Here is my character write-up I did for a campaign we recently started. I hope you enjoy the read....
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Arik ir'Bain
Arik's breath rose through the cold darkness of predawn. He was usually in the midst of his daily warm-up calisthenics by this point, but he realized the significance of the day's date and allowed himself the luxury of actually paying attention to the rising sun. As the Ring of Siberys slowly began to fade from the brightening sky Arik's mind began to dwell once again on the road that brought him here.
Arik was eight when Karn's body came back from the War. His eldest brother had died rather simply--a glancing blow from a maul, but just hard enough to just the right spot on his head. He was dead by the time a Jorasco got to him. His strong voice, that when lifted up in song was the envy of any passing bard, would only be heard again in silent memory. The funeral was short, his body and spirit committed to the Silver Flame in the nice, honorable, and expected fashion.
Not a fortnight had passed after Karn's funeral when Pyton and one of Father's swords went off to fight for good King Boranel and the greater glory of Breland. He was only 16 when he left. His sword arm and training served him almost two years before he met his end. Some blast of eldritch flame or some-such on a nameless field of battle. All that was left of him was his right hand, the hand that had held the sword that had finally failed him. He didn't burn long at his funeral.
Two down, two to go.
Merthew's dream had always been to captain an airship. He was on his way to making his dream come true when he was enlisted to be a cabin boy on the Dusk Chaser. Most of him made it home--but little was left attached to anything else, for some Karrnathi airship deliberately collided with the Dusk Chaser rather than admit defeat. His dream floated away along with the smoke from his pyre.
That left Arik, the only surviving son left to the ir'Bain family. His father, Therson, was the best weapon smith in Khorvaire, as far as 12-year-old Arik was concerned. That, and the loss of his left leg many years ago in the War, had left Therson at home with his family, busily making deadly (and beautiful) weapons for Boranel's armies. Therson was determined that his only surviving son would stay out of the War, too, one way or another.
Arik was a natural at the forge. In three short years he could make just about anything his father could. His steady hand and artistic skill in making weapons helped keep his mind off of his three dead brothers, most of the time. When the Conscriptors came to Griffon Way for their monthly culling of able-bodied men for the War Therson had Arik demonstrate his weapon-making abilities to the Serge. That, and a few "complimentary" weapons for the Serge and his men, allowed Arik to stay home and make weapons for King Boranel rather than go off to fight in the War. Arik was just happy he got to keep his legs.
Arik remembered the hot summer day that Thar's Company came to Griffon Way. They looked like a rag-tag band of brigands to the untrained eye, but Arik recognized the subtle signs of that rarest of things--a well-disciplined mercenary company. Thar--along with the heavy spiked chain that hung from his belt--enforced his strict, hobgoblin ways on his men--hobgoblins, humans, shifters, even a changeling. They lead a wagon bearing something hidden under a canvas. The oddest detail was that each member of the Company bore a spiked chain as his weapon.
Arik was surprised when Thar and two of his men made their way to his father's weapon shop. Thar inspected the weapons in the shop with a shrewd and discerning eye. He gruffly complimented Therson on his skill, and Arik quietly smiled, for a good half of those weapons were of his own make. Thar explained to Therson that under the canvas lay a large chunk of adamantine that fell from Siberys, and that he wanted the best weapon maker he could find to use it to make a spiked chain worthy of Thar's deadly skill. Therson jumped at the chance--and Arik smiled again, knowing he'd get to help his father make perhaps the most beautiful and deadly weapon in either of their careers.
It took a long time to make the chain. In that time Arik came to know Thar and some of his company. There was Sid, the quiet changeling, who seemed to have an eye for noticing things others didn't. There was Karkuk, the ever-laughing shifter, who never forgot a smell. There was green-eyed Malley, Thar's second, whose skill with the spiked chain was rivaled only by Thar himself.
