Scales of War
Mul Rageblood Barbarian
== Created Using Wizards of the Coast D&D Character Builder ==
Theseus “Ajax” Everyman, level 10
Build: Rageblood Barbarian
Feral Might Option: Rageblood Vigor
Born of Two Races Option: Human
Cormyr (General) (Cormyr (General) Benefit)
FINAL ABILITY SCORES
STR 20, CON 16, DEX 16, INT 8, WIS 13, CHA 10
STARTING ABILITY SCORES
STR 16, CON 14, DEX 14, INT 8, WIS 13, CHA 10
AC: 23 Fort: 26 Ref: 23 Will: 20
HP: 85 Surges: 12 Surge Value: 21
Athletics +15, Endurance +15, Insight +13, Perception +11
Acrobatics +7, Arcana +4, Bluff +5, Diplomacy +5, Dungeoneering +6, Heal +6, History +4, Intimidate +5, Nature +6, Religion +4, Stealth +7, Streetwise +7, Thievery +7
Basic Attack: Melee Basic Attack
Basic Attack: Ranged Basic Attack
Ironwrought Attack: Inevitable Strike
Mul Racial Power: Incredible Toughness
Barbarian Feature: Swift Charge
Barbarian Feature: Rage Strike
Barbarian Attack 1: Howling Strike
Barbarian Attack 1: Pressing Strike
Barbarian Attack 1: Vault the Fallen
Barbarian Attack 1: Life-Ending Strike
Barbarian Utility 2: Shrug It Off
Barbarian Attack 3: Brutal Slam
Barbarian Attack 5: Feral Rampage
Barbarian Utility 6: Run Rampant
Barbarian Attack 7: Curtain of Steel
Barbarian Attack 9: Wrath of the Storm
Barbarian Utility 10: Deny Death
Level 1: Weapon Proficiency (Gouge)
Level 2: Powerful Charge
Level 4: Battle Awareness
Level 6: Weapon Focus (Spear)
Level 6: Improved Defenses
Level 6: Improved Rageblood Vigor
Level 8: Spear Expertise
Level 8: Cunning Stalker
Level 10: Unstoppable Fury
Boots of Adept Charging x1
Horned Helm (heroic tier) x1
Iron Armbands of Power (heroic tier) x1
Bestial Hide Armor +1 x1
Belt of Lucky Strikes x1
Badge of the Berserker +3 x1
Vanguard Gouge +2 x1
Rain of Hammers Ki Focus +1
== End ==
He was born in War’s Rage, a massive labyrinth deep in the Damaran mountain range so named for being the site of perpetual battle between the numerous monstrous factions who inhabit it. All that he knows about his early life is that he was born on a battlefield, and discovered among the corpses of fallen warriors. Whoever discovered him knew this as a portent of a long and bloody future, and so his life was spared and he was taken as a slave.
The crucible that is War’s Rage provided ample opportunity to test this superstition, for once he was old enough to thrust a sharpened wooden stick he was let loose in near daily skirmishes and raids. By the time he was an adolescent he was already a formidable warrior who, when the need arose, could summon a near supernatural anger that would lend strength to his blows, and whose primal savagery could overwhelm his foes more practiced tactics. As a Mul, he was valued for his endurance and strength such that even when he was on the losing side of a battle he would be taken as a warrior slave. It mattered little to him, the only reality he knew was battle, and the only way to survive another day was to let its tides carry him.
Destined to be a dungeon denizen in search of a hero’s blade to defeat him, fate intervened during the Red Hand war when his band happened upon a legion of Red Hand troops who were traversing the Damaran mountain range via a section of War’s Rage. As the opposing forces mustered for combat, the Red Hand commander recognized him by reputation and shouted across the battlefield that if he could slay his way to the Red Hand line, he would be free to join them, and further enjoy in any spoils won in future battles. Such a refreshing bargain was too good to pass up, and so he cut his way to the front line, leading to a rout of his former captors.
The Red Hand was kind to him, relatively speaking, and through the 2 year campaign to traverse and pacify War’s Rage (which would become a vital troop supply line during the Red Hand War) they gave him bountiful spoils to ensure his loyalty.
