Valz Malar

[Valz Malar]

Player name: Matt
Character name: Valz Malar
Age: 33
Race: Human
Height: 6' 1"
Weight: 210 (ish)

Physical description:
Valz (sounds like "vowels" but harder, and shorter like a New Englander might say it) is a weather beaten 33-year-old traveler. Standing just over six feet and weighing around 210 (weight always fluctuates, especially when traveling) can be an empowering experience; Valz is not easily intimidated. Without specific threats to his person he generally wears simple wool with leather gaiters covering his ankles up to his knees (mud is a pain to get out of wool). If you were to look closely you might see the handle of a razor sharp stiletto peeking from underneath his belt; in general the stiletto is the only weapon he carries. However when trouble is brewing Valz will retrieve his hand and a half long sword that he had custom made; his sword, Animus, is simple, and unadorned (much like Valz), the last half foot of his sword curves back on itself making for a formidable weapon. Simple leather and chain armor protects him (focused especially on his throat and vitals) on occasions where it is necessary. In inclement weather or when blending in Valz covers himself with a dark green cloak and hood. Ragged scars on both cheeks are his only outward signs of previous battles. Dark, deep, unflinching eyes show both his lack of fear and confidence well; while brown close cropped hair tops his head. For such a big man Valz can blend into a crowd surprisingly well.

Possessions:
Animus, Valz's curved long sword, is his prized possession. Animus is a simple looking blade, which, upon closer examination, is revealed to be of very high quality. Animus is just long enough to require a back sheath. In addition Valz carries a stiletto for close in work and has some limited pieces of armor (leather breastplate, chain guard for his throat and plates for his gaiters...he carries everything he owns so no plate mail or full on chain mail). As befitting a traveler Valz doesn't own much, some Bishani, some food, matches, an extra change of clothes, water skins, etc., nothing unusual for a wanderer.

Powers and strengths:
Valz is strong, and isn't afraid to prove it. While no match for a troll or some other god-forsaken creature, Valz's wits, speed, agility, and experience more than make up for it. At 33, Valz is older than the average wanderer, which means he has had more life experiences (re: fights, and disappointments). His sword, Animus, has shed blood in the past and Valz is fully prepared to shed it again in the future. Although Animus is special, it is no way magical, simply well cared for.
Valz is a fighter, and knows what he is doing. He can use his hands, feet, elbows, head, knees or any other part of his body in unarmed combat (no formal training…unless brawling counts as “formal”). Valz easily pulls weapons from his surroundings, that rock by his hand, the chair he is sitting in, the long hair of his opponent. Whatever will hurt or cause pain in to his enemy is a weapon. In the process of becoming a good fighter Valz also learned about fear: his and his enemies. He learned that to show fear in the face of danger is to invite trouble and defeat. While wandering Valz has encountered many amazing things (see history) and hasn’t been afraid of one of them. By mastering his own fear Valz has been able to manipulate the odds in his favor. One of the ways that he does this is by striking without warning. It would be well within his frame of reference to walk into an unfriendly situation (say a hostile tavern room full of locals) and dominate it (as simply as walking up to the person eyeballing him and slamming his head into the table).
Valz is no magic user but does have some unusual traits and events that surround him. Firstly, he has an uncanny ability to disappear from view. Not invisible per se, just overlooked. It would be easy for a guard, even if looking for a 6’ 1” stranger to look right past him. While sitting silently in shadows he is virtually invisible to the naked eye. His only other “power” that is remotely “magical” is his related to his confidence. He has such unshakeable faith in his own abilities (within limits of reality….he knows he can’t fly…at least at 33) that whatever weapon he wields can damage enemies who wouldn’t normally be vulnerable to cold steel (see history for an example). This isn’t to say that these are the limit to his powers, only that these are the ones that he knows now. It is perfectly reasonable to think that with more practice and maybe a mentor that he may be able to physically control when others see him or his ability to hide in plain sight/shadows.

