Abel Vanderfall

“It is only the promise of death that makes life worth living.”

― Robert E. Howard






Abel Vanderfall



Physical Description:



Abel Vanderfall is a man among men by any standard. Tall and wide, he sports a gainful physique - muscles that may as well have been hewn from rocks. Appearing as something you might imagine hailing from the high Norths, Abel's hair is untamed, a wild, unkempt mane of greasy, faded black hair - a thick, prickly stubble coating his cheeks and neck. His jaw was angular, his nose slightly misaligned from a quarrel long past. He wasn't a handsome man - rugged, if your were feeling particularly generous. If it wasn't for his reserved composure, the man would easily be seen as intimidating - but the way he holds himself, and that other little life-form; it grants his whole appearance a softer hue, a gentle giant.



Race: Human

Height: 1.96 m / 6'4

Weight: 118 kg / 260 lbs

Eyes: Dark Walnut

Hair: Dusty Charcoal

Age: 33

Martial Status: Married

Living Immediate Family: Son - Keith



Mannerisms:

Callous

Judgmental

Wary

Suspicious

Resourceful

Heartfelt

Stubborn





The brief past:



Born and raised in the farmlands of Baraban, Abel was gifted a simple beginning - his father and mother both farmhands, strong in their faith and strong in their morals. He spent much of his childhood learning, aspiring to be the leather-faced, oxen-backed, short tempered man his father was. A man with an iron-will and an unflinching composure. Tending to animals and crops were common place for Abel as a child - and as he grew, so did his workload as his father declined with age. Thankfully Abel was of strong stock, and as he grew, he quite literally grew. Day after day, hurling bales of hay, wrangling animals, up-keep of the farm in general. From sun up, to Sun down - There's a good chance the food he'd nurtured into existence was sold, traded, bought, and transferred to your table.



By the age of twenty winters he'd known no other life - he didn't care to venture out to the nearby Cities and towns. All he had, was all he wanted. That was, until he'd met Anarywn. She had showed Abel there was more to the world than what he called his reality. We're talking about a woman who could show the man his worth without stroking his ego - leaving him wanting after every meet; because of this, Abel had decided, she was to wed him.



Returning from a Farmers Market late one warm autumn evening, Abel was headed towards the outskirts of Baraban. Each step a resounding crunch of dead leaves beneath every footfall. It was dark, and the moon offered little light through the nearly impossibly thick forest canopy. Thankfully the route was well known to him, and he knew it blindly. He heard the voices first, woeful, angered, and many. The small warm orbs appeared within the sheet of black he was surrounded in - torches, far off. As he approached, the voices became louder. People were gathered, stopped. Abel looked about to see a pair of guards attempting to calm the crowds, they stood up on stone piers either side of the gate. The crowd was being denied access. That's when the screams started, the first was bone-chilling - the entire crowd hushed, fell dead - the blood in their veins freezing over. The second came, closer this time; something was out there, attacking travelers in the dark, and it was nearing. The crowds became frantic, panic erupting at an impossible rate. Hands pleading and desperate, reaching through the iron wrought fences; others trying their luck at climbing over the hastily built barricades. Abel's mind was locked to one point, Anarwyn, and there was nothing, absolutely nothing that could possibly stop him from getting to her.