A Warforged Warlord (Marshal), Member of the Brotherhood
Background: Occupation – Mariner
You worked on the galleon, the Seablade, under Captain Dolgrin Ironbeard. Your work in the crow’s nest, along with your work as general muscle on the ship, has served you well – it has taught you to be strong and observant.
Prestige Class: Captain of Fortune
You believe that a great destiny awaits anyone who has the audacity to take fate into his or her own hands. Self-awareness, confidence, and a sharp eye for opportunity allow a hero to reach a destiny, yet sometimes destiny needs a little bit of help. And that’s where you come in.
You teach your comrades and followers the principles of self-empowerment to help them reach for greater heights. You believe that someone who is alert and grabs opportunities as they come can triumph against any adversary. A force of balance is at work within the world, and fortune, fate, luck, or chance – whatever you care to call it – gathers around the bold like an invisible mantle. Fortune rarely smiles for long on those who prey on others or who stand on the side of iniquity; their day of ill fortune comes eventually. You intend to be there when it does.
Those you lead see you as a good luck charm. They feel empowered in your presence, believing that you have a supernatural gift that improves their chances. You, on the other hand, understand that luck is made, not found. You know that if luck and fate do guide the destinies of you and your friends, without the proper effort and outlook, those destinies will never be fulfilled.
The first thing you saw was his face. Covered in soot and grease, he was a dark-skinned human in overalls. He tapped on your metal exterior, causing you to twitch and jerk with his movements. Everything seemed to be satisfactory as he lifted his goggles, revealing dark eyes. “Speak, construct,” he said in a gritty tone.
“What…is…this…” you began to ask, trying to understand anything.
“Good start. Your name is Azm, construct. You are a warforged – a metal body with a living spirit. I am Mort, one of your creators. I created the structure in which your soul now lives.” Mort walked backwards and beckoned you to follow. And, much like a newly-born creature, you took your first steps into the world.
You were one of a group of fifty warforged built in the city of Hampstead on the island of Haven. Your group would be split up and sent all over the continent of Ethra; you and four of your companions would be closer to home, being shipped to Cor, the capital city of Haven. In Cor, you began your work on the docking district, hauling freight on and off of ships that took harbor on Cor’s shores. You worked for Reginald Gray, leader of Gray’s Freight, the most successful freight and cargo business in all of Cor. Reginald was a wiry, little rat of a man with white-gray hair and a sloping nose, and carried a silver swagger stick with him wherever he went. He saw you as being beyond low-class, driving you harder and harder every day. Warforged aren’t prone to exhaustion, but you think you might have gotten there once or twice. For a long time, you bore pock marks up and down your back where he beat you with the swagger stick.
This existence lasted for the first three years of your life – loading, unloading, beating…and, being a warforged, you never got the luxury of sleep. But things changed for you the day someone saw your plight. His name was Dolgrin Ironbeard, the Dwarven captain of the galleon, the Seablade. He was in need of some new crewmembers – he saw that you were built well, strong and capable, and your lack of necessity for sleep was a definite bonus. Dolgrin was also a kind man who saw that you were being abused. Through some coercing and coin, you were the newest crew member aboard the Seablade.
Working on the docks and being a sailor were two different jobs entirely. But you learned to cultivate a keen eye and good sea legs. You sailed up and down the coasts of Ethra, seeing the lands to the warm lands to the south and the frozen lands to the north. Dolgrin paid you well and tried you fairly. For nearly six years, you sailed under a fine and fair captain on a beautiful ship. But all was not to stay as nice. It was a trip up river to sell goods in the Sea d’Alviano when the Dread Captain Alexia Highwater and her crew attack the Seablade. The crew fought bravely, but, in the end, you were one of a few survivors left. Bound and hauled away, you became a prisoner on one of the Dread Captain’s ships. As what you might consider years later as luck would have it, you were onboard the Dread Captain’s flagship, the Clarion, when they attacked a merchant vessel bound from Ankuru to Shara. You heard the fight and its end. And it was the death of Alexia Highwater that turned the page in the book of your life.