Malley noticed Arik's watching him and Thar doing their morning calisthenics and weapon practice. He invited Arik to have a hand at swinging the spiked chain around. Arik gave it a go...and promptly sliced his hand open. Malley laughed. Annoyed, Arik continued, despite the pain, and gave a display that hinted at an affinity for the chain as natural as his affinity for the forge. Thar was impressed--as far as Thar can be. "You have potential, human. You will practice again tomorrow, if your father-sire grants permission."
Therson would never approve. The only reason to learn a weapon was to fight with it, which was the last thing Arik’s family wanted. So, Arik lied and kept his daily lessons with the chain secret from his father.
Weeks passed, and Arik's skill with the chain slowly grew greater. Along with the lessons came tales of the Company's exploits in the War. No king's pawns, these disciplined warriors fought where and when Thar said, and were paid quite well for it. By the time the great adamantine spiked chain was finished Arik was brimming with new skill and the desire to test it on the field of battle. One full day after Thar's Company left Griffon Way Arik slipped away and followed after them. He wrote a note explaining why he was leaving and gave it to his little sister, Aria, for her to give to their father.
The next year was exciting for Arik. He fought in many battles with his new brothers, his own spiked chain nearly as deadly as everyone else's. His nickname among his brothers was Sirocco for how wild and angry he often seemed when in the thickest and most harrowing of battles. Thar took extra time with Arik, teaching him not only the ways of the chain but also of personal discipline and the pride of the old Dakhaani Empire.
Those exciting times came to a close, however. During one battle east of the Cyran border Arik noticed that Malley kept glancing back westward, as if he were expecting something. Arik looked, too, expecting to see an approaching army or other danger, but all he could see was the rising smoke of distant battles, an almost constant occurrence. Turning away to resume fighting, Arik felt and saw a bright flash of light burst behind him, and he turned again to see a vast wall of dead-grey mist rushing toward them from the distant, western horizon. The Mist stopped less than a mile from them in the span of a few heartbeats.
Arik heard a gurgled rasp, and he turned to see Thar, his throat sliced apart, falling to the ground with rage and disbelief in his eyes. Standing over his dying form was Malley, the adamantine chain in his hands still glistening with the blackish blood of his former commander.
The fires of Fernia filled the entire Company as they all unleashed their primal fury upon Malley. But Malley's skill and his stolen chain were too good. One by one he began stripping the life from each of his former brothers. Arik was the sixth to drop as he felt the sharp chain wrap around his own throat, squeeze, and slice. The darkness was all….
Arik awoke to a warm tingling at his throat. He coughed up blood, right into the face of his healer. The cheerful halfling wiped the blood away as if it were a bit of water. "You're lucky," the Jorasco healer chimed, "You weren't quite as far gone as your friends." The carnage around them was intense. Arik grimly searched each body. No Malley. The blood-traitor must be alive. Surprisingly, Sid's and Karkuk's bodies weren't there; Arik thought that they were the first to go down, after Thar. Thar's body was still there. Most of it, anyway; the head was never found.
Arik knew what he must do. He must hunt down Malley and avenge his commander. A head for a head. Only he needed to be ready. His own chain broken, Arik needed a new chain, and the skill to best Malley, chain to chain.
Arik returned home to get a new chain from the best weapon maker in Khorvaire, as far as he was concerned. His family was gone. All of Griffon Way was gone. Just outside the edge of Cyre and the Mist, everyone had fled with a flood of other refugees, reportedly to Sharn. Arik trusted that his family was as safe as they could be in Sharn, but honestly he hardly seemed to care anymore. He picked up a new spiked chain, one that he himself had made. Not his best work, but it should keep him alive until he made a better one.
Arik's eyes hurt. Then he realized that the sun had finally risen above the horizon. Enough. The anniversary of the Day of Mourning was no excuse to slack in discipline. Arik's chain clinked, almost merrily, as he drew it out for his morning drills. He needed to master the chain if he had any hope of giving Malley the justice he deserved. Absent-mindedly touching the scars on his throat, Arik began Thar's lessons again.
The morning silence fell away to the singing of Arik’s chain....
