Fjor Halda, The Redeemed

A middle-aged, ex-thief, oracle.

Wears a blue robe trimmed with white and gold. Right arm bears tattoos of wolves. Carries quarterstaff frequently. Brown very short hair.

As a young mischievous child, Fjor was abandoned at a young age as both of his parents had become ill and had passed away, growing up on the streets of Herius (possible misspelling of east coastal city), out of necessity, became a very skilled thief, able to steal even from even the most protective of their belongings. At the age of thirteen, someone had noticed his acts of thievery, but not of that of authority. Fjor was given the opportunity to join the thieves guild called the Wolves that Whisper by attempting to steal a jar of royal jelly from the royal pantries with promise of a cut of the gold after it’s sold (first roll: 9). he succeeds, giving him the nickname “Sticky Fingers”, and is a name he still remembers fondly.
Many years pass, Fjor has become very well respected within the Wolves that Whisper, one day a mysterious trader comes into the city by carriage, as Fjor took notice of one of his belongings; a crystal ball of sorts, it was strange though, there was some kind of yellow cloud that occasionally flashed with a bright light, Fjor was always a smooth talker, but was unable to pry any information from this merchant about him or this ball, although was able to get a close look on the crystal ball, to see himself in the middle of a robbery, fending off three guards, only difference was that his slashing seemed to have no effect on these guards. Before he could watch any more the merchant had taken away the ball from Fjor. He had to know more about this item, this would be Fjor’s next heist. That night he went to the inn that the merchant stayed in for the night, stealing from inn-stayers was nothing new to Fjor, he had done it dozens of times, although there were only two guards there, which set his mind at ease. He went to the room of the merchant on the second, attempted to pick the lock, but it was unlocked. He opened the door to the room and looked inside, the crystal ball was sitting in the corner amongst other valuables. He wasted no time in attaining the orb holding it in his hand close to his face where he stood. Fjor tried to see into the crystal ball as he did earlier but this time there was nothing he could see, it was completely empty. He shook it, smacked it, and rubbed it and nothing seemed to make it work. Suddenly a bright flash of light came from the orb, nearly blinding Fjor, so much so that he accidentally dropped the orb on the ground, smashing it into small pieces (second roll: 3), a giant cloud of yellow gas came from the ground right where the crystal ball had been destroyed. The merchant awoke as she screamed “Thief!!! Guards! Help! I knew he would come!”. Fjor had to escape quickly, but it was too late, the guards were already standing at the foot of the stairs, but there were three this time. Fjor yelled “Leave now, or I’ll gut you where you stand!” but the guards were not amused as they charged him. Fjor slashed at the charging guards as he was accustomed to when the time was right, but it appears that his fears were ungrounded, as it appears that the slash was nearly lethal. The guard cried out in pain, “Help me!” Fjor attempted to shove this guard aside, only for the unthinkable to happen, after touching the guard, it seemed that he was never injured to begin with. Fjor continued to try and slash his way through the guards but after every blow it seemed the guard was healed. After being exhausted, the guards eventually overpowered Fjor, dropping ____ (Starting item) , then escorted him to prison and was promptly thrown into a cell, a sight he had not seen for a long time.
Over the course of a few weeks, Fjor had contemplated what occurred, he was a thief, one of the best there ever was, a master of stealth and trickery, how could something like this happen? Periodically Fjor would cut himself on various parts of his body with a stone on the ground to see if he was able to heal like those guards seemed to, or at least, see if he was dreaming. To the young thief’s surprise, the merchant came to visit him in his cell, she claimed what she saw could only be the work of a miracle. She accurately described what she had seen when Fjor had tried to leave, “I saw you, thief, trying to steal my sacred artifact and in the process DESTROYED IT!!!” she yelled “But that’s not why I’m here, I want to see if my eyes had deceived me, could you hand me that blood spattered stone next to you?” Fjor filled with embarrassment and a sense of wounded pride, hesitantly did so. The merchant promptly cut her forearm lightly, just enough to draw blood, then asked, “Could you please heal me?” Fjor immediately felt a sense of urgency towards her distress, even if it was minor, he immediately placed his hand on his forearm which was just within reach. Just as it happened previously Fjor could not believe his eyes, her wound was completely gone! “What, how, what trickery is this?” Fjor exclaimed, “Look, I’m sorry for what happened, but I needed to sate my curiosity on this glow-y ball of yours.” in which the merchant quickly snapped back “That was not just any ‘glow-y orb’, thief, it was an ancient icon of Iomedae, and it appears that you have betrayed our order, how could a cleric of such good fall so low?!” Fjor was confused, he had never been a cleric, nor had he ever considered being one. “I have never been a cleric, nor have I ever followed any stupid deity, especially not someone by the dumbest of names, like Even-Lame (mocking the deity)” The confused merchant looked him in the eyes for a few seconds, puzzled about her incredibly bigoted company here. She walked away from the cell for a few minutes and thought to herself, pacing in a rather uneven pattern. She walked back up to the cell and stated “Alright, I have a proposal, I bail you out of this cell, and you follow me to the chapel of Iomedae so we can get this straightened out?” The thief agreed, noticing the dagger on her belt, he could nab it then slash her to get out. She left momentarily and came back with the keys to his cell, then immediately unlocked it. As he attempted just what he had just planned, the same events occurred at the inn when the merchant cleric cried “Help me!” the young thief immediately cleansed her of her wound. He dropped her dagger, fell to his knees and then apologized profusely, “Okay, you win. I will follow you, just please rid me of this curse.” The cleric would normally put this man behind bars again, but she could tell he was legitimately sincere, feeling remorse