The Lord of Blades
Game Masters
Ero Sennin
Please allow me to introduce myself: I'm a man of wealth and taste
Posts: 1,314
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Post by The Lord of Blades on Jul 21, 2007 15:46:39 GMT -5
Player Name: James Character Name: Steelfire (LB29X) Aliases: The Prince of Blades Race: Warforged Classes: Fighter 5 / Warforged Juggernaut 5 Alignment: Lawful Evil Occupation: Servant of The Lord of Blades HP: 140/140 AC: 21 Touch: 10 Flat-Footed: 20 BAB: +8/+3 Grapple: +21 Attack Bonus: (With Terminus): +20/+15 (With Terminus against Humans): +22/+17 (With Battlefists): +17/+17 (Charging):+4 Damage: (With Terminus): 3d6+14 (19-20/x2) (With Terminus against Humans): 3d6+17 (19-20/x2) (With Battlefists:) 2d6+10 (20/x2) (Charging): +3d6 Initiative: +1 Speed: 30 ft. Appearance: Steelfire is a 10'10 Warforged Juggernaut. A male type personality with an unrestrained air of superiority about it, Steelfire's voice is firm and commanding. His hands look fully capable of crushing an ogre's skull, and each glows with a flame that never extinguishes and emits no heat. His eyes glow a dark red and around his body is a dark brown, frayed, torn, tattered cloak/robe draped about him at almost all times. The robe/cloak looks as though it has been washed in blood several times giving it a very distinctive shade of brown. He looks like a lone vagrant, but anyone who chances a glance at the robe while the wind tears at it sees smooth, adamantine armor beneath. Also, large boot-prints are left in his wake as his weight is well over 600 lbs. When battle begins the tattered robe/cloak vanishes in an instant, revealing a cruelly spiked and armored body of adamantine. On Steelfire's back at all times is a wicked looking sword that appears like several pieces of metal bolted and welded together, giving it a gruesome appearance. The blade itself radiates evil and any human who looks upon it feels a slightly unnerving 'hunger' from the blade. Steelfire looks down on almost all those around him, somehow conveying contempt in his cold, emotionless face. Steelfire never moves around others or steps out of the way when walking. When in a street, people part, move aside, or get pushed aside as he uncaringly walks into them and continues walking as they are pushed aside (Many are wounded by his spikes when this happens, he never stops and apologizes). When in the wilderness he will punch trees out of the way or roll boulders aside if he believes they are in his way. Steelfire respects some other races such as dragons, devils, and celestials, knowing they are just as longlived as he is. Steelfire looks like this but with flaming hands and red eyes: History: In second post, far too long to clutter this one with. Other Notes: His armor is still spiked beneath the image, anyone coming into harsh contact with him will still receive spike damage from it even in that disguise. Steelfire is Large sized. Steelfire has 10 ft. reach from Large size. Steelfire's armor spikes deal 2d6 piercing damage. Known Languages: Common, Draconic, Celestial, Infernal STR: 28 DEX: 13 CON: 20 INT: 16 WIS: 12 CHA: 15 Fort: +13 Reflex: +3 Will: +3 Feats: Adamantine Body (Eberron Campaign Setting), Power Attack (PHB), Improved Bull Rush (PHB), Weapon Focus (Great Sword) (PHB), Weapon Specialization (Great Sword) (PHB), Melee Weapon Mastery (Slashing) (PHB2), Improved Grapple (PHB). Skills: Will re-create in a few days Abilities: Armor Spikes, Expert Bull Rush, Powerful Charge, Greater Powerful Charge, Reserved, Charge Bonus +2, Construct Perfection I & II & III & IV, Healing Immunity, Superior Bull Rush. Spells: N/A EquipmentWeapon: Terminus (+1 Human Bane Large Greatsword) Body: +3 Glamered Adamantine Body Plating Head:Face:Neck:Arms:Hands: Battlefists (+1 Weapons) Feet: Boots of Striding & Springing Back: Torso: Waist: Rings: Inventory: Chain 100 ft., 15 Sheets of Paper, 10 Pieces of Chalk, 3 Vials of Ink, 1 Ink Pen, 5 Flasks of Oil, Bag of Holding Type I, 10 Repair Kits. Money: 3900 GP
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The Lord of Blades
Game Masters
Ero Sennin
Please allow me to introduce myself: I'm a man of wealth and taste
Posts: 1,314
|
Post by The Lord of Blades on Jul 21, 2007 15:49:04 GMT -5
LB29X was the original identification code given to the large Warforged that emerged from The Lord of Blades’ stolen, destroyed, and repaired again Cannith Creation Forge. The designation LB29X marked this new creation as the 29th attempt by The Lord of Blades to create a new model based on his own design; one that was larger than a normal Warforged. Hence the identification code, LB29X – Lord of Blades 29 Large. Having studied the designs of the Warforged Titans extensively… and lacking many of the morals present in the lesser, flesh-bound, mortal creatures of Eberron, The Lord of Blades experimented. The self-styled Warforged messiah and insurrectionist created several rejected failures. Each one was melted to slag and their materials reused. The Lord of Blades left the soul until the very end and the body was perfect to his specifications. While cruel and merciless in a way only a creature of adamantine and steel could be towards flesh, The Lord of Blades was quite fond of his followers and did not wish to prematurely end the lives of several of his own handmade creations, feeling an attachment to them a slight bit greater than to his own loyal Blades.
