The Harrowed Halls of Duhn Korinth
Scythan Dwarf raised by Trolls
The scene in Loak’s Legacy was as it is every other night. high energy, high spirits, mostly false hopes heightened by the alcohol. out of place only by stature an old and hardened dwarf, not off in a corner, not brooding to himself. Loud and boisterous was this little dwarf among giants, the standard amid the loud and rowdy adventurers all vying for attention, everyone shouting tales of their deeds to the nearby townsfolk who would hear the deeds. but he, not even waist high amid the troll skyraiders sharing drinks and slapping each other in fits of strength that would bruise a normal man. curious was the scene only to me, as he did not boast his own deeds, only those of his companions. obvious to a veteran such as myself the fiery red hair and scythan accent were out of place and he rubbed most people wrong.
Something is still out of place his limp was old a reward for some heroic deed, surely he had tales of wonder, legends of adventure, tales of honor. but there he sits amid the torrent of emotions, the magic of friends and does not take part to be one of them. content to be nearby. my little windling eyes see even though he sits and listens to the stories he is still searching, waiting, lost and blind in a labrynth of sadness.
ah, I see it now, it has been so long. His journey is not over, and here he sits waiting to hear an adventurer regale a fallen brother, seeking someone who believes in more than themself.
|NAME: Thovar Stonefire||DISCIPLINE : Sky Raider (3)|
|RACE: Scythan Dwarf||AGE: 32|
|Height: 3’11” ft||Weight: 196 lbs|
|Dexterity (16) :||7 / 1d12|
|Strength (19) :||8 / 2d6|
|Toughness (24) :||9 / 1d8,1d6|
|Perception (10) :||5 / 1d8|
|Willpower (15) :||6 / 1d10|
|Charisma (8) :||4 / 1d6|
|Physical : 10||Step : 4 (7-3)||Physical : 9||Carrying : 230 lbs||Dice : 1d6||Rate : 5|
|Spell : 9||Dice : 1d6||Mystic : 3||Lifting: 460 lbs||Max : 12|
|Social : 5|
|Death Rating||Wound Threshold||Unconscious Rating||Recovery Tests||Recovery Step|
|Air Sailing||(3/Wil) 9||Yes||No||Standard||0||1d8+1d6|
|Battle Shout||(3/Cha) 7||Yes||No||Simple||1||1d12|
|Karma Ritual (Sky Raider)||(3/Cha)7||Yes||No||Sustained||0||1d12|
|Melee Weapons||(4/Dex) 10||Yes||No||Standard||0||2d8|
|Great Leap||(3/Dex) 9||Yes||No||Free||1||1d8+1d6|
|Shield Charge||(2/Str) 10||Yes||No||Free||1||2d8|
|K: Barsaive History||(1/Per)6||Free||0||1d10|
|K: Scythan Lore||(1/Per)6||Free||0||1d10|
|K: Horror Lore||(1/Per)6||Free||0||1d10|
|Scythan, Throalic, Theran, Troll|
|Battle Axe||(7/Str)15||0||2d6+1d12||Belongs to Rok|
|Backpack||Bedroll||Flint & Steel|
|Artisan Tools (Cartography)||Dagger||Traveler’s Garb|
|Dwarf Rations OOOOO||100’ Rope + Hook||Esperaga Teeth|
|Ogre Teeth||Rakken Teeth/Eye||Lockable Cart|
|Draft Horse||Medallion (Kalorin symbol) 2||Theran Slaver Insignia|
|War Dog||Travelling Cloak|
|Unspent Legend Points||Spent Legend Points||Legend Point Total||Legendary Status|
Thovar stands waist high to most of the giant heroes of the lands of barsaive, and is almost as wide as he is tall, Lightning Dances across plated armor a storm trapped within the chaotic energy it shows belies his stoic appearance, his fiery red hair drowns out his almost glowing Eyes, the masses of scars he has endured as a child, and out of place adventurer have naturally grown Lighter in color, but have been mostly hidden under the Runic tattooes he has adorned himself with. Some designs interlink his scars, showing to a skilled interpreter their story.
The Summer night was cold, an unnatural wind caressed the streets of the kaer, it was under the full Waxing moon and rising sign of the Storm in the season of Fire. The decendants of the Troll Kaer that had taken in a family of dwarves during the time of the scourge had adepts skilled in the reading of signs. But this birth was filled with a mix of the fire of battle and the gloom of death. Even though they were dwarves the Trolls had grown to accept them as friend and looked upon them as brethren in the long generations of the Kaer. And now that the Town was flourishing and they had been taught the ways of the Raiders. But still they remained the only dwarves and hoped that after the kaer opened that their path would be other than the simple life in the mountains, the destiny of their people who had survived. The Journey to their home was not far but the path was treacherous, after the sundering of SCytha it was no longer able to reclaim a lost kingdom. they had to wait and so they waited too long to return and attempt to rebuild their lost home.
A young Thovar grew up in the sky raiders path and felt a longing in each footstep being torn between the deck of a skyship and the whisper of the wind from a still cavern. All his life his parents told him stories passed down from generations how they were the sole survivors and heir to the throne of scythan. But as it was his heritage, it was also his curse the weight of a decision had to be made. Should their ancestors return the Scythan’s of old, or should he being the strongest heir to the throne ascend the path to seek out the crown and prove his lineage. His only clues were the diary he clung to and the memory of the banner that surely no herald would remember from an age so long past. How would he if he took the weight of that destiny upon himself and sought to unite his people? The weight of the world on atlas’s shoulders, seemed the same weight as this decision to the young dwarf. But time went on and fate took its course. Friends raiding the lands wide eyed brought news that Rollo Redbeard claimed lineage!
The decision was made, he would confront Rollo and walk the path of the noble. But as the passions would have it, that is not the way destiny is to be played. Amiable and charismatic as Redbeard was Thovar felt the chilled wind as they talked, and did not realize until later that they were inside Rollo’s personal chamber when the breeze blew, a sign that the passions tried to warn him of the treachery. That very night a thief from the shadows took Thovar by surprise, a dagger to his shoulder. Obviously not an adept the assassin’s blade was caught in the armored scales of his regalia, his long fiery red hair had obscured the assassin’s strike, as he looked up into the short human’s face he realized this was but a man, not a killer, still having accepted the responsibility to remove thovar from Rollo’s “problems” was not a decision Thovar could let go…
A dwarf of such small stature should have the earthen fortitude of an obsidiman, but the gauntlet of assassins in the coming weeks continually tested even the unatural constitution of a dwarf, and so he fled. Realizing too late that Rollo had no intention of handing over the right of nobility to him, he hid. With such a powerful enemy how could he prevail? The crown, he had to find it…but how?