Baldur's Gate Chronicles - Character Builder (Dragonsbane (Thule))

General

Sex	Male
Race	Dwarf
Class	Fighter (Battlerager)
Experience	2,950,000
Levels	Lvl 19
Alignment	Neutral Good

Ability Scores

Strength	20
Dexterity	18
Constitution	21
Intelligence	12
Wisdom	14
Charisma	12

Special Skills

Kit Bonuses :

Enrage

Kit Weaknesses :

Becomes winded after berserking. While he's winded, he receives -2 to hit, -2 to damage and a +2 penalty to AC.

Cannot specialize in ranged weapons.

Ability Bonuses

To Hit	3
Damage	8
Wt Allow	600
Bashing%	55
Missile Def	3
AC Def	-4
HP Adj	+6
Res Surv%	100
Magic Def
Lore Bonus	0
Reaction Adj	0

Saving Throws

Paralyze/ Poison/ Death	-2
Rod/Staff/Wand	5
Petrify/Polymorph	-1
Breath Weapon	4
Spells	1

Weapon Proficiencies

Axe
Crossbows
Two Weapon
Weapon and Shield

+++++
+
+++
+

Biography

An overcast day, oppressive as the low hanging clouds pressed down upon the dry river bed which allowed passage through the forboding Spine of the World mountains. An ionized atmosphere, as experienced during great electrical storms, when the gods displayed their vanity, served only to further charge the atmosphere. Tension built in Minrael as he cleared the last remaining tree-lined crest, approaching the source of the thick, oily smoke which had drawn the ranger; as clear a sign of danger and havoc as a ringing claxon or the wail of a child. Carnage greeted his eye. The barrage of visual chaos was balanced by the eerie silence which muffled the field below. The scene defined the bedlam and mayhem that Minrael suspected ruled in the lower planes. Torn corpses, twisted metal and shattered wood defined the area. Steam rising from the corpses and the furtive movements of rodential scavengers provided the dynamics accompanying the crackle of the flame consuming the remains of the caravan�s wagons. Despite his experience with death and knowledge of the dangers of the mountainous passes, Minrael was shook. So much death. As much as a battle field might see during a siege. Minrael blinked twice as he spied the movement of a small child, arranging the limbs of a dwarven warrior or priest. The child was a boy. Thule was his name and this is his story. Thule was discovered, by the ranger Minrael, as a child of approximately four years of age, amidst the smoking ruins of a dwarven caravan. The caravan, initially assumed to belong to a trader, had been escorted by numerous dwarven warriors and several clerics. Minrael realized that the caravan was much more than a simple convoy of traders� wagons. The warriors wore chain mail armor made of an alloy he had never seen before and carried axes having a double blade of most curious design. One side was a broad, finely honed cutting edge. The other was serrated, appearing more like a torturer�s tool than a weapon of battle. "What manner of army carries such weapons as these? What foe would require such evil appearing blades?" All of the members of the caravan, including the orphaned child were marked by a ritualistic scar. Burned into the chest of each was a mark in the shape of triangle with the apex pointing down. There was a spike or bolt through the middle of the triangle, but Minrael did not recognize the mark, despite being the Ranger Lord for the region for one hundred and forty years. Beyond the arms and markings of the corpses found amongst the carnage, there were other details that bothered Minrael. It was considered odd for any caravan to travel during the winter months near the Spine of the World mountain range. The standards and banners, bearing the mark of the scar of the dwarven soldiers, were unlike any known to the region. Minrael knew all of the hill and gulley dwarf colonies which populated the foothills on the southern side of the Spine of the World. Though dwarven caravans carried gems, weapons and armor coveted by many a trader and a greater number of highwaymen and thieves, few would raid the dwarves. Small in stature, yes, but extremely powerful and more stalwart than a knotted oak. This caravan was most heavily guarded, yet the carnage had been nearly complete. Minrael noted the many corpses of Stone Giants. Grimly, he noted that they out numbered the dwarves. "What would cause so many giants to gather together?" he wondered. Normally the giants travelled in clans, wary of any outsiders... particularly other giants. Despite their impressive size and physical strength, giants are dim-witted and often inbred. They were not capable of overtaking an armed company of dwarves such as lay before him now. Minrael turned to the child, expecting to find him cowering amidst the dead or rushing up to him, seeking comfort. The child did neither. He had continued to arrange other members of the fallen dwarf company, laying the arms neatly to the side of the warriors and folding the arms over the chest of each, covering the ritualistic scar with the left hand. Minrael spoke to the boy, bidding him to depart. Danger on the battle field did not end with the fighting�s end. Soon, scavengers and looters would be venturing forth to rob the dead. The child said only that his name was Thule. Even at such a tender age, having suffered tremendous physical and emotional trauma, he was stoic, mentioning only that a tribe of Stone Giants and the "thing that would not fall" ambushed the caravan. He would offer nothing further as to the caravan�s point of origin, destination or contents. Thule took the axe and a ring from the corpse of an aged dwarf. "Now, there is no king. Only Thule." No further explanation of the cryptic comment was offered. Minrael helped the boy to his saddle and mounted. Turning the horse, the two departed. Minrael looked back often, noting that Thule only stared straight ahead. The foothills of the Spine of the World were harsh lands. Minrael needed to find a home for the orphan. Thule was taken to the cleric of the nearest populated area, the small village of Verdant. An elderly man, the cleric was kindly and offered his home to Thule. As Thule grew, it was