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Character Background: See above for the details. Arik ir'Bain is the last surviving son of a Brelish family devastated by the Last War. His skill with weapon making kept him out of the War initially, but his fascination with a hobgoblin named Thar and his wondrous spiked chain lured him to run away and join Thar's Company, a mercenary group who fought for Breland. There he began the path of mastering the spiked chain, and now he sells his skills to keep him afloat on his quest for revenge.
Career Path: Story-wise, Arik seeks to become a master forger and wielder of the spiked chain. Thar's stories of the glories of Dhakaani hobgoblin chain masters fascinate him, and he works very hard to exceed their legendary skills. Rules wise, I had initially thought of Arik as being a fighter who takes any feat he can get that improves his uses of spiked chains. This was before Book of Nine Swords, so I don't know what potential that book has to make Arik a better chain wielder than a straight-up fighter. I thought I had also read about Eberron-specific spiked chain feats inspired by the hobgoblins, but I can’t seem to find those. I appreciate any specific help on the best career path for Arik that fits his story, and I am also open to doing what would better make him fit into the party.
Personal Goals: One, master the creation of spiked chains. Arik sees this goal being reached by his making an even better adamantine spiked chain than he and his father built for Thar. Two, master the use of spiked chains. Arik feels born to use these things, and he feels this goal is part and parcel of his third goal. Three, destroy Malley, the man who betrayed Thar's Company. The last Arik knew Malley was a master of the chain who wields Thar's stolen adamantine spike chain. Arik needs to master the chain if he hopes to survive a final encounter with Malley.
Fitting in to Eberron: The above story illustrates the Last War's impact on Arik. Arik’s family traditionally followed the Silver Flame, but Arik is rather disillusioned and bitter with religion in general and enjoys tweaking the sensibilities of uptight Flamers, as he calls them. He grew up in Griffon Way, a small town just on the Brelish side of the border to what is now the Mournland. No one lives there anymore, and Arik feels a bit homeless. Arik's family may or may not be distant relatives of house Cannith, but they never worked for the house directly. The only house Arik has any respect for is Jorasco because of their ability to heal without the religious aftertaste.
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Thanks,
Atavar
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Arik ir'Bain
Arik's breath rose through the cold darkness of predawn. He was usually in the midst of his daily warm-up calisthenics by this point, but he realized the significance of the day's date and allowed himself the luxury of actually paying attention to the rising sun. As the Ring of Siberys slowly began to fade from the brightening sky Arik's mind began to dwell once again on the road that brought him here.
Arik was eight when Karn's body came back from the War. His eldest brother had died rather simply--a glancing blow from a maul, but just hard enough to just the right spot on his head. He was dead by the time a Jorasco got to him. His strong voice, that when lifted up in song was the envy of any passing bard, would only be heard again in silent memory. The funeral was short, his body and spirit committed to the Silver Flame in the nice, honorable, and expected fashion.
Not a fortnight had passed after Karn's funeral when Pyton and one of Father's swords went off to fight for good King Boranel and the greater glory of Breland. He was only 16 when he left. His sword arm and training served him almost two years before he met his end. Some blast of eldritch flame or some-such on a nameless field of battle. All that was left of him was his right hand, the hand that had held the sword that had finally failed him. He didn't burn long at his funeral.
Two down, two to go.
Merthew's dream had always been to captain an airship. He was on his way to making his dream come true when he was enlisted to be a cabin boy on the Dusk Chaser. Most of him made it home--but little was left attached to anything else, for some Karrnathi airship deliberately collided with the Dusk Chaser rather than admit defeat. His dream floated away along with the smoke from his pyre.
That left Arik, the only surviving son left to the ir'Bain family. His father, Therson, was the best weapon smith in Khorvaire, as far as 12-year-old Arik was concerned. That, and the loss of his left leg many years ago in the War, had left Therson at home with his family, busily making deadly (and beautiful) weapons for Boranel's armies. Therson was determined that his only surviving son would stay out of the War, too, one way or another.
