[Marius Falconhand]

Bulwyf Falconhand

Age: 26
Class: Paladin
Race: Human
Alignment: LG
Deity: Grannoch


Bio:
Bulwyf is a man of the north. His eyes seem warm and friendly, yet you can’t shake the feeling that when he entered the temperature in the room dropped quite a few degrees. But before you can know of Bulwyf and his ways, you must first know of his ancestry.

Bulwyf’s family has long since served the King of Roldem, acting as both body guards and loyal generals in times of war. Bulwyf though would not grow up in the Kingdom of Roldem as generations before him had. His grandfather, Tolin Falconhand, would make a choice that would impact his family forever. One day while out guiding the King on a hunt, the kings party would do nothing short of killing every last breathing creature in their path, themselves included. This infuriated Tolin to no end. These pompous and arrogant men were out killing for bloodlust, not sport or for the good of the land. He asked the King to call off the hunt, but he would not. For he too began to get a taste for the so called “sport” that his nobles were partaking of. After one final plea for mercy on behalf of the wild beasts of the land, not a single ear hearing it, Tolin turned his back on his King and left the Kingdom of Roldem, never to be seen again.

After 15 years of travel, the now King-less Falconhand’s headed back to the northern lands from which they were originally plucked. Upon arriving on the island nation of Bastil, Tolin gazed upon the snow capped peaks that his family spoke of for generations. He took his family and headed for the valleys that ran below and between the high peaks above. They finally settled into an area that had a lake for fishing, forests for lumber and wild game, and also caves where ore could be found to make many goods.

A year later, the Falconhands thrived as they cultivated the land for crops and began to mine iron and stronger metals from the caves. One fateful day when Tolin was out searching for new cave entrances, he came upon a group of terrible frost giants. They sought to take Tolin and make him a mid day snack. For Tolin, this was not an option for him or the giants. They fought back and forth, trying to take the other one down a peg or two, but the giants could not seem to hurt the wily old man. He seemed to know each strike that was coming to him and he was gone before it ever reached him. After hours of stand off, the giants and Tolin came to an agreement. The giants would leave Tolin to his business, if the Falconhands would not venture too far into the heights of the mountains.

For over 60 years, the Falconhands would see no bloodshed. That is until a terrible evil began to enter the land. On the southern edge of the island, Tolin’s son, Arkath Falconhand, would see the impending doom of what was yet to come. A large army of undead and the like came through a rift in the very fabric of the universe. Then he saw a being of the most evil desires, worse then he could ever imagine. But before this being could step through the rift, it collapsed upon itself, destroying his army that were entering through it.

Quickly Arkath made his way back to his family, to warn them of the danger that looms on the horizon. With haste the Falconhands prepared for battle. The forges began to glow nearly day and night for over three weeks. Each family member had a set of armor and weapons of their choosing specially crafted for them. The frost giants had also seen the terror that soon would rupture space again and head in their direction. The Giantess shaman by the name of Frotkjarring (Frot-Ke-Yarring) came down from the peaks and began to aid in the crafting of the weapons, adding magical enchantments to each blade and bow. When Arkath saw the joining of the groups, not since his father Tolin forged the initial bonds, did Arkath feel as though he could do right for the Falconhand family. Frotkjarring asked Arkath if there was any final weapons to be forged, for she had a great enchantment yet to be added. Arkath decided not to use it for himself, yet he would use it for his sons weapon, a war hammer. After the final strike of the smith’s hammer to the steel block that was to be the head of the hammer, Frotkjarring let loose with an enchantment that instantly took the intense heat from the steel block. It seemed to drip with ice, as if the hammer head itself was made from the glacial floes.

Later that same evening, Bulwyf Falconhand was given his weapon of great power. He was instructed to use it in a manner fitting of a Falconhand. With his armor strapped to his massive frame, he set forth for the front lines, waiting for the evil to return.

Over three weeks would pass before the rush of preparations wore thin. Bulwyf’s father Arkath came to him and asked that he would go forth and find allies that would band with their land to rid it of the evil to come. Shortly there after Bulwyf, against his wishes of being home to aid his land, made his way south to the continent of Mistone. In this great land he would search for allies to aid him in the destruction of this great evil.