apparent that he was not purely a dwarf. Though he remained short statured, his eyes were a crystalline blue and he did not shy away from horses and magic as did all other dwarves known to the region. The cleric, Brother Justin, attempted to learn of Thule�s spiritual understanding and needs, but Thule was quite reticent. He would make a warding sign when laying down for his night�s slumber and refused to participate in the rituals of the chapel adjoining Brother Justin�s small home. At first Brother Justin would attempt to coerce Thule into his religious observations, but it was not long before he had difficulty in tricking the boy, or even locating him. Thule was rarely found about the mission after his first two lunar months. At times, the boy wold be found searching amongst the many caves dotting the foothills. Twice before he had seen twelve summers, Thule had been set upon by goblins in his searches of the caves. Each time, he returned battered and gore-covered but intact. However, it was most common to find him at the local blacksmith, drawn by the singing of the hammer to the anvil. The blacksmith, known as Merc, eventually offered to apprentice young Thule. This arrangement worked quite well for both as Thule was innately gifted to the craft and became known as a master armorer and weaponsmith before reaching manhood. He even received a commission to craft a scimitar for Minrael, the Ranger Lord who rescued him from his tribe�s near genocide. Besides being skilled as a smith, Thule was also a talented warrior, winning all of the feats of strength and skill at the Festival of Gathering held after the harvest each year. Unfortunately, his skills, rather than gaining him friends, alienated him amongst the humans who populated the area. By the time he reached adolescence, it was clear that Thule had mixed blood. Half-breeds were ill-tolerated in the remote region and Thule found himself spending more time alone or in the study of martial arts. Eventually, he ceased attempting to cultivate friendships and sought to find his purpose through the acquisition of battle skill and warcraft. Merc hastened Thule�s training by mentoring him in this training as well. Unfortunately for Thule, Merc�s habit of drinking overmuch and long suppressed rage often led to him entering a murderous rage during these sessions. Thule learned to parry, block and evade as if his life depended upon it. Indeed it often did. Thule did not shy away from the vicious beatings. He submitted himself to Merc�s rage. Merc realized, even through his drunken haze that Thule�s focus intensified with the pain. He recognized a dangerous trait in Thule. He saw that Thule sought danger, pain and punishment. Not as a challenge, not to prove himself. Merc knew that trait hid unplumbed depths of pain, anguish and loss. He knew because he had launched himself into such battle himself after losing a key battle that turned the war against his warlord. Merc died that day and suffers every moment of existence until his heart ceases beating from the heavy burden that presses upon it. Merc changed that day. He sought to connect with Thule to end the pain which had lain claim to a young life which should not be burdened by such loss. Verdant prospered during Thule�s early years until the day known as the "Day of the Goblin Swarm". Goblins, ever a nuisance to the region, had been eerily quiet for the months preceding that fateful day. The Day of Swarming marked the beginning of a several year siege upon the village of Verdant. Verdant, nestled in a remote vale near the foothills of the Spine of the World mountains, was nearly three full day�s ride from its nearest neighbor, Luskan. Luskan, an extremely poor region known only for peat farming, was lead by a cowardly Duke, who held the position by birthright, not by deed. Despite the grevious state of their neighbor, no assistance was offered from Luskan. The cowardly Duke would not honor the treaty of alliance held between Luskan and all of the villages of the regions for four generations. "I�ll not be bother by rabble such as you." was all he offered before riding away in his carriage. Verdant formed an ad hoc militia,lead by Merc. Merc, Thule discovered, was formerly a mercenary for a large city of the southern Sword Coast. His demeanor, prior to the state of emergency had been dour. As he was elected to lead the survivors of the goblin marauding, he seemingly transformed into a charismatic leader, gathering the remaining people within the confines of the town proper and quickly organinzing them into an inexperienced but highly disciplined regimen. A stalemate was quickly reached and enough land reclaimed that farming could be resumed to sustain the people through the long winter. The siege lasted years, as the goblins would attack and then retreat to their lairs in the foothills vast caves. The years of battle allowed Thule to grow into his own as a warrior. Though short in stature, he was tremendously powerful and knew the art of axe-weilding through the constant practice imposed by Merc during his early years. Thule, having been schooled in strategy by Merc for a number of years prior to the swarm became a lieutenant of the town�s defense force. Ironically, the need for his skills as a warrior broached the icy barricade of the town-folks� attitude towards Thule, giving him more peace than he had known prior to the goblin siege. As the years wound on, Merc realized that a defensive posture would not win the war. Assigning a strike force of two squads, consisting of most of the town�s fighting men, to infiltrate into the goblin homeland in an attempt to decimate the chieftain leadership or disrupt the infrastructure, Merc attempted to decisively end the war. The strike force was lead by Muslin Draakor, a town elder and the second squad was lead by Thule. The strike force split as they approached the goblin encampment. Muslin�s group entered into the cavernous maze from the main entrance, overwhelming the sentries posted at