Sage's Skulls and Shackles
4'2" 200lb angry ball of dwarf
Being of relative noble birth to a clan living in Taggoret, much was expected of Tarmav Ancient-Blood. Tarmav’s youth was spent learning classical dwarven military tactics and mastering various dwarven weaponry, of which, the dorn-dergar was his favorite. In his mind he was undoubtedly destined to follow a normal dwarven life. He would become the commander of a unit dwarven warriors until he grew old. He’d then likely take an advisory position and enjoy the fruits of his hard labor. But, as is evident to Tarmav now, none of this happened. Successfully completing many long and hard years of training Tarmav was finally ready to lead a unit of dwarven warriors. Tarmav’s unit swiftly became his family and they overcame many obstacles together. After numerous missions slaying orcs, trolls, giants, and less mentionable deep creatures, Tarmav’s unit was honored with a special mission. His warriors were to lead an assault into Droskar’s Crag to investigate reports of a cult of Zyphus attempting to aggitate the dormant volcano. The reports of cultists were spot on and Tarmav was prepared to oust the cultist quickly in order to prevent any disaster. As Tarmav’s unit decended into Droskar’s Crag, Krothnar, the cleric of Torag accompanying his unit, made the observation that it seemed the volcanos activity was spiking. Worried that they wouldn’t make it in time Tarmav orded his warriors to pick up the pace. Almost in a dead sprint now, Tarmav’s unit was met with the chaos of battle. Nearing the bottom of the crater Tarmav spotted the ritualists, that were clearly the cause of the volcanic spiking. Encircled on an island surrounded by magma they worked there evil magic with shouts of praise to Zyphus. The cultists flung themselves hopelessly at Tarmav in an attempt to slow him as he neared the ritualist. He realized that he would be unable to reach the island without making a series of daring jumps from boulder to boulder in the lake of magma. Whether out of self-preservation or some fiendish magic worked from the cultists, great fear befell Tarmav as he moved to make the first jump. Unable to compel himself to move further, Tarmav took cover and ordered his warriors fire upon the ritualists to disrupt their work. Although his warriors responded they quickly found that magic around the island was preventing the projectiles from striking true. As his dwarven brother were overwhelmed by cultists they began to fall. With no hope left, abandoning all he had known, Tarmav ran. Tarmav ran and didn’t look back. He escaped the crater, cutting down cultist as he fled. Droskar’s Crag did explode, killing hundreds of Taggoret dwarfs along with every single remaining cultist. Tarmav had failed. He couldn’t return to Taggoret and had no where else to go so he wandered. He wandered for what seeme like months in the mountains around the injured Taggoret. How he desperately wanted to return. In his wanderings he came upon a battalion of dwarven soldiers reveling in the destruction of a tribe of orcs. The Ninth Battalion took him in and treated him as if he were kin. Realizing his great martial potential the Battalion recruited him and put him into action. Upon his first combat he flew into a frenzy slaughtering every enemy that presented itself. Every enemy, to Tarmav, was a cultist. Was the cultist that killed all of his brothers. The cultist that struck fear into his heart that day in Droskar’s Crag. Tarmav had lost all ability to command a unit of soldiers or maintain order among them himself. Yet he desired greatly to fight. To kill every enemy. To avenge his brothers. So the Battalion sent him away. They sent him on a hopeless task. He was to search the Mwangi Expanse for a rumored lost Sky Citadel. Half-mad and with great sorrow in his heart he got on a boat destined for Port Peril.