Umbriak's page

Rage - 19/19
Spell Points 9/9
Blessings - 5/5 - DC13
Fervor - 5/5
Challenge - 1/1

By Dwarven standards Umbriak is huge, standing close to five feet tall. Although still shorter than most adults from other races, Umbriak is also twice as wide as the average human, with massive arms and a torso as long as a most humans. It’s the short legs of his kind which lead to his shorter height, and most of him is covered in thick muscles.

Umbriak has long hair and a beard, both of which he prefers to tie back and braid ’So as to not dip in anyone’s guts in a fight, ‘tis a shame when that happens and a pain to comb out again.’ Both are dark brown with more than a hint of red to them. His eyes are a heavy grey beneath the heavy eyebrows, and he has a large, crooked nose broken several times during battles. His skin is ruddy and noticeably darker than the typical Dwarf, even the smith’s whose time in the forges usually serves to brown them.

When at all possible Umbriak will most likely be wearing heavier armour, usually of fine make and bearing the iconography of his order and his house.. On top of it he wears a great helm, the front plate the visage of Dwarvern fury with it’s iron beard low to protect the neck crowned with a burnished copper flame. He is also often seen holding his huge greataxe, a single-bladed weapon with a long handle and a heavy bronze pommel. Runes run along the finely polished handle, gilded in bronze.

Noticeably, on those occasions when he does take off the armour, Umbriak has a series of glowing runes encompassed in flowing, delicate lines that run from the fingers of his left hand to the back of his left shoulder and the upper parts of his chest. They tell the story of his life and deeds to date, written in Fire Ink.

Umbriak has a deep voice and a noticeable brogue to his accent. He tends to smell as well as anyone who wears heavy armour tends to, and does wash regularly to try and avoid making anyone else pass out. When out of his armour and in other clothes he tends to favour brighter colours, usually blues and greens, ’As it brings out me eyes’, but almost never red or yellow, despite his affinity for fire, ’As it clashes with me hair something awful.’

By human standards, Umbriak is possibly insane. By Dwarf standards he is...different. He has a limited belief in his own mortality and, if he thinks it will make a good story, he will keep fighting. The filter that stops most people from saying whatever they’re thinking tends to only work sometimes for Umbriak, and he has at least once serenaded a foe with the song, ‘Underneath your clothes, I ken ye wear no panties’. It’s hard to know whether it was a clever battle tactic, luring an opponent to him, or simply his attempt at courtship.

Despite this, Umbriak is heavily focused on the traditions of Dwarfdom, at least as he sees them. He likes to wear heavier sets of armour, and one day hopes to acquire a set of Mithral Fullplate. He worships Angradd, the Dwarven God of Offense, and can be surprisingly cunning. Admittedly, he also tends to simply point himself in the general direction of the biggest target and go ballistic, but that’s often a very valid tactic.

The more Umbriak likes someone, the more he tends to talk. His conversations are often one sided and not always apparently connected to this time, or plane. In combat, once he enters a Rage, the full extent of his madness becomes apparent as he flings himself around the field, challenging foe after foe and screaming snatches of song, or sometimes just laughing madly and incoherently shouting. It’s a disturbing sight, especially when people are more used to the odd, slightly bumbling Dwarf offering to fry them a slice of bacon on the flat of his sword, ’Since it needs a wee bit’o grease to keep the rust beasties away, ye ken?’

Despite appearances, however, there is often a method to his madness. His insane threats sound just plausible enough to give an enemy cause to pause. His deranged taunts often draw more than his share of the enemies to his brutal axe’s edge. And the insane laughter often terrifies the weaker into fleeing altogether. And despite his desire for glory he doesn’t risk others in his quest. Combined with the moments of gentleness and clarity he occasionally shows suggests that at least some of it’s an act, but it’s never clear how much and to what degree.

He is also an exceptionally pious person, worshipping his entire life to the God Angradd. Indeed, his piety has been blessed with the powers of a Warpriest, which suits his savage demeanor to a tee while also giving him a chance to heal himself and his allies. No one was surprised when he showed abilities with flames, either.

And regardless of anything else, Umbriak is kind and generous to a fault. His quest for glory includes any friends, ’Who shall a grand stanza in me epic when it be done!’ and he stubbornly refuses to betray a friend or ally. He has stood between a mob and an ally, wearing nothing but a determined expression and a pair of boots. Which may have been reason enough to run away, really.

All told, Umbriak is an excellent ally, albeit it one who might share a little of his madness with you.

The Embersworn Clan hails from Dassen and were once the lords and masters of one of the small keeps that dot its mountainous borders, Frostfire Forge keeping a watchful eye on the neighbouring nations and any intentions to drive through the mountains and into Dassen proper. The Embersworn were especially proud of there own keep’s position, near the border of both Ragesia and Shalesti, near the Fire Forest.

In that pride they swore, in exuberant fashion, that nothing would ever bypass their keen eyes. When the Lord of the Keep spoke those words before the King in Bresk...well, he was told that he would be expected to keep them. And that no one would forget such a claim.

