Prophet of Ruornil, King of Medoere
- Name: Mozes The Prophet of Ruornil
- Race: Dwarven Male Eyes/skin: Grey, tanned Hair: White
- Height: 3’13” Weight:150 Age: 541
- Classes: Cle of Ruornil 1, Wiz 5, War Weaver 4
- Alignment: Lawful Neutral Deity: Ruornil
- Character concept: Elderly self-proclaimed prophet of Ruornil
Abilities: Str: 6 Dex: 10 Con: 14 (16) Int: 18 (22) Wis: 18 (20) Cha: 10 (12) >Bld: 35 (40) Perc: 15
HP: 102 AC: 10 Init.:+0
Saves: (+2 vs poison, +4 vs illusions, +2 vs spells)
Fort: +10 (+4base+3abil+3resis) Refl: +5 (+2base+0abil+3resis) Will: +16 (+8base+5abil+3resis)
Blood abilities (derivation? Masela? Vorynn?):
* long life, minor
* blood history, minor
* detect illusion, minor
* Moeten we nog gooien, minor
Belangrijke/kenmerkende/birthright skills + ranks
Administrate 10 ranks (+18) Bluff 10 ranks (+11) Craft weaving 5 ranks (+14) Craft weaving 5 ranks (+14) Diplomacy 10 ranks (+11) Fly 1 rank (+4) Know Arcana 5 ranks (+16) Know Answegh 1 rank (+10) Know History 1 rank (+16) Know Local Roesone 1 rank (+10) Know Nature 5 ranks (+14) Know Nobility 1 rank (+10) Know Religion 5 ranks (+16) Know Shadow Plane 1 rank (+10) Know Undead 1 rank (+10) Lead 5 ranks (+9) Linguistics 1 rank (+10) Sense Motive 5 ranks (+13) Spellcraft 6 ranks (+17) Warcraft 5 ranks (+11)
RP collection: Province 100%, Source 100%, Temple 100%, Law 100%, Guild 60%?
- Scribe Scroll (Free), Hardiness (Birthright feat), Toughness, Craft Wondrous Items, Practised Spellcaster, Regent Focus (Rule Holding), Enlarge spell
- Domains: Knowledge, Ruornill
- Channel energy 3/day (1d6)
- Divine Aura?
- Midling Perception
- School Specialization: Transmuter (Barred: necromancy, divination)
- Arcane Bond (i.p.v. familiar)
- Cantrips (4)
- Eldritch Tapestry
- Quiescent weaving
#1 Nerveskitter, knock, diguise self, mage wrmor, persistant blade, magic missile, color spray, benign transposition, swift expiditious retreat, feather fall, identify, shield, obscuring mist, shocking grasp, summon monster I
#2 Spider climb, invisibility, snake’s swiftness, charm person, fox’s cunning, resist energy, lesser electric orb, snowball swarm
#3 Haste, displacement, fireball, dispel magic, major image, deeper darkvision, fly, tiny hut, alania’s mage armor, lightning bolt, greater magic weapon.
#4 Mnemonic enhancer, solid fog, ice storm, dimension door, wall of fire, detect scrying.
- Rod of the Rightful Ruler, artifact
- The Silver Halo, Headband of vast intelligence +4 (administrate+bluff)
- Ring of the Silver Prophet, mage-bonded item
- Bracers of accuracy
- Boots of Striding & Springing
- Cloak of resistance +3
- Pearl of Power 1
- Platinum ring, spell focus
- Silver ring, ornamental
- 10 Shadow feathers
- Wyvern’s Tooth
- Tome of the Cold Rider
- Piece of Bone Claw
- Scroll of alchemy
- Scroll of obscuring mist, disguise self, benign transposition, mage armor, clw, lesser restoration
- Wand of ray of enfeeblement (1st), 10 charges
- Wand of magic missile (1st), 10 charges
- Potion of CLW
- Holy Symbol of Ruornil x3
The Shadow is the greatest threat to mankind; fight its influence always. We are the light that keeps darkness at bay.
-Holy Dogma of Ruornil
One might describe Ruorni as the more lawful interpretation of Ruornil’s teachings. The Oaths of Magic are an integral part of these teachings.
Reign to Power – Chapter Mozes: Reminisce
“Wake up you old drunk!” said the kid as he kicked the dwarf lying by the road. “Give me the money I saw you with, or I’ll slit your throat!” he shouted as he went on kicking and waving his small knife around. With his long gray beard, unkempt hair and filthy torn robe, the old dwarf just groaned as he lay still in the ditch by the side of some muddy old mountain path. The weather had turned from sun to pouring rain a few hours ago at dawn. A flash of lightning shed its light on the scrawny kid, a human that couldn’t be a day over sixteen years old, desperate enough to try and mug someone that looked even more poor then he did. Still he went on kicking, hitting the dwarf repeatedly on the shoulder. The dwarf hardly made a sound; alcohol, hunger and several hits to the head had left him partly unconscious. Only the sharp jabs of pain from the kicks pierced his hazy reality. His old mind remembered pain like that, pain he hadn’t felt since breaking his shoulder hundreds of years ago. The memories came back with stunning clarity.
