Character Biographies.   Posted by Kismet.Group: 0
 GM, 5 posts
Tue 29 Sep 2015
at 16:18
Character Biographies

Hey guys

Go ahead and post your character biographies here.
Savtok Thunderbrow
 player, 2 posts
 Dwarf, Fighter, Smith
 AC 18, HP 14/14
Tue 29 Sep 2015
at 18:13
Character Biographies
Savtok Thunderbrow, of the stronghold deep under the Hammercrest mountains, stands broadset in uncharacteristically ornate chainmail. Where most chain jerkins lose rings around their edges, resulting in a haggard look, Savtok’s armour is meticulous, ending neatly in crimped dwarven brass. Every detail of his armour shows the same care that would usually be reserved for a platemail heirloom. As light glints from the rings and dwarven steel, it seems as though each ring and piece of plate has had dwarven runes beaten into it. This dwarf obviously spends most of his time tending to his own armour.

Savtok is an old dwarf, his dark blond hair streaked with grey. His people were some of the last to strictly follow the ancient traditions, and thus shunned magic entirely. Both their craft and their combat doctrines are focussed around the breaking of arcana. Countering spells through their runed armour and the old ways of countermagic, the Spellbreakers were once a mainstay of Dwarven holds, but recently are far more uncommon.

Despite the fact that most modern scholars consider the Spellbreaker’s techniques and runes to actually be arcane in nature, the Spellbreakers are adamant that the runes of the earth and their counter-magics are pure in the eyes of their ancestors, and are in no way related to modern magic.

Recently, Hammercrest has fallen. After a relatively minor tragedy, tensions came to a head. Younger dwarves were desperate to reclaim their clan’s wealth and might that had been dwindling as the mountain was tapped of it’s resources. Older dwarves, however, know that the deeper the delve, the greater the reward, and accused the younger of weakwilledness.

Thus, the hold scattered at the first sign of hardship. The Spellbreaker Smiths can sometimes be encountered wandering the world, identified by their brass-coloured dwarven steel, heavy with their sacred gems and mottled with hammered-in runes. Though odd and bull-headed, most can see the value in their expert craftmanship. Savtok is one of those Spellbreaker Smiths.

Despite his age, Savtok remains strong thanks both to his occupation, and the fact that he is particularly broad, even by dwarven standards. His height, too, is substantial for a dwarf, but is still short when compared to other races. His hammer arm can rival any younger’s, but age is taking it’s slow toll, with his eyesight beginning to falter, and his humours souring rapidly.

Being one of the few Spellbreaking Smiths who still openly pursue the craft, he holds great distrust for the arcane, but won’t outright condemn strangers for their use of it. He does bemoan fellow dwarves who rely heavily on the arcane, however.

After a a dozen years wandering, Savtok returned to Stronghold Hammercrest. Among the relatively fresh ruins, he found little- battle and looting had bled the stronghold dry. One thing remained, however- a lone Spellbreaking Runestone, but one Savtok had not come across in all his years.

He wishes to use the Runestone to press the rune's secrets into his own armour, if only he knew it's effect. Not only this, but his people's history and secrets are not preserved in stone- only the tongues of aging dwarves. He now travels to a new continent, hoping to find one of the few elder Spellbreakers rumoured to still be wandering this plane. Surely their council can reveal it's secrets?

His journey's first step is Solengrad, where he hopes that the Sunspears see value in his craft, gaining him his first foothold in the new continent, and perhaps a lead on an Elder Spellbreaker. Though he clings to hope, he knows that humans tend to distrust age, and the wisdom it denies younger races.

This message was last edited by the player at 06:02, Mon 05 Oct 2015.

Akylas Sunscribe
 player, 1 post
Mon 5 Oct 2015
at 00:59
Character Biographies
Throughout his youth, Akylas had always been a well-liked member of the Arknstad community. A remote settlement in the shadow of the great Talonspire Mountain. In part, this was due to his place alongside his adoptive father Belethor Suncribe, the castle scribe and chief historian. The warm disposition of the town towards Belethor was fuelled by his ability to enrapture young audiences with tales of adventure and magic…loosely based on historical records ofcourse. Under Belethor’s guidance, Akylas gained exposure to an immense amount of literature, fictional and factual alike. Few things however, captured his attention like the higher mysteries of the arcane.

The night Akylas came to be a member of Belethor’s family was marred in tragedy as much as mystery. Torrential downpours beset the small town as Belethor followed his usual path home. A late stay at the town library weighed heavily on his brow. Drawing nearer to the portcullis, he discerned a feint glow radiating from outside the town walls. Empty tankards strewn outside the guard hut betrayed their current disposition. Curious by nature, Belethor cranked open the iron gate and stepped outside. There, slumped up against the meagre fortifications of Arknstad, lay a woman clad in filthy rags and barely conscious. At her side lay an ornate wooden staff, superior in quality to anything made in the village.
Kneeling down to look at the woman, Belethor could not help but notice her ghostly beauty. Jet black raven hair clung to the gentle curves of her face in the moisture of the rain. Ice blue eyes drearily raised to lock with his. Her lips parted as if to speak, but shared only a blood-soaked retch. Belethor motioned in to assist, only to be met by a brightly glowing hand raised in protest. In doing so, revealing the secret at her breast. An infant child, miraculously asleep and kept warm by the fading glow of his mother’s magic touch. Her eyes fixed on Belethor, and brightened with profound relief for a brief moment. A smile graced her blood-stained lips, and her hands fell dark to the floor. Belethor knew what need be done.

