Thraldin the Student of the Macalla

Title History

Role

Chapter 3

Weeks had passed since the Scions' attack. Thraldrin had taken to the
mountains with a handful of survivors. Each night he was haunted by visions of
his sons' deaths. His dreams echoed with the screams of the dying. But he
pressed on, determined to keep his oath.

He had heard whispers of a group dedicated to destroying magic - the
BattleRagers. Tracking them down would not be easy, but if anyone could help
Thraldrin gain revenge, it was them. So he searched, chasing every rumor and
legend.

After months of seeking, he found himself in a rundown tavern on the outskirts
of a Galadon. Nursing an ale, he listened to the conversations around him.
Talk eventually turned to tales of "witch hunters" seen passing nearby.

Thraldrin's heart raced. This could be his chance. He approached the men
talking and casually brought up the witch hunters. Where were they headed? Did
they often come through these parts? He hid his eagerness, not wanting to
scare them off.

Eventually he learned enough. The BattleRagers did pass near here at times,
staying in an isolated village to the south of the great road. Gathering his
few possessions, Thraldrin set off at first light. He had a smith named Tahren
to find.

The road was long, but Thraldrin's dwarven endurance served him well. And he
walked it with new purpose. When he arrived at the village walls, a spark of
hope ignited within him.

Thraldrin found Tahren at his forge, recounted his tale, and showed the
magical rune etched upon his palm - a gift from one of the Scions' robed
lackeys. Tahren listened closely, then nodded.

"Aye, I've heard of these Scions. Foul magic indeed. If you wish to join us
and pledge to end their wickedness, I'll sponsor you as a recruit."

Joy and anticipation warred with grief and anger within Thraldrin at those
words. This was the path. Here he could train and gain the skills needed to
avenge his lost sons and village.

Gripping Tahren's arm, he swore his oath to end magic's evil. He would walk
this new path without hesitation. The BattleRagers would help him keep his
promise. The Scions would pay.

Role

Chapter 2

A blood red flash lit up the night sky, casting everything in crimson hues.
Thraldrin burst from his home, armor half strapped on, warhammer in hand. All
around the village people streamed from their homes, cries of alarm rising
into the cold mountain air.

In the village center floated a pulsating rift, tendrils of energy snaking out
from it. The obelisk had been placed there for study. But now? Now it was
surrounded by figures in dark robes, faces obscured by deep cowls. They
chanted in a guttural language as the rift grew larger, its unnatural light
bathing them.

With a thunderous snap the rift exploded outward, knocking everyone nearby to
the ground. When Thraldrin looked up, terror gripped his heart.

Stepping through the rift were creatures out of nightmare - dark beings
wrapped forged of shadow, darkness oozing from their empty eye sockets. They
raised clawed hands, appearing to drink in the light around them.

The robed figures cried out in malicious joy. "Praise the Eternal Night! Let
none survive!"

The attack was brutal and swift. The nightwalker horrors fell upon the
confused villagers, blades scything through flesh and bone. Cries of panic
turned to screams of pain. Blood slicked the ground.

Thraldrin rushed forward, joining the other warriors in vainly trying to
protect their families. His hammer crashed down again and again, shattering
bones. But the nightwalkers kept coming.

Then he saw them. Faldur and Bron, back to back, axes flashing as they
defended a group of children. Pride swelled in Thraldrin's heart at the
courage of his sons.

That pride turned to ash as a nightwalker's blade sank deep into Faldur's
back. He fell without a sound. Bron cried out in rage and anguish, only to
have his own head parted cleanly from his shoulders seconds later.

"Noooooo!" Thraldrin's vision went red with fury. He threw himself at the
nightwalkers who had killed his sons, his hammer moving in a relentless blur.
When he came back to his senses, six nightwalkers lay broken around him.

But it was too late. The village was lost. Those villagers still living fled
into the mountains, hunted by the remorseless nightwalkers. Of Thraldrin's
family, only he remained. The Scions had taken everything from him.

In that moment, surrounded by the bodies of his sons, Thraldrin swore an oath.
He would see the Scions destroyed and their foul magic wiped from the earth.
He would have his vengeance.

Role

Chapter 1

Thraldrin wiped the sweat from his brow as he lifted the red hot metal from
the forge. His muscular arms bulged with the effort, moving with practiced
ease. This would be the finest steel the village had seen in some time,
destined to become a new set of armor for the village elder.

He glanced over at his sons, Faldur and Bron, as they worked the bellows to
keep the forge hot. Though still young for dwarves, only 45, they were
diligent workers and quick studies in the craft. Thraldrin was proud to be
passing his skills to them, just as his father had passed the forge to him.

Their village was small but prosperous, tucked into the Shadowpeak mountains.
For decades they had mined rich seams of mithril, silver and iron, carving
deep into the mountain's depths. Thraldrin put those ores to good use in his
smithy. Tools, weapons, armor - he forged them all for the villagers with
skill.

Life was good. Until the day the excavators broke through into the ancient
cavern. None had known it was there, hidden far below their deepest mine
tunnels. But within they found an obelisk of carved obsidian, and upon it
unfamiliar runes. The elder ordered it brought to the surface for study.

That night, as Thraldrin closed down his forge, the village was alive with
speculation about the obelisk's origins. He paid it little mind, focused
instead on finishing the elder's new armor. After kissing his sons goodnight,
he fell into a deep and restful sleep.

If only he'd known what events the obelisk would unleash, perhaps things would
have been different. But fate had other plans for Thraldrin and his village.

Immortal Comments

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Leveling History

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