Tyranny Of Dragons
Human Cleric of Tempus.
Gorstag Thistletop was born into the small coastal mining village of Leilon to a poor family of mine workers. His childhood was filled with fun times adventuring within the shallows of the honeycomb of mineshafts just outside the village with the other children. When not playing at the mine entrances he would be watching the travellers and caravans passing down the High Road heading to and from Neverwinter and Waterdeep and passing through his small un-walled village. Gorstag assumed he was destined to become a miner like his father and his father’s father and would never actually see the amazing sights described by the weary travellers looking for a place to rest for the night.
When Gorstag was twelve his town was unexpectedly hit by a large goblin raid. During the battle between the goblins and the village militia Gorstags father was fending off goblins outside of their small home and was slain while trying to protect his wife and child, more used to pushing a cart of ore than swinging a longsword. Cowering in the crner of his house with his mother Gorstag saw a goblin push through the door and begin to advance on him with a savage gleam in his eye and a cruel smile on his face. When they were cornered a longsword suddenly manifested in the air beside him and clattered to the ground. Without thinking of the consequences Gorstag picked up the blade and heroically thrust it forward slicing deep into the stomach of the goblin in an attempt to save himself and his defenceless mother. The goblin shrieked in pain and thrust out with his spear catching Gorstag in the side. Gorstag stumbled back and collapsed and fell into unconsciousness as he watched the goblin bleed out over the floor of his home and his vision went dark.
Waking up days later he was being tended to by the towns healer and priest. Gorstag recounted his tale about the magic sword to anyone who would listen, the story eventually spreading to the local tavern, down the High Road with the merchant caravans, and eventually reaching Waterdeep and the Temple of Tempus. The priests there knowing well that Tempus had aided the Leilon village in battle and upon hearing the tale knew that he had really aided this child. A month later a purple robed cleric came to see Gorstag and questioned him of the night of the goblin raid and concluded that it was likely that Gorstag had a strong connection with Tempus after his fearless heroics and wanted to see if they would manifest further. The cleric offered Gorstag a better life, away from the mines and down into the temples of Waterdeep. Gorstag was excited at the opportunity to travel and see a real city and eventually his mother relented. Gorstag left the small town by week’s end heading towards Waterdeep and a new life.
Seven years of training within the halls of Tempus had passed. Half honing his skills with a sword, the other half sharpening his mind with spells and religious tomes. He had a strong connection with Tempus, or so the other clerics told him. He was only the second best out of the initiates though, a man named Malark was the most talented and after jostling for the number 1 spot for years a rivalry had formed between them. That was about to end though as the next week they were set to don their brown robes, the robes of a fully fledged acolyte.
The day after the ceremonies he was summoned before the Trusted Swords of the Temple. Someone had slit Malarks throat in his sleep, a most cowardly act, especially within the walls of a temple devoted to a god like Tempus. No one knew the reason why, all that was left was the old rivalry between the pair. Gorstag was being punished for a crime he did not commit. Was he being intentionally framed? He considered challenging them to single combat, to prove he was still in Tempus’ favour and therefore innocent but made no actual move to challenge. What if he was facing the one who slit Malark’s throat? Would he even be able to beat them? Even without the heretical tricks they might throw his way they might be too powerful. Gorstag took a deep breath, Tempus had always protected him in the past so why wouldn’t he now? Gorstag spoke out with his unfounded suspicions and was banished to his quarters before he even got halfway through the accusation.
That night Gorstag awoke to someone entering his bed chamber and before he could react properly he was attacked by a blade from the darkness cutting him deep on the arm. He fumbled for his holy symbol on the night stand and chanted off a prayer to Tempus shrouding himself in a barrier, a temporary sanctuary. At the bright light emanating from Gorstag and his holy symbol the figure fled, bumping into the door and dropping something on the floor before Gorstag could see their identity. Gorstag hastily donned his armour, robes and shield, grabbed his warhammer and headed to the temples exit first picking up the object the assassin had dropped, an ornate spoon with an M engraved into it. On his way out he grabbed a pack of supplies from the room beside the entrance hall left over from a returning cleric and headed out into the night, hoping to get some distance between himself and the temple before his spell wore off.
With the knowledge that his accusation had accidentally hit some form of truth he fled the city just as dawn was breaking over Waterdeep and started heading south, offering his services as a caravan guard heading out onto the road, the first time in seven years. Gorstag was content knowing that Tempus would guide his hand and that one day he will have grown strong enough and will have earned enough glory and favor in battle to have Tempus side with him in the battle to root out the corruption within his home.