Jikahl the Legend of the Battlefield, Bully of Barkeeps

Skill List

Role

Chapter 8

A wardrum echoes and beats violently as torches are lit and
a dwarven chant of battle begins to hum in the air. From the
tiny svirfnebli who appear as little more than boulders armed
with axes, to valiant swordsmen of arial and human descent,
and monstrous giants hefting man-sized swords and battleaxes
crowd around a shrine composed entirely of bone, flesh, and
aged sinew.

Standing before a throne built from thousands of skulls is
an lean man garbed in black dress, a slender sword and jagged
dagger grasped in hand. He speaks in a calm and assuring voice,
his gaze sweeping over the greatest warriors in Thera with a
measure of pride and satisfaction.

He speaks to them swiftly on the new laws of the Village, on
a promise of strength and a glorious turn to a war which at
times is in turmoil and despair. He tells them of the ancient
tradition of the Circle of Rites, a dueling ground for settling
disputes in blood and how it will be used more regularly.

All the BattleRagers. Berserkers, Scouts, and Defenders watch
with firm diligence, saying not a thing as they hear the keen
words of the new Commander Syther.

"To War" Commander Syther shouts. His men follow in unison,
moving in a frenzied pace to the east, with raised torches,
they signal a new era in the War on the Arcane under the
leadership of Syther.

Jikahl ponders to himself while moving with the berserkers,
"If nothing has changed and parity is not claimed. I will
kill this Commander myself. Honor and Strength and Courage
will be restored and our men will be the greatest warriors
in Thera."

Role

Chapter 7

Despite fighting as among the best of the BattleRagers present in the
Rites of War, Jikahl Bloodmaw was lacking in the knowledge required to
effectively lead the BattleRagers into a new era. In this small defeat
he feels no great loss, knowing that he did all that he possibly could
to keep his Honor and prove himself as among the fiercest of the Berserker
caste. Striding forward now, his only desire is to fufill himself as a
legendary warrior on the battlefield and one worthy of the title of being
called Honorbound.

He is happy that Commander Syther has been chosen over the one called
Trunlak.

Role

Chapter 6

A massive giant stands before an altar composed of solid
granite, a belt affixed with the severed skulls of mages
clasped in his bear-like paw of a hand. He tosses it to
the ground before a series of wailing cries fill the air,
and in a bursting gout of black flame appears the mythical
form of the Warlord Borkahd Kahn'ku.

Leaning on an immense halberd, the black-skinned form of
Borkahd parts a wicked grin that exposes broken teeth,
speaking in a gutteral rumble, "You... You're that insect
that earned my attention. Aren't you?"

The stoic cloud giant offers only a silent nod of his head
before adding, "I am. Jikahl Bloodmaw of the Honorbound."

The Warlord issues a hideous fit of laughter and jerks a
thumb at Jikahl, "I know why you're here. I give you space
to build hut. But you mind self...since remind me of another,
I will be twice as hard on you. Make mistake, will remove
skin from body and wear it as I...do things to you.
Understands?'

Grunting through his nostrils, Jikahl responds with a nod
and a slam of his fist to his left breast.

Borkahd adds, "Other Lords maybe feel different, not know.
But you will look for reason follow parity even if our home
attacked. If only take one warrior to kill two pathetic mage,
only one warrior fights. Not take anything from corpses -you-
not made. If you made the corpse, you have right to spoils of
war. Only take what need...to take more shows weakness, shows
fear of enemy. You understand, insect?"

"I do. I will not fail the Stars, Warlord Kahn'Ku" Jikahl
responds.

"Good. Failure not acceptable. Now go, carve Thera red with
blood of Magi." Borkahd says before grinding into the skull
of Jikahl the ancient memories of his ancestors. Filling him
with the frothing lust for battle of a true berserker.

Role

Chapter 5

"What is ye fear lad?" Thrym asks.

"I.. I fear failure, Drillmaster Thrym, I fear witnessing
other tribes like my own be destroyed at the hands of the
Arcane." Jikahl responds sternly.

"Do ye even know why yer bloody tribe fell?" Thrym responds
with a snort.

"We had become little more than savages, seeking Wisdom
from a Deity which knows only Destruction and Bloodlust.
It was savagery and failing to walk as their ancestors
did that drove my people to demise. As my father used
to say, it was in the Stars." Jikhal responds again in
a firm manner.

"Stars... now tha' be somethin' I ain' 'ear in quite
sometime, of this the' can be no mistakin'. Them say
the Wisest of all the Lords of Battle be making some
in the image of the Stars he be cherishin' most. I ain'
know lad, somethin' 'bout ye an' ye father. Always sat
right with me. An' ye are right, it were yer peoples
recklessness, they lack of heritage an' pride tha' did
cast them into doom." Thrym tugs at his braided beard
with a hoarse rumble of laughter.

"Alright boy. That's enough fer today. On yer way into
tha' fields, I know it's only been a few days, but I wan'
yer leadin' this session. Sound right to you" Thrym asks.

The giant responds with a firm salute and a stiff nod
before turning and stepping out of the Office, closing
the door behind him.

Role

Chapter 4

1) Always give quarter to an enemy who beseeches it who is
deserving of it.

2) Honor must be in every facet of life, to dishonor one
through use of false or dishonest words is unacceptable.

3) Never strip a foe or take what isn't needed or is not
earned by your own hand.

