Doban the Legend of the Battlefield, the Belligerent Carceral, Branded of the Beast

Role

Chapter 7

It had been years since Doban had seen the Drow Weaponsmaster who enlisted his help
and gave him the Beast Brand in return. He was told at the time that the mark would let
him be known to the drow's spies and that they required his help with something. Part of
the agreement had been that the drow would find him a place among the Battleragers in
return for an unspecified task to be completed. In all honesty, Doban wasn't even entirely
certain the drow delivered on their part of the agreement in placing him in the Village as
the Warlord Thror gave Doban a hut after a fierce battle with the drow. Perhaps, the drow
were more cunning than he had thought. Perhaps, that battle was their plan to get Doban
into the Village. Who could say except for the drow? Doban often wondered if they still
had interest in him. Would they arrive some day out of nowhere demanding services of
Doban? Would Doban be able or willing to perform?

Doban had learned much during the years about this prophecy that surrounds the
Commander. So much that Doban had begun to formulate theories of his own. Theories
drawn from things like all the talk about prisons. Zrakkna seemed to prefer to call the
Scions 'prison men'. Prisons were even meshed in with his own past and reputation.
More importantly, Doban remembered during his first years in the Village seeing the
goddess Baerinika in the sky guarding Zurcon's prison. It seemed very possible to Doban
that many of these events of prophecy surrounded an attempt to free Zurcon. He knew
that the Eye sought his blood, blood he had taken. How Doban hated that Scion
Chancellor. A powerful mage, certainly. One Doban was determined to destroy before it
was all over. The last time they battled he had come terribly close to that Victory only to
fall short with the Chancellor barely clinging to life. That was a most painful defeat, one
Doban hoped to avenge.

Role

Chapter 6

Much has happened in the past years of Doban's life. He is making that strive to the
pinnacle in his guild. Although, it seems difficult at times, as outside of the Village, he
really has no allies. This situation hasn't deterred his spirits any, only made him more
resolute in succeeding. Each day in Doban's limited life is one where he learns and grows
stronger. He often considers many of his past battles. Some of them were glorious
victories, while others were humiliating defeats. The defeats were hard to swallow as
many of them were the result of foolish mistakes on Doban's part. He still remembers the
ill-fated battle against the Imperials that drew the ire of nearly all the Village Warlords.
How embarrassing. It seems to Doban that a good portion of these mistakes were rooted
in the underestimating of his opponents and his overconfidence in his ability to win the
battles using brute strength. Ashamedly, Doban admits to himself that this is really no
way to make the best of the last march he is on. Time is short for him and mistakes are
costly. He has resolved to fight more appropriately to the student of war that he is.

Doban has also taken notice that Daevryn is lord over destruction, a sign he is intimately
familiar with. Doban has decided that he might learn something from this god and he
decided to seek him out. Perhaps, Daevryn even knows the nature of the magic that will
ultimately destroy him.

The Village is now under strong leadership. Doban is pleased to see this. He hopes that
now the Village will grow mighty in the years to come. He has known Ghrimriddor since
his young days, as they both bare unique marks and share a kinship because of that.
Doban respects the dwarf and is confident in his ability to lead the Village. Doban also
has respect for Flaaayin, the new Drillmaster. His experience with the thief is that he is
quite outspoken about using tactics that lead to victory, a quality necessary for a
Drillmaster. The only upsetting thing to Doban about his appointment is that it seems to
have caused other highly regarded Villagers to leave the Village because of it. This is
disconcerting because leaders need to command respect, and apparently some others
didn't share Doban's respect for the thief. Doban himself witnessed the mighty giant
Renor take his own life because of it. Sadly though, Doban must admit, the fact that these
Villagers would take such extreme action as the result of this appointment only shows
their true colors. As perhaps they were not totally committed to this cause.

