02-24-2017, 01:57 AM
(This post was last modified: 02-24-2017, 12:58 PM by SnowHeart.
Edit Reason: Cleaning up typos/redundancies
)
*crack* So I bleed. *crack* I refuse. *crack* You cannot break me. *CRACK*
...
Ursk was once a free dwarf. Once. Today, some confuse the lack of a collar around his neck to mean he is free. Far from it. He has traded the master with the whip for another master, one that gives him strength but threatens to consume him utterly. He is not free. He knows this. And he does not care.
Decades ago when he was merely a child, Ursk's clan, nomads and merchants for the most part, had discovered a vein of noqual and began mining it. They tried to keep their efforts secret, primarily due to the value of their find but also knowing the danger. They had roamed far from the Five Kings Mountains and were perilously close to Numeria. However, it was not long before the Technic League heard through its agents of the dwarves' activities and dispatched their gearsmen to secure the site as well as bodies to operate the mine. The attack came before dawn after a night of celebration. Ursk was too young to partake, but he recalls it was a seasonal festival of some sort, giving thanks to some god for their bounty. A bitter brew.
His father fought to save him before being impaled upon a gearsman's crackling spear. His mother was slammed into unconsciousness and Ursk soon followed. When he awoke, she was gone and Ursk had a collar around his neck, manacles and chains around his wrists.
"You are not men. You are not dwarves. You are not beasts!", screamed the taskmaster. Crack! Someone screamed... It was Rundella. She'd always been nice to Ursk. "You are slaves. Less than beasts. The sooner you accept that, the happier you will be, for you will know purpose."
Rundella died soon after, unable to meet the demands of their taskmasters. Over the next couple of decades, Ursk's only companion was the rage welling within him. He nursed it. Held on to it. Every strike of his pick, every crack of the whip, the rage grew a little stronger. They will pay.
Eventually, an opportunity came. It had been brewing for some time. The taskmasters had grown complacent yet their cruelty had grown, too. CRACK! But no scream. Instead... CLANG! Someone's pickaxe drove into a gearsman's head. "Ggggghg!" One of the taskmasters was being strangled by another slave. By the time the masters had begun to organize, a full scale rebellion was underway. Ursk blacked out, the rage consuming him.
When Ursk woke, he found himself at the bottom of a pit surrounded by corpses. Bodies of the League's taskmasters lay along side the bodies of slaves. He imagined the League thought it had won, but Ursk knew better. The slaves were now equal to their masters and they were free. Forever. But not Ursk. He crawled out of the pit, finding himself miles away from the mining site. Over the following weeks, he managed to nurse himself back to health and began to plot his revenge against the League.
Within the last week, while gathering supplies and making ready for another raid on a League caravan, he has found himself in the town of Torch, the eponymous flame having been extinguished under mysterious circumstances.
They are slaves, too, they just don't know it. And the League will come to investigate. For now, I wait...
Appearance: One's first impression of Ursk might be that of a dwarf-sized flesh golem. His face is badly scarred, his beard is unkempt, and the tattoos inscribed on his scalp aren't tattoos at all but are yet more scars, carved with a blade. On purpose? Maybe. A particularly deep scar cuts from the side of his left eye to below his chin, an ugly pale gash against his leathered flesh. The flesh of his neck thick and calloused as if once rubbed raw over many years. He's of average height for a dwarf, clad in scalemail and carrying a fearsome axe.
Personality: It's been so long since Ursk was shown kindness, he is never the first to offer it. And when others offer it to him, His first response is always suspicion. To Ursk, not planting his axe in someone's skull is a courtesy. He should have to say "please" and "thank you", too!? Rubbish. Life is too brutal to give or expect niceties. It's not that he hates everyone; he just doesn't care about the worries of men. He is a slave and he has his purpose. Indulging the whims of free men and women and their notions of civilized society are no longer that purpose. As a consequence, he is slow to anger, but once unleashed, he gives everything to his rage. Little rouses his fury like the agents or machinations of the League. If he judges someone to be under the League's iron boot, he will give his life to protect them. It is the only way he will find freedom.
...
Ursk was once a free dwarf. Once. Today, some confuse the lack of a collar around his neck to mean he is free. Far from it. He has traded the master with the whip for another master, one that gives him strength but threatens to consume him utterly. He is not free. He knows this. And he does not care.
Decades ago when he was merely a child, Ursk's clan, nomads and merchants for the most part, had discovered a vein of noqual and began mining it. They tried to keep their efforts secret, primarily due to the value of their find but also knowing the danger. They had roamed far from the Five Kings Mountains and were perilously close to Numeria. However, it was not long before the Technic League heard through its agents of the dwarves' activities and dispatched their gearsmen to secure the site as well as bodies to operate the mine. The attack came before dawn after a night of celebration. Ursk was too young to partake, but he recalls it was a seasonal festival of some sort, giving thanks to some god for their bounty. A bitter brew.
His father fought to save him before being impaled upon a gearsman's crackling spear. His mother was slammed into unconsciousness and Ursk soon followed. When he awoke, she was gone and Ursk had a collar around his neck, manacles and chains around his wrists.
