Basic Information Name: Gol Dero Aliases: Gender: male Race: half-dragon Age: unknown, and hard to guess on his draconic face Profession: mercenary Voice: speaks with a calm, deep voice, which is always rather loud, even when he's attempting to whisper
Physical Information Height: over 7 feet tall Weight: around 300 lbs without equipment Body build: compact, muscular and agile at same time Skin type: dark, almost black scales Scars: on close examination, many old scars can be seen around his body Eyes: steely gray Skin: black Mental Information Alignment: Lawful Evil Philosophy: People get the punishment they deserve eventually Deity/Beliefs: Tiamat, but not especially religious Faction: Mercykiller, namer Personality:
[u]Calm[/u] [i]Slow to anger, but also slow to forgive[/i] [u]Hoarder[/u] [i]Collects things he finds, especially gems[/i] [u]Protective[/u] [i]Generally will step in if someone picks on someone weaker than them[/i] [/li]
Additional Information Gear: Carries two weapons openly, one a greatsword that appears to be made of pockmarked old iron, but obviously powerfully enchanted. The other a golden hued greataxe. Jewelry: Wears rings and necklace, both they all seem weakly enchanted. Habbits/hobbies: Does spend quite a bit of time drinking at bars. General Health: The old wound he had for more than a year is finally healed, leaving him in the best shape of his life. Favorite Drink: Ale, without other preferences. Weaknesses: Knowing a little of everything, Gol isn't really specialist in anything, so can usually be bested by an expert in the field.
<< when I designed Gol Dero, I used the Fate rpg system of aspects, five different ones at various points in his life, all five revealed now >>
Born from a human mother and a shadow dragon father, Gol's life was never peaceful. His father had long since abandoned his mother as she died during childbirth, no wonder considering Gol's size and physical features. His godmother made sure he lived after birth but little else, fortunately his dragon blood made him pretty much able to manage on his own not long after birth. He spent his early years close to the village he was born, mostly scavenging what food he could, and learning how to survive.
Aspect: Blood of Dragon and Shadow
It didn't take too long for people in the city to react to his presence. Even though they knew he was the child of one of their townspeople, he was never accepted as an equal. At best he was viewed as cursed, and at worst a danger to them all. Teenage kids would make fun of him and even hold him down and beat him up, gleefully noting that his scales would let them keep going for a long time before he would lose consciousness. With no parents or others to stand up for him, he could do little except endure.
Aspect: The freak is always alone
In his early teens the beatings stopped, since his dragon blood had now asserted itself to the point where he was stronger than grown men, and had sharp claws too. The kids would still tease him however, just keeping their distance as they did so. Finally one day, Gol had enough, and decided it was time to pay back for all the torment he'd received over the years. He stalked and hunted down everyone who had ever wronged him, and slew them in cold blood. Leaving every innocent villager untouched. After he finished his gruesome revenge, he left the town, never to return.
Aspect: Vengeance tenfold is justice
In his travels he had many mentors, teaching him the arts of blade, stealth and magic. All of the skills came easily to him, due to his bloodline and intelligence. As every mentor would praise him and tell him how amazing his quick progress was, he'd have mixed feelings, wondering if the only reason why he was any good at anything was his freakish dragon blood giving him strength and powers.
Aspect: Is my blood my only asset?
Having trained under many mentors, Gol discovered that he rarely worked well for extended times under mentors that would demand his obedience. His nature for dominance had asserted itself, and his confidence in his own abilities had grown to the point where he would rather demand people follow his lead than follow another. Even so, he is smart enough to listen to carefully worded advice from people he trusts.
Gol sits in his room, holding to the wound at his side.
I've hired the right person to find myself a healer he thought to himself. This Abby person sounds like a promising lead, but unlikely I'll get to meet with her in time before the next bloodwar engagement. But it's been months, I can manage through this as well.
Taking out his large iron greatsword, he gently cleans it, feeling the magic pulse inside it, wanting to taste blood of its enemies. The blade itself serrated, but not looking like any sort of a well forged blade. But its cruel enchantment makes it fearsome and effective.
Gol Dero steps into a dark hallway deep in the prison complex, although his mass is huge, he steps lightly, barely making a sound. He comes to a stop near a cell at the end of the hallway, where the bars and lock both seem rusted shut, the prisoner here has been in this small cell for a very long time.
Caleb: "Is that you Ralek?"
Gol Dero: "No."
Caleb: "Gol? You haven't been to visit me in years, I thought you were dead. Your replacement certainly seemed to think you were."
Gol Dero: "I was merely indisposed for a while."
Caleb laughs a rasping chuckle "You were assumed dead by your faction, and your replacement had alot of interesting things to tell me about you."
Gol Dero remains silent.
Caleb: "You are favoring your right side somewhat, and standing slightly leaned to the left, and you smell of blood, not fresh. You're injured."
Gol Dero: "Just a wound from adventuring."
Caleb: "And yet it's not healed, and you seem to have had it a while, you should let me take a look at it. You know my surgical skills."
