Gallery/Profile of Ser Anthem Arnemeiger

[Darradarljod]

"The inferior man argues about his rights, while the superior man imposes duties on himself."

First Name: Anthem
Last Name: Arnemeiger
 
Appearance:
Race: Human (Neverwinter/Aasimar ancestry)
Age: 30
Height 5'10"
Weight: 200lb, muscular
Eyes: Grey
Hair: Brown, Tonsure
Facial Hair Style: Full Beard

Personality Profile:
General Health: Divine
Deity: Torm
Initial Alignment: Lawful Good
Profession: Shipwright, Paladin
Base Class & Proposed Development: Paladin 30
Habits: Prayer, Fasting, Physical Training
Hobbies: Artisan craft of the Shipwright, listening to music, art & sculptures, law
Languages: Common
Weapon of Choice: Greatsword

Base Abilities:
Strength 14 (+2)
Dexterity 10 (+0)
Constitution 10 (+0)
Intelligence 10 (+0)
Wisdom 14 (+2)
Charisma 25 (+7)

Background: Born in Neverwinter to a shipwright. He lived a simple life in a rough part of the docks, in faith and worship of good deities, he labored alongside his father. There came a day when there was an accident at work; his father was greviously wounded. As Anthem clung to the dying patriarch, he inadvertently healed the man by the laying on of his hands.

The inquisition of the Temple of Torm that followed the miracle recognized that Anthem was born to the calling of the paladin. After several meetings with his parents, Anthem was removed from his family and from the work of a laborer to answer a higher calling.

Anthem was relocated to Tantras, where he served as a page and squire under the knight Sir Jacques d'Astier de la Vigerie - a fierce Tormtar and veteran crusader of many battles in Anauroch. Under the tutelage of Sir Jacques in all things from combat to ettiquite to faith, Anthem grew to emulate his hero as best he may. When he had come unto his own knighthood, was comissioned to the Western Heartlands.

Anthem roams across the realm as a questing knight in search of high adventure.

Goals:
-To walk uprightly in the calling of a Paladin all the days of his life, fulfilling all his sacred duty and obedience to the doctrine and faith of Torm, the True Deity.
-Honor the obligations of the Order of the Radiant Heart.
-To maintain his holy vows of celibacy (abstaining from all fornication) and of poverty (accumulating no lands or properties, and hoarding no wealth or possessions beyond what is needful for continuing in crusade)
-the exposure and eradication of all evildoers; especially the persecution of evil cults, religions and political bodies
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~

On the last day of Flamerule,
on the edge of Summertide,
beneath the crust of the Coast,
within the sprawling labyrinth
of the dog,
five intrepid adventurers set to the task of the cull.

With Anthem went;
the fair lady Linethiel, touched by the gods
Mighty Raganhar - son of Tempos, Berserker of Icewind Dale,
Jebedoah, servant soldier of Tyr Even-Handed,
and last - but definitely not least - the hero maker, Sir Fluggle ... and his lady F.R.I.E.N.D

~

[Darradarljod]

From left to right: Sir Sepoficus of Tyr, Sir Anthem of Torm, Sir Jebedoah of Tyr, Sir Ulric of Siamorphe

[parchment]

Be the champion of the weak and the defenseless.

Be stern, unyielding and unswerving in your battles with evil.

Obey your masters with alert judgment and anticipation.

Serve the common good and the rule law established by honorable rulers.

Seek prowess and skill in all endeavors.

Stand ever alert against corruption.

Every failure of duty diminishes Torm and every success adds to his luster.

Be ever mindful of the code, and use them in your actions to swiftly enact justice.

[/parchment]

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The Duty of Penance

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Rolan, Raganhar and Anthem listen as the bard Terence Leonsen recites the grim tale of a halfling mariner from the shores of Lurien;

