Boggz the Weaver of the Elements

Role

Chapter 4

At the surface, Boggz is a happy-go-lucky, herb-smoking ponderer of the
world around him and fierce defender of Thar-Eris. Despite his neutrality
and postive outlook, any offense to Thar-Eris is taken very much
personally and met with aggression.

- Relishes in the confrontation and strife that comes with fighting for
Thar-Eris.

- Fancies himself a trickster and sower of discord, using the whispering
winds to manipulate and taunt his foes into playing into his hand.

- Looks to Lord Jormyr for blessings, using the battlefield and the
mayhem of his creation as his prayers. Has not yet dared to approach him
directly.

- Spends much of his time leveling cities with incendiary explosions and
murdering guards that offer their protection to city-dwellers in an
effort to make it as unhospitable as possible.

- Grows an assortment of intoxicating moss and fungi on his robes for
convenience. Smokes them often in a continuous effort to achieve true
enlightenment.

- Emboldened by his visions, he still struggles with his newfound power
as his mastery over the elements grows by leaps and bounds, making him a
high-profile target to enemies of nature.

- Has earned respect amongst others of the refuge for his aggressiveness,
tenacity, and magical prowess. On the flip-side, enemies to Thar-Eris
simply view him as a murderous outlaw savage and terrorist-- a title he
is beginning to wear with pride.

- Denounced his last name to escape his Tribunal lineage, settling on
'Boggz Bogglezworth' after losing a bet to a frog during a drug-induced
hallucination.

- Received a blessing of the winds and flames from the God of Magic,
Twist. Plans to repay this by thinning the veil when he may.

Role

Chapter 3

The intoxicating smoke from my pipeweed had now thoroughly swaddled my
mind, lapping up the very last of my sobriety. The echoeing winds
intermingled with the gnashing of teeth and thrashing of the man-eating
vines in The Valley of Veran below began to take on a rhythmic,
enchanting tune, sending me into a trance-like state:

I stood there transfixed as if I were the fiery volcano itself, overcome
with conflict and turmoil as the elements raged inside of me. My earthen
body stretched toward the heavens, so titanic in its proportions that the
giants that waged war on my back were insignificant at best... And within
my caverns of stone, I felt the flames rise from the hearth of my heart,
giving birth to the amalgimation of fire and stone that is the magma
flowing through my veins. Steam poured from the cracks and fissures of my
stoney face as the mounting pressure became too great, resulting in a
plume of steam that heralded my war to the realms beyond like an
elaborate, crowning headdress... A momentary reprieve before the final
breaking point.

The earthen rigidity of my foundation is relentlessly grappled with by
the chaos of the flame... The constant conflict between the two elements
is what made up my very lifeblood, rising in me like the vicious cycle of
life and death, a battle of give and take. Fire becoming fluid against
stone, only for the magma to struggle against the cooling rock, defiantly
pursuing its victory in futility and forever destined to be encased in a
war against oppression... Never free, but always waging war.

As the war within me reaches its apex and I watch the lifeblood pour from
me, turning to lava as it makes its descent and leaving a wake of both
destruction and creation in equal parts, we reach the shore at last.
Sliding into the boiling river, the writhing battle of wills between the
lava of my very essences and the water that has me surrounded on all
sides. I relent at last and with one final gasp, my energy is released
into the air, exploding into a cloud of poisonous steam. Never destroyed,
only transformed, I liberate myself from my former body that mindlessly
follows the flow of the sea, and instead, I ascend. Up, up to the highest
peak of Veran, coming full circle as I intermingl with the very smoke
that had began the journey.

Role

Chapter 2

As my mind slackened from the potent herbs I had just inhaled, I took
pause for a moment to reflect on the origins of the family heirloom still
pressed to my lips:

My father and this pipe were interchangeable, almost. I couldn't think of
one without thinking of the other, which still rings true to this day.

I remember scrambling to grab it off the city streets as the chaos
unfolded... As the Sultan's guards piled on top of him, ripping him of
all his clothing and posessions right then and there before dragging him
off to a cell, never to see the light of day again.

He was a Magistrate of The Blood Tribunal, master invoker, and widower,
having lost my mother during complications from childbirth. And now, he
was nothing more than an example made by the Sultan that mistakes shall
not be tolerated.

An errant fireball, even in self-defense, is all it took to undo his
years of service and dedication to law. A small structure fire, even in
an effort to protect its inhabitants, was enough to rob him of his
freedom and turn a young boy into an orphan by virtue of the law.

I went from following his footsteps to fleeing from them. An orphan, an
outcast. I wanted to escape from it all, and here I find myself... Or
maybe I haven't really found myself at all.

Role

Chapter 1

A young gnome sits atop the the highest mountain peak overseeing the
Valley of Veran, his tiny legs dangling precariously off the ledge with
seemingly little care. A gnarled, wooden pipe packed to the brim with
assorted herbs is pressed tightly to his lips. Lighting it casually with
a magical flame from his fingertip, he takes a long, steady drag,
inhaling deeply into his miniscule diaphragm. The noxious odor of
steelroot-spiked pipeweed permeates the otherwise still, unadulterated
mountain air. Tendrils of smoke slowly weep from his lips as he peers out
at the lands below, his eyes widening with both severe intoxication and
quiet focus:

The merciless, churning flow of magma in the bowels of the volcano in the
depths of Mount Kiadana-Rah to the west.

The poisonous steam rising from the boiling river as it feeds into the
Dragon Sea.

The ruins of a once great civilization, overrun by the corrupt forces of
its own make in the Valley of Veran below.

And to the west... The Sultan's City of Hamsah Mu'tazz. Where it all
began.

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