the opening. Thule and his smaller squad entered through an extended cleft, which appeared to head in the direction of the main cave structure. Unfortunately, the cave and cleft did not directly meet. Thule found his group atop a sheer drop, thirty feet above the main cavern. Thule kept his group silent, noticing a small number of bound humans being lead into the area. Along with the bound and gagged soldiers of Muslin�s group, he saw several goblins dragging dismembered limbs and a helmet streaming a trail of gore. Thule and his team were too far away to decipher the goblin gibberish. He suspected the main entrance had been rigged to collapse if invaded and that Muslin�s group had been caught in the trap. For a brief moment, Thule turned to explain the plight of the fate of the first squad to his men. However, a scream quickly averted his attention as the captives who, attempting to escape, were set upon by the goblin horde. A scream of outrage raced past the lips of one amongst Thule�s squad, serving only to endanger his previously hidden troops. He saw the goblin sentries race to another opening and knew that they would be cut off from their route of ingress. Seizing the initiative, Thule lead his warriors down a long, sloping path, hoping to outdistance the goblin pursuit. Thule led his human compatriots as his darksight allowed him to see in the lightless cavern paths. The pursuit lasted for several hours. However, as Thule and his group turned into a vast grotto, the pursuit suddenly broke off. Hoping to take advantage of the break, Thule and his group plunged deeper into the grotto. Amazingly, light appeared ahead, suggesting that a way out had been found. No longer being disadvantaged by the low light, his human companions darted ahead. Thule, shorter of leg and slower, fell several steps behind. He was still blasted back by the force of a loud bellow that broke from the opening ahead, which his companions had just entered. Regaining his feet, he advanced cautiously and found his three companions facing a black dragon. They were obviously stunned to find such a creature immediately in front of them and were frozen in place by the shock. Thule, equally stunned, watched horrified as the dragon swung its neck, adroitly knocking one of the men aside and turning to let loose a stream of acidic breath that quickly stripped the frames of the other two men into steaming pools of skeletal fragments and liquid ooze. The lone survivor, breathing raggedly, struggled to crawl undet the cover of a marble statue of an Orcish appearing creature. Thule watched horrifed as the black dragon bit down, nearly severing the man, and then tossed him up to swallow him whole. The man�s last screams were shut off abruptly as the dragon�s mouth closed shut. Thule was torn between foolishly rushing to his fallen friends or remaining outside the cave. Any sense of relative safety was shattered when the dragon looked directly at Thule�s positon and clearly stated in Common, "You must pass this way sometime and I sleep lightly." Thule, knowing he could never remove the guilt he now knew, looked back at the dragon and said, "I will pass you now, to return one day. When that day comes, it will mark one of us dead." The dragon laughed, the laughter rebounding as a physical force off the walls and ceiling. "You have a spine that rivals my own, dwarfling. Your courage has gained you another day. I give you your leave if you swear upon your honor to return when you are of such an age and equipped well enough to entertain me with your struggles. And bring me gold, much gold as befits my honor, when you return." Casting a glance at the puddle which had been two of the men he was duty-bound to protect and lead, Thule began to pass without further harassment through the dragon�s lair. Beneath his feet lay the fortunes of an eon�s worth of adventurers loot taken from those who had attempted to gain the riches of the dragon, also the plunder of the villages and caravans pillaged by the dragon. It was obvious that at one time, the dragon had been quite active and ranged over the lands of several races. "Hold small one. I see you wear a ring." Thule was wearing the ring of the his tribe, taken from the finger of the slain king on the day Minrael discovered him amongst the ruins of the caravan. "It was my king�s" said Thule. "Now it is yours. Now you are the king." said the dragon. "Perhaps there is greatness in you. I want you to survive until we meet again. I don�t want to be disappointed by a dwarf�s early death. Feeling generous, I grant you three items to carry from my lair. It is up to you to choose. If the gods favor you today, and they must as you are the first mortal to walk from my lair, you may find a weapon powerful enough to challenge even me if you pick well, a sorcerer�s book of spells or gems worth a king�s ransom. But do so quickly as your friend served only to waken my appetite, tasty as he was." Fuming from the insult to his comrade, Thule marched boldly through the dragon�s hoard, even passing under his forelegs to find such tresure as would best serve him. Feeling ill from the fumes of the dragon�s acidic and sulfurous breath, he took his time in selecting the items. Wondrous as many of the items were, only those who were worth the price paid by his comrades would be considered. He equipped himself with a wicked appearing doubled bladed axe carved from the most beautiful albany material. It cut through a sturdy wooden shield standing against a chest and would not be dulled, even after chipping several niches into the cavern wall. A scaled black cloak was also chosen. Despite the hardened appearance of the material, it was warm and supple. Thule found that he could not scratch it with his dagger. Finally, he chose a necklace adorned with a large emerald. Thule knew little of gems, but this piece was undeniably beautiful and the stone was large enough that even Thule realized the rarity of such a find. Thule turned and left without a word to the