Post/Author/DateTime	Post
Faragon 08-27-05, 07:14 AM	I'd like some feedback on this character's background. It's not done yet (I think I'm about halfway :P) but I want to see if I got the feel of it right. Tell me what you think of it. Ignore the parts like [Date], [Location] and [Name] Those are blanks I need the DM's info for to make it fit within the setting. Account of the birth of Duerbir on TY [date], excerpt of the private diaries of Skurd Deepgem, Guild Wizard of the Ancient Lore and Arcana Section: ”On the way back from our voyage to [location] where we witnessed the initiation of a group of promising young candidates, the captain of our ship received a message of a local dwarven ’king’. His claims of our land as his own aside, this message clearly stated that the dwarves had uncovered a tomb of sorts, during their digging for gems and rich veins of metal. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited about the news and pressed the others into going. After all, it would only be a small detour and we could inspect the area immediately and seal it off. To this day, I wish the saying ’curiosity killed the cat’ was false. To this day, I wish I wasn’t so damned convincing at the time.” ”We were met by three of the ’king’’s progeny at the docks of Capehold, a volcanic island large enough to sustain one small city. Some kingdom, I thought at the time. The oldest, judging by the length of his beard, was clearly in charge. I cannot estimate to his age, could very well be he had a fair score of years on me. Prince Belten Tenrim, he was called. He looked like everything one could hope in a firstborn. Tall, charismatic and broad of shoulders. Apparently responsibility was given to him, whereas his peers either simply tagged along or were sent along for whatever reason escapes me at this time. I recall the young girl, Princess Imgret Tenrim, staring at us dumbly, as if she’d never seen a gnome before. Long brown curls of hair framed her face and while she wore the gown worthy of a princess, she hid timidly behind her youngest brother, Prince Morigard Tenrim. He was a head shorter than his brother Belten, and not nearly as broad of shoulders. Whereas Belten had a commanding presence, Morigard seemed to lack this. He gave us a scrutinizing look and then shrugged. A funny note, probably not appropriate for a record such as this, but I thought the lad’s beard could’ve used some more grooming. After all, wasn’t he supposed to be a prince? But I digress…” “We were swiftly escorted through the mines, which had been temporarily emptied of workers, a quite remarkable and unusual happening with dwarves I’ve heard, and were led towards the entrance of the tomb. It was there that I should’ve realized what I know now. We should not have tried to sate our curiosity now that it had spiked, but should’ve called in reinforcements and support. I mean, really… How much more obvious than abyssal inscriptions on the walls can it get? Dust of centuries covered the floor like a thin layer of snow, whisping up as our footsteps disturbed it.” ”Prince Belten led our way. When we came to the end of the first hall, into a wide circular room with pillars all around, there was a pedestal in the center of the chamber. On it, was a slowly pulsating gemstone. Without hesitation, he strode forward and picked it up. As he turned and raised the stone above his head with both hands, I realized our impending doom. His suddenly ragged breath was synchronous with the rhythmic pulsating of the gemstone. Time seemed to slow, and as I saw my fellows start pulling strands of magic out of thin air to deal with the proverbial situation, I knew it would be to late. He threw it down onto the floor, the gemstone smashing upon impact.” ”I have heard colleagues speak of horrors unseen, describing scaled daemons with claws sharper than the most finely honed blade, giant batlike wings and an aura so potent you can almost taste the creature’s desire to dominate, annihilate everything within sight. But nothing would’ve prepared me for those eyes. Those horrible, angry eyes. Smouldering with fire, easily showing its desire for agonizing us. Unlimited. To this very day, I wake up regularly bathing in sweat, when I dream again of those eyes.” ”I will not pretend I stood heroically before the fiend. I am a scholar. As I crawled for cover behind a pillar, I saw two of our company grabbed and with little effort, the very life squeezed out of them. Someone got a spell off, while another merely fizzled off the … thing’s hide. It didn’t take it long to incapacitate all of those who dared stand against it. Those who’ve been in battle before can picture easily what the carnage must’ve been like. Then, as it turned to those still breathing, me and Miss Imgret, it happened.” ”From behind a pillar on the other side of the wall emerged her youngest brother. The boy Morigard drew the ornate little handaxe from his belt and tossed it at the horned head. With a casual tail slap, the axe was sent flying, clanging uselessly against a nearby pillar. The daemon looked from the newly emerged dwarf to me and the girl crawled up against the wall. Mouth curled up in a sadistic smile, it seemed to understand the lad’s reason for emerging. Morigard’s instinct for protecting his kin had kicked in and he would go through fire and dust to see his peer saved. Maybe he was hoping to buy me time to get the stunned girl out of there, but frankly, I couldn’t think of anything short but ’oh **** oh **** Garl please get