CS' Curse of Strahd
Han Vellsing (DEAD)
“Selûne, guard us who performs good deeds in the darkness,
for us who braves the night, so the innocent might sleep.
Shine your light on me, so that I will not waver.
Shine your light on us, so that we will find our way.
Shine your light on our enemies, so they have no place to hide!
For wherever I go, evil shall fall!"
- Han Vellsing’s personal prayer.
“Death is lighter than a feather.
Duty, heavier than a mountain."
- Han Vellsing motto.
If only he hadn’t been such a coward and ran away, he would be dead.
If only he hadn’t done what was right, trying to atone for his crimes, he would be dead.
In those two instances, Han Vellsing could have ended his own life.
In the former, Han Vellsing could have done the noble thing, the right thing. If only he had killed himself, he wouldn’t have to live this life filled with the burden of countless souls. It’s one of his two biggest regrets; by not killing himself he assured the deaths of innocents. If only he had ended his own life, others would have lived. This is his regret.
In the latter, Han Vellsing tried to end his own life, desperately wanted to. To rid himself of the horrible burden he was carrying. If not for an adamant Priestess of Sekûne who shamed him for what he was about to do, he would’ve been dead. Still thinking he would be better off dead, this is his shame.
A moon elf from humble origins, Han Vellsing was born in Silverymoon. His parents worked their hands in trade. Weaving and trading cloths and the like. Han himself grew up with the aptitude of combat. Quickly picking up the traditional elven swordsfighting his father trained him in, he continued to study warfare. He learned to handle most weapons and armour. He volounteered for the guard, going through basic training faster than most. He lived a pleasant and happy life in Silverymoon, even found himself a wife. A human girl, Scarlett. So named for her fiery red hair. If only he could remember how her hair was set ablaze by the sun…
It was on a routine patrol life took a turn for the worse for Vellsing. There had been some sightings of wolves and reports of missing livestock in the outskirts. What was reported was wolves. What the patrol found was A wolf. A werewolf. Of that night, Han Vellsing remembers little. Just a flurry of fur, fangs, claws, blood, cries, screaming and a full blood red moon. He only remembers crawling away in the night, hiding under the carcass of one of the horses.
Waking up the day after the battle, Han Vellsing realised he was the only survivor. Well, if you could truly call him a survivor. He knew what the bitemarks meant. He had heard the tales, he had read the lore. He knew what he had become, what would become of his loved ones should he return to Silverymoon. So he fled, fled away north towards the Spine of the World. For over 50 years he stalked the mountains as a werewolf, praying each fulll moon that it was orcs or goblins that would sate his blind bloodlust. That was not the case, more often than not. Humans seemed to be the preferred prey for his wolf self. Especially red-haired women.
His reign of terror in the north was stopped by a band of devotees of Selûne. After the pleading of the local communities, the church of Selûne sent experienced lycanthrope hunters to the north. By the reports they were expecting a pack of werewolves, so they were well armed and well prepared. But curiously, after tracking the movements of the suspected pack, they came to the conclusion that this was only the work of a single lycanthrope. It was under a new moon, when the strength of lycanthropes are the lowest, they confronted the werewolf. What they found though where not quite what they had expected. All they found was a moon elf in rags, curled up in the back of a cave. There were no ensuing battle, no great showdown of fang against swords. No howls, no shouts, no cries, no blood. Instead, there was only a single, hopeful question that was asked by the elf, “are you the ones to finally kill me?”
But, alas, death would not come easy for Han Vellsing. Instead the devotees of Selûne took pity in this miserable elf who had been fighting his curse for over 50 years. They removed his curse and took him back with them to a Temple of Selûne to ease him into a normal life again. To the villages they only told that the beast was gone and would never again bother anyone. After a couple of years, or maybe months, or maybe decades even (Vellsing couldn’t keep track of how long he was at the temple), he was deemed safe to return to his old life. Only there was no life to return to. His wife had re-married and was long dead. His parents he could not face after all this time, better for everyone if he remained dead. That he met an honourable end while carrying out his duty was preferable to the truth. Better for everyone if he remained dead.
This line of thinking led him down a dangerous path, as he felt that he himself would probably be better off dead. Had the faithful of Selûne really saved him? By removing his curse he only experienced more pain and sadness. He returned to the temple, he had no other place to go. His world was robbed of joy. His dreams were haunted by his victims. Wouldn’t it be better to be free from this all? But no, his fate was no to end his own life on that day. The Head Priestess saw this within him, and tried to at least ignite some spark in the elf. And so she shamed him for considering to end his life. “You owe it to the dead to live. How would you face them in the afterlife? If you run away from everything once again, not even the afterlife will bring you any amount of peace. And if living holds no purpose for you, then I command you to seek death! Find your death at the fangs of monsters and beasts. Walk where others fear to tread, chase evil that’s hiding deep in the darkness. Save as many as you can from your own fate, by seeking out the evil that preys on innocent. Bandits, beasts or monsters, someone out there is the one to give you the death that you want. I command you to find your death!” Her hope was for Vellsing to find a reason for living on his quest for finding his own death.
For the first time in years, Han Vellsing smiled. It was a purpose, a reason to continue to whatever end he might find. He was offered gear for adventuring by the temple. He picked out a greatsword and heavy armour for himself. His years as a werewolf had toughened up his body, making the wielding of such a weapon an easy task, but it had also done off with the usual grace of the elves, making heavy armour a neccessity. No more dancing steps, no more laughing as he was fighting, no beauty in his fighting. The years had transformed him. Now it was just overpowering offense, practicality and brutality. After all, mercy would be wasted upon the foes he was seeking. And so, the elf that was named Han Vellsing, was reborned. With a grim purpose to willingly walk into the darkest places of the world to root out evil. With his course set upon Daggerfall, The Deathseeker set out!