About Luca ShatterstoneBackstory:
Luca snarled as her father's hammer caved another of the human's heads. Covered in blood and gore from over a score of felled enemies, the priestess cursed the intolerant king these curs served for the thousandth time since they had laid a siege of her clan's home. Clan Shatterstone, for the first time since the founding of Dovan-Dur, the massive complex of caverns, rooms, and tunnels that the clan called home, was forced to engage the enemy within their walls. The fighting had lasted for half a year now, the dwarves making the humans pay dearly for each inch of ground they gained.
The fighting, however, had also taken its toll on the dwarves of Clan Shatterstone. The clan had boasted over ten-thousand members, a full third of them trained and hardened for battle. Now? Now the clan had less than three-thousand, and of those, only a scant two-hundred could be mustered to fight the advancing human army. Luca's father, and her mother, and her brothers had all fallen in the fighting. Now it was her turn. Fifty of the clan's fighters, those with the least to lose, had stayed behind while the others fled into the deep caves beyond Dovan-Dur's protection. All Luca had left was her two younger sisters, twins just now coming of age. Barely three years separated them, and as much as it pained her, she would not see them again in this life. Others, those who still had most or all of the families, or were too injured to fight, left to guard what was left of the once proud clan. And now, Luca found herself and forty-nine of her clansdwarves tearing into the unending tide of humans with a ferocity that came from anger, grief, and love. Love for those that had fled fortified their resolve. They didn't have to win, they only had to make the humans pay dearly for their deaths. The battle raged on, for one hour, then two, and the humans still came to meet the dwarves. They came, and died on dwarven swords. They died, lungs and heart crushed and ribs splintered by dwarven hammers. They died, impaled and screaming on dwarven spears and pikes. They died, heads and torsos cloven by dwarven axes. As the third hour neared it's end, a dwarven death cry rang out above the clangor of steel meeting steel. It was Fenrar, who's deep voice boomed with all of the fury of an avalanche. He did not go alone, cleaving another five heads after the fatal blow was struck. A few moments later, another cry rang out. Ol' Thora, a wiley dwarven woman that volunteered to stay behind and buy the time needed for her children, and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren to escape. Her shrill curse split the air as she mauled her murderer with the last of her strength. Then another, and another, and another cry sounded as the humans finally began to overwhelm the ferocious dwarven rear-guard. By the end of the fighting, nearly two-thousand humans lay dead, and a bare twenty of the dwarves still breathed. It had come at a steep price, but the dwarves had done it. They had bought the time their kin needed to escape. A war-horn echoed up the passage Luca and her fellows had been defending. A loud bellow followed. "Victory is ours! The rats are dead or captured!" Luca, and the others found that they couldn't look away from the passage. Their eyes begged for the fears that welled up at the pronouncement to unfounded. Their mouths spilled out denials and prayers against those same fears. The first human crested the slope that lead into the deeper caves and tunnels beyond the bounds of Dovan-Dur. In his hand was a chain, and Luca began shaking her head in denial. He had to be leading some beast. He had to be! They couldn't hope to catch dwarves fleeing underground. Her heart froze and sank as the man hauled on the chain, snapping it taunt and pulling two young dwarven girls into view. Two girls, on the cusp of adulthood, that shared the same appearance. Two girls that were built along the sames lines as Luca, thin, almost fey-like with snub-noses and hair like spun copper. Luca's legs pushed her up and forward as she began to sprint to where her sisters had fallen, calling their names even as her heart ached from the crushing weight of despair and failure. A sharp pain in her back, and another in her side sent her crashing to the floor. Luca looked up to see two of the humans with the butts of their spears trained on her leering over her. "Stay down an' keep quiet, tunnel rat, iffen ye knows what's good fer ye's," one of them said before moving up and kicking her hard in the stomach, sending her tumbling into the legs of one of the men's officers. Cruel gauntleted fingers twisted in Luca's hair and hauled her painfully to her feet. "Watch," he growled as he hauled her up so that her toes barely brushed the stone floor. The humans lead the procession by the dwarves that had remained behind to cover their kin's flight. More than one of the stalwart warriors burst into open weeping as the utter futility of their actions was laid before them. The line of dwarves in chains, many with tears staining their faces or even still streaming down, stretched on and on. Luca felt herself give into despair as she noted the numbers. Twenty-five-hundred of those that had fled were paraded before them. The humans hooting and hollering. The dwarves looking on in silence, in hopelessness. To see so many of their kin chains nearly broke them but that was not the worse of it, for next came the rest of the humans, holding up pikes adorned with the heads of the rest of the dwarves. The hundred fifty fighters that had gone to protect the fleeing clan had been slain to a dwarf, and their heads were not the only ones to adorn the humans' pikes. Those of healers, children, sages, and others that posed no threat had been added to the grisly display. Nor was the display only heads. Luca's body trembled in impotent rage and horror as she saw the limp bodies of infants and toddlers on no less than dozen spears. Finally, the macabre parade ended, and Luca, her head pounding from being held aloft by only her hair fell to the ground as the officer released her with a cruel chuckle. Luca lay there, unable to weep, or