Torgil
Torgil Ironwood (a.k.a. Hex Blade)
Childhood: A Legacy of Strength
Torgil was born into a family that valued both craftsmanship and warrior’s blood. His father was a skilled blacksmith, known throughout their village for creating some of the finest weapons and armor in Lóthiriel. But it was his uncle, a half-elf warrior with a storied past, who would shape the young boy’s future. Torgil’s uncle would often speak of the Fey Wild, a place of untamed magic and danger, spinning tales of elves who had once walked its paths and the creatures that lurked in its shadows.
Torgil, with his father’s steady hands and his uncle’s warrior spirit, grew up with a natural affinity for combat. By the time he was barely into his teens, he could outshoot most men with a bow and hold his own in a sparring match with a blade. It wasn’t just his skill that made him stand out—it was his instinctive understanding of survival and strategy that set him apart.
At the same time, Torgil’s father taught him about the art of craftsmanship. From repairing weapons to forging new tools, he learned that strength wasn’t just about brute force—it was also about the patience and skill needed to create something lasting. These early years, marked by love and discipline, would shape the man he would become—strong, determined, but also quietly reflective, always questioning how much strength was enough to protect the things you loved.
Escaping The First Blow: The Destruction of Innocence
At fifteen, Torgil had already experienced the thrill of the hunt and the quiet satisfaction of a well-forged blade. But when the Necrosis Virus came, it shattered his world.
He had been on the outskirts of Lóthiriel, hunting in the forests nearby, when the first signs of the plague began. It started as a whisper—rumors of strange sicknesses—before it exploded into horror. The infected, twisted by the virus, came first as people, then as monsters. It spread like wildfire, consuming the city with brutal, unrelenting speed. Torgil witnessed the madness from the edge of the chaos. The shrieks of the infected, the terrifying twisting of flesh, and the horrific death of familiar faces left a mark deeper than any wound could.
His uncle had trained him to survive, but no amount of skill could prepare him for this. Torgil’s only choice was to flee. He ran, sprinting into the forest, abandoning the only world he had known to escape the death that chased him. He felt the cold weight of failure—he couldn’t save his family, couldn’t even stop the horrors unfolding before him.
Trapped in the Fey Wild: Survival and Madness
Torgil’s flight didn’t take him to safety—it took him to the Fey Wild, a place that had only ever existed in the stories his uncle told. The Fey Wild was as beautiful as it was dangerous, and Torgil was ill-prepared for its alien world.
Days bled into weeks, and weeks into months.
The first year was nothing but survival: food was scarce, and the beasts here weren’t the kind he had been trained to hunt. They were magical and mysterious, and the forests seemed to shift beneath his feet. In the beginning, he thought he would never make it out.
The loneliness of the Fey Wild was a constant companion, gnawing at his sanity.
During this period, Torgil would encounter many strange magical creatures, observing their patterns and habits as his uncle taught him, and by means of the mysterious Fay Wild, he would find he gained an instinctive understanding of curse magic.
This would manifest as a kind of Hex spell, becoming a key element in his fighting style within the Fey Wild.
It wasn’t until the second year that Torgil encountered something truly otherworldly. In a moment of desperation, a good fey creature found him—perhaps an elf or a dryad, but one whose light seemed to chase away the darkness of his despair. The creature, sensing Torgil’s potential, took him under its wing. It taught him the Misty Step, an ability that allowed him to slip through space like smoke in the air—a skill that became his saving grace in the wilds.
He could escape danger, vanish in the blink of an eye, and reappear elsewhere; but this power didn’t come without its price.
When the time came... it would be one of the only methods to increase his chances of leaving the Fey Wild.
Witnessing the Aftermath: Ashes of a Dream
Torgil’s return to Lóthiriel was a bitter one. He had spent three years in the Fey Wild, and when he emerged, he found the city he had once called home reduced to ruins. The plague had come and gone, and with it, everything he had known. His family—his mother, father, and siblings—were lost to the infection. There were no signs of their bodies, no markers of where they had fallen. Only the smell of ash and the silence of death remained.
The streets were empty, the markets abandoned. What was once a bustling symbol of unity between humans and elves had now become a graveyard. The Necrosis Virus had not only stolen his family but also the world he had known, and it had done so with brutal efficiency. Torgil had been spared by luck, by chance—but his survival felt like a cruel mockery. The city was gone, and with it, any sense of peace.
