Brulgor the Legend of the Battlefield, Anathema to the Empire

Role

Chapter 1

As the lost duergar wandered from cruel act to cruel act, an overarching theme emerged -- a
morbid curiosity in the dealings of pain as a means to bring suffering death. A path without
inhibition, requiring strength and focused order to truly understand the path to subjugation.

Brulgor saw the signs of his twisted heart's pining. A gruesome hommage of corpses stacked in
morbid pose one day, a wretched collection of decaying body parts the next.. they all pointed
to the Dread Sculptor, Muuloc, and his Charnel Forge.

As the battles passed, Brulgor's focus shifted from the short-sighedness of each battle and more
towards a dark curiosity of the many ways to inflict pain and death. Once jovial, the battle-
hardened duergar found his heart blackening with bitterness and hatred, as his life led down a
path he knew would bring him freedom to explore all his morbid curiosities.

A seriousness of purpose overtook his life, as his active search for the Cult took place.

Role

Chapter 2

The luxury of the Empire's Palace still strong in Brulgor's mind, the duergar wandered Thera
unsure of his next actions. Enriched with his newfound freedoms, he found his days spent
raining cruel torment on those that called him enemy. With the dark-elf, Gistle, by his side,
Brulgor found his time spent ravaging the lands of other heroes, however he felt the emptiness
of existance and the loss of a former order from such short-term victories. He felt a twinge
of remorse at his loss of power from the Empire, and did not actively hunt them, even aiding
several as they vainly attempted to hunt him.

Perhaps the oddest reality to adjust to was the shift of his enemies. The Village that he once
covered with countless bodies no longer paid him heed, and he felt retiscent to engage in battle
the dark magi of the Fold, though wary still of any magic as all dark dwarves are.

These were bleak days for Brulgor the Anathema, wandering from battle to battle engrossed in his
passion for torment, and yet with no greater order or goal in sight. Surely the Gods must have
watched in dismay as such talent for pain was wasted on making others miserable with no other
benefit to the duergar.

So, then, passed the days of the lost wanderer.

Role

Chapter 3

Brulgor enlisted into the Imperial ranks of the Blade, rising slowly through brutal, blood-soaked
days. Favored by then Warmaster, Xoregh, he enjoyed the many excuses to subjugate those far weaker,
the elves and storm giants of the Fortress, the idealistic Village, and the dark mages of the Fold.

As the bloodied days turned into weeks and then years, Brulgor saw his stumbling block -- a slow
bureaocracy and politic that interrupted his simple passions. His fights turned from slow, painful
toyings with his enemies, to quick and subtle strikes for the benefit of the Empire's needs.

And so it came to pass, fed up with what then seemed like all work and no play, that Brulgor
took out his tormenting pleasures on the unsuspecting High Priest, much to the dismay of the Warmaster
and other Blades that watched in stunned silence as lash after lash by this Blade led to the
eventual demise of the High Priest.

Thus came and went the mark of Brulgor the Blade, replaced with the stigma of the Anathema.

Role

Chapter 4

Raised in the scream-filled tunnels of Aran'gird, Brulgor was raised in praise
of subjugation and torment to achieve desired results. His favorite hobbies
as a child included watching the happenings of the torture rooms and public
executions -- the suffering of others brought an especially warm, comforting
feeling to this sadistic duergar.

Seemingly destined as a slavetrader or executioner of some sort, Brulgor
felt he was meant for far greater things than serving Aran'gird, from stories
told of the vastness of the surface world. After trekking through the tunnels
of the Underdark, he found his way to the surface.

A bright, unforgiving sun greeted him as he made his way up the rocky paths to
Voralia's Tears. Blinded for the first few moments, his eyes never did quite
adjust to the sun's blaze, though they say that no duergar ever really grows
accustomed. He made his home in Arkham, a dark, bleak city where even the sun
does not dare blaze for too long.

Idealistic and god-fearing, Brulgor turned to a path of order and subjugation
to give his sadistic torments a rationale. He walks Thera raining down cruelty
and pain with the aid of a thick chain belt that doubles as a whip, a remnant
of fond days spent torturting the slaves and vermin of Aran'gird.

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