Role

Chapter 5

The meeting with the Drow Weaponsmaster changed many things for Doban. He had no
idea why the Weaponsmaster had approached him. Apparently, he had been watching
him for years. The Weaponsmaster had a task for him, and essentially, made Doban an
offer he couldn't refuse. Doban wasn't sure what this task was, but, it had something to
do with the Village of the Battleragers, as the Weaponsmaster assured Doban he would
gain him entrance. As part of this agreement, the Weaponsmaster sent his men to brand
Doban with the mark of the beast. Unfortunately, for Doban, he sent the drow soldier that
had angered Doban who he nearly killed him by putting poison on the brand. Thankfully,
another drow soldier saw it in his best interest to ensure Doban lived.

Since receiving the brand Doban has received an incredible amount of attention from
those who noticed it. Apparently, many of these people seemed to know what it meant,
which is odd because Doban had no idea what it meant. Well, he knew what the
Weaponsmaster had told him, which was it was a mark for his spies to identify him with.
Many others seemed to think as it had something to do with the prophecy that had spread
like wildfire through every village and city inn across three continents. It was difficult,
because these men all wanted to talk about it, and Doban was sworn to secrecy to the
Weaponsmaster about it. He decided it was in his best interest not to break his word with
the Weaponsmaster and so he told these inquiring souls as little as possible. Thankfully,
most people had such a hard time understanding Doban that he probably could have told
them everything and they'd have no idea what he said.

Since then, Doban's life had been rather chaotic. He didn't know what he was to do. Wait
on the next meeting for the Weaponsmaster? Doban decided he didn't have much choice
but to continue living as he had planned. He trained hard in the hopes of joining the
Village and destroying what magic he could. Although, when it came time, Doban
hesitated about swearing his pledge to the Village. He was unsure of how the Drow
Weaponsmaster would react to it, since he had promised to gain him entrance and it
might disrupt his plans. In the end, Doban decided to swear the oath because he really
didn't know all that much about the Weaponsmaster and he wasn't sure that he could
even trust him.

Skill List

Role

Chapter 4

Doban leaned against the wall in the guildhall in Seantryn Modan and wiped sweat off of
his face with a rag. The guild was empty today, as it often was in this city as most
warriors traveled north after joining the guild to the more populous continent. The
Guildmaster had just finished giving his last lesson on the art of pummeling. Doban
definitely needed some practice, but, he was taking a liking to this fighting style. As he
sat there taking a break after the rigorous training, he began to think on the events that
have occurred recently. It seemed rare that he had time to himself like this these days,
ever since encountering the Drow Weaponsmaster.

What a day that was. Doban had been in the world for sometime by then. He had learned
quite a bit about the world through the academy and the guild. He learned about the
Village of the Battleragers, and knowing what he must do by way of magic, he decided
that would be a good place to spend what days he had left. This decision fueled him to
train lots and train hard. If he was going on the last march, he would be as prepared as he
could.

Role

Chapter 3

Years had passed and Doban had grown into an adolescent minotaur. He had grown to
hate the clumsy mass of flesh that kept him prisoner and he had grown to hate the magic
the man used on him. The fat mage had told him often that he was born out of magic and
eventually, he would die from it as well. Constantly, he had been told that his life was
nothing and that the magic would one day serve its purpose in him and destroy him.
Doban had been told this so often that he had come to believe it in his heart. He was not
scared to die, in fact, sometimes he wished it would happen, so that he no longer would
suffer at the hands of the fat man. One could say that it was only his desire for revenge on
the fat bastard that kept him living. How he hated that man and the cursed magic that kept
him enslaved. Doban often fantasized about destroying him, about ripping him limb from
limb, but, that opportunity never presented itself. That is, until one day when an idea
occurred to Doban.

Doban wasn't the sharpest sword on the rack, but, he did remember much and he was
able to use that knowledge for his benefit. Some might even call that clever. It was one
such piece of information that gave Doban an idea that might help him have his revenge
on the continent sized monstrosity. Plus, Doban reasoned. If it didn't work, he might die
and then be free of his misery.

