Abasdarhon's Castle

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Sid Vander

He was far from the first man of his kind to follow the path of the warrior. This proud tradition, rooted in the past, gave him a sense of belonging to something special. Long ago, as a small child, he did not understand this and suffered greatly from the harshness that permeated every aspect of his family's life. Even when his father was away on duty, discipline always reigned in their home, and he himself was severely punished for disobedience or failure to perform certain household chores.
He lived long enough to know his grandfather; he remembered him as a massive and impenetrable man, as if carved from a single piece of stone, who completely dominated the father by his silent presence alone. However, unlike his energetic and fussy father, in his grandfather—beyond a deeply rooted, ossified power—one could sense a slight sadness and warmth. This man, despite his coarse and unfriendly appearance, was truly glad to spend time with his loved ones, valuing every minute, and as a child, the grandson could not help but be won over by this sincerity.
Therefore, when his father one day, jaw clenched, announced that his grandfather had fallen in a brave death during another battle, Sid was devastated.
- This is some kind of mistake... The son of my mother's friend has his whole family together. They sit in the kitchen and drink tea with kozinaki, and then they go mushroom hunting. All their arms and legs are intact. They all work as plowmen and seamstresses. How can this be?.. They will continue to giggle and stuff their bellies, while we... dig a grave for grandfather? And do we even have anything to put in it?.. - he did not cry, but looked heavily at the floor, his clenched fists trembling. - And is this what awaits you? And me?.. It's unfair.
His father did something uncharacteristic of him—he knelt down to be at eye level with his son and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.
- Kozinaki and tea with mushrooms come and go—those are all trifles, but only memories full of pride remain. He lived a worthy life, one that earned the respect of others and which he himself could be proud of. Proof of this is the fact that I am here and now swearing to honor his memory, to continue the work with even greater zeal, and never to shame his legacy. And I expect the same from you, - he patted his son on the head. - Rejoice if your blade finds its mark. Work harder if it misses. Fall if it reaches you. The path of the sword is simple; that is what makes it so attractive. By stepping upon it, you accept the rules of a game that the dishonorable or the weak-spirited would not dare.
The boy nodded gloomily.
This unpleasant event and the experiences associated with it eventually led to a revision of his childhood views, killed the weakness within him, motivated his corresponding development, and led him to enlist in the army of the republic.

Over the years, Sid fared well in this profession; he wore out many boots, participated in a great number of battles, acquired a long service record and several official commendations, buried his father and mother, punched a few new holes in an ever-tightening trouser belt, and even got a wife. Family life, however, did not work out very well—he was on duty for days on end, often traveled on business trips, grew increasingly tired, and spent long periods recovering from injuries. Over time, chronic ailments began to manifest, and on rainy or frosty days, old wounds ached so much that the soldier became very grumpy and caustic; moreover, he could sit for hours with a glass of something strong, staring meaninglessly into the fireplace. In such moments, he felt like an old man, although it seemed he had only recently passed thirty. For some reason, they hadn't managed to have children yet, and it was evident from his wife as well that this marriage was not at all what she had dreamed of.
It could not continue this way for long and end in something good. One rainy night, as a result of another reorganization in the unit, he returned home unexpectedly early. Seeing the vague outlines of several silhouettes in the window while still approaching, Sid—as he was, in a cloak soaked to the skin, spreading mud through the house with boots soiled up to the knees—burst into his own bedroom and caught his wife with another man: a youth with fuzz on his face. The wife screamed and began to stammer, but he grabbed her by the wrist and flung her aside.
- Call the guard, - he threw at her sideways, staring with an unkind gaze into the stranger's eyes.
- Listen, pops, just don't... - the little man's voice trembled when he saw the master's hand reach for the scabbard on his belt. - Hey, man! Man! Listen, stop! Husb..!
The officer drove the blade deep into the same small man's heart right through the blanket, pinning him to the bed. The body jerked a few times, fingers convulsively scratched at the blade, and the eyes went out. The wife screamed and tumbled out into the corridor, clutching some rags to her chest. Sid's memory forever captured how a scarlet flower spread across the moisture-swollen blanket. After standing for a while, he exhaled and sank heavily into a chair. Leaning back, massaging the bridge of his nose and rubbing his forehead, he sat there until the law enforcement arrived.

The commander gave him a dressing-down for all these troubles but supported him fully in spirit. "The idiot knew what he was getting into when he entered another man's house and bed, especially while on duty" - he concluded. As a result of the investigation, it was found that the deceased was nobody—just some drifting tumbleweed without a trade or kin, wandering from one bar, brothel, or gambling house to another. The commander intended to pull strings; the shamed wife was ready to testify that this brigand had entered their dwelling through threats and deception, forced her into vile acts by power, and threatened the unexpected savior in the person of the husband with a weapon, after which he was defeated in an honest defensive struggle, but Sid, to everyone's surprise and incomprehension, refused such help. In court, he told everything exactly as it happened from start to finish, including the moment of killing an unarmed citizen. The court simmered for a long time, listening to and comparing all testimonies, deliberating, and finally delivering a verdict. Given the special circumstances of the event, as well as the defendant's membership in the army of the republic, his impeccable service on its behalf, and vouchers from fellow soldiers, he managed to avoid the maximum penalty. Instead, he faced discharge from the army, fifteen years of hard labor, and temporary requisition of his house and property by the state—until the end of his term.
It goes without saying that his shaky marriage collapsed at that same moment—the wife packed her things and left the region the very next day. Sid did not blame her. Their late marriage had been flawed from the start, and for more than a year everything had been heading this way. The court's verdict first seemed too lenient to him, and he shook his head in disappointment, thinking about how irrelevant matters outweighed justice, but after some time, he realized he was mistaken. Spending years hacking coal in a cramped, gas-filled mine was a pleasure for special connoisseurs in itself, but replaying the events that led to this in memory every minute, hour, day, and year was not easy. Death, for Sid as a military man, was of course nothing new, but it always fit into a clearly defined scheme in which each participant metaphorically signed off. This time, he found himself on the same side of morality as the true murderers and scum whom he had spent his whole life before suppressing. A photographically accurate picture flashed in his mind over and over: how a reflection of a candle flickered along the blade damp from rain; how the eyes of his victim widened and the face distorted; hands remembered the sensation of piercing bare flesh with a piece of metal, "protected" only by a thin layer of fabric; ears remembered the dull, wet crunch. And he wasn't even angry enough to justify his action with that state of mind. He had long suspected his spouse—or rather, attributed the probability of such an event to her in his head—but also understood that under these conditions it was inevitable. When the master of the house entered that room, he felt neither boiling rage nor a consciousness-clouding bitterness, but rather understood that at this moment he simply had to act exactly this way, according to all the beliefs and feelings that had walked side by side with him throughout his life. It was a situation from which, given his upbringing and character, it was impossible to emerge as a winner or get away with little blood.

At the end of his term, Sid Vander was released into the world. He did not take back the house from the republic, which had successfully used it all these years by converting it for its own needs, and he had no items of sentimental or special value in it; therefore, he simply asked for a corresponding large monetary payment for it and left. Considerably aged, knowing nothing but mining—which would be utterly ruinous to touch given his state of health—he did not wander and did not think long about where to go. Attempts to reconcile with himself, find God, and continue living led the unfortunate man to the borderlands of southern Tsutar, and his considerably rusted but sharpened skills of war found application in one of the local orders, where he found a new refuge for the following years.

Origin:
Seneian Republic
Strong-willed

Characteristics:
Strength - 50
Agility - 30
Perception - 5
Endurance - 30
Intelligence - 5
Will - 50

Skills: