Niles Wedgwood (Historian)

Weight: 155

Apparent Age: 60

Archetype: Mercenary Adept: Circle: Unknown

Preferred Weapon: Katana

Runner Song:

 

 Bio: Well the time has come to talk about a good friend of mine known as the Historian, this man has served the cause for generations and has been the key in sorting through all the journals and documenting the flows of the war and documenting the history of this order. He is a well educated man, holding multiple degrees from prestigious universities and two doctorates. What this man has forgotten about history is more then most people even knew, so when it comes to this man being within the Sons of Liberty (Freedom Patriots) I am honoured to call him a brother.

         Nile like most of us lived a normal life prior to the Great Ghost Dance and the nights of blood, he was a college professor and husband, he was a father of three with his oldest attending college where Niles worked. He also worked as a curator for the Smithsonian in Washington D.C in witch he would commute from New York via train multiple times a week travelling between his classroom and his office. This kept Niles very busy but his love of history and his love for education knew no bounds. When the natives attack happened this man was on route back to New York and his train came to a grinding halt as many on board including the conductor fell to the natives magic. Lucky for the survivors on the train the conductor was able to pull the break as he was dying, though this also meant the train was stuck in the middle of nowhere and leaving these business men, educators, and commuters trapped with no supplies and no idea why so many suddenly fell dead. the panic that ensued was overwhelming and as Niles puts it, it felt like the earth stood still and the people where just falling off the edge and descending into madness.

         As a professor he was used to trying to reclaim control of a rowdy room of students, but this was more then he was even used to. The citizens all convinced they where going to die, the train was being hijacked or worse could not be reasoned with and even began attacking each other out of panic. Communications where down and the country was in a state of panic not seen since 9/11/01. Niles felt the only thing to do was leave the train and start walking towards the next town, this decision for a educated man might not have been the smartest, but in hindsight it was the best thing he ever did. Niles left the train, slinging his top coat over his shoulder, placing his hat on his head and holding his old brown leather briefcase and began walking down the tracks towards the next town. He knew it wasn’t all that far as he travelled this line many times a week, as Niles walked he could feel as if the energy in the air was off and that something was amiss. He got this sinking bad felling that he needed to start running, and thats what he did his feet burned as his hard soled oxfords slammed hard against the wooded rails of the tracks giving zero support. Though as he ran, and the train became a faint memory in the distance he was knocked off his feet and brought to his knees from the shock wave that followed from the explosion of the train.

        As he tried to catch his breath from having the air knocked out of his lungs from the explosion, he still on his knees he was greeted by the raining of rock, twisted metal, splintered wood and burned body parts and gore. He knew he needed to get clear of the tracks and find safety. He also knew he needed to contact his family to let them know he was alive, though Niles would never get to make that call since his family was already dead and he would never go home again. Niles rose to his feet and again took off running, whit each step being more painful then the first as he was suffering from a damaged ankle as well as pressure fractures that he didn’t realize till the adrenaline wore off and he slowed his pace. Though by this point Niles was in greater danger though he didn’t know it. Just beyond the ridge he was now limping towards hid a dark secret, a small camp of native soldiers lay in wait ready to ambush this poor tired old educator. Niles clothing dirty and torn, his face flush and sweat soaking his collar, he stopped his brisk run leaving the carnage behind him. he opened his briefcase pulling out a bottle of water. as he drank he removes his glasses to wipe away the sweat from his brow. Niles put his glasses back on in time to see a small band of native soldiers surrounding him, he felt a sharp blow to the back of his head and the next thing Niles says he remembers is being buried up to his neck in the ground, sugar water being poured over his head and face and the youngest of the native soldiers using his knife to slice a deep gash in Niles cheek.

        As if things couldn’t have gotten worse for poor Niles, he was somewhere deep in the wilds lost and alone. He was set up to be executed in the most brutal manner ever, and these soldiers never explained to him why they had condemned him in such a manner. Niles could feel the temperature dropping and the sun beginning it’s decent into the horizon as nightfall was approaching quickly. The natives sat and admired there handy work for a few moments as Niles kept wincing from the pain in his cheek. Then as nightfall crept in the soldiers and Niles was left alone to die, he was in a very dire situation the insects had already moved in for the sugar water and he could hear the sounds of carrion and predators in the darkness drawn to him by the scent of his blood. Niles knew that he had to seem big and scream loudly to scare off the predators, but when your just a head sticking out of the soil seeming big is imposable and for the beasts that lurked he was nothing more than a quick meal personally delivered on a silver platter.

