Isagoras the Light's page

Weapons: Simple,
Armor: Med, Shields
Tools: None
Languages: Common, Orc, Goblin

0
-D--Light
-Sacred Flame
-Toll of the Dead
-Word of Radiance
-Guidance

1:
D-- burning hands
D--faerie fire
-Cure Wounds (d8+3, +d8/lvl )
-Healing Word
-Bless
-Prot Good and Evil

2:
D--flaming sphere
D--scorching ray
-Lesser Restoration
-Prot from Poison
-Silence
-Spiritual Weapon

3:
D--daylight
D--fireball

-Reviviy
-Protection from Energy

Class Features:

D

Channel Divinity

Feats:
Inspiring Leader
6 subjects, ten mins. + temp hp = Level + Cha mod

Armor:

Readied Items:

Trinkets:
(A backpack, a bedroll, a mess kit, a tinderbox, 10 torches, 11 days of rations, and a waterskin, 50 feet of hempen rope)

Scholar's Outfit (0 lb.)
Holy Symbol
Prayer book,
5 sticks incense,
vestments,

Magic:

Other Items:

Prof: Religion, Insight

Feature: Shelter of the Faithful

Trait: I’ve spent so long in the temple that I have little
practical experience dealing with people in the outside
world.

Ideal: Aspiration. I seek to prove myself worthy of my god’s
favor by matching my actions against his or her
teachings.

Bond: I seek to preserve a sacred text that my enemies
consider heretical and seek to destroy.

Flaw: I judge others harshly, and myself even more severely.

Diety: Thor, The Thunderer, God of Lightning, War, and Strength, Slayer of Monsters and Protector of Man, Husband of Sif, Patron of the Northlands Dwarves
LG
War

The wraiths came today.

The whole day was poofered from the start. Father had celebrated 20 years of trading with Lord Iryn Steelfist by securing an invite from the secluded yet prestigious Blackstone Tower. A coup, to be sure, and I had been excited to go, but the dwarves of the tower were not exactly known for their geniality.

On that day it started normal enough, but I was just having an invigorating discussion with brothers Goldspear and Iokor when some tumult erupted from the discussion hall next door. It turned out that the lout Retzaq was arguing vehemently with Highfather Jokiam about some foolish notion or other. All I did was say, "Gentlemen, let us keep our voices rational," and the whole lot of them blamed ME for the mess. Said I had no standing to voice my opinion and sent me to Fetch Water.

The punishment involves carry a half-dozen empty buckets to the river, filling them, and carrying them back. When back you dump the buckets into a resoviour and if you don't fill it, back you go! Also the river is three miles away. The day was shnockered for certain.

I tripped twice and twice had to go back re-fill my buckets, so I didn't get back until nightfall. It was night, you see, so I thought nothing of the fires and the smell of smoke until I came closer and saw the tower charred and wrecked.

I rushed to the central hall, and found the very dwarves I'd been conversing with attacked by a handful of dark, spiritual creatures. I called all the holy fire I could muster down upon them, but not quickly enough to save my compatriots.

None lived save the Highfather himself, and he was so injured he could but spit out two words before he too died.

"Lord Borak."

This was a name known to me. A horrible, cruel force of evil known only for the audacity of his crimes. Would that I had been here to show my mettle!

At last my quest was known to me. I care not where the four winds blow me so long as my steps encounter him before my last day!