Post by Norton0013 on Dec 14, 2016 23:59:41 GMT -5
Norton was born a bastard son to a traveling Mercenary and his mother, Nina Warde a local bar maid.
Norton grew up strong and healthy quickly finding work on a local fishing boat in his home town of Marin. In his spare time he liked to read and daydream about adventuring in strange far off places. When he was old enough Norton joined the local town guard thinking that it would carry him to his dreams of adventure; but after several years of bad pay and no action or glory Norton went back to working on the boats.
Now a mature man, Norton had accepted his lot in life, working on the ships was hard, but rewarding and he adapted an appreciation for the work by looking at it as though he was performing a vital service of keeping the people of Marin fed. He and his friend Barish worked hard in the day and drank away the nights in the tavern, it wasn’t a bad life.
When the rumors started Norton was wise enough to start carrying his service sword again. Stories of mysterious misshapen people who smelled of death moving in unnatural, jerky manners, robbing graves and abducting people in the night; these rumors caused serious turmoil in the region. The local lord Beric increased the mounted patrols; and the name Magla began to be spoken in hushed whispers. It was said that she was a powerful Necromancer who had taken up residence in the great swamp to the north.
As unsettling as all of this was, it was happening to the villages up the coast, troubles were reported locally, but most people really did not believe that “Magla” was to blame.
This went on for years, to the point where it almost became normal, then one day there was word, a throng of undead had slaughtered an entire village to the north. Beric’s soldiers were seen feverishly scouting the north road and rangers were overheard saying that the horde was headed south towards Marin!
The Lord’s soldiers marched down to an area known as the bramble a twisted batch of thorny vines and swampland that had a single narrow road going through it… it was there that they made their stand. Norton went to watch the battle; he hid himself in a thicket on a nearby hill. He watched as the soldiers stood bravely in their shiny mail waiting for the undead hoard to meet them.
Soon enough the army of the undead approached… even from this distance Norton could see that the undead were grey and dank, Norton thought he could almost see the stench rising from the horde. The army of the dead moved forward in jerky staggering movements their grey skin, death masks and rusted armor a striking contrast to the ranks of Beric’s soldiers who grimly held their ground in their gleaming armor.
The undead kept coming… more and more flowed into sight. They came over a hill in the distance an endless swarm of walking corpses. They moved into the lowlands and headed for the bramble pass.
Norton watched as the Armies met. Swords shined in the sun as they were put to use, being raised and brought down hard on the enemy, the undead were falling in droves… but there were so many! The first rank of Beric’s men began to fatigue and the second took their place in an impressive maneuver. The battle went on like this for some time and Norton began to believe that Beric and his soldiers might actually win the day, but then it started happening, one soldier fell, then another and another. Fatigue had finally taken its toll; the soldiers simply could not continue the fight any longer. The undead continued to tirelessly lurch forward while soldier after soldier fell. The Soldier’s line began to falter…
Norton had seen enough… he fled. He ran back to Marin to warn the villagers what was coming.
It took Norton some time to return to his village on foot and when he did the sky was darkening as night approached. As Norton approached the gates of Marin he saw that one of Beric’s soldiers had arrived just ahead of him on horseback. The man was bloody and muddy from fighting, but Norton could see his tunic which had a rampant golden griffon. He did not realize it in the moment, but this was the first time he saw the Griffon. The soldier was yelling to the handful of town guards that the undead were coming. The guard scattered in fear. Norton realized that they were headed to their respective homes to warn their families and Norton suddenly knew that he needed to do the same. His mother would be working at the tavern… Norton ran through the recently abandoned gate, closing it behind him, he continued on, headed for the tavern. “If we are quick” he thought “we might be able to get some people out on the fishing boats…”
The gate was not one made for any level of serious defense and when Norton was in the guard there was a joke about it. The joke was simply that the gate was only there to keep out the honest people. The joke was now falling flat as Norton ran; he was fast approaching the center of town, nearing the tavern when he heard the first thud at the gate. The undead moved much faster than he thought possible, time was short, that gate would not hold long.