"We are two mariners, our ship's sole survivors in the belly of this whale.. It' ribs are ceiling beams, its guts are carpeting, I guess we have some time to kill.
"You may not remember me, I was a child of three, and you were a lad of eighteen... But, I remember you and I will relate to you, how our fate interweaves.
"You had a charming air, all cheap and debonair, my widowed mother found so sweet. And she took you in her sheets still warm with him, now filled with foul and disease.
As time wore on you proved, a debt ridden drunken mess, leaving my mother a consumptive wench...
And then you have dissappeared, and your gambling appears, the only thing you have left behind..
And then the magistrate, took our small estate and my poor mother lost her mind..
Then, one day in spring my sweet mother died but before he did, I took her hand as she, dying, cried;
'Find him, bind him, tie him to a pole an break his fingers in to splinters. Drag him into a hole until we wakes up naked, clawing at the celiling of his grave.."
It took me fifteen years, to swallow all my tears, among the urching of the street.
Until a prioriy, took pity and hired me, to keep their vestry nice and neat.
But, never once in the employ of this holy men... Did I ever turn my mind from the thought of revenge!
One night I overheard, the prior exchanging words with a peninet whaler from the sea..
The captain of his ship, who matched you toe to tip was known for wanton cruelty.
The following day I shipped to the sea with a privateer.. And in the whistle of the wind, I could almost hear;
"Find him bind him, tie him into a pole and break his fingers into splinters. Drag him into a hole until he wakes up, naked. Clawing at the celining of his graves.."
And then that fateful night, We had you on our sight after twenty months at sea..
Your starboard flank abeam, I was getting my sling clean, when came this rumblling from beneath..
The ocean shook, the sky went black and the captain qualied...
And before us the jaws of a great whale!
Dont know How I survived, the crew was chewed alive, I must have slipped between its teeth..
But, oh, what providence!
What divine intelligence!
That you sould survive as well as me...
It gives my heart great joy to see your eyes fill with fear...
Therefore lean in close as I will whisper the last word you will ever hear...
"find him, bind him, tie him into a pole and break his fingers, into splinters. Drag him into a hole until he wakes up, naked. Clawing at the celing of his grave..."
(credit: Mariner's Revenge, The Decemberists)

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Arm Wrestling at the Friendly Arm Inn, Raganhar versus Styrbjorn

Hidden: show

[parchment]Whatever we call ourselves - and there is great indecision - we are brothers in arms.

The lady Linetheil was the first among our band I had befriended. We met at the fireside a stone throw from the walls of Baldur's Gate, where she offered me true hospitality and shared a meal of soup. It was the beginning of our friendship, as we thereafter became travelling companions. The good lady is surely touched by the gods - but by which? Her manner is otherly, far from typical of a human woman - more aloof than the elves. Can her mother's report of her conception be believed? If so, it may explain much. But also raises more questions. Nevertheless, over time and in good fellowship Linetheil reveals more of herself, and I find much strength and dignity to belong to her character. She is born of a warrior woman, and I do not know if she realises how much it shows in her own courage. Considering the dangers the Sword Coast pose - especially to a lady as fair and gentle as Linetheil - I take on myself the duty of our lady's safety, and charge our brothers in arms at every opportunity to do likewise.

Raganhar came next. By first impressions he was clearly northern stock, as I had heard in tell of my grandfather's sagas - near to seven feet tall with a sword to compete in height. Blue eyed and fair haired, dressed in beast pelts. Strong - not like the soft men of the cities. He is earthy in humor, a lover of worldly pleasures - especially women - and a man who values strength over all. Though we are different in nature, we are both warriors, and there is much to admire in his might and courage and devotion to Tempus. Raganhar is a trusted ally to me - my longest ally, besides Linetheil. As long as he draws breath I know whenever evil threatens that there is always one man that I can rely on to be at my side in the charge. It just so happens that this one man counts for ten men. Raganhar - a wild heart. A good heart.

Rolan of Neverwinter. What can be said of Rolan? Raganhar and I took the young man under our wing as guardians after overhearing how much he desired to explore the realm. We found at first a man of peculiar skills - but just as ready to be revealed was the character of a man possessing virtues of honor, courtesy and above all loyalty. For our camaraderie thus far, Rolan is easily the closest to my heart. Moreso, in him, I believe Raganhar finds a little brother. After learning Rolan's reason for being in this land I endevour to assist this man on his personal quest. As the days go by, I watch him grow in skill and confidence with his swordplay - a goal of his, I know. Daily, I am pleased to have so faithful a friend at my side.

