The Winter Lords (Ranger)

Thorsten the Red

Thorsten came of age in the Winters Dark. Born in that world of snow and darkness, he knew no other. His was a simple life, raised in the deeps of the Eldwood, far from the haunts of men, living with his people in a small village nestled in the Valley of Atheul. As a youth, he took to the hunt like few others. He learned the ways of the forest, speaking its language, unraveling its riddles; in hunting beasts he excelled and before 15 many looked to him for wild deer and boar. He trafficked with the wood elves who dwelt there, learning their language and even greater skills at moving through the night and in the shadows of trees.

Few bothered the people of the Eldwood. That ancient forest, ringed by a wall of densely packed scrub oaks, briars and bramble entering the wood proved a difficult task, impossible for large bodies of troops. So the Lords of Aufstrag looked beyond it for the most part and in the Winter Dark the Eldwood and those who dwelt there lived in relative peace.

But there came time several hundred years after the rise of Unklar and the beginning of the Long Winter, that men entered the forest to hunt the many beasts that dwelt there and to put an end to whatever freedom the denizens of the Eldwood enjoyed. These hunters were skilled rangers, warriors, and mercenaries and they moved quickly, attacking settlements and burning houses, scattered the elves that came against them and killing any druids they came across. So rapid and unexpected the onslaught threw all the people of the Eldwood into disarray and they scattered to the deeps, the coast and even some into the mires that were those days the deltas of the Ardeen river.

At this time Thorsten traveled alone, hunting a large buck in the south of the wood, hoping to score its antlers as a token to sacrifice to the Og Aust. After 11 days on the trail he turned for home. What he found there was a ruin. The Valley plundered, the village burnt, its wall pulled down, its houses ransacked and destroyed. The dead were everywhere. Some fought, others fled, and some died without a struggle. The story of the battle unfolded in the snow and blood and after only a little while Thorsten knew who had come, how many and how many of his people they carted off to slavery.

He searched the ruin and found no sign of his family. No sign of their death or capture. He searched for hours, through the wreck of his home, around the valley and into the wood. He followed the spore of the raiders for a few miles and still no sign of his people. He became mad with grief. Returning to the village he trailed again and found nothing of them. At last after two days he collapsed in exhaustion and slept.

He dreamed of crows and he woke the birds had settled all about the field. These were Heths birds he knew. They came to guide the dead to the afterlife, to help them on their way to judgment and weather bound for the Stone Fields or the Wretch Plains none could say. But the birds spoke to Thorsten and he knew then that his family would never be found again, not amongst the living, not until the Gonfed and the end of the world.

And a madness took him.

His journey was wild and reckless and he gave no heed to his own trail but followed the raiders through the forest. He came upon them suddenly in the midst of a great camp and feast. Over forty men and orcs gathered around the fire and the laughed at the pain inflicted on some fallen soul strapped to a post in the blazes midst. Others he saw bound and tied.

So sudden was his onslaught that the first half dozen orcs were dead before they knew what hit them. Some laughed while others cursed to see such a sight and some began to flee for fear that others must surely follow this lone man. But Thorsten cared not. With sword and dagger he carved a red ruin through the foe. Some more fell, others staggered back wounded. A great chief who lunged at him fell as quickly, his guts split from the ruin of steel. He cut his way through and by chance chased a man in leather armor into the woods; his head split in a downward blow. Turning he saw the greater part of the raiders gathering.

Sheathing his blade he swung his bow around. Cloth-hide shafts cut the night’s air and more raiders died. The first fell with an arrow through the throat, another with two arrows in his chest and stomach, a man in breast plate and helm with an arrow through his groin. Some began to flee; several more died, until in the end only a smattered left, cursing and screaming at their tormentor. And Thorsten in a haze attacked the knot of them and laid them low with sword and dirk.

When all was done he staggered about the camp; drunk on death. He freed the captives, sending them home. In the end only he and a mangy wolf remained. The beast was tied, tormented with hunger, thirst; its red fur burnt and stained a deeper red from his tormentors. Thorsten thought to kill the beast but freed it instead. He ate then and drank the raiders brew and took an oath that never would he rest until all the servants of Aufstrag perished. The wolf he fed on the remains of the slain and it ate its fill.

So Thorsten’s war began.

For years he hunted the servants of the dark. Killing them everywhere he found them. He hunted them in the Eldwood, the Darkenfold and even into deeps of the Plains of Lothian. Ever with him came his wolf and the beast grew mighty in stature and form so that in time it dwarfed even the dire wolves of the far north. The two hunted; killing the servants of Aufstrag in open battle, or slaying them in their sleep. It was called by men the Carnival of Slaughter for none could stand against them and all died at the hand of his madness. Thus it was for years and he earned the name Thorsten the Red.

How he fell or whither he went at last none could tell. Some spoke of a poisoned arrow that took him through the throat; others claimed the orcs took him and the wolf and burned them alive. But some say he died upon a great field of slaughter and that the wolf alone survived and that it devoured Thorsten in the end, filling itself with the lust of his slaughter and thus the two continued the hunt, ever hounding the servants of darkness and men call on the Red Wolf when evil comes hunting, and for those so lucky the beast falls upon their foes and devours them.