Level 11 Half-Elven Ranger
Tyr isn’t exactly the type of guy you’re like to get much information from. Perhaps, after a few drinks, he’d let slip that his mother, Almei, was indentured to a local lord in Brevoy, and how his time as a guard for his house went towards paying for that debt. Tyr doesn’t know a scrap of information about his father, and likely never will since his separation from his mother as a consequence of servitude. Somehow or another that story might blend into one relating an incident on the night watch where he claimed a thief’s life before he reached the walls, and how that started a run of luck with his master, in short order sending him with a motley band what called themselves the Aesir with orders to ‘clear out the riff-raff’ in the Stolen Lands.
About here he’d need another solid drink, or he’d probably sober up enough to realize that he’s been giving information away.
Since then, it’s been a lot of nights open to the sky, a lot of campfires, and more than a few strange and unusual things trying to make a meal out of someone or another. The campfires and the night sky are nice. His fellows make for good company, less the nastier pranks and the ever-present run-ins with fey. Not that they’re bad, mind you; they just don’t seem to take things seriously enough. Fine to have around for a good time, but not much else. But now we’re getting off-course.
About a six months ago, a rough fellow that called himself the Stag Lord moved on to another world, and the hearsay about a charter suddenly took on a new light, with Odin himself taking charge of what might well be a tiny country, carving itself right out of lands no one could take hold of. Tyr isn’t the type to enjoy the responsibilities of too much power, or fancy attire and formality, so when the possibility came up of someone keeping watch over the folk on the borderlands, he threw his hat in.
Tyr is what he’d tell you is a realist. Laws serve their purpose, and if his as well, then all is well. He watches out for himself, not for gain, but as a way of living. Growing up with his mother, he learned the values of Erastil, but now that he’s separated, independent, and has little knowledge of his own past or his father, he looks now to Nethys, but for the knowledge in his portfolio, rather than the magic most covet. He’d likely argue that a god who knows everything can’t be truly insane, but acting on that complex knowledge would likely appear insane. While his petitions for the whereabouts of his parents remains fruitless, he was recently surprised to find that a minor capacity for spellplay has been granted to him.
The concept of nobility had left a bad taste in Tyr’s mouth, so he was somewhat surprised to find himself very nearly inducted into it out in the middle of the the wilds.