Rook

A Rugged Glaive who Employs Magnetism.

Description:

A giant of a man, standing tall at nearly 7 feet. Long hair held back by leather ties, grizzly beard, a tamed mess. Furrowing scars stand out among all the others going down his neck and down onto his chest. Where there are no scars, there are tattoos and brands, some have meaning, some are not any of your business.

Tier: 1
Effort: 2
XP: 2
Cypher Use: 2

Might 17 Edge 1
Speed 10 Edge 1
Intellect 7 Edge 0

Skills
(T – Trained, S – Specialized)

Climbing- T
Swimming- T
Jumping- S
Running- T
Training/Riding/Placating Animals- T
Identifying/Using Natural Plants- T
First Aid- T

Abilities

Practiced in Armor
Glaives can wear armor for long periods of time without tiring and can compensate for the slowed reactions from wearing armor. You can wear any kind of armor. You reduce the Might cost per hour for wearing armor and the Speed Pool reduction for wearing armor by 2.

Practiced with all Weapons
You can use any weapon.

Move Metal (1 Intellect point)
You can exert force on metal objects within short range for one round. Once activated, your power has an effective Might Pool of 10, a Might Edge of 1, and an Effort of 2 (approximately equal to the strength of a fit capable, adult human), and you can use it to move metal objects, push against metal objects, and so on. For example, in your round, you could lift and pull a light metal object anywhere within range to yourself or move a heavy object (like a piece of furniture) about 10 feet. This power lacks the fine control to wield a weapon or move objects with much speed, so in most situations, it’s not a means of attack. You can’t use this ability on your own body.

Inabilities

From Rugged Descriptor
“You have no social graces and prefer animals to people. The difficulty of any task involving charm, persuasion, etiquette, or deception is increased by one step.”

Fighting Moves

Bash (1 Might Point): This is a pummeling melee attack. Your attack inflicts 1 less point of damage than normal, but dazes your target for one round, during which time the difficulty of all tasks it performs is modified by one step to its detriment.

Pierce (1 Speed point): This is a well-aimed, penetrating ranged attack. You make an attack and inflict 1 additional point of damage if your weapon has a sharp point.

Gear:

Explorers Pack, Clothing, Warm Clothing, Sturdy Boots, 3 Spikes, Hammer, 2 50’ lengths of rope, 3 torches, 2 minor glow globes, 5 days rations

Weapons

Maul- Favored weapon, has “BFH” (BIG FUCKING HAMMER) Engraved on the face of the hammer’s head. Sometimes leaving legible imprints on his destroyed foes. Never leaves it behind. (Heavy)

Heavy Crossbow- Sometimes its better to soften up your enemies before they get to you. +12 Bolts (Heavy Ranged)

Pole Hammer- For proper mounted smashing (Med polearm)

Cyphers

Motion Sensor (level 1): This convex 12-sided synth-metal cube weighs 100kg and is a mere 4" per side thus making it quite dense, but easier to roll. The unit has a salvaged readout screen connected unevenly on one of the sides. When activated it indicates when any movement occurs within short range, or when large creatures or objects move within long range (the cyphers readout display distinguishes between the two). It also indicates the number and size of the creatures or objects in motion. Once activated, it operates for one hour.

Personal Environmental Shield (level 4): This is a silver “C” shaped belt buckle made of some round metal stock tube without any obvious sign of wear. When activated this cypher creates an aura of temperature and atmosphere that will sustain a human safely for 28 hours. The aura extends 0.3m around the user. It does not protect against sudden flashes of temperature change (such as from a heat ray).

Oddities:

Ring that moves itself from one finger to another daily.

Bio:

Rook was raised on the edge of the wilds at distant points between now unknown villages. His mother not surviving his birth, his father managed to somehow keep him alive. Rooks father, Rokor was a rough man who brooked no nonsense and expected his son to learn quickly. To survive he did.

Before he was big enough to walk he was out with his father doing what needed to be done. Strapped to his father’s back he saw things that normal men, city dwellers, would never fathom. From tending to the Aneen heard to dispatching a pack of Broken Hounds.

At an impossibly young age, Rook traversed the wilderness that surrounded his home. Learning from his father to set snares to put food on their table and traps to defend their home from things that would make a meal of them. Learning that some plants were food and others were poison His first pets to train as his own were a pair of Laaks. He was allowed to eventually breed and sell the trained lizard’s offspring.

