Petrune

Marek Ironblood's page

152 posts. Alias of Rune.


Full Name

Marek "Ironblood" Kvashti

Race

Tiefling (Daemon-Spawn)

Classes/Levels

Magus 8 (Fiend Flayer)

Gender

Male

Size

Medium

Age

20

Special Abilities

Death Knell 1/day

Alignment

LN

Deity

Nethys

Location

Varisia

Languages

Common, Abyssal, Infernal, Giant, Thassilonian.

Occupation

Sellsword, Giant Hunter

Strength 13
Dexterity 20
Constitution 15
Intelligence 18
Wisdom 13
Charisma 10

About Marek Ironblood

Marek "Ironblood" Kvashti
Tiefling (Daemon-Spawn) Magus 8 (Fiend Flayer)
LN Medium outsider (native)
Init +5; Senses Perception +5; darkvision 60 ft.
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DEFENSE
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AC 21, touch 15, flat-footed 15 (+5 Dex, +4 armor, +2 natural)
hp 54 (8d8+8)
Fort +8, Ref +7, Will +7
Defensive Abilities
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OFFENSE
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Spd 30 ft.
Melee Scimitar +13/+8 (1d6+5, 18-20)
Ranged Composite Longbow [+1] +12/+7 (1d8+1, x3)
Magus Spells Prepared
3rd level (3 per day, DC 17) - Greater Magic Weapon, Keen Edge, Vampiric Touch.
2nd level (5 per day, DC 16) - Bladed Dash, Cat's Grace, Frigid Touch, Mirror Image
1st level (5 per day, DC 15) - Corrosive Touch, Infernal Healing, Shield, Shocking Grasp (x2)
Cantrips (DC 14)- Detect Magic, Ghost Sound, Mage Hand, Prestidigitation, Read Magic,
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STATISTICS
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Str 13, Dex 20, Con 15, Int 18, Wis 13, Cha 10
Base Atk +6/+1; CMB +7; CMD 23
Feats Dervish Dance, Weapon Finesse, Weapon Focus (scimitar), Power Attack (bonus feat), +1.
Traits Magical Lineage, Giant Slayer (+1 trait bonus on Bluff, Perception, and Sense Motive checks and +1 trait bonus on attack rolls and damage rolls against creatures of the giant subtype).
Skills (48 skill points)
Fly +9 (1 rank, +5 Dex, +3 class skill)
Disable Device +8 (1 rank, +5 Dex, +2 racial)
Intimidate +4 (1 rank, +3 class skill)
Knowledge (arcana) +12 (5 ranks, +4 Int, +3 class skill)
Knowledge (dungeoneering) +8 (1 rank, +4 Int, +3 class skill)
Knowledge (history) +12 (5 ranks, +4 Int, +3 class skill)
Knowledge (planes) +15 (8 ranks, +4 Int, +3 class skill)
Perception +5 (4 ranks, +1 Wis)
Perform (dance) +2 (2 ranks)
Ride +9 (1 rank, +5 Dex, +3 class skill)
Sleight of Hand +8 (1 rank, +5 Dex, +2 racial)
Spellcraft +15 (8 ranks, +4 Int, +3 class skill)
Swim +6 (2 ranks, +1 Str, +3 class skill)
Use Magic Device +11 (8 ranks, +3 class skill)
Class Abilities Arcane Pool (10 points per day), cantrips, Improved Spell Combat, Knowledge Pool, Medium Armor, Spell Combat, Spellstrike, Magus Arcanas (Arcane Accuracy, Empowered Magic), Spell Recall
Racial Traits (Tiefling Daemon-Spawn) Prehensile Tail (can retrieve small objects as a swift action), Scaled Skin (electricity resistance 5 and +1 natural armor bonus), Skilled (Disable Device, Sleight of Hand), Spell-Like Ability (death knell 1/day)
Languages Common, Abyssal, Infernal, Giant, Thassilonian.
Favored class Magus (benefit: +1/4 to the magus’s arcane pool [8 times])
Equipment +1 Amulet of Natural Armor, mithral shirt (+4 AC bonus, +6 maximum Dexterity bonus, no skill check penalty, 10 lbs.), masterwork sawback cold iron scimitar (+1 to attack rolls, 4 lbs.), silversheen scimitar (+1 to attack rolls, 4 lbs.), pearl of power (1st), ring of sustenance
Other Gear bedroll, cold weather outfit, explorer’s outfit (5), cooking kit, heatstone, iron vial (10), flint and steel, ink, inkpen, masterwork backpack, pocketed scarf, traveler’s any-tool, waterproof bag, waterskin (2), whetstone, winter blanket, spell component pouch,.
Coin 278 gp, 8 sp, 8 cp.

