Dwaven Cleric of Moradin
Height: 4’ 6”
Weight: 200 lbs.
Eye Color: Emerald Green
Town of Origin: Mirabar
Description: Thick blonde hair and beard, braided in intricate patters with beads and such. A large symbol of Moradin’s Hammer & Forge dangles from his left ear, which he has a tendency to play with. When he’s getting serious, he’ll reach up and flick the earring, which will chime.
Personality: Straightforward, honest, brusque but caring, battle ready, humble towards his god.
|ITEM NAME||ITEM SLOT||REQUIRED LEVEL||SOURCE|
|Salubrious Nagascale +6||Armor||29||AV1|
|Flameward Light Shield||Armor||26||AV2|
|Dazzling Craghammer +5, +6||Weapon||25, 30||Dragon 386|
|Symbol of Warpriest +6||Holy Symbols||30||AV1|
|Iron Armbands of Power||Arms||26||AV1|
|Boots of Quickness||Feet||28||AV1|
|Gauntlets of the Blood War||Hands||26||Manual of the Planes|
|Helm of Battle||Head||29||PHB1|
|Ioun Stone of Regeneration||Head||25||AV1|
|Cloak of the Phoenix||Neck||30||AV1|
|Periapt of Wound Closure||Neck||30||AV2|
|Ring of Circling Fangs||Rings||20||Dungeon 181|
|Ring of the Dragonborn Emperor||Rings||15||AV1|
|Ring of the Zealous||Rings||15||AV1|
|Sash of Regeneration||Waist||28||AV2|
|Belt of Sacrifice||Waist||29||PHB1|
|Tattoo of Shared Heart (for everybody)||Tattoo||24||AV2|
((BOLD means an item that I really want!))
He was born the third son of Marsinda and Kathra Goldspinner (the family was known for their golden hair), but the last of their 5 children. It was a joyous day of celebration after a hard labor (his mother was getting much too old to have any more children), but it was also a day of prophecy, one of very few that his Æld (Dwarven for Aunt) Ruya had ever spoken. As the mid-wife had delivered the blonde-haired babe, Ruya, the high cleric of the Dwarven God Moradin, had fallen into a trance and had a vision of a great curse that would befall the town of Mirabar in the future. The only shadow of hope rested with this newborn babe who would have to leave the hold to return some day to save it. As they were wrapping the babe in swaddling, Ruya had rushed in and told the family of the prophecy she had seen. Even though they doubted the veracity of her prophecies, the boy was still named Brogan, meaning “little wanderer” in the Elder Tongue.
The Goldspinner’s oldest son, Thorfin, was already being trained to follow in his father’s footsteps of running the Merchant’s Guild some day. Their first daughter, Aileas, and their second daughter, Maisie, were already betrothed to sons of high-standing members in other prominent guilds. Their second son, Darrak, was learning the family trade, but he mainly worked in the defense of the town from the occasional Orc or Giant raids out of the surrounding mountains. The little babe was a blessing to the family and they doted on him, but it was decided that he should follow in his aunt’s footsteps and serve Moradin as a Cleric. Brogan loved every moment that his spent in his Æld’s tutelage. On a constant basis his Æld reminded him of the prophecy that surrounded his birth, in the hopes of preparing him for the fateful day. Like the rest of his family, Brogan didn’t give much heed to Ruya’s prophecies, since none had ever come true, but his mother had asked him to respect Æld Ruya, so he held his tongue and learned at her side to love and respect Moradin. Once his beard finally started to grow, she was the one who taught him the family tradition of braiding the genealogy of their clan into it as a reminder of their clan and their strong family ties.
In his 28th year, a huge Orc horde, led by Obould Many-Arrows, swept out of the deepest parts of the mountains, attacking the town of Mirabar and later on the region. All of the warriors were sent to defend the perimeter of the town, in the hopes of keeping the horde form entering the town, including Darrak. Marsinda, his father, and the other warriors of the town stood ready in case their defenses were breeched. In a strange twist of luck, the Orcish raiders had used some of the Dwarve’s own tunnels to enter the town undetected. In a great battle, Brogan’s father found himself facing an Orc Warboss, known for their strength and brutality in fighting. Marsinda was forced to his knees as blow after blow hammered down on his battleaxe, finally splitting it. Bloodied and weaponless, the Warboss’s poisoned blade descended one last time to end the Guild Master’s life. Instead, Ruya sacrificed herself, taking the fatal blow for her brother. The Orc’s sword had gone too deep and stuck, so Marsinda took up his sister’s Warhammer and killed the Warboss. The raiders were defeated and chased out of the city, but Ruya was too badly wounded and poisoned to be healed. A heartbroken family gathered around her bedside. Wheezing, she told her humbled brother to tell the family of her prophecy for him.
