In Victory's Shadow - A Barbarian Warlord Quest

For the most part, the world moved in predictable cycles. Every day, the sun would rise and set. Every month, the moon would wax and wane. Every winter had a spring following it. And every few decades, the northern wastelands would have a Khan emerge and terrorize the kingdoms of man before being defeated. The people doing the defeating would be hailed as heroes, peace returned to the realms and all would be in order again.

And on the other side of the battle lines? Well. You too had a pattern to play out.

Of course, that had not been on your mind when you had joined up with Khan Doru. One does not join a warband expecting it to fail. On the face of it, his story was not exceptional. A former slave turned warlord, gathering allies and subjugating foes into his own forces. That is what they all did and every time there was someone who gathered a large enough host, they would inevitably turn their eyes to the lush lands of the south and promise to carve a new homeland for their soldiers out of the rotten and decadent realms crushed beneath their boots. And they all failed.

This time though, you all believed that Fate would have been on your side. Sure. Claiming so was not unusual either, but this time there was an actual Prophecy and every soothsayer, shaman, sorcerer and sage had been reading the same tale from every fish gut, star constellation and mushroom fueled vision. A great leader would emerge from the wastes, hailed as the unifier of his people, and the southern realms would kneel before him in supplication.

It was those portends that convinced you of joining him instead of trying to keep your independence as one of the...

[] [Origin] ... Mountain Clans.
Your people had always been quarrelsome and fiercely independent, often being the last ones to resist a nascent Khans effort to unite the wastelands and the only ones to actually succeed at it more often than not. Living in the high valleys of the Crunugora mountains dividing the south and the north, you were not quite belonging to either side of the eternal conflict, raiding and allying with whoever was the most convenient at the time. You knew the south like few other wastelanders, often fighting as mercenaries in their wars, but always denied a chance to settle in the fertile lands for being considered worthless barbarians. Joining Khan Doru was just a means to finally claim the prize that no southern king ever was willing to grant you.
Skills: Warcraft+, Diplomacy+, Trade+

[] [Origin] ... Sorcerer Kings.
Derisively called Mud Kings by many for ruling in the wetlands of Zelenbahno, few would dare to do so to your face. Your homelands were defined by the cults, witches covens and millenia worth of ruins raised by ambition and reclaimed by the uncaring waters. Wielding ancient mysteries and sorcereries unbound by the rules and dogmas of the southern faiths and academies, you were a terror on the battlefield and staying on top of some of the most ambitious people imaginable also taught you to lead. Most Khans considered people like you dangers to their own rule, though Khan Doru was much more sure of himself. He promised you a chance to plunder the vaults of the southern academies and there could hardly have been a greater reward than that.
Skills: Sorcery++, Leadership+

[X] [Origin] ... Caribou Riders.
Living in the far flung and wild forests of Vililesni with your herds of caribou made you a hardy people. Sweltering heat in the summers, icy cold in the winter and the dark things prowling the nights saw to that. The southerners feared you for it and had build great walls along the frontier just to keep you from wintering in their lands and raiding their farmsteads at a time when their own warriors were ill equipped to fight back. But it was never their lands your people coveted and Khan Doru knew as much. While his other followers dreamed of ruling the south, you just craved its riches. You dreamed of a great city rising in the north. Sturdy walls of stone and iron rising from the wilderness. A gleaming light to push back the darkness of your homelands. A dream as old as it had always seemed impossible.
Skills: Prowess++, Warcraft+

[] [Origin] ... Sea Clans.
From the storm swept beaches and fernlands of the Cervenybreh shores, your people have travelled the western sea for as long as memory reaches back. The salty soil never provided for you and so you leaned to eek out a meagre living from fishing, piracy and trade. Travelling from the southern kingdoms all the way to the endless forests of the far north, your ships were both feared and coveted as they could carry a bounty of furs and amber just as likely as they would bring raiders. To sail for Khan Doru was an easy choice. The prospect of plunder alone could have motivated you already, but he promised even more. The merchant houses of the south brought low, their palaces burned and their cities becoming the new home of the clans.
Skills: Prowess+, Leadership+, Trade+

[] [Origin] ... Vulture Priests.
Life in the endless, arid steppes of Plavylug is often short and brutal as nomads, warlords and petty, tribal fiefs fight one another for the scarce food, water and wealth to be found. And among them, people like you travel from court to court, bearing the name of Vulture Priest with pride instead of the derision many speak it with. Offering wisdom and trying to unravel the twisted paths of Fate for all who have the silver to pay for your services, you have travelled far and wide through the wastes. For many like you, it was only a matter of time until they entered the service of Khan Doru and as long as he had the coin, you gladly served him. Had you just heeded the strange feeling that what all the others read from the portends was not quite correct, even if it meant offending the Khan who had been so generous to you.
Skills: Sorcery+, Intrigue+, Learning+

You truly believed his promises. In some moments, you even believed his vision for a time in which the southerners would kneel to northern kings. How could you not? It was appealing to imagine the fortunes of the world turning in ones favour. To, for once, be the people that Fate and the gods favoured.

