The West Marches
Scanlan the glaivewielder
Master of the Pole-Arm, human fighter.
Master of the pole-arm Scanlan uses his glaive to sweep his foe off their feet.
Scanlan grew up in a habor town from which he learned all of his sailor’s trades. He was a natural with a boat and could even tussle with the most rugged of the crew at a young age. When he wasn’t spending time with his father, the rest of the time was spent under the command of the captain’s most loyal first mate; A dragonborn named Pin’tack. The ship was always full of the stories of the great ancient brass dragons and their god bahamut. Stories of men meeting the dragon in human form or even being saved by one. Scanlan indeed inherited his father’s love of dragons as he was enthralled by the stories even till this day. Believed to be forsaken-ed, the ship was raided on an unfaithful night during a common trade route. Too Scanlan’s knowledge no one made it out a live, his father’s final words to him that he could remember as he clutched on to his belongs so tight.
“Good dragon Bahamut take pity on this old soul; save my son. Bring forth a champion to protect my boy.”
Casted overboard into the sea Scanlan’s last memories were of a burning ship and the large 3 mast of the ship collapsing into the sea before he too was swallowed. Lungs full of water, he clasped one last time for conscious before passing out seeing as Gargantuan shadowy serpent figure approaching him from underneath the waves. He thought, surely everyone will die. Later to his surprise, awakening on the beaches of the West Marches. His real adventure just now beginning.