“Please dinna waste yer breath,” he begged her.
“Tell them the truth,” she commanded him. With tears streaming down his eyes, he recounted how, not long after Ruya had first become a Cleric of Moradin, she had given her first prophecy of how her brother would face a huge Orc in battle, lose to him, and that he would lose his life except that his sister would sacrifice hers for his. A hush fell over the room as the family began to respect the seer among them for the first time. Weakening a little more every moment as the Orc’s poison ate her alive, she blessed each of the family members. As the youngest, Brogan was the last. By this time his favorite Æld could barely speak above a whisper. With shaking fingers, she removed her earring, a finely carved Hammer and Forge symbol of her God, and placed it in his hand.
“Ne’er lose yer faith in Moradin. He learned his lesson years ago and will never abandon ye. Make yerself strong for him as ye wander this great land. Remember that Moradin loves yeh, yer family loves… yeh…, and I… love… yeh….” The aged hand he held in his own relaxed as death claimed her. Gently he folder her arms across her chest and stepped back as the each of the other members paid their respects. With tears streaming unabashed down his cheeks for his Æld, he reached up and pushed the post of the earring he’d been given into his left ear, piercing his flesh with the earring itself. Brogan’s heart was in such turmoil that he never felt the pain or the blood dripping down his ear as his parents began to prepare the body for burial.
From that day forward his family treated Brogan differently. They seemed to be counting down the days for when he would be ready and they would send him on his way as a wanderer. They now knew that Ruya’s visions should not be trifled with and were bound and determined to heed her dying wishes. With newfound respect, Brogan filled his days with study at the temple of Moradin. To ease the ache and fear of what his Æld’s prophecy meant, he lost himself in his studies and combat practice. The next few years flew by in the blink of an eye, each day as full at the last. During this time his father improved his station in the town and was elected not only to remain as the head of the Merchant’s Guild, but also to be the High Master of the governing counsel for the town. Thorfin was old enough to take up his father’s responsibilities to the guild while his father helped to run the counsel.
In his 30th year, a great ceremony was held at the temple of Moradin. There, the novitiates were finally granted full Clerical status and given the mission to deepen their faith and spread the religion of Moradin abroad. His family cheered him on, but then was visibly absent after the ceremony. After the gala, Brogan returned home, fear clutching his heart, to find that all of his necessities had been packed and that his entire family was waiting in the entry room, his bags next to them. Brogan looked from the sad eyes of his mother to the stoic eyes of his father and realized that the time had come to leave. He had dreaded this time, hoping that his parent’s faith in his Æld’s prophecy would wane, but it hadn’t. Angry at being forced to leave his family, at having his life dictated by a strange vision, he grabbed his bags, slung them over his shoulder, and stormed out of their home, never looking back. Later on he would regret never hugging his mother good-bye, but that would be later.
For the next month, Brogan found himself fighting for survival out in the Spine of the World mountains. When his anger got the better of him, he seriously considered undoing the genealogical weave in his beard, but something inside would stay his hand. At other times, depression and loneliness almost drove him to return to his family, but his honor and pride wouldn’t let him. Instead, he found his way towards the great Dwarven hold known as Mithral Hall. There King Bruenor and the other dwarves gladly welcomed both his warhammer and his clerical abilities, especially during the war years with the Orcs of Many-Arrows before a truce was arranged. When peace fell on the region, Brogan felt that he needed to move on in the hopes of discovering the meaning of the prophecy and maybe being able to finally return home.
