Wednesday, July 16, 2014

HUSKAR

"Those who are given more in life must not cling to it but risk it all in every moment."





Emerging from the throes of the sacred Nothl Realm, Huskar opened his eyes to see the prodigal shadow priest Dazzle working a deep incantation over him. Against the ancient rites of the Dezun Order, Huskar’s spirit had been saved from eternity, but like all who encounter the Nothl he found himself irrevocably changed. No longer at the mercy of a mortal body, his very lifeblood became a source of incredible power; every drop spilled was returned tenfold with a fierce, burning energy. However this newfound gift infuriated Huskar, for in his rescue from the Nothl, Dazzle had denied him a place among the gods. He had been denied his own holy sacrifice. In time the elders of the order sought to expand their influence and Huskar, they agreed, would be a formidable tool in their campaign. Yet becoming a mere weapon for the order that denied him his birthright only upset him further. As the first embers of war appeared on the horizon, he fled his ancestral home to find new allies, all the while seeking a cause worthy of unleashing the power his total sacrifice could bring.
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OMNIKNIGHT

"I have gazed into the Omniscience, and it has gazed into me."








Purist Thunderwrath was a hard-fighting, road-worn, deeply committed knight, sworn to the order in which he had grown up as squire to elder knights of great reputation. He had spent his entire life in the service of the Omniscience, the All Seeing One. Theirs was a holy struggle, and so embedded was he in his duty that he never questioned it so long as he had the strength to fight and the impetuous valor that comes with youth. But over the long years of the crusade, as his elders passed away and were buried in sorry graves at the side of muddy tracks, as his bond-brothers fell in battle to uncouth creatures that refused to bow to the Omniscience, as his own squires were chewed away by ambush and plague and bad water, he began to question the meaning of his vows--the meaning of the whole crusade. After deep meditation, he parted ways with his army and commenced a long trek back to the cave-riddled cliffs of Emauracus, and there he set a challenge to the priests of the Omniscience. No knight had ever questioned them before, and they tried to throw him into the pit of sacrifice, but Purist would not be moved. For as he faced them down, he began to glow with a holy light, and they saw that the Omniscience had chosen to reveal Itself to him. The Elder Hierophant led him on a journey of weeks down into the deepest chamber, the holy of holies, where waited not some abstract concept of wisdom and insight, not some carved relic requiring an injection of imagination to believe in, but the old one itself. It had not merely dwelt in those rocks for billions of aeons; no, It had created them. The Omniscience had formed the immense mineral shell of the planet around itself, as a defense against the numerous terrors of space. Thus the All Seeing One claimed to have created the world, and given the other truths revealed to Purist on that day, the knight had no reason to refute the story. Perhaps the Omniscience is a liar, deep in its prison of stone, and not the world's creator at all, but Omniknight never again questioned his faith. His campaign had meaning at last. And there can be no question that the glorious powers that imbue him, and give his companions such strength in battle, are real beyond any doubt.
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Saturday, July 12, 2014

CLOCKWERK

"A good offense is the best armor. Good armor is also good armor."






Rattletrap descends from the same far-flung kindred as Sniper and Tinker, and like many of the Keen Folk, has offset his diminutive stature through the application of gadgetry and wit. The son of the son of a clockmaker, Rattletrap was many years apprenticed to that trade before war rode down from the mountains and swept the plains villages free of such innocent vocations. “Your new trade is battle,” his dying father told him as the village of their ancestors lay in charred and smoking ruins.

It is a poor tradesman who blames his tools, and Rattletrap was never one to make excuses. After burying his father among the ruins of their village, he set about to transform himself into the greatest tool of warfare that any world had ever seen. He vowed to never again be caught unprepared, instead using his talents to assemble a suit of powered Clockwerk armor to make the knights of other lands look like tin cans by comparison. Now Rattletrap is alive with devices—a small but deadly warrior whose skills at ambush and destruction have risen to near-automated levels of efficiency. An artisan of death, his mechanizations make short work of the unwary, heralding a new dawn in this age of warfare. What time is it? It's Clockwerk time!
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WRAITHKING

"Purer than flesh, stronger than bone, imperishable is the essence of the wraith."










