Curdan the Champion of Warfare

Role

Chapter 1

When someone feels it is appropriate, meaning, in an ic sense, that Ludan and
Dorgran believe he is good enough, then he can be called a Weapon. See prior
role entries.

Role

Chapter 2

Curdan has grown up now, and is far more confident in his life and his personal
achievements. That does not mean he does not understand that he still has plenty
to learn and grow, but he is not the child or even young dwarf he once was.
He has spent much time now both fighting and forging himself. He believes he
is well on the way to being the Weapon, as the finest of dwarven warriors
must be. He also has been working on his forging skills. He hopes that with
Aarn's help, he might one day forge a pair of gauntlets for his hands, his
only weapons, that harness his anger, the raging light inside him, to use it
not just in spirit and strength, but in actual combat. He does not know if it
is possible, but he knows such weapons exist and hopes that the great smith
Lord Aarn can help guide him to do so.
Also, he now begins to contemplate the possiblility that one of his
old comrades, a student of Dorgran now a full warrior, will come seek
him out and tell Curdan that he has proven himself and may rejoin his people,
as an Elite Guard. He does not know how he will react exactly, though he is also
not too worried that it will happen any time soon. But someday....

Role

Chapter 3

Years have passed since Curdan came to the lands. He recalls how soft he was, like
just heated whitesteel ore, potentially something, but as yet almost worthless.
He is not the sharp blade of a master smith yet, but he has been hardened, and
he has gained an edge. His youthful unchecked rage has become more of the tool that
Lord Aarn teaches of, giving great force to his spirit and his body, making him
more of the weapon he strives to be. Of course, the years of combat and victory and death
have also tempered him, and will continue to do so.
He has also returned to the forge, and continued to discipline himself through
practice and the hard work of smithing. Washed down by plenty of ale, certainly.
Curdan looks forward to continued learning and hardening, as he proves his worth
both to the world - his people at home and his brothers in the village - and to himself.

Role

Chapter 4

Accent
Curdan wonders why all the dwarves who leave the mountains take on this absurd
accent, barely cognizable as speech. And this fake big laugh of Har! just sounds like
stupid giants with ale caught in their throats. Most dwarves he knows, and certainly
those from respectable places like Akan and Mortorn, speak perfectly fine common tongue
and he will not debase his heritage by sounding otherwise.

Role

Chapter 5

Well it looks like I had a real doofus moment. This char's name is Curdan, not Chimdon.
Please just mentally interchange those names in that first role entry.... Thanks.

Role

Chapter 6

"A man IS a weapon. If you need a staff or sword or hammer or dagger, you are less
than a man. Trust nothing but yourself and nothing will fail you. And when you do fail,
you will know whom to blame: yourself. Do you hear me, boy?"
"Yessir!" was the only acceptable reply, not that Chimdon needed any instruction on that.
Old Dorgran might have only memories of color in his beard, but he could still whip any
five students into a frothy ale without breaking a sweat. As he should, he is the King's
Living Weapon, the finest fighter in all dwarfdom, both captain and instructor of Ludan's
Elite Guards, as well as his bodyguard when necessary. Sometimes Ludan gets rash and
makes forrays down to the duerg caverns when he shouldn't, and Dorgran has saved his
arse more than a few times. He is what each dwarf boy and girl hopes and dreams to become,
and Chimdon is no different. Still aglow with his promotion - he lovingly shined his
one-horned helmet until it almost glowed the night before - he will endure whatever
Dorgran dishes out.
Despite his enthusiasm though, as the days and weeks go by, Chimdon senses he is
being treated differently by Dorgran and his senior instructors. Nothing he can
put a finger on, but there nonetheless. Eventually, his dwarven stubborness forced
the direct approach and he up and asked Dorgran what was wrong. The answer changed
Chimdon's life: "Ah boy, I was hoping you wouldn't ask. But you're right, you are
not the same as these others. And as your parents died while you were young in one of
duerg raids, nobody would tell you. But I will. Chimdon my boy, you are the great,
great, great, great, great grandson of one of the last of our kind to be a
true mage. An invoker he was. His power and lonliness drove him mad and in his
delirium he used his magic .... and destroyed half of akan. Have you never wondered
why the path toward those damn orcs is so desolate, so craggy, so ugly?
He moved earth and air and destroyed everything in sight, killing hundreds. Seeing
you reminds those who know, and they know you're not him, but they fear you might
have it in you, and so they shun you. It's not going to be easy for you, but you
will need to prove yourself two times. Not just as a fighter, to become a truly
elite fighter, but also to prove that you don't have the magic in you, that you are
not a threat to us all. Until you do, you will never be part of the King's Elite Guards
and you will never advance beyond the second helmet. You're a good lad, and you show
promise, but that's how it is. Think on it. Now go."
Chimdon slowly walked to his room, his mind awash. Anger, rage, bewilderment, a
host of emotions ran through him. But in the end they boiled to a hard core of
dedication. He WOULD prove himself, in both ways. He WOULD be a living weapon, and
he would show his kind, all of them, that he was no pawn of magic. They will one
day be sorry for shunning him as they do now, and will have to respect him and call
him a true warrior. This he swore. Doing so, he left the mountain and began his
journeys with the other races and people, his training and his life beginning again, for now...

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