Description
The man before you stands above six feet, broad of shoulder and strong of
features. His scalp is shaved to within an inch of his skull, his light brown
hair still leaving an ample forehead. His face is broad yet strong looking,
his nose crooked ever so slightly to the right, the result of some previous
break. Off the top left corner of his mouth, a small scar runs an inch,
giving him a slight sneer. He is clad in a black robe trimmed with white,
around his neck hanging a dangling medallion emblazoned with a battered
pentagram. About his waist is strapped a dirk, though you sense he prefers
the battered walking staff in his hands. A myriad of other pouches, most
likely for spell components, adorn his person. While not unkind looking, he
does have an aura of menace about him.
Role
"Forging" (contd)
Added Fri Aug 24 18:52:38 2007 at level 10:
I cant stop you, Borin BurntHammer. I dont know how what Ive done
is evil, but Im not strong enough to fend you off. Constable, Im
assuming you side with the dwarf? Seeing the officer nod reluctantly,
Ravenar sighed, accepting his fate.
Well then. Thats how itll be. But I pray you, let go my wrist for
but an instant. Let me save her. Confident that, at least, he would save
Violet with his last breaths, Ravenar moved for the iron. But the grip only
tightened.
Cant lad. Yer spread th taint ter her.Ill be askin Thror to
guide er soul to the great beyond, but its too late fer her, too. Cant
say Im happy Felish decided er death was worth yers, but its gotter be
done lad. Ain nothing fer it. With that, the dwarf reached to his
side, grasping for a spiked mace.
Ravenar began to tremble. Butbut shes dying! How can you let her
die like this? Shes wasnt born with my...Damnit, dont do this!
Shaking his head slowly, the old dwarf continued his movement. Felish began
to cackle, and broke free from the constable, kicking the man in his groin.
Taking up the still-bloody knife, he advanced on Ravenar.
Acting out of instinct, he snapped his will toward Felish. Thinking in a way
he never dreamed, he pictured the old mans arthritic joints.With a
wildly angry thought, he pictured the rigor advancing faster than possible.
The old man screamed as his knees buckled, blood welling through his
trousers. His hands tightened into crippled claws, and in that last horrid
moment, his ribs snapped inwards, piercing his heart. Ravenar had moved the
mans bones with a thought.
There was still hope then for her then.As quick as he could, he turned his
thoughts on Borin, intending the same for the dwarf. Focusing on the hand
clasped about his wrist, he poured all his fears for Violet into his
thoughts, willing the bones to MOVE. Snarling angrily, the dwarf seemed to
shrug off his efforts, the backlash sending Ravenar sprawling across the
room.
Yer little mageborn shite. Yer thinking because me beard be white I
kent still eat yer stinkin dweomers fer breakfast? With a chortle that
seemed markedly less remorseful than his earlier tone, the dwarf advanced on
the young man.
Ravenar knew true terror then, but didnt even pause to consider his
options. Willing his muscles to react faster than they ever had, to somehow
make him fast as a normal youth, he sprinted across the room, grabbing the
iron. Without his protective gloves, the metal scalded his flesh, but he
didnt pause.Pressing the iron to Violets wound, he began to stop the
flow of blood.
But fate seemed in the mood for dramatic clichs that evening, and the
dwarf caught him just before he could finish. The mace snapped his arm
cleanly, a wash of pain overriding his concentration. Without thinking, he
spun and cast the iron into the dwarfs face. His aim was good, and he caught
the dwarf in one eye. Horribly burned, the old veteran dropped to one knee,
clasping his face. But Ravenar had bought his own life at the cost of
another. The iron was out of his reach for good, and Violets body had
shaken off his ministrations. Seeing her life leave her, Ravenar knew then
that his only hope was to save himself, and he cast off into the night,
fleeing his tribe and family NcWoarn for ever.
A Bright Future
Added Fri Aug 24 18:46:45 2007 at level 10:
The boy looked down at his new robes and smiled. They were plain white, and
not yet trimmed in any color, the standard uniform of an initiate medicine
man, yet they filled him with great pride. Hed been born with incredibly
poor reflexes and below average strength, normally a terrible combination in
his culture. They believed in strength, and were one of the main human
tribes to send recruits to the Battleragers. Magic was anathema.
Yet somewhere growing up, hed discovered a certain affinity for the
healing arts. He knew it wasnt divine, as hed never really been one
for prayer, but he just seemed to have an instinct for how to set that broken
bone, and was always lucky at stopping bleeding, even when some others
failed.So he joined the healers coven, ready for a life of service.
As his parents stood there, watching Ravenar receive his initiates mantle,
they were filled with prideand a sense of relief. His father believed his
son to be a liability, one to bring dishonor to the family, but his boy had
actually taken his weakness and benefited the tribe. He couldnt be more
pleased.
Not bothering to conceal their happiness, his parents stood among their
neighbors, accepting their accolades. The old widower next door came over,
his expression out of place amongst the rest of the grins.
Mark my words, NcWoarn, that son of yours is trouble. Aint natural, him
always knowin just what to do to keep a body alive. Aint right.
Turning to scowl at the old man, Geerat NcWoarn opened his mouth. Leave
it alone Felish. Just because all your sons died fighting the Great War,
dont take it out on my boy. Hes practically a cripple and has managed
to build himself a life, he said, sighing deeply. He knew well of
Felishs malicious streak. Ever since the man had lost his four sons in
the fight against a rogue band of sorcerers, hed changed. Where once
there was pride and accomplishment, there was now only bitterness and
suspicion.
