Role

Chapter 2

Crippled and ashamed, Zoraba was forced through the maw of the
Wastelands, battling both the natural perils of the ravenous lands and
the enfeebling wounds that tore him from his prime and defiled his pride.
He grunted with resignation and determination as he grappled with the
idea of being forced into embracing spirituality, something that he had
traditionally despised. Priding himself in his physical attributes and
combat prowess alone, he shuttered at the thought of relying on the
divine, but alas... with a shield bound to his arm with scorched leather
and the haft of his axe slipping from his wanting grasp, it was clear
that he would never retain his martial abilities through his physical
strength alone.

And so, he did what he must to return to the front lines... He turned to
the divine, choosing faith and war over his own pride.

The savage God Jormyr had claimed the caverns to the south, imbued with
strife and turmoil, the para-elements of his cavern bubbled, boiled and
steamed in their representation of eternal strife and served as a beacon
to those that represent the same. Yet, something was amiss when he
entered such place of reverence only to be greeted with a cold slab of
uniformity. No strife... No conflict.... No Jormyr.

Deserted by the father of his ancestors, Zoraba closed his eyes with the
sudden realization that he would be forced to seek his reparations beyond
the borders of his homeland where he was about to discover a whole new
realm of warfare and conflict as he became the first in many generations
to go beyond the mountains.