Jakob Samson; security, recon, anchor.
Mountain of a man
Born Peasant, Shepherd, Lead to Outcast, Bandit, Lead to Professional Soldier, Sailor, Scout
Age : 25
|Will: B3||Perception: B4||Power: B5||Forte: B5||Agility: B5||Speed: B5|
|Health: B4||Reflexes: B4||Mortal Wounds: B11||Steel: B6|
|Hesitation: 7||Resources: B1||Circles: B1||Stride:7|
|PTGS||Su: B3||Li: B6||Mi: B8||Se: B9||Tr: B10||Mo: B11|
- From what I reckin, the only crew on this here ship is me. I’ll do what e’r it takes to keep her a’goin’
- Doctors cause more harm then good if’n ya ask me. Don’t let ’em touch me.
- Good Orcs ‘r daid Orcs. I’ll git ’em good!
- When there’s a discussion, let them know what my Granmammy always used to say.
- Always takes everything literally.
- Always take good care of Huckleberry
[Char] Cry Wolf,
[C-O] Iron Stomach,
[Dt] Massive Stature,
[C-O] Arrow Footing (Sea Legs)
|Animal Husbandry B2||Bow B2||Brawling B4||Climbing B2||Cudgel B3|
|Flute B2||Foraging B2||Intimidation B2||Knots B2||Mending B2|
|Navigation B2||Observation B3||Orienteering B2||Rigging B2||Skymanship B2|
|Sing B1||Stealthy B2|
1D Head Thumpers Union
1D Not the sharpest tool …
Cousin Leo (Felix Lyons; Fixer, Fence, Bloodloyal) (Minor, other family)
|Weapon Type||I||M||S||Add||VA||WS||Strike Dist|
Jakob was born into a small peasant community clinging to a fertile plateau far away to the east of Haven. He spent his youth tending sheep, to which he was well suited as he could scare off most predators just by being the giant that he was. Those he couldn’t scare off with his size tended to flee when he began swinging small trees at them.
Eventually an Arrow came to call upon the plateau for repairs and resupply. Jakob was fascinated by the craft. He sat watching it all day. That evening, while the crew was enjoying the local brew in the tavern, a freak windstorm crashed down upon the community. The Arrow’s moorings did not hold, and it began to drift across the field towards the cliff edge. Jakob dashed in amongst the snapping ropes, grabbed one, and dug in to keep the Arrow from blowing away long enough for the crew and villagers to rush out and secure the ship.
The captain took a shine to the massive lad, and offered him a berth upon his ship, The Devil’s Bodkin. Jakob immediately took him up on the offer. And almost as quickly began an unrepentant hero worship of the captain.
The ship was a privateer under letter of marque from Haven. Over the years Jakob worked hard, learned many new tasks, and became almost a mascot to the crew. He was truly happy. That is, until the Orc ambush.
The Devil’s Bodkin had put down at a watering hole to take on water. The terrain was barren and clear for miles around. They had used this site may times and were confident in their security.
Jakob carried an empty water cask on each shoulder down to the watering hole, and sat them down. He looked around at the forbidding landscape of sand dunes, and furled his brow in puzzlement. Jakob turned to the bosun beside him and pointed at the dunes.
“Too many lumps over yonder. It’s wrong. T’wern’t so many last…”
He broke off as the blackened arrow shaft sprang from the bosun’s throat. The extra “lumps” that seemed wrong to Jakob were several sand covered tarps with two score of orcs hidden underneath them.
The fighting was vicious and bloody. Twenty-four surprised sailors against forty prepared Orcs would seem to be a one-sided slaughter, but the marine commander was a paranoid sot who kept his marines at a constant state of ready. Add to that the mountain that is Jakob Samson, and it was a close battle. Very close.
In the end, only Jakob survived. He stood there holding a large chunk of bloody railing as a club, standing over the arrow riddled body of his captain. He stood there surrounded by the corpses of the last twelve orcs, who had thought they had won when they saw that only one man remained. He stood there as the fire shattered remains of the Devil’s Bodkin burned to ash at his back.