Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

First Name: Tegeus (TAGGY-uss)
Last Name: Cromis (KROHM-iss)
Appearance: His appearance is human, the only sign of his extraplanar ancestry is his supernaturally deep, booming voice, which reaches thunderous volume when he is angry, and his eyes: Dependant upon on his mood, they alternately resemble serene light gray shades or black anvil clouds, replete with flashes of lightning as his anger peaks.
Race: Aasimar, third-generation with Trumpet Archon ancestry, he is not aware of his extraplanar heritage
Ethnic Background: Primarily Chondathan with a slight hint of Turemi
Age: 40
Height: 6'4
Weight: 240 Ib.
Eyes: Dark grey
Hair: A very dark dirty blonde with a few grey hairs, it is of medium-length, messy and unkempt
Facial Hair Style: Full beard; kept trimmed and well groomed about two inches in length.
Personality Profile: Tegeus Cromis has a kind heart, but over the years it has hardened and been worn away by the horrors he has seen. He is stern, abrasive, rarely displaying any emotion save for annoyance or anger. He tries hard to distance himself from others, in the belief that proximity to him for too long can only bring disaster. At his heart he wishes to settle down and stay in one place, with one group of allies and friends, but he is often forced into a nomadic lifestyle by his own fear of harming others.
Physical Health: Excellent, he is in peak condition for his age and is incredibly strong, he is very rarely sick
Mental Health: Poor, he is depressed and bipolar
Deity: Assuran (Hoar)
Initial Alignment: Lawful Neutral
Profession: Doombringer, soldier
Base Class & Proposed Development: Fighter & Cleric
Habits/Hobbies: Prayer, philosophy, poetry, sparring
Languages Known: Chessentan (Native Language), Chondathan, Celestial, Common, Elven
Accent: Strong and always present Chessentan accent
Armour: Mithral plate and maille, tower shield
Weapon of Choice: Spear, ritual dagger, blessed claymore
Background: Born in the military town of Akanax, more a camp for its armies than a true city. At the young age of nine summers he escaped with his mother to avoid the mandatory conscription for boys of his age, but their group was waylaid by slavers of Thay. After several days aboard the slaver vessel, the Favoured Doombringer Pharaxes Hendeion rescued him from the ship, although his mother was slain in the conflict. Sensing the drive for vengeance and justice within the lad, the Doombringer took the young boy in as an apprentice. He taught the boy of his faith, his philosophies of Justice and Vengeance's true purpose. The boy flourished under his tutelage and studies at the Temple, and at his seventeenth summer made out on his own. He has since wandered the lands of Faerun, righting wrongs and bringing the wisdom of his Lord of Three Thunders with him.



General:

Tegeus Cromis does not truly understand his own motivations. His belief is that his life is devoted to Hoar. Underlying that desire for Justice, he simply wants to be happy as he once was, but he believes that this is impossible for him to attain. Instead, he tries to do what he believes must be done to bring about a Just world for others, while he must live outside of it.

Specific:

- Rally local Hoarites and others to the cause of Justice. Accomplished.

- Investigate Grand Master Arkaine HalfOrken. Failed.

- Avenge Gwydion ap Gwyneth's village, razed by Bhaalist Northlanders. Accomplished.

- Foster a functional alliance between the other Holy Orders and the local Hoarites.

- Find a home for the Hunters of Vengeance and spread the Doombringer's teachings.

- Track down and kill the serial murderer known as the Butcher.

- Oversee Eleanor's rise to Knighthood. Failed.

- Provide his mentorship, care, and protection to Eleanor.

- Avenge his wife's death.

- Redeem his daughter, Cylla.



- Tegeus is unaware of his extraplanar ancestry, and never learned Celestial from his parents.

- He often disagrees with the law of the land, and follows the Code of the Justicar and the Teachings of Hoar rather than 'local tradition', as he derisively calls local laws - particularly those that contradict his personal idea of Justice.

- He is of Chondathan breeding. Despite rising from his low beginnings to become a member of the priest social class, he maintains a strong hatred for those born into nobility or upper echelons of society after seeing the dominance of the Mulan in Chessenta.

- Hates slavers and Thayans, as they led directly to the death of his mother.

- Veteran of several wars in which he served as a common footsoldier in the Akanax military.

- Takes a great interest in other's stories of injustice or revenge. His personal story is one of aiding others in seizing retribution.

