|Reoun of Clan Krigsanger
|Nickname(s)||Sewer Rat, Barbarian|
|Professions||Armorsmith, Weaponsmith, Miner, Prospector, Weaver, Skinner|
Reoun shares the common look of his Cimmerian people. He is tall, powerfully built, and rugged from life in the mountains. He does not often visit the more civilized cities, preferring to spend his time in the wild lands. As such, he is often garbed in simple leather armor and furs, gathered from slain enemies or made of his own hands and the hides he has gathered. Though a man of the wild, Reoun does keep himself bathed and his armor and furs as clean as outdoor living allows so as to not attract and harbor lice, fleas, or other unpleasant annoyances. Reoun keeps himself lightly equipped, carrying with him only what is needed to survive and remain highly mobile. Anything he keeps on his person is either sheathed or bound in fur or leather to muffle the sounds of his movements.
Looking over his body, scars can be seen criss-crossing his arms and legs, badges of honor from the life he has led. Looking to his neck, a tick, deep red line can be seen wrapping almost completely around it.
Reoun is a very proud and brave warrior, but knows his limits. He relishes the chance to test his strength against powerful foes, but is not foolish enough to misjudge his opponents. He would not rush to face a foe he knew would be his end, but rather hone his skills to face that foe properly and on more even terms. A foolish death is an honorless death. While Reoun can be boastful and intimidating towards he others, this is more his way of testing ones mettle and fortitude of character, than anything else. Those who do not back down from him and face him bravely are held in higher respect. Reoun is fairly easygoing about life in general, and simply looking to make his way in it. He does not seek or desire greatness, but instead believes it will come to him of its own accord and in its due time. He can be sarcastic, and has a surprisingly sharp wit to those with preconceived notions of Cimmerians. While he is distrustful of Stygians, he will work with them albeit with a watchful eye until they have proven themselves trustworthy in his eye (not an entirely easy feat). He has been friendly with Aquilonians, and treats them nearly them same as he would a Cimmerian.
Reoun grew up in a small village northeast of Conarch Village. His father was a hunter, trapper, and furrier and at an early age he taught Reoun the craft. He learned quickly the arts of tracking and moving stealthily through the forests and mountains of the wild. When he was in his early teenage years he learned the art of war from his uncle, who had spent decades fighting the Vanir and flesh-eaters from the farther north. Reoun learned to use axe, sword, and club in battle, and showed an aptitude for skillful and powerful blows from larger two handed weapons. On trips to Conarch with his father, Reoun would spend time with local smithies learning to work the anvil for both basic blacksmithing skills and building his powerful frame. His life continued as such for another decade and a half, during which he grow into a powerfully built man and a very adept warrior.
Now in his mid twenties, Reoun took to fighting the Vanir like his uncle. He traveled the northlands, enlisting with the local militia of smaller villages in need of warriors. After a few years, he began to grow headstrong and cocky, often disobeying orders in combat and chasing down Vanir and flesh-eaters who were routed. Word spread of Reoun's prowess in battle, but insubordinate attitude and he eventually found himself being turned away by more and more villages who began to see him as a liability. Striking out in anger, Reoun decided to hunt down and attack small bands of Vanir on his own. On his very first hunt, he tracked a small band of Vanir to a cave in the mountains north of Conarch Village. Having seen and tracked only four warriors over the past few days, he arrogantly attacked the Vanir as they sat around their campfire. His sudden rush took one Vanir in an instant, and a second a few moments later. The remaining Vanir readied themselves, and began to laugh as Reoun charged them. Their laughter only fueled his rage in battle, and he came at them savagely... and was struck full stride in the chest by a large stone. The blow blasted the air from his lungs and flung him backwards to the hard ground. Reoun dazedly stared around him, trying to keep from passing out, and focused on the cave from which the stone had come. A large, Yimirish warrior strode from the cave, another large stone in his huge hand. Knowing his doom was at hand, Reoun struggled to stand and face death on his feet, but collapsed and slipped into unconsciousness. The next moment Reoun can recall, he was being dragged along the ground behind a horse by a rope, a noose around his neck. Struggling for air, he grabbed hold of the rope and dug his fingers into his raw and torn skin, pulling the rope just enough to make gasps for air. After what seemed like an eternity, the horse jerked into a turn and Reoun could hear the swing of a blade cutting through the rope. Following the momentum of the turn, he bounced and rolled to slam against a hard surface... the outer wall of Conarch Village. He could hear in the back of his mind guards shouting, and the twang of bows as arrows were loosed into the night. Before loosing consciousness again, he felt himself being lifted from the ground.
Over the next few weeks Reoun lay recovering in the home of the local blacksmith, whom Reoun counted as a friend. Reoun's neck was torn and burned from the noose, ribs were broken from the hit he had taken from the stone, a shoulder was dislocated from his ride through the forest, and one arm had become broken at the forearm. Reoun spent months recovering from his wounds and working at the smithy to regain his strength once he was able. He worked off and on with the smithy over the next few year, as well as hunting and trapping local game for the village before heading the call of battle once more...