In the city of Everlund the Temple of Torm welcomed him as a brother in the faith and allowed him a small cell with a sleeping cot, a chest, and a desk for his use. As he fully unpacked his bags for the first time, to store his belongings in the chest, he found a strange book that his mother had stuck at the very bottom. He sat down at the desk, which was crafted for human size, and carefully opened the book, his feet dangling off the floor. Inside he recognized his Æld’s handwriting; she had left behind her book of Rituals. The thoughtfulness of his mother touched his heart and he found tears finally springing to his eyes. Brogan fell to his knees to ask for Moradin’s forgiveness and to thank Him for his family’s love and the strength to do what was right, even if it had been hard for them. After a few hours of prayer, Brogan found that he felt lighter in his soul and closer to his god. He knew that he had reached a great milestone in his life. As he got to his feet, he decided to embrace being cut off from his family. He knew that the Goldspinner name was known far and wide and he didn’t want people giving him favors because of the clan name, so he decided that he would be known as Brogan Lonehammer from that day forward. No one, other than his own clan, would recognize the designs in his beard for what they were, so he could safely keep that close to his heart, just as he did the memories of his family.
The next two years he worked hard in town to build a place for himself within the Keep of Vigilance. He endeavored to learn more about the benevolent gods worshiped by the other races, and in a spirit of respect, taught them about Moradin. He also worked hard to ease the suffering of people within the city, using his healing to aid those in need. A little each day, he worked with the city militia, training with them and training the new recruits, while improving his own prowess with his hammer. Finally, he had earned enough money to get a small room of his own above a smithy. It helped him to feel closer to home, but there was still a longing inside for his clan, which had been instilled in him from a young age.
Over the next few years in town, he grew to know others like himself with adventurous hearts. In their first under-taking together, they slew a young white dragon and took his claws to make matching necklaces. From that time forth they became known as the White Talons and received a Charter for their heroic efforts from the Council of Elders in Everlund. They worked together well and had many adventures; the most memorable was being able to keep a cult of Orcus from bringing their dread god to the prime material plane. Unwittingly, Brogan had begun creating a little clan of his own, drawing in friends from different races and backgrounds. He’d been taught in his youth that no dwarf was ever complete without his clan, and now he saw what he had unconsciously done. As the group grew closer, he didn’t regret a moment of it.
When the Spellplague struck in 1385 DR the White Talons strove to help the world deal with the cataclysm that followed. They fought day and night to alleviate the suffering of the people around them… but they worked themselves into exhaustion. Months later, when the state of emergency had passed, the group found that they were burned out. The group decided that it was time to settle down and get on with their own lives. One by one, they all went their own ways until Brogan was left alone in Everlund. As much as he loved the city, there were too many poignant reminders of his distant companions and he soon took to the road, leaving behind the shrine to Moradin that he had so lovingly created and tended.
Many years he traveled, seeing most of Faerun. At one point, he had returned to Silverymoon to resupply and to take some time to rest in the “Gem of the North.” While he was walking the city, he came upon a group of youths beating up a young Half-Elf. The cleric interceded and chased the other youth away. He bandaged up the Half-elfling and learned that his name was Lucan and that he was homeless. He learned that the boy had lost his parents at a very young age and that he’d been living on the streets ever since. Brogan took the boy home with him, fed him, bought him new clothes, and even spent the next few weeks teaching him how to defend himself so that he’d never get beaten up again. One night while he was dozing, he heard Lucan get up and go out on the balcony of the inn where they were staying. Soon, the soft strains of a mature voice drifted on the autumn winds. Entranced, the dwarf could only lay there and listen to the heart-rending lament of this young Half-elf who had seen more than most had at his age. In his heart, he knew that he’d found the calling for this young boy. The next morning he approached the Master Bard at the House of the Harp, the bardic college to see if he could enroll Lucan there to help him build his talents. He left a considerable amount of gold with the Master to pay for Lucan’s education, and promised to return often to settle any new debts. Lucan was overjoyed to learn that he could go to school to become a bard. Every time that Brogan checked on him, he found the Half-Elf growing in statue and in talent beyond imagining.
He had many other adventures and made many new friends over the years. One of the most memorable moments for him occurred 15 years ago (1464 DR). During his many travels, he was crossing the Crags on his way to Luskan when he happened across a Drow and a Dwarf traveling together. That in and of itself was strange enough until he recognized them as King Bruenor (who had supposedly passed away 55 years previously) and his friend Drizzt Do’Urden. That night, as he supped with them, they explained that Bruenor was involved in his final quest to discover the lost Dwarven city of Gauntlgrym. They readily agreed to let him accompany them and they explored together for the next four years. Since Bruenor’s adopted son, Wulfgar, had passed away some years previous, the dwarf king felt that his life’s creation needed a new owner. Bruenor had grown to trust and love Brogan as a brother, so he gifted the great hammer Aegis-Fang to him.
