Hair: Short and unkempt hay stack blonde hair.
Build: Muscular, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest.
Skin Tone: Fair
Weight: 210 lbs
Voice: While his voice is deep, he speaks lowly so that sometimes you must strain to hear him.
Body Markings: On his rightmost breast is the sigil of the Order of the Stoic Shield. The sigil is an unadorned black shield.
Scar Tissue: Due to a childhood illness Hal's face is pock marked and scarred.
Name Halden Fynolt
Alias Hal Goodman
Visual Age 35-40
Factual Age 23
Sexual Orientation Heterosexual
Specialization Fallen Paladin/Knight
Moral Alignment Neutral Good
Quirks Appears gruff and hostile. Is a heavy drinker.
Fears Being recognized by members of his old order. Being dragged/drafted into a war or heavy conflict.
Goal Sell his shield-arm. Make gold. Get plastered.
Likes Honest men and women, hard work, strenuous physical activity.
Dislikes Deception, laziness, corruption, and bandits. He HATES bandits.
Strengths Hal is a hardy fellow with a stout constitution and a strong work ethic.
Weaknesses Hal's will is not as strong since his convictions as a Paladin have faltered and been cast aside.
[Perfect] - [Excellent] - [Good] - [Above Average] - [Average] - [Below Average] - [Poor] - [Very Poor]
[Below Average] Rusted and weather worn scale mail; there is a split in the skirt of his mail for maneuverability.
[Above Average] Well made leather boots with thick soles and accented with a weather resistant material.
Combat Prowess [Good] Hal has been trained with mace and shield to protect his allies and keep his foes at bay.
[Good] Die Hard- Hal can withstand a barrage of blows and remain standing where others would falter.
[Above Average] Toughness- Hal is tougher than normal and can take more damage than the common soldier.
[Above Average] Knockdown- With a shove Hal can use his shield to send enemies careening into walls or "knock them down."
[Above Average] Sunder Arms/Armor- Through his martial training Hal has learned to use his mace to crush enemy shields and weapons.
[Above Average]/[Poor] Heavy Handed- Hal adds extra force behind his blows; the down side? He often has trouble manipulating small and/or fine objects. Gentle is never a word that will be used to describe him.
[Very Poor] Heroic Aura- Once Hal could inspire his allies and intimidate his foes with his mere presence. This "spell" is lost to him.
[Good] Intimidate- Due to his scarred appearance and large stature Hal is able to send weak men running and make strong men pause.
[Average] Taunt- Hal can sometimes trick his opponent into attacking him by adopting an open and inviting stance or pretending to over extend himself.
[Below Average] Tumble- Due to Hal's stature he sometimes finds it hard to move through combat.
Weapons He carries a steel morningstar which was his weapon as a Paladin, though it has lost any properties granted by that class. An iron tower shield is strapped to his arm and a common longsword hangs from his waist via his baldric. Also on his waist, hanging from his belt next to a few pouches is a steel dagger.
Equipment A full wineskin and canteen, a 30-foot length of rope, rations, and various materials to keep his arms and armor in relatively good condition.
Accessories Around his neck is a golden sunburst representing Pelor, his god.
Group Affiliation N/A Neutral
Faction N/A Neutral
Marital Status Single
Relatives His father, Galden Fynolt, a noblemen and retired member of the Blackshields. His mother, Patricia Fynolt, a noblewoman; deceased. His older half-brother, Galden Fynolt II, his father's heir and a prominent member of the Blackshields. His younger brother, Galad Fynolt, a squire in the Order of the Stoic Shield.
Residence The Tipsy Trollop Tavern
Social Rank Exiled Nobleman
Occupation Bruiser, Sellsword
The cold wind ran along the high walls of Blackstone Keep, chilling the single guard who stood along it's parapet. His shoulders huddled and his breath fogging in front of his face, the guard opened a wineskin slowly, sure to have his back to the keep and any one that might be watching. His hands unsteady, the guard opened the wineskin and brought it to his lips, careful to not be greedy. As he took his long draught the first scream sounded. The guard jumped and the some of the wine spilled on his beard and the front of his white tabard.
There was another scream and another. The guard winced and tried not to think about what was happening inside the keep.
Liveried servants hustled to and fro, carrying basins of water and warm cloths to the Lady's chambers. Some of the servants stood to the side of the large hall at attention should they be needed.
A stout dwarven woman screeched orders at the hustling servants from the door of the chamber. Her face was beet red and her soft, delicate hands waved viciously as if she meant to strike the first person to meet her eyes or question the orders she gave with the authority of a High General from the back of a rearing red dragon.
