Muspell Heavyhand, Deep Gnome Illusionist

aka Muspell the Immolated, Muspell the Unlucky, Last Son of Clan Heavyhand

Muspell Heavyhand is a deep gnome illusionist. He is hunchbacked and burn-scarred, and the left side of his face is paralyzed in a grimace. Lacking eyebrows and his head a web of scar tissue, Muspell prefers to shave off what little black hair still grows there. His slate-grey eyes are rarely visible because of the dark-lensed goggles he keeps on unless he is underground. To avoid stares in very populated areas, Muspell usually hides behind his illusion magic. He is gruff in all senses of the word but also sagacious. He is paranoid, neurotic, and has a short, violent temper, but is ultimately good-hearted and fiercely loyal to those who have won his trust. He speaks little of the Underdark, so full of shame are his memories there.

Muspell was born during the Festival of the Star Ruby in the remote deep gnome outpost of Eudialyte, far below the Kron Hills. Though birth at such a time is usually considered an auspicious omen, Muspell's life has been anything but lucky. Nearly strangled by his own umbilical cord, it was only through the intervention of a skilled midwife that he survived his first day. He was the only child of his family, and unusually happy and curious. He was always poking around the forbidden corners of his family's property, a sly grin on his angular face.

Muspell idolized his father Surtr, a mighty breachgnome who answered directly to the king. Shortly after his family was moved to the outskirts of the territory for a long term assignment, they were attacked by a band of drow. Muspell's father was on patrol when the drow came; Muspell hid successfully and watched from the shadows as the drow viciously butchered his mother. When Surtr returned, he vowed vengeance upon the dark elves and departed with his son in tow.

Muspell spent his adolescent years deep in the drow tunnels following his father in his quest for revenge. Father spoke to son but minimally, numb to all feelings but rage. A gnome possessed, Surtr provided but the barest essentials for his son's survival as he cut his way through the drow ranks. Eventually making their way to the temple of the drow priestess that ordered the raid, Muspell and his father stumbled into a chamber with a surprise - a chained red dragon. The dragon attacked instinctively with its flame breath. When Muspell came to, his body seethed with the pain of a full body burn.

As a slave of the drow priestess he'd come to kill, he often wished he'd succumbed to his injuries that day. Muspell was beaten daily and nearly driven mad by starvation, surviving only on carrion rats and mold scraped from the corners of his cell. The priestess loved to tease him about his dead father as she forced him to do humiliating acts for her entertainment, ranging from the sadistic to the disgusting. He managed to escape his cell one night while the priestess did battle with a rival in the nave of her temple. While sneaking out, Muspell stole a book from under an altar, hoping its pages might provide some nourishment for his aching belly. After somehow finding his way outside of the city, he opened the book. The eldritch tome contained profane secrets unfit for a sane mind, and would have killed him outright with its energies if he were not already half insane. The experience left the poor young gnome in a coma.

Muspell would not awaken until nearly a year later, back in the outpost of his birth. Though the book was nowhere to be found, its evil had infected his psyche, the images within burned into his brain. He was physically rehabilitated and adopted by a family friend, the illusionist Segojan Seamseeker. Unfortunately, Muspell's mind had been warped by his traumatic childhood in such a way that he exhibited antisocial behavior, eventually driving away even his would-be guardian. Forswearing all kinship, he threw himself into physical training, hoping to join the king's forces to avenge his parents. He was rejected, however; years of abuse and malnourishment during his younger years had left him stunted and weak. Broken, Muspell attempted to succeed where his own umbilical cord had failed by hanging himself.

He awoke with Segojan standing over him. 'Your sword arm may not be strong, but you possess a strength far rarer.' Segojan pointed to his head. 'That of the mind. Study under me and channel your pain into a power which will aid you in your future.'

Muspell saw no other path. He was simply not strong enough to be a miner or gemcutter, he thought. He accepted. He started his studies late, but by adulthood he'd overtaken his apprentice peers in magical proficiency. He simply had the knack. The confidence that accompanied this proficiency produced an emotion quite alien in him: confidence.