Styrbjorn. He stood there on the roadside in his beaver furs, with his feathered cap and axe and bow - the picture of an outdoorsman and survivalist. Clearly a woodsman - yet not uncivilized. I knew when I saw him he was exactly the caliber of man we needed with us. Styrbjorn joined our party as a much needed tracker, and guided us safely through the Wood of Sharp Teeth. Since then, he continues to put forward his unique skills and abilities freely, and equally freely he shares the wealth of his kind friendship, his honest humor and his camaraderie. I sense in this man a noble and a good soul, wise and clever - a thinking man. Styrbjorn hails from the Spine of the World, like Raganhar of Icewind Dale, but is more refined than our beloved barbarian. It seems he was a friend of Linetheil before he became a friend of ours - though a friend of Linetheil is always a friend of ours - and he continues to prove himself irreplacable among us.[/parchment]

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Grabbed by the Ghoulies

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Chapterhouse of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart, Baldur's Gate
The knighting of Ser Anthem Arnemeiger by the Steward, Ser Alexander Marshall

In attendance: Squire Gabriel Lancaster, Styrbjorn Bamsefar, Squire David Amraphel

Rise a Knight

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The Chapterhouse of the Order of the Radiant Heart
Ser Anthem Arnemeiger and Squire David Amraphel test their mettle and skill at arms

[Darradarljod]

The Departure and Delegation of Ser Alexander Marshall

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Ser David Amraphel of Ilmater
Knight the Order of the Radiant Heart
All hail!

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On the morning of the 18th day of Eleint a man decked in ornate platemail made his way from dawn prayers at the Temple of Torm to the pulpit of the square. He was unhurried as he ascended the stair and presented himself.

It was a Senior Knight of the Order of the Radiant Heart Auxiliary, Ser Anthem Arnemeiger. His voice was even and low echoing off of the walls of the city structures and down the nearby alleys.

"Seven days ago an acolyte of Helm stood where I stand now and addressed you, the men of Baldur's Gate. Have you hearkened to her imperatives?

Have you?

... We are the Kingdoms of Men. Glorious - but young.

Who among us can call to mind the Crown Wars? That bitter struggle of the elven races - through which hardship of war the dark tribe that were to become drow corrupted themselves in the worship of evil gods, and received in themselves the penalty for their sin.

There is a reason the drow are expelled from the light we enjoy, condemned in utter darkness by their own kind for thousands upon thousands of years. See how the elves hate them! It is an enduring hatred. And it is a righteous hatred.

We have our own history with the drow. The raids, the rape, the murder, the kidnappings and dark sacrifices... Our ancestors have blooded the altars of Lolth for generations just as - Torm forbid - they would that our descendants do."

Anthem paused, making the sign of Torm over his body slowly with an armored hand. He surveyed those gathering as he continued.

"There is no fellowship to be had with darkness, when we are sons of the light. Those who propagate friendship with the drow are enemies of man. Enemies of the Kingdoms of Men. Whether by depraved indifference or malevolent interest these reprobates are under the wrath of Torm.

Fear not. The law of the land - your land - protects you and yours by the banishment of all drow ... though, did it not also once forbid the presence of the Zhentarim?

Yes, the Zhentarim - that detestable cult of Bane, glutting themslves on human sacrifices and evil magics behind its thin venier of legitimacy; a "merchant organisation". Rest assured, Bane is nothing but a force of malevolent subjugation ever looking outward to increase its domain and authority.

The Dreadlord of Darkhold himself sits among your sons and daughters in the garden bars of our city. He walks your streets without fear. Is it right?

The law forbids wearing the symbology of Bane openly on the person; O vain law - LAUGHABLE law - when we invite those whose hearts we very well know are faithful to the Dark One!

I call it to question; have our Dukes compromised righteous law for love of mercantile, inviting evil herein? Torm the True compells me to say that they have. Laws that exist to protect the innocent have been put aside and the wolves are among the sheep. For that, I call them to repentance.

Already the tiefling go among us; demon seed, devil spawn. They carry in themselves the inheritance of the Hells and Abyss and perpetuate their corruption among the daughters of men. It is grave error, and the fall of many a righteous bloodline, that we tolerate children of beings that are the bodily manifestation of evil.

Listen closely, and you will hear the next perverted chorus; love of the drow from the lips of men.

Shall also those righteous laws set before me here that proclaim the banishment of all drow and orcs from human lands also be yielded up for the love of gold and the insistance of those who are traitors to the Realms of Men?

Stand firm, men of Baldur's Gate, and be not overcome by an evil age. There is a Loyal Fury in your heart and mine, given to us by the gods of righteous wrath for times such as these!"

Charisma check: 10+11 = 21

Active effects:
Natural Leader
Aura of Courage & Aura of Glory (for a total +9 morale bonus save vs. Fear to listeners)

Hidden: show

At the turn of dusk on the 11th day of Eleint, a heavily armoured female figure ascended the public pulpit in the Eastern Gate square and began to preach a boisterous, energetic and direct sermon regarding the recent drow activity in the region.



