Norhm the Master of Offense

Skill List

Role

Chapter 6

Dwarves have long been known as proud and sturdy folk. Theirs is a
culture steeped heavily in tradition, mistrusting change and taking
comfort in physical and spiritual strength. Free spirits are few and
far between amongst dwarves, thanks to a society based largely on
loyalty and stability.

Norhm, however, was born and raised far from the land of the dwarves.
His mother, Iaro, left the mountains when she became pregnant with
Norhm. A fiercely independent woman, she refused to marry Norhm's
father and chose instead to raise her child in Galadon. She worked
for a lumber company throughout his childhood, leaving Norhm under the
care of an Innkeeper who had taken a shine to the pair. The lumber
business at the time was both very profitable and very destructive, so
Iaro often found herself on security detail, on the guard for guerilla
attacks from disgruntled locals. The combination of lumberjack and
security positions served as ideal on-the-job training in a variety of
tools and weaponry, including axes and spears. Iaro quickly became
known as a most capable worker, a highly valuable asset to the
company. It wasn't long before Norhm was old enough to join her in the
camp, working full time in the kitchens.
It's often said that camp food cooked over an open fire is the best
food in the world. The food at the lumber camp certainly lived up to
this illustrious reputation. Packaged goods, spice, and even fresh
fruits and vegetables were sihpped directly from Galadon, sometimes in
a matter of hours. In addition to these supplies, the Weald offered
fresh fish and a virtually inexhaustible supply of game, large and
small. The business being lucrative, the company could afford to feed
their relatively small (but hungry) workforce well. It was under these
most favorable conditions that Norhm learned to cook; working his way
up from peeling potatos to preparing juicy roasts and hearty stews.

Role

Chapter 5

Iaro and Norhm made a decent living together at the camp for several
years. It was an optimistic time; the lumber company had settled most
of its disputes with the indigenous peoples of the Weald and was
enjoying a relative, albeit uneasy period of peace. Norhm grew fast
and hearty, and before he was very old began taking his turn with the
night watch.

The night watch was a fairly casual militia. Weapons were available,
but most of the lumberjacks had their own. Often, hatchets and axes
served as well as weapons at night as they did as tools during the
day. Training was minimal, consisting primarily of sparring in the
evening. Still, Norhm was proud and eager to do his part, and found
himself sitting around a campfire on the river's edge three nights a
week, listening to Veteran's tales, whittling, snacking on deer
jerky, and drinking.

The night watch was comprised of a variety of characters. Some were
hired on as full-time security, while others were simply splitting
their time between the night watch and their day duties. Not a man
among them had ever been known as a hero, and none of them had any
formal training in the arts of combat. And although most of them could
easily hold their own against most things the Weald had to offer, none
of them were prepared for any real evil, a fact that would become most
apparent for Norhm not three weeks after he joined the watch.

Among the night watchmen there was an older man, a dark-skinned and
frail human who, in a former life, had been a witch doctor of sorts in
parts of Thera unknown. His name was Alorhamael. One of the skills
associated with his former profession was the art of making marks in
one's skin. He had been with the company for quite some time,
probably long past his true usefulness, but was kept around almost
exclusively for this task. He would only work by firelight, which
meant that night watchmen in specific were particularly well
decorated. Norhm himself had become fascinated with the process and
had already acquired a fairly large collection of these decorations.
It might even be said that these tattoos were an important part of
coming of age for Norhm, as within them he experimented with world
views and ideas of good and evil likely picked up from tales told
around the camp of the great battles of Thera.

In fact, around the campfire, Alorhamael often accompanied his tattoo
work with tales, working on as many as three pieces a night, with a
different tale for each. It was an informal night watch ritual, and
combined with beer made for an intense atmosphere of camaraderie. In
fact, this is exactly how the watch was occupied on the night the camp
burned down.

Role

Chapter 4

Norhm awoke to darkness and pain. As he slowly recovered his
consciousness, he became aware of dozens of other bodies around him,
packed like fish in a crate, a hot, moving, moaning mass. He
could hear mumbling, and he raised his voice to join them, calling out
names. Alorhamael, Norman, Daniel, Haj, Mother, Mother. Eventually,
the dark voice of Alorhamael whispered back from just a few feet away.

"I'm here."
"Mael! What's 'appened, mate? Are you alrigh'?"
"We're all captives, mate."
"Aye, mate. But where? How?"
"They burned the camp. Killed your mother."

His head cleared instantly, and he was filled with rage. Bound hand
and foot, he began to crawl through and around the bodies. He became
conscious of a swaying, and he knew, instinctively, that they were on
a boat. As he attempted to navigate the darkness, he found the curved
wall of the hull. Carefully pushing the other living creatures around
him (gods know what they were; they were wet and moving and hot and
mostly unconscious) he managed to get his feet under him. He stood up
slowly, fighting back a thousand new pains and t he swarming nausea
that directly precedes unconsciousness.

