Description
A massive, hulking brute of a fire giant, this specimen towers over even most
others of his race. With a body covered in corded muscles so thick they
appear almost comical, it is obvious this giant is no stranger to heavy
lifting. Charcoal black skin that is covered in short, fiery orange hair
gives him an appearance akin to a burning torch. A large head with an
elongated forehead, covered by thick, matted dreadlocks of the same fiery
orange hue give this giant a wild, uncontrollable look. Twin eyes of lifeless
black are split by his mashed and flattened nose and a mouth of brownish,
sharpened teeth that appear to have torn asunder their share of flesh. Clad
in battered and dented armors of a blackened and spiked ilk, this giant
appears to be seeking the blood of his enemies, whomever they may be.
Role
Background
Added Thu Jul 27 13:14:11 2006 at level 1:
The night air invigorated him. Breathing deeply of the warm, summer air, he
reveled in the sulphuric stench that filled his nostrils when he was near the
mighty volcano Kiadanah-Rah. Still in the prime of his youth, Narguth looked
down upon the rocky crag he was squatting on. Beneath him, he could hear his
father barking orders to this years crop of warrior students. He thought of
his own life, and the path he would take. Still young, his focus had already
begun to take shape. He cared nothing for his family, his so-called
'friends', or any other, his life was his own, and he knew only one person
would truly care for his prosperity. Himself.
Sneaking out from his bunk, Narguth made his way to the dread anti-paladin
near the bottom of the volcano. His father and his bladesman ways be damned,
Nagruth thought. Only one guild taught it's members how to grow stronger at
the expense of others. Only one guild would allow him to fuse magic and melee
into a terrible combination of brute force and fire-giant ingenuity. It would
be many months before his father would find out, but only a day for Narguth
to realize he had made the right choice.
The soldiers, with heads bowed, laid the corpse of his father at the doorstep
of their home. His body scarred and twisted by horrible magics, a tint of ice
surrounded the once-mighty warrior's legs, as if something had sapped the
very life from them. Still smoking from some fell magic, the hole in his
adamantite breastplate was smooth, and appeared to have fused even as it
cauterized the gaping wound in his father's chest. Clearly any one of a
number of injuries would have proven fatal to the proud giant, but it was
clear that the sinister black mark upon his forehead had been left so that
there could be no doubt as to who had done this. Tenurak, the anti-paladin
who had taken Narguth under his tutelage, had wanted to make sure that
Narguth knew who had done this. The black, leering skull sans jawbone was
unmistakeable. Narguth felt nothing except confidence that he had chosen the
right path for himself. No desire for revenge or anything else entered his
mind, and his mother's tearful sobbing only sickened him with her apparent
weakness. It was that day that Narguth decided to leave the volcano, once and
for all, and never look back. Arriving in Arkham, only time will tell if this
tale continues.
Growth
Added Mon Sep 11 08:04:21 2006 at level 40:
It had been a long, hard road he had walked. As one who could only rely on
himself, Narguth knew it would take many months to complete his training. He
was unaware of just how many months. Time passed. He honed his defenses,
offenses, spells, as if determined to master them all. His skills grew, as
did his sense of self. It mattered not. Narguth had had an awakening of sorts
upon hearing the truth that was this Prophecy the Scions spoke of. He saw the
strength in their numbers. It was no longer a matter of 'if', it was now a
matter of 'when'.
Narguth had no problems manipulating the others of Thera to his own ends. The
Empire sought him to Oath. The Tribunals wanted him to enforce their laws.
Narguth used them all to grow in power and to gather items. He cared nothing
for their goals, their dreams, or their items of power. He aided them only
when it directly benefited him. The village had grown strong of late. Their
numbers swelled with those who would see magic torn asunder. Narguth
snickered at their stupidity. The village had fought magic since before the
Devil's Chosen, Minalcar, and had yet to make any headway. It was akin to
stopping the molten lava with a wooden spoon, he mused.
Many sought to grow with him. Surely his brute strength and savage ferocity
made him an ideal companion. Never did they get right to the point. Always it
would begin with a greeting, or a question. Narguth ignored the questions and
always demanded to know what they wanted. In the end, it was always the same.
To grow in guild. To grow stronger with items. To kill. It did not matter
which guild, which race, which cabal. All sought the same. Blind fools they
all were he thought. If ascending to the top meant climbing over their piled
corpses, so be it. He cared nothing for a single one of them. All could be
betrayed if the profits outweighed the drawbacks. The souls of the weak would
fuel his growth from now on.
He had made his decision. He would ally with those of Eternal Night. Narguth
had no desire to become a meal for the Ccul'gra when they came to conquer
this plane. Forbidden magic had always been the draw of the Anti-paladins
guild, and the Scions spoke of Magic in whispers that many did not dare
utter. Perhaps this would be the awakening he had sought.