Description
A fairly short, very thick man is before you. He looks to stand just shy of
four feet high. His skin looks to be fairly greasy and a dark brown in color.
His hair appears to have been white at one point or another, but it seems to
have been stained by mud and various fluids of war. His eyes are squinted
tightly making it difficult to see what color they are, and even what he
looks at. A very peculiar thing jumps out at you, and that is his nose. Far
from what you would expect from a dwarf, a long hairy pig snout erupts from
the center of his face. There is a strange lack of beard on this dwarf. Where
the pride of his people should be swaying, there is instead bright pink scar
tissue. Almost sensing the location of your eyes he shifts and puffs out his
thick chest. Across the heart is a long scar.
Another quick look over him reveals:
Role
Here Piggy
Added Thu Jun 28 11:32:48 2007 at level 2:
The High Tower of Sorcery is a school for magi. Within it's walls they each
learn how to gain mastery over their specific study of the arcane. From the
shapeshifters learning at first to change their eyes and ears, eventually
they learn to alter their entire being. The invokers who first learn to coat
their hands in elemental force soon learn to collapse mountains and twist
seas. Conjurers learn how to tap into the unseen, the extraplanar forces to
beckon them forth for aid. The necromancers, masters of death, learn how to
manipulate the living bodies function, and then that of the deceased.
Those who study the arts of transmutation are the real focus of this tale.
They are the ones who study the alterations of the living body. From
increasing the metabolism and watching a captive waste away, to liquifying
the innards of test subject, they are by far the most bizarre experiments and
lessons. The rest of the victims of the study are of little importance, we
focus our attentions onto but one.
Armonk Ironbeard was traveling with his merchant father from his home in
Akan. They were making an excursion to the storm giants home of Loch
Terridan. Along the path, they took a wrong turn and ended up with the Shadow
Grove. Armonk's father bested many a wraith as they wandered blindly through
the shrouded wood. For what seemed like days they wandered hopelessly. Then
they stumbled upon it, the magi tower.
As they approached the gates in an attempt to find salvation, the death
knights who bared the door began to utter incantations. A bolt of lightning
shot forth from the giant's hands, striking Armonk's father in the face. He
crumpled to the ground, smoke rising in thick plumes from what was left of
his blood red beard. Fear then gripped the young Armonk as he believed
himself to fall victim next. He attempted to run, but his body would not
move. Fear held in fixed in place. The duergar began to swing his flail in
short circles over his head, and lashed out wildly with it. Catching young
Ironbeard square in the temple, he crumpled to the ground.
The rancid smell of burning hair and flesh came to the nose of Armonk. His
eyes opened slowly, then closed again. As the smell lingered, he snapped open
his eyes and leapt to his feet. Or so he thought. His body lurched but moved
nowhere. Armonk's eyes shot around the room and he saw many a unfamiliar
face, and that is when the situation truly set in. The smell was coming from
his face. He wailed in pain, and thrashed in agony. "See how the flesh
becomes red at first then blackens? Shortly after it will peel and crack. The
beard is gone, as you can see. The hair is of little concern. The skin
beneath is where we focus our attentions." The voice came from a tall drow
standing directly over Ironbeard. The drow reached both hands down and placed
them on Armonk's face. With a few words the pain subsided, but only for a
moment. The once charred skin ripped and stretched, eventually coming
together and sealing itself shut. "That is how the flesh can be manipulated
to seal wounds class. It is not perfect by any means, but now this young
dwarf will not die before our lesson finishes. The magical skin however, will
never regrow the beard that is the pride of his people." The class snickers
and laughs at what apparently is a sick j
The Simple Words and a New Focus
Added Sat Jul 14 23:36:50 2007 at level 30:
The first time the blood of a magus spilled before Armonk, it did little to
The first time the blood of a magus spilled before Armonk, it did little to
quench his thirst. The second, it only fueld his rage more. The third was
rather bittersweet. With each new slaying there was no new life in Ironbeard.
Maybe his quest of vengeance would be lost to his empty shell of a body.
Maybe he had not truly understand what it was he battled for. He sought to
find an answer for his war, not one for himself, but one for others. Armonk
knew that he warred against the mage because of the hate he held for them,
yet it did not seem to be enough. That is until he joined with an inspiring
man named Jichii.
The bard did something that not even Armonk could do for himself, he brought
clarity to the war. Ironbeard had been searching for an explanation, a
reason. The bard focused the confusion into a rather simple answer. Hate is
an emotion. There is no why for it, it just is. The simplicity of the bard's
words astounded Armonk. It was so simple, yet so true. Taking the words of
the wordsmith to heart, Ironbeard set forth with a new lust for combat, a
focus unknown to him before.