Battle Cleric of Cuiraécen
Kenrik was the third born son in a powerful bloodline. He grew up privileged and wanted for nothing during his youth. As he grew older his blooded nature became increasingly more apparent. He was perhaps the strongest of his brothers, but his birth order ensured he would never have to deal with the headaches of succession or the weight of any real responsibility.
His brother Oren, as the first born, was next in line take the reigns of lordship and spent his life being groomed for this task. Torvald, the second born, was quietly whisked away to the monasteries of Haelyn where he would be kept safe during these uncertain times. He would also be trained as a leader in case anything were to befall his brother.
Kenrik was allowed the most freedom. He enjoyed courtly life but also had the soul of an adventurer. At a young age he joined a mercenary company and quickly rose through the ranks. His future looked bright. During his tenure with this company he struck up a great friendship with the resident battle cleric of Cuiraécen. This man brought the teachings of his god through strength of his eloquent words and, when that failed, delivered it decisively with his warhammer.
Fate is funny sometimes and other times cruel. While on campaign, Kenrik received word Oren had fallen ill and the clerics could nothing to stem the disease that was slowly wasting him away. Kenrik made his way back to his family’s holdings as fast as he could but, by the time he arrived, Oren had passed. Torvald had been recalled back home to assume the role of his father’s protege.
Kenrik took leave from his mercenary company and returned home for a time. The weeks stretched into months. He quickly adjusted back to civilian life but still longed for something more. He understood his responsibilities and knew that the people needed a leader to guide and protect them. He also knew that Torvald would be that leader. Kenrik’s destiny lay elsewhere.
Entering the priesthood seemed right. He could make a difference but still receive the respect his birthright owed to him. It didn’t hurt that the particular order of Cuiraécen he followed was a bit more maverick than your typical order.
Years passed and, eventually, he found himself working with the same mercenary lord he had signed on with so many years past. Galloway had grown his small company to something much greater but he remained a fair but driven man. He had always had a vision of the future and, despite the bureaucracy and red tape he now endured, Galloway’s Six would ensure his place in history.