As control of War’s Rage was tenuous at best, he was left in charge of eliminating threats to the supply-line from opportunistic monsters during the Red Hand campaign, and he was only called to the surface when the Order of the Phoenix was already well on its way to ruining the Red Hand machinations. The Mul only had one opportunity to fight in The Vale; on their way to attempt to regroup with the main horde after their disastrous assault on Brindol, the legion came across the vale’s druid circle and immediately attacked. They were met with fierce opposition from the vale army who arrived minutes later and was led by TOOP itself.
The Mul had just entered the fray when he spotted the grey-eyed commander who he knew by reputation. Cheered on by the horde around him, he closed in on Pradir and immediately summoned his rage. To his surprise, Pradir could match his primal fury with skilled swordsmanship. The Mul would certainly have been slain, but Pradir suddenly broke the attack to rescue a wounded druid. Jumping at the opportunity, the Mul raised his gouge to strike at Pradir’s vulnerable back only to discover that Pradir had led him into a trap and he was now standing on a protective ward that instantly turned him to stone. The legion that to this point had been counting on Pradir’s death to be the turning point in the battle, was promptly defeated.
Unknown to anyone at the time the ward was improperly inscribed and had a perverse effect when interacting with the Mul’s mixed race heritage. Although he had turned to stone, he had retained an awareness of his surroundings. And so the Mul served as a silent audience to the druid circle over the next 5 decades. With nothing else to do he observed the lessons of the druid’s circle and saw acts of kindness and compassion that were completely alien to him. He learned that the circle had named him Theseus, after the legendary hero from some lost age who had ventured into the labyrinth to slay some ungodly monster.
Theseus became a part of the lore of The Vale; the more superstitious townsfolk believed that telling him your secrets would ensure they’d never be discovered, comely lasses of age would dance suggestively in front of him as a rite of passage into womanhood, new members of the town guard would mock him and smack him in the crotch with a gauntlet to prove their bravery, and parents would tell naughty children that their crying would awaken him.
After nearly 5 decades in this imprisonment, Theseus’ luck finally changed when an elderly Pradir decided to rest a minute in Theseus’ shadow. While examining Theseus’s face Pradir suddenly realized that his expression had slightly changed. A review of the various representations of Theseus in art over the years (Theseus was a popular subject) revealed that he was indeed moving very slowly, and it was concluded that Theseus was very much aware of his surroundings.
At first this was terrible news; for the comely lasses of the Vale ceased their rite of passage, but Pradir would commission wizards to visit and see if they could free Theseus. Eventually it was determined that there was no way to reverse the process, but this did not stop Pradir from bringing in new mages. Pradir began to visit each night after the druid circle retired for the day to speak with the Theseus and about a range of subjects.
Eventually word of Theseus’s plight traveled far enough to reach a certain band of hobgoblins, who also learned of Pradir’s evening visits while spying on the Vale. The mages of the civilized lands never thought to employ the less sophisticated primal magics, and the hobgoblins suspected they could once again unleash the Mul upon their human foes, and that he would be a great help in their upcoming plans.
One evening when Pradir was lost thought while lecturing on some topic, Theseus saw the hobgoblins creep up, and recognized the Red-Hand emblem they wore on their armor. Later, Pradir would say that he saw a barely perceptible shudder in the statue that alerted him to trouble. While the hobgoblins descended on Pradir, their shaman reached Theseus and began working his infernal magics.
Pradir was hit with a disorienting attack and knocked to the ground beneath Theseus just as the shaman finished his spell.
While the civilized mages had mistakenly overlooked using primal magic, the hobgoblins mistakenly assumed Theseus would be on their side. Theseus completed the gouge thrust he had started decades earlier and promptly slew the shaman. The local town guard would arrive minutes later to find the massive Mul standing protectively over Pradir with a five hobgoblin corpses around him. Trails of blood leading into the forest would reveal that few severely wounded creatures had gotten away. And these survivors remembered this man long and long, and their memory was a bitter tree which long bore fruit (I stole this quote, but it’s badass).
Thereafter Theseus would become a member of Pradir’s household, and was trained by Pradir himself to add refinement to his savage tactics. He is well regarded by the townsfolk, who had already enjoyed the lore surrounding his petrified form (minus the few who had confessed to unspeakable crimes, who Theseus had dealt with in his way), and who have relied on his battle prowess when monsters threaten…