| Relatives | Cellica von Gerwig (Wife - 900BR-850PR Deceased)
Reyner von Gerwig (Son - 300-500 Deceased) Mira von Gerwig (DIL - 300-510 Deceased) Luitwin von Gerwig (GS - 400-610 Deceased) Askan von Gerwig (GS - 460-720 Deceased) Alea Garnier (Daughter - 400-650 Deceased) Perceval Garnier (SIL 425-505 Deceased) Antoinette Garnier (GD 453-750 Deceased) Lucien Garnier (GS 460-800 Deceased) Aiwin Garnier (GS 460-760 Deceased) |
|---|---|
| Languages | Common, Elvish |
| Affiliations | Troverth Government |
| Aliases | Komandant Alpha |
| Marital Status | Widowed |
| Place of Birth | Old Troverth |
| Date of Death | deathdate |
| Place of Death | deathplace |
| Species | Human |
| Gender | Male |
| Height | 5' 10" |
| Weight | 180 |
| Eye Color | Grey/green |
Otto von Gerwig is quite the odd adventurer. Seen as a 60 year old human man, he has been around for much much longer. He uses a regiment of ceaseless soldiers to fight in combat, but his own swordsmanship is capable for when the going gets tough.
Physical Appearance
Otto von Gerwig stands at 5' 10", human in almost every way. He looks to be about 45-50 years old, with somewhat paler skin, a bushy grey mustache, and grey-green eyes. These features can be seen when he is not wearing his gas mask, which he does so religiously when in the company of strangers. His clothing is militaristic in nature. He wears very bland colors, dark grey pants and tunic, covered by a blue-grey great coat. He wears a somewhat ornate, polished breastplate which has the seal of Troverth is stamped onto the very top of the armor. Upon his head, he wears a dull-grey helmet, and his canvas gas mask when in front of others. In the pocket of his trenchcoat is a small rosary with a locket at the end, inside is a portrait of his recently deceased wife, and he wraps the rosary around his wrist when he enters battle.
Personality
he is a kind, caring man when not in combat. He offers advice similar to that of your grandfather, and will always have a story ready should you ask. He enjoys some of the smaller things in life, gardens, strolls, even games of chess or cards. He finds joy in the moment. When he enters battle, a different Otto is seen. He is ferocious, cunning, and commanding. Not afraid to get stuck in, he uses his loyal Ghost Regiment to fight and keep the enemy maneuvering to control the flow of battle.
History
This is the story of Otto von Gerwig
Early Life
I was born in the waning years of the Holy Wars, or so historians call it these days. It was the year 978 BR, the 20th day of the 10th month, in a small village within the borders of Troverth when it was still on Osugbo. My mother, Raina, was a sweet woman. She wanted me to enter politics, or academics, to use my mind for something other than warfare, and to have a more typical childhood. My father, Andebert, was a stoic man. Harsh at times, he prepared me for military service. He instilled lessons of discipline, and honor from a young age. Under his guidance, I excelled in my craft, and by age 10 was far above my fellow children. The von Gerwig family had a long history of service to Troverth, serving as sergeant-at-arms within the armies or in the city garrisons for generations. My raising was done to prepare me for continuing this legacy. By the time I could properly train, read, and write, I was studying swordsmanship and military doctrine. My father enrolled me into the Egilhard Military Institute, Troverth’s best, when I was 12. It was here where I continued to study military tactics and doctrine, learning from veterans and analysts alike who served in the Holy War. The regimen of training and studying was designed to break the students, and remold them into leaders for Troverth. Many of my students dropped from the program, breaking under the pressure. The cowards did not deserve the opportunity they were afforded anyway. Lessons continued, and I began to excel in my classes. By the time I was 15 the war with the dragons was over, and victory had been secured. I continued in the academy until my graduation, in 1 PR, where I earned that coveted title of sergeant-at-arms. Unfortunately, the lessons I had learned would be required sooner than anyone anticipated.
In the year 2 PR, the Realm War broke out, and Troverth’s position was threatened by Champerty. The call to arms was raised across the Empire, and I answered. I was 19 when the war began, and my first command was a small formation of pikemen, the 151st Heavy Pikes, assisting the various fronts against cavalry attack and footsoldier assaults from breaking our shield walls. We first entered combat in the year 3, fighting across various fronts with the main armies of Troverth. Casualties were low when we began, and hopes were high for a quick and decisive victory of our enemies. How wrong we were.
Military Career
We performed well in the war, until we were sent to the Phantom Front. That damned magical hole was the definition of hell. Champerty forces ground us down slowly but surely, withering our attacks with demons and magic. Tactics which had been successful previously, were no longer an option. The enemy combined a superior defensive position with magical enhancements to almost prevent a total frontal assault. As we ground forward, the formation began to crumble under the weight of loss and the attrition we faced. Eventually, we received word that the Champerts were attempting to encircle both of our flanks, and they nearly succeeded. Had it not been for one shogun, surely we would have been eradicated that day. As the Phantom Front continued to grind on, more and more of our formation fell, until the day I received the injury which removed me from frontline service.
