D&D Characters
Character Name : Ronalf Keel-Breaker Height : 5"7
Character Race : Half elf Background : Pirate
Alignment : CG Class : Warlock (Great Old One)
The Inn was quiet in the early hours of the morning and the room held a quiet ambience occasionly broking by the crackling or shifting of wood in the fire that made the place barely more hospitable and welcoming than the frigid air outside. Ranolf sat as close to the fire as was safely comfortable and stared at the untouched mug of ale in front of him, losing himself in memories. The few remaining customers shot him furtive glances as though anticipating trouble, Ranolf had been based in Easthaven nearly 2 years to the day and the locals were still wary of his presence.
The locals rarely commented on his precence publicly, there were more important things to worry about, however the occasional traveller were often curious. Strangers would watch the grizzled man with suspicion and a cautiousness that was well earned. His salt and pepper flecked hair was largely unkempt though often drawn back into a leather corded ponytail and the long scar over his right eye was far too clean to have been made by any beast or accident. From the open collar of his shirt were scars on his neck of an undefinable origin though clearly uniform in shape, similar in formation to a gallows mark yet they could not have been made by any rope they knew off. The eyes were usually drawn to his slightly pointed ears and the elegant frame of his face that marked him as a half-elf after they had taken in the scar. the scar was not the only thing that would identify Ronalf as he always carried a sturdy and curiously carved belaying pin seemingly carved from whalebone tucked into his belt and a scrap of sail cloth bearing a strange symbol that he kept rolled upa dn wore like a necklace.
Rumour had it that he was the very Ronalf Keelbreaker that had robbed and pillaged the sword coast for the last 5 decades or so before mysteriously vanishing with his ship The Krakens Mercy at the height of his fame and success. The stories had largely become exaggerated over time but there was no doubt that he was a particularly violent and merciless pirate captain. The stories told that survivors of his raids were tied or chained to the decks before scuttling the ship. it was also said that if a ship surrendered he would lash them to barrels and flotsam and leave them to the mercy of the see. Regardless he earned his epithet by ensuring no ship he sought would every reach dry land. The Ronalf of Easthaven was fairly solitary but cheerful and a good hand on the fishing boats and always free to lend a hand when someone was in a tight spot, nothing like the dread pirate in the stories. Yet it could not be denied he had a certain presence in the few times he had barked commands on the fishing boats in a tight spot and he had a certain hand when handling rope, sail and tiller. The physical description matched almost perfectly as well and one travelling bard even had a rough likeness that could be his twin. The question that played at the locals mind on occasion was why he was in ice-dale? if he was indeed Ronalf Keel-breaker then he should have ammassed a great fortune and living in comfort, not shivering each day in a small hut on the river side.
Ronalf was oblivious to the speculation and glances of his cohabitants and dreamed an old life of salt spray, wind and canvas. He had been young when The Krakens Mercy anchored of his small fishing cove. he remembered little other than being grabbed by rough hands and carried off to the ship as his village burned. No explanation had ever been given and none was ever asked as he joined the other bilge rats or rigging monkeys that called the ship home. His memories flashed forward, he was 12 years old and had just killed for the first time with warm blood covering his face and running down the edge of his blade. it had felt as if he had been dropped into the sea in winter, moments later he was being cheered and tossed into the air repeatedly by the crew and soon enough was given the name Ronalf by the Captain, marking his official membership to aldult hood and a real member of the crew. More memories flashed by as he rose through the ranks and challenged the Captain, beating him to death with a belaying pin and becoming Captain. Raiding towns and ships, the first time he was called Keel-breaker, through the golden years of his life until the darkest.
The ultimate downfall of the The Krakens Mercy and Ronalf Keel-Breaker was pride and greed. They had raided a ship filled with magical artifacts and were in good spirits. Ronalf took a sapphire orb that seemed to contain a raging sea and storm in miniature as his share and soon after the trouble began. Many of the crewmates Ronalf had set out with as children were now entering their twilight years and wished to return to land, retire and enjoy their ill-gotten wealth. Ronalf and the younger members of the crew disagreed however but agreed that they could leave when they next went to port, knowing that it could be several years before this would happen. In the dead of night a mutiny occured and Ronalf was dragged out from his bed, bleeding and broken as the crew beat him with belaying pins. they had considered it a fitting fate. Ronalf was unconcious when they tied the chains around his neck, arms and legs and weight them down to a cannon before rolling it off the edge of the deck. he was woken by the cold shock of salt water and struggled in vain agaisnt his bindings. He screamed curses as the water filled his lungs but his last thoughts begged for life at any cost. He heard an unearthly voice in his head, old as the oceans and unfathomably large. Ronalf did not understand the language it spoke yet he somehow understood. Before he drowned his last sight was off a great dark shape grasping upwards and the sillouhette of his ship shattering to pieces.
