Psionic Dwarf, King of Darkot, Bad @$$ MotherF&*ker
Fighter 1, Psion 12, Meta-mind 4
AC- 14 STR-
HP- 101 DEX-
Born in the Great Northern Reaches of Faerun, Thiazzi left home a t a very early age in order to discover himself. He traveled the continent aiding those who could not defend themselves against tyrants of any scale, never staying anywhere long. His travels lead him to Elmsville where he joined An ugly old human and unreasonably beautiful elf in an adventure that would change all of their lives forever. During their escapades Thiazzi befriended and eventually succeeded Luri DiMuri, great King of Darkot.
The Advent of Thiazzi Kor
Thiazzi Kor was born to the world deep in the heart of Thazen Krag, a magnificent Dwarven keep deep in the northern most Mountains known to man. A Theocratic People, the Dwarves of Thazen Krag kept to themselves, and their God, Moradin. Born the son of a high-ranking Paladin (because ALL warriors were Paladins in Thazen Krag) named Thanazzi Kor, Thiazzi was raised as a warrior, not a smith.
As with all young plebeians in the service of Moradin’s army, Thiazzi was sent on his coming of age trials out into the mountains armed with only a knife, a small pouch of rations, and an even smaller skin of water. The northern mountains are cold. The winds blow harsher there than anywhere in all of Faerun, the snow recedes some but never leaves. Naked, cold and hungry, Thiazzi followed his heart, keeping faith that Moradin would lead him to shelter, the skin of an animal and the meat of its flesh. Three days he wandered the Mountains of the northlands; his strength waned with each passing hour.
On the third day of his trial he took refuge in a strange cave. A cave he had felt calling to him. It was here his “heart” had been leading him, yet somehow he knew it was more than fate that had brought him there.
A day’s journey deep into the mountainside, Thiazzi came across a small opening roughly hewn from the mountain’s guts. There a strange figure sat at a fire, Thiazzi had never seen his like before. He had heard stories of these “men” secluded in wilderness; hushed stories to frighten children, fairy-tales of men having given over to the wildness that thrived deep within their souls.
The man was thin, he had a beard any Dwarf would be proud to bear (certainly Thiazzi would, having not yet passed his rites he had no beard) and seemed to be humming semi audibly. Thiazzi attempted to speak to the man, but he was shivering and his throat was dry. His desired nothing more than a blanket, a piece of meat, and a drink of water. There before him were a roughly tanned bear hide, a leg of what could only be mountain goat and a small goblet of water.
“You won’t need to speak to me, I understand your feelings and desires. Think it and it will provided you.” These words were not spoken, but understood. Thiazzi wrapped himself in the skin, devoured the leg of meat and consumed the water. He sat, bewildered, and began to learn.
The name and nature of the “man” was never revealed to him, nor did he feel the need to ask. They understood each other; they were the only beings present. There was no need to assign labels or monikers. Time passed, but Thiazzi could not guess how long he stayed with his mentor. He learned to unlock his mind and affect the world around him with a thought. His teacher was amazed at his abilities. Being trained as a young warrior, Thiazzi’s tendencies toward action were beyond any the telepath had experienced before. Together they were even able to imbue a simple mace with Thiazzi’s mind’s power.
Eventually, the need to return to Thazen Krag overtook Thiazzi, and he had to leave his teacher. No reasons were needed, none given. Both new this was what had to be. Wrapped in the skin he had sat in for time indeterminate, and provided with enough food to cover his journey home, Thiazzi made his return to the Dwarves of Thazen Krag.
He had been gone a very long time, so long he was assumed dead, deemed unworthy by Moradin to serve as his right hand of justice. Thanazzi had been disappointed and disgraced. He was removed from his rank of honor, stripped of his mightiest possessions and relegated to the foot soldiers.
Thiazzi’s return was deemed blasphemous. Neither his people, nor his family wanted him to come back. In an attempt to prove to his people the success of his trials, Thiazzi showed them the things he had learned to do with his mind. They were not impressed. Rather, he was pushed further to the sentence of heresy. Only an evil sorcerer or minion of some dark lord could have taught him these things no Dwarf had ever seen.
They were afraid to deal a death sentence upon the hapless Thiazzi. They feared bringing down the wrath of this new evil deity they were so certain he had turned to serve. They locked him up, eventually coming to the conclusion that banishment was the only option left to them. Fearing retribution, they sent him clothed in black, his evil weapon at his side. They allowed him a cloak and a helm, nothing more. From there he was sent out into the world to be dealt with how Moradin (or this new offending god) saw fit.
Distraught, lost, nearly broken, Thiazzi set out. He knew his gifts were not a curse from some evil deity, but a gift unlocked from his own mind. He was determined to show his people, all people the truth of his existence. He would travel the world, see places the cloistered keepers of the Krag had never dreamed of and use his gifts for the benefit of all Faerun. More to the point, he would do it not as the spawn of some evil lord, not a servant to any man or god, beneficent, malevolent or otherwise, but as Thiazzi Kor, Dwarf unto himself.