| T O P I C R E V I E W |
| Chosen of Bane |
Posted - 19 May 2005 : 13:10:17
This is my first time writing any thing other than character backgrounds and I'm going to present it to my DM so I want some reviews first, it's quite long so if you get through it it's a testament to your patience!
I have briefly mentioned the situation in the thread "The most terrible situation a character can face". So nobody has to go looking I will cut and paste some of the backgrounnd info for the situation...
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Borin Ironspear Goldmallet II is a Gold Dwarf Paladin/Dwarven Defender
Early in his adventuring days (level 3-4) Borin fell victim to a wicked spell of domination. While under this magical compulsion Borin was forced to murder innocents and destroy the lives of enemies when they were helpless and sleeping. This happned to Borin twice during his early career and both times it devestated him that he could turn into such a monster.
Than when Borin was much more experienced and felt he was able to fight off such magical charms it happened to him again. Only this time his enchanter compelled him to smite the very party he defends with his life. Borin was powerless to resist and began absolutely hammering his adventuring companions.
When the fight looked grim his enchanter escaped via translocation magic and ended the command to kill his party, he figured it was a tool he could use another day. Borin however had been under this influence before and realized this type of domination could last days. He begged the party priest to dispel it but it was beyond his powers. So, being the champion of good that he was, Borin could no longer stomach the possibility of hurting his loved ones. Borin drew his mighty Stormblade (+1 Shocking Waraxe) and smote himself (Coup De Grace). So ended the career of Borin Ironspear Goldmallet II .
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Borin was with out question my favorite character of all time and naturally I wanted to bring him back. However, there were some issues with the Paladin and the party we chose so I looked for an alternative. Our group tended to be a little to chaotic so I decided I wanted to have a "Paladin of Freedom" from the Unearthed Arcana. The problem is he would no longer be able to be a Dwarven Defender if he was chaotic. If he could not be a Dwarven Defender he wouldn't have wasted his precious feats on Dodge, Endurance, and Toughness. So, I had to think of a solution because I didn't want to make a similar character, I wanted to somehow change Borin. My DM is always up for suggestions and I am hoping to bring Borin back as a Paladin of Freedom and his Dwarven Defender levels will turn into Barbarian levels so I can eventually take Dwarven Battle Rager.
I think that is a sufficiently long winded background... My reply to this post is what I plan to submit to my DM, please point out major flaws. Have I done a decent job describing the planes? What a character would be thinking? Other comments? I'm not really looking for grammer stuff, more like can this kind of thing really happen in the realms?
Thanks in advance.
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-Disclaimer: Sources used were Players Guide to Faerun, Faiths and Pantheons, Monster Manual, and information remembered from the Avatar Series read many years ago.
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| 4 L A T E S T R E P L I E S (Newest First) |
| Lord Desolation |
Posted - 24 May 2005 : 21:55:11
I first want to say why are you making a character of good if your name is chosen of Bane? Thats just wrong. But I do have to give you a hand. That was a really good character that you have created. But remember in the future if you have a name like the Chosen of Bane or Lord desalation for instance you better be ready to back it up. |
| Chosen of Bane |
Posted - 20 May 2005 : 17:37:44
quote:
Originally posted by Shadovar
An impressive start, keep posting, I would like to see what happen next.
Thank you for the kind words Shadovar!
The reason I do not keep posting is because this character is one that is currently dead and this is my proposal to my DM on how I could bring him back.
I was really looking for reasons "canon-wise" that this would not work so I could fix it before I present it to my DM. If Borin is brought back I can surely update his adventuring career for whoever is interested but first I have to bring him back.
Any other thoughts? Is this situation possible/plausible in the realms? |
| Shadovar |
Posted - 20 May 2005 : 13:02:42
An impressive start, keep posting, I would like to see what happen next. |
| Chosen of Bane |
Posted - 19 May 2005 : 13:11:32
“Brand me as a bloody orc if this is the only way to end this blasted curse” Borin thought as he brought his mighty axe, the Storm Blade, up beneath his chin. Borin spared one last glance at his allies, apologizing for his failure. Borin was resolved in the fact that he would draw his next breath in Dwarfhome, the realm of his patron. Borin then plunged his razor-sharp axe into his throat and his world turned to blackness…………….
