BigPapaBelial — Roleplayer Guild

The Dwarf Miner

Moments ago?

Nine jail gaurds stood about the lip of a pit. A single thin stairs made from wood, easily broken if need be, leading down into the darkness of the pit below. This was the usual size of the detail. Sometimes bigger sometimes only one or two members smaller. Never less then three though. They stood and looked into the pit below. And listened, watching in carefully. From below the steady grunt of exertion, from below the crunch-grind of steel on stone. Here below the Maw itself, an inmate did his penance, willingly.

One guard turns to another, "Is it really true about this guy?" He asks of thr other. The other gaurd pushes up their visor revealing a grizzled old woman, tired and looking like they have seen things. She looks the first guard over, "New here?" The first guard nods, "First shift. So is it true? You jbow there are stories about some of those who are in here." The woman hums rubbing her cheek right beside a painful looking scar, "This one is the regicide..." She says and points into the pit. "Killed royaltythis one. The Dwarves gave him up to the King, couldn't deal with their own." There is a crunch from below and then a flicker of light and the gaurds startle, there in the black a face lit by candle.light. Staring up at the nine of them, as if gauging them. Then with a puff, the candle light is gone. 

The gaurds trade looks and thus none of them.see thr flitting shadow that ghost down the stairs.

It takes them an hour to realize the strike of steel on stone has stopped. Bit are told not to report it when the nine boil to the surface.

It's taken care of.

Now

The darkness is welcome. The light this strange blue light, is not.

Then the voice, no not it, no..."Yes my friend. Up now. Up."

With a groan he shifts, and feels many things. The hard shaft of something at hand, and many many hard plates, and chain, and leather a deep breath and he feels a familiar hiss and smells a familiar scent. He's in his armor and his mask and his helm with his axe pick at hand, but he's bound. Why?

He opens his eyes, and though it is shadowy a Dwarves natural darksight picks out forms, but his eyes stop on...it...that thing, woman shaped could be comely, could be curvy, but not really.

 He stares at the Warden.

Then sees the half giant, ahh someone who shares in the rage. And then stands tall the shadow moon thing. And he feels his bindings give. He sets his plated boots upon the floor, hobnails biting before he finds his footing. And a rumbling voice, "What is sought of stone?" He looks about wondering who else is here.

For a moment he bristles, eyes behind the steel mask going wide pupils dilating, and he takes up the might axe pick in one hand, weighing it anew, and for a moment he seems to be wondering how much it would take to kill them all, or if the Warden would stop him if he tried. But then with a sigh and a long low hiss through the mask Bors calms himself, no, no killing here today. No killing these ones.

No.

Not today.

His attention returns to the Warden, the others are dangerous but the Warden is the most deadly. He waits and listens.

Borslev Titanstone

In full armor, fully armored and filthy

Name

Borslev "Bors" Titanstone

Race

Mountain Dwarf - Titanite Clan

Gender

Male

Age

71 (dwarves age slightly slower then many races. He's the equivalent of a 30 year old Human)

Appearance

Black Haired, ruddy pale skin, grey eyes, grey like granite, his eyes are lidded heavily, unused to sunlight, used to the dark of caves and the red of lamp light or candle light. A full black beard running down to his waist, with the tip just reaching below his groin, thick long black whiskers, often braided by his own hand, with a few small effigies hidden within the braids. The dwarf weighs atleast 277 pounds of solid dwarven muscle, most of it in his chest, arms and neck which are thick and corded. His build is squat and powerful, muscle all about his chest, neck, arms and shoulders, built from hard work, and deep hardship, every second of which he's damned proud of. He wears thick leather clothing, of dwarven design, which before it was taken from him was the padding under a Dwarven Deep Miners Adamant Steel armor. Now it's one of his very few outfits, and damn if anyone is going to take it from him. He has a pair of rings, one of his left pinky the other on his right forefinger. The left one is marked with the Titanite Clan sigil of two crossed hammers on a blue azurite background. The right one is the sigil of the Titanstone Family Mining Company, a pick crossed over a mining charge laid with silver on a onyx stone in a silver band. He broke the skull and nearly killed the guard who tried to take them, the other guards left it be after he near throttled a second guard who tried to take the rings.

