Vano

Vano, upon having his two halves reunited and his memories merged, learns that Varissa is still alive. He departs Rosara and Obi to search for Varissa.

### Background

There are two types of tribes in Bor Bor. There are those who war with each other, raid caravans, and pillage settlements that cannot protect themselves. Then there are family units, in touch with the earth, who travel the trade routes between coastal cities selling goods and entertainments. Vanolka Bravo was born to the latter, but given his temper, he would have been better suited among the desert vagabonds.

Vanolka, or Vano for short, was useful to his tribe. Even peace-loving nomads who peddle handmade wares need warriors for protection. But the elders looked at him with sad eyes. Vano’s father, Elder Vantogeth, begged his son to give up the spear, but each time Vano considered his father’s wishes, the tribe would come across a torched camp, or the ruins of a small village and the horrid sights always made Vano question his people’s pacifistic ways.

Besides, Vano loved the thrill of the fight. He wrestled and sparred with his peers until none would face him. Some days, he wished for an attack just so he could prove himself. He longed for the fear and the rage that came with it. Tears came to his father’s eyes when Vano said “I’m leaving.” He did not want to hurt his family, but he needed more passion in his life and would not find it in the open desert.

A traveler told him of a place across the sea where a warrior could test his mettle. It took time, but Vano hired himself out as a caravan guard, mercenary, and privateer, all with an eye to reaching his ultimate destination: the Coalition of Marquis. He enlisted in the first outfit that would have him and joined the endless war games that kept the Coalition in a constant state of readiness.

At first, it was glorious. The provinces of the Coalition engaged in a perpetual mock war, and it fed Vano’s need for excitement and competition. But the first time he was reprimanded for being overzealous (really, he hadn’t meant to break the Edwed’s arm, but even mock weapons could do damage with a good swing) he realized that these war games lacked the thrill and the stakes of real combat. He lay awake at night wishing the fragile armistice between Nov Romara and the Coalition would crack and actual war would return to these lands. He dreamt of glory and heroism—he dreamt of death.

Eventually, his patience wore thin and when his first contract ended, he left the Coalition and travelled south to Coasten, a land of traders and coin. He only stayed long enough to board a ship bound for Jvar VunGal, the closest land to his real destination, Oaknesh and the God Seat of Oarkiris. The soldiers of the Coalition whispered of this place with a kind of reverence. In Oaknesh, they played war games too, but the Oakneshi played for blood.

He disembarked in a village in Jvar VunGal a hundred miles north of the God Seat of Oarkiris. No ship save the slavers who dealt with Oaknesh would willingly land any closer. Vano set out across the plains and when he came his destination, gave himself over to the first Oakneshi patrol. Thus, he was pressed into the conscript army of Oaknesh, joining slaves, prisoners, and the true rarity, volunteers.

Vano got what he wanted, and for a time, he reveled in it. He joined one of the fourteen houses of Oarkiris and learned what real war looked like. Conscripts battled back and forth across blood-soaked plains, led by the Scions of Oarkiris, true citizens of Oaknesh. He learned the life of a conscript is only worth the number of enemies he kills and Vano killed many. He became known for his rage and utter disregard for his own life. In the heat of battle, Vano was a whirling dervish, wielding his favorite weapon, a dual bladed halberd, with the brutal abandon of a demon from the deepest hell.

His prowess did not go unnoticed, and he earned himself the highest honor a conscript can earn. He was elevated into the ranks of the Scions of Oarkiris. But unlike native born Scion, Vano was still considered the property of his legion and was marked accordingly with an intricate facial tattoo. The next time he entered battle, he realized the mark served as more than a simple brand. It grew warm when he fought and stoked his rage into a blind frenzy.

Year after year, death after death, he began to wonder if he made the right choice. Battle had become a drug and he longed for it, but he began to see the faces of the dead in his dreams. He wondered if there was a way out, but such thought always met with a blunt and brutal truth. Oaknesh does not relinquish its own.

Around this time, he was charged with training a young Scion, Azathell, a prodigious young fighter whose natural instincts and speed were uncanny. He took great pride in Azathell’s development and knew the boy would eventually surpass him. But in the back of Vano’s mind, a horrible realization formed. Azathell came to him as an excited youth, full of energy and humor. With each battle, his eyes changed. Day by day, he gained the look of a killer, the same look Vano saw every time he stood in front of a mirror.