me out of this oh **** oh ****’.” ”When it took a step towards us, looking back to see the despair and hopelessness in Morigard’s eyes, I bolted. I tried to make for the exit, to save my hide. I’ve been told by colleagues that it was good that I tried to get a reliable word out, in order to bring reinforcements, but the truth is I didn’t want to die. I have also been told that acknowledging your fears is a form of bravery as well, so I will have to take comfort in that.” ”Sadly, as I bolted, I immediately drew the attention of the fiend. Annoyed, it clawed my legs from underneath me. Literally.” ”I lay there, cradling the stumps that just moments before were part of my legs, I saw Morigard striding forward to the limp form of [wizard name], who had been in charge of the initiation procedure. He pulled the man’s sword out of its sheath and braced himself, his jaw set with determination. The boy’s courage was sustained by nothing but sheer willpower. At that time, the agony of pain blinded me from realizing what was happening clearly, but I saw the young dwarf leap forward to the large monstrosity and as gravity pulled him back to the ground, he planted his newly found weapon a few inches into fiendish flesh. He wielded the blade in a downward two-handed position, his left arm used to lend his sword arm strength.” ”To be honest, it was but a flesh wound, something that would never have scared a beast of such power… had it not been for Morigard’s choice of weapon. He had drawn Lenvan, the sword of bonding, an experimental artefact recently used by the Magery Overguild to ensure the loyalty of those who give their service to us. In a small ceremony, where the initiate is tapped on the shoulder with the blade lightly, a compulsory effect is instilled in the initiate, subtilely discouraging him from acting against the Order when needed.” ”Of course, I did not know this at that time. I could’ve told, if I’d seen the ruby gemstone set in the pommel, but to be honestly I was seeing quite enough of my own red at the time. The only thing that got through to me, was an overwhelming roar of pain. No, not pain. Frustration. Fear. The fiend slapped the sword out of its thigh, sending Morigard tumbling across the room. With a hiss, it turned and made its way further down into the tomb. ”I must’ve passed out at that moment, because I remember waking up to the screams of agony of a tortured soul. The girl was gone, but on the ground by the pillar, was the foolish, the brave, the incredibly foolish dwarf boy, trashing about madly. He beat his hands bloody on the solid stone surface, even slamming his head into it carelessly. An attempt to … I don’t know. I can’t fathom what happened inside his skull at that time. A battle of wills, no doubt. What happened to his body at that time, I dare not imagine. There was now a fiendish presence in the boy, to which his body had begun to adapt. The sword had reacted in a completely unforeseen manner to Morigard’s completely unforeseen use of it. Whereas it would normally bond the person touched to the toucher, the effect was far greater, in proportion to the touching itself. A portion of the fiend had been bonded to the dwarf. Only a portion, I say, because I am certain that the full dominating presence of it in the dwarf’s mind would’ve resulted in someone completely different than the person I later came to know as Duerbir.” ”It was then that Duerbir was born, product of ignorant yet brave meddling in the affairs of careless wizards. What was left of Morigard that day, was nothing but a shell of his former self.” Physical examination of Morigard Tenrim, dated TY [date]. “Morigard Tenrim, dwarven male, age 36.” ”Patient is 4’5 ft tall, weighing 140 lb. With the exception of bruises and gashes on his knuckles and forehead, the patient doesn’t seem to have suffered any external injuries. The broken left thighbone has been set and sofar the foreseeable complications are based on the fact that the fracture was a compression fracture. It should heal normally, but there’s a good chance the patient will walk with a limp.” ”What’s remarkable, is the red scaling of skin on his right arm all the way up to the shoulder, neck and right side ear. The right side of his torso is scaled as well, spreading from shoulder down towards his waist, growing less obvious as it goes further away from the arm. These areas patched with scale are remarkably warmer than the dwarven flesh. The fingernails of his scaled hand are remarkably strong, their coloration black as pitch. They thwart every attempt at being cut, which makes taking a sample rather difficult.” ”There is a coloration of the right eye, its cornea looking a feverish yellow and the iris filled with bright sparks of red and orange. Were the patient to move his eyes, this would most certainly make it seem like there was a spark of fire within his eyeball. Unlike popular rumour amongst my colleagues, there is no prehensile tail, no forked tongue. The patient does indeed cast a shadow and still shows a reflection in the mirror. This added to clear up any confusion. There is however the vaguest smell of brimstone, particularly near the scaled limb.” ”Patient seems in good health otherwise, if a little exhausted from the sudden changes in his physique. It is true what’s said of the dwarven ability to withstand physical punishment and I fear that that and the strength of mind to endure pain, have been the only things that saved mr Morigard. I prescribe two weeks of rest and would