Polski

POLSKI WARSHI

BORN: 25/7 1159 FA in Bilza

RACE: Realmar/Utarik

REALM: Red Mentalism

AURA: Violet

HEIGHT: 191 cm

 

 

TITLE(S)

Legend

Polski hit as hard and fast as the lightning that sired him, and his perception is as grand as a handful of folks.”

Skjald Ulrich

 

History

Fourth Age

According to the annals, the birth of Polski is one of the most bizarre births to have occurred in The Realm. And it was a muggy day with heavy clouds hanging low above the village of Dolamur Slubsk in the Pollumen. None were tending the cranes hoisting or lowering goods, as people were uncomfortable if lightning broke out.

Suddenly, an extremely loud flash came, and the village was struck by lightning. It came down into the glassblowers shop, shattering the roof and cracking the house open. As soon as nearby people had recovered from the flash and booming thunderclap, they rushed to the burning house to see if the residents were injured. And, amidst the ruins, lay a woman dead in a childbed,  and husbands and midwives sprawled around the ruin. But at the charred and still-gleaming bedcarpet lay a crying newborn, seemingly unharmed by the accident.

Skjald Yell'a'Beard

 

Growing up with a foster family, a tanner’s son, in the town of Warsha Slubsk down at the feet of the Pollumen and at the shore of River Ari. Polski worked hard for the food, dying hides and cloth. When not working, he enjoyed climbing trees in the nearby forest or climbing in The Crepse Crevasse cutting deep into the hills to find whatever valuables he encountered. It was in one of these climbs that he met his first wild animal, or should I say creature, as it was not certain what it was from his descriptions. Regardless, he snapped its spine and strangled it to death. He brought it back and was scolded for hours, despite his reassurance that besting that thing was nothing.

The encounter did, though, make the 7-year-old start to practice with weapons whenever he could spare time for it. And he began travelling to more remote parts of wood, crevasse, and rough land in the hope of finding more of these things. Especially as he had received a really good price for the first fur. He had more success in arms training than in creature finding, and as he passed 10, every training master in the village couldn’t teach him more.

With a recommendation from one of the elders to the city guard captain of the nearby city of Gir Dansk at the foot of Pollumen Peak. The young lad, exceptional at melee, was sent to better use his natural skills than flipping dyed hides and cloth.

Skjald Valgrif

 

Sitting on a waggon, with but fist and a flagon…

Bumping bend, hill and swing, he could but sing…

Of dreams about greatness, honour to mother and father both…

When birds pipped no more, and guides ran ashore…

Robbers and rascals all, thought the lad too small…

Louder than silence, sang his fist and birds pipped along…

Guides cheered a song, the lad so strong…

Skjald Kazumix

 

“I’m sorry for the blood”, sir, were his first words to the captain of the guard as he handed the stained letter. And looked excitedly at the bulky mountain of bone and muscle reading his introduction. “It seems you’re something special, eh lad. Well, let’s see that. Tag along”. Within an hour of reaching the city’s gates, he was in the city guards training arena, facing another young but seemingly 5-year-old and trained fighter. Unsure of how he should handle the situation, the opponent charged him, and to everyone’s surprise, he avoided the intended chest poke and jump-spun across the forward-leaning charger, who, after a couple of steps, stopped and slowly turned and stared point blank into the tip of Polski’s training sword. Within a few hours, they had finally found training partners able to provide proper training and were enjoying practicing with the young talent.

So in the year 1170, he celebrated his 11th birthday as the youngest member who ever donned the mantle of the Gir Dansk city guard. Quickly, he gained the respect of the population, and even the various shadow guilds respected the skilled lad. There were, of course, a few who saw the extremely skilled guard as a threat to their business and tried ambushes and assassinations to get rid of him. But nothing seemed to work, as he was extremely quick and agile and had a perception normally not seen with guards.

So when he became 13, he was promoted to Corporal. He had 5 men under him and managed his crew’s things as well as walked the streets with them. He was well liked and, at times, aided other corporals. He also led several forces into the wilderness to hunt for creatures or monsters and did border patrols. When he turned 16, he was promoted to Sergeant, the youngest ever in any town in Bilza.

Skjald Sejrik

 

The news of Kinoblin had been circling for a couple of years, but in 1176, a Junk anchored up outside Gir Dansk. Being the one on duty, the 17-year-old was the one to greet the Kinoblin envoy at the pier. Obviously confused by far older, big-bearded men letting a lad do the talking. I’ve heard it was a spectacular happening, as the strangers couldn’t help but address the lesser-ranked but elder ones. At some point, Polski dismissed the watch as he could easily handle the situation alone.

Standing there alone, with 3 Kinoblin envoys, some foolish members of The Green Mist, a rouges/assassins guild, tried to see if they could do the job so many craved for while getting some exclusive loot in the bag. I am uncertain what they were thinking; had they succeeded, the Kinoblin most likely would have sunk the island of Utari—or””at least burned Gir Dansk to the ground.

