Horst Schon-Eilbote

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Race Region Gender Age
Human Averlander Male <age>
Careers Completed
Messenger In progress
Total Experience Advances Spent
0 0
Conservative Stance Reckless Stance
3 1
Characteristics Level Fortune
Strength 2 0
Toughness 3 0
Agility 4 0
Intelligence 3 0
Willpower 2 0
Fellowship 5 0
Basic Skills Char. Training Level
Athletics St 0
Ballistic Skill Ag 0
Coordination Ag 0
Intimidate St 0
Resilience To 0
Ride Ag 1
Skulduggery Ag 0
Stealth Ag 0
Weapon Skill St 0
Charm Fel 1
Discipline WP 0
First Aid Int 0
Folklore Int 1
Guile Fel 0
Intuition Int 1
Leadership Fel 0
Nature Lore Int 0
Observation Int 0
Advanced Skills Char. Training Level
Specializations Char.
Horsemanship Ri/Agi
Influencing People Ch/Fel
Talent Cards Type Detail
I Seem to Recall Focus <detail>
I Know a Guy Reputation <detail>
Action Cards Type Detail
Winning Smile Social <detail>
Other Abilities Type Detail
Diversity Racial At character creation, all humans begin with 25 creation points
Greenskinners Racial Each time an Averlander kills a non-henchman greenskin, he may recover either 1 stress or 1 fatigue
Superior Stock Racial The Strength score of any horse ridden by an Averlander is increased by 1
Messenger Career Each time fortune refreshes, you may immediately perform a free manoeuvre.
Wealth Fame Rk Noble Rk
Poor 0 0
Shame Threshold
0 0
Wounds Threshold
Criticals Description
Sev. Injuries Description
Corruption Threshold
0 0
Mutations Description
Insanities Description
Diseases Description
Weapons Enc DR CR Range Special Notes
Crossbow 4 6 3 Long Two Handed, Reload
Armour Enc Defense Soak Special Notes
<name> <enc> <defense> <soak> <notes>
Equipment Enc Equipment Enc Equipment Enc
Durable comfortable clothes Small rucksack
Enc Limit Enc
0 0
Gold Silver Brass
0 39 7
Messenger Career Advance limits
Actions Talents
1 3
Skills Fortune
2 2
Conservative Reckless
2 0
Career Advances
o Action Card: <detail>
o Talent: <detail>
o Skill Training or Specialty: <detail>
o Light Wound Threshold: <detail>
o Open Career Advance: <detail>
o Open Career Advance: <detail>
o Open Career Advance: <detail>
o Open Career Advance: <detail>
o Open Career Advance: <detail>
o Open Career Advance: <detail>
Career Completion Advances
o Career Transition: <detail>
o Dedication Bonus: <detail>
Non-Career Advances
ooooo Advance Type: <detail>
ooooo Advance Type: <detail>

Before the Storm of Chaos Horst was one of the prestigious “Red Route Runners”, messengers trusted across the empire to carry some of the most precious messages and cargo.
However, when the hordes of the enemy swept across the land the delicate tracery of contacts and resources that supported the Runners was smashed.
Runners found themselves unable to call upon the hospitality at road side inns and wayshrines that they were used to. Some of them were able to get back from the battlefront and returned to “civilization”.
Others were able to eke out an existence making themselves useful to the war effort.
A very unfortunate few were caught behind the lines of the rampaging chaos horde and were barely able to escape with their lives, forced to hole up in anything that passed for fortification. Wintering in caves, the only meat had to be taken from the proud mounts that made them who they were.
Blighted and weakened Horst managed to find his way to one of the long refugee trains. Pitiful folk, huddled together for warmth and what little safety numbers lent them against the ravening hordes of chaos.
Disease, starvation, insanity and worse preyed on the fleeing remnants of hardy villages and strong townships.
The conditions only grew worse as the numbers of the displaced grew. Vermin proliferated at a faster pace than the refugee’s numbers grew. Horst wished he could burn from his memory the screams of the young mother who’s infant child was taken from her sleeping arms by a wild dog.
The tide of humanity moved, slowly and inexorably back to civilization. until one day the storm was past and the road ahead promised safety and comfort.
But that comfort was never found, the safety never encountered. The hordes of chaos gave way to bandits, hucksters and charlatans ready to prey on the desperate and the weak. What was worse, a creature that was evil because it was in its nature or one that was evil because it chose to be so.
Months later, Horst found that he had washed up on the shores of the city of Marienburg, human flotsam with ne’er a brass penny to his name.
Luckily the city had sent its fair share of favoured sons to their deaths in the war, so finding abandoned accommodation was not a problem.
Since that time he had been grubbing out an existence, it couldn’t be called living, through begging and rummaging through refuse.
Friends are rare on the street, but Horst had always found it easy to make people feel comfortable, and a small cadre of homeless now settle down of a night in or around the dingy hovel that Horst calls home.
Numbers to fend off the perils of the night…

Your name is Horst Schon-Eilbote.

You’re a Human male from the Empire, 34 years of age. You set out on your life of adventure long ago to escape your home in a sleepy village in the Averland province.
You are 5 foot 9 and weigh 160 pounds. You have medium brown hair, eyes the colour of smoke and a farmer’s tan. You are right handed. Your lucky charm is a bronze pendant that you wear on a bracelet and your most distinguishing feature is a winding scar in plain sight.

You believe the gods are against you.
You believe it’s unlucky to give an animal a name.
You believe in most of the common superstitions.

Your birthday is late in the summer, on the 11th day of Nachgeheim (the After Mystery). Your star sign is that of The Dancer, the sign of love and attraction. The cause of your doom is revealed thus: As dark clouds gather, thy end looms.

Your family’s colours are brilliant blue and forest green. Your family shield is emblazoned with the image of a horse.
Your mother is infirm and your father is deceased. You have 1 younger sister. You have no children and have never been married.

It’s strength in numbers as far as you’re concerned. You know several members of a local guild of which you were once a member.
It’s widely known that you’re the bitter enemy of someone in your same line of work.

You have a pouch on your belt in which you keep 39 silver shillings and 7 brass pennies.
Your clothing consists of a linen vest, black trousers, high boots, a wide belt, a tri-corn hat and a Leather Jack.
You are armed with a crossbow. You also carry a sharp knife tucked into your belt.
Your travelling gear consists of a bag and these essential adventurers’ items: a warm blanket, a wooden tankard, a steel fork, a plug of salted horse meat, a pewter flask of brandy, a cooking pot, a gardener’s spade and 7 days worth of rations to eat. To light your way, you carry a bundle of tallow candles and a pouch with flint and steel.
You also have a smoking kit with a few pinches of rough tobacco.
39s 7b

You’re living in a dingy hovel nearby. It was abandoned when you found it, and so far no one’s complained.

Horst Schon-Eilbote

The Thousand Thrones princeearwig