Golrath Grast the Champion of Battlefields

Role

Chapter 1

Born to a far-off shipping village, the path of Golrath Grast was truly forged in the heat of battle
between his village defenders and the Imperial horde. The waves of trained Imperial soldiers found
little resistance against the ill-equipped villagers and Golrath soon found himself cast into slavery.
For 100 years as the storm giants count, Golrath's life consisted of brick-laying foundation for the
ever expanding Imperial Lands. Knowing no true home or family, the young giant grew up with hatred
as his compass and imperviousness as his way of life. Drawing no faith or lessons from any, he toiled
and bled for his Imperial masters. Combat was a constant way of life - either against the drunk Imperials
that would torture him in the night for their amusement, or against his fellow slaves for the right
to hold onto the day's rations.

As the time passed, Golrath found himself accustomed to the ways of combat, finding strength in the
darkness to fight for his survival. Then a veteran to the toils of Imperial subjugation, he joined
a hastily-summoned contingent of slaves looking to escape their turmoil. A fortnight of planning
led up to the inevitable and unforgettable escape that would forge this adventurer's path from this
point on.

So it was that when darkness was at blackest pitch and the full moon was obscurred in shadow, the
makeshift resistance soldiers snuck from their bunkers to waylay the changing Imperial guard.
Mayhem and chaos came quickly, as screams quickly filled the night. Golrath particularly relished
the chaos and unpredictably - for surely a lifetime of order had proven tiring and stale for the
impatient storm giant. The guards were dead - the path to ecape now free.

The alarms rang with the last drawn breaths of the fallen guard. Golrath and his resistance ran for
the gates to freedom.. only to find a Centurion contingent closing in on them - the Balator sentry
staring from a ways out with a look of indifference or perhaps fear to assist the Imperial refugees.
With the permeable darkness parted only by the glowing armors of the Centurion elite, hope seemed
far from Golrath and the others.

And so as vivid as memories go, a memory Golrath will remember always, hope came in the form of
the Maran elite from the Fortress of Light. Heralded by a fearsome war call - the cry of the
Phoenix interspliced with the roar of the Jaguar, the darkness was parted by weapons made of
searing light. Swords drawn by the mighty warriors of the Fortress hummed with such righteous
fury as they sliced through the cowering Centurion force. Golrath would commit this to his memories,
taking up the sword as the penultimate harbinger of fury in his eyes.

So it came to pass that Golrath found himself freed of his former encumberance. The righteousness of
the storm giants burned through his very soul. The sickening order of his former captivity stricken
from his being, replaced with a thirst for the chaos of combat. A home with the Fortress of Light
the only path that he saw fitting as repayment for his freedom. The path of the warrior as his only
fitting profession - the way of the sword as the tool of his new craft.

So it seemed that Golrath Grast has begun his path in Thera.

Immortal Comments

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PK Statistics

Skill List

Skill List

Title History

PK Wins

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Leveling History

Timeline

Mob Deaths

Edges