As time wore on and their failure weighed on them, tension was straining the trios friendship and Brogan decided that it might be best to leave the pair to their route. He left them with great sorrow and was in Neverwinter a year later when Mount Hotenow blew and destroyed most of the city. Once again his clerical abilities were used to lessen the sufferings of others while his knowledge was put to use in rebuilding the city.
Once things had settled down, Lord Neverember hired adventurers to head down into the caves around Mount Hotenow to find out why the great mountain had blown and whether the continued earthquakes meant that it might blow again. Brogan hired on with this group and there he met Katia for the first time. As well as a few others, they dared to venture into the dark tunnels around the Crags. For weeks they fought the creatures that had been stirred up by the volcano, working their way deeper and deeper into the Underdark, fighting to keep their feet with every earthquake that shook the mountains around them. During one particularly strong quake, the ground dropped out beneath the feet of Katia and Brogan and they plummeted into the darkest recesses of the underground, completely separated from the rest of the party. They never learned what happened to them, but Moradin preserved their lives. When we came to, the Druid and the Cleric began searching for anything they might recognize in the gloom, but they had fallen far and the mountain had closed back up above them. During their search, they stumbled into a group of Mind Flayer Thralls. Compassion overtook them as they approached a tall Goliath youth, mining the walls for his masters. Katia did everything she could to awaken him, while Brogan kept watch, but to no avail, they had him too thoroughly under their control. The blasted tentacle faced creatures must have sensed the two of them in their area and two of them came to find out what was going on. Katia and Brogan had the element of surprise and were able to kill the Illithid before they could make them into thralls as well, but they knew that the monsters death throes would bring more of their kind. The Elf and Dwarf grabbed the Goliath and ran into the dark, trying to put as much distance between themselves and the Mind Flayers as they could. Once they felt sufficiently safe, they found a small, defensible alcove to rest and recuperate in. The cleric called on his god to heal and nourish the youth. As his strength returned, so did he slowly return to his senses. They learned that his name was Dahveet and also learned the tragic tale of his tribe, who might still be thralls of the Mind Flayers. As a group they decided that it would be wiser to try and find a way to the surface so that they could resupply and then try to return to free Dahveet’s people. It was many more weeks and their supplies were almost gone before they finally saw the light of day and rejoiced. The trio returned to Neverwinter to report their failure to Lord Neverember and to resupply.
Katia had no desire to return to the Underdark, which had taken her too far from the nature that she loved. So the Half-giant and the Dwarf returned to the underground together, their friendship and respect growing as they got to know each other better. With some trouble, they were able to retrace their steps, fighting many monsters and natural traps along the way. Their trust in each other and reliance on the other’s skills kept them both alive as the Underdark threw everything at them that it had. They finally found where the Mind Flayers had once lived, but the finely crafted caves had been abandoned and there were no signs of them or their thralls, beyond the bones picked clean by predators that had moved in. Disheartened they kept searching, but as their supplies began to run low they knew that they’d have to return to the surface and listen for any rumors of other adventurers which might have stumbled across the Illithid. They returned to Neverwinter, but as the political intrigues and power struggles in the city began to wear on them, they left to explore the rest of the Sword Coast.
A few months ago, Brogan and Dahveet had been back in Silverymoon when Lord Methrammer Aerasumé had called them into a private audience. The Lord explained that something was stirring up the trolls in the Evermoors but that the city was currently embroiled in an internal conflict and he didn’t want to inflame that. So he asked Brogan if he could collect a group of adventurers to quietly deal with the problem so that he wouldn’t have to have any of the Silver Guard far away from Silverymoon in case fighting broke out. Brogan agreed and he and Dahveet immediately began contacting their friends in the region; Katia, Lucan, and <chris> all responded to his summons and the party rode out and deal with the trolls. They couldn’t find any reason for the trolls to be leaving the Evermoors, but the Druid admitted that something wasn’t right that she couldn’t lay her finger on. After they had completed this adventure, Brogan invited the group back to his house in Everlund so that he could feast them. There they stayed a few days, eating, drinking, and catching each other up on their adventures while they were apart. The peace and the general feeling of camaraderie were precious to Brogan, but this peace wouldn’t last for long…