Post by The Iron King on Jan 24, 2015 0:06:34 GMT
The Iron King sits his iron throne,
with iron fist and iron bone.
With iron heart Death cannot find and iron will Gods cannot break,
each iron step sets the world aquake.
with iron fist and iron bone.
With iron heart Death cannot find and iron will Gods cannot break,
each iron step sets the world aquake.
Name: The Iron King (formerly King Alastor the Erudite)
Race: Undying
Age: 1,094
Biography:
The lich now known only as The Iron King was born a man 1,094 years ago as Prince Alastor, though few still live that remember it. He was the heir to the Drakenhoff Dynasty, rightful rulers of the kingdom of Camlann and protectors of the golden city of Haven. He was grandson to King Barbas the Kneeler who submitted Camlann to Empire rule only 200 years before the Long Storm to become its first provincial governor. He was son to King Asmodeus Ironfist, who ruthlessly crushed those lords who rebelled against his father's submission to bring unity once more to Camlann, and Queen Cassandra who was cousin to the Emperor himself.
After reuniting his kingdom, his father King Asmodeus had died due to complications from injuries sustained in his final battle. Thus, Alastor grew under the watchful eye of his mother and Queen Regent until he came of age, a woman of refined breeding and station who ever resented being bound by her royal cousin to this backwater province. She sought to bring culture to the kingdom, with the Empire's greatest architects, scholars, and artists invited to enrich the capital of Camlann and its young king. Trade goods flowed after the expansion of its port into a grand harbor. So it was Alastor came to the throne on his fifteenth name day to an unprecedented age of peace and prosperity for Camlann, a Golden Age for what would be called the Golden City.
Alastor became a scholar king, loved by his people and famed throughout the Empire for his benevolence, wisdom, honor, and diplomacy. Few conflicts were settled by the sword during his long reign, with lords and smallfolks alike happy with full purses and full bellies. Ever studious, Alastor had a massive library constructed in Haven's keep, stocked so full of rare tomes that it rivaled even the Imperial Library itself. Even the Emperor sought his counsel on matters of import and called him friend.
Despite his accomplishments, there was one area where King Alastor lacked: he could not produce an heir. His wife Morgana, a daughter from the king/provincial governor of a nearby kingdom/province that was a close ally and valued trade partner, bore him no son. Fearing his wife barren, surrogates were found to complete the task she could not. Continued failures proved that the problem did not reside in his wife, but in his seed. What little his father had taught him before his death had been ingrained deep: the importance of legacy, unity, and family. He would not leave his dynasty extinct upon his demise. Compulsion became obsession as he scoured his tomes, finding some way to increase his vitality and strengthen his seed. Finally, Queen Morgana took to child, much to the joy of the king and his subjects. Joy turned to ash however as neither mother nor babe survived the birth. On the same day the first battle in the Great War took place, an ill omen.
King Alastor committed the obligatory legion to the Imperial war effort, though found his talents better suited away from the battlefield. Working through his grief he turned to protecting his people as he could not his son or wife. As an economic jewel in the Imperial crown, most troops were kept at home and thoughts turned to defense. Rare alloys were mined from Camlann's mountains to make war golems for the Imperial Army, King Alastor the Erudite's studies into the arcane put to good use. Haven was turned into an impregnable city, ballistae enchanted to gift them with deadly intent. Even the grand curtain wall itself (which extended in a large ring around the city, even into the sea to encircle the harbour) was inhabited by spirits, so many that it is said they whispered in the still of night.
But it was not enough. The elves rampaged and even Camlann eventually saw their wrath. They landed in droves upon the shores, vassal after vassal falling to the ancients foe. Despite pleadings for aid from his liege lords, the gates of Haven remained barred and its legions behind its walls. King Alastor, obsession turning nearer to madness in his old age, was focused only on the thought that with a little more time he could save his people and city. In his nineties, he was frail and ailing, alone with only his books as the drow steadily marched with destruction in mind towards the capital. He refused to lose all his father and he had built: his capital, his dynasty, his legacy. His wishes for more time were answered, provided notes from a member of the Empire's arcane scholars leading him to an answer. Preparations were made and the odd request for a human-sized golem crafted to the king's exacting specifications. A god would not require flesh, bone, or an heir.
What dark ritual occurred next is known by few. What is known is that when the elves arrived at the curtain wall of Haven, King Alastor was dead and the Iron King awaited them in his place. The sky darkened and ground split as hundreds of drow were struck dead, only to rise again to slay their own kin. As the retreat was sounded, it all seemed worthwhile. His people and city were safe. The victory however was short lived as a calamity even his new power could not contain saw each man woman and child dead: the Long Storm had arrived.
A thousand years passed, the gates of the Golden City now called the Black City, remained closed. Most of of its buildings remain intact thanks to their enchanted architecture. What a millennium of contemplation over failures has done to the remnants of the man can only be imagined. Now the gates have opened and the legions of Haven finally sally forth, an army of the dead set to reclaim Camlann for its rightful king and demand owed tribute. The Iron King will have his due.
The Iron King's Passenger:
Voice: No Aether spirit has a truly unique voice, as it has no conception of language prior to making contact with the mortal plane. Music and imagery are what passes for dialogue in the Aether. Thus, every Undying's passenger draws on their personal memories and latches on to a voice that pleases it, In Alastor's case, the spirit frequently mimics the voice of Cassandra, his long dead but dominating regent of a mother. Alastor is never sure whether those memories were selected because her personality matches the elitist, overbearing nature of the spirit, or because it reminds the Iron King of a time when he was just as powerless as any peasant in his own house.
Personality: The spirit has grown more intelligent over a thousand years, but hasn't really matured per se. It has no real conception of hunger, pain, or most biological needs, partially because the Iron King himself is split from those things. Rather, it views the world in a purely aesthetic sense.
Eons of watching human history from the Aether has inspired an extremely loose interpretation of manners, diplomacy, chivalry, and even war. As it cannot die and all mortals are like whisps of dust, it often feels like a child dictating how a sandcastle need be defended from his brother's toy soldiers. Undead and Aetherians are viewed as toys, and other nations and races are just fluff. It frequently offers advice on table manners, furniture arrangements, tactical positions, and the personal appearances of others. It rarely makes demands though, often chittering gibberish in Alastor's ear.
Appearance:
Stats:
Leadership: 8
Tactics: 1
Charisma: 8
Strength: 3
Intelligence: 10