Muspell began, cautiously, to try his hand at courtship. The object of his affections was Frigga Seamseeker. Though Segojan carried many reservations about a relationship between Muspell and his daughter, he withheld them with the hope that Muspell and his daughter, who was herself troubled by mental illness, might find mutual comfort.

Frigga was apprehensive at first. Muspell was kyphotic and scarred from head to toe, marked by dragonfire and drow's whip. His demeanor was vulgar and uncultured. Yet, within him she saw the boy that once explored caves fearless and with a permanent smile, the boy whose only joy was to be nuzzled in the crook of his mother's neck. They married in the Temple of the Earthcaller, and for the first time in his life, Muspell wept with joy.

All seemed to be well, but for one thing. Months went by and Muspell failed to consummate the union. He was simply... impotent. Muspell came to realize to his great shame that he was only aroused by drow, the image of his former captor. Frigga tried to be understanding but grew impatient. She wished for children. Indignance turned into arguments and arguments turned into yelling matches.

Eventually, Frigga struck Muspell with a particularly strong verbal volley. Surtr was not dead, she claimed. He had been imprisoned as a traitor for abandoning his post, and lay crippled in the burrow's dungeons. She painted Muspell an idiot for his ignorance. Muspell screamed with the rage of his father and threw a stone pot at Frigga, barely missing her. He flew to the dungeons, where he found Surtr, missing an arm and leg and pockmarked with burn scars. Muspell dared not interrupt his father's labored snores, and forthwith journeyed to the surface, cursing his land and its people and swearing never to return.

Once on the surface, Muspell was taken in by the Temple of St. Cuthbert in Hommlet for a time. Muspell took to St. Cuthbert's teachings of common sense, though they did not come naturally to a gnome. He became a lay follower of the church, and began carrying a book of his teachings with him, meditating on those teachings when in despair. He also found a new purpose at the temple: to hunt chaos wherever it lurks.

Muspell now hunts monsters. He sees himself as a monster who kills monsters, and is happy to have found strong, trustworthy allies to aid him in that goal. Maybe, if he destroys enough evil, he will find the peace he so desperately craves.

War Crimes? The Clerics didn't seem concerned.

 I for one will be sleeping fine tonight.  We buried the clan brothers and Cannon Terry Or gave them a nice send off to the next realm.  The Abbey and the Witch who got away will be dealt with in the morning.  I was surprised to see they raised an Ettin.  Some new dark power must be backing them.  

They said something about a Spider Queen.  My hand goes to the brand on the back of my shoulder.  It must be her people.  Twice we have seen her servants called the Drow now.  I hope not.  She is worse than the Temple of Elemental Evil.  

More than just chaos she is TERROR and HATE!

Dixon Lumlir Dwarf of the Toy Makers Guild

Rangers of the Gnarley

The Rangers of the Gnarley Forest 

Description:

This association of 200-plus rangers has as its primary goal the protection of the Gnarley Forest. Its concern lies with the health of the forest: its members care little for the politics that may surround it, except as the directly affect it. While the rangers would not wish to see the entire forest fall under the control of the City of Greyhawk (or any faction, for that matter), it welcomes the assistance of the Greyhawk Militia in protecting the Gnarley and its dwellers.

This group is loosely organized. No individual is responsible for certain territory, but each is likely to have favored sections where he knows the residents and the terrain especially well. The group does not have leaders who give orders, but instead recognizes a number of Ranger Knights who meet every two or three months at Corustaith to exchange information. These Ranger Knights are also responsible for training younger rangers; the younger rangers swear a personal allegiance to their knight, promising to protect the forest, help good folk in need, and revere a good deity (usually Ehlonna).

Rangers of any level may join this group. A hopeful ranger must locate one of the Ranger Knights, undergo an interview process and a number of wilderness tests and offer several references.

