The Dwarven Artificer
I remember the day I died...
The funny thing about a day that can completely change your life is that it starts just like any other day. You wake up, do the chores of the house, kiss your mother good morning. Stories tell us that days of tragedy happen in the darkness, on rainy days. On mine, the sun was shining across the fields. There was no forboding clouds, no ominous signs, no message from the gods. There was no major decisions to undergo any great adventure or to take on some great evil. There wasn't even knowledge from the local village that there was any kind of evil that needed conquering. Just a normal day.
It was a normal day, that is until the beast came through. I was young, not really a boy, but still far from a grown dwarf. Most of my kind would toil in the mines. It seemed my father had grown tired of digging for rocks, and found a peaceful life tinkering with gadgets and exploring mechanical devices, and perhaps most importantly, living above ground. This made us something of an oddity among my kind, but we were far from outcasts. We were still welcomed underground, and he would even occasionally be a middle man for helping to sell some of the minerals, or use them in some of his inventions. It was a simple life, a good life. We had just sat down for an evening dinner. The sun was approaching the horizon, much of the fields had already been placed in the mountain's shadow. But, if you stood at just the right place, you could still see the sun in the blue sky. We had barely begun to eat, when a darkness filled the house. Both of my parents were dead before anyone even knew what had happened. It was like a shadow moving through the house, swiping at their necks. Next, I saw my little sister go down. That's when I saw it, the creature. The beast. Fangs as long as my arm. Eyes as red as blood. The creature stood so tall, it nearly filled the small cottage. That was the last thing I saw before I collapsed, as well.
When I woke, I was in a church that was filled with bodies. Whether they were alive or dead was near impossible for my young mind to determine. If they were alive, they were in really bad shape. I couldn't see a scrap of cloth that didn't have blood covering it. It seemed the beast hadn't only hit my home. The people looked thin and pale. There were healers and priests working to cure what they could, those that weren't already gone. Apparently, I had barely survived, myself. My wounds were decently healed, but the scars never went away. Both physicall and mentally. I asked if anyone knew what it was that had caused so much destruction to our small town. The answer was simply one word. Vampyr. I may have been brought back from the dead, so to speak. But, everything I was, everything I knew, my entire world was all gone. That was the day that who I was died, and something new was born.
Without a family to return to, the Church of Bralm offered to take me in, raise me as one of theirs. As I had no further need for my home, especially as it only held painful memories for me now, the church assisted me with the sale of it, and set aside the money made for when I grew older, after taking their cut, of course. They wanted me to become a priest, as they were, but I guess there was too much of my father in me. I learned their ways, I took in a great deal of what they had to teach, especially as it came to dealing with 'unholy entities'. There was also a monastary of monks nearby that I was able to learn a bit of combat from. The priests weren't typically skilled in too much fighting. Obviously, splitting my time between the church and the monastary didn't give me too much skill in either one. I could fight well enough to hold my own, and I learned a little of the magical properties from the priests, but I didn't grow particularly proficient in either one.
My passion was still in building, exploring, inventing. I loved dealing with metal work, seeing what I could do with different types of technology. I knew that no ordinary dwarf would be able to stand against the butcher that slaughtered my family. If the priests of the church had been any match for it, then the creature wouldn't have been able to slaughter my family, so learning what they knew wouldn't be enough. If the monks could have protected the town, same thing. I figure, even learning the combination of the two still wouldn't be enough. If I wanted to be able to stand against the beast, I would need something more. But if I could combine the magic of the priests, the combat skills of the monks, and the technology of my father, then maybe I could begin extracting my revenge-- No, I could find justice for both my loss, and of all those in my town that died to the beast. And not just them, but to everyone that had fallen victim to, not just the Vampyr, but to any creature of the night that preys on good, honest, hard working citizens.
The priests attempted to teach temperance, patience, mercy. But, when asked how much mercy the beast had shown my family, their only response was that we could not counter violence with violence. The monks had a bit of a different opinion, but even they only condoned violence in defense. I suggested that if the evil were destroyed without prejudice, then there would be no need for defense. No matter the philosophical debate, they couldn’t understand me, and I couldn’t agree with them. I realized there was nothing more I could gain from my small little town. There was a rage in my chest that was only growing the longer I remained. So, I left the Temple of Bralm and ventured out.
