straight-bladed knife has been with Stur for most of his life, and traditionally goes in his boot or up his sleeve for use in dire situations. It can also double as a thrown weapon in a pinch.
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[color=DBA901][sub]H I S T O R Y[/sub][/color][indent]
Stur was born the heir to the Chieftainship of the Clan of Stonetalon. Principal in martial might among the hill clans of Schoed Chal, the Stonetalons were known for their unparalleled ambush tactics - hiding atop sheer cliff faces and raining down longbow fire amongst attackers, then plunging down a hidden slope to sow chaos among the survivors before disappearing into the undergrowth. Stur was raised from birth to be a warrior, and for his part learned everything he could about both warfare and rule from his father and his mentors. By the time he was sixteen years old, he was leading groups of outriders into the flanks of enemy war parties, and helping to train levies from outlying villages.

Coming into adulthood, Stur had to grapple with the sudden death of his father and his own ascension as Chieftain of Stonetalon. Not to be brought low by the sudden increase in responsibility, however, Stur was borne forward and upward by a grand vision for the future: all the clans of Schoed Chal, united as one sovereign state. Petty infighting amongst the chieftains would be brought to an end, and he could usher in a new age of prosperity for his people. He set out to make his vision a reality immediately. It took time, lives, and years, but by the age of 26 Stur had managed to unite all the clans of his land in a tentative alliance under his own banner. This meteoric rise ensured his place as one of the greatest chieftains the Stonetalons had ever seen. His people sang his praises nightly and referred to him as Stur Sky's Fury for his direction of his clan’s deadly longbowmen, raining death on opposing armies from the clouds.

Stur - and Schoed Chal as a whole - could not afford to enjoy their good fortune, however. The neighboring human kingdom of Ephreia was quick to take notice of the increase in power of their neighbors, who before were regarded as nothing more than wild, disorganized bandit rabble. Viewing the newly rallied clans as an imminent threat to his regional power, King Ephreia issued an ultimatum to Stur - become a vassal state to Ephreia, bound by Ephreian law and subject to Ephreian taxes, or face open war and annexation. Stur responded by launching an offensive of his own into the Ephreian countryside.

The various clans of the Chalin were still recovering from their own internal warring, but their morale was high and Stur had them pressing hard on the Ephreian troops. Stur, however, had become drunk on the adoration of his troops, and overconfident in his own martial prowess. In a pivotal battle where the Ephreian king himself took the field, Stur extended his personal guard too far into the enemy infantry, and was quickly cut off from his own troops by a devastating cavalry charge from the Ephreians.

Alone, with most of his men dead, Stur was forced to surrender. The events of the next few months passed him by with little awareness as he was beaten mercilessly and then promptly swept away to a dungeon somewhere far away from his homeland. With no leader to unify them, the Chalin army was swiftly driven out of Ephreia’s borders, taking heavy losses along the way. Once back in their own land, the clans once again fell apart into separate warring factions, with no strong unifying hand to guide them. Then, with no proper way to defend against an attack, they fell against the sudden Ephreian counterattack. Armored knights poured into Schoed Chal’s highlands and looted and burned as they went, carrying off Chalin people as slaves and taking any valuables they found.

Once the subjugation of his people was complete, Stur was released from captivity, but his servitude was far from over. His remaining family - mother, wife, and young children - were held hostage and under threat of death as he was forged into a direct enforcer of the Ephreian king’s will, traveling everywhere to secretly crush insurrection and silence those that spread damaging rumors about the royal family. Over time, he became numb to the consequences of his actions, losing his sense of morality. It was only when he slipped up and was caught attempting to assassinate a prominent noble that the final betrayal that could be done to him came to pass. The king was not officially connected to Stur’s activities, and so, as to not damage his own image among his subjects, publicly condemned the former chieftain. As a small act of mercy, he was not immediately executed, but rather exiled forever to Torvelt. There, it was assumed he would die an unceremonious death, with no lovers to cry at his passing and no hero’s farewell to guide him into the ground.

Stur knew he could not return to his homeland, even though he badly wanted to. There were spies likely watching his every move. His family, if they were even still alive, would be killed the moment he was sighted in either Ephreia or Schoed Chal. His people would likely be massacred. And so, with bitter hatred burning in his heart, he set to work at the only thing he now knew: extorting the weak, and breaking down the strong.

To the great surprise of the Ephreians that kept an occasional eye on him, Stur took very well to Torvelt’s particular inclinations. He rose to prominence as one of the better bodyguards and mercenaries for hire in the kingdom, and was able to reliably back up his reputation with steel. Famously, he never spoke a word about his past and went to great pains to squash any rumors that happened to float up. Every day since, he breaks arms and legs, and every night he buries himself in wine and ale. And come the fulfillment of every job, he puts a portion of his coin away, hoping, praying for a chance to raise an army and take back his home.
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