Falcon Lost - Otto Weiss

[Salty_Soykaf]

__________________________________________________________________________________________
Age: 31
Origins: Falkovnia
Occupation: Actor for Theatre de la Cathedrale, mercenary
Distinguished traits: Zwifalk brand on forehead, ring and pinky finger missing on left hand, large bite scar on left bicep.
Tattoos: Zwifalk tattoos on his collar bones. Death tarokka card, and three flur-di-lis on left shoulder


Born to a commoner family in Weissfalkund region of Falkovia, several miles north of Lektar. The horrors of Falkovnia are well known to the outside world, but for those who've lived with it, it was merely the way of life. Born as the eighth son out of twelve children, Otto witness the deaths of five of his siblings. Each of them dying from various physical trauma, disease, or lost to the woods. Majority of his childhood was spent learning his father's trade as a bargeman running cargo from the Lamordia boarder to Morfenzi.

Eventually, through cunning, backstabbing, and outright brutality towards fellow serfs, his father earned the right to become a military commissioned merchant. This offered an easier life for the whole family, allowing them to live a life of luxury compared to the usual Falkovnian commoner.  The family soon moved to Aerie in order to take over the management and sales of a few craftsmen residing within the city.



Due to the city of Aerie and his family's new ranking in life, Otto earned a reputation as a spoiled teen. Often he'd cause trouble with the local citizen at times, particularly the tradesmen of his father's rivals. While as a young boy, his father tolerated and was downright amused by these actions, but as the years passed, such actions had to be paid for due to disrupting trade. His father personally flogged him outside their home for twenty lashes, leaving him passed out and bloodied, exposed to the elements for a few hours.

When he came to and entered his home, his youngest sister met him. She wasn't spared from a beating to curb his ire. The next day, his father informed him of an ultimatum. Leave for the Academy in Stangengrad or be conscripted directly into the army. Otto, of course, picked the former. His time in Stangengrad was met with an average performance, drinking, and the loss of his pinky and ring finger due to a game of pinfinger. When his time was up, the Academy sent him to serve in Invidia as a Vistani hunter. Years went by and he received news of his father's passing, and that his youngest sister has taken over their father's role.

Weeks later, he arrived over the border of Barovia with nothing more than his family's merchant uniform, some gold, and rations.

[Salty_Soykaf]

[Salty_Soykaf]

Dear Diary,

    I finally got over the boarder and settling in a town called Vallaki. I can find the time to write, for once. I would have been able to settle sooner if the Vistani were not, well, Vistani. Whatever ire I've gained from them due to my time hunting their ilk, I don't blame them in the slightest. The way I see it, orders were orders. It's funny having run into two other Falkovnians, both male, and both seem to be deserters. It amuses me due to their actions, I can tell they've got a good moral fiber about them. That's awful good of them to have a sense of righteousness and honor, but I'm not that foolish.  [P.S. I owe one of them for not letting me die to a witch, I must deal with that favor before it costs me].

   I will say it wasn't surprising to find that I've caused a stir in the local mountain town of Krofburg. Elves speaking Falkovnian with such passion, I felt it rather insulting. My presents has peaked someone's interest it turns out. I'm uncertain, as it could be any number of women at the Merriment, the Falk speaking Elf, or even my dear fráulien.  Yet, I know the face of the man and his name.  Joáchim. It seems he fears going back to Falkovnia, away from his little strudel of a Dementlieu woman. I, once again blame myself.

   Here I come waltzing into town wearing my usual family coat, bearing the sigil of Vlad Drakov. Which, I still wear on occasion within the city or taverns. The roads are a different story, since my encounter with a witch swordsman. Joáchim did inform me of a rather interesting thing, which I could use to my advantage. Falkovnian Mercenaries have entered Port-a-Lucine to assist with law enforcement.  If you think for a second that it's a mercenary company, then you're rather desperate. All them Falkovnians and not in service to the King? I'd sooner trust the Vistani to welcome me with opens arms. This does give me an idea to visit Dementeliu, that way my trail leads whomever may come after me to Port-a-Lucine. Which I will of course be in Barovia, while they go after a false lead.

[Salty_Soykaf]

Dear Diary,

After countless caravans from Vallaki to Krofburg, I managed to make a modest sum. I discovered the Undead and beast-men roam these lands, and I couldn't hurt them, I shat my self. Literally, I am glad that I wear brown pants. Thanks to a shovel wielding vagrant, I found silver can harm the beast-men. So my coin went to acquiring equipment, and silver gilded weaponry. So far I've managed to purchase a longsword, a steel helm, and plate armor. These items are rather impressive quality, and I will have to maintain them by myself now. I'll now be able to practice not only bare fighting, but fighting in armour on foot.

