Azanul, level 1 Dwarf, Artificer Build: Tinkerer Artificer Background: Birth – Cursed, Dwarf – Outcast, Foundling, Early Life – Social Outcast, Scholarship Student, Occupation – Artisan
FINAL ABILITY SCORES Str 11, Con 12, Dex 12, Int 16, Wis 16, Cha 13.
STARTING ABILITY SCORES Str 11, Con 10, Dex 12, Int 16, Wis 14, Cha 13.
AC: 15 Fort: 12 Reflex: 13 Will: 14 HP: 24 Surges: 7 Surge Value: 6
TRAINED SKILLS Arcana +8, Heal +8, History +8, Diplomacy +6, Perception +8
UNTRAINED SKILLS Acrobatics +1, Bluff +1, Dungeoneering +5, Endurance +3, Insight +3, Intimidate +1, Nature +3, Religion +3, Stealth +1, Streetwise +1, Thievery +1, Athletics
FEATS Artificer: Alchemist Level 1: Master Mixer
POWERS Artificer at-will 1: Magic Weapon Artificer at-will 1: Thundering Armor Healing Infusion: Healing Infusion: Resistive Formula Artificer encounter 1: Shielding Cube Artificer daily 1: Obedient Servant
ITEMS Leather Armor, Hand Crossbow, Crossbow Bolts (40), Backpack (empty), Bedroll, Belt Pouch (empty), Flint and Steel, Hempen Rope (50 ft.), Climber’s Kit, Lantern, Oil (1 pint) (3), Trail Rations (10), Residuum (Any) (101), Alchemical Recipe Book RITUALS Brew Potion, Enchant Magic Item FORMULAS Tethercord, Clockwork Bomb, Woundpatch
My life has been hard o’ stranger. More difficult than most can dream, yet through the trials of my young life I grow stronger, maybe not in body, cursed as it is but in mind and spirit.
I was born to a middling merchant family of clan Mrlandin, in the dwarven capital city of DnZanulith, deep in the heart of the mountains there. From the moment I left my mother’s womb I’ve been different. Cursed some say, blessed say others. Well, only time will tell who had the right of it, and gauging my life to date I hold with the former. You can see what I mean, you saw me walk into this bar, maybe you haven’t seen other dwarfs, but I am by no means physically representative of my race. Oh, I’ve got the beard and of course I’m short, but you’d be hard pressed to wander my homeland and find a pure-blooded dwarf as short as I, or so thin. Well, I’ve been this way since birth.
My family sought out the wizards first, spending as much money as they make in years looking for a cure. Not one could do aught for me try as they did. My father, a scorner of most of our cultures religious beliefs, abased and nearly bankrupted himself trying to win over the help from the priests of Moradin. Capitulating to his heartfelt cries I was brought to them, and that’s where the whole debate began. The priests said I was blessed, that while physically I was deformed and weak if I could overcome the adversary of my limitations I would become a dwarf of legend. Many, they said, of our finest warriors, craftsman, and scholars had started out with maladies of the flesh or mind and overcame them. That the suffering and pain brought with it a greater understanding of self and that way leads great power.
Well I don’t know if I’ve got great power or not, but my father didn’t believe so. He swore at the priests, at my mother, at the gods themselves. He had lost his last hope for his 1st born son and heir, bereft of hope and wealth, he turned inward, wishing not of me or my mother. Her love for me was greater than his but she questioned the wisdom of keeping me. She knew the site of me drove my father to great extremes for what had happened and what was lost. Eventually, when I was three my mother became pregnant again. Another male carried to term but this one was as healthy and strong as any of our breathren, stronger maybe even. Well my father took one look at his second soon and proclaimed him heir, and only child. I was cast from my family and clan by his words, and his heart. My mother might have fought him over it, but she realized that with her second son so far above me in my father’s eyes it might be best to go along with it.
A friend of hers arranged for me to be raised a ward of the Arcanum Academy in GcIndilma, one of our distant cities to the south of the capital. Telling the Archwizard that I had been orphaned during a catastrophic trading expedition and that due to my deformities none others would take me in. Well, the old Archwizard of this particular school was a bit of a head case, who saw my malady and my predicament and decided that he would help, while at the same time study me to try and learn a cure for my illness and so earn himself a higher place in our histories.
I wasn’t favored by him, oh I spent many hours with him in times I can barely recall, but by the time I was 6 he gave up his research as a lost cause. I was allowed to stay in the Arcanum being brought up with more knowledge than the uneducated will have in their lifetime. Still I was an outsider. My malady left me chair bound and weak. Oh I grew out and my system seemed to be as strong as our race is told
to have, but I knew as did those around me that I would be small. A dwarf among dwarves you might say. Well the taunting and the bullying drove me further inwards. I studied, I learned. I found an affinity for contraptions and engineering. I was building small clockwork items before my 10th birthday, I outpaced all my classmates in every subject available.
When I was 15 my teachers discovered my arcane abilities and invited me to attend the Arcanum, as a full student. Knowing my story and my aptitude as they did, they granted me a scholarship that allowed me to study if I at the same time went to work for the school. I took the opportunity. I learned the ways of magic, of making, and of alchemy. I studied in the day and worked hundreds of odd jobs by night. Half way through my training I happened to be listening to an Artisan clockworker give a lecture on the future of mechanics. My interest and probing questions led Fandril to offer me an apprenticeship in his shop, in turn for my service he would pay the Arcanum the variance in my scholarship and tuition.
I suppose being an Artificer was a natural choice after that. I’ve got a greater understanding of clockwork than I do of magic but my study continues now in the real world. I’m here in Jherica to open a small shop. I’ll put food on the table making clockwork contraptions during the day and study by night. Who knows maybe I’ll even try and put some of my arcane teachings to practical use rather than research.
That’s my story stranger, well not so much now. I am Azanul, outcast scion of clan Mrlandin, cursed or blessed but lame either way.