Role:

The Gnarley Rangers are known for their efforts in protecting this vast woodland.

They monitor lumbering, flush out bandits and humanoids and safeguard the humans who dwell in the forest. Enemies include the orcs, gnolls and ogres of the Blackthorn cavern, occasional humanoid patrols from the Pomarj, and evil cult members who have been chased from neighboring states and now skulk in the Gnarley.

Generally rangers will are assigned to protect farmland and small villages.

Secondary Skills:

Required:

Bowyer/fletcher, forester, hunter, OR trapper/furrier.

Weapon Proficiencies: Required: bow (any), dagger or knife. Recommended: axe (any), sling, spear, sword (any).

Nonweapon Proficiencies:

Bonus: Animal lore, survival (woodland). Recommended: Bowyer/fletcher, direction sense, fire building,

hunting, modern languages (elvish, gnomish, pixie, nixie, treant), rope use, set snares, weather sense.

Equipment:

No equipment is required to become a Gnarley Ranger, hut each member knows he is responsible for his own weapons, rations, survival equipment and other goods to provide for comfort in the wild. All rangers are given an oakleaf insignia which identifies their membership and rank in the group.

Special Benefits:

The rangers are a team that will come to the aid of their brothers and sisters at the first cry for help. They use a secret code of whistles and chirps that can summon aid almost immediately (if someone is within earshot). They also have a secret language made up of verbal and nonverbal cues. So subtle is this system that two Gnarley Rangers might use the code amid a group without the non-rangers even realizing that they are doing so. The system works well for communicating basic ideas and information about weather, forest conditions, strangers and so on, hut has no applications for abstract concepts.

The Rangers have a working knowledge of the secret druidic language. It functions as a thief's Read Languages skill (spoken word only) at 5% per experience level above the first. They also make use of a complex set of symbols that involve scratches on trees or logs, woven tree branches and marks on other forest plants to advise their fellow rangers of nearby dangers or resources.

It is said by some that these rangers have gained the cooperation of the wild animals from time to time. This most often involves animals dragging a wounded ranger to safety or providing a warning that danger is imminent.

Gnarley Rangers can gain hospitality from all the folk of the woodlands merely by showing their insignia. Those who are native to the Gnarley Forest are 90% capable of identifying plants, animals and safe fesh water within the forest.

Special Hindrances:

Gnarley Rangers must stay close to the Gnarley Forest. They may spend no more than six months at a time away from the forest. For longer journeys, rangers normally seek the approval (they do not need actual permission) of their Ranger Knight. A ranger who spends too much time away from the forest without good reason may be asked to turn in his oak leaves.

Rangers do not get along well in cities. They may be perceived as easy targets for cheats and con games. They may forget matters of etiquette or be uncomfortable in the urban environment, resulting in penalties to reaction checks, outrageously inflated prices (“Hey, look at Jungle Jim! He couldn’t possibly know that an evening meal doesn’t cost 12 gold pieces!”) or other minor but annoying troubles.

Wealth Options:

Normal for rangers.

Since the Gnarley Rangers tend to live off the land and have little opportunity for earning money, they usually get by on much less gold (and have less need for it) than other rangers. 

Races: Any human except Rhennee and half-elf.

Level Progression:

As Normal

At level 7, a Ranger may go thru an ancient ceremony that which involves the drinking of the blood of a werebear. This allows the Ranger to change into a bear (usually brown bear) as a druid of the same level.  They also speak the language of bears.

Ware and were, friend is a greeting used by and to rangers of the Gnarley Forest, who have many friends among the werebears there. When used by an outsider, it indicates the courtesy to learn something of the rangers’ ways.

Oath:

My oath is to the forest, my loyalty unwavering. Until the last oak falls, I shall remain its guardian.

