Character:Gideon Rasvjeta
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Name:Gideon Rasvjeta
Age: 16
Birthday: Dragon 13th
Description: 5'9" Dark skinned and brawny looking. sun bleached brown hair giving it red highlights, and hardening tough skin to a deeper bronze. Carries a well worn burn scared club of Cypress and heavy hides for armor.

Usual Dress: Hides and Furs, or bare chested in the warmest months

Homeland: South Western Arnonia

Parents:My father died while hunting greatpaw a massive grizzly bear , my mother perishied on the night of my birth. If it was not for the witch Theysis and the blessing of the stormfather i would be dead as well

Siblings: All the tribe are as my brothers and sisters

Spouse/kids: I had not taken a wife before the stormlord bade me to journey to the professor. But Lanor our chief had spoken to me of Freya and what a great mate she would be to a powerful warrior, After I had made my first hunt.

History:
The Lost Tribe
In Southern Arnonia there are several tribes of Barbarians, most maintain a loose kinship with one another but one tribe has not been heard from since the fall of the whispering tyrant. Thronnes Rouke. It was not until tales of a tribe decimated by the red death were only a handful survived did it draw the attention of professor lorrimor. When the professor came to visit and speak with this tribe his first assessment was they were a strange lot not worshiping the gods as the other barbarian tribes did but speaking of the ancestor spirits and of the storm father. When asked of their feelings of what had happened a story was started, as the professor wanted accurate notes he pulled from his bags a tome and quill to keep notes. At the sight of these things the tribe refused to share the tales of ancestors afraid to rise their anger. A superstitious lot when the professor asked why an adolescent told how the ancestor spirits told the tribe of how the marks on stone near (Whispering Tyrants Prison) Would burn the tribes blood with filth making them madder then a foaming bear and drive them to spreading sickness among the tribe. Some of the tribe ignored the warnings and ventured to close to the marks and did bring back a sickness. The witch and shaman did all they could to help the ill but no herb or prayer to the ancestors could cure the sick. Many were sick even my own mother. We were almost lost but the storm fathers wrath stroke down upon our camp many died during the storms of his vengeance for not heading the ancestors word. All of the sick died that night and some of the strong who were not sick but still went and broke the commands of the ancestors.
This is the night I was born, my mother with child and sick with rage struck down by the storm lords fury. Theysis the tribe witch is the one who scooped me from the burned belly of my mother. As theysis held me aloft and bid the spirits to give me breath, A final Bolt of fury crashed into the cypress knocking us to the grown and forcing breathe into my chest. Theysis said it was a sign from the storm father that I was blessed by him and the ancestor spirits protected by them. The bolt that sunder the tree left behind nothing but cinders, ash, and this::The man goes to a tent and brings out a bundle of hides. Carefully unwrapping them he shows a massive club lighting charred and of hefty weight.: Theysis called it my birthright from the storm father himself.
The professor and the young man talked of many things that night of plants the professor called astra and the man called star-flower, how when mixed with water and ground with elder berry it would create a paste that would help bind most wounds. Of what the druids of the north and the travelers believed in. The concept of gods was lost on the man. They spent the professors whole trip south keeping company, exchanging tales of the hunt and the strange things that were the skin of the unburned dead. How if they didn’t have much flesh and were mostly bone a heavy club brought them down quickly, but even a powerful blow did little to the bloated ones with lots of muscle. The professor told scary tales of the walking dead that could cast spells and drain life with a touch. The man told the professor if you ever need me call to the sky and if the storm father wills it the ancestors will guide me to you.

Why you became an adventurer?:

Close Friends:
Theysis the witch and healall who raised me and tought me of nature and the ancestor spirits.

Enemies:

Personality: Magic from marks is a bad thing, it brought a great sickness to my people not long ago. It is not of the ancestors and in such should not be trusted.

DM GENIE file for Gideon
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