advise the council to have mr.Morigard placed under the supervision of a psychologist for the moment.” Faer Underburrow, Overguild Physician. TY [Date], [location] Psychological profiling of Morigard Tenrim, dated TY [date]. ”Mr.Morigard Tenrim seems agitated when escorted to my office. It can safely be assumed that the young dwarf is shaken, probably not solely due to being in unfamiliar surroundings. Having read the brief report of what happened only two weeks ago, this is not surprising.” ”Examination has shown Morigard to be a very intelligent young man, the principles of dwarven ethics guiding his way through life. However, the bonding has changed him. He has moments where he is not himself. Those are the times he struggles anew, I believe. At these times, he is … unpredictable. At these times, he is bothered less with the wellbeing of those around him and shows little regard for socialites.” ”I have run him through a series of mental exercises, to help him find clarity within himself. He described his first two weeks here as a constant battle of wills, a battle for control. He is on top at the moment, his demonic part slumbering. I have decided to advise the Overguild to supervise him, to see how his mental condition progresses. If we are convinced of his stability of mind, he will be free to do as he pleases. Until then, it is my professional opinion that he should be trained and supervised by the Order. The mental exercises of the Overguild Academy should help him greatly in maintaining his domination over the fiendish presence.” Uran Blacksheen, Overguild Psychiatre. TY [Date], [location] Current day. Morigard is dead. What the demon didn’t finish then, I have done myself over the course of years. A prince of Capehold, hah. Some prince I’d be now, limping my way to the throne. No, that is all behind me. Prince Morigard is gone, there is only Duerbir. But I get ahead of myself. Let me start where the scrolls end. * * * For seven years, I was kept under the supervision of the Magery Overguild. I must say, that time was rather confusing. Some treated me like a hero, others like a prisoner. Once they found out my experience with assisting my father as he worked magic into swords and armors, it didn’t take them long to begin burying me with books on matters arcane. ”Good to keep your mind focussed”, they said. I suppose that was true. I’m not sure wether it was their intent to school me as a wizard, but I suppose they succeeded. When I reached adulthood, I decided I had stayed there long enough. As I packed my bags, one of the flimsy apprentices chided me. “You have not been given leave. The master will know of this.” So he did. As I stepped unto the boat with which I had arranged passage to Capehold, a stern voice bellowed ”Stand where you are, Morigard Tenrim!”. Annoyed, I turned to face Aldym Damarthe. He was the human wizard assigned to my teaching. My warden, my jailer. Not a bad fellow, but so damned dutiful. ”Morigard, you know very well you cannot leave. Come with me.” I sneered back at him ”None of you can hold me, none can control me!” more angrily than I had wanted to. Embaressed by my own words, I stammered “Today is my birthday. I am considered an adult amongst my people from this day forth. I make my own decisions.” Aldym considered this for a moment, then said “Very well. You say you are a man grown. Can you bear the responsibilities of one? Can you guarantee me that you …” He fell silent for a second then pleaded: “Come Morigard, let us discuss this elsewhere.” I felt a satisfactory grin forming as I said ”Certainly, step aboard” mockingly. Aldym looked at me, one eyebrow raised, then grinned himself and said as he walked up the plank ”Certainly. A most excellent idea.” I felt my grin fade and a scowl grow. The bastard knew I didn’t intend for him to come along. As he dumped a bag of gold in the hands of the first mate, I knew I wouldn’t get rid of him easily. Annoyed, I stalked off to the ship’s figurehead, awaiting our departure there. He must’ve walked up to me softly, for I was surprised when he said ”You know… that little quip just now is enough proof that you still do not fully control yourself.” As I ignored him, he continued ”You know why I must do this, Morigard. You know what it is I fear.” I nodded in yielding agreement. I couldn’t help but acknowledge the fact that my control of myself was still slippery, despite all these years. Despite all my efforts, our efforts, I could still feel the darker half of me slipping through occasionally. ”You know I’m going home Aldym. I’m certain my father will welcome you, even if you took his only remaining son away from him for a multitude of years.” I said, trying to change the subject. Aldym snorted and said ”Multitude? Ha! What’s seven years on a dwarf’s life?” Again, I was reluctant but had to agree with him. I was certain my father missed me, but 7 years was not as bad as I had made it sound. Still… Losing two sons on one day must’ve been a hard blow to the man. They never did find my brother. His bootprints were found leading further into the temple, but the Magery Overguild had done a quick survey of the temple and ordered it closed. According to them, there was nothing left there to disturb us. And most likely, nothing further of interest to them. But they found no trace of my brother Belten either. I shrugged to Aldym’s remark and shifted the eyepatch that covered my right eye. Another one of Aldym’s bright ideas. Apparently, people found my flaming eye to be