Finally Borin’s eyes popped open he was again able to perceive light. However, it was not the bright, life-giving light of Lathander, nor the shining beacon of Selune and her tears that light the night sky; instead it was a sort of grayish light that Borin was sure he’d never experienced before. Borin’s mortal body had died once before and he clearly remembered his soul rising in a great mountain hold, swarming with dwarven souls, laboring endlessly over an ever-glowing forge. Everybody wore the most splendid beards and were decorated lavishly in the colors and symbols of their great clans. This time was very different…
The landscape of the realm contained no mountains. The plane contained no hills, trees, or water for that matter. Around Borin was a land of nothingness. The sky was a bland gray that provided just enough illumination for a surface dweller to see. The only remarkable feature that Borin could see was a great crystal spire. The glass tower seemed to be the center of all existence. Surrounding the crystal spire was tightly packed metropolis of souls. Unlike the souls of Dwarfhome, Borin could not tell if they were the souls of elves, men, or the stout folk. All seemed to have a roughly humanoid shape with no remarkable features. Every soul was a pale gray and seemed to possess no clothes or features to separate them from the rest of the crowd. Borin self-consciously looked down at himself and came to a horrific revelation…Borin was one of them. His flowing red-brown beard that he had grown for all 66 winters was no more. His regal looking Goldmallet regalia he had in his last experience was replaced with the pale gray skin of the masses.
All around Borin the souls pleaded to their patrons. The crowds seemed to form into small clusters, each chanting to their respective deities. The crowd around Borin was chanting incessantly to Sune, the firehaired goddess of love and beauty. Borin stood captivated at the irony of a horde of featureless looking souls screaming their faith to the goddess of beauty. After some time, Borin could not put a value to time here; it could have been seconds or years for all he knew. Suddenly Borin was snapped out of his daze as a creature resembling a massively muscular and tall human with smooth emerald skin, white feathered wings, and a baldhead of striking beauty materialized out of nowhere. The angel approached the massive gathering and the souls drew silent. In a melodic voice that could have been a song the angel spoke; “Marcaria Dovetail, Edaline Fairskin, Nedalia Tallstag…” the angel began listing names of the souls gathered before it. “Lady Firehair has heard your prayers and will reward your life of devout service, follow my wake and behold the beauty of Brightwater!” The angel then ascended into the gray sky with a path of followers in its wake. As they ascended Borin could see them take on the forms of stunningly beautiful beings. Elves, humans, and even some fey folk that Borin did not recognize materialized out of the gray featureless forms they once were. Left behind were a handful of souls who the angel had not listed. Many of them fell to the bland ground in anguish; some yelled all the louder to Sune, and some even cursed the Lady of Passion. Before Borin could approach the souls and ask them why their goddess had shunned them another being materialized out of nothingness…
The new being standing before Borin was as big as an ogre, with a vaguely humanoid shape. Hideous scales sheathed its body. Huge wings and a snaking, prehensile tail added to its intimidating appearance. This fiendish looking monstrosity quickly approached the picked-over souls.
Borin called to Moradin and asked him to help him determine the nature of this being. No one answered. It was not the same as when Borin tried to sense evil in a goodly person, instead it was nothing at all. Somehow the link to the Soulforger had been cut. Borin decided it would be best to rely on his mortal instinct and assume that the creature before him was evil.
With a presence that carried all of the confidence in the multiverse and a sweet, persuasive tone the fiend stood before the souls and said, “My name is Volkor, I am a Cornugon and servant of the Nine-Hells. The deities you claim to worship have rejected you. Your destiny is to remain in this plane for eternity and suffer the most extreme boredom you could ever dream.” Many of the souls hung their heads in a defeated posture; to Borin it looked as if their spirit had been completely burnt out. One soul from the pack did stand in defiance and curse the being before it but Volkor, if that was indeed its name, swatted the soul away like a bear swats the bees away from their honeycomb. The devil then finished, “There is an alternative to this bleak existence. If you break old bonds and swear fealty to the Nine-Hells you will be given powers beyond your wildest dreams and be recruited to join in the most meaningful battle the multiverse has ever seen, the Bloodwar. Although you will start out weak, you will be given every opportunity to prove your worth and gain power as you ascend in rank. Who now wishes to cast aside this mundane existence in trade for extreme power? And I remind you, Sune has already rejected you.” A handful of the rejected souls stepped forward and volunteered to “better themselves”. In similar fashion to the angel carrying away the true-servants of Sune, the devil ascended with his handful of new servants, as they left their forms shifted to that of a revolting blob of molten flesh, with vaguely humanoid torsos and heads.
Borin was blown away by what was happening around him. He called out once more to Moradin, “All-father, why have you condemned me to this cursed place?” As before, Borin received no answer. “I guess I better find me some of me kinsman and see what’s goin’ on in this orc-blasted realm” Borin said to himself. He then began wading through the massive city of souls. On his journey that might have taken minutes or decades Borin heard calls to Tyr, the God of Justice, Mystra, the Goddess of Magic, and even cries to dark deities such as Cyric and Malar. Finally Borin came to a feature of the realm he had not seen before. A massive wall surrounded the city, keeping the souls massed together like a heard of rothe. As Borin approached the wall he felt his stomach turn. The wall was composed of millions of souls crammed together, writhing in agony. Borin turned on his heels and immediately struck off in another direction.