Weakness:
Extreme confidence can be a double-edged sword. You or I probably try to prevent overwhelming odds and/or grave danger, Valz, will not care, he takes things as they come and will take on, and die trying, a whole gang of people if it is necessary. Fatalism (a weakness in itself) guides him, and he knows that he will probably die a horrible death at some point…but that is life to Valz.
A strong sense of what is “right” occasionally has caused Valz to get into trouble that is none of his business. Although, brutal and unforgiving, Valz can be very caring and sympathetic. He is like a tragic hero, willing to die for some one whom he barely knows.
Valz has an authority issue. He feels authority cost him his youth and now he has now qualms circumventing the appropriate authorities even when their help could be beneficial.

History:
Valz grew up in a normal, hard working farming family along what we would call the Caspian Sea just outside a village called Shava. With three older brothers and a younger sister Valz had plenty of opportunities to prove to the Shavanese kids that he was as strong as he looked. Shava, a village of about 1,000 was run, at the time, by a two-bit mercenary captain who provided protection to the village and the surrounding areas. One afternoon when Valz was about fourteen he was standing in an alley off the trading square in Shava watching the crowds cry out their wares and conduct transactions. Of course no one noticed him standing there. He heard a noise behind him, turned, looking down the alley, and noticed two boys harassing a village girl. The harassment quickly turned more serious, bordering on rape, and before Valz knew what he was doing one boy lay dying with a crushed throat and the other clutched a now useless arm, broken in multiple places. The girls screams, dying boys gurgling, and the crying of the one with the broken arm brought the city guard; which didn’t take kindly to seeing their Captain’s son dead on the street before them. Valz (who wasn’t as pig-headed at this point) promptly ran straight for his father. His father sensing the urgency and severity of the situation shuffled Valz off the farm, handed him some Bishani, a knife, some food, and with the clothes on his back, told him to seek out a distant cousin in the nearby city of Dusk. With his fathers parting words, “Son, you did the right thing, standing up for her like that”, ringing in his ears Valz found himself alone for the first time in his life.
Valz made his way to the city of Dusk, amazed at its size (nearly 5,000 people), amazed that walls surrounded the entire city, and blown away by the things he saw there, Elves, Bards, men and women of all types, and even a Troll. His Cousin was not thrilled at the prospect of feeding another mouth but did it anyway. Valz spent almost five years doing random manual labor for his Cousin and his friends, earning a few Bishani for himself. When he heard a merchant was looking for guards Valz jumped at the chance for some excitement, bought a cheap short sword and shield and signed on as a guard. Looking back Valz thought he should have known something was wrong, one wagon with five guards, four of whom knew each other, should have been suspicious. Valz was big and strong and would have fetched a good price if the guards and merchant could have met up with the Orc band, who were always looking for strong workers for their mines. After three days in the woods without being told where they were going, or what they were doing Valz got suspicious and checked on the cargo…there was none. He managed to escape by killing the merchant and one of the guards while they all sat around the fire. The other guards were so shocked that they couldn’t do more than loose a few crossbow quarrels at him. Luckily for Valz the Gnomish gun they had thought to use to bring him down exploded wounding the other three. Not so lucky for him was the crossbow bolt that Valz found sticking through his face, in one cheek and out the other, just barely grazing his tongue. Furious at the pain that he was in and the fact that they played him for a fool Valz pushed the bolt through, shoved some wool in the holes and circled back to the camp. Coming upon the three remaining guards (the shooter’s face and hands burned, the other two with minor scratches) burying their dead, Valz waited and watched from the shadows of the forest. After watching for a few minutes Valz came up out of the shadows like a vengeful demon. Two of the guards received mortal wounds before they could even defend themselves and third begged for his life, relaying to Valz that it was the merchants plan to sell him into slavery. Valz cut his throat. Gathering the few Bishani on each man and the few items worth selling, Valz attempted to clean the blood from his clothes and body in a stream and headed back for Dusk.
