Drek'Thanos Melkor

This Devil May Care

Description:

Level 4 Swordmage (Defender)
Medium natural humanoid (tiefling)

Initiative +5; Senses Perception 12, Insight 17 HP 46; Bloodied 23

Resistance 7 fire
Healing Surge 11; Surges Per Day 9

AC 22; Fortitude 14, Reflex 17, Will 14 Speed 6; Action Points 1

Alignment Chaotic Neutral; Languages Common, Primordial
Skills Acrobatics+3, Arcana(T)+12, Athletics(T)+9, Bluff+4, Diplomacy +2, History(T)+12, Insight(T) +7, Intimidate +2, Perception+2, Stealth+5, Thievery(T) +8

Feats

Quick Draw – +2 Initiative, Can draw items in the same action they are used.

Intelligent Blademaster - Use Int for Melee Basic Attacks instead of Str

Sneak of Shadows – Training in Thievery, use Sneak Attack 1/Enc

 

Str 14 (+2) Dex 13 (+1) Wis 10 (+0)
Con 13 (+1) Int 20 (+5) Cha 11 (+0)


Possessions

+2 Reckless Broadsword, Hand Crossbow, Leather Armor, 100ft Silk Rope, Grappling Hook, Crowbar, Lantern & Oil, Small Steel Mirror, Chalk, and Flint & Steel

Racial Traits

Bloodhunt (+1 racial bonus to attack vs bloodied), Fire Resistance (5 + ½ level)


Class Features

Swordbond – Call Sword from 10sq away

Aegis of Assault

Swordmage Warding

Basic Attacks

+2 Reckless Broadsword(standard; at-will) Weapon +11 vs AC  1d10 +4

Hand Crossbow +5 vs AC 1d6+1

Power Descriptions

At-Will Exploits

Aegis of Assault Swordmage Feature
At-WillArcane, Teleportation
Minor Action Close Burst 2
Target: One creature in Burst
Effect: You Mark the Target. The Target Remains marked until you use this power against another target. If you mark other creatures using other powers, the target is still marked. A creature can be subject to only one mark at a time. A new mark supersedes a mark that was already in place. If your marked target makes an attack that doesn't include you as a target, it takes a -2 penalty to attack rolls. If that attack hits and the marked target is within 10 squares of you, you can use an immediate reaction to teleport to a square adjacent to the target and make a melee basic attack against it. If no unoccupied space exists adjacent to the target, you can't use this immediate reaction. 

Greenflame Blade Swordmage Attack 1
At-WillArcane, Fire, Weapon
Standard Action Melee weapon
Target: One creature
Attack: +11 vs AC
Hit: 1[W]+Int Fire Dmg and Fire Dmg =Str to all Enemies adjacent to Target

Sword Burst Swordmage Attack 1
At-WillArcane, Force, Implement

Standard Action  Close Burst 1
Target: Each enemy in Burst

Attack:+9 vs Ref

Hit: 1d6 + Int Force Dmg

Flame Cyclone Swordmage Attack 1
EncounterArcane, Fire, Implement

Standard Action Close Blast 3
Target: Each Creature in Blast

Attack: +9 vs Ref

Hit: 1d8+5+2 Fire Damage

Dimensional Warp Swordmage Utility 2
EncounterArcane, Teleportation
Minor Action Close Burst 3
Target: You and 1 Ally or 2 Allies in Burst
Effect: Each Target Teleports into the Other's Space 

Infernal Wrath Tiefling Racial Power
Encounter
Minor Action Personal
Effect: +1 power bonus to attack target enemy that hit you last turn. If you hit and deal damage, add +4 extra damage.

Daily Exploits

Burning Blade Swordmage Attack 1
DailyArcane, Fire, Weapon
Standard Action Melee weapon
Target: One creature
Attack: +11 vs. AC
Hit: 2[W] + Int Fire Dmg

Effect: Until the end of the encounter, your melee attacks deal extra fire damage equal to your Str


Bio:

Drek’thanos is solidly built, weighing in at 190, standing 5’10”. Peculiar to him, he has orange smoldering eyes, differing from the red and black common to the area. His tail is shorter than some, only reaching his calves, but strong and thick, giving him superb balance and agility. He doesn’t grow facial hair, but his jawline is studded with small horns or spikes, and his hair is cropped at his shoulders, jet black. He has short, sharp horns, unlike his father’s longer, thicker horns which he polishes each morning to keep himself looking fearsome. Occasionally, he wears his hair up in a top-knot (like a samurai’s), mostly for formal occasions.

Drek'Thanos hails from the poor side of Fallcrest, where he works with his father, Morloth, at the docks, as well as on minor building projects, mostly untrained jobs such as splitting planks and holding forms. Morloth is a massive creature, impressively tall and broad the way a wall is. His mother, Ry’Lea on the other hand, is fairly petite, very lithe and thin, which Drek inherited. She washed laundry, worked in kitchens, and generally performed matronly duties in other homes, but she is a fierce and protective mother, who instilled Drek’thanos with a will and self-sufficiency to take him out of the slums. If Morloth taught Drek the value of hard work, Ry’Lea taught him the value of working smart.

