Oscar

One of the party members from The Wreck.

Quick Reference

Name	Oscar
Race	Halfling
Age	Young Adult
Class	Ranger
Background	Outlander

Background

Deep within an uncharted forest where trees reach the sky and silence speaks louder than words, a halfling infant was left behind. No one came looking. No one called his name. Wrapped only in a coarse blanket embroidered with ancient faded runes, the child cried beneath the canopy—until the forest answered.

From the shadows emerged a wolf—enormous, gray, and silent—with eyes that shimmered not with hunger, but with understanding. But this was no ordinary beast. It was Elaren, an old druid who had long ago shed civilization and taken the shape of a wolf to live in balance with the wild. Elaren knew who the child was—and why he’d been left behind. But he kept his true form hidden from the halfling.

The Halfling never learned to speak. He learned from the world around him: the way vines creak before a storm, how the wind shifts before danger, how a flick of an ear or twitch of a tail can speak volumes. He stalked, hunted, climbed, fought. His senses sharpened. His thoughts became instincts. He was not raised by a man, but by the law of the forest and the rhythm of the pack.

But not all instincts are animal. Sometimes, the Halfling dreams. He dreams of a woman’s voice singing softly in a tongue he does not know—fluid, mournful, and ancient. The melody wraps around his heart like vines around a stone. Sometimes he wakes with tears on his face. The song feels like a memory, but not one of his own.

As he aged, he developed talents of his own—keen tracking, an unnatural bond with beasts, and an ability to vanish into the wild as easily as a shadow. To him, Elaren was not a druid. He was simply the Wolf—a guardian, a guide, a parent. During this period, the Halfling never left the forest. Sometimes he would go to its edge. In the distance he would see buildings, people, but as curious as he was, he never dared to leave. On rare occasions, travelers entered the forest. The Halfling would stalk them, observe them, mimic them. Somewhere deep inside, he knew he was not so different—but he never knew how to be like them.

At a later age, even though the Halfling never became familiar with the civilized world or learned of common technology, it came naturally to him how to create simple tribal clothing and a spear. The spear wasn’t much more than a short and sharp stone tied to a branch, but it was useful enough to hunt rabbits, squirrels and deer.

And then, one day… The Wolf was gone.

No scent. No trail. No howl in the distance. The Wolf vanished as mysteriously as he had appeared, leaving Oscar without direction for the first time in his life.

Driven by instinct and a gnawing need for answers, the Halfling left the forest and stepped into the world of stone, fire, and noise. The so-called "civilized world" confounds him—its languages strange, its customs baffling, its rules invisible and absurd. He does not speak. He does not bow. He eats with his hands, sleeps on rooftops, and growls when threatened.

But more confusing than any city is the reflection in the water. He sees the halfling face he’s always had… but it feels wrong. Unfamiliar. His mind and soul twitch in rhythms of fang and paw, not speech and song. As he watches others—laughing, weeping, bartering, building—he finds himself torn between two truths: "Am I pretending to be a halfling, or pretending not to be?"

Through it all, he searches. For the Wolf. For the truth. For the reason he was cast away.

His only clue: the runes on his childhood blanket—worn and faint, but pulsing with meaning he cannot yet decipher. He carries them not as a comfort, but as a question. Something is watching him. Something is waiting. Whether it is nature, fate, or something darker, Oscar walks toward it barefoot and unafraid.

While foraging near the forest’s edge, the Halfling stumbled upon an orchard of apple trees. As careful as he was to grab a handful of apples without being noticed, he did not notice the owner of the orchard looking at him from a distance. An elderly man simply observed the young halfling without intervening. For this human observing the Halfling was almost entertaining, but at the same time the man pitied the boy. After a moment’s stillness, he fled back into the trees—apples in hand, heart pounding, belly full.

