Kelgar Frostbeard's page

Frostborn: +4 to saves vs cold weather environments, +1 vs spells with cold descriptor.

Warded Against Witchery (campaign): You gain a +1 trait bonus on
saving throws against the spells, spell-like abilities, and
supernatural abilities of evil arcane spellcasters, and a +1
trait bonus on Spellcraft checks to identify spells cast by
evil arcane spellcasters.

Not bolding speaking parts here, as the tail end is a LOT of speaking.

Brunwir folded her arms. Despite only being fifteen, she carried herself like a Chelish diplomat refusing to meet the terms of a Nidalese emissary.

“We’re not sleeping until y’tell us great granddaddy’s story!”

Kelgar sighed, lifting Skogi, his youngest son, from his shoulders and setting him upon the edge of his bed.

Brunwir persisted. “Plus it’s time. Skogi hasn’t even ‘eard it yet!”

Shaking his head in defeat, Kelgar knew this was a battle he would lose, for Brunwir possessed the determination of her mother when she set her sights on something that needed doing.

Kelvor, his eldest son, now full grown, had taken up a position in the doorway, leaning against it casually, clearly enjoying the warmth of their small home against the chill of a wintery night. He added fuel to the fire, “.. and father, once y’ retire, if something happens to me, it will be Skogi’s burden to bear. Y’might as well start him young with the tale, as y’did me.”

Kelgar held up his hands, he clearly needed to surrender and fast. “Alright lass, alright. I’ll tell y’the story, but y’must promise to sleep after. We have’n early mornin’ what with Skog’s first trip to th’ lake.”

His two youngest nodded their agreement.

“Alright, first ah need to set the stage fer th’ tale, fer it be a long time ago when th’ lands were less filled w’ men and were more filled w’ giant-kin.

“Our great, great, great – many times – gran’daddy , Kelnir – this was ‘afore he or any o’ us were known as Frostbeard – was a great warrior and a poet who lived up in Kalsgard right upon the very Rimeflow itself.

“This was a time o’ a great war, hundreds o’ years ago, when th’ lights o’ the north glowed so bright, they were brighter than even th’ sun. ‘Twas so cold, yer granpappy’s beard could freeze so solid, he could use it as an axe n’ chop wood for ‘is fire.

“As it were, Kelnir was fightin’ in this war, called th’ Winter War, with dwarf n’ man alike facing giant trolls so tall, they’d tower o’er ten dwarves standing on each other’s shoulders.

His youngest pulled his blanket up, as if to shield himself against the imaginary trolls. Kelgar smiled and gave him a nod, suggesting his decision to wield a "makeshift blanket-shield" were a wise one.

“Aye, a great many battles were fought o’er the years, and at th’ end, there was a battle so great, that it went on for weeks. When the last troll fell, y’ great granpappy was th’ last one standin’, his breathin’ so hard, it could almost blow the snow o’er the blinding plains itself.

“’E realized 'e were alone now, and was hungry somethin’ fierce. With no food, he began t’ wander, searching fer a survivor, a trail ‘e recognized – anything. Fer hours ‘e walked, his stomach growlin’ like a mighty bear.

“Finally ‘e saw somethin’ – a woman, naked as th’ day she was born. ‘E knew ‘e wouldn’t last longer, so ‘e went t’ her. But she fled. Thinkin’ she might lead ‘im to a village, ‘e followed as fast as ‘is dwarven legs could carry ‘im.

“And on t’went fer hours, days even if th’ story me pappy told me is true. Until at last, poor Kelnir collapsed, starved and exhausted. Then th’ woman came to him and spoke – her words like poetry and music. She spoke in a language Kelnir dinnae know, but somehow ‘e understood.

“I will give you food and drink she said – and heal y’wounds – but you must swear y’self to me, and y'must swear for all y'blood kin yet to come, for I need a warrior as true as y’self to undertake an important task o’ else the lands will be covered in an endless winter.