Standing amidst the ruins, Torgil mumbled to himself, his voice thick with disbelief. "Why did this happen?" The words fell from his lips like a prayer, but he knew there would be no answer. No one would explain this nightmare, no one could return what had been taken from him.
It was in this broken silence that a group of wandering soldiers approached. They were part of a unit that had been cleansing the city, burning the remnants of infected bodies and purging any trace of the virus. Their armor was marked with the insignia of Mechanis, and the weariness in their eyes matched the desolation around them.
One of the soldiers, noticing Torgil standing among the charred remains, spoke up, his voice rough from the smoke and ash. “You looking for answers, stranger?”
Torgil’s golden eyes lifted, narrowing as he met their gaze. He didn’t respond immediately, still lost in the weight of the city’s ruin, but then he asked, “What happened here? Who did this?”
The soldier shifted uneasily. “The Dreadspire Radicals. The infection… they’re the ones who unleashed it—used the Necrosis Virus as a weapon. Many people think they were behind the fall of this city, and the virus’s spread. They think it was no accident.”
The words struck Torgil like a blow to the chest. The Dreadspire Radicals—the very name seemed to fuel the fire of rage inside him. The fanatics who had twisted the virus into a weapon, who had brought ruin to everything he had known.
“They believe they’re purging the world of the unclean,” the soldier continued. “Only the pure survive, and they’ll burn anything that gets in their way. Humans, elves, the undead... all of it. This was just the start.”
Torgil felt the rage build in him, raw and unfiltered. These were the men, the radicals, who had turned his world into ash. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles cracked. “Then they’ll burn with it.”
The soldiers gave him a glance, unsure of whether his words were a threat or a promise, before they turned and moved on to their task, leaving Torgil alone amidst the wreckage.
And in that moment, something cold and unforgiving burned inside him. He had spent years in the Fey Wild, searching for a way to escape his own torment. Now, there was a new kind of torment—one that he could fight, one that he could end. His journey was no longer about survival. It was about vengeance.
The Dreadspire Radicals had destroyed his home, and now, they would pay.
Joining the Army: A New Kind of Battle
After the horrors of the Necrosis Virus and the destruction of his home, Torgil found a new kind of discipline in the army. He joined as a common foot soldier, eager to leave the ghosts of the past behind and to test his strength in the brutal reality of war. His previous training and instincts had honed him into a formidable fighter, but he kept the full extent of his abilities hidden—no one needed to know of his experiences in the Fey Wild, nor the hex magic he had learned there. After all, a man never shows all his cards in battle.
In his early days, Torgil’s commanding officer was a towering figure—a barbarian from the Totem Warrior path, a man who wore the spirit of the bear like a second skin. The officer’s sheer raw power and unflinching resolve impressed Torgil, and the two men quickly formed a bond. The bear totem warrior’s battle tactics—uncompromising, direct, and ferocious—resonated with Torgil’s own survival instincts. As the days passed, respect grew between them, and the grizzled officer’s wisdom began to shape Torgil into a different kind of warrior.
A Show of Bravery: Breaking the Line
Torgil had always understood the value of patience and precision, but it wasn’t until his first direct confrontation that he learned the weight of raw courage. The battle was fierce—an unrelenting clash of wills. In the heat of combat, with the chaos of battle raging around him, Torgil’s instincts kicked in. He stormed the enemy lines, a force of nature, hacking his way through the enemy with reckless abandon. His sword cleaved through flesh and bone, and his sheer force of will was enough to throw the opposing side into disarray.
He didn’t fight for glory, but to protect his comrades, and in that moment, his bravery was undeniable. In the midst of the fray, he used his Misty Step—vanishing in a cloud of mist to close the distance with the enemy officer, a vicious general known for orchestrating much of the carnage. With a precision that was almost otherworldly, Torgil appeared behind the officer, throwing him into the fray, causing the enemy’s carefully constructed lines to fracture and fall apart.
It was a moment of brilliance, one that would mark him as a rising star in the army, but to Torgil, it was just the first significant step in his crusade.