Chapter 3 / Episode 61 - The Watchtower Fallen

Chapter 3 / Episode 61 – The Watchtower Fallen

Coldeven 19–20, 576 CY

Weather:
Freezing — 21°F to 42.7°F
Light breeze (NE) | A few clouds | No precipitation

Players:

• Dog, Ranger of the Gnarley Forest

• Irving, the Reluctant, Paladin of St. Cuthbert

• TerryOr, Cleric of St. Cuthbert

• Dixon, Dwarven Fighter

• Oleg, Half-Elf Magic-User / Cleric of St. Cuthbert

• Tiger Wong, Monk of the Eastern Lands

• Muspell Heavyhand, Gnome Illusionist

---

The road from Hommlet was quiet but tense, winter’s hand still clutching the land in brittle silence. The party made good time across the rutted road and arrived in the hamlet of Humming’s End before sunset. A warm stable, a hot meal at the broken sword, and a fresh riding horse—newly purchased by Irving—marked the only peace of the day.

But dawn brought purpose.

Guided by grim intent, the adventurers turned east toward the Watchtower*—a site they had once cleared and left to the care of Dixon’s kin. Smoke greeted them before the walls did. And silence—too much silence.

The Ettin came with the wind, crashing through the tree-line. Twelve goblins followed, hurling spears and curses. Irving’s charge was swift, his lance piercing deep into the Ettin’s flank. Before it could retaliate, TerryOr invoked holy fire—Flame Strike—and the beast fell, screaming as it burned.

The goblins broke.

Dog and Dixon gave chase. Oleg whispered an incantation, dropping sixteen of the fleeing creatures where they stood. The rest were dispatched. One lived—to answer questions.

“They came from the Abbey,” a goblin would confess later—after its kin had scattered and bled. The garb of the Water Temple marked them, unmistakable now.

The dwarves lay slaughtered. The construction, razed. Blood froze in the mud. Dixon knelt beside one of the bodies, jaw clenched. 

That night, beneath the fractured stars, the adventurers buried Dixon’s kin. No songs were sung. Only silence and the scrape of frozen earth.

The road to Safeton would have to wait. Vengeance had returned to the map.

* Note - Dixon purchased 4 kegs of stout to be delivered to the watchtower (possibly to surprise the worker), but with no one to deliver, the group decided to pay a visit to the watchtower since it is along the way.

The Goldheart Bridge and the Tower of the Winsome Rose on the Ulek Pass Road in the County of Goldenfields, Duchy of Ulek.

 

The Goldheart Bridge and the Tower of the Winsome Rose on the Ulek Pass Road in the County of Goldenfields, Duchy of Ulek.

The dwarves to the North on the Dwarven Lumlir Bridge will give you two reasons not to cross the Goldheart Bridge to the South.

1. it is made of straw. IT IS MADE FROM STRAW and ELVEN MAGIC! It could collapse or burst into flame at any minute. Any second now!

2. You have to pay their toll. It is not any sensible toll. They don’t want gold, silver, electrum, or even copper. No they want you to hug and kiss them. Not just once but on each cheek. Then they hug and kiss you on each cheek.

Thus the dwarves did build the South Road to Harrington for free. They claim they could not have the deaths of travelers on their hands.

Built to honor the Elven Goddess Hanali Celenil, The Heart of Gold, The Winsome Rose, The Archer of Love, The Kiss of Romance, the Lady of the Goldheart there is the Goldheart Bridge and the Tower of the Winsome Rose in the County of Goldenfields in the Duchy of Ulek. The bridge woven from wheat, straw, love, and elven magic is a testament to the craftsmanship of the elves who live in the county.

 The tower is woven from many roses planted by the elves long ago. It rises high into the air and is naturally defended by it’s great sharp thorns. Protected from fire and lightning by elven magic and charms. They say when the flowers bloom it is a wonder of the world.

Both the Tower and the Bridge are Commanded by the High Elf Lady Nerivyre Lannalaraeas (10^th Level Cleric/F/MU – CG) who worships Hanali Celenil. Second in command is Lady Dafina Amberfate the Half Elf (7^th Level F/T/MU – CG) and she worships the Goddess Hanali Celenil. There is an additional 35 to 45 other high and half elves serving the tower at any time. 