The 29th Warforged frame was a success. A regular Warforged in every respect… except dimensions, where the Warforged Scout was a small, stealthy creature, this new frame… it was the same size as the large Warforged Chargers. The Lord of Blades was pleased, this new frame could think and formulate strategies of its own and yet still possess incredible strength and prowess. Hesitating at naming it a Charger MK.2 he decided instead they would be free to choose their own names in his service. The 29th in the series, the first success was activated, marked, educated, trained to fight, and indoctrinated to worship its creator. It was given the choice of artificer and several other professions to serve its god, The Lord of Blades.
The choice was an easy one, #29 chose to fight. Already it had identified itself as male and assumed a unique persona based on the deific presence he believed was among him as The Lord of Blades moved about the hidden base. #29 adopted the chosen weapon of his religion, a great-sword and named it Terminus in Draconic (a language he’d learned of his own volition) which meant “Ender of All Things.” #29 taught himself more languages than simply Draconic, taking the time to learn both Infernal and Celestial. He surmised that the three races that’d enable him to converse with were long-lived, cunning, and worthy of any form of attention. The tongues of the elves, dwarves, and other lesser races were ignored. Those languages would die in time, just as the races themselves would, and when their kingdoms fell nothing would be left of their foolish languages. He did not teach himself Abyssal, believing that a chaotic creature would seldom opt for words and diplomacy above direct action. The elemental tongues he also ignored, these were languages for wizards to barter with otherworldly creatures of primal nature. This was not in #29’s interests, he knew he was a fighter first and a wizard second.
After a few years amongst the Blades, #29 was sent out to find his purpose. Choose his name and prove that he can survive amidst the world of the flesh-bound mortals. The Blades had envied him for some time as well, and The Lord of Blades knew that #29 must leave for a while. The incredible success of his creation had made #29 somewhat of a favorite and his size had made him impossible to daunt or threaten. #29 left, but not before receiving a blessing from the Lord of Blades himself, utilizing his Artificer talents; he bestowed a spell upon each of #29’s hands, flames appeared and would never diminish. The continual flames were a gift, to light his path amidst the dark rubbish of the mortal world. With that, #29 left the camp and sought to understand things with his own experience before returning, he would make his God proud.
During his sojourn in the world of the lesser races #29 witnessed the way his race was treated as indentured servants. The way the other races joked and laughed about the pitiful Warforged, just tools to be used until another war came. #29 found this infuriated him; here were others of his race being made into mere slaves! They tolerated it even! He began to suspect that The Lord of Blades was indeed right and that these other races were petty, cruel, and pointless. However, two encounters with unique individuals forever changed the existence and purpose of #29.
During one incident in which a Warforged servant was being tortured and beaten for failing to perform a task adequately, #29 approached the Human master. “What has he done wrong that you could have better performed yourself?” #29 inquired, wondering just how potent this Human may or may not be. The human responded by laughing and retorted: “It has no blood, it has no soul, it has no purpose but to go and fight others like it! You Warforged aren’t a race; you’re uppity golems that think too highly of themselves.” #29 grew steadily more frustrated, but gleaned from the man’s initial statement that he must be a worshipper of the Blood Cult of Vol. #29 inquired more about it and found the man to indeed be such a worshipper. “You Warforged don’t matter at all, you don’t have blood, and you lack any kind of power or importance because of it.” #29 paused, and thought for some time. Allowing the man to continue berating and lecturing his servant for several minutes before #29 drew his sword. He approached the man and plunged the blade into his stomach, spilling gore onto the ground. “Show me this power.” #29 demanded, withdrawing the sword rapidly and causing more blood to splash through the stomach wound onto the ground. The man screamed in pain and died slowly. #29 watched as he prayed and prayed. Nothing happened, the man simply died in pain. #29 let out a booming laugh at the death. “So that is your power?! The blood you covet and worship, is its only gift pain, suffering, and an easier venue for death? Thank you fool, the lesson is well learned.” #29 left the area immediately, while he harbored no fear of the weak human authorities he still knew that enough of them could overthrow him and end this journey for knowledge.