scream, or cry out in rage, or even move. All the young dwarf could do was tremble as the last of her resolve crumbled under the cruel laughter of the humans. --- Luca tumbled to the wooden floor as her handlers roughly shoved her into the room. A wizened old man sat behind a small desk off to the side, recording the proceedings. For what, Luca didn't care. She'd stopped caring the night only a few days after her clan's fall when she had been torn away from her sisters. It had been made clear that she'd never see them again, no matter how long the three of them might live. The woman behind the massive, slab-like desk in front of her was only mildly more interesting. She was probably the one that had bought Luca. The dwarf's gaze fell away to her battered arms. She didn't know how long it had been since her clan had finally been overrun, but she did know that the time since then had not been kind. Her once lustrous, silky hair, the color of burnished copper, had been hacked short, barely covering the tops of her ears, and had faded to a dull auburn. Her cherubic cheeks were now hollow and sunken. Thin frame was gaunt, making her look less like a dwarf than a tall gnome. Her clothing was little more than rags kept together by cords. Her skin, and occasionally her small clothes, showed through the holes and tears in in the once fine, tough cloth. Bruises covered her arms, legs, and back, testaments to the beatings she received. They'd taken everything but her life, and the small glimmer of faith she clung to desperately. Her hands, bound by heave manacles that blocked her connection to the Forge Father with sickening, twisting runes, reached up absently to the mark on her right shoulder. It was a birthmark, a holy one in the shape of Torag's hammer within an anvil. Circling the anvil were dozens of prayers written in ancient dwarven runes. Luca knew each of them, and the small part fo her that still clung to her faith began chanting one of them, a prayer of mourning and vengeance, in her head. "Stand," the human woman, with sharp, beautiful features and finely cut clothes, commanded. Luca, spirit badly beaten, and nearly broken, obeyed, though her dull gaze remained on the floor. "Look at me," the woman commanded again. Luca, unable to muster the will to resist the command, obeyed. Eyes that had once appeared as brilliant as any sapphire, and flecked with specks of emerald and silver, slowly rose to look at the woman. Those eyes, once brilliant, were dull. Hopelessness had sapped them of their splendor and some of their color, appearing dull navy with specks of dull, dark green and gray. For a moment, Luca stood there, looking upon the woman she was sure would soon be demanding to be called master. Instead, Luca cried out in pain, her voice cracking from disuse as she fell in a heap. She'd never heard the whip's crack as it cut across her back, sending pain exploding along her spine. The whip cracked again, and Luca curled up, trying to shield herself and keep herself for screaming as agony rolled up and down her body. That is when she heard the chuckles, from the guards, the scribe, and the woman. "Know this, Luca of the Shatterstone Clan," the woman said softly, but with a voice cold as any ice, "You will obey me without complaint, and without fail. You will work the mines for the glory of the kingdom. You will not look upon me, ever. Finally, you will live only as long as I suffer it. Is that clear, tunnel rat?" Luca almost answered, but the small part of her that still clung to her faith also clung to her pride. She wouldn't answer to tunnel rat, ever. The woman's face twisted into a sneer as she pointed to the guard with the whip. Another crack split the air and Luca screamed in pain as a second, then a third, and a fourth strike left their marks. "I said is that clear, tunnel rat," the woman snarled. Luca still refused to answer, even as she panted in pain. The whip struck again, driving the breathe from Luca's lungs. Each time she refused to answer, the whip cracked and another bloody slash was added to Luca's back. It was too much, the pain was too much, and Luca passed out, unable to scream, barely able to breathe. Some time later, Luca came to, held up by her arms by the guards to either side of her. "I'll ask once more," the woman hissed with deadly venom, "Am I clear?" Luca gasped for air and managed to get a wheezy, breathless "yes." "Get this tunnel rat out of my sight," the woman commanded. Luca was hauled down into the mines. No, not the mines. Her tomb. Crunch:
Luca Shatterstone Mountain dwarf fighter 1/oracle* LG Medium humanoid (dwarf) Init +1; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision; Perception +1 -------------------- Defense -------------------- AC 11, touch 11, flat-footed 10 (+1 Dex) hp 12 (1d10+2) Fort +4, Ref +1, Will +1; +2 vs. poison, spells, and spell-like abilities Defensive Abilities hardy -------------------- Offense -------------------- Speed 30 ft., mountaineer -------------------- Statistics -------------------- Str 17, Dex 13, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 13, Cha 14 Base Atk +1; CMB +4; CMD 15 Feats Power Attack, Weapon Focus (warhammer) Skills Craft (armor) +2, Craft (weapons) +2, Perform (sing) +6; Racial Modifiers stonecunning Languages Common, Dwarven SQ mystery (flame), oracle's curse (haunted) Other Gear 150 gp -------------------- Special Abilities -------------------- Darkvision (60 feet) You can see in the dark (black and white vision only). Hardy (Ex) +2 to save vs poison, spells, and spell like abilities. Haunted Retrieving stored gear is a Standard action or worse, dropped items land 10' away. Low-Light Vision See twice as far as a human in low light, distinguishing color and detail. Mountaineer (Ex) Retain Dex bonus on narrow/slippery surfaces, immune to altitude sickness. Power Attack -1/+2 You can subtract from your attack roll to add to your damage. Stonecunning (Ex) +2 bonus to Perception vs unusual stonework. Free check within 10 feet. Mountain Dwarf:
10 RP Humanoid: Dwarf
Flexible (2RP) +2 Strength, +2 Constitution Hardy (3RP)
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