for recent actions. Fjor proclaimed, “I have been caught and sentenced to rot for my crimes, the Wolves that Whisper will never take me back, for I have broken their primary rule; don’t get caught, I have nobody left.” The cleric fell on her knees and embraced the young thief, she calmly said. “I may not know what forces have caused this to happen, but one thing is certain, you will never be allowed to return to your old ways, but our order is always willing to accept newcomers.” After several minutes of the cleric comforting Fjor, she lead him to the local chapel in town. An older man came to great them, he welcomed them into their chapel, he went by the name of father Albut and agreed to have several clerics attempt to examine Fjor, while several others would do research on such an oddity. Several experiments were done to attempt to examine Fjor, however all attempts would cause an explosion that would cause anyone in the near vicinity to be flung, however all their wounds were not visible, nor would there be any sign of a wound to begin with. After several days, the clerics were unable to come up with a concise reason as to why so much life energy surrounds this man. All that they could determine is that this is not the work of any creature… or deity. Fjor was offered a position in the chapel as a cleric but he refused such a position, however he did agree that in order to repent for his past crimes, that he would assist those who came into this chapel for aid. The merchant cleric left town after a few days, but before she had left she had given him her name to remember her, Dautha.
Several years had passed since the young healer began work for the chapel as an assistant healer, but was unable to obtain a higher position due to his neglecting of their deity. Fjor over time became more kind and gentle thanks to the influence of his peers. In more recent times he was assigned to near-death cases of people, thanks to his ability to save people by simply touching them (Sacred Touch Trait). Fjor, had heard of plans for the chapel being evicted, thanks to the recent tax-rate increases. This was his home now, surrounded by people the he loved and cared for, he could not allow this.. Fjor had found a small mercenary guild called ‘The Iron Eagles’ and thought that this would be the means of saving the chapel. He ventured to this guild, his journey was long and strenuous, but he managed it. He was given a simple task that would save the monetary and give him a little extra pocket change; kill a dark cleric and eliminate there cult’s presence. He ventured with a small party; a cleric, warrior, rogue and wizard. He attempted to introduce himself, but none of them seemed interested, they were there to get paid, and that is all. They got through the cult’s camp rather easily, slaughtering any single walking creature with a robe. The strange young healer was seemingly able to treat injuries more effectively than the cleric, which was not amused. As they approached the leader of the cult’s tent, the lead cultist sprang from their high tent, it was a fairly young looking women with incredibly pale skin. Fjor took a few seconds to gather his thoughts but then came to a shocking realization, this was without a doubt, Dautha. She waved her hand and all of the surrounding mercenaries fell to the ground with their eyes shut, Fjor was not sure if they were asleep… or worse. The dark cleric walked up to Fjor and said “Well if it isn’t young thief boy, I’ve missed you, is this how you treat someone after you haven’t seen them for years, by slaughter their followers?” Fjor could hardly believe it, the one sacred person who had turned him into a force of good, had fallen further than he ever could have, after pausing for a few minutes, Fjor said “You… you were the one that helped me in my darkest hour, how… why..?” The dark cleric chuckled in a sinister manner, “You’ll find out in due-time, but for now I must take my leave, we’ll meet again one day.” Fjor could not bear it any longer, his rage had gotten the best of him, he drew his sword and quickly slashed at the evil cleric, even if he couldn’t hurt her, she would still know pain, or so he thought. After he slashed her side, the wound was still there, even after he had touched it. She yelled “Help me stupid one!” but this time, Fjor felt no compulsion to help her (first part of Merciful curse states that if it is an enemy, it doesn’t do anything) this time. She waited briefly, but she was surprised, that the wound was still there, she yelled “How?! You were only able to help, not hinder! What is this?! No matter, as I have said before, we will meet again.” as she pushed Fjor away, quickly grabbed some parchment with writing on it, said some strange words, then vanished. There was still some blood on the ground as to proof of his “Success” (third roll: 10). Fjor had healed all those that were unconscious on the ground, for each of them was dying after collapsing and returned to the guild with a small vial of blood. Fjor had sent the funds to the chapel with a note attached to it saying “I’m going to be staying at the mercenary guild for now, as much as some people need my unnatural blessing, it seems the chapel itself needs my blessing the most, I will continue to work for the guild and send as much penance to the chapel as possible to keep it running” with a small signature at the bottom written as “Fjor Halda, the redeemed”

Dude was thief, became good thief, become part of thief guild ‘Wolves that Whisper’, got name “Sticky Fingers.” Strange chick come into town, have shiny ball thing. Dude want. Dude attempt to steal thing, thing explodes, attempts to kill guards, fails because magic or something, gets caught afterward. Dude finds out hand can heal by touch others. Strange chick offers freedom for dude’s compliance, dude want dat ass and agrees. Nobody figure out what do about strange thing that occurs with dude so dude say “your god dumb, me want heal anyway.” Chick leaves, dude sad. Long time pass and building dude stay at need money, dude try get money by killing bad religious dude. Bad religious dude turn out to be strange chick from earlier. Dude find out he can hurt bad people dude don’t like. Chick leaves, so dude get money for “killing” chick so now he make sure that old place he live no longer need money so he work for hire. More professional version above

Notable characters:
Father Albut – Leader of chapel of Iomedae
Dautha – Once a good cleric now evil

Notable terms:
Wolves that Whisper – Thieves’ Guild
“Sticky Fingers” – Fjor’s old nickname

Fjor Halda, The Redeemed

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