4) Honor each of the Gods as they fuel and watch over the
delicate Balance which is Thera.

5) Honor has no place in mass Warfare. If a situation such
as a raid surfaces and the offensive or defensive party is
well-armed and of an immediate threat, all quarter and
thoughts of it can be disregarded if required.

6) Quarter can only be disregarded in times of mass Warfare,
against creatures of an extraplanar nature, against the
undead, or against mortal beings of awesome power which
cannot be contested by any other single mortal.

Role

Chapter 3

"Yer been 'ere near fifteen years now under me tutelage
boy, it be time yer brought tha' War to the Magi." the
dwarf says to Jikahl, patting him on the kneecap as they
walk through the streets of Balator late at night. He
looks up at Jikahl with a mischevious grin and continues,
"I have taught ye of parity, of courage, of our laws, an'
of the weakness many generation o'BattleRager have seen
as o'late. Ye have decided to swear all to the path o'
Honor, dumb as it may be to an' old sod like me, it may
be tha' image them Berserkers need ta remember. It be on
ye boy to wear tha' mark we branded you with. Tha' mark
o'tha' Unbreakable Blade, those which tha' true Honorbound
would wear into battle. Find tha' old Gatehouse an' find
tha' Village of BattleRagers, in this yer find yer solace."

"You have taught me well, Thrym. I will return here once
I have proven myself to the current BattleRagers and am
accepted as one of them. With Honor, with Courage, and
with the Unbreakable Blade guiding my path, I know that
I can make a difference." Jikahl responds stoicly.

"Then take this 'ere blade an' be on yer way. Honor an'
Courage guide ye to Victory lad." Thrym says while
extending a padded wooden sword to Jikahl.

Jikahl takes the blade and raises a massive hand as a
farewell, turning and walking back down the main path
of Balator towards Hamsah Mu'tazz.

Role

Chapter 2

"What the feck is it ye want, pup?" the dwarf narrows
an eye skeptically as he peers over the form of Jikahl
standing in the doorway. He is seated atop a stool, a
sword formed of bone and skulls propped against the
desk he's in front of.

"I... I have come here at the request of my fallen
father, Jorgik of the BloodMaw. His dying words to
me were to come here and avenge my people." Jikahl
responds after taking no time to hesitate, he looks
steadily at Thrym with the words.

"Jorgik... Bloodmaw... Oh shite. Now ah be rememberin'
the name well, wasn' that long ago tha' yer daddy an'
me were fightin' the same cause. But War isn' for every
soul an' yer dad decided it be best for him an' his
people that he turn from the War on Magic. I ain' got
time for games though, lad, an' unless yer ready to
pledge everythin' yer got, yer wastin' mah time." the
dwarf Thrym responds gruffly, tugging at a braided beard
with flaring nostrils.

Jikahl hesitates a moment and simply peers at Thrym,
pondering the situation.

"Well boy? What's yer decision?" the dwarf leans back
in the chair now and raises a dirty wooden mug filled
with ale to his lips, gulping down nearly half the
contents in one swig.

"I pledge that all that I have and will be in service
to you Thrym, to learn and to be guided by you. Until
I seee my death." the giant responds.

"Bold words. We'll soon see if they be true. Put yer
shite in the barracks an' grab a bunk. Trainin' starts
when yer fed in the yard." the dwarf responds grimly,
pointing back at the doorway.

Role

Chapter 1

Born of a savage and neinderthal-like tribe of
cloud giants which frequent the icy slopes of the
mountains north of the city of Udgaard Loke, Jikahl
was raised in the most barbaric of cultures. Known
to practice an ancient form of animal worship to
something they call "The Great Wild Beast", Ma'rin
during the last few decades he'd spend with the tribe
changed from tradition, some of the more veteran
soldiers had become so driven by bloodshed, that
they began using other sentient races, even other
tribes of cloud giants as sacrifices to appease this
dark deity to whom they all swore allegiance to.

Praised as among the most intelligent of the most
recent generation, Jikahl was born as the eldest son
to one of five shamans which watched over a congregation
of a few hundred. He was afforded to study many manuals
and texts which few were privledged to, and in secret
would be tutored by his father in more chivalric and
worthy pursuits than those of his more bloodthirsty
and savage brethren. He took particular glee and
fascination when reading the ancient tales of the
BattleRagers of Thera, and the War they wage against
the forces of the Arcane.

The great disaster to his people would come in the
midst of a cold and dreary night. A mass of hundreds
of jaette led by anti-paladins and necromancers had
been detached by Udgaard Loke as a raiding party tasked
to destroy anything and everything they come across.
With only a limited grasp of magic at best, the wild
and awesome forces which Jikahl once tried to conceive
in his imagination were coming alive before him. He
stood in utter shock, watching waves and waves of his
people be blasted asunder from massive balls of fire
and frigid globes of crudely-formed ice.

"Go! Now! To Balator! Find Thrym and avenge our
people!" Jikahls father screams at him at the top
of his lungs, his thumb jerking towards the hidden
passage buried beneath a mound of rubble layered in
frost and flickering in some parts as lit flame.

Jikahl would be one of twelve to escape the disaster
and take to refuge abroad. Only one other giant would
accompany Jikahl towards the direction of Balator after
passing through the Vast Plains near Tir-Talath and
Galadon. He would bid Jikahl farewell at the shores
of Hamsah Mu'tazz before the young giant would venture
north into the settlement of Balator.

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