Travok- Dwarven Cleric

A Story by MnemonicOne

This is another story written for one of my D&D player's character. Any and all feedback is appreciated.

As you bow your head in prayer before the well you feel a warm presence about you, as though waves of heat were softly being blown against you. Finishing your prayer to complete your mission safely and defeat the evil of Kiris Dahn you open your eyes, still kneeling, and before you, sitting on the lip of the well is a well dressed dwarf. Pristine leather boots climb towards his knees, the tops obscured by the most beautiful chain mail coat you have ever seen. Though it is night and there is only the light of the moon and torches, the chain mail seem to glow with an inner light so brightly you have to squint. Spilling down his chest and hanging down to his waist, a long silver beard. The chain mail and beard almost seem to compete for your attention as both sparkle brightly before your eyes. As your gaze continues upwards you see a craggy face, eyes like shards of obsidian staring at you with intensity above a smile. A pair of battle axes poke behind each shoulder, framing his bald head. You look around and realize none of your companions are moving; all four frozen in time before you, seemingly unaware of what is transpiring before you. The only movement seems to be this dwarf in front of you. As he hops down from the lip of the well you see, emblazoned upon his chest, two crossed battle axes, mirroring those slung over his back. He slowly starts to pace around you, he speaks in a voice so deep and resonating you can feel your body vibrate with each word.

"I am The Father of Battle. I am the Giantkiller. I am the Goblinbane and the Lord of the Twin Axes. I am the Rock of Battle, and I am the Wyrmslayer."

With each proclamation his voice grows louder and louder until the very stones around you ring with the sound of his voice. Completing his circuit he turns to face you directly and reaches out a calloused hand. Resting it on your shoulder affectionately he speaks softly:

"I am Clangeddin Silverbeard, and we have been watching you, Travok."

Stepping back he stands before you, arms crossed as he seems to weigh something in his mind. With an abrupt nod he continues his pacing.

"I am Exarch to the Dwarffather, come to both grant and ask a boon of you. We have watched you upon the field of battle, both against the gnomes in your past and against the kobolds and goblins of your present."

He stops and seems to level a stern look your way.

"You have not performed up to your potential in battle as of late, and Moradin did not intervene for you to bring dishonor to him and his choice to save you. You were given a second chance those years ago on that field of battle because Moradin was not done with you yet and we know you are capable of so much more."

Clangeddin reaches out and grabs your hammer, holding it in both hands. Silver light engulfs the weapon, blinding you for a moment before flashing out of existence. He lays the hammer down before your kneeling body and you can feel a slight power pulse from it, a soft glow like that of a dying ember shines from it before it fades out.

"I have blessed your weapon temporarily. It will swing truer and hit harder than before, but at a cost. This will last for one day, and if in that time you do not slay a worthy foe, it will lose its power and you will forfeit the gift of Clangeddin Silverbeard. However..." He trails off and smiles.

"However...defeat a worthy foe, in the allotted time, and you will find your hammer to be....more worthy of a victor like yourself."

Clapping both hands on your shoulders he bends down and gently touches his forehead to yours. You get a flash of an image, a large female orc, powerfully built and wielding a giant greataxe standing atop a wooden platform. A hood partially covers her head but doesn't hide a hideous scar burned across the left side of her face, that of a slit eye.

You are startled as Aramil claps you on the shoulder, beckoning you to gather your things and prepare to depart the Temple of Sehanine. The others are milling about the fountain, seemingly oblivious to what just happened; Reegan yelling shrilly about how genius he was for tricking the goblins into thinking he was a wererat! Connor sighs dejectedly as he shoulders his pack, a smug smile at having figured out the wishing well's secret.

As you pick up your Mordenkrad you feel a slight tingle, like that of a weak electrical current course through your hands before fading out but you see no sign of the dwarf from before.

© 2016 MnemonicOne

Author's Note

Negative feedback is welcome, so long as it's constructive. We may disagree on things but I welcome any and all feedback. All of the names of gods/etc are from the D&D world. Player Character names were made by the players. I tried to stick to canon as much as possible.