Sea of Madness
Level 3 Stats: Medium Dragonborn Cleric 3 Init +1 Abs Str 17, Con 11, Dex 10, Int 11, Wis 16, Cha 14 Defences AC 17, Fort 14, Ref 11, Will 16 Move 5 Senses Passive Insight 19, Passive Perception 14 HP 33 Surges Per Day 7 Racial Features Dragonborn Fury, Draconic Heritage, Dragon Breath (Uses Str., Cold energy) Class Features Channel Divinity, Healer’s Lore, Healing Word, Ritual Casting Basic Attack Melee – Healer’s Morning Star +7 (1d10+5 when used in two hands) Skills Acrobatics 0, Arcana 1, Athletics 3, Bluff 3, Diplomacy 8, Dungeoneering 4, Endurance 0, Heal 9, History 3, Insight 9, Intimidate 5, Nature 4, Perception 4, Religion 6, Stealth 0, Streetwise 3, Thievery 0 At-Will Powers Priest’s Shield, Righteous Brand Encounter Powers Healing Strike, Split the Sky Daily Powers Avenging Flame Utility Powers Cure Light Wounds Rituals Gentle Repose, Make Whole Current Equipment +1 Medic’s Morning Star, Bracers of Respite, Chainmail, Ritual Book, and 430 gp
Preceded by the jangle of chains, Samuel stands proudly as he travels Northward to Winterhaven. Traveling alongside a group of traders, he is surprised that his skills have not been needed.
“Kurstwald, I thought you said you would need a strong hand for this trip, yet the roads have been clear for three days now.” growled the battle-thirsty Dragonborn. He desired nothing more than to ascend to glory as a great hero, and this simple escort mission would not push hi closer to his goal. Kurstwald, a Dwarven merchant had also been surprised about the lack of resistance.
“Normally, one of Iron Tooth’s bands would have been upon us. The nasty buggers have infected this area, and normally they cannot resist a plum like this one.” Kurstwald looked back at his laden wagon; this would be the first time in five years that he would make it to Winterhaven unmolested. He was glad to have Samuel along; he was a good storyteller and a fair fighter. In spite of having been on the road for ten days, Kurstwald’s son was still curious about the Dragonborn.
Janstwald studied the alien form of Samuel. His skin was deep, rich brown and his frame was towering and wide; To Janstwald, he seemed somewhat like the crossbreeding of a Dwarf and Dragon.
“Tell me about where you came from again.” asked Janstwald, ever curious about the world outside of the Dwarven mines.
“They call it Geldsheim, the cut-off land. It is a large island to the South where my small clan calls home. They settled it nearly two centuries ago, liberating the land from the tyranny of a vile red dragon. They built a temple to the Platinum Lord to commemorate their victory; the skeleton of the dragon was preserved in a chapel within the great cathedral. Even now, the bones of the monster are still warm to the touch.” said Samuel, reflecting on the last time he visited his home.
Samuel was devoted to his family, but did not have the desire to found one for himself, at least not then. This created much strife in his relationship with his mother and father. In order to escape their constant attempts at getting him wed, he went to study the way of the cleric. Despite the fulfillment he felt through his devotions, Samuel found that he had a wanderlust that would not be quenched; his need to see the world and ascend to greatness often distracted him from his studies at the great cathedral’s small academy. The high priest had suggested that a cloistered life was not fitting for such an energetic youngster, and suggested that he travel the circumference of the world. Samuel, longing to get away from Geldshiem, took the first boat that was heading to the mainland.
He traveled Northward, doing good and preaching the way of Bahamut as he went. Strength in your arms, truth on your tongue, and honor in your actions. was how he ended each of his sermons. They were the words that Bahamut had given him during one of his meditations, and they had become his mantra. It was during these early travels that he had first heard of Orcus and the cult devoted to the Demon lord. The cult stood against many of Samuel’s beliefs, and surely, he found himself stamping out their hidden sanctuaries as he roamed.
“Kobold!” yelled Kurstwald. Janstwald leapt from the wagon, brandishing a throwing axe.
“Hold your hand, boy.” ordered Samuel, snapped out of his nostalgia. He looked at the battered creature; covered in dark bruises and angry, red scars, this was no scout. Samuel’s deduction was verified by the frightened look on the pathetic creature’s face.
“No, no! Please no! Too much, too much!” said the kobold, trying to limp away.
“Please, stop. I can help you.” said Samuel. The kobold yielded, sitting on the ground. Saying a prayer, Samuel closed the kobold’s grievous wounds by channeling his god’s power.
“Don’t waste your pity on that thing!” muttered Kurstwald, “If you save it today, it will return tomorrow, probably with Iron Tooth.”
“You can go on if you wish, but this creature needs my pity.” said Samuel. He assured the kobold of his safety and urged him to tell of Iron Tooth’s movements. Through the kobold, he learned that Iron Tooth had been helping cultists devoted to Orcus. He also learned of Iron Tooth’s untimely demise. At the end of the kobold’s story, he offered to take the small creature back North.
“No! Never. I ran, and I will not return, not ever!” and with that, the kobold scampered off. The Dwarves watched disapprovingly as the small beast disappeared into the brush.
“Are you certain that was wise?” asked Kurstwald.
“As certain as I can be. The kobold was frightened and mortally wounded, and, without allies, will not likely survive on its own despite my healing. I have managed to learn something of value, and it is only fair to trade something for it.” The band traveled on to Winterhaven, hearing the stories of the Shadowfell Six and their conflicts with ravenous undead and cultists. He resolved to find the Shadowfell Six and help them to find victory.