Wrangolor

# Wrango-lore

## The mysterious origin

### Humble beginnings

Łukasz’s adventure with incarnating fantasy characters began with the deadly assassin known under the name Wrangolor. Some laughed at that name, but they regretted it when his blade pierced their guts. Or not. He was very mysterious.

### Gone Rogue

Wrangolor must have come from a noble family once, mayhaps even a prince, but he was abandoned, and raised among the peasants of Riverside. At the age of 11 a mysterious master appeared in the life of our anti-hero, and began teaching him the art of the edge. Alas, the Unknown Master’s past caught up to him, men who he had wronged before, or even not. He had to leave, he couldn't put Wrangolor in danger.

   Therefore, the 17-year-old boy was left alone, and in search of work, he did what he was best at, he killed. Especially shorter people were targets of his strikes, but paid well, he wouldn’t hesitate to murder anyone, be it a Town Mayor, or his neighbor.

## Adventures of Wrangolor

### New companions

No criminal can enjoy a stable life though, and much like his Master, Wrangolor had to flee, once the authorities had enough of his slaughter. His steps took him North, where in the land of Vikings it was your strength that mattered, not your past. In the City of Skarsvag he met with a group of Adventurers, hired by a man long dead, to perform a quest long forgotten, though that was where his story truly began.

They travelled East, and Wrangolor’s powerful persona immediately captivated the group, as they killed guards who tried to mug them. A similar fate met any brigands who dared assault the Assassin on the way. A betrayal by one of the men who hired them, taught Wrangolor to trust no one but himself, and nothing but the edge (of his blade). Now also revenge on a man under the name Ishtrín pushed him to the mountain passes. However, a storm, and the influence of a God, drove the party below the slopes, into the Temple of a Thousand Faces, and in the deep corridors and halls of that dungeon the ghosts of the Dead attempted to bring our anti-hero to their ranks, but he dispersed their illusions and smashed their bones. His reward, mayhaps unwanted, was a misty Eye that a father tore from his son’s head, before both spirits found rest. With that source of suffering and power, he managed to emerge alive on the other side of the Temple.

### A Demonic standoff

In the City of Andvir, Wrangolor made an alliance with a dangerous criminal after defeating him, and the archer revealed Ishtrín’s location to him. With a clever tactic of stealing weapons from his enemies, the Assassin managed to bring down his enemy, despite him wielding a magical sword made of blackness. Wrangolor saved a Demoness from evil Undead, and she mistook him for a powerful Fiend himself, who’s trying to fool the other mortals, and she decided not to sabotage his ploy.

Once back in Andvir, a man named Vitold hired them to escort him to the Last Trading Post, but Wrangolor saw through his lies, and realized the man was trying to kill them. Or just had gold who Wrangolor wanted to take. Either way, he struck first, and killed dozens of guards who came to stop them, but eventually they were arrested, and Vitold fled.

### The End... or was it?

Through shrewd choices of words, Wrangolor got himself and the rest out of trouble, and continued his journey. At the Last Trading Post, the blackness that always lived inside the assassin finally started pouring out, and he descended into the darkness of the closet, for if he stayed outside, the world would be doomed by the depth of his shadow. When attackers came in the night, he didn’t fight to save his friends, or to defend the Post… only to feed his insatiable hunger for blood, and to test his abilities to the limit. None of them lived to see the light of day. Except the 2 that did, but they don’t count.

In the morning, a beautiful girl arrived at the Post, bearing a letter addressed to Wrangolor. It was from his old Master, and said to meet him at the Laughing Coffin Inn. Our anti-hero soon departed, for he knew that if he stayed, his edge would only hurt those around him, and there was no way back from his path of perpetual destruction.