 The tower has 2 lower levels. The lowest level houses 4 cells that are hardly ever used and a guard chamber. The level above houses the great common room which has 24 cots for travelers and the great kitchen. There is also a pantry room, armory room, and miscellaneous equipment room.   

Take note that in the last seven years or so it is common for two or three rangers to be lounging about the Winsome Rose Tower.  In the last year suspicion of these Rangers has increased.  This is due to the fact in the last year it has become common knowledge that the Ranger Knight of Barleyton was given the seed for his Ranger Tree House Tower by the Grey Elf Countess Tillahi of Celene.  

Ulek Pass Road from City of Enstad, Faerie Kingdom of Celene to City of Barleyton, Duchy of Ulek there is the Bridge of Lumlir in the Earldom of Saprisarn.

Ulek Pass Road from City of Enstad, Faerie Kingdom of Celene to City of Barleyton, Duchy of Ulek there is the Bridge of Lumlir in the Earldom of Saprisarn.

The Bridge is controlled by the Lord of Saprisarn Mountain who lives in the Hall of Lumlir. This is Haxor Lumlir the Dwarf Lord (9th Level Fighter - NG). Long ago Haxor's father Lumlir proposed to the Earls of Ulek that he could build a bridge of dwarven stone across the river. The High Elves of Chalcedor Earldom had been negotiating a new Northern Road thru the Ulek Pass with the Grey Elves of Celene.

The Half Elven Earl of Saprisarn agreed to make the Lumlir Family Sheriffs of the Bridge and give them a hall in Saprisarn Mountain to be their home forever. Providing the said hall would host his younger brother's fencing school.

Thus, the hall is home to the Saprisarn College of Fencing. This school is led by Dean Mortmier Saprisarn Half Elf (Level 11 Duelist - CG). The school is small 12 to 22 students at any one time. The Hall of Lumlir is also home to the Toy Makers Guild. The Toy Makers Guild famous for their craftwork throughout the land. The overall settlement is small with a population of 450 to 600 folk. Most of the people living here are dwarves.

As Sheriff of the Bridge of Lumlir Haxor has a reputation for hiring on deputies with reputations that might preclude them from employment elsewhere in the Duchy of Ulek. They are known as a fierce and formidable fighting force. However, one must remember that in the mountains laws are often seen as just suggestions. 50% of the Toll is awarded to the Earldom of Saprisarn, 20% to bridge maintenance. 15% to the Sheriff and Deputies of the Bridge, and the final 15% is given to the Earldom of Chalcedor.

The Lumlir Family are all sworn swords to the Earl of Saprisarn. They are known in all Elven Halls as loyal friends of the Elves. If any elf should have a problem with that the Famed Half Elf Duelist Mortmier Saprisarn is always ready.

There is a Tavern House, Stables, Market Stalls, and Roadside Shrine on the Saprisarn side of the bridge.

The Roadside Shrine is for Fharlanghn and was there long before the Dwarves came to the bridge area. It is attended by one old Cleric who goes by Jarn (8th level Cleric Human - NG).

The Tavern House Nightsong is operated by four Halflings Bingere (Level 4 Thief - CG), his wife Analiese (Level 2 Thief - CG), Philorn (Level 3 Fighter - NG), his wife Poppyseed (Level 2 Thief - CG). The halflings do their best to have clean and orderly house of up to 10 rooms (29% chance it is booked up for the night). The kitchen is of course open for First Breakfast, Second Breakfast, Tea Time, Lunch, Dinner, Supper, and Midnight Snack in the Halfling Tradition.

The stable is ran by the Dwarf Innanor Dunnage (Level 2 Fighter - NG). Innanor gets his fine stock of elf bred horses and halfling ponies from his various sources in the Duchy of Ulek. There is usually 1-4 slightly used and only ridden once stock for sale.

