|
Home |
Fatso Fjalar
|
|||
|
Backstory Fatso arrived in the world at quite a peculiar time. Just as malevolent armies of Calastia had been defeated, the windy canyons of Ontenazu fell into a state of concord. The long periods of little threat meant that Fatsos’ father could take the little dwarf to his watches with him; after all it had been quite a few years since anyone of ill intent strode through the permanently open gates of Ontenazu. These times were valued greatly by both father and son. They would often share stories of great Dwarven warriors, wrestled and crafted models of great war-hammers. As time passed, Fatsos’ interest swayed from his father to a beautiful young human girl by the name of Lotharia. She was being trained as a wind-walker, a guide within the treacherous canyons (this was quite a revered position within the community). Needless to say, Fatso was smitten and would frequently accompany Lotharia on her daily training walks into the eastern canyons, however treacherous and unknown. This company greatly improved Fatsos’ clumsy movements and greatly sharpened his mind. On one such walk when Fatso was trailing a good three hundred yards behind the nimble girl (this he thought was quite an accomplishment) when the roaring winds changed direction several times and Fatso fell into the dark abyss. In the darkness, beyond his fear, the young dwarf heard a voice "It’s time young one, the prophet has called" When Fatso finally opened his eyes he was lying on the spiralling canyon path, but Lotharia was long out of sight. Standing above him was a human tall and wise holding a knotted wooden staff. Frightened, Fatso sprung to his feet and ran home as fast as his small legs would take him, his forehead aching, a trickle of blood running into his eyes. The next morning, the young dwarf lay in his bed contemplating what had happened, and indeed why Lotharia hadn’t come back for him. Next to him lay a prepared breakfast, on the far side a bread roll, still steaming with freshness. From his prone position, Fatso tried to reach it. When his hand fell short a few inches he sighed and closed his eyes. He retracted his hand when his newly scarred forehead began to ache, he found the roll in his palm. This was the dwarfs first experience of his "gift". Fatso originally believed that his abilities had their roots with the earth mother - Denev - but study over the next few years revealed it was an arcane gift. He still pays respect to Denev however as he believes it was her that ordered the mysterious druid to his aid). By the age of thirty-five Fatso was quite a conflicted being, thinking that a dwarf such as himself would be considered a half-caste within both the wizarding and dwarven communities of Ontenazu he left, on a quest for answers and acceptance. Goals and Ambitions To uncover the origins and reasons for his "gift" Likes Bread, steaming with freshness. Dislikes People discrediting his intelligence due to his appearance. DM Addition In his travels to Mullis Town, across the vast lands of Ghelspad, Fatso has heard many a great story. From the most evil of denizens that seek to restore the Titans to the greatest of heroes who stand against such foes. He has heard tales of steadfast dwarves in Burok Torn who stand strong against the Calastian armies and of the mysterious city of Hollowfaust where it is said, the undead mingle with the living as if it be the norm. He has heard tales of the Veshian Vigilants that Patrol the plains of Lede and listened to accounts of villages destroyed by hordes of Vangal's Horsemen. It is a strange and uneasy dichotomy. This world where all gods, even the most evil, are respected for their defeat of the Titans. It is the conundrum of a land scarred by immortal war. What path is there for Fatso?. Many tales of heroes told of the Gold Knights - Paladins of healing and protection. Other tales tell rumours of the Rune Masters - Burok Torn's greatest wizards and further still, the High Astrologers who draw their power from the heavens themselves. |