        He said a silent prayer to the lord above and began to scream his lounges out, throughout the night. He was as well being eaten alive by the insects and he was starting to suffer from exposer. Niles was in a very bad situation and he was beginning to submit to his death, as his voice was barren, his through dry and hoarse, he was thirsty, cold and could feel the cold embraces of death calling for him. Niles struggled in his earthy prison trying to free himself, but his hands and feet had been bound and when he tried to move his legs he felt a sharp pain course through his body that caused him to howl out with extreme pain. Niles at this point just lowered his head and began to tear up as he thought about his wife, his children and his eldest daughters wedding that he would miss and never get to walk her down the aisle, he began to sob and damning the God above for condemning him like this. Niles was worn out and just submitting to death, as he didn’t see the coyotes making there way towards there free meal. Till he felt the teeth of one the canines tear into his ear and another into his lower jaw, Niles at this point was crying out in pain but nothing but air came out as his voice was blown and he had nothing left. Till he heard a loud crack followed by another then another as the coyotes stopped there feasting and took of into the night, though not without one of them tearing off his ear and another had bitten him in the side of the face taking his eye and leaving a nasty wound behind.

         Niles was saved by a wondering mercenary camp, that was making it’s way west to set up camp. He was quickly unburied and taken to an ambulance to receive emergency treatment, Niles once inside still thought he was going to die and just laid his head back and awaited his fate, lucky for my friend he was in good hands and had some of the best medics looking after him. During the trip west he was in and out of conscience, every time he would awake witch was not for long he would speak of the incident, he would talk about his family his job basically anything. He would also beg for answers as to what he had seen and why was he sentenced to such a barbaric execution. Niles would eventually receive the answers to his questions, and he would also learn the tragic news that his wife had been killed, he was spared the gory details of her rape and scalping. his children thrown into the Hudson river to drown and his eldest daughter was abducted to be sold as a trophy wife to some soldier of chieftain.

         Niles was explained the tragedy of the Ghost Dance, the ongoing Nights of Blood and the destruction of everything they as Americans held dear, he was told that he was attacked only because he was a white man and was a miracle he survived with being touched by the natives magic. This enraged Niles and he swore to seek justice for the sins that had been cast down on him and all the innocent Americans who were forced to suffer under their hands. This is when Niles but his special skill set to work as a historian, he began to document everything and he was able to read and decipher codex and languages to be though of as long dead. Not to mention the ancient hieroglyphics, this has given the Sons of Liberty (Freedom Patriots) a serious advantage in this war. The native bastards lost their ability to use their languages, and hieroglyphs against us and the rest of the country again.

         Niles like most of the early Patriots where given that strange pill from Colonial that seems to suppress the affects of ageing, and he has become a serious ally and friend of the cause, this man has taken up arms many a time and when Colonial can get his nose out of a book or tome, the Historian is right out there on the front lines like the rest of his brothers. He has been a valuable asset to the cause, with his ability to decipher the languages and codes, when a squad takes a enemy camp he can determine what’s valuable data and intelligence versus smut and trashy beach novels, though the Historian does like to mess with Colonial at times and hand him a native smut saying it’s valuable troop movements. Needless to say that never goes over well with the boss, Colonial is a man with zero sense of humour and can you blame him. Though out of everyone within the order the Historian is one of the few who can get away with ribbing the boss like that.

       The Historian knows he has half blood grandchildren out there that are being poisoned against him and the other Patriots who are fighting to restore order, he knows his daughter if still alive will be to brainwashed to ever accept him again. This has the Historian frustrated and as well slightly heart broken knowing that what’s left of his family has been turned against him and he will never get to feel the love of his children again or be able to hold or see his grandchildren and what makes matters worse for him is one day he might be forced to have to kill one of his own blood. This is the pain that keeps him focused and looking for a way to bring this war to an end sooner then latter, as in his mind enough innocent lives have been lost on bot sides through the years. Though if he finds the young soldiers who tried to kill him through a brutal execution method, all bets are off and he will make the Digger look like a choir boy with what he has planed. The Historian still has nightmares from that first night out in the wilds, and lets just say this man does not like coyotes all that much and can you blame him. When he first meet the legendary Coyote, it took Ringmaster, Colonial, Myself and Forge to keep the Historian from shooting poor Wilson full of holes and even today he is apprehensive around the Coyote.

        Well as of recent the Historian is still on his personal quest to locate the young men, who tried to execute him, he is still seeking his grandchildren and he is still working and digging through all the old tomes and books as well as the war journals compiling all the data and transcribing the new data as it comes in. Without the work of the Historian the Sons of Liberty (Freedom Patriots) would be forever lost, he is our eyes and ears within history, he is the man who is educating the masses of our ranks in their languages and movements and this man has proven time and time again to be a true master of historical warfare and battles. He has adapted the tactics of ye old to the modern battlefield and this has proven to be a irreplaceable asset to us. Historian my friend and comrade, I thank you for everything you have done for us and will continue to do for us in the many years to come.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                    Page Written By: Snoopy