The Master's Forge
Slender human with intense green eyes and black hair
Human – Clr 2 Favored Class: Cleric Str: 10 – +0 Dex: 13 – +1 Con: 10 – +0 Int: 12 – +1 Wis: 20 – +5 Cha: 13 – +1
hp: 16 ac: 20 (10+6(armor)+2(shield)+1(dex)+1(dodge)), ff: 18, touch: 12 al: c/g
fort: +3 (+3 class) refl: +2 (+0 class +1 dex +1 trait) will: +8 (+3 class +5 wis)
Skills (10 – 4/lvl(2+int+human)+favclassx2) linguistics – +5 (rk.1 + int(+1) + class(+3)) heal – +10 (rk.2 + wis(+5) + class(+3)) knowledge(religion) – +6 (rk.2 + int(+1) + class(+3)) perception – +6 (rk.1 + wis(+5)) spellcraft – +6 (rk.2 + int(+1) + class(+3)) survival – +11 (rk.2 + wis(+5) + class(+3) + misc(+1)) – trait poverty-stricken
Feats (2 – level+human) Endurance Dodge
Traits (2) poverty-stricken (+1 survival, class skill) deft dodger (+1 reflex save)
Special Channel Energy (positive, 4/day, 1d6, DC12 will for half) Fire Bolt (8/day, 1d6+1) Rebuke Death (8/day, 1d4+1) Domains – Fire, Healing Orisons Spontaneous Casting (cure)
Spells Level 0 (4) – DC 15 Light Purify Food + Drink Create Water Detect Magic
Level 1 (4+1) – DC 16 Shield of Faith Bless Comprehend Languages Endure Elements Domain – Burning Hands
Money: 4gp 4sp
Gear (total weight 61.5) Breastplate Heavy Wooden Shield Wooden Holy Symbol Spell Component Pouch Backpack 50’ Silk Rope Flint + Steel Morning Star Sling 1 day trail rations Belt Pouch Bedroll
Attacks: Morning Star: +1 (+1BAB) (1d8/x2) Sling: +2 (+1BAB +1dex) (1d4/x2) 50ft range Fire Bolt: +2 (+1BAB +1dex) vs. touch a.c. (1d6+1/x2) 30ft range
Azhateran (ah-ZAHT-er-ahn) grew up with his father, a rather eccentric human bard, in a predominantly elven forest. His mother had left them shortly after accepting the strange elvish-sounding name his father had insisted upon for their child. His father, perpetually broke (relying on income from his poetry which was nonsensical at best), took his only child and headed for the forest with starts in his eyes and a dream in his heart. He had always known that his poems were really meant for elves, and humans simply did not have the capacity to properly enjoy them.
The poetry lost on humans was even more lost on elves, though Ahz’s father seemed not to notice. Ahz learned to scavenge for his food as best he could. He found that elven children were as ruthless as human children, and was subjected to their taunting and rapidly thrown acorns and pine cones. Out of necessity Ahz learned to get out of the way quickly. One particularly spiteful elf made a mocking parody of one of Ahz’s dad’s poems – describing elves as slender trees and Az as a slug. The nickname caught on with the other elf children, and ‘slug’ was his nickname from then on to the local elf children.
Ahz meanwhile was trying to find a direction for his life. He learned the elven ways, and language, but did not fit in exactly. He spent most of his time in the forest, hiding from the elven children and trying to scrounge up food and drink. Sometimes, when he found a wounded animal, he would nurture it back to health instead of killing it for food. He never could consciously understand how he knew the difference – when to heal and when to kill – but somehow he always felt right about the decision. As he grew older he found that his abilities to find and clean sustenance, and his abilities to heal, were growing at an astounding rate, and seemed to work almost magically. What this meant, he did not know. He at least felt complete when working with these talents.
Then one day, disaster struck. Ahz was just coming back to the hut he shared with his father when he smelled a rare smell in the woods – intense smoke. Running over to the hut, he caught a glimpse of the crumpled form of his father, eyes glazed as the burning hut fell in on him. Ahz opened his mouth to shout, when he was hit on the head and the world went black.
When Ahz opened his eyes, the world was still black and there was an intense burning in his ankle. Reaching down to find the source of the pain, Ahz found a manacle had been soldered shut around his left ankle. Shortly thereafter, he learned that Duergar had raided the village, and took several young prisoners to work in their mines. Ahz did what he could to help the others, but their elf fragility withstood the dark and physical exertion even worse than his frail human form. Within a month of his capture, Ahz was the only surviving prisoner from his village. Ahz had given his name to his captors as Slug, and was called that for the entirety of his captivity. During that time, he also learned the language of the Duergar.
Ahz was eventually moved into a deeper cavern, where lava from deep in the mountain would sometimes bubble through the floor. Ahz was forced to heat raw tempered steel in this lava as the Duergar crafter blades. They had attempted to force Ahz to fold the metal as well, but found that his craftsmanship skills were so nonexistent, even the whip would not bring out results.
Ahz found he enjoyed working with the lava. Not just near the lava – with the lava. It spoke to him somehow. He always knew in just which place to dip the raw blade, and for how long. He tried to explain his natural understanding to himself, but found that he was happy just being – just having the lava as a friend.
Then one night the dreams began. Ahz had always sub-consciously blamed the fire for killing his father, as this was his last view of his father. He had always blamed the fire. Maybe he could have saved him – but for the fire. But then, lava had become his friend…and with lava, fire. One night, as he slept closer than usual to the lava, Ahz dreamed of the fire…of it reaching slender, fiery fingers, tendrils out toward….toward….water? It’s natural enemy? As the two met, the fire sizzled, the water boiled, and the event was not cataclysmic. It was not destructive. Instead it brought….healing…to those bathing in the water.
Ahz woke confused – how could fire do anything that would heal…do anything but harm? But the dream repeated itself. Again. And again. Ahz found he could search around the event, around the…burning water…and see details – some mountains, some barren white plains.
After a week, another dream occurred. In this dream, the fire which was his companion twirled around him, then around his manacles, then the manacles melted away. And he was free. Ahz immediately awoke, and found his manacles melted on the floor, and himself free. Ahz ran.
After many days of stumbling and running and not much sleep, Ahz feel out of a trapdoor in a cavern floor, and out into the sunlight. After spending an hour readjusting to the bright light, Ahz found food, and water, and began looking for some sort of civilization. What he found was the border village of Real (ray-all), a mostly human settlement of about 100. He described the white plains and the mountains, and they directed him north. North. Using his skills with foraging and healing, Ahz made his way north, slowly saving up a bit of money and some adventuring gear. He eventually found himself in Camlin, and found that Frostlands was the white plain in his dreams. Ahz decided to base in Camlin, and found a local group of adventurers/mercenaries to work with. He works well with others, though keeping to himself, but always searches for his healing fiery-water.
Ahz has spoken with the local church, and found them amiable but has no desire to join one of their orders. He does discuss matters of religions and healing with them, and sometimes subtly asks questions about the fiery water.