Spellbook:

Standard Spellbook (43/100 pages)
3rd level - Greater Animal Aspect, Greater Magic Weapon, Keen Edge, Vampiric Touch
2nd level - [i]Bladed Dash, Blood Transcription, Blur, Cat's Grace, Frigid Touch, Mirror Image
.
1st level - Corrosive Touch, Enlarge Person, Expeditious Retreat, Feather Fall, Illusion of Calm, Infernal Healing, Shield, Shocking Grasp, True Strike, Vanish
Cantrips - Acid Splash, Arcane Mark, Dancing Lights, Daze, Detect Magic, Disrupt Undead, Flare, Ghost Sound, Light, Mage Hand, Open/Close, Prestidigitation, Ray of Frost, Read Magic, Spark

Mama Graul's Spellbook
4th - animate dead¹, contagion¹, dimension door
3rd - displacement, fly, ray of exhaustion, slow, vampiric touch, bestow curse¹
2nd - mirror image, spectral hand¹, ghoul touch
1st - chill touch, false life¹, grease, mage armor¹, magic missile, ray of enfeeblement, reduce person, true strike

¹= Spell not on the magus list.

Backstory:
"You only eat what you kill, dog."
The words ring in his head above the thumping drums of his quick-beating heart. The smell is overwhelming, that foul mixture of blood, rotten meat, sweat and piss. For a second the nightmare is more real than reality itself, its tendrils dragging him back to that hellish place. It’s been ten years since that boy escaped the giant’s captivity, but in some ways it’s like he’s never left that dark pit.
----
Marek Kvashti was born in a quiet night at a Varisian camp near the Old Light in Sandpoint. The crones pointed that the boy had been blessed by the ancestors, as he manifested a particular bright and clear birthmark in the shape of an old rune of power. Among a people known for their mystical traditions and mysterious lineages, his exotic traits (the birth “tattoo” and his steely-grey eyes) were actually appreciated as a sign of an important destiny.

Those very traits ended up giving him a special place in his Sczarni brethren’s schemes. The boy would be frequently used as distraction, performing small magic tricks to attract attention as thieves robbed spectator’s purses or infiltrated restricted places.

After a particularly lucrative heist in the city of Ilsurian, his Varisian band (including his immediate family and twenty-something close kin) had camped in a remote region, hoping to avoid that city’s defenders and outraged citizens. The group was awaiting the first snows to fall so they would be able to throw their pursuers off, but ended up attracting the attention of local predators: a nearby ogre warband.

The hulking creatures knew the region well, and attacked the camp during the night. Chaos and shouting ensued as a few unprepared warriors tried to fight the creatures long enough so others could flee. The Varisians were completely outmatched by the sheer bloodlust the creatures displayed, and although some managed to mount horses and run away, most were slaughtered. Those were the lucky ones, for a handful were captured by the creatures and brought back to their lair.

The screams would go on in random intervals, awaking Marek from his light sleep. It was dark in the pit where he had been thrown, and he could only hear the creak of wood as his captors went about their businesses. He recognized the all-too-familiar voices, although he wished he didn’t. For what seemed like days the boy waited his turn to come, and then it did. The stupid creature looked at the child with amusement as it tore his clothes out and readied the cleaver, but something made him stop at the last minute as he saw the boy’s birthmark. Some small measure of recognition passed the ogre’s eyes as it threw the boy back into the pit and called for the others.
They decided not to kill the human child, apparently wanting to use him for some other purpose. The wood would creak and protest, and the pit would be flooded with light as one of them appeared with a skin of muddy water. Some spoke to him, calling him “dog” and treating him as some sort of pet. And then they threw him the rabbit. It was still alive and scared, not that different from Marek. Ya only eat what ya kill, dog, the creature said. And so he did.

Time was beyond measure in the pit. It looked like years passed in the damp, muddy darkness. He would be woken by the creaking wood and his mouth would water even before they tossed whatever living prey he was supposed to eat. Then they took him out, a thick rope around his neck. The scraggy boy was given a rusted blade and thrown into a circle lit by weirdly-scented candles made of human fat. On the opposite end of the circle was another scraggy, almost feral boy holding a knife. It might have been a cousin sometime in the distant past.