Ronalf awoke very much alive on a beach near a ruined fishing village he knew where he was and shivered, the crashing waves on the cliffs echoing with laughter in his mind and a voice too old to fathom "The pact has been paid for in death and so you shall belong to me in life". Ronalf eventually discovered that 3 years had passed since he was thrown overboard but he had no recollection of the time in between. He awoke with whalebone belaying pin carved in flowing runic script that curled and spiraleed like a breaking wave and felt power through it. He had an awareness of abilities he did not remember having and found he had some limited use of magic and an innate ability to summon an ethereal part of his master into the world for a short time. When next he slept he dreamt of a place he had never seen before, a great mountain and three lakes in the frozen northlands and always the eyes, the voice, the deep and the dark.
Ronalf startled himself out off his memerories and blinked slowly. The slow and simple life in icedale had not been an easy fit for him and he had spent 2 years waiting for some sign of what he was suppossed to be doing. 2 years of nightmares off his previous life and his servitude to something that made even his wildest dreams insignifigant. 2 years followed by the ghosts of his crew that had grown up, killed for, betrayed by and ultimately sacrificed for him. The darkness and bitter cold of the place hung heavy on him. once he would have scoffed at the supersitions of this frost Maiden.
Locals rarely commented on his presence publicly, but there was plenty of muttering whenever Ronalf walked by. Passerby's would watch the grizzled man with suspicion and a cautiousness that was well earned. His salt and pepper flecked hair was largely unkempt though often drawn back into a leather corded ponytail and the long scar over his right eye was far too clean to have been made by any beast or accident. Displayed under the open collar of his shirt were scars on his neck of an undefinable origin though clearly uniform in shape, similar in form to a gallows mark yet they could not have been made by any conventional rope. The eyes were usually drawn to his slightly pointed ears and the elegant frame of his face that marked his elven heritage. Ronalf always carried a sturdy and curiously carved belaying pin, seemingly carved from some kind of shimmering jewel which he kept tucked into his belt and a scrap of sail cloth bearing strange symbols that he kept rolled up and wore like a necklace.
In his youth Ronalf Keelbreaker had been a notorious pirate robbing and pillaging the sword coast for almost 3 decades or so before mysteriously vanishing with his ship The Krakens Mercy at the height of his notoriety. The stories had largely become exaggerated over time and told that he was a particularly violent and merciless pirate captain. Survivors of his raids were said to have been tied or chained to the decks before their ship was scuttled. It was also said that if a ship surrendered he would lash them to barrels and flotsam and leave them to the mercy of the sea. A few very rare stories painted Ronalf in a more generous light, reporting that he sent the survivors off in their longboats with provisions before scuttling the ships. these stories are far and few between however. Regardless of the particulars had earned his epithet by ensuring no ship he sought would every reach dry land whole.
The adventurer Ronalf was fairly solitary but cheerful and a good worker and always free to lend a hand when someone was in a tight spot, nothing like the dread pirate in the stories. Yet it could not be denied he had a certain presence in the few times he had barked commands in a sticky situation and he had a certain air of comfort and confidence when handling rope, sail and tiller. The physical description from the ale stories matched him well and one travelling bard even had a rough likeness that could be his younger brother. The question that played at people's minds most was why would the dread Keelbreaker be an adventurer? If he was indeed Ronalf Keelbreaker then he should have amassed a great fortune and be living a life comfort and debauchery, not risking his life and sleeping rough ins tables out of the rain.
