Lars Beorning Scout

I was born 24 years ago, the third son of my family. We belonged to a Manor in the south of the Beorning lands, which had escaped the worst of the endless warfare which troubled my people.

The Manor was prosperous and happy. We had escaped the Great Plague which had swept the more populous lands, and we were relatively sheltered from our enemies.

Such good fortune is no excuse for inaction. We are sworn to fight the Darkness. Many of us journey to more troubled parts of the Beorning lands to fight under the waildanbair, the Beorning's leader. My uncle Olaf, the head of our family (second in importance in our Manor only to the ruling family), was one such warrior. He had fought Orcs in the Misty Mountains; fought even in the lands beyond the Mountains. He wielded a great sword, held by the head of our family for generations.

My brothers (Owein and Olaf) and I admired our Uncle Olaf. Our father had died in the West, and our Uncle looked after us. My brother Olaf (named by my father after my uncle) was raised to be the next head of the family. Owein trained as a warrior. I learned to scout.

One of my fellow young Scouts was Ulric. Blessed by fate with the power of Healing, Ulric was admired and loved by the people of the Manor. His brother Bors was not. Bors was ill-tempered, a strong fighter, and violent. He coveted the goods and fame of others. One night, drunk and angry, he challenged my Uncle to a fight, and attacked him. Even surprised and out of practice, my Uncle wielded his broadsword with great skill. He knocked Bors to the ground (though Bors was younger and heavier) - and Ulric fired an arrow at his back. It struck his neck, killing swiftly. Bors and Ulric fled. My brothers ran for their weapons, and to awaken the Manor, while I persued the fleeing brothers.

They went straight for their family farm, and rode off on horse-back. Neither could ride well, but they lost me. I ran back to the village, to discover that my Uncle's sword was gone.

We searched the area. The brothers were gone. My brothers lacked the skill to track them, and Olaf was now the head of the family. I decided I would have to find then, alone. The next day, I said goodbye, prayed to Orome, and went west.

Fell on his own spear, dashing the hopes of the party's survival. Then had his throat cut by the orc he had been fighting. Read about it in Session 10.

Lars Lars Page 1
Played by Dave