“Hearing th’part about a warrior, y’grandpappy agreed, and found ‘imself amidst a feast fit for a king. As he ate and drank, th’ woman explained her task.

“Queens will rule o’er th’ newborn land to th’ east, and y’must ensure that each queen’s reign ends and begins with grace. Yer eldest sons will carry this torch and pass it on to their sons, and their son’s sons, and so on. Good Frostbeard, as long as ye and y’kin carry this torch, th’Lands will be safe from another blighted winter such as this one, and y’sons and daughters never fear for the hunger and thirst y’did these cold days.

His eldest, Kelvor, coughed to himself in the doorway.

“Ah, so tha’s why y’daddy and y’oldest brother here spend so much o’our time trainin’. Every winter, an ice diamond bigger than m’fist shows up like clockwork, and provides for us. Th’ time for a new queen be comin’ soon, and if it’s as smooth as the last, y’father will be retirin’ soon and it will be y’brother’s turn to keep watch fer th’ next century, training ‘is eldest son like I’ve trained ‘im.

Kelgar smiled here, basking in the warmth of his children’s bedroom. They had fallen asleep long before he had a chance to finish his tale, but he finished it nonetheless. The words reminded him that he would soon be able to retire and relax in the same way his father before him had upon passing him the torch of their seemingly eternal vigilance to the east.

As he stood, he turned his attention to Kelvor. The lad was a good warrior with a strong arm and he would be seeing his first changing of the Queens of Irrisen. If lucky, he might even get to see a Rider as Kelgar once did over a hundred years ago.

As he closed the door and walked down the hallway, his son wondered aloud to him. “Father. Do y’ever worry anything will happen that we’ll be called upon for our duty?”

“Nah lad, tis been over a dozen centuries, and twas smooth as a baby’s bottom when Queen Elvana took ‘er throne. We have nothin’ to fear this time’ll be any different. Nonetheless, we’ll do our duty so our children and our children’s children are kept safe, just in case th’ story has an ounce o’truth to it.

Kelvor nodded to his father, and retired to his own room.

Kelgar placed a few fresh logs onto the fire before grabbing his nightcap and making his way down the hall. Brundir was fast asleep and snoring in a manner that he always found strangely soothing and more than a pinch attractive.

The old dwarf muttered to himself, absentmindedly, as he stretched his tired muscles and heard the familiar creak of old bones. Laying down, he pulled the warm sheets up to his beard, and smiled to himself.

“Ah, retirement - just one more year and ah don’t have t’worry about swingin’ th' ol' hammer no more. Perhaps I’ll take up writin’ or someth…”

His snores soon accompanied his wife’s and dreams of a blissful retirement filled with many grandchildren danced in his thoughts like a dozen snow fairies at a fancy fey supper.

Kelgar Frostbeard (121), Great Grandson (many times over) of Kelnir Frostbeard

Wife: Brundir (109)

Children: Kelvor (M33), Brunwir (F15) and Skogi (M11)

With copious numbers of Ulfen and winter witches or sorcerers both in the group and about as NPCs, I wanted an upbeat character to contrast and roleplay with these types.

Enter Kelgar.

I see Kelgar as one-part Bilbo Baggins - comfortable and warm in Bag End; and one part Danny Glover/Murtaugh from Lethal Weapon - on the brink of retirement and on the surface he's looking very forward to it.

If I'm reading the foreshadowing, there will be a lot of traveling to cold places. I wanted a PC who craved the comforts of his home and family, yet through duty is thrust into unfathomable conditions.

I'd expect as each chapter in the AP appears to have wrapped up, Kelgar will start to daydream and talk about going home where it's warm and comfortable, fondly describing his wife's cooking.

Then, copious "Are y'serious?!" moments for Kelgar as the next step in the AP is revealed, and he moves further and further away from the comforts of home. Yet, he will not rest until he knows his duty in preventing a "Second Winter" (or whatever the big scary evil "thing" in this AP really is).