In the year 15, my formation was reduced to 36% strength, but no reinforcements ever reached us. Command continued to funnel in the unskilled fodder they called the Barakas. These troops shored our center, but our veteran formations were thrown into the grinder to defend the flanks. The 151st was one such unit, and our meager number of men were caught out in a salient because an order to back step was never received. Our enemy took full advantage, and a series of attacks from demon and soldier alike smashed into both of the formation’s flanks. Axes, swords, spears all flashed and danced in the light, the blood of my men and the enemy mixed upon the ground. As the dead and wounded mounted, only a handful remained. We were crushed, surrounded, and slowly being picked off. The demons were the worst, they enjoyed the show, choosing not to outright kill us as they encircled our formation. They cut and stabbed at tendons, joints, and other non-vital areas. They bled us, slowing us to the point we could not fight back. Some of my men were pulled through the surrounding shield wall, their wails resounded over the cacophony of battle for what seemed like hours. AS the 151st was reduced to nothing, we continued to fight. Surrender was not an option because prisoners clearly were not being taken, and my men performed valiantly, down to the last man. As we tried desperately to break out, I felt something grab my sword hand, and a very hot sensation flooded my arm, followed by a very quick cold. I screamed, and looked to my side. A Champerty soldier was holding my severed forearm, and a demon’s blade was retracting to behind the wall. This was the last I remembered before falling unconscious on the field.
I awoke some time later, the sounds of wounded and dying men filled my ears. I looked around, and saw tent walls, and men and women clad in white clambering around what seemed like a sea of men. Recent casualties I suspected, but I had no idea how I reached the rear lines. This hospital was a despicable site. Men and boys receiving what little care the overwhelmed staff could give while they lay waiting to die. Laying in the officer’s ward, which was by no means any better than what the common soldier resided in, I was simply placed on a stretcher and given care first. I had nearly given up, or I think I had nearly given up. This particular experience is viewed through a fog as it was not entirely something I would look back upon in clarity due to my condition. I do remember my arm, removed from just below the elbow, was slowly bleeding through the bandages. Nurses and aides were constantly assuring me a healer would be by soon, but I was losing too much blood too quickly for this to be true, it was only a matter of time before I simply did not have enough to keep me alive. I laid there, staring at the tent roof thinking of my mother. How would she react to the death of her son? Would she recover? What would father think? Would I have done enough for him to be proud of his son? What of my sisters? They were too young to understand the concept of death, not in its entirety. As I lay there, waiting to either die or receive a miracle from some higher power, a healer arrived. In my delirious state, I thought she was an angel. Soft, golden hair, a voice so reassuring I believed I would rise from hearing it, a touch soft enough to instantly calm me. She removed my bandage, and she uttered an incantation, and with a soft glow the bleeding stopped. She brushed my hair from my face and that was the moment I fell in love. Her features, elven and beautiful, came into focus. She smiled down at me, saying that everything would be alright, I was able to go home. I looked at her, and held the hand placed upon my face, and asked her what she was called. Cellica, an angel sent to save me this day. As I recovered, we spoke more and more, connecting and learning more of each other. She was a high elf, whose family had established themselves well before Troverth came to power. She offered her healing services when war broke out, a sort of grand adventure for herself, and to practice her abilities. We became friends, and As my healing sessions began to end, a captain came to my bedside. I suspected I knew what he was going to tell me, and he confirmed my suspicions. I was relieved of duty, honorably discharged for wounds received in the field. I was also told I was going to receive the Emperor’s Cross, for distinguished leadership and service in the face of the enemy. Additionally, for my injuries, I would be receiving the Blooded Amulet. Finally, the captain gave me the campaign ribbon for the Phantom Front, for participation in the battle here. These commendations would certainly make my father proud, even if I returned with my injuries. After congratulations were given, by both the officer and Cellica, I was allowed to leave. However, I elected to remain as an aide, choosing to provide reassurance to the wounded that help would arrive, or writing letters to those families who had lost a son. I did this because I wanted something to flower with the elf who saved my life, and eventually something did.
I volunteered with the hospital service for another year, during this time Cellica expressed interest in perhaps allowing me to court her. It was a wonderful revelation, and soon after, I asked for her hand in courtship. We remained together for a year, working in the hospitals, until I received word that my father was ill. I had asked her to join me, so that my family may meet her, to which she very enthusiastically accepted.
Civilian Life (Before Kids)
Life after the war and building family and business
Civilian Life (After Kids)
Birth of kids and grandkids
Guard of Troverth
Time as a guard and beyond
More Modern Times
Year 800 onward
Languages
Common, Elvish
Powers and Abilities
He can summon a double from his Ghost Regiment when in combat, and can use his centuries of martial practice to keep the enemy where he wants them.
Attacks and Weapons
He uses a very well-kept officer's saber.
