Bonded:

Harrowfen, Sera, Vicejaw, People of Timberhold

Backstory

I was a raider, not that long ago. I took what I wanted, enjoyed the fights, and the fucking, but that life is past me now. I want more.

A life like that, the highs are higher. times when we ate and drank and cavorted like kings and no one could stop us. but the lows are so much lower. Spent three weeks in a Hole once. You ever been so thirsty you tried to catch the piss of a drunk man taunting you? Sitting in your own filth day after day? I'll always miss it, but that doesn't mean I want to go back.

A Storm came through. We were on our way back to camp with a fat haul, ship was heavier than it should have been. Might've been karma, might've been dumb luck, but her keel cracked as we came over a monster of a wave. Most didn't have time to react when we hit the surface again and she split in two. I woke up on the shore some time later. Made my way back to camp, waited awhile, but no one else came back. While I sat there, dwelling on my own luck, I knew I couldn't let myself die in obscurity. Who would remember the name or face of a common raider? I will earn more. I vowed that my name would be come feared and respected throughout the Ironlands. Eventually the mead ran out and saltpork was the only thing left. I had to move on.

I wandered for awhile. Eventually found out people will pay you solve problems, whether coin, comfort, or other things we all need. Seems a good way to start building a reputation.