So it seems that my idea for Port-a-Lucine would be disastrous. It turns out the company of mercenaries is lead by one; General Von Krauss Kraus..? Either way, it's a General. He has a list of his men, known deserters, and will decide the fate of any he finds. On top of that, Falkovnian mercenaries was shot dead in the streets. Murdered possibly by a veteran or a spouse who's lost someone from the last war. It may be best to just sit tight in Barovia, head to the Broken Bell, have a pint, and wait for it to all blow over.

[Salty_Soykaf]

Dear Diary,

It's been a while since I've written. There's some things of note. being a mild thorn in the Fox's paw. Simple things like harassing the Korporal, calling their leader "Kommondant". I find them to be a joke, organization wise. Majority of their ranks come from Dementlieu, the others are refugees or Outlanders.

 This is all well and good for a Free Company, but the joke of it is how they recruit and rank their people. If I understand my companion , they judge your worth by a rather uncivilized methods. They first must sign a contract and then try to "break" their new recruits. Depending on when they break determine their ranking within the Company. If enough time passes during this process and they decide to leave, it's desertion.

I find it a rather insulting method to "weed out" undesirables. It's as if they're mimicking Falkovnia with Borcan bureaucracy. I don't even see how they're a Free Company, to be honest. Dementlieu citizens recruited for a Dementlieu militia is more like it. The one thing that impresses me, though, is their equipment. The man-at-arms wears a thick breastplate if able, firearms, and has access to cannons. While their leader does impress me, I'm not a fan of nepotism. One should never make their wife second in command.

[Salty_Soykaf]

[Tucked into the pages of the diary is a  document; Mining rights from Krofburg]

Mining claim for Vein Eight

   This document signifies a contract between the holder, signature below, and Constanta Lazarescue. This is on the behalf of Lord Bochinsky, Burgomaster of Krofburg. This claim permits the bearer to mine, or hire miners, for the claim stated in this document. The bearer of this claim will pay a tax of ten percent on profits made, and will be expected to keep suitable records to disclose their earnings and outgoings.

   The bearer of this claim will also keep records of those  mining this claim before operations start. This clause does not apply if the owner is the only one involved. This list will be provided to the Militia to avoid theft of resources. Should the bearer of this document break laws, or otherwise found unsuitable, the contract will be revoked. The claim will return to the ownership of the Steward of Krofburg.  The Burgomaster and Stewardship retain the rights to amend this contract at any time, if desired.

Signed,
Representative of Lord Bochinsky, Constanta Lazarescu.

Signed,
Otto Weiss, of Falkovnia

[Salty_Soykaf]

Dear Tara

It has been some time since I last laid eyes on your own. Yet, I cannot say the same of thinking about you. Those warm brown eyes, full of hate, and soft olive skin. Despite the fact you were a Vistani, and I had my orders, I could not contain myself. I suppose that is what I deserve giving the circumstances.

Life is a harsh mistress but Falkovnia is even harsher. I'm sure you hated me even to the end of your life. The consequences was something we both had to deal with but, you and the child didn't have to deal with it. Do I regret my choice? It's hard to say.

All these people around me, currently, speak of love and relationships. Some small part of me wishes you two were alive. Regardless of you becoming an outcast, and myself deserting from the army. I do wonder if this thing people speak of; Love. Or is it a damned soul realizing he's punishing himself?

I was only following my orders. I keep telling myself that. I was only following orders. You are Vistani scum, and our offspring shouldn't exist. My bloodline should never be giving a chance for such a thing to occur, due to Falkovia's ally.

I've been numb since that night, and the only thing helping me is the chaos I spread. The blood I spill in the name of coin. The rush of frenzy during the fighting. The risk of dying only for myself. My only wish is  that I can leave some sort of mark that I existed.

Regards, your child's father

Otto Wilhelm-Oscar Weiss.

[Salty_Soykaf]

Falkovnia. The old nest of this lost hawk. Once more my countrymen attack Dementlieu, and once more they've attacked that damnable fortress. The city of Port-a-Lucine has called for a Militia to be formed, and thankfully I'm not being dragged into it. As a matter of fact, when my old comrades arrive, I will possibly see the inside of a jail cell.

