Ridolf

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Ridolf grew up in the Northlands. He learned the way of the north from his father, how to hunt the powerful elk, and how to keep the proud wolves at bay. His father died when he was ten, and his mother made her way to Stoneheart for safety from the harsh land. She taught him many of the ways of the elves at the same time he was learning about the dwarves. She died within two seasons of his apprenticeship to Ghimlock Boarslayer. The lad threw himself in the arts of war, until he'd turned sixteen. He felt the need to see the green lands of his mother's birth, and bid his dwarven friends farewell.

During his travels, he found a half-dead hedge-wizard who he nursed back to health. The fellow called himself Drake, and turned out to have more knowledge of magic than his lowly station would give clue to. Drake offered to teach him magic in return for the help, and so Ridolf decided to give his quest a rest for a few more years as he learned the mysteries of a land beyond the sight of the eyes.

He had finished his lessons from Drake, and resumed his quest. He was in Celinus, and he found how much dear silver it would cost him to finish his journey. He was looking for work as a caravan guard when he heard of the King's proclamation to form the Phoenix Company.

Since then, he was granted a beautiful warhorse by the elven princess, granted strength well beyond the ken of mortal men, and became a paladin of Stoneheart, Dwarven god of vengance. He killed a wyvern single-handedly, carved a kingdom out of the northern tribes that spawned his father, and relinquished its rule. Despite his long years, his elven blood is keeping him looking as young as a man half his age.

Ridolf bears the slightly swept ears and facial features of his elven heritage. The rest of his body has little trace of his lineage, for though he has the height of an elf, his shoulders are nearly as broad as he is tall. He wears his dark hair short, and wears a beard resembling that of his dwarven mentor. Personality

Ridolf is a man of simple tastes. When he laughs, he laughs loudly. When he fights, it is with the fury of a northern wolf. Very seldom has he felt the ability to speak well to people, but when the mood strikes him, he brings forth words that make legends.