Norton arrived in the town square as the soldier dismounted and turned to face the undead that were presently tearing down the gate. The soldier in the griffon tunic limped to the center of the square and stood grim and determined, looking noble and stoic despite his bloodied and dirty condition. Seeing this, the town men funneled out of the tavern and other shops and homes, they were arming themselves with whatever was at hand. Norton saw one of his friends, Barish, exit the tavern with a table leg made into a makeshift club. The people began to form a battle line on both sides of the soldier across the square, a line against the onslaught that was about to arrive. Norton thinking that the whole town was doomed decided it was better to go down fighting Norton drew his sword and joined the line standing with his friend.
The men did not have to wait long, the undead burst through the gate and staggered towards the battle line. The soldier in the griffon tunic yelled “Kill the undead… Kill them all!
Now Norton could see the undead up close, aside from being in various stages of decay, each wore a mask with rune writing on it. They staggered/hopped forward like puppets on strings.
A second later the ranks met and the fighting began. Single, basic undead are not invincible and the line was actually holding in the beginning, but the fighters quickly saw that the undead were not limiting themselves to the battle line, but were breaking into dwellings and attacking the women and children. The line broke, not because of fatigue or being overwhelmed, but because the men broke away to save their loved ones. When the men fled the line, the undead pushed through and the fight immediately became a mass melee. The men that broke away were the first that were cut down, Norton and Barish moved through the fighting towards the tavern.
When they finally made it to the tavern they discovered that the tavern door had been forced open and the occupants were fighting for their lives. Norton told Barish to help him block the door. They closed the door and pushed a table up against it. Then they turned to join the fight. Norton rushed in and stabbed an undead in the back with his sword. The undead was not much more than a skeleton with dried up skin stretched across it. It wore rusty mail armor and carried a short mace. The stab was not very effective and the skeleton turned towards Norton, grinning its emaciated smile from behind its mask. The skeleton came at him in jerky marionette like movements that were much faster than Norton expected. Norton back pedaled and parried, somehow keeping from being clobbered with that rusty mace. During its attack the skeleton overextended and Norton counter attacked with a strong shoulder to hip diagonal slash. The skeleton staggered back from the cut and Norton slashed again, this time straight across the torso. The Skeleton fell.
Suddenly out of nowhere another undead was on him, Norton again found himself on the defensive. This undead was more whole, a grey skinned soldier in tattered clothing and armor Norton was not sure, but it appeared that this one’s mask was merging with its face? It moved much like the skeleton in chaotic spastic jerks. But this adaptation was noticeably slower and stronger than the skeleton. This new undead swung an axe and Norton was again backpedaling dodging more than making any kind of successful defense when Barish side swiped the creature hammering it with his table leg club. The undead turned on the new threat and Barish was now on the defensive trying to parry its axe with his table leg. Norton regained his footing and cut the undead from behind in the same fashion as he did the skeleton. This undead also fell. Norton and Barish nodded at each other in mutual respect and relief when a third undead jammed a sword into Barish’s back. In a blind rage Norton hurdled past his friend, bringing his sword down hard on the undead’s collar, nearly splitting it in two. He turned back and his friend Barish was dead. The undead in the tavern were all destroyed, but Norton was the only person left alive.
Norton found his mother; she was dead, having several bloody wounds on her arms, chest and back. Norton cradled her she was once a strong attractive and vibrant woman now old and frail. Norton knew she did not have many years left to her, but she did not deserve to die like this… a hatred began to fill his soul Norton wanted something now more than anything he had ever wanted… He wanted to kill undead!
Norton was forced out of grief induced rage when calls for help broke through the noise of battle. Norton went to a window and saw a band of survivors fighting off the undead in the doorway of the bakers shop.
Norton looked around and saw far less undead than he anticipated. There were droves of them lying motionless on the ground, along with countless villagers, but there were far fewer still fighting than he expected. Norton unblocked the door and attacked the group of undead in front of the bakery from behind. Two were down before they took notice of him and when they turned to face him they were attacked from behind by the people in the bakery.
The fighting went on like this all night and when it was finally over there were less than 30 survivors. It was decided then that since their old lives were gone because of the undead menace, that they would dedicate their lives to stopping such a thing from ever happening again. Norton took the oath with the rest. They called themselves the Order of the Griffon in honor of the soldier that stood with them in their darkest hour. After burying their dead they scavenged valuables and equipment from the soldiers at the bramble and the village, they then struck out in small groups in search of lore, allies and wealth to help them in their cause.