Audacious Scheme: Turning the Tide
The war had dragged on for months, with neither side giving an inch. It was a brutal, endless stalemate—what they called a “tug of war” in the trenches. But Torgil’s growing frustration with the conflict and his keen sense for opportunity led him to hatch a plan that would change the course of the war.
He reached out to two figures known for their unorthodox methods—Tiamat and Vin, fellow soldiers who had their own brand of cunning. Together, they formed an unlikely trio. With their combined skills and resourcefulness, they devised a daring scheme, one that was as risky as it was audacious. With their plan in motion, they turned the tide of the battle, shaking the enemy’s confidence to its core.
Their actions didn’t go unnoticed. The three of them caught the eye of a more elite combat espionage unit, and from then on, they became known as the Bloody Misfits—a title given with equal parts admiration and wariness. They were an anomaly, a group that fought by their own rules and didn’t care much for the constraints of military decorum. The Bloody Misfits were born, and Torgil, Tiamat, and Vin were its leaders.
Learning New Skills: The Price of Power
With their newfound notoriety, the Bloody Misfits were granted access to specialized training. Under the watchful eye of elite commanders and spies, Torgil honed his combat prowess even further. While his Misty Step and hex skills were valuable, they weren't enough on their own to face the challenges ahead. His training ranged from advanced tactics to the more subtle arts of combat espionage—skills that would prove invaluable in the coming years.
Torgil grew into a more versatile fighter, able to adapt to any situation. He became a master of blending in, reading the battlefield like a chessboard, and using every advantage available to him. But as his skills sharpened, so did the realization that the war, though important, was never going to be enough. It was a stepping stone—a distraction from the greater purpose that called to him.
A Warrior Named Morgan: A Bond Forged in Fire
In the heat of war, amidst bloodshed and chaos, Torgil’s life was changed when he saved Morgan, a fierce and skilled warrior caught deep behind enemy lines. Morgan was no ordinary soldier—she was of strategic importance, and her capture or death could have crippled the morale of their foes. Their encounter was nothing short of fateful, and the bond they formed in the heart of the enemy’s territory was forged in fire.
At first, their connection was one of necessity. They fought side by side, surviving the brutalities of war and watching each other’s backs in the most perilous situations. But as time went on, the bond between them grew into something deeper. The quiet moments between battles, the shared glances and silent understanding, turned into a connection that neither had anticipated. They became more than comrades—they became allies in every sense of the word.
Morgan, a warrior as relentless as she was compassionate, had a way about her that softened Torgil’s usually stoic demeanor. And Torgil, with his gruff exterior, found in Morgan a partner who understood the weight of battle better than most. They weren’t just fighting for victory anymore; they were fighting for each other.
After a particularly harrowing escape from enemy lines, their time together became more than just survival. In the midst of the bloodshed, they found comfort in each other’s presence. The love that blossomed between them wasn’t just born of necessity; it was built on respect, shared hardship, and the realization that they were stronger together.
With the war nearing its end, Torgil and Morgan made a decision that neither had planned for. They would marry. The decision wasn’t based on romantic idealism; it was a commitment—a promise that even though war had torn their worlds apart, they could still carve out something good from the wreckage. It wasn’t a grand affair—there was no ceremony in the traditional sense—but it was deeply meaningful. In the midst of the carnage, it was a vow of mutual support and unyielding loyalty.
Their wedding wasn’t marked by lavish celebrations or public fanfare. It was a quiet moment in a world consumed by violence—a promise that no matter where the war ended, they would always find their way back to each other, as long as fate allowed. It was a pact born of battle, a promise that neither of them would ever be alone in this brutal world.
The Bloody Misfits' Stay Behind
When the war eventually came to a close, Torgil and Morgan both understood that their paths would diverge. The battle against the Dreadspire Radicals wasn’t over. The factions they had fought so hard to defeat were still out there, hidden in the ashes of the conflict. Morgan, though exhausted from the war and longing for peace, had her own role to play in the rebuilding efforts, a role that would take her far from Torgil’s side.
And so, despite the love and connection that had grown between them, they parted ways. But there was no bitterness, no anger—only understanding that the world still needed them in different ways. They had fought for each other, and now they would fight their own battles, knowing the other was always in their heart.