A few months ago, Drek caught the attention of the River Rats gang, specifically, its leader Kelson. With knowledge of the wares and valuables in the southern Quays, Drek (grudgingly) provides the River Rats with a  road map for getting a “cut” of their own from the shipping business. A little more to Drek’s taste, Kelson has also had him working nights at the Lucky Halfling as a bouncer, rolling the drunkards for their last silvers on the way out. Drek views his somewhat questionable actions as a riposte against the same ignorant ruffians that make life hard for his whole family simply because of their origins. A Tiefling must do what a Tiefling must do. With the silver he has been earning with the River Rats, Drek has been able to finally keep his mother from working, a point he is very proud of.

On the other hand, Drek has not been able to match the success of his sister, Kallista. As a sculptress in one of the town guilds, she forms stairs, pillars, and other such interior features, but her recent discovery by Orest has been quite eventful. Not only has Kallista begun earning more money, but she has been working more on her art. Additionally, Drek’Thanos has found a mentor in the estimable Orest Naerumar. Drek has found a renewed sense of pride and racial honor, and is beginning to shy away from his dealing with Kelson. On the few trips that Drek has shared with Orest, he has learned Tiefling history, some Dungeoneering knowledge, and even manners. The Melkor family members are cousins to House Azaer, and these relationships are beginning to imbue Drek with self-esteem and pride.

Drek’Thanos is finally realizing that while the town of Fallcrest might offer chances for his family to rise out of ignominy, the adventures and risks that Orest has related to him might be his ticket out of the lower quays. When and if the chance arises, Drek will be the first out of town.

 

 Drek walked into Orest's shop, a sense of accomplishment filling him with confidence. His parents had been overwhelmed by the money he had layed on their simple but sturdy table. Enough gold to keep them content and well fed for years to come and only from his first foray into the wilds outside of Fallcrest. This lifestyle was growing quickly on him, and he was thankful yet again that Orest had taken an interest in him. The cagey Tiefling "merchant" was perhaps one of the most cunning and charismatic individuals he had ever met. Some of the errands Drek had run for him in town had seemed a little strange, visiting other purveyors of weird and esoteric goods because those more bizzare errands had always seemed more like interviews than deliveries.

Today was a good day, though, as this was the first time Drek was able to deliver goods to his mentor and friend. Orest looked up from an ancient looking book with clear Tiefling history that he was poring over. Orest's brows were furrowed in concentration as he came back to reality and focused on Drek'Thanos framed in his doorway. The grin that broke across his face was only overshadowed by the expectant look in his eyes. It was Drek's turn to grin, as he bowed and flourished his hands, producing the Arcane Mirror from nowhere. Orest clapped in admiration, exclaiming "Your sleight of hand has almost matched mine, my young friend!" Drek remembered himself in the presence of his mentor as he slipped the tiny non-dimensional pocket closed again, mentally chiding himself for showing off. Orest thanked Drek, a sparkle of excitement showing in his eyes. "I have something to show you," he said, and motioned Drek over to the book he had been examining. Drek followed curiously, expecting the elder Tiefling to share another of his obscure finds, but was blown away when Orest layed the mirror down perpindicular to a stone tablet that made up the back half of the book. The stone itself was covered with incomprehensible symbols and images that seethed with firey power. But the mirror, much as it had for Kalarel, was transforming the symbols into old Bael'Turathian, a text that very few Tieflings could still read, Orest among them. Drek had seen enough ancient Tiefling relics to recognize the style and general meaning, but was still unsure of what this portended.

"Its one of the surviving Pactstones," Orest plainly stated. The impact of the words didn't require inflection. A PACTSTONE! One of the oaths sworn by the Devils that emerged after a month long ritual inscribed in living, flaming magic in basalt, immensely powerful and nigh indestructible, it was literally priceless.

Orest began,

"I found this near the end of my career, in one of the most harrowing descents into the ruins of our former empire I ever took part in. It took me months of research and translating to understand what the book was trying to say, what this stone holds. You know that the pactstones contain living oaths, sworn by some of the most powerful devils of the Nine Hells. Each one gave the old empire another tool to maintain dominion; increase its hold over the globe. Eventually they tore the empire apart, as power struggles and distrust ran rampant. This one, though, was the tool that gave Bael'Turath its elite guard. Trained in the art of combining martial skill with arcane power, the Umbriri Swordmages were the most formidable guard in the massive Tiefling army. This Pactstone allowed Tiefling commamders to train Swordmages in weeks instead of years, opening their minds to the power and skills neccessary to wield magic and steel as one. If you are willing, I would like to instruct you in this lost art. I have been advised of your potential by every mystic and soothsayer in Fallcrest, and the wisest Tieflings I have contact with have given me their blessing. You are the reason I found this text. It is your birthright."