For untold years, King Ostarion built a kingdom from the remains of his enemies. It was an obsessive's errand, done to pass the long eternities of a monarchy that seemed fated never to end. He believed that as long as he built up the towers of his palace, he could not die. But eventually he learned that he had been deluded...that bone itself could perish. Deeply mistrustful of flesh, he sought a more permanent way of extending his reign, and at last settled on pursuit of wraith energy, a form of pure spirit given off by certain dark souls at death. Should he infuse himself with Wraith Essence, he thought he might create a body as luminous and eternal as his ego. On the millennial solstice known as Wraith-Night, he submitted to a rite of transformation, compelling his subjects to harvest enough souls to fuel his ambition for immortality. No one knows how many of his champions died, for the only survivor who mattered was the Wraith King who rose with the sun on the following morn. Now he rarely spends a moment on his glowing throne--but strides out with sword drawn, demanding a fealty that extends far beyond death.
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Thursday, July 10, 2014

DRAGONKNIGHT

"The Dragon Slyrak sleeps within this armor, and the knight within the Dragon waits. Beware you do not wake them both."












After years on the trail of a legendary Eldwurm, the skilled dragon-slayer found himself facing a disappointing foe: the dreaded Slyrak had grown ancient and frail, its wings tattered, its few remaining scales stricken with scale-rot, its fangs ground to nubs, and its fire-gouts no more threatening than a pack of wet matchsticks. Seeing no honor to be gained in dragon-murder, the young knight prepared to turn away and leave his old foe to die in peace. But a voice crept into his thoughts, and Slyrak gave a whispered plea that the knight might honor him with death in combat. The knight agreed, and found himself rewarded beyond expectation for his act of mercy: As he sank his blade in Slyrak's breast, the dragon sank a claw into his throat. As their blood mingled, Slyrak sent his power out along the Blood Route, offering all its strength and centuries of wisdom to the knight. The dragon's death sealed their bond, and Dragon Knight was born. The ancient power slumbers in the knight, waking when he calls it; or perhaps it is the Dragon that calls the Knight...
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BEASTMASTER

"I run with the rabbit and hunt with the hounds."








Karroch was born a child of the stocks. His mother died in childbirth; his father, a farrier for the Last King of Slom, was trampled to death when Karroch was five. Afterward Karroch was indentured to the king’s menagerie, where he grew up among all the beasts of the royal court: lions, apes, fell-deer, and things less known, things barely believed in. When the lad was seven, an explorer brought in a beast like none before seen. Dragged before the King in chains, the beast spoke, though its mouth moved not. Its words: a plea for freedom. The King only laughed and ordered the beast perform for his amusement; and when it refused, struck it with the Mad Scepter and ordered it dragged to the stocks.

Over the coming months, the boy Karroch sneaked food and medicinal draughts to the wounded creature, but only managed to slow its deterioration. Wordlessly, the beast spoke to the boy, and over time their bond strengthened until the boy found he could hold up his end of a conversation—could in fact speak now to all the creatures of the King's menagerie. On the night the beast died, a rage came over the boy. He incited the animals of the court to rebel and threw open their cages to set them amok on the palace grounds. The Last King was mauled in the mayhem. In the chaos, one regal stag bowed to the boy who had freed him; and with Beastmaster astride him, leapt the high walls of the estate, and escaped. Now a man, Karroch the Beastmaster has not lost his ability to converse with wild creatures. He has grown into a warrior at one with nature’s savagery.


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SLARDAR

"I guard what slumbers in the deeps."







Slardar is a Slithereen, one of the Deep Ones, guardian of the great wealth of sunken cities and the ancient riches buried there. In the lightless gulf of the great ocean abysses, the Slithereen Guard carries his lure-light with him through the secret treasure rooms. Subaqueous thieves (sent into the deeps by covetous dryland sorcerers) are drawn in by its friendly glow, never to return. He is utterly loyal, and his taciturn nature hides deep knowledge of the most secret places of the sea. He rises to the shallows in spite of the pain caused him by brightness, to commit reconnaissance, to make sure no one is conspiring against the depths, and sometimes in relentless pursuit of the rare few who manage to steal off with an item from the Sunken Treasury. Because he has spent his whole life at great pressure, under tremendous weight of the sea, Slardar the Slithereen Guard is a creature of great power.
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