Before Morgan left, they shared one last quiet moment together. Their farewell wasn’t dramatic or tearful; it was simply a parting of two warriors who had shared the most intimate of bonds during the most trying of times.
Torgil, now more determined than ever, chose to stay behind and continue the fight. He had made it through the chaos of war, but now, there was a new mission: the Dreadspire Radicals were still out there, and the remnants of their poison needed to be rooted out. Torgil couldn’t walk away from this unfinished business—not after all he had lost.
And so, with Morgan’s love and memory fueling his resolve, Torgil set out to hunt down the radicals who had ravaged his world. His journey was no longer just about survival; it was about vengeance, justice, and the hope of a world where the ashes of the past could finally be cleansed.
Granted Honors
Torgil’s reputation as a mercenary was forged in the heat of war, but it was his tactical brilliance and unwavering sense of duty that earned him the highest honors from his homeland of Mechanis. The first of these came after a particularly brutal engagement at the Battle of Steel Gate, where Torgil led a group of soldiers in an audacious night raid, striking behind enemy lines and decimating an entire battalion. His actions saved countless lives and helped turn the tide in what seemed like a losing campaign. For his strategy and courage under fire, Torgil was granted the Mechanis Silver Star, an award reserved only for those whose actions reshaped the course of battle.
The second medal came after his successful leadership in the Siege of Valsus, where he helped secure the mountainous stronghold that had been key to controlling the northern regions of Mechanis. His ability to unite soldiers of all ranks, his calm under pressure, and his innovative use of guerrilla tactics made the siege a victory against all odds. The Gold Crescent of Valor, awarded to the elite few who demonstrated both exceptional leadership and unshakable honor, was a fitting recognition of Torgil’s efforts.
But there was another, quieter honor—one that few knew about, but one that meant more to Torgil than the medals themselves. It was a storage ring, a powerful artifact crafted by his closest friend, Wayland, an inventor and master craftsman from their time in the army. The ring was a simple, unassuming item on the surface, but it was capable of holding far more than its size suggested—an artifact of immense practical value, but also a token of a deep friendship. To Torgil, the ring was a reminder of the brotherhood they’d shared during their grueling campaigns. It was his most cherished possession, and one he often found himself holding when memories of those days surfaced.
A Legend of the Underworld
As The Bloody Misfits, Torgil and his band of mercenaries carved a name for themselves in the underworld. They weren’t just any mercenaries—they were feared and respected for their ability to remove bad people from the world. For every corrupt lord, dangerous warlord, and oppressive criminal syndicate, there was a whisper that the Misfits were coming. They were hired not only to fight but to end those who used power for harm, from ruthless tyrants to violent slavers who would destroy innocent lives for profit.
But their true test came with the reclamation of Ironspire, a nation left broken by the ravages of war. After the conflict had subsided, Ironspire was a fractured land, its cities burned to the ground and factions vying for control. It was a region steeped in both despair and opportunity, and Torgil’s Bloody Misfits were hired to secure it—an undertaking that would prove as grueling as it was monumental.
The Misfits didn’t just win battles in Ironspire—they reshaped the land. They became more than just hired swords; they were builders, helping to restore broken communities and bring justice where none existed. Torgil’s group used their combat prowess and strategic genius to dismantle the criminal organizations and corrupt factions that had ravaged the land. But they also stood as guardians for the innocent, offering protection to those who had nowhere else to turn.
Their work was often brutal, and Torgil’s methods, though effective, earned them a reputation as both saviors and harbingers of change. Their successes were whispered about in taverns and back alleys, and soon, The Bloody Misfits were known as the ones who didn’t just fight against evil—but ended it, when necessary. Their shadowy presence in the underworld earned them both fear and reverence. They didn’t just kill bad people—they eradicated the threats that destabilized entire nations.
And when the job was done, Torgil would always stand tall, a figure who had turned the tide not just with his blade but with his commitment to a world made better through action.
Scouting Potential
As Torgil’s name spread throughout the underworld, he began to hear rumors about two young warriors—two fighters who seemed to be getting into trouble everywhere they went. It wasn’t their raw strength or brashness that intrigued him, but something else—an instinctive intelligence, a curiosity in how they approached the world. They made reckless decisions, but they also showed potential. It was this balance of danger and potential that caught Torgil’s eye.