Since that day Norton has made his way north with his companion Micah Iceheart, seeking to destroy undead wherever they might turn up. Of course the villain Magla is still at large… and she needs to be killed…
Norton grew up strong and healthy quickly finding work on a local fishing boat in his home town of Marin. In his spare time he liked to read and daydream about adventuring in strange far off places. When he was old enough Norton joined the local town guard thinking that it would carry him to his dreams of adventure; but after several years of bad pay and no action or glory Norton went back to working on the boats.
Now a mature man, Norton had accepted his lot in life, working on the ships was hard, but rewarding and he adapted an appreciation for the work by looking at it as though he was performing a vital service of keeping the people of Marin fed. He and his friend Barish worked hard in the day and drank away the nights in the tavern, it wasn’t a bad life.
When the rumors started Norton was wise enough to start carrying his service sword again. Stories of mysterious misshapen people who smelled of death moving in unnatural, jerky manners, robbing graves and abducting people in the night; these rumors caused serious turmoil in the region. The local lord Beric increased the mounted patrols; and the name Magla began to be spoken in hushed whispers. It was said that she was a powerful Necromancer who had taken up residence in the great swamp to the north.
As unsettling as all of this was, it was happening to the villages up the coast, troubles were reported locally, but most people really did not believe that “Magla” was to blame.
This went on for years, to the point where it almost became normal, then one day there was word, a throng of undead had slaughtered an entire village to the north. Beric’s soldiers were seen feverishly scouting the north road and rangers were overheard saying that the horde was headed south towards Marin!
The Lord’s soldiers marched down to an area known as the bramble a twisted batch of thorny vines and swampland that had a single narrow road going through it… it was there that they made their stand. Norton went to watch the battle; he hid himself in a thicket on a nearby hill. He watched as the soldiers stood bravely in their shiny mail waiting for the undead hoard to meet them.
Soon enough the army of the undead approached… even from this distance Norton could see that the undead were grey and dank, Norton thought he could almost see the stench rising from the horde. The army of the dead moved forward in jerky staggering movements their grey skin, death masks and rusted armor a striking contrast to the ranks of Beric’s soldiers who grimly held their ground in their gleaming armor.
The undead kept coming… more and more flowed into sight. They came over a hill in the distance an endless swarm of walking corpses. They moved into the lowlands and headed for the bramble pass.
Norton watched as the Armies met. Swords shined in the sun as they were put to use, being raised and brought down hard on the enemy, the undead were falling in droves… but there were so many! The first rank of Beric’s men began to fatigue and the second took their place in an impressive maneuver. The battle went on like this for some time and Norton began to believe that Beric and his soldiers might actually win the day, but then it started happening, one soldier fell, then another and another. Fatigue had finally taken its toll; the soldiers simply could not continue the fight any longer. The undead continued to tirelessly lurch forward while soldier after soldier fell. The Soldier’s line began to falter…
Norton had seen enough… he fled. He ran back to Marin to warn the villagers what was coming.
It took Norton some time to return to his village on foot and when he did the sky was darkening as night approached. As Norton approached the gates of Marin he saw that one of Beric’s soldiers had arrived just ahead of him on horseback. The man was bloody and muddy from fighting, but Norton could see his tunic which had a rampant golden griffon. He did not realize it in the moment, but this was the first time he saw the Griffon. The soldier was yelling to the handful of town guards that the undead were coming. The guard scattered in fear. Norton realized that they were headed to their respective homes to warn their families and Norton suddenly knew that he needed to do the same. His mother would be working at the tavern… Norton ran through the recently abandoned gate, closing it behind him, he continued on, headed for the tavern. “If we are quick” he thought “we might be able to get some people out on the fishing boats…”
The gate was not one made for any level of serious defense and when Norton was in the guard there was a joke about it. The joke was simply that the gate was only there to keep out the honest people. The joke was now falling flat as Norton ran; he was fast approaching the center of town, nearing the tavern when he heard the first thud at the gate. The undead moved much faster than he thought possible, time was short, that gate would not hold long.
Norton arrived in the town square as the soldier dismounted and turned to face the undead that were presently tearing down the gate. The soldier in the griffon tunic limped to the center of the square and stood grim and determined, looking noble and stoic despite his bloodied and dirty condition. Seeing this, the town men funneled out of the tavern and other shops and homes, they were arming themselves with whatever was at hand. Norton saw one of his friends, Barish, exit the tavern with a table leg made into a makeshift club. The people began to form a battle line on both sides of the soldier across the square, a line against the onslaught that was about to arrive. Norton thinking that the whole town was doomed decided it was better to go down fighting Norton drew his sword and joined the line standing with his friend.
