Berthold Rev2

Information

Player: Napoleon

Character Full Name: Berthold Ahab Ravensbrook

Character In-Game Name: Berthold

Nickname(s): -none-

Association(s): -None-

Race: Human

Class: Paladin

Age: 26

Sex: Male

Hair: short black hair and a goatee

Eyes: dark brown

Height: 6'0

Appearance

Usual Garments/Armor: Berthold wears a suit of black plate armour. Some people will undoubtedly judge him on his appearance and think he has fallen, but they would be wrong. Being an Exorcist, he deals on a daily basis with the undead, demons and the unholy. He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you. This is the outward representation of the sacrifices he has made over the years.

Personality

Berthold is a somewhat sinister character. While he IS a paladin, he is scarred by years of a one man war against undeath and demons. He remains a devoted champion of the Holy Light, which seems to look kindly upon him for the sacrifices he has made and the toll it has taken on him.

History

Early life to teenage years

Brother Berthold Ravensbrook was born in Northdale, a small village of Northern Lordaeron. As a child, Berthold wanted to follow in his father's footsteps and become a huntsman. He had a liking for nature, and did not mind being away from home for days at a time. He learned to fish, how to use a rifle and to set traps. He had a certain talent, so he enjoyed the hunt itself, but what he prefered was the day's end. They would sit around a campfire and roast meat while Silas would recount the stories of the hunts of his youth, with his own father.

When they decided to go hunting in the north, it was not not uncommon for them to encounter hunting parties of high elves. Whenever this happened, Berthold always had a thousand questions to ask of them, ever wise and mysterious. One of them, a younger elf by the name of Valenthas even came to Northdale to visit with him on occasion. He had himself visited Silvermoon once, and seen the grandeur of the city and beauty of elven craft. While he could not speak thalassian, he dutifully absorbed as much of the language as he could. He never quite managed to speak it fluently, and later events took a turn that would make the possibility of furthering his mastery of the language quite unlikely.

He often wondered, later, if his friend had survived the fall of Quel'Thalas. Of course the likelihood that they would ever meet again were slim, and with the new relations between the Alliance and the newly renamed Blood Elves would not make it any easier.

All the Evil

He was only sixteen years old when the Scourge took away from him everything he loved and cared for. It all started after he and his father returned from a hunting trip. A few days had passed since their return from the wild when strange things started happening in the town. People they had known all their lives did not recognise them anymore, and paced mindlessly about the town. The glimmer of intelligence in their eyes had dulled, and a few of them had even tried to attack them on the streets, which forced the family to bar the doors to the house, something they were not in habit of doing.

Upon their return from the wild, the family had plenty of venison to eat, and was therefore not so much dependant on grain. It would be only much later that he would learn about the plagued shipments, but this bought precious time for Berthold and his father, who were away when it was distributed. From the windows on the second floor of the family house, where the bedrooms were, they had a view on the gruesome spectacle happening on the streets. People were turned into... Light-forsaken creatures, which were cannibalising each other!

Loud banging noises shifted the Ravensbrooks' attention from the horrific scene. The creatures were trying to force the door! The furniture was moved to block the windows and the entrance door. They were however locked in with no way out. Silas Ravensbrook intended to protect his family as long as he still had strength, and could count on a sturdy son to aid him in this task. He sent his wife and daughter away to the master bedroom. Being a huntsman by profession, he had two rifles and ammunition in good amounts. They would make good use of them.

From the daughter's room, they had an excellent vantage point. They could see the door below them to the left, the path to the house and whatever was going on in the street. They would take turns, one firing while the other reloaded his rifle. They were successful in keeping the monsters off the property, but would eventually run out of ammunition, and when that moment came, there would be little left to do but pray.

Strange noises came from the other end of the corridor. The women were shouting. Or at least one was. It was the little girl, Sami. The zombies had not breached the door yet, so it was assumed that she was simply scared out of her wits. They continued to pick off whoever closed in on the property until Martha, the mother, appeared in the doorway. Her dress was torn and covered in blood. The light of humanity had left her.

Berthold, at the time, did not understand that while he and Silas had been gone, she had eaten the plagued grain. She was now one of the foul creatures too! As she walked in with a kitchen knife, Silas had his back turned to her as he was aiming his rifle at a man who had been a neighbour for 15 years. Berthold was too terrified to even scream. She plunged the knife in her husband's back before biting him in the area of the jugular. Berthold watched in horror as his father died before his eyes.

Grabbing hold of his rifle, he made a run for door, and made his way to the master bedroom. He stopped at the door, finging the body of his sister, half-eaten on the floor, in a pool of blood. His hands began to shake almost uncontrollably. He slowly managed to grab hold of the pouch of powder across his shoulder and put some in the barrel of the weapon. From the satchel at his belt, he produced a bullet, which he placed in the mouth of the gun. He finally rammed everything in place with the ramrod he had placed under his arm during those delicate operations. When he walked back into his sister's room, his mother was still eating away at his father, and paid little attention to him. He raised the gun and took his time. He took careful aim, and fired. She crumbled to the ground.

For hours he continued to fight, and fatigue eventually became a more terrible threat than whatever evil lurked out there...Until he heard something, far in the distance. Horns. Someone was coming to assist the villagers who had not yet succumbed to the plague! The men and women of the Knights of the Silver Hand had finally come, and with sword and hammer they brought about the power of the Light to save the day.

Berthold was taken to one of the Silver Hand's monasteries where he remained safe for a time. After he recounted his family's fate, research was done to find relatives who could take him in, but the entire village was lost. It was decided that he would remain at the monastery, where he would be provided for if he would take on the path of the squire. Having nowhere else to go, Berthold accepted.