For ten years the Keep did as it had sworn, keeping their nation safe as they saw it. Even when Gate Pass was invaded, none from either side managed to sneak into Dressen. Only those with permission could enter, and only those did. The Lord of the Keep was well pleased with his work, especially once the little war ended and normality returned. With it, the vigilance began to drop as well. With Ragesia silent and Gate Pass free there was little need for concern.

Of course, there are more things in the mountains to consider than nations on the other side of them…

An especially large and unusually intelligent Ogre named Halftooth had been, for an Ogre, quietly consolidating the various families and tribes into something resembling a united band, through force of personality and force of force. One day, he decided he had enough, and launched an attack. 50 Ogres doesn’t sound like much, but with their ability to regenerate, their huge size and their there brute power it was more than enough for an unprepared populace. In theory, if the troops were warned to use fire and acid, it was possible they could have been driven off. If Frostfire Keep had seen them, or spotted the obvious signs of their passage...but they didn’t.

When the Hold heard of the attacks, the Lord rallied his warriors, and marched to war. It took weeks to finally catch the bulk of the band, and and in that time countless farms and smaller towns were ravaged and destroyed. Only when other Forts emptied and vast numbers used to surround the swift moving raiders were the Ogres finally defeated, and even then a small party, led by Halftooth, were said to have escaped retribution.

For the Embersworn, it was a hideous disgrace. It will never be known exactly what their punishment might have been, as before any comment or decree could be issued the Lord and his family left, leaving Frostfire in the hands of a lieutenant, with a single promise, ‘We will return when we have found our honour again. Watch for us, and all things.’

The plan was to head for Gate Pass, and from there travel until something could be found, something impressive enough in deed and a boon enough to Dressen to erase the shame of what had happened. As plans for, it wasn’t a bad one. It’s a shame that it never happened, however.

Halftooth, hurting from his injuries and the loss of his carefully cultivated forces, ambushed the Dwarves as they journeyed to Gate Pass. Bitter and angry, the handful of Ogres overwhelmed the small party. It should have been a complete massacre, but somehow, a few days later, one young Dwarf dragged himself into Gate Pass a bloody mess. He gave his name as Umbriak Embersword, Heir of Frostfire. A search party found the remains of his kin the mountains, and the remains of most of the Ogres, charred into ash.

How it had happened, Umbriak remained silent on.

The Dwarf was allowed into the city, with the equipment and gold he had managed to bring with him. He soon realized that he wouldn’t have enough, and tried to find work for one such as him. Many of the local Dwarves hired him for odd jobs - he was strong and surprisingly quick. But he was also...odd. Cheerful and friendly, certainly, especially for a Dwarf, but also proud and violent. A simple fight between young boys soon turned into a beating, the maniacally laughing Umbriak savaging humans twice his size. Only the lack of a weapon prevented bloodshed. Even his piety seemed to be almost savage, a quick prayer before the attack.

Much of his money earned by those small jobs went into a strong box he had rented, hiding away the best of the equipment he had inherited.. But he also a young man in a city with no roof above his head and no family. It was, perhaps, only a matter of time before someone took an interest in him. Not yet come into his full build and strength, the Dwarf equivalent of a young teen even if he was old enough to be an adult in human terms, Umbriak had no chance. They were looking for someone strong and tough for the experiments, although he never found out exactly what those were.

Umbriak was held for a year - fed and exercised by day, well rested by night. But in the evening...those were the testing times. His endurance was pushed as hard as it would go, by pain and mental tortures. Spell after spell was poured into his mind, overwhelming even the Dwarvern resistance to such things. And there were potions, injections and poultices that made his skin crawl. Some made him feel strong, and others made him throw up for hours.

Eventually, however, the Guard noticed people were going missing. One was tracked to the house the Cult, apparently dedicated to a minor Infernal being, owned. It turned into a siege, the Cult holding their prisoners hostage as they tried to wait the time it took for their mage to prepare the spells to escape.

The prisoners had other ideas. Breaking free, they killed the wizard in his sleep and caused enough commotion for the Guard to storm the building. The Guardsmen took the prisoners and examined them, but could find no hints as to what had been done beyond some runes inscribed in Fire Ink. As for Umbriak...Well, the oddness he’d had before was now full blown weird. He’d often talk to himself or laugh for no obvious reason.

Only in prayer did he seem to calm down, to lose the tension he’d been building up. Eventually he took Divine Orders, becoming a Warpriest to his deity, Angradd. It was not a surprise for many to discover he was the Dwarf Deity of aggression and fire. His religious studies seemed to help Umbriak quite a bit. It was not much a surprise, either, when he became involved in the Resistance. Umbriak had been in the city for nearly twenty years at this point, and was at least moderately infamous. And he wanted to help.

Of course, he also thirsted for the glory and honour it could bring him, defending this one small city against the might of an empire...and maybe it would be enough to fulfil his father’s vow. The tales of his past were tattooed down one arm, in glowing ink. It was time to add to it.