STR 14, DEX 12, CON 18, INT 11, WIS 12, CHA 8

FORT +8, REF +2, WILL +2, INIT +2, SPD 40

AC 14, HP 44, ALIGN CN

FEATS: Eagle Clan, Alertness, Weapon Focus (Greataxe), Endurance, Uncanny Dodge (Barbarian default)

SKILLS: Athletics +7, Acrobatics +6, Ituit. Direction +2, Intimidate +3, Awareness +9, Stealth +8, Ride +2, Wilderness Lore +6, Use Rope +4

RAGE: Once per day for 7 rounds with +2 to HP, +4 to STR/CON, +2 to WILL Saves and -2 to AC

EQUIPMENT: Leather Armour, Adamantine Long Axe of the Dwarflords

(+7 to hit, 1d12+2 dam), Throwing Axes (+3 to hit, 1d6+2 dam)

Origins/Diary

A brute, a boor, a braggart of limitless gall, a drinking and endurance champion, a heart that has known no love nor tenderness, a scapegoat, a fugitive, a walking insult, a Barbarian…..a CIMMERIAN.

Born in the time of plagues that ravaged the once strong Eagle Clan Ranth has been reviled since his misshapen head first was touched by the light. The Crones whisper that his mother coupled with a beguiling darkness in human form resulting in her beastly child and bringing the pox as Crom’s vengeance down upon the entire tribe.

At two, Ranth survived his Mother’s attempt at tribal redemption via drowning him in a freezing pond. Since that time the legend of his resilience has only grown.

As his years lengthened he grew stronger by the day and meaner by the hour. At seventeen he bested the adult drinking champion during the Dawn Festival, earning the title of Caskbane. At the Winter feast that same year he was the final man standing during the Iron Ring battle. He had defeated the strongest remaining warriors of the Tribe, not by skill nor strength, merely perseverance and an inhuman tolerance for pain.

Ranth was banished by the clan Elders the night of his triumph at the Winter Feast. He was accused of forcing himself upon a clean daughter of the Tribe. With no family willing to take up his cause and no companions to speak on his behalf he was cut loose to cast his shadow and stain upon the lands of other men.

Aimlessly he wandered from the hills of his people. Adventures and torments he has seen. His meager mirths have been far outshadowed by his deep melancholies.

He has found himself in the small hamlet of Delver’s Dale. Short of coin and befeft of ambition,he sullenly drinks to his god and tribe, broods on his vengance, spills his endless tales and awaits the new pain and dissapointments Crom has undoubtedly set in his path.