About Torvald RagnirTorvald Ragnir
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Feats
Traits
Skills
Languages Common, Elven, Dwarven
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Spells Known:
-Level 1 (2 + Cure spells)
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Metal Revelation (Steel Scarf) As a swift action, you can harden a scarf, sleeve, cloak, or other piece of your clothing into something as hard as steel that stretches out to be up to 30 feet long. You can then strike outward with it as if it were a weapon making a melee attack. For the purpose of this ability, you are proficient with this weapon. You can use the weapon to perform combat maneuvers. Make a melee attack roll against a creature within 30 feet; you may use Weapon Finesse with this attack. If you hit, the weapon deals 1d8 points of slashing damage + 1 point for every two oracle levels you possess. After this attack, the clothing returns to its normal length and hardness. You do not threaten an area with this weapon and cannot use it to make attacks of opportunity. You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Charisma modifier. Toughness You gain +3 hit points. For every Hit Die you possess beyond 3, you gain an additional +1 hit point. If you have more than 3 Hit Dice, you gain +1 hit points whenever you gain a Hit Die (such as when you gain a level). Warrior Priest You gain a +1 bonus on initiative checks and a +2 bonus on concentration checks made to cast a spell or use a spell-like ability when casting defensively or while grappled. Talented Blacksmith You gain +1 to Craft (Weapons) and it becomes a class skill for you. Missionary You gain a +1 trait bonus on Knowledge (religion) checks, and Knowledge (religion) is a class skill for you. If you cast divine spells, pick three spells on your spell list. You are particularly adept at casting these spells, so they function at +1 caster level when you cast them, and their save DCs (if any) gain a +1 bonus. -------------
Torvald is tall and strapping, and his handsome face is framed by a huge red beard that now has just a touch of grey in it. His body clearly shows a life spent at the forge, with numerous scars and burns all over the sunburned skin of his muscular arms, chest, and face. His green eyes burn with a zealot's fire. The effect given is one of indomitability, as though he had conquered mountains, and his presence tends to fill up a room. -------------
The heat of fire and the heat of faith are not terribly different. Torvald knew about heat, knew about fire, and knew most of all about steel. It was knowledge and respect of metal and of fire that made him a competent smith, and a boisterous good nature and tremendous red beard that made him a favorite of his fellow townspeople. If his faith was a little casual, well, his generosity and zest for life clearly marked him as a man who honored the gifts of the gods. His ties to the town were few: his sister had long ago left, married to a merchant in some city; his parents too were gone, his mother from being thrown from a horse and his father from heartbreak not long after. Yet he thrived in this home, among friends. It was a simple life, but he asked for nothing more. Perhaps it was carelessness, or too much drink and not enough caution, or simply fate that caused what happened. As Torvald worked one afternoon in the searing heat of a forge, young Ingrid Svensdottir ran into the smithy while playing with a friend. She slipped, crashing against the forge and somehow causing its base to shatter. The forge shifted and threatened to collapse onto the girl, spilling furiously hot charcoal and heavy stone onto her. Without thinking, Torvald tried to knock her aside with his leg and caught the brunt of the collapse. He spent the next two days haunting, and haunted by, dreams of the forge and of steel. When he awoke, he found that he had paid the price for his quick action: his leg was mangled, and had been horribly burned like young Ingrid. Brother Arik, a cleric from a nearby village, was able to heal the burns. Much to the cleric's frustration, his magic had not been able to heal Torvald's leg. The smith was left permanently lamed, his left leg awkwardly bent below the knee. Torvald learned to live with his injury, but the old Torvald was gone, replaced with someone reserved, bitter, reclusive. He continued to work the forge, but his heart wasn't in it. In the fires, he saw danger, as in the metal he saw power. His mind, too, had been changed by the experience, and it whirled now with knowledge he could not remember learning and a wanderlust he had never before known. Perhaps there were secrets yet to learn of steel and of fire. Perhaps there were truths yet to tell. And so one morning he quenched his forge, gathered his few possessions, and with the well-wishes of the town he left for parts unknown. He had no destination in mind, no goal other than to pursue the secrets that he had dimly grasped in the forge's metal, but his passage led him first into the land of Varisia. |