dragon. As he departed, the dragon called out "You are an expensive toy dwarf. I shall expect much entertainment from you... and gold. Do not disappoint me." As the distance built from the dragon and the preceding dangers of the failed goblin raid, Thule felt the enormity of the situation. Not only had Verdant lost most of its fighting force but another, more dangerous foe had been discovered almost within sight of the town! Realizing that his challenge to the dragon, incited by anger but bound by honor, now lay upon his shoulders, Thule stopped, overwhelmed. The adrenaline, which to this point had kept him moving at a rapid pace, no longer flowed. A DRAGON! Thule recalled the size of the immense creature as he passed, much like a rodent, between its forelegs. The hammering force of its voice, even its laughter. The malice as it spoke of the fate of his comrade, nearly severed in two and swallowed whole. Two other fully grown humans, reduced to vitrious puddles of endoplasm. "He has shat more danger than I can serve him" Thule thought as he bent forward, vomiting thrice. Walking away, Thule hobbled as he felt a stone in the tread of his boot. Kneeling to remove the stone, he discovered that a diamond, approximately the size of bear�s tooth, had lodged in his tread. Thule pocketed the diamond. Leaving the cavern system, he encountered no goblins, as they either feared the dragon or knew that none would escape who reached the clutches of his lair. While on his way out of the goblin�s range, he encountered a forward scouting squad of goblins. Thule learned of a counterstrike that would be launched against Verdant. Rightly, the goblins decided that the town would now be too weakened to defend itself from the horde. Thule rushed back to Verdant and sadly reported the news. Merc watched his young ward relate the tale of the failed strike force and of the presence of the dragon. Women weeped and children wailed. Even the hardened veterans paled at the mention of the dragon. "Lies, all lies. the coward ran from the goblins, sacrificing others to save his hide. He left my boy behind." This from the father of Muslin, the leader of the first squad. "Lies, Ahmed? Explain the boy�s skin." Merc pointed to Thule�s face. "Remove your helmet Thule." he commanded. Thule removed his helmet, revealing the reddened, blistered skin. The sulfurous fumes had burned away all of his hair and reddened his complexion. "He has been exposed to dragon�s breath." Again, the townfolk gasped. At Merc�s bidding, Thule completed the story, without revealing his contract with the dragon or the gifts he bore, in his typical stoic fashion, he accepted full responsibility for the failure. The pardon of the town, even of Merc, did nothing to resolve his guilt. Walking with Thule to gather their personal belongings, Merc told Thule how many survivors feel guilt when comrades fell in battle. He placed the blame of the first squad deaths on the Muslin for not scouting forward to check the passage for traps, if the tide of the battle allowed such a luxury. Merc knew well how unpredictable the tide of battle could be. The remaining townspeople, knowing of the coming doom, quickly packed their belongings and left their homes and farms, under the guidance of Merc and the remaining town elders. Thule soon left the company of the town, once they reached the relative safety of Luskan. Although Luskan would not accept the refugees, Thule knew that they could safely reach a haven somewhere under Merc�s guidance. Thule gave the gemstone he acquired from the dragon to Merc, to see to the financial needs of the remaining townfolk until they reached a safe haven. He spent the next three years fueling his spearing flames of guilt and learning better warcraft, firsthand. At first, Thule sought solace and danger in the Spine of the World. Perhaps he wanted to avenge the caravan in which he was found by the ranger Minreal. Perhaps he merely sought such an opponent as to end his misery. Regardless, he hired out to travelling caravans as a guard, often forging ahead into the mountains, seeking out the hill giants and stone giants that plagued the pass between the lands of Icewind Dale and the realms south of the Spine of the World. Walking without fear, actually without any regard to his own welfare, through some of the most dangerous paths in the region, Thule marched forward to his destiny. Thule�s bravery was never questioned by the caravan mansters or the traders. But it was not courage that allowed Thule to lead the way through the dangerous travels. There is no courage without fear. Men mentined that Thule was not afraid of death. Perhaps that was true. Perhaps he already knew death, most clearly his own. Thule knew where and by whose deed he would die. He witnessed the horror of the death, having watched his comrades, either dissolced or swallowed alive. Thule needn�t fear death. Death was his constant companion, as familiar as a brother, as attentice as a lender. In all that time amongst the caravans, he formed no friendships and spent most of his time in quiet contemplation. None the less, Thule gained reknown as a giant slayer and one who would protect a caravan even through the more perilous passes. He mastered the axe which he carried from the dragon�s lair, appreciating the fine craftmanship and excellent balance of the weapon. He wondered often at its composition as he never found it to lose its edge or even develop a burr, even after striking through the thick skull of a giant or the plated helm of a bandit. He came to know that the cloak served well as armor in addition to keeping him warm in the cold and blustery northern reaches. Of the locket, he knew only that it was unsurpassingly beautiful and quickly brought trouble if seen by others. Time passed and Thule yearned to return to the lair of the black dragon. Revenge burned coldly within his breast. Even the most frightening beast becomes contemptuous with time. Thule learned to hate the dragon as his anticipation of the