I was angered by the lack of action from my village. But, it wasn’t until I got out into the world that I realized things were so much worse elsewhere. In my bid to rid evil from the world, I learned that there was more evil than just the Vampyr, though my hatred for that undead creature never faded. But I did learn many important lessons.
I tracked a cult of necromancers. I had managed to capture the leader of this organization. A pathetic man who had sold his soul for power, and committed great atrocities to fulfill this twisted demand. In my anger, I wanted to kill him. But, the lessons of the priests kept ringing in my head. I opted to show mercy. I released him to the town guard, and allowed the justice system to take care of him. I later learned that due to mistreatment and ‘excessive violence from his captor’, the court had ruled that he had been treated unfairly and there wasn’t sufficient evidence to convict him. He was ultimately released.
I continued to track down his organization, suspecting they would learn nothing from the encounter. He certainly left the village he had been tried in very quickly. I followed them down to a relatively large town, certainly bigger than the one I had come from. I followed their work to this one particular large building. Inside, there were small bodies all over the building. Didn’t take long to realize this was an orphanage. They had gone in to collect the blood of the innocent, I assume for their dark rituals. I was unable to find a child left living. Again, I had turned to the local magistrate, questioning if they knew of the events. They brought me into a private room to explain that they were aware of what had happened. They had guards looking for those that were guilty, but were trying to keep the entire affair quiet. Apparently, the mayor was afraid of harming property values, afraid of what this kind of story could do to their businesses if it became known that the town had an entire orphanage slaughtered. Orphans were expendable, an acceptable loss. The guards were working on it. Came to find out, ‘working on it’ meant disposing of the children’s bodies and cleaning the building out to be used for ‘other purposes’. I found the necromancer. This time, I didn’t leave any of them for the court’s to free. Instead, I purified their souls through pain. Several days of ongoing pain. When I left, the leader of the group was still alive, but he was not recognizable as a human. Though, in my eyes, he never was. No healer would be good enough to save him from what I had done to him.
I learned two important lessons from the necromancers. One, that the governments that are meant to uphold the laws are just as corrupt and evil as the criminals they fail to persecute. And two, just how much the human body can survive before it finally gives up. I thought to extract much needed justice on the vile mayor, but throughout the days of pain I extolled on the necromancers, I had learned of a werewolf that was terrorizing a town not far away. I realized dealing with the mayor could be costly, not just in the trouble it could cause me, but in innocent lives that the wolf could take.
During my travels, I still found the temples and places of worship a place of solace. There I would rest and pray, seeking guidance from whatever god would listen. One night, shortly after I had dispatched the aforementioned werewolf, I had a dream. A vision. Something came to me. It was the god Trithereon, praise be to him. Of course, I was familiar with him from my readings. A god of Justice, of Liberty. A god that was more forgiving of one who found their own way of extracting penance unto others. He praised my work. For weeks following, I would see Trithereon, praise be to him, in my dreams. At first, it was very occasionally, briefly. But the more I extracted my brand of justice to the monsters and beasts of the land, the more frequent he came to me.
I was hunting down a group of slave traders. A small goblin band that preyed on weak villagers that may have wandered into the wrong part of the woods at the wrong time. Scavengers. Parasites. I was tracking them down after a villager woman had gone missing. Their stench was easy to follow. I found them fairly quickly. It was a small group, and goblins were barely a challenge. Still, one could always get lucky, so I ensure I fight with no mercy, no hesitation. In the back, I saw their leader. This hooded creature that stood well over all of them. A human, I thought. After dispatching the minions, I turned to the leader. I had my spear to their neck, when the hood dropped back and I saw… An elf. A female elf. She looked so frail, so delicate, much like the villagers they had captured. I had wondered if maybe she had been more a victim than one calling the shots. There was a voice echoing in my head, ‘kill her now, don’t hesitate’. This was the first time I had heard Trithereon, praise be to him, outside of my dreams. But I did not listen, I was uncertain if it was the voice of a god, or just my own thoughts. I hesitated. The bitch stabbed me in the side with a dagger she had hidden and ran off. I later heard she had gotten a group of orcs together and continued her slave trade. I never questioned the voice of Trithereon, praise be to him, again. Another valuable lesson I got; it doesn’t matter how sweet or innocent a creature appears, evil can take on any manner of shape or appearance.