Doban knew that in order to have his revenge he would have to get the mage distracted
enough to not be able to use his magic and he thought he knew how to do this. Patiently,
he waited for the time to present itself and finally it did. Doban had been brought into the
mage's laboratory to be a test subject for some new spell. The fat man was making
preparations and went into a storage closet to gather some ingredients to use in his
spelling. When the man waddled into the closet Doban slid a stool in front of the door.
The fat mage with his hands full of random items from the closet never saw the stool as
he came back out of the closet and tripped over it, crashing to the ground with the effect
of a small earthquake. Seizing the moment, Doban pounced on the fat man angrily
pounding the lump of flesh with his fists and goring him with his horns! Rage filled
Doban and he felt more alive than he ever had during the moments he beat on the
helpless mage. Doban continued to pound well after the man died, reveling in the sloppy,
sloshing sounds of his fists and horns mashing the flesh.

Doban rose, bloody. He was free. Purpose suddenly filled his heart as he had never
known it before. It had felt so good to destroy this man and his magic. He already
believed he was a dead man walking, and with nothing to lose, that made him dangerous.
Death was on his coming for him. He accepted that. He decided would be that soldier
marching dutifully to certain death knowing the only thing he could do was to take as
many of his enemies with him.

Role

Chapter 2

whee! whee! whee! The child minotaur sat chained in his cell and grimaced as he heard
that hated noise begin to become louder outside his cell. WHEE! WHEE! WHEE! That
hated noise was the sound of his keeper wheezing out of breath as he descended the stairs
into the level where the cells were located. The noise didn't scare him as he naturally
wasn't able to know fear, but, it was awful. It heralded the coming of the fat mess of a
man who kept prisoner of him. The man who thought himself master over the child and
used dark sorcery to keep him enslaved and doing his bidding. The child knew the man's
magic was powerful and it had always prevented him from turning on the gelatinous turd
or trying to escape.

WHEE! WHEE! WHEE! The cell door opened and the fat mage placed a chair in front of
the cell door and lowered his enormous blob of a rear into the chair. Taking a few
moments to catch his breath so he could speak without being interrupted by another
wheeze the mage finally said while dabbing sweat from his forehead, 'It is time to give
you a name, slave. I think I will call you Toban. Yes, Toban it is. Do you understand?
That is your name. You are to answer to it whenever I call. Now say it back to me.'

The child minotaur looked at him curiously as he did not expect this. He was anticipating
more of the usual and painful tests of foul magic or manual labor. The child opened his
mouth and tried to repeat the name 'Do-ba-n'. This verbal butchery caused the mage to
begin to laugh hysterically. 'He can't even say it!!!' the fat man wailed in laughter. He
threw his head back into the air as his laughter grew louder and harder. Unfortunately for
him, this sudden movement of his head was enough to unsettle his massive bulk and
make his chair tip backwards and crash to the ground! Embarrassed and angry the fat
man began to flop around on the ground like a turtle on its back, trying to turn to his
stomach so that he could rise. After a few moments of frantic fish-out-of-water-like
flopping he finally managed to do so and snorted at Doban before slamming his cell door
shut. Doban smiled in amusement after the door slammed closed. The man was powerful,
but, he was also very clumsy. That was something Doban would remember.

Role

Chapter 1

Blood. Blood was everywhere. The floor. The table. The walls. It was even spattered on
his robes, the obese mage noted with amusement. No, blood on his robes normally didn't
amuse him, it was the circumstances that caused the blood to be on his robes that amused
him. He certainly was something great, wasn't he? He giggled with pleasure as he felt the
surge of adrenaline course through him as he marveled at the thought of what a powerful
wizard he had become. He was so excited over his new creation he nearly jumped in the
air and yelled 'WOOOHOOO!!!!' To be honest, he probably would have if his fat ass
actually could jump.

A greedy, wicked smile crossed his lips as the ton-o-mage began to walk across the room
toward the source of all the blood. A woman, well, now a dead woman, and also that
source of the blood, lay crookedly on a table at the far end of the room with his creation
moving slightly between her legs. His creation of his dark sorcery, an infant mino -
THUMP!!! 'AWWWWWW!!! GODS BE DAMNED!!!! CURSE IT ALL!!!! DEMON-
LOVING-ORC-HUMPING!!!' The fat mage screamed every curse he knew at the top of
his voice as he toppled like a crumbling tower to the ground in agony grabbing for his
foot. He had stubbed his toe. Again. Yes, he maybe powerful in magic, but, he was still a
klutz. Some things never change.

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