Arik was a natural at the forge. In three short years he could make just about anything his father could. His steady hand and artistic skill in making weapons helped keep his mind off of his three dead brothers, most of the time. When the Conscriptors came to Griffon Way for their monthly culling of able-bodied men for the War Therson had Arik demonstrate his weapon-making abilities to the Serge. That, and a few "complimentary" weapons for the Serge and his men, allowed Arik to stay home and make weapons for King Boranel rather than go off to fight in the War. Arik was just happy he got to keep his legs.
Arik remembered the hot summer day that Thar's Company came to Griffon Way. They looked like a rag-tag band of brigands to the untrained eye, but Arik recognized the subtle signs of that rarest of things--a well-disciplined mercenary company. Thar--along with the heavy spiked chain that hung from his belt--enforced his strict, hobgoblin ways on his men--hobgoblins, humans, shifters, even a changeling. They lead a wagon bearing something hidden under a canvas. The oddest detail was that each member of the Company bore a spiked chain as his weapon.
Arik was surprised when Thar and two of his men made their way to his father's weapon shop. Thar inspected the weapons in the shop with a shrewd and discerning eye. He gruffly complimented Therson on his skill, and Arik quietly smiled, for a good half of those weapons were of his own make. Thar explained to Therson that under the canvas lay a large chunk of adamantine that fell from Siberys, and that he wanted the best weapon maker he could find to use it to make a spiked chain worthy of Thar's deadly skill. Therson jumped at the chance--and Arik smiled again, knowing he'd get to help his father make perhaps the most beautiful and deadly weapon in either of their careers.
It took a long time to make the chain. In that time Arik came to know Thar and some of his company. There was Sid, the quiet changeling, who seemed to have an eye for noticing things others didn't. There was Karkuk, the ever-laughing shifter, who never forgot a smell. There was green-eyed Malley, Thar's second, whose skill with the spiked chain was rivaled only by Thar himself.
Malley noticed Arik's watching him and Thar doing their morning calisthenics and weapon practice. He invited Arik to have a hand at swinging the spiked chain around. Arik gave it a go...and promptly sliced his hand open. Malley laughed. Annoyed, Arik continued, despite the pain, and gave a display that hinted at an affinity for the chain as natural as his affinity for the forge. Thar was impressed--as far as Thar can be. "You have potential, human. You will practice again tomorrow, if your father-sire grants permission."
Therson would never approve. The only reason to learn a weapon was to fight with it, which was the last thing Arik’s family wanted. So, Arik lied and kept his daily lessons with the chain secret from his father.
Weeks passed, and Arik's skill with the chain slowly grew greater. Along with the lessons came tales of the Company's exploits in the War. No king's pawns, these disciplined warriors fought where and when Thar said, and were paid quite well for it. By the time the great adamantine spiked chain was finished Arik was brimming with new skill and the desire to test it on the field of battle. One full day after Thar's Company left Griffon Way Arik slipped away and followed after them. He wrote a note explaining why he was leaving and gave it to his little sister, Aria, for her to give to their father.
The next year was exciting for Arik. He fought in many battles with his new brothers, his own spiked chain nearly as deadly as everyone else's. His nickname among his brothers was Sirocco for how wild and angry he often seemed when in the thickest and most harrowing of battles. Thar took extra time with Arik, teaching him not only the ways of the chain but also of personal discipline and the pride of the old Dakhaani Empire.
Those exciting times came to a close, however. During one battle east of the Cyran border Arik noticed that Malley kept glancing back westward, as if he were expecting something. Arik looked, too, expecting to see an approaching army or other danger, but all he could see was the rising smoke of distant battles, an almost constant occurrence. Turning away to resume fighting, Arik felt and saw a bright flash of light burst behind him, and he turned again to see a vast wall of dead-grey mist rushing toward them from the distant, western horizon. The Mist stopped less than a mile from them in the span of a few heartbeats.
Arik heard a gurgled rasp, and he turned to see Thar, his throat sliced apart, falling to the ground with rage and disbelief in his eyes. Standing over his dying form was Malley, the adamantine chain in his hands still glistening with the blackish blood of his former commander.