quite unsettling. He’s right, of course, but damned if I’ll let him know that. We sailed from [location] to my old home, the island of Capehold. Unofficial kingdom within the Archipelageo of Ilyapato. * * * Home was not as I had left it. The docks had been expanded, the city itself as well. Obviously, my father was doing quite well for himself. For a moment, I felt hurt that he had never come to visit me. It didn’t linger, as I realized his perdicament. Belten was gone, as was I. Mother died giving birth to Imgret, and she was too young to rule in his stead. He couldn’t have left. Still, a card would’ve been nice. Homecoming went smoothly. No parading through town, no long boring speeches and no toasts to my glory. Just a hooded cloak disguising my features and entrance through a side-door. Quite honestly, I was beginning to appreciate Aldym’s suggestions more and more. Not that he needs to know, but still. Simply dropping in and saying “Hey dad, I’m home” seemed a bit rude, so Aldym went ahead while I waited in the lobby like a simple servant. Funny how the old habits of a lordling return as soon as he sets foot back on his land. My father and Imgret were overjoyed to see me, naturally, and forced me to tell me everything that happened in the past few years. After a long night of catching up, I excused myself and once I had finally pried myself loose from the clutching arms of my father and sister, went to where my room was. Three large chambers, cut out of the rocks of the mountain base, with a window opening in the mountain side to let the light in. Everything had been left in proper order, as it should. I wonder if my brother’s room was left in a similar condition. “Oh Morigard, you sentimental fool” I froze instantly. Where’d that come from? The answer to that question didn’t elude me for long. A dwarf, several inches taller than me flung himself from the window into my room. ”I didn’t believe him at first. But he could tell you came back. He sensed you. You’ve got something we need.” he said as he drew a wicked looking short sword from his belt. I took a step backwards, wondering who it was that recognized me. Hell, who it was that dared speak to me in such a fashion, and in my own chambers! Surely dad didn’t listen to those idiot reformists who preached equality for all? For a moment I blinked. I had been one of those idiot reformi… The thought was quickly replaced with the jolting pain of a stabwound. Had I lost my wits? I took another step backwards and burst into spellcasting. ”Give it up, you’re outnumbered” I quipped, as I saw several copies of me step forward. As he sliced into one of the copies, I shot magic missiles forward from my fingertips. As the pinkish bolts slammed into his body, the dwarf cursed and said ”So, you’re no longer the pushover you used to be… little brother.” The shock took me a second to recover from. Belten! ”Snaga-Thrak’uk wants you. And he will have you!” He lurched at another figment. Now that was interesting. I thought I was the only one to know that name. After all, when you’ve spent 7 years with someone in your skull, the least you can do is ask him for his. I decided to toy with my traitor brother a bit, and greased his sword. As it slipped from his fingers, I couldn’t help but laugh. The fool. How dared he. How dared he try this with me, WITH ME! Angrily, I clasped my hands together and brought them back to my side. I felt the flame ignite in my hands and let it grow for a few seconds before I shot it at Belten. Such a shame, 7 years of keeping my chambers in proper order and I’m wracking it up again the first night I get back. The ball of fire roared as it expanded right in front of Belten’s chest, sending bursts of flame flying out of the window and knocking him to the floor. I merely seared the cloak that hung about me, but the items from my childhood went up in flames immediately. Belten’s eyes flared brightly, a deep crimson, and he made for the window, leaving a smoketrail of his burning clothes behind. Of course, this would not do. I picked up his sword and followed him out. Well, I’d call it running after him, but a more appropriate term would be ‘hobbling’. Damned limp. Of course, the haste spell I cast on myself made me hobble faster than my brother could ever have managed on his two healthy legs. So I ran on, and it was not long before I overtook him, running as though he were persued by the devil. Which he was. * * * When I limped back home, I was met by Aldym and my father. One holding his staff menacingly, the other wielding his favoured battle-axe. As I approached them, my father said ”Son, no. Don’t make me do this.” Confused and angry, I sneered ”What is it with my family trying to kill me today? If you don’t want me here, I’m gone!” Obviously, such was not my father’s intent. Alarmed by the blast of fire, Aldym feared I had lost control and alerted my father. I apologized and assured them I was fine. Somewhat annoyed of course, people should have a little more faith in my abilities. Bah. Inside, I told Aldym what happened. ”And your brother?” he inquired”What happened after you caught up with him?” I told him about my inquiries after his allegiance and the demon, but well… he was pretty busy dying at the time. That limited our conversation considerably. What Belten did tell me, unsettled Aldym greatly. To be honest, I wasn’t wholly comfortable with it either. “He will have what you took. When he does, the lands shall tremble.” * * *
Faragon 08-28-05, 12:37 PM	:bump: Anyone?