“Kahil! Kahil! listen to me lad! you need to get help! get more dwarves! we can’t go freeing them just by ourselves!” the elderly dwarf shouted in his ears. They were in one of the many clan tunnels, miles below the surface. The new tunnel delving deep into the gold arteries of the mountain had cracked after a small tremor. All of the dozens of dwarves in this mining shift had raced towards secure chambers before a large cave-in covered all but two of them. Dust now filled the air and small rocks still dropped from the roof every few seconds. Diesa, the elderly female dwarf besides young Kahil, pushed him towards the nearest exit. She would carefully try and free as many of their brethren as she could before the rescue teams would arrive. Kahil didn’t move, he stood frozen. Blood from a cut in his cheek colored his short, young beard red. He vaguely saw Diesa move about between the dust, seeking a way to free anyone without causing another cave in. The elder dwarf had assumed the Kahil was on his way to get help. But the young dwarf was staying right there, he couldn’t leave them here. He couldn’t let them die while he would need precious time to get help. There was only one solution, he had to try to use magic. Everyone had heard the stories of Elder Torbera turning rock into mud to save dwarves. She had taught him the basics of magic, she had told the young dwarf he was gifted with talent fit for the greater arcane. Kahil had once even asked what components were needed for the infamous mud-spell. He could do it… he had to save them! Taking his flask Kahil poured it on some dirt and snatched the resulting clay off the ground. Taking a deep breath the young dwarf began summoning the arcane energies with a loud voice. Kahil felt them gather as his hands hurriedly shaped the power with the ancient Dwarven gestures passed down along the generations. He heard Diesa scream, but still his concentration did not falter. The magical energies whirled in front of the young dwarf, more and more gathered and were molded by the intricate gestures of his hands. So much power at his finger tips! He would save them all! He would be a hero! Sweat trickled down the sides of Kahil’s face, as dust was stinging his throat and his head began throbbing from the required concentration but he still moved on, doubling the speed of his hand gestures. His strong voice gathered more energies then he could control. No matter how hard he tried, it was no use, the young dwarf started losing control of a spell far to grand for him to understand. Just before it slipped Diesa reached him at full run and slammed into his side still screaming ‘Nooooo!’ for all she was worth. They crashed into the cavern wall several feet behind him and he heard the snap of his shoulder breaking as it hit the stone. Seconds before he slipped into unconsciousness from the pain, Kahil heard the thunderous roar of another cave in. The last few supporting stone columns had been turned to mud by the spell gone awry.
The old dwarf briefly woke a few hours later with a small shake, the head of some monk hovered over him. “Daniel, do you really have to bother every dirty beggar we meet on this trip?” said the silver robed woman still on the road. “Shush Lenna, can’t you hear what he’s saying?” the monk replied. Lenna took a deep breath for the words to put her acolyte back in his place. In the few seconds of silence she could hear the bruised and battered dwarf say something with a hoarse voice. The woman’s eyes widened, this dirty beggar wasn’t just delirious, he was reciting words of a greater mage spell! This was no mere beggar in a ditch. She quickly moved through the mud and knelt down beside the dwarf, touching his forehead. “He is burning up, we must get him to the monastery as soon as we can!” Lenna quickly muttered a prayer as she held the pendant hanging from her neck. A warm glow briefly covered the festering wound on the Kahil’s head and shoulder. It wasn’t enough to even bring the dwarf back from unconsciousness. “Let us both pray that will keep him alive until we can tend to his fever.” The cleric and her acolyte carried Kahil from his place in the mud by the side of the road onto their cart. Covered by their blankets, the two followers of Ruornil brought the old dwarf to their monastery a few miles ahead.
Days passed as the priests and monks cared for Kahil, tending to his wounds and fever. Many were surprised by the stamina of such an old dwarf. The beating he had taken in his malnourished state, followed by lying in the cold rain with infections spreading through his body. Most young men in the prime of their life would’ve succumbed by now. Both Daniel and Lenna had been with him as much as they could, trying to make sense of his delirious words, trying to find out exactly who this stranger was. A long and rainy week passed in the secluded monastery. Kahil’s body had recovered from large parts of the trauma with the help of the monks’ care. Yet he remained in his stupor, never fully waking no matter what they tried. They had only just moved him to a small hall with many more beds when the monastery had a visit. A passing priestess of Nesirie was passing by and agreed to see the mysterious dwarf after Lenna and Daniel had nearly begged her to do so. The clerics of Nesirie were known to be able to heal any trauma, especially those of past events. Intrigued by the figure before her, she studied him closer. The priestess first tried her most basic remedies, trying to bring him about, to make contact. With all else failing, the priestess spoke a prayer meant to divine the subject of his troubles and softly touched Kahil’s forehead. Seconds later a loud scream filled the monastery grounds. Both the priestess and the old dwarf’s bodies spasmed as they screamed their lungs out and a white light briefly shone outwards from their eyes and mouths. She had seen what happened that night! This dwarf carried Nesirie’s curse!