All six market stalls belong to the Gnome Gwek Genorek (Level 4 Fighter / Illusionist - NG). Genorek somehow keeps the stalls filled with vendors. These vendors come and go like gypsy's and will have all manner of items for sale. There is usually one stall selling grocer items and or carnival style food. The stalls open from sunrise to sunset usually and at least one of the vendors acting as a guard at night.

 

A Mysterious Woman With An Invitation!

 

A Mysterious Woman with an Invitation by Dixon Lumlir of the Toy Makers Guild

The Great Gold Family has heard of us. This could be a setup or trap. Then again, they may need true heroes to save them. We charge an extra 15% for that.

I best write another letter to the Viscount of Verbobonc – Dear Sir and great Viscount of Verbobonc your humble servant Dixon Lumlir of Mount Saprisarn Hall of the Lumlir Dwarves is informing you that the Heroes of Hommlet are moving South. We have been invited by the Great Dame Gold of Safeton to her festival. If you need us, we will be there. PS Do not forget to send some men to occupy the Moat House Keep of Hommlet.

A second & third letter sent to Lord Father Haxor Lumlir of Mount Saprisarn. One addressed to Mount Saprisarn Hall of the Lumlir Dwarves and the Other the Hommlet Watchtower.

Father sending a copy of this letter to the other address. Unsure of your current location. I hope the work on the tower and moat house is going well. My friends & I have been invited to Dame Gold’s in Safeton. Reasons at this time are vague. Being this is the Gold Family it should be profitable.

Dixon Lumlir the Dwarf

Chapter 3 / Episode 60 - The Invitation

 

Chapter 3 / Episode 60 – The Invitation

Coldeven 17–18, 576 CY – Hommlet

Description: Freezing

Temperature: 18.9°F to 43°F

Wind: Gentle breeze (SE)(8-12 MPH | 7-10 KN)

Precipitation: None

Clouds: Mostly cloudy

Players: 

Dog the Ranger of the Gnarley (Forest)

Irving the Reluctant (Paladin of St. Cuthbert)

TerryOr the Cleric of St. Cuthbert

Dixon the Dwarven Fighter

Oleg, Half-Elf Magic-User/Cleric of St. Cuthbert

Tiger Wong, Kung-Fu Monk of the Eastern lands

NPCs: 

Spugnior the Theurgist

The wind howled low across the Kron Hills as the companions rode into Hommlet, weary from the blackened halls beneath the Temple. Though the air still bit with winter’s fang, there was warmth in the familiar smoke curling from the chimneys, and the golden light spilling from the windows of the Inn of the Welcome Wench felt like a blessing long overdue.

Ostler Gundigoot welcomed them as only he could—with laughter, ale, and a meal hot enough to thaw bone. The hearth crackled with comfort, the world above no longer pressing on their backs. That night, no blades were drawn. That night, they slept.

Come morning, the companions each sought respite in their own way. Dog wandered the Gnarley’s edge. Dixon honed his edge in silence beneath Rufus’s tower. Irving knelt at the chapel of St. Cuthbert and, with divine focus, summoned a white hare—his new familiar, silent and ever-watchful. TerryOr spent time in prayer and quiet reflection, the weight of the chains he placed still lingering in his spirit. Tiger Wong moved like wind between pine and shadow, his fists echoing in training yards as whispers of eastern disciplines. Oleg trained under Burne’s watchful eye in the arcane tower, refining his spellcraft amid drifting incense and the sharp scent of ozone.

But peace is not a thing granted for long.

That evening, beneath the soft lamplight of the common room, she arrived.

A woman cloaked in velvet and perfume stepped into the tavern, her heels clicking lightly on the worn wood floor. She did not speak at first—only removed her cloak and met the companions with a noble curtsy. TerryOr, ever cautious, murmured a spell. The air shimmered faintly.