Fithero 08-29-05, 03:21 AM	Hmmm... its a pretty cool story, is it one of your characters, the prelude to a game your going to run, or just a story that you are writing?
Faragon 08-29-05, 12:29 PM	Character background, part 1 of ... 4 sofar (and not done still :P) for a new character. (Old character died :( Stupid pit traps) What do you think of the character's attitude? How does it strike you? (I wanna see if I've let the way I picture him come to rights)
Fithero 08-29-05, 06:13 PM	Well i think that he would actually change (personality wise) if he had a demon (or whatever) inside of him, instead of one gaining control for a while. Im not sure of what he was like before the change, but he would be very different (even when he was in control) after the change. But what does the guy want? To learn to use his demonic side, to get rid of it, or has the increase in power made him want more? Later
Faragon 08-30-05, 01:58 AM	Good points. You're right, I've not adressed these in the background yet. To answer your questions: (and write them out for myself so I've got it down on paper when I can get back to writing it fully. :D) - He did change, dramatically. Morigard was more of a LG type character, as you can see for example with the "I was one of those idiot reformists" (That's one example where his change shows) whereas Duerbir is more of a TN type character. (I figured LG + CE = TN :D) - Duerbir is in control, usually. I have yet to design a mechanism for it, but I'm going to have him roll sanity checks (Willsaves with a DC set by the GM, probably) to see if he stay's in control or is influenced more and more by the demon. - What he wants... is a good question :) Mainly, he wants to be able to do his own thing. He wants to get rid of the Overguild's supervision (which'll happen in the rest of the background) and from there on it is mainly staying out of the demon's clutches. I will have him find a hobby (piracy comes to mind, haha) and go for that. Of course, then the DM will come and kick his life over with the intro into the campaign, haha. There's a part of him that's still like Morigard. For example, I have planned for him to take the family heirloom, an old mithril shirt, but it's not clear to himself why he's taking it (none of the rest of the family are there to lay a claim to it) sorta like "I don't consider myself Morigard anymore, so why'd I take the shirt? I don't care about family. *sigh* I dunno. It seemed proper though. Or maybe an old desire? I remember wanting it when I was young. After all, aside from all the prestige associated with it... it's shiny. I had decided to indulge myself, that's all." His plan is find a way to settle his old an new self. A possibility for this, is to go and look for a demonologist, someone who can help him get rid of the symbiont maybe? Heh, quick dabbling with writing at 8AM with no time. I'll be back later and write stuff out properly :D (And update the previously posted part, I've decided to rewrite some parts and add others :))
Fithero 08-30-05, 03:24 AM	very interesting stuff, this character has alot of.....character....1 question though, what level will he start at? A quick thought aswell, perhaps there are 3 differant personalities inside of him. His origional : the LG dwarf The demon: CE whatever The hybrid of the two: TN half demon That could make for an interesting character, instead 2 guys fighting for one body, there are 3...i dunno, just a thought. Later
Faragon 08-30-05, 05:15 AM	He wll start at level 8. I like the 3 personality idea. Hadn't thought of that. I am definetely going to use that :) In fact, since I'm seeing the DM within 2 hours time, I'm going to inform him about it. I love the idea :D thanks a lot!