The men did not have to wait long, the undead burst through the gate and staggered towards the battle line. The soldier in the griffon tunic yelled “Kill the undead… Kill them all!
Now Norton could see the undead up close, aside from being in various stages of decay, each wore a mask with rune writing on it. They staggered/hopped forward like puppets on strings.
A second later the ranks met and the fighting began. Single, basic undead are not invincible and the line was actually holding in the beginning, but the fighters quickly saw that the undead were not limiting themselves to the battle line, but were breaking into dwellings and attacking the women and children. The line broke, not because of fatigue or being overwhelmed, but because the men broke away to save their loved ones. When the men fled the line, the undead pushed through and the fight immediately became a mass melee. The men that broke away were the first that were cut down, Norton and Barish moved through the fighting towards the tavern.
When they finally made it to the tavern they discovered that the tavern door had been forced open and the occupants were fighting for their lives. Norton told Barish to help him block the door. They closed the door and pushed a table up against it. Then they turned to join the fight. Norton rushed in and stabbed an undead in the back with his sword. The undead was not much more than a skeleton with dried up skin stretched across it. It wore rusty mail armor and carried a short mace. The stab was not very effective and the skeleton turned towards Norton, grinning its emaciated smile from behind its mask. The skeleton came at him in jerky marionette like movements that were much faster than Norton expected. Norton back pedaled and parried, somehow keeping from being clobbered with that rusty mace. During its attack the skeleton overextended and Norton counter attacked with a strong shoulder to hip diagonal slash. The skeleton staggered back from the cut and Norton slashed again, this time straight across the torso. The Skeleton fell.
Suddenly out of nowhere another undead was on him, Norton again found himself on the defensive. This undead was more whole, a grey skinned soldier in tattered clothing and armor Norton was not sure, but it appeared that this one’s mask was merging with its face? It moved much like the skeleton in chaotic spastic jerks. But this adaptation was noticeably slower and stronger than the skeleton. This new undead swung an axe and Norton was again backpedaling dodging more than making any kind of successful defense when Barish side swiped the creature hammering it with his table leg club. The undead turned on the new threat and Barish was now on the defensive trying to parry its axe with his table leg. Norton regained his footing and cut the undead from behind in the same fashion as he did the skeleton. This undead also fell. Norton and Barish nodded at each other in mutual respect and relief when a third undead jammed a sword into Barish’s back. In a blind rage Norton hurdled past his friend, bringing his sword down hard on the undead’s collar, nearly splitting it in two. He turned back and his friend Barish was dead. The undead in the tavern were all destroyed, but Norton was the only person left alive.
Norton found his mother; she was dead, having several bloody wounds on her arms, chest and back. Norton cradled her she was once a strong attractive and vibrant woman now old and frail. Norton knew she did not have many years left to her, but she did not deserve to die like this… a hatred began to fill his soul Norton wanted something now more than anything he had ever wanted… He wanted to kill undead!
Norton was forced out of grief induced rage when calls for help broke through the noise of battle. Norton went to a window and saw a band of survivors fighting off the undead in the doorway of the bakers shop.
Norton looked around and saw far less undead than he anticipated. There were droves of them lying motionless on the ground, along with countless villagers, but there were far fewer still fighting than he expected. Norton unblocked the door and attacked the group of undead in front of the bakery from behind. Two were down before they took notice of him and when they turned to face him they were attacked from behind by the people in the bakery.
The fighting went on like this all night and when it was finally over there were less than 30 survivors. It was decided then that since their old lives were gone because of the undead menace, that they would dedicate their lives to stopping such a thing from ever happening again. Norton took the oath with the rest. They called themselves the Order of the Griffon in honor of the soldier that stood with them in their darkest hour. After burying their dead they scavenged valuables and equipment from the soldiers at the bramble and the village, they then struck out in small groups in search of lore, allies and wealth to help them in their cause.
Since that day Norton has made his way north with his companion Micah Iceheart, seeking to destroy undead wherever they might turn up. Of course the villain Magla is still at large… and she needs to be killed…