Personality

Bors is gruff, easy to anger like alot of dwarves can be yet kind and initially seems like an affable and courteous type. Far from the kind of person who should be in the Maw. Until we realize all that kindness and courtesy hides a seething rage and easy wish to hurt people. He can be laughing and popping dirty jokes and limericks one second before launching into a near psychopathic rage and wailing on someone with anger controlled strikes of brutal hands and feet.

The dwarf exhibits all the hidden signs of some who temper is held barely in check by a powerful willpower and need to be useful. 

Likes - Good tools, beer/ale/whiskey, the quiet of a deep mine and the strike of an axe pick on stone, finding that rare treasure in the dark of the mine.

Dislikes - Braggarts, loud environments, rowdy company, getting a raw deal.

Background

It's a fine tale we weave sometimes.

Borslev Titanstone, born into the parent family of the Titanite Clan. Third son to Lord Mine Keeper Talosin Titanstone and his wife Lady Keykeeper of the Mine Reia Titanstone nee Stormpick of the Stormstone Clan. Both of Bors parents coming from valued and powerful families. The Stormstones being one of the most wealthy when it came to property among the Clans. While his father being the current Lord Mine Keeper of the Titanite mining empire, fourth largest mining family and company in the dwarven under kingdom of The Westerlands, and the other three mining clans just barely kept their lead out of yields rather then through sheer size. So Bors was brought up in very prestigious settings. A fine strapping lad from birth. coming into the world with lusty wails and has been said to have kicked his father in the nose when his father first came to pick him up from his mother's arms.

But as fits the third son he was told if he inherits it'd be only if his older brothers were to die or be exiled. Bors didn't mind.

 He threw himself into his education as soon as he could. Dwarven schools being more apprenticeships then human schools. He bounced from master to master for the years between 9 and 13, getting a taste for the 5 main trades of the Dwarven kind, blacksmithing, silversmithing, goldsmithing, brewing and mining. With sometime also looking at soldiering, growing food and artificing. He took to mining with gusto, apprenticing to one of his uncles in one of the Titanite cadet families the Titanhammer family. Taught how to read write and figure beside his lessons and training in strength, endurance, tunnel digging and how to handle an axe pick properly. The details of how to spot hidden cracks in stone and what to watch for to escape accidentally waking the things that sleep in the deep of the earth. His early life into his 30s was spent learning and finding his place in the mines and in the family. When he reached 35 he was asked to pick an advanced vocation, and chose the role of Deep Miner. Those Dwarves who brave the deepest part of a mine places where a pick hasn't struck yet, where things in the deep may lurk, a place where the dim light of a candle maybe the only light you see for weeks before you break into a hidden cavern of diamond or mythril deep in the earth.

Upon reaching 40 he returned to his family, welcomed by his father and mother, and officially welcomed into the main family mines. It wad one of the finest days of his life. And he worked until 50 years old without problems.

Until his 57th year. He had gone out to a tavern with his mining squad. This was the day he killed for the first time that wasn't some deep mine beast or feral goblinoid mine invader.  A bar fight broke out, but Bors believed he was far enough away he could ignore it. And putting it out of his mind he drank and ate. And was happy with his ale and meal that he didn't hear the fight getting closet. Until someone crashed unto him, and his ale, stew, bread and waiting bread pudding ended up into his beard. He got to his feet, turned and swung he heavy steel tankard in his hand at the closest member of the fight. The dwarf went stiff and pitched to the floor. Unbeknownst to Bors the dwarf was dead a single hefty blow having killed him, even more unknown was the dwarf had been the captain of a noted mining militia. Bors left before the death wad found out. But was found the day after as he wad making ready to head into the mine. Bors was taken away and questioned, only after 7 hours did his father find out and by them Bors had been beaten, the Militia colonel trying to make his confess to a murder despite it being an accident. His father and his lawyers though showed up and cowed the colonel into leaving it be. But this was the start of Bors internalized rage. He stuffed all that anger over being interrogated down for now, holding it deep deep done like the mine and cave passages he traveled in.

It was a few weeks later when he killed for his second time, a member of that militia tailed him and tried to meters out revenge foe the killing of the captain. The soldier jumped Bors and tried to choke him out between mine passages. But the big dwarf that he is Bors lifted the Dwarven soldier and in a fit of anger pitched him down a mine shaft. Bors reported the assault this time. But he secretly reveled in having killed the dwarf.

