Boone Bjarki
Human – Barbarian - Werebear

Boone was a soldier, nothing more. The Berserkers offered him a chance to change that, to become something ... else. Battle hardened, ferocious, unstoppable, a tool of the Allfather’s will, these were his goals and nothing else mattered in this world or the next. Consumed by his ambitions, he clawed his way through rigorous and deadly training exercises, countless hours without sleep in biting cold surrounded by classmates with the same goals as he, but there was only one prize and so one winner. The final exams were graded in blood. The winner was the one who spilled most and shed least. As the battleground settled and the air stilled, Boone stood alone amongst the heaps of his fellow classmates. He alone had earned the right to become a "berserker.”

As is the custom, he was stripped of his armor, weapons and gear, then set upon the winter’s night in search of his prey, a great bear. Given only a single dagger, he was to slay the bear and skin it. If he would return from the wilderness wearing the bear’s skin for clothing, he would be named “berserker.”

Fresh snowfall covered smaller footsteps, but the deepest indentions Boone was following were unaffected by snow. A clear path of raw power, claws bare and deep. Real deep. The pain of the biting cold had all but numbed Boone’s tired feet. His fists clinched in uncontrolled muscles spasms from the extreme cold. “Good” thought Boone. “At least I know I won’t lose my dagger.” If you could call it a dagger. The fragment of raw iron with bits of deer skin rapped around the hilt made for a pretty pathetic weapon, but a weapon none the less. The tracks were getting deeper and more defined. He was getting closer to his prey, or to becoming prey.

He pushed through a small thicket between two large trees. He had hoped to pick up the trail again. It disappeared abruptly a ways back up the trail. He could feel something was off. An ambush? But what kind of bear could set an ambush? His unintentional question came with a very abrupt answer. As he stood in the clearing beyond the trees, the wind and snow stopped. There was not a sound. Every sense strained to do it’s job, but to no avail. His ears perked at the sound of low growls and heavy footfall, but from everywhere. His nose filled with the smell of predation, murderous intent, and adrenaline. Even his heart seemed to have stopped it’s pace in anticipated hush over the outcome.

“WHERE ARE YOU?!” shouted Boone with the element of surprise not one of his strongest skill sets.

The answer came back, not in anger or blood, but in voice, spoken from every corner of the glade.

It boomed “Return home foolish human, there is no victory to be had here. Slay me, or not, you will regret this action”

“NOT WITHOUT YOUR HIDE!” came Boone’s reply. Clearly the cold had broken his mind to hear such things in the wilderness. This bear’s pelt would serve to thaw it.

“So be it.” as the echo faded, an enormous bear stepped forward at the far end of the clearing. Or was it a bear? It was enormous! Taller than any bear or man. Bears are often seen standing upright, but this one seemed adept at it. It almost appeared human. But only in appearance, as it took one step and cleared the distance between them and was upon Boone.

Cold and frozen dagger in hand, he steadied himself for the impact, but not near enough. The lumbering mass of muscle and fur barrelled him over and stole all of his breath. He was pinned by massive paws on his shoulders and the bears mighty jaws clamped around his throat, it’s teeth barely breaking the surface. It released it’s grip on his throat and towered above it’s prey.

A dark silhouette against the cloaked sky. Again it spoke.

“Know that what I do now, I do to spare you my fate. Farewell human, may Odin receive you at his table.” He roared loud and reared back to deliver a killing blow, but as he lunged forward, Boone reacted in kind. He punched the bear square in the side of the head, breaking the bear’s skull and Boone’s hand. The bear lurched back and crumbled in a heap, trying to crawl away. Boone glared for a moment at his prize.

“Ple...please.. for your ... own good... do not do this....” the bear managed to say between spurts of blood and girgled coughes.

Boone’s bloodrage had already taken him as he shouted “I will be strongest. I Will Be Greatest! I WILL SIT AT THE TABLE OF GLORY!! NO ONE CAN STOP ME!!”

With that, he plunged the dagger deep in to the throat of the bear killing it. He began skinning the beast immediately, taking care not to damage the hide.

Warm at last, he returned home.

He had returned. Victorious. Exalted. Feared. Ready for any challenge. For a time he enjoyed his newly found celebrity status. Women wanted him. Men envied him. But all things must pass.

A young upstart recruit named Juric challenged Boone for many days. He ignored the whelp not wanting to hurt the lad.

After a rather lengthy and intense drinking spell with much company and all the pleasures there of, Boone was on his way home when he was jumped and publicly challenged by Juric. Now he had to fight. He drew his blade and faced Juric, staggering to stay upright.

Juric began with words and addressed the crowd. “This is your champion? Your drunkard?”

Boone swooned and belched in his direction.

Juric sprang to life lashing out at Boone. His strength and speed surprised Boone, even if he had been sober. Soon he found himself outmatched and reeling from a beating. Juric enjoyed his victory, prodding and boasting to the crowd.

Boone’s blood boiled. His vision blurred. The only thought in his mind was of spilling Juric’s blood over the snowy ground. He lost all track of time and self. He felt powerful. Hungry. Driven. All his fatigue and injuries disappeared or he couldn’t feel them anymore. He seemed to tower above Juric now, who was occupied rousing the crowd. A woman’s scream brought Juric’s attention back to Boone. But only for a moment. A massive bear claw swung from the right cleaving Juric’s head from his shoulders. Somewhere in Boone’s mind it was odd to see a bear attack this close. Boone stood over the lifeless corpse and roared loud. So loud in fact it shocked Boone back to his senses. He looked at his hands that were regressing from bear claws back to human hands. They were covered in Juric’s blood. Juric was boastful, arrogant, skilled yes, but sloppy. He did not deserve this! The crowd began to scream at Boone and throw stones. The guards had been called and there was much commotion and shouts of “monster” and “murderer.”

Boone ran. Into the woods as fast as his feet would pound. The last thing anyone saw of him as he ran into the night was his bearskin tunic flapping behind him.