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Volrok Hinrich – [Renowned]

Player Name: Tyler S. Dubey
Character Name: Volrok “Battle-born” Hinrich
Gender: Semi-Blood Crazed Male
Age: 27 (came over on boat)
Race: Human
Hair: Reddish Brown
Facial Hair: Bright Red
Eyes: Hazel
Occupation: Íoclaochra or “Paid Warrior”
Known Skills: Armor Prof. (0), Imp. Armor Prof. (1), Shield Prof. (2), Shield Expert (8), Poison Resist (4)
Birthplace: Cul’Claimete (Northern Most Lairdship ), Deighcrag
Appearance: Feathered Cap, Partial Plate Armor, Chainmail, and an upturned mustache
Notable Traits: Can be heard from a notable distance due to armor, very flamboyant style, accent is extremely strong.
Deep in the north of the Cul’Claimete of Richtcrag, in the northern most lairdship called Deighcraig, where summer was just a thawing of the ground and the rest of the seasons were snow and ice, was where Volrok was born. Now Volrok’s mother is unknown to him, but what he does know is that she died protecting him from a swarm of Undead when they invaded Deighcraig. This left his father to care and protect him as a mere babe as they fled the massive wave of undeath. At least this is what his Íoclaochra father, Torcoll “The Crimson” Hinrich told him. But that did not matter; what mattered was that he had a father that was willing to raise and teach him the ways of the local Íoclaochra. Now, most Íoclaochra were fairly similar in Cul’Claimete – drunken, battle-proud warriors whose capacity for drink was outmatched only by their love of fighting, but the small group up in Deigcraig were of a slightly different breed. They were some of the most honorable and gentlemanly warriors when not in battle, not like the rest of the Cul’Claimete Íoclaochra. They viewed that a constant stupor of alcohol could dull the senses and weaken them in battle. However, there was another tradition that made the Íoclaochra of Deigcraig different. It was rite of passage, seen by the warriors of Deigcraig as the most common – and some say, honorable – way to join the ranks of the Íoclaochra. Those whom completed this rite are called Battle-born. In the words of Volrok “Being a battle-born is a grand honor. As for what it means, it means to be born again through battle. A baptism of blood if you would.” To become a battle-born, one simply has to go into and stay in a blood rage for an extended period of time.

As for Volrok his rite happened, rather unfortunately, on his second paid engagement as an Íoclaochra. He was to guard a laird’s daughter from brigands, ne’er-do-wells, and others who might wish to exploit her station and threaten her family while she went to the market. While he wasn’t looking, the young lady was pulled into an alleyway and was about to be taken by several hired blades. Thankfully, the young lady could scream quite loudly; loud enough for Volrok to hear over the din of the market place. Disgusted at himself for letting her get pulled into the alley, the sight of the thugs dragging his charge whom he sworn to protect being dragged away, Volrok went into his very first blood rage. Sadly, even though he killed one of the thugs and mortally wounded another, he suffered a heavy blow in return, severely injuring his right knee. To this day, it will occasionally lock up due to the cut ligament. When the young lady spoke of this to her father, the local laird, as well as Torcoll, Volrok was given the the honorary title Battle-born despite his youth and inexperience.

A year after this, Torcoll heard of some promising work over on the new continent of Mardrun. Before Volrok got a say in the matter, his entire Íoclaochra company of twenty strong warriors, went to cross the sea. When they got to Mardrun, the promised wealth failed to appear – instead, they found only chaos. Clashes between the Ulven and the Colonists happened constantly, and the company was given little to no pay for their services at this time, lumped in with the other desperate refugees seeking to flee from the undead and even called scoundrels for adhering to their code of requiring payment for their services. Over time, and after the death of ten of their men, the fragile peace between the Ulven and the Colonists gained traction. This put the company practically out of business – at least, until the threat of the Mordok grew large enough for the Colonists to take notice.

