Nanaki/Forge

Verdant "Forge" Talon

I am called Forge, a sobriquet that lies somewhere between a real name and a title. You see, in my family it is tradition that the man of the family take up the name “Forge” when he takes up the family business. That business is the smithy in a small village on the coast a few day’s walk from Tinal.

But I am getting ahead of myself. I was born thirty years past, to my father, Crimson “Forge” Talon, and my mother, Soft Melody. They called me Verdant Talon, and such has been my true name. My childhood was happy enough, though not without toil, as the future Forge is expected to develop the muscles required for such work, and so many a day (and not few a night) I worked the bellows for my father, and watched him work and listened to his lessons.

But what stands out as my happiest memory is Rose. Rose was a girl who also grew up in the village, and I adored her. We grew up together, and I think everyone in the village expected us to marry when the time was right. Rose had this blue eyes like the sea that I could almost drown in, and long, soft vermillion hair and a laugh that made the darkest night, the blackest storm, seem to fade into meaninglessness.

I digress. In my sixteenth year, I was recognized as an adult and my studies under my father quickened their pace. Before, they had been abstract, on the basic principles and the bellows-work that had given me the strength to do a smith’s work. Now it was the specifics, how to make horseshoes, nails, and the blades of a scythe, plow, and when I had mastered those, it was on to the blades of swords and axes, as the cantrev lords always sought to best one another and as such the demand for weapons was always high, such that the fine weapons produced by Forge Talon always brought the family, and by extension the village, a more than small amount of coin.

I learned the making of blades to a perfection, which is required. A nail can pass if it is less than perfect, a horseshoe must be of good quality, yes, but the warriors, mercenaries, and privateers who seek to purchase blades demand nothing less than the best. My father swelled with pride at my work, safe in knowing the title of Forge would pass to worthy shoulders.

This was good, for in my nineteenth year my father died of plague, and my mother soon after. Now I was Forge Talon, and amidst my tears I went to work. And I found a solace in an old and caring friend, Rose. Rose was there for me, and I for her, for the sickness that claimed my parent’s lives claimed hers as well. At first I simply took care of her, but soon we could not deny how we felt. Rose became my wife, and my heart sang with joy. Ah, those simple years. Life seemed so complex then, though that was only because of my limited imagination at the time, but I was happy. Ignorance can indeed be bliss.

I was twenty one when Rose bore my son, Beryl Talon. He is a fine lad, and I expected him to carry on in my footsteps. My business was certainly growing, even the cantrev lords bought my goods. It seemed my life was perfect, and nothing could go wrong.

I was a fool. Three years later, a cold snap swept through the village, the freezing cold killing a few cattle as the damned Court of Seasons’ squabbles sent the minions of the Onyx Dragon rampaging across the land. As I said, they killed a few cattle. And one woman.

Rose.

To this day, I still hold the promise within my breast that the Onyx Dragon shall know no forgiveness from me.

It has been hard, trying to raise Beryl myself. Of course, the rest of the village helps, as they too see the value in making sure there is a Forge to replace me when my time comes, and that he sees them in a positive light. But nevertheless, Beryl is without mother, and I make sure I do the best I can for him. Already he has worked at the bellows, the foundation for the strength that will serve him well when he takes on my responsibilities and the name Forge.

Then the dreams began. At first, they seemed pleasant enough, of working at a far more equipped forge, working with the fabled metals of orihalcum, moonsilver, and starmetal. I did not know what these were but in my dream I recognized them. Then they changed, to weeping in the forest by a small totem. The weeping dreams were strange, because while I was crying, I felt grateful, happy. But I was happy even though I was doomed to die. I could not understand it.

The weeping dreams kept coming, growing sharper and clearer, and then I started feeling the tugging, the gnawing need to go into the forest. It was only a matter of time before I succumbed to its call, and into the forest I went, following the call, wondering in the back of my mind if I had fallen prey to the machinations of Fair Folk and I was walking to my doom. On some level I just wanted to see what was calling me though, and I did not care overmuch what it was.

I reached a clearing, and in it was a small totem, four feet tall. As my gaze fell on it I recognized it as the totem from my weeping dreams. It was a simple circular column, two feet in diameter, and on its top was a golden sunburst. I cannot truly describe the sensations pouring through my body. I felt my heart quicken, but without fear, but as if something wonderful was about to happen and my breath was held in anticipation. Hands half trembling, I reached for the totem with hands on the verge of shaking, and touched the thing that had haunted my dreams, drawn me here. In that instant the clearing was filled with golden light, the anticipation exploding within me as Essence flowed into my soul and infused me with power. Knowledge long lost flowed into my mind. And with that knowledge I knew the totem’s true nature: it was a container, within which some being – my predecessor – had stored some piece of history that would help me. I laid my hand upon the sunburst and channeled my newfound Essence into it. The lower portion of the column swung silently open, revealing a shirt and a small stack of books.

Picking up the first book in the stack, I noticed it was very plain. Neither markings nor title adorned its cover. Opening it to the first page, I discovered written on the pages, in a language I never knew before, but did now, a letter from my predecessor to me. I read it, then continued, to find notes and drawings, half-drawn schematics with notations, symbols, and calculations unfamiliar to me. But even the vaguest inkling of what they were told me this book was beyond price, as it held the hints I would need to rebuild the wonders of the First Age. Deciphering it may take a lifetime, but I now know I have that and more to spare, and that book will open its secrets to me in the fullness of time. Other pages held diagrams and runes that I now know are spells. The next book, my heart recognized and my mouth gave name to before I had realized what it was, “The White Treatise”. Sitting underneath, as I part expected, part hoped, and part remembered, was the last book in the stack, the Black Treatise.