- Recently learned that his daughter is alive and a servant of Shar. (Mirtul 24, 1351)

((Updated Dec. 30th))

Reviewed and rewarded

Tegeus Cromis was born on the 1st of Marpenoth in 1310 DR - the Year of the Storm - to a widow in Akanax, a large militaristic Chessentan city state. His life was largely uneventful for his first six years, extreme poverty forced his mother to seek work as a lady-of-the-evening, and he did whatever work he could find as a young boy, serving as a page one week, a kitchen lad the next. In his thirteenth year, his mother smuggled him out of the city, to save him from the mandatory conscription to which all males in that city are subjected. The two of them made it out of the city, the boy hidden in a bale of hay, his mother taking the guise of the wife of one of her clients, who had agreed to see them to safety. For three days, they traveled along the banks of Lake Fand, with the ultimate goal of reaching Pandrik, a nearby town whose allegiance was tentatively sworn to Luthcheq, a town where the boy would be safe. On the fourth day of their journey, young Tegeus Cromis woke to the sight of a black and red sail. He hurried to awaken his mother and their guardian, asleep in the wagon, but they were not swift enough to escape the Thayan marauders that happened upon them. The trader with whom they traveled was slain, he ran and was rewarded with an arrow of flame in his back. The boy and his mother were put in manacles and taken on the boat, already almost full with captives and heading north to visit the slave-markets of the Old Empires.

It was in the Bay of Chessenta that the boy awoke once more. After several days of awaking to the sound of a cracked whip and a gesture to the oars, his mother died of the pox in the cramped conditions, he now woke to the clang of steel, the hiss of flame crashing into the sea, and the anguish of dying men. The battle above deck continued for what seemed to him to be hours, he hid under his bench and scanned the ceiling for any flicker of light, the creak of foot steps that would reveal more of the scene above him. Few of the slavers below deck rushed up the stairs when the fighting began, fear gripped them as those that went first died soon after. The slavers that remained below when the fighting stopped above barricaded the stairs and took up spears aimed at the passage, casting nervous glances about the room and whipping slaves who looked hungrily on for the Thayan's impending doom. When it came, it took the form of a slow vibration, subtle at first, a gentle, deep whine that struck the ears of all, but dealt special pain to the marauders. The reverberations continued, the teeth of those present chattered noiselessly, drowned out by the overbearing din, as the Thayans screamed. One by one, they clutched their heads and sank to the ground as the wood comprising the boats bowed from flexing and twisting. Just when it seemed the vessel would snap, the sound stopped, and was immediately followed by a loud roar, a thunderous applause of light, sound, and violence. The door and all of it's barricades shuddered. A second time, the thunder blared. A third, and then silence as the blockage was rendered into sawdust by the power of the intruder. The silence permeated the space below deck for an age before hard footsteps were heard; a man in black plate armed with a spear and shield was descending the steps. His armour's design was fearsome, ridged and sharp scalloped plate engraved with designs of lightning, battle, and terror. Even worse was his visage, a white mask, bestial and terrible. It was human enough to invoke recognition, and inhuman enough to evoke fear. As he walked he tapped the wood planks with the butt of his spear, a small flash emitted with each tap. Slowly, methodically, he went to the fallen slavers and examined them, only one remained alive, whom he garroted with his own barbed whip. He stood, then, and removed his mask to reveal a gruff and weather beaten face, creased with lines of worry and battle. He said in a commanding voice "I am Doombringer Pharaxes Hendeion, the slavers have been punished, and ye're all freemen." He raised his off-hand and incanted a quick nonsensical phrase beside a complex gesture, and the Thayan manacles all clicked and fell to the floor. "My vessel is not well stocked, but we can make it to Apescoc before we run out of supplies." He gave a nod and returned to above deck, and began to roll the bodies over the side. Stunned silence reigned in the cabin below for many moments before the full realization of this man's deeds came to them, and they cheered and celebrated their rescue.