Another scream resounded through out the hall and the dwarven mid-wife stopped squawking suddenly and hurried into the room. One of the servants standing at attention watched over her shoulder, and saw for a moment the red faced Lady Patricia with sweat and tears streaking her usually perfect face. Then the door slammed shut and silence reigned again for a few moments before another heart stopping scream rent the air.
Some hours later an exhausted Patricia passed her child to a nearby maiden, who would take him to the nurse. She turned to one of her ladies in waiting and let out a ragged whisper between heavy breaths. "He.. he's beautiful... D-did you see his g-golden hair and.. and those deep blue eyes?"
The lady in waiting mopped her mistresses forehead, "Aye, he's beautiful, milady, a right heart breaker he'll be one day. Just you wait and see.
Halden Fynolt was raised in Blackstone Keep to be courteous and honorable no matter the circumstance. That duty and order came first in his life. That serving the greater good was best achieved through law and unwavering determination. Blackstone Keep was a cold place, no matter how bright the hearth shined.
There was a single spark of warmth, and it came in the form of his mother, Lady Patricia. Her high and lilting laugh melted the snow that surrounded the hearts of the stoic stoic soldiers and gave life to his father's weary and lined face. For the first time since it's construction as a bastion of order and protection for surrounding villages, celebrations and festivities graced the keep. So not all was doom and gloom for the young Halden.
One fine summer day Halden, at the age of seven and just starting to learn combat from his elder brother, was showing off to his baby brother Galad. Who, while still in swaddling, followed Halden everywhere and worshiped the ground the young boy walked on. They were outside of the keep helping a few day laborers by carrying the spare item or two with self importance and vigor.
Halden, with a single wrapped candelabra in his arms, followed behind a man carrying a large crate when he heard a commotion behind him and turned to see his little brother in the path of a messenger galloping to the gate. Halden thew aside the candelabra and started pumping his short legs as fast as they would go towards his brother.
He watched in horror as the courser came nearer and nearer, he wasn't going to make it. When suddenly Galden, his half-brother, appeared from nowhere and scooped little Galad into his arms and stood in the path of the courser. The messenger pulled his reigns sharply and dismounted, his breathing heavy and his attire ragged.
Galden's gaze was menacing as the messenger came near. The messenger bowed his head and knelt, "Milord, the village of Rockhill has been beset by a savage sickness... There were no survivors."
It is important to note that while Blackstone Keep is within Cam Lire, they had been able to preserve their autonomy from the God King by not opposing him. However, with the sickness spreading into the keep itself and the clerics of Pelor powerless against this plague; the denizens of Blackstone Keep were forced to pledge allegiance to the God King or face extinction.
The cost of the sickness was high. The Paladins lost not only their autonomy, but the spark of life that Lady Patricia Fynolt's presence birthed. Her funeral was held outside of the recovering Halden's window. Galad was forced to watch from there as well, though his screams and cries could be heard by all of the men and women that stood vigil over the grave that night and on into the next morning. Halden did not cry, but sat up in his bed, holding his little brother throughout the night until he fell asleep the next day.
Years later Halden stood next to Galad during their yearly vigil over their mother's grave. They did not speak, only stood at the ready as the sun dipped into the western horizon and clouds began to build, obscuring the moon. The rain came hard and fast, yet the brothers stood. The next day Halden was knighted and his father retired.
Over the years of servitude to the God King the Blackshields became instruments of destruction and order. It was during a raid into the sanctum of a cabal of wizards that were outspoken against the God King that Galden and Halden, along with a dozen other knights, were ordered to massacre the traitors in front of their families. No one opposed the God King. Halden went to Galden afterward and told him that what they were doing was wrong. Galden looked him in the eye and coldly replied, "It is our duty."
That night Halden threw his unadorned black shield, the symbol of not only his order, but his family, into the moat and rode off into the night on his bay gelding, Valor.
He is Hal Goodman now and keeps mostly to himself, helping others when he can, but mostly hiring himself out as a guard and drinking himself into oblivion.
Build: Large and wide, as befitting a warhorse.
Height: 18 hands (6ft)
Weight: 800-1000 lbs
Body Markings: White spot on left rearmost hoof.
Scar Tissue: None
Age 4 years
[Good] Charge- Valor will rush forward on command, knocking aside any one in his path.
[Good] Stomp- Valor has been trained to attack enemy infantry by rearing and bringing his hooves down hard and fast.
Equipment A well made dark brown saddle.
Raised by horse trainers, with Hal as his only rider, at Blackstone Keep. His father was a farmer's prize possession, his mother was an unlucky filly.