Name: Anyon Merriweather
Race: Human
Age: 63
Hair: White
Eyes: Blue
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 170
Class: Barbarian
Alignment: Chaotic Neutral, Neutral Good tendencies
Background: Anyon was the son of a weaponsmith and a florist in the capital city of the kingodom. He joined the church of St. Cuthbert at the age of 16, filled with the zeal of youth. He had a passion for history and a naive dedication to Law in all forms. His dedication to the faith and his natural talent in the fires of the forge caused him to stand out among the other young hopefuls. After two years of diligent study, he became a fully-fledged cleric and set out on a campaign with three other newly incepted missionaries of the church to convert other lost sheep to the faith.
While they were travelling in the wilderness, the party came across a roving band of orc hunters just as night was falling. The orcs invited them into their camp and shared a meal of fresh venison with them. Unable to pass up such an unexpected chance to proslytize to unfortunate savages, the clerics began preaching the faith as soon as the meal ended. The orcs listened as politely as orcs can manage, made few responses aside from the occasional grunt, then proceeded to suggest that they all sleep it over. Anyon, satisfied that he had made some clear ground with the wild creatures, drifted off to sleep.
But he was not destined to rest this night.
He woke up to a chorus of agonized screams. He was bound to a small boulder with hemp rope. Mere feet away from him, his three friends from the church were being held down and tortured. One orc that he did not recognize from the night's events appeared to be a shaman of some kind. As Anyon struggled in vain against the knots that held him immobile, the shaman approached each one of his comrades in turn, and slit their throats with a small, ornate dagger crafted from pearly white bone. As they lay bleeding, he inserted it into their left eye sockets, and plucked their eyes from their very skulls in tribute to his patron deity, Gruumsh.
Anyon's horror reached a peak. Adrenaline coursing through his blood, he wrenched his right arm out of the knot that held it, shattering the delicate bones in his wrist in the process. Roaring in rage, he hefted the hundred-pound boulder with his left arm, and swung it ruthlessly at the head of the orc shaman. The witch doctor went flying into a tree at the far end of the clearing. The other orcs, now alert, began approaching him. None of them made it more than a few steps before their heads were caved in from the force of his attacks.
The sounds of the melee echoing into silence, Anyon found himself weakened, and dropped the immensely heavy boulder. He dragged it behind him and cut the ropes with the small dagger that the shaman was wielding. Immediately, he ran to check the status of his friends. Two of them had already bled to death, but one cleric, a woman named Orla, was holding on to life by a thread. He summoned his will and cast the most powerful healing spell in his arsenal, but since his strength was completely sapped, the most he could do was stabilize her. Making sure she was still breathing, he collapsed into a black unconsciousness.
<Part Two and build will come tomorrow. Give me feedbacksies, plox.>
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