"Good sirs," she said, her voice calm, clear, and practiced. "I bear a message from Most Worthy Dame Gold of Safeton." Her words fell like bells on the silence that followed. She handed over a heavy envelope, sealed in wax, inscribed in an elegant, spidery hand:

"To the Saviors of Hommlet"

And with that, she was gone, heading over to the bar for food and drink.

The wax seal broke with a soft crack, revealing a letter penned in flourish:

"To those of brave and Worthy:

May it never be said that the courageous undertake valor for the hope of reward nor the righteous seek purity and thus may aspirations of evil never fall upon thy name...

...We beseech you to kindly honor us with your presence during the Feast of Edoira at Windy Crag in the town of Safeton."

— Dame Gold

They read it twice. Perhaps three times.

Oleg leaned forward, brows furrowed. "The Wild Coast," he muttered. "That’s where the black ships sail. If this Dame Gold knows something… we’d be fools not to go."

Dog looked to the others. "Slavers... Safeton’s not far from their black chain. Maybe this isn’t just a feast. Maybe it’s a signal."

Irving said nothing. But his hare shifted beside him, ears alert.

TerryOr stared into the hearth’s flames. "The chains below were only the beginning," he murmured.

The night ended with quiet certainty. The road south would be taken. And so began Chapter Three—the Wild Coast awaited.

excerpt:

Earlier in the day, Oleg spent several focused hours within the study tower of Burne the Most Worshipful Mage of Hommlet, training under his sharp but patient instruction. Amidst shelves stacked with tomes and bottles humming with arcane charge, Burne guided the half-elf through advanced magical techniques—testing his understanding of dweomer manipulation and helping him refine the use of his wand. Smoke curled from a failed casting, and Burne only grunted.

“Again,” he said, with a flick of his own fingers to clear the air.

Oleg nodded, sweat on his brow. “I won’t fail next time.”

Burne offered a rare smile. “Good. Then you might survive what's to come.”

Life of Dixon Lumlir the Dwarf Son of Lord Haxor Lumlir the Dwarf Born in the Year 480CY

 

Dixon Lumlir the Mountain Dwarf, Son of Haxor Lumlir the Dwarf born in 480CY on Sunrise the 8^th.  He worships Dumathion like most of the Dwarves at the Lumlir Hall of Dwarves on Mount Saprisarn.  Born under the Sign of the Esoteric Star Fungus and with domains of caverns, disease, mold, & poison. In this way Dixon has Photo Phobia and will hide from light always seeking out dark passageways and deep underground places. 

Neutral good in alignment & suffering cursed with greed like most Dwarves one would meet. A great thirst for the brew they call beer, and a voracious appetite afflict him as is common among his kind.  His father Lord Haxor Lumlir a respectable Sheriff and minor Lord of the Dwarves.  

Kidnapped and sold into slavery at a young age by Gunnl Kro Dwur Half Drow Cultist Captain of The Children of the Spider Cult and taken to the Kingdom of Zeif while still quite young. Dixon can with practice poorly speak the language of Zeif as he was only there for four years. Shortly after capture the Cult branded Dixon on the back of his right shoulder with their Spider Brand. This brand is encircled with symbols of the Five Elements to demonstrate the magic power of the Cult and their Goddess.  This is how they mark their property in the Cult.

Four years later he is sold to the Retiarius Gladiator School and is given a small brand on the right cheek just below his right eye of a Murmilo Gladiator Helmet with Three Skulls under it.  He was then taken to the school located in the Great Kingdom. Fortunately, six years later and just before his second match.

Dixon was sold to the Famous Noble Family of Talmudius Marullus. In the Talmudius Marullus Family their tradition is to always gives a slave a chance to win their freedom in a series of games of chance. It was in this manner their Great Great Grandfather Kaeso Talmudius Marullus won his freedom and joined the army. He rose from simple soldier to General of Generals.

 Dixon Lumlir won his freedom and quickly boarded a ship headed in the direction of Safeton & Narwell. There he was able to find his way home to the Duchy of Ulek and the Toy Maker Guild of Mount Saprisarn.  Not before killing a slaver from across the seas in a duel in Safeton in the year CY522. This duel may still be remembered in Safeton & Narwell.