And then he died. And everything was just as it always had been.

The details eluded you. In the end, you had to admit that you had not been that great of a figure in his war host. Not one of the inner circle of the most powerful leaders who had sworn themselves to him. Which, armed with hindsight as you were, was a good thing. Most of them were dead too, while you had been just unimportant enough to survive...

[X] [Defeat] ... the roving band of heroes fighting through them one by one.
There had been no real rhyme or reason when they would strike. For all that everyone had known, the small group seemed to have almost bumbled from one place to the next, yet unerringly met and fought the most important servants of Khal Doru one after another. They were taking the lives of outriders, sorcerers, clan elders and finally the Khan himself as if the vast army he had amassed meant nothing. And then they just left, marching back south to be showered in gold and accolades no doubt. In their wake, the Khan's once mighty host was left in disarray and you could watch day by day as its members just wandered off and disappeared, turning to petty banditry for lack of any other option.

[] [Defeat] ... when a southern army crushed the Khans main host.
It had been a battle for the ages. One the chroniclers would spend oceans of ink to immortalise. Swift nomad raiders harassing the southern armies while the charge of heavy horses made clansmen lines quiver at their approach. Sorcerers called down fire and thunder, taking a bloody toll from both sides, yet even their might turned into a trickle as arrows blotted out the sun and thousands of man clashed with blade and spear. But it was not the Khan who carried the day. The southern armies leader challenged him in the midst of battle and when it was done, the Khan was no more. His host broke at the sight of his severed head and soon it had splintered into hundreds, each led by whoever could wield so much as a shred of authority.

[] [Defeat] ... the Khans grand ritual failed and the backlash killed them all.
Darkest magic, forbidden and forgotten in ages past. It had meant to be his greatest weapon. One which surely would have been enough to break even the mighty hosts of the south. The greatest sorcerers and priests were to conduct it and most of the Khans inner circle was in attendance to witness the event. But they only summoned their own ruin. Some of the prisoners meant as sacrifices managed to escape and the chaos of the ensuing fight led to the rituals unravelling. Arcane energies devastated the land for miles and few escaped the event to tell the tale. The Khans host was largely untouched by the event though and there soon were whispers that its remaining leaders would convene to debate about the future. Perhaps a new Khan would rise soon.

[] [Defeat] ... something turned them against each other and the warhost destroyed itself.
At the time, the events seemed harmless. Every warlord had to deal with grumbling amongst their host and one as great and varied as that of Khan Doru had it even worse. But things did not stay at grumbling. The unrest spread from camp to camp, their leaders speaking of treachery and betrayal by the Khan that had been revealed to them by trustworthy allies. It had soon become so bad that the campaign seemed on the verge of faltering, leading to Doru calling for a meeting of all leaders where they could speak their grievances. It was his last mistake. The Khan was killed by his own subordinates and before his body had even cooled, they had all stormed off to gather their own hosts. They were all certain that a new Khan was needed and only the field of battle would suffice to prove who was the worthiest.

Now, you were just one of many wasterlanders once more. Just one…

[] [Gender] … man…

[X] [Gender] … woman…

[] [Gender] … person…

… among many trying to make it through the chaos left in the wake of a warlords death. The future was uncertain and it seemed Fate was all too eager to play cruel games once more.

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AN: Something small and limited in scope that I cooked up to get through my writers block. There will be one more character generation vote after this that will go into further detail, while this one will only establish the very rough lay of the land.

Name: Ruoksaiti
Gender: Female
Ethnicity: Caribou Riders - Matki Vetka
Affiliation: Sakka Jostil Tribe
Patron God: Hora, the Smith and Warrior
Steed: Guoika (War Caribou)

Skills

Prowess: Expert (3d10)
Warcraft: Proficient (3d8)
Trade: Novice (3d4)
Administration: Novice (3d4)
Leadership: Skilled (3d6)
Diplomacy: Novice (3d4)
Intrigue: Novice (3d4)
Learning: Novice (3d4)
Sorcery: Novice (3d4)

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Sakka Jostil Tribe

Rukses Gahpir Tribe

Cappat Sealgi



Minor Raid

Major Raid

Devastating Raid

Minor Occupation

Major Occupation

Breakthrough