Half-Orc Spirit Shaman & Hunter for the Gatekeepers
CON 16, DEX 10, STR 12, CHA 6, INT 14, WIS 17
FORT 8, REF 2, WILL 8
Dark Vision 60’
Common, Orc, Draconic, Goblin, Abyssal
Spirit Guide, Wild Empathy, Chastise Spirits, Blessing of the Spirits, Follow the Guide, Ghost Warrior, Warding of the Spirits,
Lost Tradition (CHA—>WIS), Spontaneous Healer, Spontaneous Casting
Cure Light Wounds, Know Direction, Create Water, Obscuring Mists, Produce Flame, Flaming Sphere, Resist Energy, Pass Without Trace, Call Lightning
Items of Note:
+1 Bone Armor
Holy Symbol of Transfiguration (shaped like an intertwined snake worn as a necklace)
Rod of Viscid Globs
Bag of Endless Caltrops
Revelation Crystal, Least
Rides a light warhorse and has a mule tethered to the horse that carries his bulky equipment.
Mog Shin’Graal is the only child of two Half-Orcs, Merrick and Fini Shin’Graal. His parents are both still alive and living in a small community north of Vanguard Keep. His father, a Ranger, was forced into early retirement from his duties as a hunter for The Gatekeepers due to a leg injury he sustained rooting out a Thranian vampire. His mother, true to druidic culture and form, still works to balance the local communities and nature as much as possible, teaching an healing as needed.
His father taught Mog everything he knew about being self sufficient and surviving in the wilderness and while not as physically strong or as fast as his father, Mog made up for that in problem solving and an aptitude toward learning and the healing arts.
From an early age Mog found he could commune with the spirits of small woodland creatures and the like. It was rare for someone to have a natural gift for communicating with those that have passed on, so it was decided that Mog should be apprenticed to one of the area’s spirit shaman. Since Mog’s village was lacking a practicing Spirit Shaman, he was apprenticed to one from a neighboring village who had already trained her successor and despite some initial internal hesitation, allowed Mog to learn from her.
Mog never did learn her name as she rarely spoke, but he learned a great deal from her. She taught Mog how to commune with higher level spirits, be guided by them, to respect them and respect the balance between the living and the dead, and in some cases to fear them. His mentor was a good person and teacher, but she was a bit touched and was quite fond of inanimate objects like rocks and such. She talked to them, sometimes at great length, as if they were real. Though he never saw any spirits in the rocks, nor did they radiate magic, he was at a loss to explain how the rocks got into various places such as on his pillow, inside of locked cabinets, on top of something out of his or his mentor’s reach, etc. Mog simply accepted that there are just some things that cannot be explained unless they want to be. He found himself treating them gently as if they were real and even grew quite fond of a few of them.
One night during a communion with the spirit world, a malevolent spirit manifested itself unexpectedly. Before they could banish it, the evil spirit attacked Mog. He could feel his lifeforce being drained away by the chilled touch from beyond the grave and he was powerless to react having been paralyzed with fear. Before blacking out, he saw his master turn into what he can best describe as brilliant pure light energy. As the light grew brighter, he was forced to close his eyes and his fading memory was of an otherworldly scream. He never learned if it was his master’s cry of anguish or the voiced of the damned with which she did battle, but he will never forget the sound. If was as if pure agony from the abyss had filled the room and clogged all of his senses.
Mog awoke 2 weeks later as a local druid was attending his wounds. He was surprised to be alive and could barely move. He learned later that his master had given her life in his defense and he had still nearly died himself. His body had been wracked by the life drain beyond the point that it could be fully repaired and he would be forever disfigured. His skin had changed to a yellowed green color and a thin jet-black spider-web tatoo looking scar ran up the length of the right side of his body and face.
The rocks didn’t move around after her death. It was as if they died with her, or if there were spirits in the rocks, they went away too. Nobody ever blamed Mog for her death but the experience still torments him to this day. If only he had been stronger or a better student…
After a long period of contemplation, he decided that life as a village shaman was not for him and donned the blood red of his father and took up duties as a Hunter for The Gatekeepers. He took what books his master had and left to continue his training to become a Master of Radiance, seeking out and eradicating evil outsiders wherever he could find them. He adventured as part of a hunting group for a couple of years before they were to be sent away to Xendrik on an expedition. Kri’taak, an Initiate and leader of his hunting group, offered Mog a recommendation to become an aspirant for the Gatekeepers. Mog felt that he was not ready for the life of an aspirant and needed some time to consider the offer. Kri’taak understood the torment raging inside Mog, so to prepare him, Kri’taak released him from the hunt before he could be shipped off to Xendrik. Mog was to make his way in the world and return to the Gatekeepers when he had mended the hole in his soul created by that fateful night. At first Mog was furious, but over time and with guidance from his spirit companion, he began to understand that he must first defeat his own demons before he could do battle with the demons of Eberron.
Mog wandered the wilderness seeking solace in it’s isolation as he contemplated what to do next. A chance encounter, of which he only has a vague memory of following something… led Mog to be awoken by a wandering group of adventurers, all of whom curiously smelled strongly like walking corposes. Their tale was one of triumph over misery and were heading back home after having been cured of a terrible curse that turned them into the living dead. Having followed his spirit guide to this place and having nothing better to do at the time, he joined up with them.
In the next few weeks he learned a great deal about his new companions. They were a provincial lot living in a community of small homesteads who had most recently been beset by organized groups of bandits. There were some holes in their tale, things left out, deliberately or not he couldn’t tell, but one thing was certain, what he observed when they arrived was caused by anything but simple bandits. All of the homesteads had been reclaimed by unnaturally fast plant growth and they newly reclaimed sites were being protected by the Ashbound. All of the villagers had met some unknown fate. The mysterious Archon, a charismatic knight who, in their tale, had suddenly appeared to rally all of the local clans to fight the bandit menace had retreated or moved on along with all of the villagers. Given the fact that all of the villages appear to have been packed up in an orderly fashion instead of overrun by an attacking force, gave Mog a great sense of apprehension.
That apprehension manifested itself in the form of 2 attacking druids, sisters, whom the party identified as former members of the local clans but were now children of the Ashbound. Mog was glad not to have killed them, but doesn’t trust them. From all accounts they were contributing members of the clans, healing and helping the communities co-exist with nature. Mog suspected conversion or infiltration, but they are definitely part of a larger picture as one does not just become Ashbound.