Trithereon, praise be to him, continued to speak to me in my mind. The more I listened, the more the voice grew, until eventually it seemed I heard his voice more than my own thoughts. His encouragement, his dedication to justice drove me to push further. And, eventually, I even began to see his presence before me.
He led me to team up with this paladin. I found this paladin in one of my visits to a temple. I discovered he was on a quest to cleanse a haunted manor. He was a brilliant warrior, dispatching skeletons with an ease that I could not muster. I held my own, of course, but he was clearly a far more skilled combatant. It wasn’t until we were halfway through the mansion that I discovered why. Trithereon, praise be to him, caught my attention and pointed back to the paladin. ‘Look’, he said. When I looked, I saw that the paladin was harvesting the spectral essence of the creatures we were dispatching. He was taking the dark power into himself, using it to further empower his abilities. I knew I couldn’t overtake the paladin in a fight, but knowing that he was using this corrupt power for his own greed… I was devastated. Even among the holy, there was deep corruption. I couldn’t take him, but we got into a particularly challenging area, surrounded by all manner of undead atrocities. It was nothing the two of us together couldn’t take. But, as he was distracted in the fight, I began to back away. As I walked out the room, I saw the mob overwhelm him, begin to take him down. I couldn’t say for certain if he got out of there alive or not, but I’m fairly sure he received the justice he deserved.
This is not to say my faith has been unwavering. There have been moments of doubt. One such instance found me in the woods, discussing recent events with Trithereon, praise be to him. A child came upon my camp. The child seemed innocent, lost. Trithereon, praise be to him, informed me that the child was a demon, seeking to lure me into a trap. I was reminded of the innocent looking woman that had stabbed my side, even feeling a twinge of that pain where she had stabbed me as I recalled the events. The child appeared to cry as I raised my mace to him. Trithereon, praise be to him, reminded me that hesitation would cause weakness, would permit treachery. I did not stop to think, to consider. Instead, I slaughtered the child where he stood. Trithereon, praise be to him, informed me that the demon was destroyed along with the child’s body. That it was unfortunate that the child had to die, but that it was already taken, already lost to the spirits that consumed it.
I related this later at a Temple of Trithereon, praise be to him. The priest there suggested that this did not sound like any actions that would be taken by Trithereon, praise be to him, and that the god was not known for speaking directly to his followers. For some priests or paladins that worship him, he had been known to create miracles, but that what I spoke of seemed very unlikely. He questioned if perhaps I might have been hallucinating. I will admit, this conversation did shake my faith, a bit. But, Trithereon, praise be to him, reassured me that the priest did not follow the path as strictly as I did. The priest was unwilling to do what was necessary in the name of justice. This is why the god spoke to me directly, rather than to the priest or paladins of his order. The priest had stated that if a demon had overtaken a child, there were ways to exercise the demon without causing harm to the child, and that perhaps the action was excessive. He said that no god of light would have recommended such a course of action. But, Trithereon, praise be to him, assured me that any deviance from the course of action that I had taken could have resulted in the deaths of several others, including possibly myself. That sometimes the innocent must die so that the wicked may be brought to justice.
Of course, it is difficult to prove that a demon was in a child after you destroy said demon. Local authorities discovered my actions and began to seek me out. I would not find myself in the corrupt prison cells of a corrupt government. That was not the only instance. Many governments filled with evil politicians have sought to move their forces against me, to stop my crusade of righteousness. As such, I have had to conceal my identity on occasion, and have been forced to stand against the evil forces that call themselves ‘lawmen’. Still, others have seen my work and praised me for the good I have done. I am welcome in many taverns and by businesses who I have saved from corruption and evil.
And now, Trithereon, praise be to him, has informed me that there is a great evil that must be purged. I had to make my way to a place called Barovia, where I would seek out a great evil. Perhaps this time, I may even find the vengeance deserved for those that had slaughtered my family and started me on this holy path of justice.