After what seemed like a lifetime of walking around the dreary plane Borin heard something that was music to his ears. “Here us o’ Soul Forger, your sons are calling. Blessed Clangeddin, Father of Battle, your stout soldiers await you!” Although they looked identical to all other occupants of the realm Borin knew at once that these were his kinsmen. Borin happily joined the crowd and began calling out to the Soul Forger and the rest of the Morndinsamman. After what could have been days of calling their prayers were answered. From the ground before them, a servant of Moradin drew near…
The servant resembled an extremely powerfully built dwarf with brilliant topaz eyes, silvery skin, gleaming white wings, and a flowing platinum beard. “Stout folk, the Morndinsamman has heard the prayers of their faithful. Torgo Drumbarrell, Foli Ironroot, Delg Darkstone…” The list went on, after what seemed like all of eternity to Borin the angel finished and said “these are the faithful, and these are those that should be rewarded, the Soul Forger has spoken.” Borin stood dumbfounded; his name was not mentioned. “Your grace, why has my name not been called? I have served the Dwarffather devoutly for my entire life. I have visited Dwarfhome once before, why am I rejected by the All-father?” The solar halted its departure, “Borin Ironspear Goldmallet the second, it is not our custom to waste time conversing with the unworthy but I feel you are owed this courtesy. You have committed the greatest sin a dwarf can commit. You have willingly struck down a Champion of Dwarvenkind.” Borin was appalled by the response he received. “I was under the influence of wicked magic, it was the only way to save my friends”, Borin retorted. “Nay young Goldmallet, the compeller did not order you to harm yourself in any way. Twice you had been under a similar curse and twice you escaped without taking your life. Borin Ironspear Goldmallet II, you took the way of the coward, you have slain a previously unblemished servant of Moradin, and you are damned to a life in the Fugue Plane as one of the false” the solar finished as it turned and departed with the “faithful” into a life of paradise, working the forge for all eternity.
Borin was devastated. Sixty-six years of servitude despoiled in one brief moment. Six and a half decades walking the straight and narrow path of the righteous washed away for something Borin thought was heroic. Borin collapsed to the ground in dismay. “What have I done? I am an embarrassment to me clan.” Borin closed his featureless eyes, the eyes of the false, and lied on the nondescript ground of the Fugue Plane.
Borin’s miserable slumber was broken by the screams of those around him. He looked up to see a gang of massive, roughly humanoid toads with arms in place of forelegs. Their wide mouths had rows of powerful teeth and they were herding the souls of the false. The demons fiendish mouths turned up in evil grins as they tortured the defenseless souls. Borin could stomach it no longer. “Fellow False. The deities whom we love have rejected us. We have sentenced to eternity in this bleak realm. Nobody says we need to also endure the torture of these blasted creatures of the abyss! We may not have weapons, we may not have the support of our gods, but we have the strength of millions. Lets put an end to this madness!” A cacophony of cheers roared around Borin. A swarm of the false turned from their flight and instead overwhelmed the troupe of demons. Borin then charged in as well, and together they were able to scatter the demons. Due to the ability to resist damage the demons were very difficult to slay, but the superior numbers of the false allowed them to swarm the demons, pin them, and give them a beating they would never forget.
The next years of Borin’s life were spent drilling the false. Teaching them the tactics that would best support their numbers and minimize the impact of their lack of arms and armor was what kept Borin going. In each battle a thousand false would fall for every demon but at least it gave the false a sense of existence. They were more than just false; they were warriors, defending their souls from unholy torment.
After thousands of battles over years in the Fugue Plane Borin was sought out by an enormous angel. A forty-foot tall titan who looked like a phenomenally muscled human approached Borin. “Borin Ironspear Goldmallet the Second, your actions in life, and more so in death have proven your worth to the Lord of Battles, your commitment to drill and warfare are recognized…” Borin interrupted, “I am sorry loyal servant of the heavens, Clangeddin Silverbeard has already rejected me.” The titan retorted “Borin, be patient and hear me out, I am not a servant of Clangeddin Silverbeard. The Lord of the Twin Axes is not the only deity who favors warriors. I am a humble servant of Tempus whom is called the Lord of Battles by some and the Foehammer by others. Your actions here amongst the false have caught my liege’s attention. He has summoned you to his realm in the Warrior’s Rest. Will you join me Borin, Captain of the False?” Borin stood for a moment and thought to himself. He then took a knee and said, your magnificence, it would be an honor to accompany you to your Lord Tempus.