Tegeus cried, but could not resist his curiosity and went above deck to learn more of the fascinating stranger that had saved them. Slowly, and with great caution, he moved up the slick wooden steps, pausing only to overcome his revulsion at the scene as his head appeared above the hatch. He shook his head to clear it and stood up, glancing around to spot the man. He was at the rail, port side, disposing of a bald robed man's body when he glanced Cromis' way, the mask blazing. "Ye should stay below deck, boy, this is a man's work here." The tall Doombringer stood straight as he spoke, looming over the lad despite the distance. "I may not be a man, but I'd like to become one soon, may as well start practicing now." replied the boy coyly. The man gave a chuckle, a hoarse sound that reverberated around the ship and bounced from end to end. "Well then, come on over here and help me with this one." The boy did as he was told, aiding the Doombringer in his morbid task. When they had finished, he asked him "What's yer name, lad?" "Tegeus Cromis, sir" the boy answered in as proud a voice as he could muster. The Justicar removed his mask once more - the hunt now ended - and said "it's a pleasure to meet you, lad. Was that yer mother down there?" The boy nodded once, holding back tears, and stood up straight. Pharaxes grunted and asked "Ye got a trade?" After receiving a non-committal shrug and shake of the head, he added "Ever thought of a profession in justice?" The boy smiled very slightly, his tears now shedding freely, and the Doombringer laughed once more.

Rap! The boy winces as the quarterstaff smacks hard against his knuckles. He narrows his eyes and glares hard at his instructor; the fearsome Pharaxes Hendeion. "Ye move too slow... see what I'm ta do and act, mere reaction isn't enough." The boy growls and nods. His eyes blaze as he rages inwardly at the man before him. How he hates him. The boy examines the stance of the man opposite him carefully. He takes a sense of the man's balance, where his foot lies, when his muscles tense, and where. As the Doombringer brings his staff down in a vicious chop at the boy's head, it meets another practice weapon with a hard crack. The boy smirks ever so slightly, but it is not too little to avoid notice. The instructor scowls and in the blink of an eye whirls the staff around to leave a deep yellowing bruise on the boy's side. "Do not celebrate yer victories before ye have them, lad." He remarks coolly. The boy crumples from the blow and nods weakly, his mind too taken by the sudden explosion of pain to realize that the noises coming at him were words.

The training is over for the day at twilight, and the boy begins his studies. The boy has barely seen fourteen summers, but was strong, lithe, intelligent, and is learning his letters well. He traces his finger over a rune written in the parchment book he had been allowed. "Alpha." He speaks softly aloud, reciting the name of the Chessic symbol. He glances behind him suddenly, as if embarrassed, or perhaps paranoid of those behind him. His suspicions were correct, as the looming figure of the Doombringer behind him blot out the low sun. "Boy - Cromis..." The boy frowns. The instructor never uses his name. "It's fer the time that ye leave me. I've taught ye what I can, but ye can write better than I, and I never got proper training. We're going to Akanax, ye're to find a teacher there." The man's tone is, as ever, simple; blunt and stern. It allows for no debate but is not entirely unkind in it's manner.

The boy blinks, digesting the information. "What are ye to do afterwards?" Pharaxes' stern gaze softens slightly, and his cold stare melts to a neutral gaze of respectful acknowledgement. "Follow in the path of injustice, boy. Get yerself some rest, we move out at dawn." The boy nods slowly, his expression is blank, a stoic visage reflecting none of the turmoil within him. Suddenly his hate coalesces into the fear of absence, the Instructor is the one he has always known, has always been taught by. To lose him is to lose himself.

A tenday passes, and the two arrive at the sullen guarded gates of Akanax. Pharaxes presents the guards with a roll of papers, and by the look in his eyes it must have meant something important, as they immediately wave him and the boy through the gatehouse to the streets beyond. The size of the city amazes the boy. It does not rise high as he has seen the mountain soar or the eagle fly, it barely surpasses two stories, but the expanse continues into the horizon. A horde of shanties and barracks, smiths and engineers. The streets bustle with activity, regular patrols of Akanacian mercenary troupes along the road. Their passing is clockwork, and heralded by the screams and running of vagrants down the lane, fleeing from the enforcers of the law. Each patrol is led by a man in a dark grey robe, a spear, sword, and hammer at his belt.

The boy watches with awe at the sight of the soldiers, and is dragged along through the crowded lanes by Pharaxes. People filter in and out of the cobbled streets, some bumping too closely to others, their hands busy. One man crashes heavily into the side of Pharaxes, reaching for his purse, and receives a broken wrist for his efforts. They walk up the stoney path to the great temple of Akanax, where the Lord of Three Thunders' faith reigns supreme over the city. As they come to the doors, the Doombringer leaves the boy at the entrance hall, "I will see ye in three years. Until then... fare well, Cromis. Do what must be done." The man nods once and leaves the city without another word. Staring after the man as he leaves, the boy nods absently to himself, and turns to open the heavy door. A great light accosts his eyes, the holy brilliance of the true Doombringer's power and righteousness. For the first time in his life, the boy is not scared.

