Male Dragonborn Fighter, Good
There is something that comes before anything. Honour.
Thyghor’s clan named the Venomtree has always been fighting against the black clan of the Mudfang. Cruel fights have been spilling the blood of thousands of Dragonborns, since the war has begun. There has been always one rule: live or die but honour yourself and you enemy.
So many battles have been fought since his major age, during which several friends has been lost forever. In the darkness of our world there is no time for hesitations. No time to think on the battlefield when you are surrounded by several hostiles, whose only scope is to break your spirit and your body forever.
Nevertheless he felt sorrow at the end of any fight, cleaning the blade of his Axe. “Trust no one but your strength”, said once his father before leaving for a battle that never saw him coming back. There was no trace of his body however, but many said that during the battle he became a feral spirit cutting the enemies just with his gaze.
We fought always for our masters: the ancient beings, the creators of our own lands: the Dragons. But never had we seen any of them taking place in the conflict. Never until that day…
The field was full of corpses scattered all around but still there was no sign of supremacy from one of the two clans. The destiny is a tiny balance made by the courage of brave men. Suddenly the shadow became alive and a dragon appeared. Immediately after, the black clan was yelling like mad animals and their looks become flaming fires. Black flames rained from the sky as the dragon passed by. Dust was made by flesh, while the crazy Mudfangs started to feed on those who survived; astonished by the surroundings that suddenly became a nightmare. Not only bodies but souls were yelling as imprisoned by flaming chains.
Riding the dragon, a strange figure was looking on the battlefield wearing a mask made of horror. After the battlefield was destroyed he led the dragon on the settlement where Thyghor’s clan had only women and children waiting for the returns of their warriors. The dark sky turned into a shiny red from the blood of all those who died under the black flames.
Thyghor’s look was petrified. It was the end, but he wanted to end it with honour. Screaming he raised his Weapon to the sky, while tears were falling on his face, leaving the deepest wounds that he never faced during his entire life. But someone stopped him. A hand firmly grasped his shoulder has he found himself as petrified. Few seconds later he felt a whisper that starting from his mind moved down, deep, and that almost stopped his hearth from the rumbling beating that drummed the passing time. “There is no Honour in this death. You will be doomed forever”.
And suddenly silence came…
Three days later the red Gauntlet passed by. He was the only survivor, at least that was what he thought.
So the journey started, but his hearth will never sleep until the masked man will fall…
Thyghor’s clan named the Venomtree has always been fighting against the black clan of the Mudfang. Cruel fights have been spilling the blood of thousands of Dragonborns, since the war has begun. There has been always one rule: live or die but honour yourself and you enemy.
So many battles have been fought since his major age, during which several friends has been lost forever. In the darkness of our world there is no time for hesitations. No time to think on the battlefield when you are surrounded by several hostiles, whose only scope is to break your spirit and your body forever.
Nevertheless he felt sorrow at the end of any fight, cleaning the blade of his Axe. “Trust no one but your strength”, said once his father before leaving for a battle that never saw him coming back. There was no trace of his body however, but many said that during the battle he became a feral spirit cutting the enemies just with his gaze.
We fought always for our masters: the ancient beings, the creators of our own lands: the Dragons. But never had we seen any of them taking place in the conflict. Never until that day…
The field was full of corpses scattered all around but still there was no sign of supremacy from one of the two clans. The destiny is a tiny balance made by the courage of brave men. Suddenly the shadow became alive and a dragon appeared. Immediately after, the black clan was yelling like mad animals and their looks become flaming fires. Black flames rained from the sky as the dragon passed by. Dust was made by flesh, while the crazy Mudfangs started to feed on those who survived; astonished by the surroundings that suddenly became a nightmare. Not only bodies but souls were yelling as imprisoned by flaming chains.
Riding the dragon, a strange figure was looking on the battlefield wearing a mask made of horror. After the battlefield was destroyed he led the dragon on the settlement where Thyghor’s clan had only women and children waiting for the returns of their warriors. The dark sky turned into a shiny red from the blood of all those who died under the black flames.
Thyghor’s look was petrified. It was the end, but he wanted to end it with honour. Screaming he raised his Weapon to the sky, while tears were falling on his face, leaving the deepest wounds that he never faced during his entire life. But someone stopped him. A hand firmly grasped his shoulder has he found himself as petrified. Few seconds later he felt a whisper that starting from his mind moved down, deep, and that almost stopped his hearth from the rumbling beating that drummed the passing time. “There is no Honour in this death. You will be doomed forever”.
And suddenly silence came…
Three days later the red Gauntlet passed by. He was the only survivor, at least that was what he thought.
So the journey started, but his hearth will never sleep until the masked man will fall…
***
1st Death - Killed by Tootak, a group member, for attacking a fellow dwarf, in the Thunderspire Labyrinth - Resurrected
2nd Death - Killed by Duergars in the Horned Hold - Resurrected
3rd Death - Petrified by a Medusa, and then crushed by an Ogre while petrified, in the Pyramid of Shadows
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