The fires of Fernia filled the entire Company as they all unleashed their primal fury upon Malley. But Malley's skill and his stolen chain were too good. One by one he began stripping the life from each of his former brothers. Arik was the sixth to drop as he felt the sharp chain wrap around his own throat, squeeze, and slice. The darkness was all….
Arik awoke to a warm tingling at his throat. He coughed up blood, right into the face of his healer. The cheerful halfling wiped the blood away as if it were a bit of water. "You're lucky," the Jorasco healer chimed, "You weren't quite as far gone as your friends." The carnage around them was intense. Arik grimly searched each body. No Malley. The blood-traitor must be alive. Surprisingly, Sid's and Karkuk's bodies weren't there; Arik thought that they were the first to go down, after Thar. Thar's body was still there. Most of it, anyway; the head was never found.
Arik knew what he must do. He must hunt down Malley and avenge his commander. A head for a head. Only he needed to be ready. His own chain broken, Arik needed a new chain, and the skill to best Malley, chain to chain.
Arik returned home to get a new chain from the best weapon maker in Khorvaire, as far as he was concerned. His family was gone. All of Griffon Way was gone. Just outside the edge of Cyre and the Mist, everyone had fled with a flood of other refugees, reportedly to Sharn. Arik trusted that his family was as safe as they could be in Sharn, but honestly he hardly seemed to care anymore. He picked up a new spiked chain, one that he himself had made. Not his best work, but it should keep him alive until he made a better one.
Arik's eyes hurt. Then he realized that the sun had finally risen above the horizon. Enough. The anniversary of the Day of Mourning was no excuse to slack in discipline. Arik's chain clinked, almost merrily, as he drew it out for his morning drills. He needed to master the chain if he had any hope of giving Malley the justice he deserved. Absent-mindedly touching the scars on his throat, Arik began Thar's lessons again.
The morning silence fell away to the singing of Arik’s chain....
-----
Character Background: See above for the details. Arik ir'Bain is the last surviving son of a Brelish family devastated by the Last War. His skill with weapon making kept him out of the War initially, but his fascination with a hobgoblin named Thar and his wondrous spiked chain lured him to run away and join Thar's Company, a mercenary group who fought for Breland. There he began the path of mastering the spiked chain, and now he sells his skills to keep him afloat on his quest for revenge.
Career Path: Story-wise, Arik seeks to become a master forger and wielder of the spiked chain. Thar's stories of the glories of Dhakaani hobgoblin chain masters fascinate him, and he works very hard to exceed their legendary skills. Rules wise, I had initially thought of Arik as being a fighter who takes any feat he can get that improves his uses of spiked chains. This was before Book of Nine Swords, so I don't know what potential that book has to make Arik a better chain wielder than a straight-up fighter. I thought I had also read about Eberron-specific spiked chain feats inspired by the hobgoblins, but I can’t seem to find those. I appreciate any specific help on the best career path for Arik that fits his story, and I am also open to doing what would better make him fit into the party.
Personal Goals: One, master the creation of spiked chains. Arik sees this goal being reached by his making an even better adamantine spiked chain than he and his father built for Thar. Two, master the use of spiked chains. Arik feels born to use these things, and he feels this goal is part and parcel of his third goal. Three, destroy Malley, the man who betrayed Thar's Company. The last Arik knew Malley was a master of the chain who wields Thar's stolen adamantine spike chain. Arik needs to master the chain if he hopes to survive a final encounter with Malley.
Fitting in to Eberron: The above story illustrates the Last War's impact on Arik. Arik’s family traditionally followed the Silver Flame, but Arik is rather disillusioned and bitter with religion in general and enjoys tweaking the sensibilities of uptight Flamers, as he calls them. He grew up in Griffon Way, a small town just on the Brelish side of the border to what is now the Mournland. No one lives there anymore, and Arik feels a bit homeless. Arik's family may or may not be distant relatives of house Cannith, but they never worked for the house directly. The only house Arik has any respect for is Jorasco because of their ability to heal without the religious aftertaste.
-----
Thanks,
Atavar