Exile in the mountains

His stay with the Silver Hand was not to last. A few months only in his training, internal struggles within the Order forced him to fend himself. For a few weeks, he lived off what he had learned from his father in the wilderness of the Hinterlands, to the south. He eventually found refuge among the Wildhammer dwarves of Aerie Peaks. It is there that he met the hunter Grunnewald.

The old dwarf had a kind heart, and had taken the young human in. He would have offered his hospitality to the youngling longer should it have been needed, but Berthold assured him that he would not remain long after he had figured out his course of action. It was with Grunnewald that Berthold first experienced Hinterlands blend tobacco. The old dwarf smoked it in great quantity with a hickory pipe he had made himself. Berthold grew quite fond of it.

While Berthold became very attached to Grunnewald, he longed to make his own place in the world. His options were somewhat limited, but not nonexistent. He assessed his objectives and came up with two, which fortunately were compatible. He would complete his training first and becoming a full-fledged paladin. When that was done, he would be better able to take on his second objective, which was to see his homeland rid of the plague of undeath. But where should he start?

While tending to the gryphons, he overheard the huntsmen discussing news form the north. Apparently, a new group had surfaced and had vowed to eradicate the Scourge. They were some sort of theocratic order, backed by some potent militia. They were calling out to young men and women to join their cause in reclaiming once-glorious Lordaeron. They were called the Scarlet Crusade.

It was very difficult to leave Aerie Peaks. In the old hunter, he had found a good friend and some sort of a father figure. Grunnewald packed a traveling bag for him before he vanished over the mountains. The bag contained rations for a few days, a lucky dwarven rune, a pipe and a pouch of Hinterlands blend tobacco.

The Scarlet brand

It took him a lot of resourcefulness to contact the Scarlet Crusade, but after a few days of efforts, he made his way north to Tyr's hand. He was put in quarantine for a period of 30 days, as is the practice of the Order. It is common knowledge that the plague could take a few days to manifest itself, depending on the individual's constitution. It was believed that, should anyone be infected, they would by then have manifested themselves.

Once he was cleared, he was interrogated on several occasions by both military and ecclesiastical personnel on his background, special skills and intentions. He explained that he was from one of the ravaged villages, that he had some skills as a huntsman, and that he was trained for a time as a squire by the order the Silver Hand. That detail seemed to attract the attention of the man sitting across the table from him, a paladin in a shiny red armor.

Berthold could not take his eyes off the brightly colored suit of armor. One day, he would have his own. He knew it. He could feel it. There was a glint in his eyes, like a burning fire, as he went on to explain that he wanted to become a paladin, and have a part in the reclaiming of Lordaeron. The officer nodded, and said he would relate the information to the competent authorities.

Two days later, he and a few others were on a caravan setting out west towards the Scarlet Monastery, and the fulfilment of his goals. He and the others underwent an intense period of conditioning, to “fortify [their] minds against the corruption present in these lands”. The precepts of the Light were hammered into their brains, from the main writings to the most obscure apocrypha. Special attention was given to certain parts of the apocrypha, pertaining to the cost on self from the fight against evil, and the measures that should be taken towards the ultimate purpose of their brethren.

He demonstrated acute talent with the gifts of the Light, and a particular hatred of the undead. That got him noticed by his instructors. A note has been placed in his file. “Would make a superb exorcist”. When his file was moved to the next level, that note was taken into consideration, and the focus of his training was shifted towards skills useful in fighting undeath and the demonic taint.

After a few years as a scarlet squire and initiate, he was finally expected to join the ranks of the Order. By the time he was 20, he was a full member of the Scarlet Crusade, and fighting daily to retake what was by now known as the Plaguelands. He finally had taken the final step, and was wearing the scarlet brand on his right arm. He would be leaving soon for his first affectation in the city of Hearthglen.

The Scarlet stain

As a Knight of the Scarlet Crusade, he obtained the trust of the secretive order, and learned of many things kept secret from even their own initiates. He witnessed first hand the torture chambers below the monastery and other installations of the Crusade. For a while, he even conducted “interrogations” himself, in his capacity of exorcist, extracting information from undead infiltrators.

He was well aware of the “extreme situations call for extreme measures” attitude of the Scarlet Crusade, and for what seemed like a long time, he accepted it. That is until the Crusade's blind zeal made them capable of the inadmissible. He witnessed a party of humans who had come to the Crusade seeking protection. They were slain by the Crusaders for being unable to prove that they were not undead sympathisers.

Not able to endorse the atrocities committed by his own, he one night simply disappeared. Out there in the forest, a tabard of the Scarlet Crusade was burning.

The second exile

As he escaped from Hearthglen, he realised that he needed once again to reassess his situation. He had to lay low for a while. He thought about returning to Aerie Peaks. He would be welcome there. He however opted against it. He would go somewhere else, where he could be just another stranger in the crowd. That place would be Southshore.

He remained there for some time, befriending a brother paladin, Raleigh the Devout. Eventually, his desire to see his home free surfaced again. He commissioned from the local tailor a new outfit complete with a wide-brim hat and a cloak. As for armor, he would scrounge-up what he could from the very corpses of his ennemies. They would be his prizes and trophies of war.

His war lasts to this day, with the occasional travel south to Stormwind, where he likes to attend the sermons of the Cathedral of Light. He also sometimes consults with Father Howard Grey, another man who has lost everything to the Scourge.