The Mordok, as his father said, were “A blessing from the Battle Father!” This put the company back in business and they were beginning to make a nice profit. Their final job as a company was to be the one that finally found them with enough riches to outfit even the highest of Lairds – escorting a caravan from Starkhaven. Then, it happened: a massive Mordok raid took the caravan by complete surprise, slipping past their posted watch. Volrok was ordered to escort the surviving merchants to the nearest village or outpost for safety. To this day, he still remembers his father’s final words as a Mordok arrow pierced his heart – “COME BEAST! IF I AM TO DIE, THEN LET MY BLADE BE SOAKED WITH MORDOK BLOOD! FOR HONOR AND GLORY! FOR THE BATTLE FATHER!” Now, Volrok did not turn around to aid Torcoll, nor did he go to try and avenge him. No, he was taught better – the contract always came first. He quickly rushed the merchants to Daven’s Reach and then returned to the site of the ambush with a small company of guards. No bodies where ever found.

That event was nine cycles ago, and Volrok has matured into a fine Íoclaochra. He continues on the tradition of the Battle-born name and gives his praise to his chosen god, The Battle Father. Now, here in Mardrun, the Battle Father is practically unheard of – except for those scant few survivors from Cul’Claimete. To explain this rather peculiar religion, one must start at the beginning. According to legend, all the deities wished peace for what they created, but the Battle Father was wise, and knew if there was nothing but peace for these creatures, they would perish if ever faced with true hardship. So he went before the rest of the gods and spoke his wisdom to them. The other gods laughed at what they deemed foolish nonsense, but soon, their people began to perish due to plagues and the violence of wild beasts, so they went to the Battle Father and begged him to save their works. With a single swing of his sword, he cut the veil of peace that was laid over the world. To this day, you can still see the scar in the night sky, the Great Scar, whose glory shines even brighter over Mardrun. From here, it is said that only a select few were given knowledge of his deeds and spoke little of the Battle Father. But eventually, a cleric in Deighcraig came forth and gave this knowledge to the local Íoclaochra after a vision of the Battle Father’s legendary blow to destroy the weakness that had once threatened all creations of the gods. They came to see the Battle Father as the one that gave them the skill and strength to survive in such a war-ravaged land.

Currently, Volrok is one of the very few Íoclaochra known to be left on Mardrun and is still adhering to their ways and traditions. After working for a caravan, The Silver Raven Trade Company, he worked on as a guard for the Outpost for a few days. He enjoyed his work there, getting to fight Mordok and even gaining honor by saving the tavern from a Mordok raid. Sadly his contract is now expired and will most likely wander from location to location looking for work that is worthy of his skill, honor, and price. During his travels, he is alway sure to send out a summons for any remaining Íoclaochra to rally to him. With a war on the horizon, the time for honor, money, and glory will soon be at hand once again. For what better way to make a profit than to hire out an entire company of Íoclaochra for a reasonable price, given the circumstances?

Out of battle, Volrok is a man of Honor and Duty, who will go above and beyond was he was contracted to do. He can have a crude sense of humor and will occasionally knock back a single mead. However, if his honor is ever insulted or questioned, he will become rather enraged and may attempt a brawl. If the insult is serious enough, he may just outright kill that person.

In battle, he tends hoot and yell at the enemy, taunting them to come into his reach. As a trained mercenary, he is willing to work with groups and will gladly take point so that he may attempt to claim glory when the chance is viable. When fighting an opponent, there may be a chance that all logic will be thrown to the wind as he enters a blood rage.

Best of Friends: Battle, Silver, and Mead.
Actual Friends: None at the time.
Ulven: “Interesting folk. I find honor in battle with them. I especially find joy in battle with them for other reasons. Like the mutual dislike for Mordok, yelling and taunting the enemy, and a love for a good hard fight.”
Syndar: “Have yet to be paid well by one. Have yet to battle with one side-by-side. So I find Syndar uninteresting.”
Humans: “Humans are difficult. I trust Ulven more than fellow humans, simply due to the lack of honor most humans have.”

This lone Íoclaochra is looking for others who are of like mind as he, (other Íoclaochra or those that may desire to become Íoclaochra) that may wish to band together and introduce Mardrun of their skills and services . . . for a hefty price, of course.
Constantly speaks of a god by the name of “Battle-Father.
Will fly into a blood rage while in a fight.
Very possible, he could be a bard on the side, as he is often found singing. When confronted on the subject, he replies “If wanted to be bard, I would not hire out my blade.”

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