Connor Feyholt



STR-12 DEX-15 CON-11 INT-16 WIS-13 CHA-11



Connor was with the party only a short time. While employed by Ebenyael during the party’s stay in Hirkona Connor was ambushed and replaced by a doppleganger. Once the party realized the ruse they did their best to rescue Connor but arrived only seconds too late seeing the doppleganger cut his throat.


Conner Feyholt

Some are drawn to nature because of their love for all living things. Some are there to withdraw from the evil of men. Some hide their face from civilization. Some feel a need to commune with the very spirit of the forests. These people are not Conner Feyholt.

Conner was born to William and Matilda Feyholt in the city of Freeport. His father was a sailor and his mother a fishwife. William Feyholt died at sea when Conner was still an infant. Unable to afford to stay in the city, Matilda went back to live with her family outside of Freeport. Her parents had a small farm, barely enough to feed themselves, but took in the young woman and child.

Conner spent much time listening to his grandmother Sveta weave tales of her homeland. When she was a very young girl, she had come from far away. She had sailed from the other side of the world, as she described it. Her people had lived for hundreds of years fighting vicious beasts and monsters. There were legends of The Hammersons. How they overcame demons and dragons and tamed the land. Sveta told young Conner that the Hammerson blood was within her, and so would be passed on to him. He would grow excited at the thought of being like the men in the stories. However, as he grew older, he understood that they were just stories and that it was more than likely that these men never existed, let alone be related to him somehow.

His grandfather Jareth was a more practical man. He tilled the little plot of soil and tended to the pigs to make sure that his family didn’t starve. He would take Conner out into the forests and teach him the ways to add a little extra to the table. “To hunt”, the old man would say, “is to hope for a little extra favor of the gods.” He would take Conner with him into the city. They would sell skins, felled trees, and whatever fruits of the ground that they didn’t need themselves.

On their way out of Freeport, Jareth would stop at the temple of Obad-Hai and offer some small pittance of grain or coin. “The gods probably don’t pay much attention to us common folk, but if they happen to take notice of me, I want to stay in their good graces. I figure Obad-Hai lives closer to us than any of the rest. Consider it a gift from one old man of the forest to another.”

As the years went by, Conner grew into adolescence. His skill at the hunt increased and keeping food on the table became a bit easier on Jareth. Then the sickness came.

First Matilda grew weak and feverish. Sveta tended to her daughter night and day, yet the fever would not break. Without to gold to pay the priests to come out, she turned to the herbs of the forest, but the jungle did not bear the plants of her people and she was unable to find a cure. Matilda died the night before the fever hit the rest of the family. For days Conner could hear the groans of his beloved grandparents while he himself suffered in a feverish delirium. Then he woke one night to silence. He wasn’t sure how long he had suffered, but the house was dark and the smell of death was upon the house. He lit a candle. In his weakened stated he stared at the flame for what seemed like an hour, not having the heart to seek out what he knew was waiting for him. Finally he stepped into the room where Jareth and Sveta slept. Their dead bodies lay on the bed. Their faces wracked with pain, their bodies’ void of life. He ran out of the house retching. His mind trying to rid itself of the image of everything he loved gone.

Barely able to walk he slowly forced himself back into the home. He picked up the few items he knew he would need. He smashed a lamp on the floor of the little building he had called home for 15 years then tossing the lit candle into the oily flow. Then he stood outside and watched to building burn, the bodies of his family lying within. He stood till dawn and then turned and walked toward the city.

Over the years Conner took the skills he learned from Jareth and hired himself out. He picked up the use of the sword and found he had an inclination to it. He became a scout and a guide to Freeport’s Militia when they sent forays against the Lizardfolk. He found many a lost hunter, or at least it’s body during the “Great Hunt” every year. Conner had come to understand the forest of the area. He had no particular love of the wood, but he understood it to be a tool. One that could be used to your advantage or disadvantage. Knowledge and skill was the key to utilizing this tool. The wild could be used as effectively as a sword or it could be turned against you just as easily.

Then one day he was contacted by Petra Flick. She had been contracting a group of adventurers to do some work for her. They had been very useful to her, but had gone missing on some errand for the religious groups of the area. She asked that Conner track them down, help them if necessary, and get them back to Freeport as quickly as possible. She would rather have them available at her need, then have to find others to do the same tasks they could easily perform.

Taking the job, he headed out, but not before stopping by the Temple of Obad-Hai. Every trip out, he would stop and make his small offering, just in case the god happened to notice him. It was as good a place to start as any if you wanted to trail a group of adventurers who had hired themselves off to the church.

Connor Feyholt

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