The Jib-Jabbers and the Pentaportal Incongruity
A Vengeful Gold Dragonborn Fighter
Part 1: The Origins
A gold dragon born in the volcanic regions during the draconian wars (the same region as Dargon) was captured and raised by the captors. As he grew he became large and strong (his heritage was of large dragon clans). Hopeless in the confines of a brutal dungeon with his family tortured to death in front of him he was broken very young. He grew into his teens in shackles laborious servitude and slavery, his size and strength were his Dragonborn salvation. He was offered up to the ruling elite as an arena fighter for public spectacle. He was talented as a sword fighter and was victorious nigh undefeated in the ring. Many were cleaved of their limbs he was a ferocious gladiator and as a victor he was free of his chains and free of the dungeon. He was a hero. At twenty already soaked with blood he became convinced that he was of that nation and made himself believe he had a purpose. The bidding of the law of the land and a duty to “his nation”. He joined the ranks as soldier for his nation. He followed orders he continued to kill on command. He was part of a brutal legion, he knew it was brutal and he began to remember the torture of his family. In battle he would see his father’s face in his victims as he cleaved their heads. He saw women and children being tortured many without any specific purpose. He once again found himself in shackles, this time they were immaterial bonds. It was a nightmare. Late in the evening he defected.
Part 2: Finding Strength
He fled the region abandoning his entire life as a soldier. His shame for his part in the deaths of innocents was no longer concealed beneath a righteous guise of order and lawfulness. His betrayal of his comrades in arms, the fellow prisoners he murdered in the arena, and the final betrayal of his people that had come to liberate him.
On the run he learned the evil troopers he had abandoned turned the tide against the army from the volcanoes. The wretched and evil tyrants had conquered another people, his native people. He couldn’t bear to hold his sword, in his hand it dripped blood and guilt. It would be some time before he could hold any weapon. As a defector he had to stay away from major cities. Minions of his former command and bounty hunters would love to claim the substantial prize for his return. In any case defectors are not generally well liked. Years of scraping by working as muscle for hire in outpost camps and security detail for smuggled goods had colored his perceptions of right and wrong into a fluid smear. He took jobs that were illegal, he took jobs that were practically charity including defending outposts and villages from raiders. During one job near the poison forests of Mortwood he chanced upon an encounter with a recently banished lumberjack. This particularly brutish drunk shared his flask and camp for the night. As equals in exile the pair began to bond. After a time of heavy drinking the stories began to unfold around the campfire. For the first time in a long while the tales of battle and the thrill of victory didn’t make (LowKaar) tremble. At one point during a war story he picked up one of the dunks battle axes to act out one of his war stories. The weight felt good, the blood guilt was gone. Darwin told him “LowKaar, the battle rages on with or without the ale. With the ale your guts lead and your fears are too far away to care.” This axe and a travel flask were gifted by the kind banished dunk. As they parted ways LowKaar knew he had been changed for the better. Warmth and bravery flowed in his veins, the thrill of adventure and the protection of the weak called him on. His axe (Darwin’s Might), resonated within his life force. A bond was formed permanent a true. Additionally he now knew how to avenge his family and his race. The head of the enemy king needed to be separated from the neck. LowKaar set out to become a powerful force for vengeance and protection. His dragon’s blood called him to study magic and become more powerful than the vile scum that robbed him of his family and honor. Never again could he betray his clan, whatever clan that is that would have him. He studied, he grew strong, he robbed, he fought, and he always toasted the lumberjack before battle.
Part 3: Becoming LowKaar
Empowered, he could now take his skills he learned as a fighter and strike back at authority and law. He wasn’t afraid to be discovered, the booze helped with that, still lingering in the depths however was the terror of being imprisoned and tortured. Being bound was not an option. LowKaar is quick to align himself with an underdog and ridiculously loyal to any companion or troop he trusts. Law be damned authorities beware. Guided by his gut instinct and trained in ground war LowKaar is a force of reckoning. Although his magic is just beginning to develop his strategy and observational analysis from training make him a keen opponent. As he adventures and gains power he will continue to massacre followers of his former captors he has even taken a shield from an enemy and used the blood to deface the shield in defiance. Oppressors be warned LowKaar is out for you.