Drek'Thanos was filled with anxiety, torn between the compliment his mentor had just given him and fear of falling into the abyssal darkness that consumed his ancestors. If he accepted this power, would he be any better than those princes that had slaughtered their reluctant relatives for a chance to make pacts with devils? Drek looked into Orest's eyes, seeking an answer, but saw only calculating observation. This too, then, was a test.
Drek shrugged off his fears and concerns. If he shouldered this responsibility, it was his alone and his use of it would determine whether it was for good or evil. He nodded, once, and Orest showed relief. "You've chosen well, my friend. I'll prepare the ritual and required devices. You will learn more and work harder over the next two weeks than you ever have in your life. I hope you're ready."

Drek'Thanos Melkor hoped for the same thing….

 

 Orest intoned the sacred words in an ancient Tiefling tongue. The Pactstone flared, channeling energy through Orest's outstretched palm, hovering inches above the glowing hot tablet. His other arm outstretched towards Drek, clutching the selfsame life-drinking dagger that Drek had used so efficiently in the past months. Each soul trapped within, each life force was now feeding a ritual so ancient as to have been forgotten with the empire that forged it, now reborn in a scion of its lost splendor. Drek's mind and body were flooded with arcane energy, his entire being a portal to the potent and vicious forces that operate outside of mortal understanding. As the ritual continued, Drek's awareness expanded to encompass mysteries that could only be briefly glimpsed, the horizon arched into infinity, and his conciousness was lost to the space of arcane energy that bound and controlled the causality of the universe itself. . .

When Drek woke up, Orest was crouched over him, checking his breathing and heart rate. Once the "shopkeeper" was sure of his protege's health, he stood and turned, remarking, "You did better than I expected. At the end you began babbling, but you stayed concious much longer than I had anticipated. Are you ready to begin?"
Drek could barely choke out a "No," when Orest spun on his heel, dagger extended, searching out Drek's rib cage in a vicious thrust.
The blow never landed.
In less than the blink of an eye, Drek had raised both hands, one deflecting the dagger along the flat of the blade, the other calling on Eldritch power to form a  faint, glowing orange field that intensified in visibility at the dagger's point. Drek was on his feet and startled when Orest strove again for another attack, relentless and untiring. Each one, in succession was blocked and dodged or disposed of impotently in a field of arcane protection controlled by Drek's bond to the mystical. It was second nature now, instinctual, to call upon this power. After ten minutes of unabated and vicious attacks, Orest suddenly stood quite still, breathing hard through his nose.
"Ever beyond my expectations," was his only comment. Drek stood poised to defend himself, unsure of his new relationship with his master. If this was to be the next two weeks, he was unsure that he could withstand it…

From dawn to midnight each and every day, Orest trained him, attacked him, disciplined him, pushed him to his limits. Meditation to develop control, athletic demands to push his endurance, study, study, study. Much of the history of the land was now open to Drek, called upon by the magic and the oath of the pactstone, but his understanding of the powers themselves was still shrouded. The book and stone taught him, Orest guided him, but blades SPOKE to him. Each one he used he found distasteful. A half-ounce too light near the hilt, an imperfection in the cutting edge, a hair of true along the thrust line, nothing escaped his attention. After a fortnight, Orest told him that he was ready.


"The book is yours now, to do with as you please. It will continue to teach you as you grow  in power, each secret bringing you closer to mastery. I will have my eye on you wherever you go. Now I have something for you, something that belongs to you."


Orest pulled a bundle from behind the counter where he had conducted the ritual, and passed it across to Drek. It hummed when it touched his hands, rising in pitch as Drek unwrapped it, to a point of almost unbearable pain. As the blade and handle were revealed, Drek admired the broadswords perfection. Clearly Tiefling in design and forging, it recalled memories of his dagger and former technique. The rising pitch hit a perfect note of resonance when Drek grasped the handle, and suddenly he saw the whole picture. The dagger had BECOME this sword, intended for this purpose and the channel for so much arcane power that it must transform. The broad, flat blade was covered with arcane glyphs that glowed with the same passionate, flaming hue as the Pactstone. The weight and balance were like an extension of Drek's body, a conduit for arcane might.


"The blade will react to your intentions, channel your offense or defense. If you lower your arcane shield but a bit, the blade will bite with an unparalleled sharpness. It will come to you when you call, from a vast distance. And used properly, it will cut through reality itself. I can teach you no more, my young friend. You must follow the Umbriri path on your own."


Drek bowed in deference and said, "You will always be my mentor and friend. I thank you for the gift you have bestowed on me. I will carry the banner of lost Tiefling Glory across the land."
Orest could only nod in appreciation as he watched the warrior step out of his shop.

 

 

Drek'Thanos Melkor

Shadowfell DrekThanos