BoL hero: Ulf the left handed

Ulf the left handed

Ulf shuffled into the elegant throne room. The heavy chain connecting the manacles around his ankles rang as it bounced over the tiled floor.

Dropping onto his knees the big Valkarian knelt before the veiled and bejeweled woman who sat perched on her cushioned throne.

He didn't dare look at her, but kept his eyes focused on the multi-coloured mosaic on the floor before him.

"You summoned me, mistress?" he asked.

Behind him he heard a sharp intake of breath from the palace guard who had herded him through the halls and corridors into this gilded room.

He could imagine the ebony-skinned giant behind him, clad in the flowing red and gold robes and turban and armed with one of the massive falcions all of the guards carried.

He'd been in the Jazalan palace for close to two months, ever since he and the rest of the crew had been defeated and captured. And he still hadn't grasped the myriad customs of the bloody place.

Finally the woman before him spoke. "You dare address me, slave? You, a worthless barbarian dared address the Grand Vizeer's wife?"

Her voice was throaty and rich like amber wine, even with the thick Jazalan accent. Ulf had picked up enough of the language - first on board the galley as a rower and then later in the grand city - to understand her.

"Forgive me mistress," he answered. This time the intake of breath behind him had more frustration than surprise in it.

The Vizeer's wife stood. She was clad in the flowing, shapeless gowns all women wore when in public while a thin, gauzy veiled hid her face, letting only titillating glimpses of glossy, raven hair and high, arched features.

The barbarian gazed up at the woman as she approached, her silken slippers making only the lightest of sounds on the tiles.

Suddenly one of the tiny feet flashed out, smashing full into Ulf's face .

Dazed by the, albeit weak, blow he put up no resistance when she suddenly grabbed a hank of his straw-coloured beard and pulled his face up so he looked directly into the veil.

Unlike the locals the brawny warrior from the icy wastes had hair and beard the colour of dirty, yellow-brown straw and ruddy skin.

His once wild masses of hair had been trimmed and his beard had been cropped close by the slavers but there was still enough for the woman to grab onto.

"No slave ever dares speak to me without my permission," she growled.

"Do you understand, swine?"

Still gripped by the beard, Ulf nodded mutely.

"Good. Palz, give him five lashes for speaking the first time and 10 for being a stupid swine."

Chained hand and foot Ulf could do nothing as the guard behind him kicked him to the floor and slit his brief slave tunic down the back.

His mistress looked on, arms folded as the heavy quirt rose and fell.

Each lash was an explosion of pain but the barbarian refused to cry out. This palace dwelling pansy knew nothing of pain - Orm had been beaten skillfully by the slavers at sea. Not to mention the everyday pain of growing up in the Valkarian wastes.

Go on, you bastard. Hit me again. He thought, allowing only a wet grunt to blurt from his mouth as the whip lashed him for the final time.

"You may leave us Palz," the vizier's wife said, waving the henchman away.

Ulf lay exhausted, sprawled on the tiles. He could feel the blood trickling down his back to pool at his side.

"Look at me, slave. And do sit up, you're making a mess."

Ulf rose to his knees. Slowly his mistress reached up to her cheek and unpinned the veil. It dropped away, revealing a face of unrivaled beauty.

Midnight hair framed a dusky, heart shaped face set off by pert, red lips and large brown eyes.

Next she pulled at the cords holding her robes, letting them drop to the floor.

Ulf let out a low growl as he gazed on his owner's wife, naked and beautiful. She looked nothing like the pale, blonde women of his homeland and his eyes drank in every bit of her, dusky-skinned, rosy tipped goodness.

Smiling, the woman stepped towards him, one delicate handing winding around a link of Ulf's chain and pulling him close.

"And now slave, I'll punish you some more."
By Gorm, I've got to get out of his mad house the barbarian thought.

Ulf the left handed was born the son of a minor chief in the Valkarian wastes, from a clan of sailors and vikings.

Big and brawny, the lad could fell a Snow Ape with a spear aged 15, wear full armour at 16 and killed his first man in a drunken brawl aged 18.

Ill tempered and wild when he drank, these drunken brawls became all too common for his family who insited Ulf go somewhere - anywhere - else.

His father, Valk took the lad onboard his longship and Ulf got his first experience at a-viking.

The warrior took to it like a Poad to water and soon he had made himself wealthy.

Later Ulf was second mate on another ship heading south for summer raiding. After several months of raiding and trading the crew met up with another ship and headed further south into the Jazalan lands - lands of swarthy, turban-wearing men and ancient riches.

All was going well until the two ships were ambushed by a fleet of Jazalan warships - most of the northmen were put to the sword but a few were taken as slaves and forced into the rowing benches.

Formerly right handed our hero found himself rowing on the left side of the ship and found himself relying heavily on the other arm. (Hence the name)

After close to a year patrolling the coast Ulf and several others were sold to the country's Grand Vizer Jal-Path where he caught the attention of the vizer's wife Al-Jazeereth.

She took the slave as her lover, insisting he be one of those with the royal couple everywhere. It was on one such trip where his lordship was ambushed by bandits that Ulf proved his worth - rescuing Jal-Path and killing three of the bandits with his bare hands.

As a reward Ulf was commissioned as one of the slave soldiers of the royal bodyguard.

His lord's wife had an even better reward for him.

But it was not long before the vizer learned of the going ons of his favourite guard and his wife and Ulf was forced to flee - his former comrades hot on his heels.

Strength 2

Agility 0

Mind 1

Appeal 1

Braw 1

Melee 2

Ranged 0

Defense 1

Careers:

Barbarian 1

Pirate 1

Slave 0

Soldier 2

Lifeblood: 12

Hero Points: 6

Protection: Very light armor (protection d3-1) (Battle Harness, Greaves and vambraces)

Weapons: Sword, Spear, Dagger

Languages: Lemurian, Valkarian, Jazalan

Boons: Marked by the Gods (gains an extra Hero Point)

Valgardian War Cry (Scares the hell out of opponents)

Flaws: Taciturn