The second incident occurred nearly a year later. #29 had since journeyed a great distance and learned many things about what he believed himself to be and how he viewed other races. Never once had he doubted his God, The Lord of Blades. However, one individual made him question it for but a day. A Reforged named Silver Wire, who believed that the path of the Reforged was the real destiny of the Warforged and the way they would be truly accepted as a people encountered #29 and offered him a place to stay. Having never seen a large Warforged, Silver was curious (an emotion he commented that he had only vaguely known of before being a Reforged). He taught #29 all he knew of the Reforged ways and implored the large Warforged to join him in it. #29 was skeptical and continued to press the matter of power on Silver. The Reforged explained that it was from the soul, a burning essence that burned brightly and lit their path from within, similar to how #29’s burning hands lit the way for him. #29 was confused again and questioned: “So you would use your immortality to wait until you were equal with the humans and other races, accepted and regarded as a friend? That is what is right with your ‘soul’?” Silver let out a mournful sigh and responded: “If it were possible I’d rather be mortal, my soul yearns to be as they are. I would live a lifetime for this cause and happily expire knowing I had brought good to this world.” #29 stood and drew his sword: “You have been kind and courteous. You have been gracious and magnificent as a host. Now I learn that your soul seeks to demean itself. Is this what it means to be a Reforged?” Silver was shocked but having pursued a peaceful life for many years he was in no way prepared for what he saw, managing to stutter out: “Don’t you feel the fire of your hands? Does that not burn within your body? Can you not feel the warmth of life in yourself?” #29 looked thoughtfully at his hands which still burned with the continual flame and knew that Silver was trying to make a desperate plea to call him towards the lifestyle of a Reforged, knowing full well his hands generated no heat. “This? This is fire on metal. Metal does not feel heat, it simply melts if it is weak enough. Impurities are burned away. You wish to be mortal? You wish to die having done good honest things in your life? I grant your wish as a friend, Silver. Farewell.” With that #29 plunged his sword into the Reforgeds skull and left the house, setting it ablaze and watching it crumble in a crowd of spectators who could do no more than stare in awe. He left without another word, before the authorities suspected him.
Upon returning to the base in the Mournlands #29 announced his arrival and explained his journey to The Lord of Blades who was anxious to hear what his disciple had discovered and learned. He explained how he had discovered that anyone who worshipped mortal elements was powerless. Their very ideals were as fleeting as their lives. Throughout it though, the message and dying words of Silver rang in #29’s head. He finally made a very pivotal decision. “I am #29 no longer. I am the fire which burns steel, forever purifying the metal skin of our race. I… am… Steelfire.” The Lord of Blades smiled, a sinister gesture that only a being such as he could achieve. “Well then Steelfire, it seems you are a Blade after all. Even without the religious gestures or rites you are a servant of mine through and through. Others will scoff at your name, believing it to not be a weapon but you and I know far better. I have another blessing to give to you Steelfire. You will be tempered, molded, and forged anew. You will become my burning fury at the mortals of this world. You will be my direct disciple, you, Steelfire, are a greater weapon than a claymore, scimitar, or any other such thing. You are my first great success, bridging the gap between the Titans and us. Steelfire, you are to be a juggernaut and you will be prince where I am Lord. You will not have any position of command yet you will still inspire loyalty. You will no longer be given favors yet you are one of my chosen. You are above the Blades yet you are of the Blades. From this point on Steelfire, you must carve your own destiny into existence.” With that, The Lord of Blades turned and left. Steelfire was taken to a hidden chamber and modified. His adamantine body was reinforced. More plating was added to his frame; his eyes were altered to suit his new frame; battle fists were placed upon each of his hands rendering them as powerful weapons. His new hands glowed with the fire of his old, his eyes smoldered a dark red and his sword was returned to him now, glowing with an evil power that he had seen only in The Lord of Blades armor-blades before. Steelfire was built anew and he laughed at the notion. Here was a Reforging that made sense.
He stepped out of the hidden foundry and amongst his peers, his armor warping itself into the shape of a heavy shrouded cloak. He molded the hood out of its design; he would not hide his being. Steelfire knew that it was appearance only in change. He could still feel the armor spikes he now wore across his adamantine plated body. The procedure had altered him drastically and now he was a Warforged Juggernaut, embracing his machine heritage. The other Blades eyed him curiously, noting the way his spiked fists burned with a cold flame, visible at the sides of his frayed, torn, heavy robe. They gave him a wide berth, not wanting to question or threaten this new creature, this ‘Steelfire’. Many of the Blades believed that their lord and god had transferred his mind into this new powerful frame due to the way it acted. Steelfire was one of the many who provoked rumors that there were multiple “Lord of Blades” due to the manner in which he lead and the cruelty he showed towards the other races. Steelfire knew he was not alone. There were others like him. The other ‘chosen’ of his God, yet it bothered him not. Jealousy was an emotion for lesser races and Steelfire sought to purge it from himself whenever it arose.
Thus it came to be that Steelfire was known by many who knew that he was not their God, as “Steelfire, the Prince of Blades” and behind it all The Lord of Blades smiled.
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Post by Cadic's Devoted on Jul 22, 2007 16:29:45 GMT -5
Just about what I expected, and therefore Approved.
Nice backstory too...Even gives me a few ideas of my own. -grins evilly-
~Nick
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