Rather than immediately approaching them, Torgil decided to observe from the shadows. For a full year, he tracked their movements, learning how they handled themselves in a variety of situations. Their first test came when they were caught in a skirmish with local bandits. Most would have panicked, but Torgil saw how they adapted to the chaos—how one used quick thinking to lay traps and the other relied on precision and deadly combat skills. The encounter was messy, but they survived. That was the first lesson they taught him: they had what it took to survive.
Then came the second test: a job gone wrong. Torgil had given them a mission—one that seemed simple, retrieving a rare item from a heavily guarded merchant’s caravan. What seemed like an easy task turned into a nightmare when they were ambushed by bounty hunters. They could have run, but instead, they fought back, making clever use of the environment, outwitting their enemies and narrowly escaping. Torgil watched from a distance, studying their choices and actions. It wasn’t just about strength—it was about cunning, adaptability, and resolve.
Over the next several months, Torgil threw in more subtle tests—small jobs meant to see how they responded under pressure, how careful they were in their decisions. He watched them make mistakes, but he also saw how they learned from each failure. They weren’t perfect, but they were rising, and Torgil admired that.
When the time was right, Torgil appeared before them—not as a shadow, but as an opportunity. He gave them a choice: to join The Bloody Misfits, to be part of a legendary mercenary group, or to continue their path alone, in the dark, uncertain of where it would lead.
They chose to join, and Torgil, with a knowing smile, welcomed them into the fold. As their mentor, he never rushed their growth, but he set expectations high. He didn’t just teach them how to fight—he taught them how to think, how to lead, and how to survive when the world felt like it was stacked against them. His guidance was steady and wise, and he made sure to give them room to grow, knowing that the world would be their ultimate teacher.
Torgil’s mentorship wasn’t about molding them into his own image—it was about giving them the skills to forge their own paths. He knew that the world they were entering would require more than just brute strength or wisdom—it would require the ability to navigate shades of grey, to make decisions when the stakes were high. He watched carefully as they adapted, stepping back just enough to let them shape their futures, while still being a constant presence of strength and guidance in their lives.
For Torgil, this was a new kind of battle—one where his greatest weapon was not his sword, but his wisdom.
Physical Description
General Physical Condition
- He is an Ancient Humans whos' genes specialize in strength.
- His muscle density is incredibly high, and so is his weight.
- He is very healthy.
- He is Fey Touched
Identifying Characteristics
- Tall
- Piercing golden eyes
Physical quirks
- Since he weighs a lot, chairs and wood floors don't agree with him too much.
Special abilities
- Misty Step
Mental characteristics
Accomplishments & Achievements
Multiple audacious assassinations during the Great War.
2 Medals of Bravery.
Mental Trauma
- Witnessed the events of The First Blow and lost his family. (Loss of loved ones, and the Natural Dangers)
- Ended up in the fey wild during his retreat and experienced severe starvation during this time. (Starvation and the monster of the Fey Wild)
Personality Characteristics
Motivation
- He has a strong vendetta with the Dreadspire Radicals and he wants to root them out.
Social
Contacts & Relations
- The money man
- Ironspire handler
- Morgan, past love interest, and person he saved during the Great War
Family Ties
None
Relationships
History
Torgil first met Morgan during the Great War when he saved her from the forces of the Dreadspire Radicals . They would have a rocky friendship in the beginning due to similar occupations. This would eventually turn into an actual relationship, although it would only last for a short time. They still love each other, but they both have missions to complete.
Nicknames & Petnames
Nut Cracker and Jaw Breaker
Relationship Reasoning
Love and Respect
Commonalities & Shared Interests
They want to see the Dreadspire Radicals destroyed. They want to settle down together eventually.
History
Nicknames & Petnames
Tiamat calls Torgil (Bitch) Torgil calls Tiamat (Jerk)
Relationship Reasoning
Trust and Respect
Shared Acquaintances
Morgan
Wealth & Financial state
- Has a contact in Ironspire that will invest his funds; Ironspire will either get payments made to him in cash or send it to his contact.
- There are several small gold deposits in every major city and country he has visited, just in case.
- Torgils' Ring of Holding
- Thieves Can't
- Common
- Sylvan
- Eleven
- Demonic (read/write)
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