The Hood: A Rural Vigilante Character Concept

"Are you sure it's a good idea going this way?" Bertrand hissed, nervously stroking his index finger along the side of his crossbow.

"Look, I told you, I know a shortcut through the Mist," Artrand said, giving the reins a flick as the team kept going down the trail that was barely wide enough for the cart they were pulling. "And we ain't gonna get there any faster just because you're rubbing that thing like a worry stone."

They trundled along in silence, the crates under the cart's flap barely stirring. They were filled with silver taken from the reeve, and the treasurer was waiting for them at the other end of the road. They had to be quick, and quiet, though... otherwise neither they or the money would reach their destination. Artrand pulled rein beneath an oak, putting on the brake.

"What are you doing?" Bertrand hissed.

"I'm going to take a piss," Artrand said, gripping his crotch. "And I'd prefer not to be stared at while I do it. Makes it impossible for me to go."

"Well be fast, dammit!" Bertrand said, his voice ratcheting up an octave or two in a way he didn't like, but couldn't stop.

Artrand waved a hand, got down off the seat, and stepped behind a tree. Bertrand swiveled his head like an owl, trying to see everywhere at once. A bird trilled in the underbrush somewhere, and a moment later another answered. Bertrand felt an itch under his hat, and he desperately wanted to scratch it, but it was like his hands were glued to his crossbow.

"Artrand, what's-?" the deputy said, turning toward the tree. Something streaked toward him, and he let out a cry as an arrow thunked into the side of his crossbow, splitting the string and yanking it forcefully from his hands. He'd barely had time to register what had happened before he saw a figure in a green cloak, a longbow drawn back and an arrow nocked.

"Oh shit..." Bertrand said, putting his hands up.

He didn't want to die for some silver... but if the Hood let him go, there was no way he was going back to the reeve and admitting what happened. Bertrand wondered if Sommersdale would be far enough, or if he'd have to go even further to escape the responsibility for this.

Urban Legends in Rural Provinces

When we think of fantasy vigilantes we tend to think of shadowy figures among the spires of the great cities, or silhouettes glimpsed down the dark alleys of low town. Their names are whispered in taverns, and their legends spread from one district to another as their deeds become greater, and impossible to ignore.

A vigilante's deeds are not confined to cities, though... in fact, there are quite a number of them that operate beyond the scrutiny of any guard. They can be found haunting the hills and dales, vanishing into foreboding forests, and existing like ghosts that most only ever catch a glimpse of.

But what do these vigilantes do? Well, the answers vary as much as they do themselves. Ole' Deadeye is said to lurk around the Ferman Gulch, watching over travelers and leaving bandits and slave catchers for the buzzards, the kills signed by his signature, black-fletched crossbow bolts. Greensleeves is rarely seen, but her arrows have found the agents of the corrupt mayor's guards, soldiers, and deputies who've traveled into the murky woods she claims, and it's said the coin they carry is handed back to the people who need it most. Even the Skull Knight has a reputation down in black bog country... though what the strange figure with the glowing eyes wants is really anyone's guess depending on which of the stories you hear.

Inspired by figures like Robin Hood, or even William Tell, rural vigilantes tend to rely far more on woodcraft and survival. This makes social talents like Songbird or Beast Speech far more thematically appropriate, and it can lead to interesting examples of the Safe House talent, like an old forest lookout hidden by old growth trees, or even a crumbling, underground sanctuary that once belonged to a group of church knights that have long since disbanded.

The key thing to keep in mind with the rural vigilante (perhaps even more so than the urban ones) is to ask what their cause is, how their legend came to be, and of course, to understand who is behind the mask. Because Ole' Deadeye might be the son of the last sheriff, who was killed by bandits. Greensleeves might be the mayor's daughter who calmly bides her time in her father's home before sneaking out to take direct action to foil his plans come nightfall. And the Skull Knight? Well, he might very well be the old man at the tavern with a finger missing on his left hand who knows every nook and cranny of those dark waters, and is a lot stronger than he looks at first glance.

For more thoughts on playing vigilantes in Pathfinder, make sure you check out:

- 5 Tips For Playing Better Vigilantes

- The Legacy Vigilante (A Pathfinder Character Concept)

And if you enjoy a few short stories here and there, this introduction to the Hell's Rebels adventure path might also be of-interest:

- The Silver Raven Chronicles, Part One: Devil's Night

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That's all for this week's Unusual Character Concepts post!

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