imperial

15
The result of an aristocratically arranged marriage between the fifth daughter of the second
son of the Murdoch Chieftain and the dim-witted heir to the Oakenfist Clan, Morten Oakenfist is a
blessed man indeed; he has gained the wisdom and shrewdness from his mother’s line and the
brute strength and martial prowess of the Oakenfists. He is additionally advantaged with a natural
understanding and control of the runic magicks. Oakenfists are normally stout and stocky
men and Morten initially appeared to be following that trend, but in recent years he has nearly
doubled in size, growing to over seven feet tall and four foot wide. This increase in bulk is not adipose
driven, this man is not fat. His body is ripped with muscle. His arms are rounder than most
men’s thighs. Morten puts his mammoth girth down to his magickal aptitude and strict training
regime, which in part is true. He is blessed but not in the way he believes. The real reason is far
more complex and mystical than he could ever imagine.
The young Oakenfist joined the Wolfbanes as soon as he was of age, and his leadership skills
were quickly noted as he ascended through the ranks. For a time, he dabbled in the ways of the
Pathfinders and even the Headhunters, but he found his calling when he joined the Warhounds.
He had been fighting alongside them in a small, but critical, campaign against Mishima on Mercury.
The Warhounds had been blasted to oblivion by sustained fire from an advancing trio of
Meka. The remaining Wolfbanes had no answer to the armoured walkers, and were being massacred
to the man. Morten charged them, his pack in close support. The lead Meka ki-blasted him
from his feet and his blade and firearm melted to slag in his hands. As he picked himself up, he
grabbed for the nearest weapon he could find. The mud-caked warhammer his burned hand
closed around sparkled with magickal discharge as if it too had found its destiny. Morten smiled
and roared anew, before re-charging the walkers. The first Meka was ripped from its legs with the
initial hammer blow, the second crumpled as Morten obliterated the driver compartment with
a backward swing. The leader of the Meka unit was out of his reach, and as the Wolfbane roared
in frustration, a magickal blast shot from the hammers head, detonating the machines engines.
He finished off the ki-user with a mighty downward swing as he closed in on it. All the Meka lay
wrecked around him, and he turned his attention to the remaining Mishimans. As he rushed towards
them, they turned tail and fled! Since that day, Oakenfist has been a Warhound, and inseparable
from his adopted warhammer, now called ‘The Tribane of Fukido’. It wasn’t long before he
was leading his own Warhound pack, and then the Warhounds in their entirety.
The First of the Warhounds, Morten Oakenfist is now the undisputed leader of the Wolfbanes.
A softly spoken bear of a man, that roars in battle. To see him in mêlée is to gaze upon a perfectly
honed fighting machine in its element. Each swing of his mighty warhammer is counterbalanced
by his fur-laden bulk. Everyone that stands in its way is pounded to splinters of what they once
were. His commands from the front, leading by example and all in his command follow without
question. For he is the Great Wolf, the mightiest of the Warhounds, strongest of his kind, leader of
the Wolfbanes, second only to the Serenity. He is High Chieftain Morten Oakenfist.