People were a rarity, but being between two points or possibly more they did appear from time to time. About half of them never left again. Living in the wild and alone made them easy targets but Rokor was more then a match for any opportunist. He learned to hate strangers and trust was hard earned. Rook’s father taught him to fight and to defend himself, more often then not he had to use it against the wilds then anything with real intelligence.

Only one person had his father’s trust and he was a traveling merchant, a small man named Tanakka. He did not know of it, but suspected they had a shared past. This merchant would leave his guards at the road and take the half days journey to their homestead and deal with them privately, sometimes staying an evening or two. They traded skins, sometimes an aneen, Rook his Laaks when they were ready, and odds in ends that they had salvaged for things they couldn’t produce themselves. This merchant rode a strange machine and had weird trinkets that lit up or whirred, some had no apparent purpose… but he also had stories, stories of the fantastical Angulan Knights and their great xi-drake companions. He learned of the Numenera and the world through these stories.

Rook grew older, growing like a weed, a very large and thick weed. Adventuring further and further afield, learning to trust his instincts. And on his return home from an afternoons adventuring his father awaited him. Sitting at their table his father brought out a ring, it was his mother’s, Rokor told him. “Though you did not know her, this was hers. Wear it for her, once per day on its own accord it will more to another finger. Haven’t the faintest idea why, but she liked it.” He then stood and went to the linen hutch at the foot of his bed and pulled aside all that it contained and pulled out a hammer. Rook had never seen it before. Not just a regular hammer but a war maul. It had BFH engraved upon it, it was bad ass. “This was once mine, I was young once and strong enough to wield it properly… my Big Fucking Hammer is now yours,” he smiled wryly. “You will have a learning curve but i can already tell you will surpass me in its use, may it keep you safe.”

Rook couldn’t put his finger on it, but he suspected his father knew something was amiss. For the next day, when he returned to the homestead after checking the aneen herd he found his father, dead. He didn’t go peacefully, there was a battle. Rook immediately went to look for clues as to who or why, but only found blood splatters and broken furniture. Grabbing his BFH he left to follow the trail of tracks that led away from the home. Oddly enough they never went to the road, but he followed them doggedly. He followed them into the night and into the next day, tiring but not stopping. Slowly exhaustion began to take its tole.

On the third day, of no sleep, no food, and no water. Without seeing a single sign of who he was chasing. Watching directly in front of his feet, following the trail, not seeing his possible doom approaching. The dust and wind engulfed him. Even in his minds current fragility he knew it wasn’t a normal dust storm. For a time he seemed to cease to exist, except for the pain, there was lots of pain….

Later he would learn it was the fabled Iron Wind. It changed him physically pulling pieces of him apart and rebuilding him, making his body more efficient. He could run better, jump higher, and was stronger. Later he thought he had developed telekinesis, but after trial and error he discovered he had a mental magnetism. Emotionally, even though his father was just killed, he no longer wanted vengeance, he wanted justice. Maybe he would find it some day.

After being rebuilt and replenished by the storm… he had no idea where he was. The only thing he could think of was that he had traveled in the storm somehow or perhaps with it. By his mother’s ring if it was correct he had spent more then hours in agony, it had been days, or longer. It wasn’t time to ponder the past, however, it was time to move on.

After wandering the wastes, surviving off the land he eventually found civilization. For a while he tried to find jobs working with animals but eventually his physical attributes got him work much easier guarding caravans or being a body guard. A body guard gig was how he met Del, being stuck on a dig site he ended up doing more heavy lifting then guarding but he didn’t mind, he liked the work.

Woman on his familial homestead were among the rarest creatures to be seen. And those he did see weren’t really all that impressive, usually treated like chattel among the men. But, his father had taught him that was one of the ways he could judge a man, by how he treated the women in his care. Of course that learned lesson went askew when he discovered his first whore house. Rook spent his first month in “civilization” knee deep in pussy, working enough to get laid before going back out to look for more work. After a bad case of crabs, his vision cleared enough to see how the women were actually being treated. Lesson learned he moved on… maybe hating himself a little, knowing his father would be disappointed.

All that being said he felt he could trust women a little easier, and being stuck on that dig site and on the wrong side of a cave in with Del. Rook and Del survived by working together, by trusting one another, and his BFH.

Having survived and his charge with him, he was paid well. Deciding armor would have made his life a lot easier, he decided to find a crafter and found a shadow, or The Shadow as it were. Finding a bit of a kindred spirit in her, he trusted her instantly. Hopefully his trust won’t be unfounded, but in the mean time, he liked his Metal Weave Vest immensely.

And so it began…

Rook

Numenéra North travisspencer258