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Kenner
Draxim
Posts: 68
(10/28/02 9:06 am)
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Draxim
Description and additional notes:
Age: 42.
Height: 4' 4"
Eyes: black
Hair: silver
Clothing: leather jerkin (or maybe work of art) made by the dragonewt noble Utama, with black bone buttons and square opals stitched into the collar. Sandwiched between the leather exterior and cloth interior of the jacket is a layer of impossibly thin and flexible chainmail forged with runemetal. Draxim's armor is tooled on the front and back identically, with a giant onrushing charcoal gray bull's head on a field of dark blue. The head is embellished with spirals and other flourishes. The horns of the bull extend to points at the shoulders, and the large eyes made of a type of highly polished black stone that has faint red streaks that seem to shift and swirl about. The varied blues and grays of the armor are more than casually reminiscent of a storm, and in fact the colours swirl and shift at a rate proportional to the activity level of the wearer. When Draxim swings about with a couple of practice combat maneuvers, the "storm clouds" swirl angrily, and the eyes brighten slightly. When still, the "skies" become brooding as if gathering for a coming storm. In darkness, the charcoals and blues blend together even more, owing to the similar intensity of the colours used by Utama. This effect makes the armor well suited to stealth operations despite its elaborate design.

, Dark Brown cloak, Worn dirt colored boots, dark green traveller's outfit. Ubiquitous, dusty blue hanky.

Accoutrments: Masterwork Light Crossbow, bolt satchel, a small, but finely crafted leather toolcase strapped over one shoulder, he carries a giant 2 handed sword made by the Duergar that is easily as long as he.
His pack is gigantic, and would be a challenge to carry over any distance for two lesser men. It has all kinds of things strapped to it, making Draxim look like a flea market on legs, as he tromps wherever he is tromping too. When the pack comes off though, Draxim is surprisingly agile and quiet, the legacy of shady dealing on the streets of Dobrug.
He tends to smell like ground metal even more than the average dwarf, no doubt from his years "modifying" jewellry for the fence that he used to work for.
Somewhat ordinary looking for a young dwarf except for the prematurely silver hair and beard (which is a bit thin by dwarvish standards, but very full by human's). He has the usual bulbous facial features that make the typical dwarf ugly. He is also not the sort that makes the dwarvish women swoon, and has resigned himself to most likely never marry. His average intelligence and weak will manifest themselves as a very undwarven childishness and gullibility. He is inquisitive though, and reacts well in crisis, but often second guesses himself later. He is in tune with his physicality, and understands its value. Those that have known Draxim even for a short time note that he has hardened quickly and appears to be coming to full maturity. In addition, the ardors of the trail and frequent battle seem to have honed him into peak physical shape.

Edited by: Kenner at: 10/9/05 1:27 pm
Kenner
Draxim
Posts: 1436
(10/20/05 9:51 am)
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Draxim's Background, and how he got here.
Draxim was raised amongst the dwarven community of Dobrug where his father taught him fighting and his mother taught him jewelry making. He tired of these things, and quickly became a trouble maker, mostly due to his father's borderline abusiveness and alcoholism. His older brother was also a trouble maker and was hung for larceny, and Draxim slid into his footsteps without realizing it. His father caught him with stolen property, and rather than reporting him or covering it up, he exiled Draxim from his home and community.

A life of petty crime ensued. Draxim was chiefly an enforcer for local gangs but he did branch out a little into other areas. Notably, he often worked for a fence by modifying stolen jewellry so that it could be easily resold. Draxim, upon reaching his true majority, had a spiritual experience which forever changed his life. He resolved to steal no more (at least where the rule of law is in effect), and to fight Chaos wherever it roams. The truth is that there is still a very large part of him which seeks wealth due to his upbringing, and later adult experiences. Thus, he is still prone to stealing, but only in the sense that adventurers steal from baddies, since they are evil and don't deserve it. He is pretty much unaware of these tendencies.

The Dream:
One night after pilfering a lovely bit of slightly moldy cheese from a less than aware merchant, Irespike appeared in a dream wearing the form of an elf.
"You are the balance of trade!" he intoned.
Urox then appeared in the form of a dwarf and swiftly decapitated him with a Great Axe. He than raised an eyebrow.
After awaking, and being superstitious, he decided that his father was right, he should have taken up martial training after all. He wished his father hadn't been eaten by a Broo while visiting family along the Nral river, so that he could tell him. He would have been so pleased.

Draxim sold his rope and thieves tools, and invested in leather armor and jewelers tools. He was promptly robbed of all his remaining gold by his disgusted cohorts in the underworld, who nonetheless took pity on him and left him a few silver to eat with and his other possessions.

Draxim drifted unceremoniously out of his home town of Dobrug. His banishment from the dwarven community by his father had died with him, but Draxim found he just wasn't welcome there any longer. The other dwarves found him more than a little peculiar, what with his talk of strange dreams and all. Work, too, was hard to find these days, so Draxim left seeking greener pastures and some Chaos to fight.

A week passed and Draxim's wealth continued to slip away on food, boarding and ale. The quiet countryside along the coast road between Dobrug and Thasvara was frustratingly devoid of wealthy bad guys to slay. Then he met Ruig.

Munching away on a joint of mutton in a roadside tavern, Draxim overheard the deep, gruff voice of a dwarf at a nearby table. It had a bucolic accent to it, but remained fairly articulate. The fellow was interrogating (or nearly so) one of the locals about something that seemed to have occurred on the man's property.

"You say you saw lights. What kind of lights?"
Mumbled answer.
"And they came up from the opening? At night or during the day?
Mumble.
"Has anyone else seen it?"
Mumble.
"And the crops have turned black you say. Like a withering or just in coloration?"

This continues for a minute or so, and Draxim slowly turns in his chair without realizing it, straining to hear something of the farmer's answers. Ruig notices.

Speaking in Dwarvish: "You there. Grab your weapon and stand before the shadows of Chaos, or go back to your mutton. The land needs fighters not gawkers."

"Now I understand! All the travel and hardship that I suffered was necessary to lead me here." Draxim mutters under his breath. Grabbing his Morning Star up from the bench next to him, and sliding the mutton into a hidden pocket for later, Draxim stands and takes a few slow steps toward the two. He nods slightly and says (in dwarvish), "And how may I be of service in the fight against Chaos?"

Ruig then hired Draxim and after a short battle in which a blackened festering chaos trench had opened up in the ground and started emitting skeletons, the two of them met the rest of the companions at Grugni's house.

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