Just then, a blinding light opened just above his head, and he was
sprayed with water and a thousand smells. Black arms thrust through
the opening and wrapped around him, pulling him through the hole and
dropping him onto the wet, salty, half-rotten wooden deck. He roared
in protest, a meaningless sound rewarded only by a sharp strike to his
head, blasting him into darkness yet again.

This time he awoke to water in his face and a vicious shaking. He was
naked but for a loincloth. His rope bindings were being replaced with
metal shackles, and he became instantly aware of the bench he sat on
and the oar beating him in the chest. In the next instant he became
aware of his captor's attempts to wrap the chain around the oar, and
he was again overcome with rage. Like lightning his strength returned, and
he lashed out at the old man's side with his elbow. His ribs cracked
audibly Norhm was on his feet, bringing both fists down on the
man's head, killing him instantly.

Role

Chapter 3

It was a fairly large ship, with a single massive mast. They were
about midship, and it seemed as though there were two other, higher
decks from which the crew piloted. The sails were black, and the wood
stained dark with pitch and tar. It was raining, and the boards were
slick, quickly becoming stained with the dead man's blood. He couldn't
see the ocean from his position; the walls of the oar pit were too
high, but it seemed to Norhm that a ship as large as this could only sail on an ocean.

There were three more guards on the deck, and many more men above and
below them. Clubs drawn, the men made their way carefully across the
rain-slick boards. Just as the thought was beginning to come to Norhm
that his situation was hopeless, another surge of energy ripped
through his gut and into his heart and lungs. Letting loose another
mighty roar he seized the chains the dead man had been attempting to
bind him with and dragged them into the aisle. Throughout all of this,
the slaves never stopped rowing, the oars never stopped moving. He
began to swing the chains above his head, glaring down his captors.

Norhm was already exhausted, having been beaten numerous times and
spent a great deal of time unconscious. He was little more than a
caged and desperate animal, driven purely by rage, grief, and
adrenaline. Time began to stretch, and it seemed as though the men bearing down on him would never arrive.

It was at this moment that a great, white bolt of lightning ripped
from the heavens, striking the ship's mast. The force of the strike
ripped through the entire ship, splitting in two with unnatural
ferocity. Every man on board was plunged into the cold waters of the
ocean within a matter of seconds, as the ship splintered and sank.

Role

Chapter 2

As Norhm struggled to keep his head above the water in an
overwhelmingly hostile ocean, the world gradually became quieter. He
was surprised to discover that the roar of the ocean and the cries of
the survivors and the cold of the water were fading away. It was
replaced with an eerie calm, and Norhm found that for the first time
since that night in the camp he could think clearly.

His mother had raised him with stores of his noble dwarvish heritage,
and from these stories he'd been able to muster a limited knowledge of
Thera's pantheon. The names and faces of famed gods and goddesses past
floated through his mind, some fearsome, some kind, and all strong and
sincere. As he began to slip into unconsciousness, Norhm found himself
praying, for the first time in his life, for salvation.

Role

Chapter 1

When he awoke again, he was resting in a warm bed. The sun was
shining, his entire body hurt. He was dimly aware of a massive man
hunched in the corner of the room.

The man introduced himself as a paladin, and Norhm recognized him as a
cloud giant. He was a Maran, and explained that the ship Norhm had
been held captive aboard was infamous for its participation in the
slave trade. It was headed south, and was due to make port in Seantryn
Modan. The freak lightning bolt was the will of the Gods of the Light,
and Norhm owed his life to them. He was to rest: a friend would take
care of him, and when he was well enough, they would return him to
Galadon to enroll him in the Warrior's Guild.

He learned he was in a lighthouse belonging to an elderly evlish
priestess named Elothien. In her younger years, she also had been a
paladin, fighting in the great wars against the darkness. Now she was
serving as a waystation for friends of the Light. He learned that the
war against darkness was on-going and fought on many fronts, and
that the Fortress was sworn to protect the Light and purge the
darkness.

Throughout the next several weeks, as Elothien nursed Norhm back to
health, she taught him about the various forces in the world, many of
which Norhm had thought existed only in tales. When she was away, she
gave him books to read about history, magic, nature, philosophy, and
religion. R eading came slowly to him, as he'd never had much occasion
to read in his life, but he enjoyed the books nonetheless. Through
Elothien's kindness, and the healing balm of knowledge, he was able to
come to terms with the tragedies he had endured. He stayed at the
lighthouse for several months after he had regained his health,
reading Elothien's books nad helping to maintain the lighthouse.

When the time came for Norhm to leave, he did so quietly. Packing a
haversack full of some bare essentials, he thanked Elothien for her
kindness and asked her how he could repay her.

Elothien smiled softly at him and said, "Go with the Light, Norhm.
The gods have blessed you with life; waste it not."

Immortal Comments

PK Gank-O-Meter

PK Statistics

Skill List

Title History

PK Wins

PK Deaths

Leveling History

Timeline

Mob Deaths

Edges