For years now Dixon the Dwarf, Son of Lord Haxor Lumlir the Dwarf has worked as a Guard & Merchant for the Toymaker’s Guild of Mount Saprisarn at the Hall of Lumlir. Infamous for their ability to smuggle the finest Dwarven Made Weapons anywhere they please. Prices are of course open to negotiation. It was in the year 574CY that the Abby and Tower Folk of the Village of Hommlet took delivery of many loads of the finest dwarf made weapons.  

After missing many payments. Several groups of dwarves went out to investigate the possibility of recuperation of loss. During this was when Dixon the Dwarf meet the group now called The Heroes of Hommlet.  After joining The Heroes of Hommlet (As they are now called by the people in the area of Hommlet).  Dixon was involved in a series of adventures. 

These adventures led to him getting revenge and payment upon his enemies. The Tower & Abbey People paid with their lives. In addition, the Tower and Moat House are being restored to once again protect the land.  The books now marked paid and closed. Dixon’s Father Haxor the Dwarf gifted him the Family’s Heirloom Dwarven Hammer. Dixon now seeks purpose to continue adventuring.  Hints of a large slaver plot brings his blood to a boil. Could these slavers have something to do with the Children of the Spider his old nemesis. 

Chapter 2 / Episode 59 - Chaining of the Temple

Coldeven 16 - 17, 576 CY — Noon 

Players: 

Dog the Ranger of the Gnarley (Forest)

Irving the Reluctant (Paladin of St. Cuthbert)

TerryOr the Cleric of St. Cuthbert

Dixon the Dwarven Fighter

Slash the Bard

Muspell Heavyhand, Deep Gnome Illusionist

Tiger Wong, Kung-Fu Monk of the Eastern lands

NPCs: 

Spugnior the Theurgist

Lita of the Fjord (Slash's Groupie and companion / Level 2 Bard)

The lightless passage up to the surface broke as Prince Thrommel crossed the temple threshold. Color returned to his cheeks. With a whistle, his great white steed galloped from the trees. “I return to Furyondy,” he said, mounting. “And I shall not forget this.” He vanished into the mist.

The company descended once more. Inside the shattered vestry, Muspell clambered up the rafters to retrieve a pristine robe, red and blue, its thread woven with malignant intent.

Deeper still, they reached the grand staircase and its throne of judgment. Above loomed an invisible wall of power. Not even TerryOr’s ring could pierce it. They bound the final great doors with the divine chain—silver glyphs glowing faintly. Three down. One to go.

After a night of rest in the bandit tower, they plotted how to confront the last threat—four towering earth elementals standing guard. They spoke of desecrating the brazier, dragging it down with ropes, earning divine favor with bold irreverence.

They returned below, careful in their steps, avoiding the screeching stirges and dark pools.

In Room 134, they made short work of four guards—until reinforcements from Room 135 burst forth. Spells flew. TerryOr's Hold Person locked three in place. The others fell to sword and spell. Irving, eyes burning with zeal, made the captives kneel and touch his holy mace. “Swear to St. Cuthbert or be unmade.” They swore. The old cloaks were torn, trampled, burned.

Room by room, the party pushed on—collecting potions, scrolls, magical armor, and a nugget of pure gold.

Then, Room 145. The heart of the elemental menace.

TerryOr, cloaked in Sanctuary and Protection from Evil, stepped alone into the massive chamber. Earth trembled. The elementals stirred—but did not strike. Like sentinels bound by divine law, they watched him approach the runed doors. With trembling hands, he affixed the last chain, sealing the way forever.

A shudder passed through the temple. The fetid wind stilled. The demon’s prison was now locked.

Exhausted but triumphant, the group gathered in silence. Their work was done. The Temple was chained. But the darkness they had disturbed was not gone. Only waiting.

The next chapter looms.