honor-bound meeting proved corrosive to his soul. When Thule realized that he had ceased to walk amongst the living, knowing his own death, he pledged to himself that the dragon would pay dearly for the life, Thule�s life, that it stole in that lair those many years before. Meaning to return to the dragon the pain he had force Thule to carry for those many years, he knew that to face such a foe as the dragon, he would need to be better informed and better equipped. He could find none amongst the caravans who had heard of a black dragon in the area and none who had ever fought such creature. Strange that the creature would no longer pillage the caravans or towns for the gold it so obviously desired. Then he met Lesam the lesser. Lesam was a halfing wizard, who admittedly learned the arcane arts only so he could lighten the amount of physical labor life would bring and to bring a little extra luck to his gambling. Lesam was not a master of the arcane arts, but he served an experienced and knowledgeable mage who had collected a vast library and travelled the world over. It was Lesam who discovered the enchantments of Thule�s axe, and cloak that he carried forth from the dragon�s lair. The axe was not forged from any metal, rather was carved from the horn of a dragon. Lesam knew it required great magic to manipulate the materials of living creatures, not to mention the rare and exotic origin of the materials used. Thule admitted, when asked that he had tried to break the axe, even hewing through stone in a fit of rage, but could not dull the razor sharp edge. The cloak was magically formed as well. No needle, indeed, no dagger or spear could pierce the material used in its construction. The cloak, though supple and warm, was composed of dragon scales. "Black dragon?" Thule asked, not wishing to have such material in contact with his skin. "Impossible to say" said Lesam, as all dragon scale fades to black over time. Lesam could not decipher the nature of the locket, if indeed it had any magical qualities. "Junk, then" said Thule. "No, I sense a power in this jewel. Regardless, it is worth a lifetime of luxury based soley on its size. Never have I seen such an emerald." "Hold the quill. What�s this?" Lesam noted Thule�s ring as he was removing his gauntlets. "It is my ring. It was the ring of a king until my people were slaughtered when I was but a child. Now it is the ring of a half-breed who does not even have a home. I have lost two now. Completely erased." Lesam turned Thule�s hand to evaluate the ring more closely. "May I look at the band?" He removed the ring and read an inscription, "King of the Key". "What does this mean" Lesam wondered. Thule returned with Lesam to his home in the mage�s hold. The mage, Dina Tyranis, was once a battle mage and although she had never battled a dragon, she had once outfitted a group of adventurers who had faced a blue dragon and were able to flee, with some survivors. She had read of the malice of many a dragon and knew that the lands would be the better if rid of them. The quest also promised an epic story of adventure and possibly access to ancient tomes which could enrich her library holdings. Thule applied himself to study the race of dragons and searched in particular for any reference to a black in the region of Verdant. Dina and Lesam, knowing the pain of Thule, labored alongside him to design such equipment as may aid him in his quest. After several years of study, interrupted by ocassional trips to crypts or tombs to find other sources of lore or claim a magical item which may aid his quest, Thule declared his preparation complete. His training had been arduous, mentally as well as physically, including the reading of several magical tomes, generously offered by Dina, which granted Thule even greater strength and constitution. Dina and Lesam agreed they were prepared to send him on his way. Dina and Lesam had prepared a breastplate of armor that would withstand the piercing attack of the dragon�s bite and should resist at least some of the damage of the slashing claws. A shield, made of beetle�s shells, reinforced with steel ribs was provided to block Thule from the deadly acid blast. While no natural metals were known which could pierce a dragon�s hide, a magically enhanced spear was found amongst Dina�s collection and the dragonhorn axe which had been enchanted to retain its sharp edge, even after striking the dragon�s hide, was in Thule�s possession, a gift of the dragon he sought to slay. The necklace Thule wore was found to display multiple images of the wearer, while piercing through any illusionary magic. The cloak Thule wore, created from the shed scales of a dragon, possibly even from his mortal foe, would further protect him from any piercing and slashing injuries or the acidic spew by the black dragon. He struck out the next day, knowing the path to the dragon�s lair as if it were the most important fact in his life. Indeed it was. Thule passed through the ruins of the village of Verdant. He paused at the former site of the smithy, lifting the anvil from the ashes to rest in its rightful place once more. Coated with rust and ash, it none the less symbolized the times Thule spent under the tutelage of Merc, the foster guardian whom, Thule felt, he failed and then abandoned. As the sun was settling in the west, its amber glow painting a scene of beauty to overcap this visage of devastation that lay before him, Thule decided to make camp. "There is no place like home" he thought, then for no apparent reason, repeated it twice. He fed and watered his mount and then brushed it down, knowing that a hard ride may be before him. Late into the night, Thule was awakened by a series of footsteps stirring up the dust and stepping through the rubbish of the once fruitful Verdant. Voices broke through the darkness, goblin voices. Rising silently, Thule loosened his axe and pulled his cloak about him. Fingering the pendant, he whispered the magical words, "Lumina multitudina globus", which