Kill or be killed. Only one goes out’alive. the throaty voice said above some sort of profane chant. A fierce fight ensued, both boys fighting for their lives, but his cousin was apparently even more malnourished, and Marek had no trouble overpowering him. The long dagger found the soft spot below the boy’s ribcage, making its way into the heart. As the boy twitched, Marek could feel, could almost see the life running out of that body. And somehow he took it into himself, feeding on it and feeling a surge of power and strength.
The gods must’ve been watching somewhere, or fate has a good sense of timing, for in that moment a shout came in from outside. A group of adventurers, alarmed by the Varisians survivors, had come to destroy the ogres. There was a fight happening, and at that moment the feral child saw an opportunity arising. As the ogres bolted for the door, he toppled the candles and ran in the opposite direction. In the chaos that ensued, the ogres were fighting both the adventurer group and the fire, and Marek managed to slip away into the woods. That particular group of adventurers were never heard of again, but the Varisians managed to find the boy squatting on the ruins of their camp.

On the months that followed, the Varisians tried to get to the boy, but he was far too removed from reality. His eyes were open, but he didn’t notice anything, only eating if presented with food and forced to eat. And one day they found him with his wrists cut open, a jagged and small piece of steel lodged in the wound. When that happened for the third time, they knew they couldn’t handle the boy. The Varisians left him at Sandpoint, at the patient care of Ilsoari Gandethus, a retired adventurer that ran the Turandarok Academy for orphans.

Ilsoari noticed strange auras around the boy, and some arcane events happened around him. His attention only increased when Marek was found with his wrists open, a strange chip of jagged metal in the wound. After careful observation, the retired wizard ascertained that the boy wasn’t trying to kill himself, instead being the victim of some kind of arcane phenomena.

His research neared the profane as he tried comparing the runic birthmark to Thassilonian arcane runes and then trying to find an otherworldly influence comparable to the child’s traits. On the days following the strange ritual in the ogre’s den the boy had started to change slightly, his pale skin taking a pale, almost metallic, tone and offering resistance to cuts and bruises, and a slender tail grew out the small of his back. After many months of research, Ilsoari gathered all the evidence and came to his conclusions: The Varisian child suffered from a throwback to daemonic ancestors, specifically a crucidaemon, and the ogre’s actions apparently solidified that bond. That particular sort of daemon represented death by torture and traps, and as local Thassilonian sage Brodert Quink was quick to point, they were sometimes summoned to serve jailors and tortures in old Thassilon.

Unable to just let that daemonic influence take over the boy, Ilsoari went out of his way to teach the boy on manipulating magical energies, hoping that would allow him to control his decline into the profane. The wizard had met with mixed results: Marek showed great talent at handling arcane energies, but he flourished when dealing with elemental energies and seemed eager to learn destructive spells. After each new mastered spell he would have pleasant dreams where he returned to the ogre’s lair and lay waste on them with that newfound ability, and so the boy took to his studies with a dedication unrivaled by the other orphans.

The years passed as Marek grew from a child obsessed with his arcane studies into a young man thirsty for more power. He was always separated from the other children, for both sakes, and so he turned ever inward into his obsessions. The few moments he wasn’t learning spells and arcane knowledge were spent training with an old curved blade he had “acquired” from Ilsoari’s trophies. He knew the day would come where he would lodge that blade into an ogre’s skull.

And then suddenly it was over. The years had crept into him, he had reached majority and should leave the Academy. The old wizard had been denying him the more powerful evocation spells, trying to steer his apprentice into other paths, but only managed to achieve a frustrated student.

On that fateful spring morning, Marek thanked the man that had served as his tutor and father for the last six years and turned his back, hitting the road to Magnimar. In the years that followed he has worked as caravan guard, mercenary and adventurer, taking any jobs to support his arcane obsession. Past experiences have honed his unique fighting style, combining quick slashes with his scimitar and destructive evocation spells, to the point where he feels confident enough to try and find the ogre clan that imprisoned him and slaughtered his people. His whole life path led him to this point, and the magus does not care if it ends there. If he survives, though, he will probably need to find some other reason to live or be consumed by his hatred.


Description:

Marek is a slender athletic man, almost nondescript if it wasn't for his greyish hair and eyes and pale skin. The fact he wears a silvery chainmail and carries a curved blade by his hip doesn't help it.

Alignment and outlook on life:
Marek is extremely driven to his goals, avoiding most things that do not lead to that end. For most of his life that goal has been to acquire resources and kill the ogre warband that took his tribe and enslaved him. Almost all other situations fall into the background of this final scheme.