For the next couple of weeks the boy returned daily to the orchard and the man would wait for him. It took him a couple of days to notice the man, but when he did, he did not run or try to hide. He looked at the man with a curious eye, analyzed the man’s behavior. The man was calm, stayed at a safe distance, did not move or approach the kid. After this first encounter and every day after the man would be sitting at the fence of the orchard closer to where the boy would enter. The boy would notice the man, but focus on his objective. Until one day the man spoke to him: “What is your name?” The boy got spooked, showed his teeth and growled at the man. The man directly understood that the boy did not understand him, nor spoke in common tongue. The man looked at the Halfling and spoke: “Oscar… I will name you Oscar” while pointing at the young boy. After a short hesitation the boy fled back to the forest. While enjoying his well earned “stolen” apples he repeated the words of the man in his head: “Os-car”. It made him curious… He decided that the next day he would return to the orchard and find to the old man again.

The next morning, something felt wrong. Oscar crept toward the orchard—but the old man was gone. He did not smell, see, nor hear the man. No scent. No sign. No breath on the wind. His instincts screamed flight—but something deeper urged him forward. He wanted to find the man. Learn from him. During this moment of hesitation, he heard a whistling sound, and before he knew it, a bola had struck his legs. Instantly, Oscar drew his spear, started growling and hissing, and looked around him. Within seconds, a group of men on horseback had surrounded him—clad in bright, rattling metal that clanked with every movement. In a brief moment, he saw the old man in the background being held by one of them. The man holding him looked similar to the others. Before Oscar could act, a mace struck the back of his head—and everything went black.

When he woke up, one word rings through his head: Os-car…. Oscar…

Appearance

“At first I thought he was a child lost in the woods. Small, crouched low, spear in hand—but there was something off. Not fear. Not weakness. He didn’t flinch or speak. Just watched. Those eyes were too sharp, too still. Blue as river ice, but wild, like they’d never seen a mirror or a ceiling.”

“His clothes weren’t clothes—just bark and fur stitched together with twine or vine. Feet bare, legs scratched, arms wrapped in hide like a creature preparing for winter. Around his neck hung teeth—not trophies, not jewelry. A message, maybe. Or protection.”

“He didn’t blink much. Didn’t move unless he had to. Like a fox that learned long ago to stay silent if it wants to live. When he finally did move, it was sudden—low to the ground, deliberate. He gripped that primitive spear like it meant more than life itself. Like it was the only truth he understood.”

“I tried to speak to him. He just tilted his head. Not confused—just... uninterested. Then he was gone, into the brush, not a sound behind him. I swear the woods swallowed him whole.”

- Local Hunter

The journey begins, the first days...

Sitting by the fire, Oscar reflects on the last few days and how strange they have been. The only familiar thing to him was probably the of rats that he ate...

Why did they take him away? What happened to the old man? Who are these people? Where is he?

He has had so many impressions over the last couple of days from a civilized, yet unknown world.

So many things are going through his head that he finds it hard to focus on one particular thing. He looks around at the other people around the campfire, one by one.

The well-dressed human who offered him grapes on the ship seems to have good intentions... When the man slipped off the trapdoor on the sea, Oscar instinctively reached out to him and pulled him back up. Oscar is not entirely sure why he did it...

He even gave Oscar a spear that he had found in the cave. Oscar looks at the spear next to him, grabs it, and examines it. It feels very balanced, yet unnatural. There is something about it that Oscar just cannot place.

The female elf seems very hurt, yet she looks strong and determined.

Oscar looks over to the gnome, who just wrapped his head, and notices that his eyes have changed colors. Something feels very odd, and it frightens Oscar.

He grabs the necklace that he found. There are numerous teeth. Oscar recognizes the shape of the teeth and quickly determines they are from big cats such as tigers or panthers. It definitely holds magical capabilities.

As Oscar's own necklace was taken away from him, he seems very content to have found a new one. With a smile, he puts it on.

Oscar reaches over to his pouch and opens it. He is relieved as he sees that the blanket is still intact and only slightly damp and dirty.

It's time to rest now, who knows what tomorrow will bring... For now Oscar is determined that staying with these people increase the chances of his survival..

As Oscar lies in his bed in the Grey Minstrel Inn, he takes a deep breath while looking out the window.

He sure is happy to finally be on solid ground and well... above ground again. Sleeping indoors with a roof above his head is still a strange thing, but the comfort of a bed is surely warm welcome.

He is slowly getting more used to the company, their rituals, their way of interacting and living around eachother.

It is a shame the spear that he was given by Quinton broke so quickly, it must have been of very poor quality if it breaks after a single attack...