activated the image casting properties of the locket. Crouching low, he saw a score of goblins enter the former town�s square in which he had pitched camp. Seeing the horse, the goblins yelled in glee, as food and treasure stood before them. Jumping forward, Thule struck with his axe, removing the head from the first goblin to pass near him. However gruesome the actual death of the goblin may have been, it did not match the fearsome apparitions now facing the goblin hoard. Thirteen forms of Thule, each holding a goblin�s head, faced them. As he advanced, it seemed a dwarven army had arisen from the ashes of the dead human town. Crying in fright, the goblins ran, fleeing the town to the surrounding treeline. Thule managed to catch two who had tripped over the remains of the town�s well. Their end was swift and immediate. Thule sat up the rest of the night but was not harassed any further by the goblins. At daybreak, he broke fast and then mounted his horse and turned toward the cleft that would allow him access to the dragon�s lair. At last, he would meet his destiny. Thule reached the cleft much quicker this time, not needing to tend to the slower progress of stealth that had restricted the strike force. He made good time, with no intervention from the gobins. No longer were they an unified force, seeking to pillage the town of Verdant. They had dissembled into the feuding clans that were more typical of their kind. Thule made the cleft and stopped to eat lightly before progressing any further. He didn�t bother tying his horse. He knew that the horse would be set upon by a gang of goblins as soon as it was sighted. It was kinder to allow it to run free and fend for itself. He pulled the saddle and bags off and set them within the cleft, covered by brush. Finding the same perch from which his squad had watched the demise of the primary strike force, Thule felt the guilt, carried for years and argued by reason, as sharply as the blades and points passing through the bodies being pierced in his mind as he replayed the memory of that day. There are some wounds that time does not heal. Thule raced down the path, hurrying as he had the first time he traversed the domain of the goblin hoarde. His step was quidker and surer this time. He was no longer fleeing. He was preparing to run down the foe he had before him all of his life, an enemy larger than life. As Thule stepped up to the entrance of the dragon�s grotto, he heard "Welcome back dwarfling. I hope you have brought me plenty of gold. I know that I shall feed well today." Thule stepped directly into the line of sight of the dragon. Flipping a single copper piece directly at the keg sized eye which stared at him, he nonchalantly said, "Gold enough for you, befitting your honor." "Surely you jest dwarf. Where is the gold? Where are the bards who will sing of the glory which is Udoerasmus?" "None shall know of you, none shall sing of you. Either you or I die here today, but your memory remains dead to the outside world, except perhaps for some scavenging goblins who seem to accept you as one of their own." Thule knew that pride was the greatest fault of dragons and this dragon, Udoerasmus, was no exception. "One of their own? They revere me as a god!" Udoerasmus roared, thunder rumbling from his throat. In the din of the dragon�s bluster, Thule activated his locket. Again, thirteen Thules stood before the dragon. "Fool, I can see through any such magic. You can not hide from me." Udoerasmus looked directly at Thule, ignoring the images displayed about him. "Ahh" said Thule. "And now I can see through your weak magic, wingless dragon." Udoerasmus, his vieling magic stripped by the power of the locket, now appeared before Thule as a shambles of a dragon. Some long ago battle had left him much scarred and battered. His wings, burned through the membranes and shattered at the joints, lay crumpled and broken, tucked against his side. His tail was severed near its base and one hind leg was crippled as though it had been crushed in the grip of an angry god. The crippled leg and absent tail, in addition to the destruction applied to the wings, left the dragon immobile. Without the power of flight and unable to balance his gait, he was a prisoner in his own lair. "It seems that others mightier than Udoerasmus have visited the cave, worm. You lack even the ability to move from your own waste. It is a shame to have to kill you when letting you live could be such a greater torture. Perhaps I should let others know of what has become of Udoerasmus." Irrational, Udoerasmus lunged forward with his teeth, clamping down on Thule. The armor and cloak held, though his ribs were sorely bruised. A quick slash downward with the axe cut into the dragon�s jaw, causing Udoerasmus to release Thule. "You�ll excuse me if I broke wind in your mouth, snake. It seemed fitting." Again, the dragon lunged but Thule was able to avoid the attack, even scoring another slashing attack on the dragon�s snout. About the dragon�s roust, the pair parried back and forth. Once more was Thule caught in the dragon�s bite, falling severely winded. He sought the refuge of a broad stalagmite. "I tire of this game, snake." Thule taunted, keeping the dragon on edge. As he peered around the stalagmite, he was caught by surprise with a blast of acid. Reacting, barely in time, he raised the beetle sheild, deflecting the blast. Contrary to the hopes of Dina and Lesam, the beetle sheild melted before the blast. Fortunately, it lasted long enough to allow Thule to gain the cover of the stalagmite. Knowing that the acid blast could be deadly if faced again, Thule raced to the rear of the dragon. "Your face becomes unpleasant snake. The view is much more pleasant here." He launched the spear, enchanted by Dina, directly at the least armored spot on the dragon. Even the thinly armored nether region of the dragon�s anatomy was enough to turn the spear, despite the enchantments placed by Dina. That is not to say that the dragon did not become