Meanwhiel, in Barovia, I've ceased the right to my silver claim. The last I visited, all of the claims were dried up. Mined by some random passerby without the guards noticing. Good thing it wasn't my money spent into, although I'm supervised they haven't come to collect yet. It's a shame my contacts dried up for that smithing job. I had great plans to build a force for myself, and attempt my own brand of vengeance.

[Salty_Soykaf]

Sat in a cell a few weeks back, fun time. Joachim arrested me under conspiracy against the Government. Which is adorable, giving he betrayed the last ruling party. I merely went to see what this "Straight-Jacket" had to say, which was the usual revolutionary speech. This time catering to the sewer dwellers of this city. His  ideology doesn't concern me, but his gold does. Joachim wishes me to be an informant for him, and the Gendarme, in regards to this man's activity. I could care enough, provided the gold is good.

My personal task in that place will be to deal with Verinne's "rat" problem. Giving her grievous injuries at the hands of a Were-Rat in Edrigan, I feel obliged to repay her for the solars she paid towards a fine some time ago. It will certainly even up that issue, regardless of her saying I don't owe anything to her. If such a beast could harm that dreadful bard, I'm in for a fight of my life.

I hope there will be a bounty.

[Salty_Soykaf]

At last, it's finally happened. I am now in contract with Verinne Van Hauste due to my "crimes" and her paying the fines and fees. She holds my life in her hands for ninety days, by Joachim's hand. Here I thought a focus would finally help ease those nightmares, but of course Joachim had to be himself. Arrogant, narcissistic fop. If he'd just cease and desist his ordering and just told me of the complain right there and then; I wouldn't of flicked a firefly into his face.

The sooner this war gets closer, the sooner I can end my time in Dementlieu. Provided Eva is among the forces invading, then again, my other siblings may be with her. It'll be a bloody family reunion, provided I survive that far. Which brings up the topic of what to do after. Strangely enough, Verinne's house slave brought it up. She asked me questions of Falkovnia, and my time working under the fuher. I admitted to her all that I did, including my own sister. While she asked questions, I reviewed her snipping of notes.  That elf is as broken as I am, and she broke me further at a realization.

It not reasonable to let people go to joachim for help, as I should seek to prevent another Tara. There will always be Tara's to attempt my redemption for all the blood I've spilled.

[Salty_Soykaf]

There will always be Tara. I now have a resolve beyond my own vengeance, of which I shall have. The man I was, he must be brought to muster, for this is a war I have to be victorious in. I do this not for the fame glory, I do this not to be remembered. I do this because it's what must be done, to silence the souls of dead that cry out for revenge. Swords will be drawn, arrows notched, magic crackling.
 I'm coming for you.  Even if it takes months, or a year. I'm coming for you.

[Salty_Soykaf]

Paste in something you're working on and edit away. Or, click the Write button and compose something new. Yesterday, I received  bitter sweet news. Joachim Schrotter is dead, and his bounty claimed. I never knew the mad Forfarian had it in him to actually do it. The temptation to ask how is rattling around in my skull, but the laws prevent me from visiting the Jail house. Suppose I'll have to think of the creative, backwater, peasantry ways of his people. One could say I'm somewhat envious of it, as I wished to do the deed myself. 

[Salty_Soykaf]

The Vulchar bends and bows.
So too do the bargeman's ship bow.
In silence, the tradesmen gaze.

Supplies at last, after several long days.
Paid for in coin and blood.
Peasants; Covered in mud.

Unloaded to ransack Warehouses for inventory.
Slowly the Tradesmen go about their bourrée.
Distribution for use to workers by end of day.

Their product; Raw material made into tools  of the trade.
Sickles, axes, and scythes for the golden wheat grown not far away.
Quickly daft hands work under pain of lashes.

Loaded to wagons, horses dashes to the south.
Precious cargo, but not as precious as what they fell.
Golden wheat for foreign affairs, not for men, less they try to rebel.

The sweet sun shines upon the fields, ripe for harvest.
Most will be made into meals, not meant for the workers bellies.
Silently the task is done, to abide two-headed lurker.

 

[Salty_Soykaf]

Verinne is dead now, killed by her curse she thought could be cured. That's just one more debt I don't have to repay, and a rather large sum it would of been.
I'll never understand her will to keep me protected, and to pay my bails. So at odds we were, in how things should be. So many issues caused because of her past, and yet I was never around to kill them for her. Shame, that.

I've grown a bit too fat for my armour, and it's a sign I need to go back to adventuring. That and my coffers are low due to buying a breastplate stretcher to fix the issue.