"Hearken, citizens of Baldur's Gate and its lawful protectors, soldiers and mercenaries of the Flaming Fist. The word has gone out into the streets, alleys and byways that the drow are once again active in our region. No further proof needs to be delivered than what already was: the accursed drow and Hellstorm pirtate named Israe'anna slaughtered on the road some leagues to the south, as every drow discovered in the light of the sun rightfully should be," she started, pausing for dramatic effect before continuing.

"The Watchers were there, Ever-Vigilant, patrolling the road which is so crucial for southward trade when this drow willingly surrendered at my command," she continued, her booming, militaristic voice issuing forth into the square and ably echoing off the distant walls of the Thayan Enclave. "And yet, and yet, there was one, the halfling merchant named Pokey, who decided to come to the defence of this black devil and parade her rights to life, safety and peace as if she were one of the common denizens of this fair city, or any other fair and civilised habitation," she again boomed out with another dramatic pause.

"It was the sensibility of an elf, known and rightful enemies of the black devils, that came to my aid when this fiend decided to take the opportunistic interregnum created by Pokey and flee. It was that elf who sensibly laid the fatal blow upon this menace, ending her life with a deft and efficient strike. And even then we were resisted from destroying the corpse with fire, as is right for this stain of evil, and instead had to 'negotiate' for its passage to Baldur's Gate intact to claim bounty whereas its severed head would have sufficed. And why?" she asked the gathering crowd, lifting her hand in the air to provoke responses from bystanders.

"Because there are those in this city, this very city, who account the black devils as their friends! There are those in this city, this very city, who believe that drow have the same right to life and justice and protection as we do, as if we were ignorant of their evil and their vices, their desires only to pillage, to plunder, to murder, to rape and to sacrifice your children as offerings to their foul and despicable gods. What rights have they under the sun?! What right to protection should they enjoy from those whose duty is to guard and protect the innocent! Their hands are perpetually covered in blood; their hearts black as their ashen skin; their minds are only set on our destruction, if it were not for the fact they are confined in the darkness beneath our feet, where they rightfully belong!!" her voice exclaimed passionately with vigorous religious fervour, trying to whip up the crowd with her impassioned argument.

"Yet hear the words of the ignorant, 'adventurers' who claim to have the best interests of this city at heart:

'I support Pokey; as for Helm, he can sod off!' Signed, one Exordius Vrass.

And more:

'I find it rich that the followers of the Great Protector, are persecuting one, whom wanted to protect another individual. Is this the Stance of the Church of Helm as a Whole? Or just an individual whom be forgetting the ethics of her god.' Signed, one Kendra.

"I warned you in public and I am criticised in public by the enemies of this city, by the collaborators with the drow, by those who would sooner kiss a black devil's lips than place a sword down its throat. The drow can never be trusted! Those who trust the drow can never be trusted! Are these the kind of people who have the best interests of Baldur's Gate at heart? Can a collaborator and defender of the drow have anything in common with us who know better? Where will the foolishness end and sensibility begin? I am criticised for failing to defend the guilty, but tell my why I should ever lift a finger in their defence in the first place! Are they innocent?! Are their hands clean? Are their hearts pure? Is it the calling of the Vigilant One to come to their aid? To give them succour in their time of need? Can anything good ever come from a drow?!" she pleaded her case as powerfully and eloquently as she could.

"It is on the Watch of the Vigilant One that oblivion comes. We are tasked to stand guard, staring into the darkness, standing and watching the evil that so constantly spurts forth into your lives. Where were the drow when this city was beseiged by the Blight? Yet the Everwatch lost many in its sacred defence. The shed blood of your loved ones, our loved ones, your lost, our lost, all whom perished in those times deserves better than this hogwash! Heed not the lies of the delusional and those who defend the drow! They cannot see into the darkness because they themselves are blind!" she emphasised as her crescendo before advancing further into the final exhortation.

"Citizens of Baldur's Gate, you know what to do to these quarrelsome know-it-all, drow-loving adventurers: spurn them from your alehouses and inns! Turn them away from your shops and your stalls! Scowl at them when they pass you in the street; spit at their feet when they wish you greetings. Let the people of Baldur's Gate cry with united voice: tolerance of drow is treason!"

Charisma Check: 10+4 = 14