Conjuring a great wad of spit, Felish let fly at NcWoarns feet.
Practically a cripple? Hah, that boy of yours should be daid. Aint
natural hes survived this wrong. Probably a warlock o some sort.
By this point, the gathering had gone silent. That was akin to calling
someone a murder in their tribe.
An uneasy silence filled the air. Ravenar himself had gone very quiet,
drawing into himself in deep humiliation. One of the others broke the
silence first. Were tired of you and your ways, Felish. Take your pain
and go crawl into another barrel of ale
As the laughter of his friends and family filled the air, Ravenar watched the
old man, his face a mask of rage, angrily flee the scene. While he didnt
think anything odd about his gifts, Ravenar couldnt help but believe he
had just gotten away with something. But, as he lie in bed at the end of the
day, he found that those feelings disappeared. In the morning he would begin
his initiate, and he could finally prove himself a worthy member of the
tribe, and do right by family NcWoarn.
BurntHammer
Added Fri Aug 24 18:48:54 2007 at level 10:
Two years had passed, and Ravenar was nearing the halfway mark in his
training. Life had quieted down, his parents had enjoyed several years of
bountiful harvests, and the millers daughter had even been sending a few
smiles his way.Him! The boy the others had scoffed at, too slow to keep up
at tag, and too weak to wrestle.
Chuckling at himself, Ravenar snapped out of his memories. The past is
done, boy, be happy for yourself. He talked to himself sometimes, but
didnt think that too strange. He spent most of his days around old men,
learning the healing Art, and needed some outlet for his thoughts. He was
beginning to daydream about his day off, thinking how he might wander down to
the millwhen he heard the commotion outside.
Walking to the doorway, he looked to see what was going on. Felish was
there, looking ever-so-smug, and with him was a short man with a bone-white
beard to his waist. Dwarves werent common in these parts, and Ravenar had
never met one. Noticing that Felish was speaking, he stopped to listen to
his words.
is Borin BurntHammer. Old Battleragergood man, tutored my boys a
while back. Felish paused, seeing Ravenar in the doorway. Been too
long since we had a Battlerager come around here. Borin ere can smell
magic, so well know if were ever under threat. Be good for us all
Felish trailed off, whispering something to the dwarf. Listening to the old
man, the dwarf turned inclined his head to rest his gaze on Ravenar, nodding
slightly. The message was clear. He would be watching.Without even knowing
why, Ravenar turned and hurried inside.He hadnt done anything wrong, but
he felt strangely uneasy. Still, nothing changed overnight, or even over the
next few weeks, so he let down his guard, and continued his routines as he
normally would, hopping he had been mistaken.
Life was quiet for another year. His training was going well, and he was
close enough to completion that he was sometimes left to be the healer on
call, usually late on uneventful nights. It was on one late night shift that
his life changed for ever.
"Forging"
Added Fri Aug 24 18:50:12 2007 at level 10:
Ravenar was staring out at the rain, imagining himself across the way, in
Violets cottage. The millers daughter had become his love, and they
were to be married. Felish had been mostly quiet, and the old dwarf was set
to leave. Whatever Felish had hoped to accomplish by bringing the old
Battlerager had failed, and he wasnt shy about furnishing Ravenar with
threats and scowls whenever the opportunity presented itself. It mustve
been Borins public proclamations of his intent to return to his mountain
home that set things off.
Lost in his thoughts, Ravenar almost fell out of his chair as the door burst
open. Borin walked in, bearing a girl in his arms. Ravenars heart sunk.
It was Violet. The old dwarf brought her over to the examining table and set
her down gently. There was blood. A lot of blood.
Felish caughter lad. Stabber her a few times in th gut. Aint
lookin good Im fearin. Aint got no idea fer the life o me why,
though. But Ravenar did. It was when traditional medicine failed that
his talent seemed to kick in. Felish knew it, and when nothing had
happened while Borin was with them, he took matters into his own hands.
The constable appeared then, clasping the old man in one hand, a bloody dirk
held in the other. Ravenar knew then that he was doomed. While he had never
thought his talents to be magical in nature, he knew now with a sudden lurch
in his stomach that the Battlerager would find something amiss.Still, it
was Violet. He had to.
Mustering his will, he poured all his conventional skills into staunching the
bleeding. But no mater how delicate his touch, he couldnt slow the tide
long enough to cauterize the wound cleanly. Drawing in a deep breath of air,
he paused to consider his final choices.
Almost calmly, he set the tip of the tiny iron to the flame, preparing it for
cauterization. Taking his hands, he placed them around her wounds, and
pictured the blood flowing through her.As he concentrated, he sent his
thoughts to her heart, willing it to slow. Nothing happened. He was about
to give up when the beating finally slowed. Her breathing soon slowed to
match. It was as if her entire system slowed to a state of rest.
Inwardly proud, he reached for the ironand felt an iron vice clamp down on
his wrist. His head snapped around, seeing Borins brawny hand gripping
his wrist. There was a look of resignation, almost sadness in the old
dwarfs eyes.
Felish was right about ye, lad. The violet spiders own touch guides
yer. Aint no gift neither. Time ter die, lad. Cant let the taint
spread. Nodding his head slowly, Ravenar caught movement from the corner
of his eye. Felish was grinning like the madman he was.
See Forging (contd)