Warrior’s Rest was a raging chaos of constant battle. Random shifts of terrain equaled the battlefield for those waging the eternal war. The titan led Borin to a large pavilion tent, decorated with flaming swords on a crimson backdrop. Inside was a large table with a topographic map sitting upon it. Every few seconds the terrain on the map would shift to represent the chaos that was happening outside. On the map were figurines of countless soldiers, cavalry, and siege towers arrayed strategically against each other. Seated at the head of the table was a being, twice the size of a man in full-plate armor that had been bloodied and battered in combat. Though his face was hidden by a massive war helm, his hooded gaze held a palpable force of divine energy. Upon his lap sat a huge, black great axe notched many times in his gauntleted hands. Without introduction Borin knew this to be the Lord of Battles himself. Borin humbly dropped to one knee and awaited Tempus’s words. Tempus rose from his chair, towering over Borin in his godly magnificence.
“Borin Goldmallet. Your actions in life, and in death, have shown you to be a soul truly worthy of a place here on warriors rest. What say you to my invitation to come here and join my everlasting battle?” Borin modestly answered, “Lord Tempus, I am unworthy of your praise. I was simply doing what I thought was right. I fear I lack what it takes to be one of your followers. Three times in my life I was forced to turn on my companions through magical compulsion, who can trust a general that attacks his men?” Tempus lifted a gloved hand and pointed his bloody index finger at Borin. A ray of divine energy enveloped Borin; Borin had never felt so free. “Borin, I have bestowed an aura of resolve upon you, never again will your soul fall victim to compulsion magic.” Borin was stunned; he knew instantly that the Lord of Battles spoke the truth. “Your Lordship, I do not know what to say.” Tempus answered, “Say nothing child of battle. The spirit and passion you showed in your time on the Fugue Plane shows that you are worthy. I have not seen such passion for warfare in many of my finest barbarians. Drop the strict order of the Morndinsamman; embrace the rage within, lust for battle and use your feel for warfare. Let the thirst for battle guide your actions, then you will truly be a follower or the Foehammer!” Borin was awed by the whole experience. He could not imagine a deity recognizing him as an individual, not even Moradin had spoke to him on his previous trip to the after-life. Borin however had some thoughts he needed to be let out on the table. “Lord Tempus, I fought those battles on the Fugue Plane because I was fighting evil. I take no pleasure in fighting simply for the thrill of battle. I am a warrior of good, and though Moradin has forsaken me I can not alter my nature.” Tempus looked pleased at this response. “Borin, I do not preach battle for the sake of battle. I believe in fighting for a worthy cause. Fight for the weak as you always have, but don’t simply fight for them, teach them to fight for themselves. Do not wage war recklessly, and above all, battle tyranny in all of its forms. Freedom is the greatest reward of warfare. Never let the actions of an individual be guided by anything but their own heart. Fight for Freedom Borin!” Borin then realized his splendid axe, the Storm Blade, was at his hip. He drew his mighty blade and swore an oath, “Lord of All Battles, I am honored to simply be standing before you. Your recognition is more than I could ever dream of. Anything you wish of me will be carried through my lord, I am an axe at your disposal.” Tempus seemed satisfied by this. As Tempus spoke his next words the entire plane shook as if a thousand volcanoes were erupting at once, and perhaps they were, “Borin Ironspear Goldmallet the Second, you are now one of my own. No longer are you a knight of Moradin, but a Champion of War and Freedom, follow your heart, give into the rage within, and always fight in the name of the Foehammer.” Borin then felt himself being enveloped in godly magic one more time. In the blink of an eye everything that Borin had ever learned had been changed. Instead of learning to use order and structure to win battles Borin now knew how to embrace his zeal and fight like a mighty berserker. His lust for law and order were changed to a burning passion to set every man free and end tyranny.
“There is one more thing I would ask of you my loyal servant” Tempus thundered. “Anything my lord”, Borin answered. Go back to your homeland one last time. The people of Red Gorge need a general who can prepare them for the coming storm. I promise that you will join me once again at Warrior’s Rest in the end.” Borin answered, “Anything for you my lord”.
When Borin awoke next he was dressed in the crimson robes and tabard of a warrior of Tempus. From his neck hung a symbol of a fiery greatsword on a crimson shield. Borin was donned in mithril armor similar to that which he wore in life and his mighty Storm Blade was sheathed at his hip. Borin somehow knew that he was on the trail just outside of Red Gorge. He strode into camp with one purpose, to free Red Gorge of the threat that was to come.
When Borin entered Red Gorge he was stunned to find that he had only been dead for a tenday. Time passed very differently on the Fugue Plane. Borin had endured years of the afterlife and almost nothing had changed in the meantime in Faerun. Borin immediately got to work devising a defense of Red Gorge and training the people for the upcoming storm.
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