Farak Ironsides's page

Farak Ironsides dwarf inquisitor (preacher) of Cayden Cailean 1
CN male humanoid (dwarf)
Init. +2; Senses: Darkvision (60 ft.), Perception +6 (+8 to see flying creatures)

Defense
AC 17, touch 12, flat-footed 15 (+2 Dex, +5 armor)
HP: 12 (1d8+3+1)
Fort +5, Ref +2, Will +4
Defensive Abilities: +4 on saves against spells and spell-like abilities; +2 on saves against poisons; +2 AC against flying creatures, and no high-ground bonus

Offense
Speed: 30 ft.
Melee Earth breaker +2 (2d6+3/x3)
Melee Rapier, cold iron +2 (1d6+2/18-20)
Ranged touch +2
Special Attacks: +1 on attacks against flying creatures

Spells (CL 1st; Concentration +3)
0th: Acid Splash, Detect Magic, Read Magic, Stabilize
1st (2/day): Divine Favor, Protection from Evil
Terendelev's Scale: Resist Elements (cold/electric only; 3 day)

Supernatural Abilities
Agile Feet [5/day]: As a free action, you can gain increased mobility for 1 round. For the next round, you ignore all difficult terrain and do not take any penalties for moving through it.

Statistics
Str 14; Dex 14; Con 16; Int 12; Wis 14; Cha 9
Base Atk. +0; CMB +2, CMD 14 (18 v. bull rush, trip)
Feats: Steel Soul
Skills: Intimidate +4, Knowledge (history) +3 (only for dwarven history; untrained), Knowledge (planes) +5 (+7 to identify abilities and weaknesses), Knowledge (religion) +5 (+7 to identify abilities and weaknesses), Perception +6 (+8 to see flying creatures), Sense Motive +3, Stealth +6 (+2 with scale mail), Survival +6
Traits: Exposed to Awfulness, Heirloom Weapon
SQ: Domain (Travel); Lorekeeper; Sky Sentinel; Judgements
Gear: Scale mail, Cold Iron Rapier, Earth breaker, flask with 1 pt. of dwarven stout ale, Terendelev's Scale (resistance), Potion of Cure Light Wounds, 9 gp
Languages: Common, Dwarven, Undercommon

The demon’s razor sharp teeth bore down on Farak, its emaciated skin dripping with blood. He felt its claw rip into his flesh, growling in apparent excitement at its good fortune at slipping past the wardstones. In that moment, Farak knew he was dead—until his father arrived, giant hammer blazing. He knew his father was a great warrior, but he had never seen him in action before. The grizzled dwarf moved with lightning speed, driving the demon back with a vengeful elegance. After what seemed like hours of back and forth (though it was surely minutes, or even seconds), his father was too quick for the demon, and placed a killing blow into the chest of his foe. Breathing heavily, his father turned toward Farak, taking a swig from his hip flask as he moved toward his son, panic no longer in his eyes. Farak could say nothing as the demon used his last breath to plunge a spear through his father’s back.

Farak awoke with a start in his bedroom at the dwarven camp, sore from head to toe.

A dream. Thank the Lucky Drunk it was only a dream.

As his eyes began to open, he saw the familiar symbol of Cayden Cailean hanging above his bed, and a calm set over him. That calm vanished instantly, however, as he noticed his father’s hammer leaning up against the wall. Looking around, he saw his father’s flask sitting on his bedside table, and his father’s rapier (the weapon of the god all in the dwarven camp held dear) sitting at the foot of his bed. It had not been a dream after all.

The demon attack had put Farak in a coma for weeks, his mother told him. His father had been buried properly as a member of the Dwarves of The Lucky Drunk, a brigade of dwarves who fought at the Worldwound in honor of Cayden Cailean. He had posthumously been award the righteous medal of valor for his defeat of the demon, and had received high honors among all of the warriors in Kenebres.

But none of this mattered to Farak—his father was gone, and the demons had done it. He wanted revenge.

Farak joined the Crusade as soon as he was back on his feet, and his passion has bolstered his resolve. He fought harder and for longer than anyone thought possible, and needed only look at the scars that covered his body to find the will redouble his efforts. His father’s hammer in hand, rapier at his belt, and flask at his hip, Farak was determined to avenge his father’s death by doing the only thing he knew—slaying as many demons as possible.

Lithe for a dwarf, Farak’s swiftness and energy surprises anyone who knows of his past. Scars span his body, including many covered by a face full of red hair. Never seen without a rapier on his belt and a flask full of dwarven stout ale, Farak seems more cheerful than his inner thoughts should allow. He loves only a few things in this life—the memory of his father, his god, the taste of ale on his lips, and killing demons. All of these loves both give him energy and haunt him, and finding a balance between them has challenged him his entire life, or at least his life after the death of his father.