aware of the danger now facing him, perhaps not facing him, but none the less a danger. He still bled from the wounds delivered to his snout and neck. "We are at an impasse dwarf, I propose a truce." "A truce from one as proud as you? Nay, I say I finish you off. A burglar may enter a house from the front door or the rear. Perhaps a dragonkiller may as well." He tossed a statuette at the unprotected flank of the dragon. Flinching, the dragon tried to spin, falling as his balance failed. "Mercy, mercy I beg." "Mercy such as you showed my soldiers, snake." Thule knew he could slay the dragon, but saw no honor in killing a crippled being, draconic or human. "I offer you my gold, dwarf. Take all you want." "I will take of yours what I want, snake. I offer you your life, only because you once offered me mine." "I accept. Whatever you want." The dragon, seeing perhaps his only opportunity before him, seized upon it with feverish energy. "You serve as my treasure guard, snake. You remain here and protect my hoard from any other than I. None others shall be able to see your wounds or protect themselves from your acidic blasts. Know that if you ever try to betray me, I will slay you where you lay." "Accepted, accepted." Udoerasmus knew that Thule cared less for the treasure than did he and even if it was no longer his in name, it remained with him. His greed allowed him to see a minor victory in his defeat. Thule gathered a bag full of gold, gems and tomes. He kept his gaze upon Udoerasmus as he walked off. "None other than I shall enter here and none other than I shall ever hear of Udoerasmus. Stay with my treasure and have your life. Allow any to know of you, my treasure or this place and I return to slay you. You are my dog and nothing else. Are we agreed?" "Yes, merciful master. I will serve you well. Please take your time in returning, knowing that I will guard this place well." Thule turned and walked off. He knew that even without striking a serious blow, he ended the dragon�s life outside the grotto. A life in servitude, a life without pride is death to a proud race such as the dragons. Though he had slain only a dragon�s pride, Thule had become, to Udoerasmus, DRAGONSBANE. Thule walks away, exiting the cave to find his horse gone. It is of little consequence as his quest has come to an end. Now a more difficult task lies ahead of Thule. Having lived so long with the promise of death, Thule begins to wonder about the promises of life. As promised, Thule returned to the wizards, bearing several ancient and valuable tomes of magic and history. When asked of the adventure, Thule said little, commenting that the dragon was now dead to the world. Dina, knowing of his pain, nodded and asked, "but what of Thule, is he dead to the world as well?" Thule did not answer, for the question had been plaguing him as well. Thule remained with the wizards for a fortnight, recovering from his wounds and taking inventory of his newly won riches. Dina found most of the wealth was common riches, gold, jewels and the like. A curiously embossed purse caught her attention. The purse was not only knotted, but also had a magical binding as well. With a full night�s study and spell casting, she managed to undo the purse�s string and arcane bindings. Calling Thule and Lesam attention to the bag, she cautiously opened the bag, only to find a small statuette of a small canine. Dina emptied the bag by turning it upside down. The statuette tumbled to a rest directly in front of Thule. Reaching out, he placed in his palm to study it more closely. Surprisingly, the statuette was ice cold, but quickly began to warm against his flesh. The trio watched in amazement as the the outline of the statue blurred and a canine figure leaped from the statuette. In the midst of its leap, the canine grew, landing and turning to face Thule. It was a small terrier. Mesmerized, Thule stared at the dog. "I see my reflection in his eyes." He went quiet as the dog curled up against his chest on the table. "A cute little thing, what shall we name it?" asked Lesam. "His name is Gen." said Thule. "A fine choice" said Lesam. "No choice, it is his name. He speaks to me and allows me to see what he sees and hear what he hears." "A familiar? Held in a statuette?" Dina mused. Such items had been mentioned in the lore, but none had been seen by either of the mages. "It appears to have formed a bond with you Thule. He is yours to command." "What does that mean? Must I control him with thought?" Unbidden, the canine answered Thule�s questions, communicating directly in thought. He learned that Gen would come to his bidding, to watch as he slept or scout ahead in perilous places. Thule continued with his questions, silently in conversation with Gen, learning of his powers and restriction and even some of his history and of his earlier masters. Thule�s concentration was broken by the laughter of Dina and Lesam. "What is so funny?" asked Thule? "You smiled, it is the first time I have ever seen it." said Lesam behind a wide smirk. "It appears that whatever else the dog may do for you, you have found a friend." Friend, Thule had not been allowed such a thought for many years, with the threat of the dragon before him and the guilt of his battle losses behind him. Yet now, there was no barrier to such a privilege. Before him stood a small dog, a creture from a plane other than his own, and two wizards, all offering him their friendship and the warmth of a hearth and home. The thought raised a violent tirade of emotions within Thule, threatening to overwhelm his sanity as his need for companionship and company were matched against his knowledge of the pain and suffering that such relationships had brought him in the past. He rested uneasily that night, rising often from sweat-soaked sheets, recalling in his dreams the screams of the twonsfolk, or more dimly, the destruction of his people. Before the sun crested over the horizon, Thule packed his belongings and left. He placed a note explaining that