Gol Dero: "Killing and cutting up people you mean, not the person I'd trust with a scalpel."
Caleb: "Now you are wounding me, I am quite a skilled healer, and you got the order wrong, it was cutting then killing."
Gol Dero ignores his comment "You are almost up for parole."
Caleb: "Has it been that long already? 15 years. Hard to tell how much time passes down here, can't see the light of peak, and I lost track of using meals to count days after the first two years."
Gol Dero: "Too short if you ask me, I would have torn you to pieces like you did your victims and given the pieces to the dusties."
Caleb: "Now, now, if it wasn't for the deal we made you never would have found most of the remains of my victims, and their identities. Besides, I'm a new man now, I'm repenting and plan on trying to become a productive member of society."
Gol Dero chuckles "Others may believe that, but I know you, I saw your victims, and the pleasure you took in what you did. You will always be a monster."
Caleb: "That is ironic coming from you, atleast I am human, and not a half-breed freak."
Gol Dero: "You are worse, you were born human, and then sold your soul to a demon willingly for power. You chose to become a monster."
Caleb: "I admit I've done mistakes, and I'm trying to set things right. And the scream listener, Nabasezd is no longer dictating my actions, I've broken that pact.
Gol Dero: "Broken or not, it holds a contract on your soul, you're already damned to the abyss when you die."
Caleb: "Which may yet be a very long time, as the power granted to me slowed my aging considerably, perhaps long enough to find redemption for my soul before my time is up. Ralek has been talking to me about Paladine, and the path to atonement. Noone is beyond redemption Gol, not even me or you."
Gol Dero: "I don't care about redemption, I only look for justice."
Caleb: "Ah yes, I heard of how you came to become a member of your faction, what justice you dealt out. Good thing the prime isn't part of Sigil's jurisdiction isn't it? It sounded a lot like mass murder to me."
Gol Dero: "It wasn't murder, it was justice dealt out by my hand. None of those I killed were innocent of wrong-doing."
Caleb: "And yet, many were no more than children, guilty of things any child would do when faced with someone who doesn't fit in."
Gol Dero: "They weren't any younger than I was."
Caleb: "Perhaps, but you had a good foot or two on their height? and razor-sharp claws, hardly a fair fight."
Gol Dero: "It wasn't a fight, it was justice."
Caleb: "You massacred every person in your home village who wronged you. Keep your illusions if you want, but you don't fool me. You enjoyed killing them, and in that we're the same, except that I admit my failings and am trying to redeem myself."
Gol Dero turns to leave "We are nothing like eachother. Mark my words, you'll be back in this cell within a year."
Gol had just finished a small task he was hired for, fanning the flames of the great foundry with fiery magic to keep it as hot as possible, for the lich to create his Golem.
After the golem was completed, Gol exacted payment by having the lich lay powerful enchantments on Gol's newly forged abyssal bloodiron axe. Gol honed and sharpened the axe in the residual heat that was left from several arcanists heating it, the same fire that created the golem.
Finally satisfied with the axe, the real work began. Most who know Gol would know different aspects of him, some think him a necromancer for having undead servants, or illusionist for using shadow magic, others concentrate on his strength or skill with the blade. What very few realize however, is that Gol's real talent in arcane magic lies in transmuting one thing to another.
Gol started chanting, changing the structure of the greataxe metal, slowly changing it, piece by piece.
His thoughts wander to his discussion with Kelth earlier that day.
As I change this axe to fit my needs, I may put him to good use as well. He is a conflicted one, easily pushed, and transparent, it did not take me many questions to figure out his exact morality, and strength of conviction in them.
We all have a fate Kelth, he echoed his conversation from earlier. However, some lights make several shadows. I may still find good use for you in one direction or another, but with caution, so that you do not turn on me, which could easily happen.
His thoughts interrupted, he looked down at the axe, now the red iron was completely changed, to a golden hue, transmuted into pure orihalcon, strong as adamantine yet a noble metal able to harm lycanthropes and devils.
I may work for the baatezu currently, but it doesn't hurt to have a weapon able to bring them harm should they turn on me. And this axe will do.
Around him, people of the foundry were watching, curious about how he was changing the axe. Loudly he proclaimed: I name you Orixus, Slayer of Oathbreakers
Gol slowly removed the tight bandages from his side, the wound now closed. The hive ward healer had done decent job cleaning the wound.
Tentatively, Gol began doing some basic stretch exercises, when suddenly a sharp pain struck in his side.
"Not again... I swear, if I ever get this wound removed I will track down all these healers that aren't worth the name and I'll..." He sat down, the sharp pain in the side leaving him out of breath.
"But I guess I should go to the follow up to this one first, perhaps his research helped him find a solution..."
As Gol stepped out of the Weary Spirit Infirmary he took at deep breath and stretched. "Finally, the wound is gone, I feel alive, strong, ready to take on anything and anyone"
In his hand he held the broken tip of the longsword that had been lodged inside him. "Just something so mundane, who could have known"
Picking up his axe, he left for the abyss, to celebrate his newfound health by slaying some demons.