The three years pass slowly. The boy is taught the finer arts of courtesy and lawmanship. He is ruthlessly beaten for mistakes, and his successes pass unnoticed. The first month is a grueling time of utter servitude to the tyrannical priest hierarchy, he completes servant manual tasks. He cleans, he cooks, he fetches, always his eyes on the floor in deep respect and submission. When he dares to look at the captors who have claimed his life, he is given a harsh slap with rod and whip. He drops a kettle, and is punished with a kick to the ground, in kind with the damage done. The boy hates the priests even more than Pharaxes, but he cannot leave. His life is given to Assuran, to become a Doombringer in the footsteps of countless Akanacian men.

The half mark of the first year heralds his schooling, after the weaker pupils have been weeded out and removed from the temple. The instructors teach him languages, rites of the nobility, the art of war, and the insides of a man's mind. That latter subject, so important in the dealing of Justice, to know fact from fiction and earnest from deceiver, was what young Tegeus excelled at. He demonstrated great skill, a preternatural talent seemingly bordering on the divine to discern the truth in a man's words. Near the end of his first year, a young waif steals fowl from the cookery, and the chef asks the boy to ascertain his guilt after being caught empty-handed in the pantry. After a quick examination and asked questions, the boy nods. "Yes, he stole them." He tells the chef. "He hides the truth, but it is yet there to see." The boy is shocked, but not surprised when he is asked to hold the boy down, as the chef cleaves the hands from the waif's arms with a cookery knife. He watches the boy's suffering, wailing, without emotion. This is Justice, Vengeance for the thief's crimes. His visage is a steely mask of tacit approval as the blood is shed. He returns to his duties later that night, and yields an inward cry of anguish for the thief - now certainly doomed to starvation, slavery, or some worse fate in the bowels of the city.

Young Cromis now enters the second year at the Temple of Assuran, and begins to train with unblunted weapons. He favours the spear and shield, and is shown some blessing from the masters for that choice - the traditional fighting arms of Chessenta, and of Assuran Himself. He practices daily for hours with the javelin, spear, sword, bow and mace. He studies as much as he can, learning of the old lores of deities, Hoar's worship and the tactics of field armies. When he can learn no more, he reads them again. Disciplined to the utmost, he studies relentlessly, leaving no time to waste with recreation or idle talk. Easily, the boy surpasses the expectations and capabilities of his masters and classmates. Despite this, with each act of Vengeance given that clashes with his sense of right and wrong, his anger builds. His frustration at injustices in all their forms, even - especially those of the faith he now follows accumulate nightly, to be spent daily in his sparring, as he unleashes hell against his practice mates. He earns no favour from them, but impresses the masters.

His first miracle is worked when he is injured in a sparring match. His opponent, a reckless and vicious brute named Anthropoles is disarmed, his spear broken by a stamp from Tegeus' boot. Rather than conceding or dropping the weapon for another, the brute stabbed him in the thigh with the now jagged length of wood. Grimacing against the pain, the boy grabs hold of Anthropoles' arm and drags him closer, laying a hand instinctively on the brute's thigh, where the spear tip injured Tegeus. He closes his eyes in the tussle, and channels negative energy into the adolescent's leg that tears the flesh, inflicting a minor wound in kind to the spear's jab on the fool.

His third year draws closer, and he is sent to join a patrol group as a junior priest. His first assignment is a simple sweep of the streets, and finds nothing of interest. Squatters fleeing in the wakes of the march and disgruntled figures looking the other way. Despite the boy's vigilance, they see nothing of import. On his third day of patrol, the group is ambushed by dissidents. Bearing the weapons and colours of Anhur - Hoar's nemesis, they leap from hidden streets to assault the patrol. The boy remembers his training, and keeps his shield high to guard the soldiers on his right and left. He prods forward with his spear, seeking weakness in the shield wall of his opponents. There is a sudden explosion, as a fireball explodes in the middle of the patrol's phalanx. A spear flies from the boy's hand and takes the wizard in the chest, ending his part in Anhur's Divine War. The battle ends quickly as the mage falls. The professional soldiers make short work of the Untheric rebels, and put those that surrender to the sword.

His third year is over soon, the excitement of his assignments fading to monotony as little further action reveals itself. When Tegeus is free of his term, he takes to the open gates, a full man now. He waits there, for near a day, for the return of Pharaxes, but he cannot see him in the crowd.

((Cleaned up and updated the original post, and added some goals. Next chapter should be coming soon!))