The Necklace is now missing a tooth after Oscar used it to fight the creatures underground. He looks at his hands, which look normal to him. The Necklace seems very powerful to him.

Everything that happened underground still confuses him, the runes, the interaction with the Halfling, the environment... A big mystery to him.

Atleast, with the golden tooth that he found on the market stall Oscar was able to buy a new spear. He has seen plenty of people trading shiny objects for food, materials or weapons.

The man he traded the golden tooth with for a new Spear sure seemed happy with the deal!

Oscar had to wear a strange suit before having to stand still for such a long time and watch people pass by... So many people gathered to see a dead man... He does not understand why, but he was glad when it was over and he could put on his own 'clothes' again.

He is wondering what tomorrow will bring....

The Pack

As the days turn into weeks, Oscar’s world has expanded beyond the trees, though he still views these "civilized" companions through the lens of a pack animal.

After the adventure where Oscar and his companions killed the Ogre he has become obsessed with the bow and arrow. After their return to the city he was able to explain he wants to have a bow in addition to his spear.

In the hours the party was resting or when Oscar found a moment he practiced with the bow.

During the encounter with the Harpies Oscar had used his bow in combat for the first time. And to his delight it was even quite effective.

While fighting the harpies the runes on Oscar's Blanket started to glow faintly and gave Oscar additional properties.

He has grown to trust the tall ones in his circle. Quinton and Dauphine have shown him a kindness he didn't know existed in the world of stone and metal.

They do not growl or strike when he is confused; instead, they offer patience.

Dauphine, in particular, has found a way to bridge the silence between them.

She created marks on parchment—vivid drawings of food, water, danger, and shelter and many more.

When the words of the common tongue become a buzzing hive in his ears, Oscar can simply point to her sketches.

It is a strange magic, turning a flat surface into a voice, and it has made his life among them bearable.

Oscar also starts to understand the meaning of nodding or shaking his head as a yes and no, as well as some simple hand gestures.

Then there is the gnome, Darius. Oscar watches him with a wary curiosity.

At night, when the others sleep, Oscar’s sharp eyes have seen the gnome’s form shift and blur, his very appearance changing like a lizard blending into the bark.

It is a mystery that smells of old earth and hidden things, and it keeps Oscar’s hand close to his spear and bow.

Through all these strange transitions, Oscar finds his only true peace in Thola’s Blanket.

He keeps the coarse fabric tucked away, a sacred relic of his past.

He often runs his calloused fingers over the faded runes, feeling the rhythm of the embroidery even if he cannot read its meaning.

It smells of the deep forest—of damp moss and the ancient wolf, Elaren.

To anyone else, it is a ragged scrap of cloth; to Oscar, it is his only proof that he belongs to something, or someone, beyond the cage he was found in.

It is his anchor in a world that moves too fast.

His instincts were put to a different kind of test during a dark trek through the city's veins. While moving through a narrow, grime-stained alley with Darius and the woman named Jinnie, a sound sliced through the humid air—an agonizing, guttural cry of a woman in pain.

Oscar’s ears twitched, and his muscles coiled, ready to spring toward the source of the distress.

Every animal instinct screamed to investigate the predator or the prey.

However, he looked at Darius and Jinnie.

They did not break their stride; they carried a weight of purpose that did not include the shadows of that alley.

For a heartbeat, doubt gnawed at him—a flicker of the forest law that says one must heed the cries of the woods—but he saw the determination in his companions' eyes.

He was part of a pack now, and the pack was moving forward.

Oscar pushed the doubt into the dark corners of his mind and followed their lead, leaving the cry behind in the cold stone silence.

To Oscar, Jinnie’s death was not a "tragedy," but a sudden, violent transformation.

One moment, she was a source of heat and movement; the next, she was as still as a fallen log.

He watched the blue shadow creep across her skin, a color he recognized from the venomous things that crawl in the deep brush.

When they reached the clearing to burn the body, Oscar’s attention shifted to the gnome, Darius.

Using his Heart Sight, Oscar reached out, his hand brushing against Darius’s cloak.

The connection was a jolt. Through the blanket, Oscar didn't just see the gnome’s sorrow; He felt everything.....

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