Over the next year he'd be challenged too no less the four duels by progressively higher ranked dwarven militia and soldiers. Until one fat he was in the Grand Arena of the Dwarven High Kings Hold, facing off against a General of the Dwarven Self Defense Force. The kings envoy had told him specifically that he was going to throw this fight, to stop this farce of high ranked dwarves either dying or being humbled by a mere deep Miner. The duel was one sided alright. But this was the first time that Bors family got to watch that hidden rage in their scion. The general came into the arena decked out in ceremonial leather armor made for show with a ceremonial double bladed battle axe. Bors entered with his axe pick sharpened to a gleaming finish, his heavy thick Adamant armor, freshly mended with new plates and chain mail added. The fight was one sided alright. Bors' anger and rage was silent only voiced by his soft grunts of effort as he hacked and pierced at the general with powerful swings. Eleven minutes the duel lasted. Eleven minutes where Bors ended up leaving nine huge gashes in the general armor, nine bleeding holes. And Bors only grew to hate and rage even more when the High King stopped the duel then the High King of the Dwarves ruled in favor of the general even as the general lay bleeding. Bors swallowed that rage and anger. And left. Returning to the mine, but dwarves knew something was deep inside Bors  something angry, something waiting. 

It'd be in his 68th year that he was strangely called to the High Hold again. And when he would kill his highest ranked people ever. He was shown into a parlor in a very elegant restaurant. Met by three people. A human envoy from the Westerland court, a Dwarven Thane Lord. And Prince of the Dwarven Realm Naluir Goldbeard, son of the High King. A noted deep.miner sitting in the same room as such august people. What the hell? 

Soon though Bors rage and anger began to boil roil and seeth. The thane and the prince had invited Bors not ad a guest but as a joke, they recounted Bors duels like they were children's tails to the human calling Bors and his family liars and cheap fools. The laughter and gaiety were loud and raucous. Until everything went quiet. For an extended time. Finally a servant entered the room. And found only Bors alive. Covered in a layer of blood and viscera. The envoy dead, the thane dead and the prince...hung from a rafter by his innards. All showing signs of being beaten and killed in a rage filled attack.

His father couldn't safe him now, not when it was recounted Bors had just continued eating and drinking even as the Hold Guards arrived and arrested him. And certainly couldn't help him when during the trial before the mourning high King it was retold how Bors had nearly beaten the interrogator to death as well.

The deepest gaol mines were  too good for Borslev Titanstone, it was said, execution was too good. The High King petitioned The Human king to send Bors to the Maw.

Yes it's a fine, terrible story we weave.

Talents

Mining - No stranger to moving and working in Confined spaces, a close understanding of the hazards of the deep places.

Explosives Training - Learned in the creation, usage of and capabilities of explosives, especially in the case opening charges.

Heavy Arms and Armor training - A deep Miner will live or die by how well maintained his armor and axe pick are.

Close Quarters Fighter - Used to close spaces and fight so close you can feel your opponents breath and smell their sweat.

Understanding of Old terrors - Has been witness to some of the things that live in the deep deep dark places of the world, things, beasts and demons that some can only imagine.

Flaws

Deep Rage - Bors is not well. He appears to be kind and approachable but deep in the core of his being, is a rage that is so lead dense and hard as steel that its almost supplanted his other emotions.

Light of the sun - Ah fuck that's bright ahh why am I up here!

Fear of Old Terrors - Once you've seen something made of shadow, lightning and beaks boil up out of hard stone and swallow another dwarf whole, and leave you alone with not a single sound made even you would fear them.

Lust for the Deep Rage - I think he likes it...dear gods...I think he likes it!

I need to mine, I want to mine! - Mining is his coping mechanism, so to keep him calm he's allowed to help broaden the Maws underground facilities...under close and strict watch of course.

Equipment

Full suit of Adamant Steel armor - made from mythril, mixed with dwarven steel, meteorite iron and diamond dust, a suit of Adamant armor is the only thing that can stand the pressures of the deep mines and the shadowed claws and teeth of the things down there

Head torch - Candle powered head torch casting a small pool of yellow light

Deep Mines axe pick - a mining pick and a battle axe married as one versatile tool

Deep Mines Face Mask - Part breathing mask part face protection  one very scary metal visage.

Miscellaneous
If I think of more I'll put it here

BigPapaBelial Member

I have seen you...I have watched you...

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