he still had questons which must press on but asked to have his room held and his treasures guarded by the mages. "Not even a farewell party?" asked Lesam, who had been hoping that the previous night�s emotional display by Thule was a break through. "Nay, deep wounds heal slowly. But with time, they will heal." replied Dina, turning to her library which had been neglected somewhat during Thule�s stay with the pair. "We will see him again, for no other place is his home and even Thule must rest from time to time." Thule rode hard for several days. His decision to leave had been a mistake he realized, turning away from the offer of friendship held out by the two mages. Unfamiliar with true intimacy, Thule did not know that the offer need not to have been accepted to have been granted. He considered returning each night, but each time turned away, not willing to confront the mages and find the offer withdrawn. His failure to realize and accept the friendship of the mages drove Thule into the wilder realms of Faerun, seeking again to immerse himself in action and danger in order to avoid the greatest threat of pain, his own emotions. Winter was fast approaching and Thule considered travelling south. He knew the northern reaches well, but had never ventured south to the larger cities. Staying off road, he encountered an occassional tribe of Orks, or small bands of goblins, but none of the fiercer creatures that roamed the Spine of the World. Apparently the milder climate does not toughen the creatures as does the harsh environment of the north. During this time, Thule came across a small family of half-elves, who were meekly existing on a farmstead miles from a small village. "You are not welcome here because you are a half-breed, turn your horse and leave." called a voice from the trees. Squinting against the setting sun, he saw the silohuette of a young elven lass, holding a short bow aimed directly at his head. "Hold, Emdel. All are welcome who need shelter and food to continue their travels." another voice challenged from behind the first. A tall male stepped forth and welcomed Thule. He introduced himself and escorted Thule to his stead, where his horse was stabled, fed and watered by several young children. Thule was then led into the kitchen where introductions were made. He learned that his host and hostess were both half-elf, banished from communities of both humans and elves and forced to subsist on what nature and their skills could provide. All of the children lined up by age and bowed or curtsied as they were introduced. "And which of you would have taken me with the bow?" asked Thule. None answered and Rafriel, his host uncomfortably cleared his throat. "I apologize for her behavior, but that was Emdel, my wife�s eldest." Thule noted how Rafriel called the young woman "his wife�s eldest" but tactfully failed to comment on it. A fine supper was laid out and a pipe was passed between all the males. Emdel was seated next to Thule but refused to acknowledge him, reaching past to sere herself and setting plates out of his reach. "Enough," roared Rafriel, "you have insulted our guest enough Emdel." Wordlessly, she left the table, esscaping out into the dark night. "She is a bitter child" spoke Liarilee, the mother. Her father was an elven ranger who died saving the townsfolk of our neighbors. She now bears a grudge against all humans and strangers and deals with her mixed heritage very poorly." "I know some of her pain." said Thule, then he stopped. the comment was out fo character for him as was the sympathy, even empathy that was welling in his throat. Thule excused himself and walked into the night, not to find the girl but to seek his own solace as he again battle d the emotions which had unexpectedly surfaced. "I warned you away once, and I�ll not warn you away again." whispered Emdel. Thule looke dup and found he had inadvertently followed her trail, the heat of her footprints as clear to him as a bent blade of grass would be to a ranger. "I did not mean to follow you." He said, turning away. "A straight line to me says otherwise." Emdel responded, "stay away." Thule spent the next hour grooming his horse, until Rafriel and Liarilee came to his side. "We would like to ask you a favor Thule. We see good in you and would ask that you allow Emdel to travel with you." Thule turned, a sarcastic laugh bubbling forth, "and who will protect me from her while I travel? She has no more desire to travel with me than I with her." The parents explained their fears that Emdel, acting out in her anger and hatred of the townsfolk, had taken to thieving and though she had not yet aroused suspicion, that even a hint would spell trouble for the entire family. Thule explained that he was no guardian and certainly could not guarantee the girl�s safety and did not welcome company in his travels. The parents continued their pleas, wearing down his arguments until the early hours of the next morning. Thule agreed at last to consider the proposal, after talking to Emdel. He slept past the noon meal, eating alone. He could see the family working the fields in the distance from the window as he cleaned his dishes. "Am I to travel with you or no?" he ehard from behind. "That is up to you, but I travel at dawn tommorrow." said Thule, turning to see the door already shutting. Shaking his head, he questioned the wisdom of the decision. The family ate a subdued meal that night and a generous supply of dried meats, fruits and bread were prepared. Thule sat alone out in the stable, giving the family a last few moments of privacy before letting their first child leave to enter a world which would view her bloodline as tainted and her station in life as that of a servant or worse, an abomination of nature which must be destroyed. Next, the travels of Thule and Emdel through the southern lands and their discovery of Thule�s heritage.

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Character Created By Dragonsbane For Baldur's Gate II - Shadows Of Amn