Noticing an odd humming in the wind, Polski spun around, and in the movement, he grabbed a crossbow bolt, aiming straight for the face of the envoy leader with his right hand, and with the left, he grabbed the one aiming for his back. Then, aware that Kinoblin had now understood the danger, he made a tumbling roll and double-leaped towards the assassins. As they had reloaded and were about to fire again, one had a bolt buried into his eye socket, and the other had his throat ripped open. In a gusting spray of blood, Polski stared at the last petrified fools who had attacked him. One jabbed his stiletto into his own throat, the other stroked towards Polski. The last action he ever took with that arm.

Turning towards Kinoblin and letting the dying fool sprawl on the ground, Polski is to have said, “Sorry for that, sirs, but now you can rest assured that your trade booth can be set up safely.” Their reply only Polski could hear. But people who were there say that the visitors seemed quite impressed. Later that day, when he had reported the incident, his crew had returned and cleaned up the pier. The small Kinoblin boat came to the pier again, and they gave him a gift, a trial-pit mace they said was called “Skull Maimer“. Their leader was seemingly thankful for being saved from that bolt but also impressed by Polski’s skills.

A week and several talks with the visitors later, they anchored up and left. And Polski was promoted to Senior Sergeant. Again, the youngest ever. And when he turned 18, in 1177, he became the youngest Luitnant ever in Bilza. He spent 2 years more in the city guard, but as he turned 20, he left as an honorary Major, aiming north for Gartra Moor, the capital of Bilza.

Skjald Vinotis

 

He told me that, going to Gartra Moor, the main question in his head was about his heritage. Despite being tall, he was also more fair-skinned than many of his fellow citizens. He wondered if it was due to that odd birth accident, but as he would pass Warsha Slubsk, he planned to spend some time there to see if he could find some news about his parents.

20 years had passed, and the town still had the same function of hoisting and lowering goods, but many of the elders had either died or moved on to find other livelihoods. A few could remember his parents though and said they came from somewhere in Midgard and it was only his elder brother who had been born down the piers the day 25 years ago. Where his elder brother was, they didn’t know, but he had survived the lightning as he was not home that day. They also told him to visit the town leader, and upon doing so, he was given a sum of money as payment for the house that had been long sold and rebuilt. He was also given an old waggon of glass ingots that none could remelt, and thus it merely stood at the back of the town leaders house for all these years.

With this new knowledge and a wagonload of coloured glass ingots, he turned his back on his past. He bought an extra horse and walked northward with his cargo. Little did he know, his glass would save the day at the other end of the realm in a hundred years.

Skjald El Mary

 

He only spent 10 years in Gartra Moor, yet he impressed the city guard and Nobility there as much as he had in previous towns and cities. At the age of 31, in 1190, he had nothing more to learn from native trainers or hired hands, so he left their service at the rank of Colonel. The main reason was not a lack of skilled training partners but because he had heard news that someone might be able to use his ingots. So he travelled by ship to the Free City of Muldum and gave them to Mino Ta’uranur as he was able to use odd Kobold melting procedures and enchantments. In exchange for the cargo, Polski was taught the ways of T'Aurs fighting and rage.

As if he were not deadly already, he became extremely lethal during the years with Mino’. He became sort of the security guard of the forge and shop, as they at times experienced customers unwilling to pay or respect ownership. Misunderstandings he was more than happy to correct. But around 1215, he left for Midgard, as he had something he needed to examine. He returned in 1220, and when the Bulls Order was formed, he became the leader of their military with the rank of Stallari.

Skjald Sigurd

 

He told me that he was with a Moss'Ari tribe to learn their Nature's Ways when The Great Invasion came. So he had no clue about it until two weeks had passed. He never reached the old Free City of Muldum, as it had been burned to the ground when he finally came to its gates, many a week and dead foes later.

Seeing there was nothing to do there, he left for Academy of Ea with his cargo. But when he passed Tusla, he was intercepted by Aragon, who told him about what had occurred. And they chanced course for Junnatu Caves as Aragon had heard that both Grimsborg and Ashenhall had fallen.

When they passed Tornix, they did indeed see a ruined and smoking Ashenhall, but they were also spotted by Kinoblin. The hunt took place all the way to Usai where they managed to escape into narrow fjords and through crevasses known to only a few. So, almost 6 months after The Great Invasion, they stood with two creaking hand-pulled waggons at the entry to Junnatu Caves. Staring at Meanbone, Longhorn, and several other Junnatu Weavers.

Greeting old friends and gritting teeth at losses, they distributed the load. And after a short rest, set out to hunt Aquerian, Kinoblin, and Mammutan.

Skjald Vinotis

 

Special

Polski is able to gain any opponent’s attention in a few poundings and pass it over in a few heartbeats.

Skjald Sigurd

Last Updated on 2024-02-11 by IoM-Christian