Hagen grew up in a poor farming family in the middle of nowhere. Not a particularly devout person, he thought little of the world outside of his small home, like most young boys. In his 11th year, the small community he lived in was attacked by a small beastman herd. While not numerous, the herd was more than a match for the scattered and terrified farmers unused to such attacks living in a fairly peaceful area. Hagen survived by being hidden in the root cellar by his mother before the beastmen killed her. For two days he hid there alone and scared listening to the terrible sounds of Chaos outside. On that second day the sounds of violence erupted once more, but this time it was the beastmen who howled in pain and fear as a clear voice called out prayers to Mighty Sigmar. Soon silence came and that human voice, the first human voice the boy had heard for what felt like eternity, called out for survivors.
The short time that boy traveled with that priest of Sigmar made a great impression on him, even if at the time he was too young and distracted to notice. He would often look back to that time with great affection and be stunned at the amount of wisdom that priest gave to him in such a short time. He came to understand there was a greater world, a whole Empire full of people, who lived and worked and loved and fought together, with enemies of all kinds on all sides. And while people of Sigmar’s Empire are strong folk with mighty armies and great faith, able to weather any storm; everyone from time to time, can use a hand. That is where individual priests of Sigmar can help, traveling where they are needed, helping wherever they can, making the Empire a better place than before—sometimes with a strong back, sometimes with a prayer, sometimes with a kind word and sometimes with a hammer.
Years ago that wandering priest left young Hagen in a small temple of Sigmar, where he could find a home and be raised to be an initiate. While the temple was small, poor and out of the way, he took to his studies and work well, growing up strong in body and faith. While he always enjoyed learning what he could, he never had much talent for scholarship, so his literacy has been coming slow, even if he looks forward to reading more about the Cult.
He isn’t sure why the old priest in the small temple had him leave, he only said it was time for Hagen to go out into the world and begin his work there, that the old man had no more to teach him and rushed him out the door one day. Since then he has been wandering the Empire looking for ways to help people, until recently being talked into joining this Olde World League, under the impression he’ll be able to travel far and wide and help more people with access to the League’s resources.
He is a young, rough looking youth with a solid build, with dark eyes and sun touched skin. Aside from his few days old shaved head, he looks more like a peasant that mugged a Sigmarite than a proper priest himself. His clothes and armor are worn and dirty, his simple hammer is solid but old and battered, and his travelling bag a bit treadbare. Even his holy symbol is clearly a hand-me-down, if well cared for and often handled.
Ghost of Mondestille
Bridge at Garssen
Damn of Garssen