The dreaded Bandit who terrorized Fenn, Adrick the Impaler, was a deadly thug who traveled between Fenn, Renantus, and Aegrothond killing, pillaging and stealing. He became renown for his custom deer skull helmet, blood-stained studded leather armor and horrifying halberd made of bones that he wielded all while he ambushed merchants and travelers as well as his trademark of leaving his victims impaled and hung with his halberd like a crude puppet on a stand. Ridding the midnight black steed, Anima, he moved like the shadow of the raindrops whenever night came. The clever man with his bandit camp knew when and where the most lucrative targets would be and sold by his underlings. He managed to strike terror into the hearts of many since no one knew his face or his voice, only that horrid laughter coming from the deer skull on horseback.
All of this would change, however, when the guards from the Duchy of Adria captured some spies that used to be apart of Roland’s bandit group and, after weeks of interrogation and negotiations, revealed where the monster of a human resided. He hid within the independent kingdom of Curonia, using the political ‘shield’ to prevent guards from investigation his whereabouts there and exploiting the use of an abandoned mine shaft. not far from the border of the kingdom to travel discreetly. With this knowledge, the guards sent the news to Lord Pierce I’s guards and prepared an ambush for the thief at the entrance of the mineshaft. After three days of waiting, the trap sprung on Adrick and his companions, arrows, and spells flying through the air and obliterating an eighth of his traveling party, losing all of the loot he had managed to steal.
In a rush, Adrick rode his horse through the land, laughing his horrible laugh as a thunderstorm rolled in, lighting clashing against the night sky and rain hailing down upon everyone. This was planned, however as a group of Evocation mages prepared their spell at a chokepoint not far from a cliffside that would normally allow the bandit to escape. In a flash of voidal fire, Anima burst into flames and threw the Adrick off of the cliff, plummeting him down into the crashing waves below where he was presumed dead. This, however, couldn’t be further from the truth.
Washing up on a shore East of Hanseti-Ruska, Adrick slowly picked his body up, quickly removing his weighted down clothing and leaving nothing but his leather tunic and slacks, he traveled North into the desert in hopes of fully losing the guards that hunted him down. After several days out in the sun, the failed bandit eventually collapsed, cursing the lords of Fenn, Renantus, Aegrothond and most importantly Adria before losing consciousness and letting out one last groan of defiance. By the time he awoke again, he felt hands run along his frame and leaped up, startling the desert looter into bashing Adrick’s head with a club, knocking him unconscious once again.
An unknown amount of time passed before consciousness returned to him, though now his past had left him. His memory appeared to be blank, what had happened before waking up all gone save for the Duchy of Adria and the name Roland Windblade. Eventually, he had learned that the looter who had knocked him out instead brought him back to their tiny village out of guilt and nursed him back to health with his grandmother’s help. There, he learned the virtues of Honor, Humility, and Honesty while beginning his life as a farmer within the kingdom. This life would not be forever, however, as bandits attacked the small village and destroyed it overnight, slaughtering everyone. Though he had done his best Adrick, now Roland Windblade, fought off the bandits with a pitchfork and a lid from one of the smashed barrels only to fall to several arrows colliding into his chest. He had failed in saving anyone and seemed to be greeting death as a result.
As fate would have it, however, his time was not up as a traveling Monk saved his life and tended to his many wounds. Throughout his recovery, the Monk explained to him that his soul burned with a strange flame that was thought to be his passion, but could be related to something far more dangerous if not handled carefully. And so, Roland traveled East to the Cloud Temple, in hopes of learning if this flame was metaphorical or spiritual. His dirty, shoulder-length sun-bleached blond hair flowing in the wind, the damaged leather tunic and slacks torn from arrows and swords exposing his body, those piercing sky blue eyes that looked on with a steel-like determination and his strong, angled jaw covered in a light golden fur that traveled from his sideburns and surrounded his lips.