Akylas grew and flourished in the village, his jet black hair mirrored that of his mother. His bright green eyes spoke of her too, but revealed an unknown heritage. He learned quickly under Belethor’s tutelage, and devoured all information in his path. Akylas’ innate desire for arcane knowledge first became apparent when Belethor noted the single grimoire in the library…misplaced on it’s allocated shelf. This was about the same time Lilian, the apple of Akylas’ eye, found a quasit demon lurking in her bed chamber.

Belethor found the tiny fiend living in his own home. Discovered, the quasit shrieked with an unnatural amount of fear in its voice and vanished. Instantaneously terminating his service to Akylas. Akylas’ adolescent years were characterised by successive battles with Belethor to cease abberant magic practice. After years of torture, on Akylas’ 18th birthday, Belethor relented. He spoke of an ancient temple of wizards in the nearby mountain peak, devout in their quest for arcane mastery. Akylas left immediately.

After weeks of climbing glacial cliffs and escaping near death, Akylas finally reached the summit. A great stone door, far bigger than any mortal could move, lurched open towards him. Peering inside, Akylas could make out the figure of a tall, rigid man, hooded and robed. Akylas started towards him and the great doors began closing behind him. For some reason that he couldn’t quite explain, Akylas couldn’t help but envision his father…practically feeling his warmth as he trod inside the citadel.

10 years later

A fierce storm ripped through the village of Arknstad, lightening raged and thunder shook the very foundations of the town. Howling wind tore apart houses and fires blazed, people fled in all directions seeking refuge…the town was lost.

The morning after the storm

An old withered man, robed in drab dark-tan, leaned heavily on his staff as he stepped into the cinders of the fallen town. He stood there, silent. Tears fell heavily at his feet, and still no sound. Akylas lifted his head westward and began walking towards the coast, a small shadow followed him.
Grund'lak Farseer
 player, 1 post
Mon 5 Oct 2015
at 15:18
Character Biographies
To Johanson Starlen, Captain of the Watch.

We have just received reports that Grund'lak Farseer is on the move. We have 7 reported sightings since the last moon... more than we've had in the last 15 years combined. They would seem to suggest his involvement with the Sunspears - we suspect he is looking to join their recruits. We can't say why, but this is nothing new... the man is an enigma.

Starlen, show extreme caution where he is concerned. You've earned your post as captain and you've seen your fair share of action, but the rules change where Grund is concerned.

As your investigation begins, you are going to hear some bizarre stories.
You are going to hear that he is around 90 years old... at least 10 years older than the oldest recorded half-orc.
You will unearth rumours of him obliterating his entire orc tribe on his 40th year day - the day an orc usually joins the eldership.
You will hear whispered tales of his ritual scars running up his arms - which he always keeps uncovered during battle, and ponderings of what the scars have left of his hands, because he has never been seen without gloves.

People will swear that he posseses tomahawks that slice straight through heavy armour, and he can strike a man twice with his warhammer in the space of a breath.
Others will tell you he's surrounded by arcane energies that grant him unnatural protection, and that his wounds knit together before his attackers' eyes.

Even more confusing are the rumours of his character.
There are reports of Grund defending a village against a gnoll attack, and then killing a quarter of the villagers.
He was spotted aiding a cult in assaulting a small town, where he tore through the ill-disciplined militia. Yet when the battle finished, he was nowhere to be seen, and the cult leader was found dead in his tent, his head smashed in.
He reportedly terminated a contract to train the Duke of Yorrin's son after only a day, but is said to have spent months training a small group of peasants out in the backwater marshes of the Seven Streams.
Treasure hunters have shared tales of meeting him on the road, where they spent some nights in his company, bewildered by his knowledge of historical artifacts, both magical and mundane.

Almost all would agree that Grund will allow a disadvantaged foe his footing in the middle of combat, but there are whisperings of him killing supposed allies in their sleep.

Johanson, as you will no doubt want to toss these stories aside in your quest for truth, take the advice of an old friend:

They are all true.

Remember the definites - He has no allies. He will not kill an orc, or fight for one. He is compelled to aquire magical items, and he serves an unknown divine being. Let these truthes guide you on your Journey.
Let your feet walk in the Way, let your mind dwell on the Principles, and may your eyes rest in the Light.

And Starlen... be careful.

Mik Tar, Inquisitor of the Radiant Eye.

This message was last edited by the player at 15:20, Mon 05 Oct 2015.