Played by Jeremy O’Driscoll
My name is Bero. I was raised by my father, Brom Smith. My mother, Eva Smith, died while having me. Fortunately, my father was a skilled smith and able to afford to raise me by himself. I originally hail from Vandregon. I was born in a time of tumult and unsurety. My father had been lucky enough to learn his craft while the world was mostly at peace, but as he grew into his own, he focused more and more on military matters. Armies were needed to fight off the Undead and later also the Penitent, not to mention, to fuel and put down uprisings. So instead of making things to help improve our village, by the time he had me, he was focusing solely on making war materiel.
My apprenticeship to my father was marked by the constant need for more. More armor. More weapons. More tools. Vandregon was at war and losing at that. Many a time an army would come through and “recruit” a number healthy, able, farmers of military age. I say “recruit”, but that was just a pleasant word to hide the fact that soldiers were necessary. We didn’t have enough of them. They were pressed into service.
Few of my friends “recruited” in this manner would ever return to our village. And how could we expect them to? Take a man with no training and without proper equipment and throw them into the front? Without proper equipment, even training can only do so much.
This put extra fire into my heart for my craft. The constant need for more was an emotional drain, but seeing my friends go into the fight ill equipped solidified in my mind that what I was doing was important. What I was doing could save lives.
I was pressed into service myself a few times, but my skills as an armor and weapon smith were too valuable. I became a camp follower. My primary duty was to help with repairs on armor and weapons as well as aid in the entrenchment of defensive positions. I was lucky though. I was granted leave to return home when it wasn’t the season for war. Unless something happened of course that required my services again, I would be allowed to return home in the colder months and see and help my father.
After I was “recruited”, my father spent less and less money on daily living. Saving as much as he could. I kept telling him he should live a comfortable but modest life as begets his position as a tradesman, but he had a bad feeling.
Two years passed, and eventually this becomes the new normal. The war constantly going on, everyone tightening their belts, and me making repairs and more war materiel. We kept losing ground. Fear and unrest was growing among everyone. Things couldn’t keep going the way they were. Luckily our village was close to the coast, but even that was threatened by the overwhelming hoard.
Out of seemingly nowhere, one day I got a message from our lord. I was to report to a harbor far back from the front as my services are needed there. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but my thoughts on this order have been…long since then.
I made my way to the harbor as fast as my feet and wagon can take me. When I reported in, I am ordered to board a vessel bound for a new land. Apparently, I had been selected to aid in the expansion of the colonies in the New World. I knew I had done well working for the cause, but didn’t expect to be singled out like this.
Unexpectedly, my father was actually there to see me off. He didn’t offer much in way of explanation as to why he was actually there, but we made the most of our time together as it would probably be quite a while before I saw him again.
Our vessel managed to take us to the New World. As my days pass setting up a new shop and working on more war materiel for the new uneasiness and unrest, I came to realize that my father probably bribed his way to get me here. Saving up all that coin for several years to get me appointed to this position. It wasn’t too much longer before our colony heard of the final collapse of Vandregon. I went every day to look for my father on the final boats. Hoping he’d gotten himself out as well. I put out word for him, but never saw or heard from him again.
With the fall of Vandregon, my official service came to an end. I still have my shop though and do mostly the same things. This continent needs the same services. Although so many things have changed, much remains the same.
I began to lose hope.Why would the gods allow this to be the case? We got pushed out of our lands by dark magics? Now fighting continues with less resources and experience? This sucks.
I continue to press on, doing what must be done, but where is a plan that will actually change things? Wars, battles, unrest, all these things keep happening and will continue to happen with how things are currently going. There must be another way.
Maybe more and better equipment will help the world. At the rate things are going though, it doesn’t look like it. It feels like even if I were to try harder: produce more, upgrade, repair, it’s a useless endeavor if we’re forsaken and meant to fail.