After one particularly vicious skirmish, the two of them walked the field of the dead. Azathell executed wounded enemies with brutal efficiency—without the slightest change in expression. Some of the enemy soldiers were no more than children. Vano knew the boy he took so much pride in, had become a monster, and worse, a monster Vano’s making. Before he could think on it, he said to Azathell the same words he said to his father so many years before: “I’m leaving.”

He felt he owed the boy as much and hoped he would understand, but Azathell’s face broke into a mask of betrayal. He attacked Vano, but Vano was older and stronger and felled Azathell with a vicious wound to the leg. Azathell screamed at Vano to kill him. Defeat and mercy are not tolerated in Oaknesh. But Vano chose the ultimate insult. He walked away and let his prodigy live.

Only through blind luck did Vano find his way safely out of Oaknesh. He stowed away on a Tekinesh pirate vessel. Most pirates would have turned him over to Oaknesh rather than risk their wrath, but as it turned out, the captain had an odd relationship with Nov Romara. He hunted other pirates who had stolen Nov Romaran goods, and because of this unorthodox relationship, he was no friend of Oaknesh. He found Vano’s escape impressive and took him on for several years. Vano served loyally. The work fed his inner monsters the blood they craved, but felt more wholesome, more just. The pirates they hunted were truly deplorable and Vano did not pity them.

But as with most jobs, Vano could only justify his hypocrisy so long. He had once thought of himself as a monster of necessity, but the pleasure he took in killing could not be denied. He was just a monster.

His stint at piracy ended badly, but that is a tale for another time. For several years he travelled, always looking over his shoulder for Oakneshi hunters. They would see his mark and inflict the only punishment deserters deserved: death. Wherever he went, he tried to find peaceful ways to live, but he only knew how to do one thing well.

As a last attempt to escape his demons, he returned to Bor Bor. He joined a nomadic tribe like the one he left so many years ago. The elders recognized one of their own and welcomed him, despite his mark. He fell into the simple life, the one he barely remembered, and wondered if he could return to his roots? Could he forget all that he had seen? Time would tell.

### Affiliations

Vano has lived an interesting life and is well versed in the criminal underworlds of several nations. He has contacts among Tekinesh pirates, Fultus drug runners, and mercenaries all over the world. He is also marked, and his affiliation with Oaknesh will be recognized by any who know the workings of Oakneshi military hierarchy. More importantly, his mark will be recognized by retired Children of Oarkiris who will see him as a traitor, an enemy, and will go to great lengths to see him dead.

### NPCs of Note

The Elders of his current tribe

Varrissa, a woman he loves from afar

His father, Vantogeth, who may or may not be alive

The elders of the tribe he was born into

Azathell, the Oakneshi War Master, who bears Vano nothing but hatred for his sin of mercy.

### Psychology

Vano is fighting a perpetual war with himself. He hates the killer he has become. But when the blood rises and he feels the rage like electricity coursing through his limbs, he loves it. His deepest desire is to control his emotions, but the very concept is counter intuitive as it is the loss of control that he finds so liberating.

His greatest regret is embodied in his prodigy, Azathell. He sees Azathell’s transformation as his fault. He can live with his own decisions (at least, this is what he has convinced himself of) but he still sees Azathell as an innocent youth he turned into a monster.

His greatest fear is that there truly is no redemption, that he is pretending at peace, and he will always revert to the killer who lurks deep within his heart.

### S1Ep1

Two years ago, Vano found a home and a family. He joined a travelling Menagerie that moves from village to village within Bor Bor and Faltus putting on grand performances. He has taken the martial forms he learned in Oaknesh and turned them into art, a dance of fiery blades. When he douses the dual heads of his halberd in oil that burns with multicolored flames and spins about in his intricate forms, he finds catharsis turning his art of death into something beautiful.

When he performs, he wears a mask to hide his mark. Most of the members of his troop do not know what the mark means, but the elders do. Vano has told them what will happen if it is noticed by the wrong people, but they have accepted him anyway. Varrissa, an acrobat in the troop has been particularly kind to him, but he keeps her at a distance. He isn’t ready for true intimacy. Not yet.

He is learning the ways of this truly peaceful tribe, the ways of the earth, the wind, and all natural forces. In meditation, he communes with the spirits of desert wolves for he relates to the balance between their quiet loyalty and fierce, predatory nature. He is coming to terms with who he was, who he is, and who he might be.

Until the message arrives.

“Meet me in Faltus. They are coming,” is all it says. He recognizes the seal. His freedom from his old life came with a price, and he knows he must pay old debts. He looks out on the camp of his new family. He will not let those he loves pay for his sins. He must go.