Kelgar also thinks that if not for the dwarves tutelage over a millennium ago, the Ulfen in the region wouldn't have the slightest clue how to start a fire or forge a weapon on their own. He's not arrogant - in the slightest, it's just the lore that's been passed down in his family, and the idea here is that it drives him to stand shoulder to shoulder with Ulfen allies or companions.

Campaign Trait: Warded Against Witchery - a blessing bestowed on the eldest son of all Frostbeards since Kelnir's encounter with the mysterious woman 1400 years ago.

Appearance:

Standing 4'5" and weighing 172 lbs, Kelgar is your prototypical Kalsgardian dwarf. Over a century old, he has taken good care of himself through a practiced physical regimen, and actually appears several decades younger than his age (a fact likely only noticed by a keen dwarven eye). His long beard reaches down slightly past Kelgar's buckle, something he is proud of and insists "keeps him warm on the coldest nights". His steely blue eyes are a family trait passed down through countless generations, and a trait he shares with his three children.

Personality:

Kelgar is something of a "home-body", loving his wife and his three children and having grown quite comfortable in his small stone home in the southern part of Jol. Without a "regular job" to speak of, he has carried the duty born by generations of his family for the past hundred years with a disciplined regimen, and he knows his forefathers will not be disappointed.

In the recent years, he has invested more time into training his oldest son to take over for him after Queen Elvanna's rule comes to an end this year, as he is confident that much like a century ago, it will be a smooth and graceful tradition. He has already begun to drop hints to his wife and family about his preferences for his "retirement party" in the coming year.

With a fondness for his own home, and his own wife's cooking, he tends to grumble in the rare circumstance where he has traveled more than a day beyond Southmore. He will often take food prepared by his wife on these travels, and once those run out, he begins to become a bit more restless and judgmental about the quality of other food sources. After a few days, he begins to realize his boots are too stiff, his cloak isn't as warm as he expected, and a dozen other things that merit the attention of all present that are accompanying him.

However, Kelgar is a friendly dwarf - loyal and dedicated to those he considers friends.

I'm assuming by asking for "negative traits", we are simply listing traits of the character, without specifically using "traits" as printed in the rules - since there are no negative traits.

Positive:

Loyal - When Kelgar dedicates himself to something, such as his family his companions, or an oath passed down through generations, he is steadfast and loyal.

Practiced - Kelgar has kept to his routine, preparing himself in case something happens with the changing of the queens. He puts his armor on early in the morning, performs combat drills throughout the morning and afternoon, and doesn't take his armor off until after dark. As such, his armor has become something of a second skin, and he has no problems being burdened by a heavy load.

Negative:

"Grumbly" - Kelgar tends to complain about the small things. This soup isn't as good as Brundir's. The hearth should be larger so that it can warm the room better, like the one he has at home. How can he expected to do heroic deeds when eating cold rations?

Slow To Rise - Kelgar's been getting fairly comfortable the past few decades. He takes his time rising in the morning, brewing some coffee and slowly enjoying it by the hearth. He's not inattentive - he's dwarven, it takes him a while to build up his speed.

So the legend goes, "Icebreaker", a dwarvish crafted waraxe, was the weapon carried into the great Winter War by Kelnir, before he even earned the name "Frostbeard".

Embossed onto the lower half of the blade's edge is a snow-capped mountain range. As each Frostbeard has "taken the oath", he has replaced the axe's blade on a fresh shaft of roanwood, blessed by the head priest of Kalsgard's temple to Torag. After the ceremony, the weapon's new dwarven master is supposed to carve the number "27" into the shaft. For each troll or giant of the north he then fells over the next century, he is supposed to etch a mark into the shaft of his own. If any descendent of Kelnir ever surpasses his great, great grandfather's record, Icebreaker is supposed to glow brighter than the northern light, emitting a radiant flash, for the true inheritor of the Frostbeard legacy is now known, and the Day of Challenge is nigh.