Ronalf was not oblivious to the speculation and glances but paid them little mind. In moments of quiet he dreamed of an old life of salt spray, wind and canvas. He had been young when The Krakens Mercy anchored off his small fishing cove. He remembered little other than being grabbed by rough hands and carried off to the ship as his village burned. No explanation had ever been given and none was ever asked for as he joined the other bilge rats and rigging monkeys that called the ship home. His memories would always flash forward, he was 12 years old and had just killed for the first time with warm blood covering his face and running down the edge of his blade. It had felt as if he had been dropped into the sea in winter, moments later he was being cheered and tossed into the air repeatedly by the crew and soon enough was given the name Ronalf by the Captain, marking his official membership to adulthood and a real member of the crew. More memories flashed by as he rose through the ranks and challenged the Captain, beating him to death with a belaying pin and becoming and taking his place. Raiding towns and ships, the first time he was called Keel-breaker, memories flashing by through the darker years of his older life.
The ultimate downfall of the The Krakens Mercy and Ronalf Keel-Breaker had been pride. They had raided a ship filled gold and jewels as well as several magical artifacts and were in good spirits. Ronalf took a mysterious shimmering orb that seemed to contain a labyrinthian structure of shapes and colours that caused ache to the mind when studied too long. Each new angle of viewing seemed to show a completely different set of shapes, an optical illusion Ronalf had told himself, some illusionists toy, yet it was seductive in its strange way and no other gem was a s beautiful to Ranolf as the shimmering orb.
Ranolf began to become more secluded and cared less and less for plunder and instead plotted erratic courses across the sea risking storms and deadly reefs. Crewman were lost and supplies ran lower with stops for provisions becoming ever scarce. Eventually he dropped anchor in a desolate and eerily placid part of the sea. No fish were spotted in the water nor birds in the sky and for several weeks they stayed in that position as Ranolf refused to leave his cabin. Ranolf spent the days muttering to himself at the orb. His memories of the time were a blur and remembered as though watching from another persons perspective, observing rather than precisely remembering. Many of the crewmates Ronalf had set out with as children were now entering their twilight years and wished to return to land, retire and enjoy their ill-gotten wealth. One by one they began to fear what fate might await them if they remained loyal to the Captain. The younger members of the crew spoke openly of mutiny and even Ranolf's oldest and most loyal friends could see which direction the winds of fate were blowing. As far as they were concerned Ronalf had already condemned them to a long and drawn out death.
In the dead of night Ronalf was dragged out from his bed, bleeding and broken as the crew resorted to beating him after he had struck a crew member dead with orb. Ronalf was unconscious when they tied the chains around his neck, arms and legs before lashing him to the spare anchor. Ranolf was woken by the cold shock of salt water and struggled in vain against his bindings. He screamed curses as the water filled his lungs and but his last thoughts begged for life at any cost. He heard an unearthly and ageless voice in his head. Ronalf did not comprehend the language it spoke yet he somehow understood. Before he drowned his last sight was off a great shape grasping upwards and the silhouette of his ship shattering to pieces. He heard the screams off his mutinous crew so clearly in his memories yet knew it could not have been possible.
Ronalf awoke very much alive on a beach near a ruined fishing village he had recognised where he was and shivered, the crashing waves on the cliffs echoing with a kind of laughter in his mind and a voice too old to fathom "The pact has been paid for in death and so you shall belong to me in life". Ronalf eventually discovered that 3 years had passed since he was thrown overboard but he had no recollection of the time in between. He awoke with a shimmering belaying pin carved in flowing runic script that curled and spiraled in unnatural ways and felt power through it. The belaying pin was made from the same curious material as the shimmering orb he once cherished. Memories of the orb only brought revulsion and fear to Ronalf now. He had awoken with an awareness of abilities he had never possessed and found he had some limited use of magic. Though mostly illiterate he could now understand all letters and words he laid eyes on regardless of origin and could speak directly to another's mind though he did his best to avoid using this gift with strangers.
2 years he wandered with the ghosts of his crewmates lingering just out of sight and on the shadows of his mind before he fell into the life of an adventurer. He had liberated a small village from a group of local thugs, after that he had killed a few goblins that ambushed a merchant cart he had travelled with. The adventures life seemed to suit Ranolf and he felt a bit of the joy he once had as he threw himself into danger for riches and reward. he did not believe it could ever be the same but it was a start and perhaps one day he would discover what he had bargained with for his life. eventually he joined a group of other adventurers and began his new life in earnest.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:49, Fri 05 Aug 2022.