Born as the son of an Order of the Crow knight, Lord Viktor Templar of the West, in a forest village north of Haense. His mother Lady Tirsa died in childbirth leaving the parental role expressly to Lord Viktor. While growing up was taught the skill of hunting, fishing, and the skills of stealth and survival. From a young age hunting, fishing, and chopping of timber in the northern forests was the choice work conducted to make a living and thus the natural choice of weaponry became the bow and axe unlike Lord Viktor who preferred the longsword. Taking a preference to the utility of the axe in the quick slicing motions of the swing in comparison to the long graceful nature of the sword. The axe is a direct comparison to his character, focusing on utility over grace and traditions. Based on his set of skills growing up, his ambitions naturally were to become a ranger scout for the Haense kingdom while serving to help out citizens on quests, message delivery to other kingdoms, and as personal guard for hire. From his nature growing up as a journeyman has grown accustomed to the different cultures of each province traveling around to sell his fish and hides. Born the son of an Order of the Crow Knight, has grown up with the belief in God, Honor, Justice, Chivalry, and Loyalty. Unlike the typical Hansetian love for drink and merriment, growing up away from that culture he prefers to stay quiet and observant in taverns silently making sure the peace is upheld while also ogling the fine women in the establishment.
While camping in the northern pinewoods of Haense a group of travelers lit up a campfire in the dead of the winter night to keep warm, telling stories of their travels along their quest. Cheerfully drinking pints, expressing their merriment. A member of the group heard a crackling in the treeline and looked sharply into the dead dark night and sword he could see eyes looking back at him. As soon as he saw them however they were gone just as fast. Convinced the ale had gone to his head his attention focused back on the merriment, however the dreading unnatural sense that eyes were watching him while his back was turned stayed prevalent throughout the rest of the night. A sharp howl screeched through the night sky as the band of adventurers quickly jumped to their feet grabbing anything they could at their disposal in defense of their lives. However as the adventures soon realized pressed with their backs together they were surrounded and outnumbered 3 to 1 by wolves hungry and attracted to the warm smoke caused by their fire... a rookie mistake. Preparing to accept their fate and take as many of the howling mongrels with them as they could just as the first wolf leapt through the air the party members heard a *WHIZZ* and a *THWUMP* as the wolf fell to the ground at their feet. Standing in disbelief as the sound of more whizzes sharply shot through the air above them. The party quickly ducked to the knees covering their heads with their arms as wolves growled, whined, and fell around them with the remaining running into dark treeline to escape. As the quiet of the night soon embraced them the group finally gained the courage to look up to see an armor clad ranger, longbow in hand, watching his cowl flutter in the winter wind. The group stared waiting for the stranger to make a sound for what felt like minutes. They noticed the sharp war-axe hilted at his side, sharpened with a pike hanging out the back of the head of the axe. The bravest member of the group inched forth stuttering full of adrenaline still, “W-what are you?” Another small silence commenced until the figure shifted his head upwards to the stars and back down at the group. “It’s unwise to light a fire in these woods at this time of night. There are far greater dangers than wolves in these forests.” Another member of the group finding the courage to step forward now. “S-sir, what is your name?” The figure shifted as if thinking, “You can call me... 0zark.” From thereon out legend of the ranger who stalks the northern forest of Haense was born. Folks told their stories in express exaggeration next to the fire ale in hand in the tavern... while a lone figure sat in the corner watching, listening to the tales.
Nobody knows the true name of the Ranger known to those as 0zark. Then again true names are unimportant. It’s the legacies the names hold that matter. To those with observant eyes he can often be seen lurking about the city silently observing, as well as traveling the landscape with a couple party members on a quest, or located in a scouts forward operating tower observing neighboring threats.