_Kahil stepped outside the book store and closed the door behind him. A cold sea breeze from the nearby harbor rustled his old gray beard on this early evening. The old dwarf mouth watered as he thought of the plate of Abbadiel’s finest fish cuisine waiting for him at the inn. After a long day of reading, he would even like the watery beer these blasted humans would serve him. It had been too many centuries since he had tasted real Dwarven ale, Kahil thought sadly. But he was almost ready! He just knew he would find out why his magical experiments kept failing. Anger rose in his chests, they wouldn’t stop him this time! No, not here. Called him crazy these humans did. But only Kahil knew what was going on. The humans didn’t understand that ‘they’ were everywhere! Under his pillow, in his food, always behind him, keeping out of sight. Always whispering their filthy words. How he should use his spells, challenging him to attack them with the arcane. “NO, NO I won’t!” Kahil suddenly shouted with his gruff voice. Passersby stared at him confused, was the crazy old dwarf bellowing to himself? He quickly donned his thick, brown cloak and scuttled into the streets staring back into any eyes that met his. “No..” he muttered softly “I won’t break my oath. A dwarf be nothing without his word.”
Meanwhile the wind blew some more chilling lashes of cold through the muddy streets. Above the faint light of the full moon was dimmed by the many tentacles of the dark clouds, gliding past at high speeds as if even they did not want to be there. Amidst the nightly void another even darker silhouette of a nightly creature flying past in the far distance. Around came the faint sounds of people enjoying their evenings with friends and family in the warm insides of their houses, making the streets look even more empty and devoid of life. In the chilling darkness a lonely woman stood, her gaze directed far, longing for the wide ocean in the distance. Her heart beating, beating for him. For tonight her soul mate, the man she would die for a hundred times over would return from sea. Endless months of tortured waiting for this love that could never be because of her history! Daily prayers to Nesirie to safeguard his voyage home; a voyage they both knew would’ve been his grave if the Lady of the Sea did not favor them. It will all soon end! And then, in the far distance a ship slowly ran into the harbor, a long vessel as dark as the mirror foreboding waters it sails. Finally another figure ran up the streets from the harbor, looking around to see where the keeper of his heart was. A forbidden love, but none more true! Reunited he knew their souls will be together again, this time forever. No more forced sailings, freedom forever! Yet true to the gloom of the night comes from the dark recesses of the night another figure, stepping on the street halfway between the lovers as they run towards to their destined reunion. Suddenly a dagger flashed in the moonlight as two men fight to their deaths. All for the love of a woman; a woman who chose one, and denied another! And in the darkness of the night passerby’s witnessed the awkwardly silent fight, one of many outside the walls of the many taverns that night. Kahil was one of them, quickly making his way across the city streets, he once again looked over his shoulder to catch his imaginary pursuers. He noticed the fight, one of the many he had seen in his time among humans. Yet this one was different, the old dwarf sensed there was more going on. No one else seemed to pay attention to the screaming pleas of the woman, believing her just one of the many misguided. Nobody asked why, nobody even tried to stop the fight. No one but the voices coming to Kahil, stronger this time. Telling him he should intervene, telling him he should blast the attacker into oblivion! Death to all those who would harm instead of help! The old dwarf nearly did it, nearly listened to the voices. But his vow! He had sworn never to use deadly magic again. Not since he had killed one of his own and made the vow over five hundred years ago had he broken it. He would use magic only to help people. He would succeed in his experiments and make the magic help everyone! Yet the voices kept coming, whispers turning into screams, thousands of them all at once. Fighting his own madness, Kahil forgot the fight and dropped to his knees with his hands clutched to his head, trying to make the screaming stop. The fight however went on and took the life of one, leaving half a soul behind forever; empty and devoid of any reason to live. Only one friendly gesture, one half bit of attention to the troubles of others could’ve perhaps saved this predestined love. But tonight these other strands of life did not intervene, leaving nothing but sorrow and grief! And as all is done and made happen, one deity took interest in the helpless half of soul, vowing to help this tiny light, such a ghostly image of its previous sparkle, this crying bundle of pain. With divine power it returned to that night, finding the strands of the passers by, those other sparks of life that could’ve changed the spinning of destiny for the better. And with a woman’s pain that had endured all that had ever transpired or ever will, weaved another thread into the blood of these six puny little threads. To see is to learn!_
The screaming and strange light stopped a mere second later as the priestess dropped to the floor of the hall…..