Warrior

## Introduction

As a child his entire tribe was slaughtered in front of him, pushing into the forest with a mysterious ranger he wanders looking for revenge. The Warrior harnesses his brute physical power, supplemented by the ability to harness lighting itself, to fight off those that face him.

His attacks focus on physical and lighting attacks, being able to target single enemies or entire groups at once. His skills are easy to master, making him a reliable hero in any party across Eternity.

## Backstory

For the full text of the warriors backstory in pdf please click here, or read in plain text below.

Before he had a name, he was simply Child, one of many amongst the Eldreadi tribe. The wandering caravans of the Eldreadi were known throughout the land as a place of respite when travelling the Kallida Plains. They were brave in the face of danger, but generous towards strangers, and all who came in peace were welcome at their fire.

One of the more well-known traditions of the Eldreadi was the naming of their children. The tribe, as a community, named the child during the Ritual of the Passage when they turned 16 years of age. The naming tried to capture their personality, their place in the tribe, or what the community hoped they would become.

The morning of his Passage Day, Child was preparing himself when he heard a scream across the camp. He brushed out of his tent and spotted armored men riding horses all wearing the crest of the Echelon. The riders tore across the camp, trampling through tents and supplies and running down his tribesmen.

The Echelon were known for their righteousness and chivalry. Why were the king's knights cutting down members of his tribe? As he watched, the elder that would've pronounced his name was crushed by a horse’s hooves. Child wavered, rooted by confusion and fear, torn between fleeing and jumping in to help fight them off.

His father ran up, grabbed a spear, and shoved him back into the hut. Child scrambled to his feet, paused a moment longer, then took his own spear and made his way into the chaos. His father called down the power of the holy Valkyr and a bright light began to well up around his hands and lightening jumped from his spear and caught the closest knight right in the chest. Fire burst everywhere around the knight and caught two others that were close behind him. It also spread to the surrounding tents and caught several of the caravan’s wagons. Bodies were everywhere. Child weaved through the smoke, avoiding the sound of horses.

He almost reached his father only to see him run through by a knight’s sword. Child shouted and threw his spear. The tip punctured the knight’s throat and he fell from his horse, dead.

Child crouched over his father. The sword had passed through his heart and his eyes were already lifeless. His blood – his father’s blood – stained the grass. It was still warm.

The world rocked under his feet. A wave of nausea overtook him and he heaved his breakfast. Tears and snot dripped down his face. He could hardly see.

Child wiped his face. His fists clenched, and his arms shook, and he stood. He tried to call upon the power but found nothing, he wasn't ready. He seized his spear from the body of the fallen knight and looked for a new target. One death wasn’t enough to pay the debt.

Despite his resolve, he quickly noticed several riders galloping toward him. He knew he might take one down, perhaps two, but his father’s lessons echoed in his head. If he was going to live to tell the tale, he couldn’t be stupid.

With a quick step and a jump, he mounted the free horse and kicked his heels hard into its ribs. The horse reared, almost tossing Child to the ground. He clutched the animal's neck and yelled at the top of his lungs, "GO!"

The horse bolted. Child glanced back and saw two riders not far behind, one of them with a spear cocked and aimed at his horse. Child tugged the reins and veered the horse toward the trees at the edge of camp, barely missing getting skewered. The spear thrower reached for another. Child knew his only hope was to use the forest to his advantage.

He drove his horse into a winding trail through the trees. He rode this path hundreds of times while hunting with his father. His knowledge of the twists and turns let him easily outpace his pursuers. He heard them curse at every tree branch that caught them in the face. After getting around another bend, he rode the horse towards the lowest branch he could catch, swung up, and scaled the tree before the riders caught him in their line of sight again.

Child tempered his breathing. The wait was only moments, but it seemed like an eternity. The riders emerged around the corner, heads bent against the crowded trees reaching across the path. They slowed to duck under the branch Child had used to pull himself up.

Child leapt, leading with his spear. He fell upon the closest rider just as the man looked up and stabbed him down his throat. He rode the man to the ground in a spray of blood.

Child struggled to free his weapon from his flailing victim, but in the meantime the second rider dismounted his horse. He grabbed Child by the hair, lifted him to his feet, screamed in his face, then swung his bloodied sword.

Child closed his eyes. He didn’t feel worried – just frustrated his plan didn’t work. At least he would see his father soon. Maybe he could still have his Passage.

There was a short cry and a gurgle. No pain.

Child cracked an eye and saw an arrow sticking out from his assailant’s head. Blood soaked his tabard. The soldier’s hand fell and he collapsed to the ground. Child scrambled backward.

A voice sounded behind him, and he turned. There stood a hooded stranger with a short sword strapped to her waist, a bow in her hands, and an ugly grimace on her face. "Why was a Knight of the Echelon about to put a sword through you, kid?”

The focused rage that kept Child moving left him. He trembled like a leaf in the wind, directionless, adrift. He fell to his knees and fell to sobbing.

The woman sighed. "I will not harm you, but you need to be quiet.  Quiet!” She smacked him on the shoulder, jolting him from his tears, then waved at the corpses. "Well? Why did I just help you kill a knight?"

Child retold the story as best he could, choking his way through the death of his father and tribesmen. The woman’s coldness faded somewhat at the retelling. "Let us make our way back then," she said, voice softened. "Quietly though, yes?"

The Ranger tied their horses out of sight of the trail and led the way on foot. Her boots whispered through the grass; she moved even more quietly than Child, and he knew the way.

They stopped just at the tree line to observe the camp. The king's men were collecting their spoils – his tribe’s food, supplies, even their personal belongings – and loading up their horses. They threw the hacked-up remains of the wagons into a growing bonfire, then started unceremoniously adding bodies. The Ranger could see the tears welling up in the boys eyes; she put her hand on his shoulder and a finger to her lips.

After gaining a safe distance, she spoke again. "What has your tribe done to deserve this?"

"I do not know, my lady ranger."

"I'm not a lady, kid."

"But they came from nowhere. They killed…” Child hiccupped. “Everyone. For nothing.” Child stared at her. "I have no name. Today was my Passage Day. Everyone is gone. I have no name."

The Ranger looked at sky. “What madness have you delivered me into?”

“Who are you talking to?”

She glanced at him. "You may follow me, until I tire of you. What’s this nonsense about your name?”

“I was supposed to earn one. Today is my 16th birthday. That’s what the Passage is.”

“I've heard of that before," she said, rubbing her chin. "Well, you’ve had more than enough passage by my reckoning and I need to call you something. Might as well pick."

Child wanted to say that wasn’t how it worked – the tribe was supposed to name him, a collective title that gathered together his being from all their experience and set him into the world. The argument didn't leave his mouth. "I don't know. I never thought about it myself."

"No time like the present."

It came to him faster than he expected. The tribe wasn't gone – not yet. Not as long as he still stood. “My name...is Eldread. They will not forget my tribe. I'll make sure.”

"Eldread it is. I’m Dhenuj. Let’s go.”

And so it was that for the first time in centuries, a member of the Eldreadi tribe named themselves.