"You are not men. You are not dwarves. You are not beasts!", screamed the taskmaster. Crack! Someone screamed... It was Rundella. She'd always been nice to Ursk. "You are slaves. Less than beasts. The sooner you accept that, the happier you will be, for you will know purpose."
Rundella died soon after, unable to meet the demands of their taskmasters. Over the next couple of decades, Ursk's only companion was the rage welling within him. He nursed it. Held on to it. Every strike of his pick, every crack of the whip, the rage grew a little stronger. They will pay.
Eventually, an opportunity came. It had been brewing for some time. The taskmasters had grown complacent yet their cruelty had grown, too. CRACK! But no scream. Instead... CLANG! Someone's pickaxe drove into a gearsman's head. "Ggggghg!" One of the taskmasters was being strangled by another slave. By the time the masters had begun to organize, a full scale rebellion was underway. Ursk blacked out, the rage consuming him.
When Ursk woke, he found himself at the bottom of a pit surrounded by corpses. Bodies of the League's taskmasters lay along side the bodies of slaves. He imagined the League thought it had won, but Ursk knew better. The slaves were now equal to their masters and they were free. Forever. But not Ursk. He crawled out of the pit, finding himself miles away from the mining site. Over the following weeks, he managed to nurse himself back to health and began to plot his revenge against the League.
Within the last week, while gathering supplies and making ready for another raid on a League caravan, he has found himself in the town of Torch, the eponymous flame having been extinguished under mysterious circumstances.
They are slaves, too, they just don't know it. And the League will come to investigate. For now, I wait...
Appearance: One's first impression of Ursk might be that of a dwarf-sized flesh golem. His face is badly scarred, his beard is unkempt, and the tattoos inscribed on his scalp aren't tattoos at all but are yet more scars, carved with a blade. On purpose? Maybe. A particularly deep scar cuts from the side of his left eye to below his chin, an ugly pale gash against his leathered flesh. The flesh of his neck thick and calloused as if once rubbed raw over many years. He's of average height for a dwarf, clad in scalemail and carrying a fearsome axe.
Personality: It's been so long since Ursk was shown kindness, he is never the first to offer it. And when others offer it to him, His first response is always suspicion. To Ursk, not planting his axe in someone's skull is a courtesy. He should have to say "please" and "thank you", too!? Rubbish. Life is too brutal to give or expect niceties. It's not that he hates everyone; he just doesn't care about the worries of men. He is a slave and he has his purpose. Indulging the whims of free men and women and their notions of civilized society are no longer that purpose. As a consequence, he is slow to anger, but once unleashed, he gives everything to his rage. Little rouses his fury like the agents or machinations of the League. If he judges someone to be under the League's iron boot, he will give his life to protect them. It is the only way he will find freedom.
- 20 point buy
- Average of 105 wealth for a barbarian
- Archetype: Invulnerable Rager
- Stats formatted via HeroLab but I can put into whatever form you like.
- Trait: Against the Technic League
Quote:Ursk the Forever Chained
Male dwarf barbarian (invulnerable rager) 1 (Pathfinder RPG Advanced Player's Guide 79)
CN Medium humanoid (dwarf)
Hero Points 0
Init +2; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +4 (+6 to notice unusual stonework)
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Defense
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AC 18, touch 12, flat-footed 16 (+5 armor, +2 Dex, +1 shield)
hp 16 (1d12+4)
Fort +5, Ref +2, Will +0; +2 vs. poison, spells, and spell-like abilities
Defensive Abilities defensive training
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Offense
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Speed 30 ft.
Melee dagger +4 (1d4+3/19-20) or
. . dwarven waraxe +4 (1d10+3/×3)
Special Attacks hatred, rage (7 rounds/day)
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Statistics
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Str 17, Dex 14, Con 16, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 7
Base Atk +1; CMB +4; CMD 16 (20 vs. bull rush, 20 vs. trip)
Feats Raging Vitality[APG]
Traits against the technic league (weapons), dirty fighter
Skills Appraise +0 (+2 to assess nonmagical metals or gemstones), Climb +2, Intimidate +2, Perception +4 (+6 to notice unusual stonework), Survival +4; Racial Modifiers +2 Appraise to assess nonmagical metals or gemstones, +2 Perception to notice unusual stonework
Languages Common, Dwarven
SQ fast movement
Other Gear scale mail, light wooden shield, dagger, dwarven waraxe, backpack, belt pouch, blanket[APG], flint and steel, hemp rope (50 ft.), pot, soap, torch (10), trail rations (5), waterskin, 11 gp
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Special Abilities
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Darkvision (60 feet) You can see in the dark (black and white only).
Defensive Training +4 Gain a dodge bonus to AC vs. monsters of the Giant subtype.
Fast Movement +10 (Ex) +10 feet to speed, unless heavily loaded.
Greed +2 to Appraise to determine price of nonmagic goods with precious metals or gemstones.
Hatred +1 Gain a racial bonus to attacks vs. Goblinoids/Orcs.
Rage (7 rounds/day) (Ex) +4 Str, +6 Con, +2 to Will saves, -2 to AC when enraged.
Raging Vitality +2 CON while raging, Rage does not end if you become unconscious.
Stonecunning +2 +2 bonus to Perception vs. unusual stonework. Free check within 10 feet.
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