United Kingdoms

Helmut Dahau

It's wonderful to be a citizen of a developed state – you don’t have to do anything, and everything is provided. If he wants, he buys meat at the market; if he wants, he takes a walk in the park. Everyone walks around happy and rosy-cheeked, living like kings. There is something to be proud of – one would drink and fight for the honor of such a country.
Of course, not everyone feels this way, because even in the most beautiful society there are marginal elements who do not want to work and respect other people's cultural characteristics.
In his youth, old man Dahau fought against Hookers in the Mineian War, and he told so many stories that it was breathtaking. “Thank God you didn’t have to experience that, son,” he used to say to Helmut. “There stands such a scoundrel, looks like a person, smiles and bows his head, but blood drips from his claws onto the sand – just now with these same hands he tore out the heart of my comrade. We need to crush them, those bastards, crush them, shoot them, destroy them!”
The old man banged his glass on the table, disgust and hatred were heard in his voice, but his feverish eyes burned so brightly that it became clear – his own heart remained forever on the battlefield, there, on the islands.
When he reached an appropriate age, Helmut followed in the footsteps of his honorable dynasty, joining the army, where he stayed for many years. And so, after participating in ten campaigns, earning some money, inheriting a shack from his deceased father, and already having chosen a woman to start a family with, he received orders for a new assignment.
His close-knit unit was tasked with going – incredibly, but true! – to those very islands as peacekeepers. Some time ago, reports began to arrive about a new extremist group operating in the region, consisting of local aborigines. They attacked representatives of the alliance, raided outposts, and even intimidated and brutally killed native Mineians who did not share their radical views. The soldiers were supposed to work with the local population, identify centers of rebellion, arrest leaders, and harshly suppress the movement.
“Sir!” Helmut barked, saluted, and went to prepare for the mission.
He remembered all of his father's breathtaking stories about ruthless enemies, amazing fruits, wonderful climate, and exotic women; Helmut’s comrades also greeted this news with approving roars.
Every day at sea was spent in harsh training; the soldiers gave it their all and were ready to fight even the devil himself. But when land appeared on the horizon...
The closer the ship approached the coastal village, the more terrible details became visible: the swarthy bodies of the locals were gutted and hung by their entrails from the walls of their own huts, and in a huge pile of ashes in the middle of the village there was a shapeless heap of charred skeletons piled on top of each other – some still wearing chainmail and armor, just like that of the newly arrived troops.
After landing on the shore, the squad discovered a large number of human footprints leading into the depths of the tropical forest.
Further events are poorly preserved in memory – apparently, the mind itself erased painful memories. All that Helmut could remember during the debriefing upon returning to headquarters were fragmented episodes: an exhausting march through the jungle; an ambush and brutal massacre; a terrorist lair; crude animal cages; friends' limbs swollen with infections, poisons, and gangrene; raving thugs burning prisoners alive; a desperate escape from savages and their hunting dogs. All these fragments were united by one emotion – unspeakable fear, which seemed incredible for such a brave man as Helmut.
The second military vessel, arriving several months later, found near the coast the sunken, charred hull of the first, and the only person on the island was Helmut Dahau, who had settled in one of the looted coastal huts. At first, he did not react to anything at all; most of the day he simply sat leaning against the wall with his emaciated body, stared into space, and sometimes muttered something silently with his chapped lips, but on the way home, after a few weeks, under careful medical supervision, he began to recover. He never remembered the events of the mission, and could not explain the huge number of human remains scattered throughout the island – some gnawed by wild animals, others burned to ashes.
For a long time, Helmut suffered from nightmares and headaches, and although his physical condition improved, it was not enough for him to fully serve. After six months of rehabilitation, the soldier was discharged and honorably retired; the army paid him a pittance, solemnly presented him with a couple of medals, and he returned home to his fiancée.
For some time, he tried to earn a living through manual labor, but he failed – tools slipped out of his hands and ruined wooden products, he couldn't remember all types of chemical reagents and formulas, but worst of all was the heat of the blacksmith’s forge – his heart started beating like crazy, darkness came before his eyes, and an irresistible weakness spread through his limbs.
However, the familiar strong steel of a sword in his hand calmed him down and helped him concentrate, as if it were the best medicine. Finding no other option, the former sergeant of the Leitian army became a mercenary.

Strength - 8
Agility - 6
Perception - 8
Intelligence - 4
Willpower - 3
Charisma - 3

Profession: Warrior I
Specialization: Leitian Sword III
Origin: Leitо
Religion: Shamanism, spirits of fire
Perk: Eagle Eye

Equipment:
- army Leitian sword;
- travel outfit for a swordsman;
- worn medallion with a miniature photorealistic picture of a young woman and a one-year-old child, with an inscription on the back: "With love, Franca and Kurt."