Upon his return to Dusk, Valz used what little wealth he had to pay for a healer to prevent infection and to get some new clothes. The healer, impressed with the young man’s resilience and fortitude, introduced him to a true merchant, and friend, John the Candle. John, an up and coming merchant had seen another merchant friend die at the hands of mutual rivals (Dusk is a dangerous city) and decided he needed protection. The next day he was introduced to a formidable looking young man named Valz. John became Valz’s patron, mentor, and friend, and in return Valz guarded his life and property. For ten years the two grew together, Valz received formal training in swordsmanship, and protected his patron from dangers, mainly other merchants. During this time Dusk doubled in size, and John the Candle (who made his start selling candles he made in the market) prospered. Valz sent messages to the competition by beating minor footpads sent to make life hard for John’s patrons. But as the two grew and time passed, so grew the threats. From a hired band of thieves to a shape-shifting assassin, Valz was able to cut them all down, but it became increasingly apparent that Valz alone could not do the job of protecting John. In recognition of ten years of faithful service John awarded Valz with a magnificent long blade, simple, utilitarian, yet an undeniably excellent tool…Animus. While Valz was with the swords smith, and attempting to recruit some additional help for guarding John he heard rumors of a great fire. Looking outside he noticed smoke pillars in the sky near John’s warehouses and home. Making his was to the scene; Valz knew that he had failed. John the Candles body was on fire, torn in two outside one of his warehouses.
Valz had few friends that he could turn to, so days and nights were spent raging about his failure. No one in Dusk knew for sure what happened that summer, but for the entire season death walked the night. Come morning merchants bodies would be found cut to pieces, bodyguards would be scared to take commissions, and warehouses, wagons, and homes burned in an orgy of arson and death. Before long, fall approached and Valz felt content, although he was unable to protect John the Candle in life, he exacted a terrible price for his death. One morning the city awoke to no dead bodies in the streets, no torched buildings, and no Valz Malar; his house empty, all his possessions untouched, only his sword was missing. For all anyone knew Valz Malar was dead. Gone, dead, it made no difference to them.
Valz wandered the world, sleeping under bushes, in stables, doing odd jobs, guarding random shipments, simply surviving. For four years Valz traipsed around avoiding trouble when he could, ending it when he couldn’t avoid it. Many villagers chased him out, or wouldn’t even let him past their walls, some welcomed him with open arms. One encounter stands out as both a testament to his lack of fear, and his abilities with Animus. Once, late into fall, Valz found himself sitting in a common room of a rundown travelers house along a river. This village wasn’t like many of the others he had been through. It wasn’t much of a village at all, merely a small collection of houses with one travelers house. As Valz sat drinking a local man came in with eyes watering. He sat on a bench near Valz, without even noticing him. Quickly the man fell into an easily overheard conversation with another local. When all was said and done, Valz’s blood was up; these villagers had lived in fear for years. A local man had drowned in the river, yet as his body lay waiting to be consumed by the fires of his funeral pyre his body rose. For two years this abomination had demanded sacrifices while his body slowly, unnaturally rot. After a month three of the men got together with torches, knives, and scythes and went after the demon spawn. Only one returned grievously wounded. He mumbled about knives that cut the drowned man, but didn’t hurt, about fire that lit his clothes but didn’t consume his body. Shortly after his return, the man succumbed to his wounds and was given to the fire. Once a month since then the drowned body would come into town demanding blood, human, large animal, stranger, it didn’t matter, blood is what mattered. At dawn the beast had come to town and taken the mans daughter. Valz leaned over, which startled the two men who hadn’t noticed him at all, and asked where this beast lived. The men looked Valz up and down, noticed his sword, gave him a warning nod, and said that the beast lived in cave overlooking the river. Valz started walking.
The smell of dead flesh became progressively stronger as Valz approached the cave. The beast seemed to know he was coming, its flesh rotting off his face. Sharp claws dug into a small arm bone he was holding. As it caught sight of Valz approaching, chest covered in leather, throat protected with chain, Animus unsheathed the beast laughed a reedy, wispy laugh through a water-logged voice box. Clearly unconcerned with Valz’s sudden appearance, the beast lazily dropped the arm bone and picked up a thighbone from a massive ox to use as a club...
Valz returned to the common room and threw the beasts head onto the floor. He was welcomed as a hero…for a few days, and then he was shown the door, just at the onset of winter. It was a particularly harsh winter that Valz spent sheltering in the hollow bowels of a massive tree, subsisting on charity and foraged food. After winter broke, Valz realized that he would never be accepted or welcomed without roots. So he began to make his way north and west across a desolate waste towards a new future, towards Marn.