And then I came to the shirt. Originally thinking it to me silk for how it shimmered, as I touched it I realized my error. It was not woven from silk or any other fabric or cloth, but from threads of starmetal. On the front, over the heart, was the symbol of the Unconquered Sun in orihalcum thread and on the back was my predecessor’s insignia, again in orihalcum. I took off my coat and shirt, and put on this new shirt from a bygone time, and felt it merge with my anima. At first it resisted, but with my newfound arcane knowledge I coaxed it into accepting me.

I decided to try and wait to see if the light that surrounded me would fade, and so I began reading the White Treatise. Before dark, the light had faded to a small circle, full on the top and empty on the bottom, that glowed faintly on my brow. I covered it with cloth from my old shirt, wrapped up the books in the remains of my old shirt, and walked home. Along the way I decided that while the metal shirt was not nearly as scratchy as one might expect metal to be, I had been a fool to put it on without some form of cloth underneath, as it was worse than wool and stung like mad. Ah well, first lesson in my new existence. I suspect it won’t be the last. Besides, it didn’t leave any scars.

---

Name:    Verdant "Forge" Talon (♂)
Caste:   Twilight
Nature:  Architect
Anima:   A Spider holding a forge-hammer
Concept: Craftsman-Sorcerer
XP Left/Total: 12/49

Attributes

Strength  ☻☻☻oo   Charisma     ☻☻☻☻o   Perception   ☻☻☻oo

Dexterity ☻☻☻☻☻   Manipulation ☻oooo   Intelligence ☻☻☻☻o

Stamina   ☻☻☻oo   Appearance   ☻☻ooo   Wits         ☻☻ooo

Abilities (Favored/Caste Abilties are named in bold)

Archery:       ☻☻☻oo   Endurance:     ☻oooo   Crafts:        ☻☻☻☻☻

Martial Arts:  ooooo   Performance:   ☻oooo   Investigation: ☻☻ooo

Melee:         ooooo   Presence:      ☻oooo   Lore           ☻☻☻oo

Tactics:       ☻☻☻oo   Resistance:    ooooo   Medicine:      ooooo

Thrown:        ooooo   Survival:      ooooo   Occult:        ☻☻☻☻o

Athletics:     ☻oooo   Bureaucracy:   ☻oooo

Awareness:     ☻☻☻oo   Linguistics:   ☻☻ooo

Dodge:         ooooo   Ride:          ooooo

Larceny:       ooooo   Sail:          ooooo

Stealth:       ooooo   Socialize:     ooooo

Backgrounds

Artifacts ☻☻ooo

Manse     ☻☻ooo

Resources ☻oooo

Savant    ☻☻☻oo

Cult      ☻oooo

Virtues

Compassion ☻☻ooo    Conviction ☻☻☻oo

Temperance ☻☻☻oo    Valor      ☻oooo

Virtue Flaw: Single Minded Focus

Willpower:    ☻☻☻☻☻☻oooo
Essence:      ☻☻☻☻o
Essence pool: 18 Personal / 43 Peripheral

Health

□    -0

□□□  -1

□□□□ -2

□    -4

□    Incap

Charms

Craft

Flawless Handiwork Method

Object Strengthening Touch

Shattering Grasp

Craftsman Needs No Tools

Occult

Terrestrial Circle Sorcery

Ritual of Elemental Empowerment

Summon Elemental

Summoning The Harvest

Celestial Circle Sorcery

Imbue Amalgam

Magma Kraken

Summoning the Lesser Minions of the Eyeless Face

Swift Spirit of Winged Transportation

Willpower (See DariusSolluman/Willpower)

Chosen of the Unconquered Sun

Meditation on the Glory of the Sun

Equipment

Hammer

Travel Clothing

Starmetal Chain Shirt

This shirt is made out of starmetal drawn into strands and woven into a shirt. On the back is the insignia of Forge's predecessor, the Weaver-Smith, embroidered in orihalcum thread. On the front, over the heart, is the symbol of the Unconquered Sun, with the Old Realm words, "Celebrate This" underneath, again embroidered in orihalcum thread.

Solar Seal

Combat

Base init: 7

Soak:      6B/6L/5A

Dodge:     5

Attacks:

---

Comments

Hi. I just wanted to post to let you know that I really love your weriting. The background for this character was brilliantly conveyed, flowed wonderfully and was beautifully put together. He really has depth. Mechanically, I'm not sure where Summoning The Harvest fits into the craftsman background and the spider totem seems a bit oblique. But these are minor quibbles that may just be my perception of this character. Overall, I wish my players would come up with stuff like this. - Voidstate

Thanks for the compliments. As for the minor quibbles, first off, this isn't a starting character, he's been in play for few sessions, and in fact Summoning the Harvest was something Forge learned just last session in order to prevent an impending famine. His sorcerer aspect may not be a part of his mortal life, but it is a part of himself as an Exalt. As for the spider totem, I see the spider as being a builder. A spider builds a web. Ever had a good look at a nice spiderweb? I don't mean cobwebs, I mean a pretty spiderweb that's got its own beauty. Now granted, I'm not a fan of spiders per se, they're still crawly things, but the other idea for a "builder" animal in my mind was the beaver, and that just didn't feel right. - Nanaki