The Tapestry Chronicles
Class & Level: Cleric 1
Experience Points: 0
Background: Folk Hero
Defining Event: “I stood alone against a terrible monster.”
Personality Trait: “When I set my mind to something, I follow through no matter what gets in my way.”
Ideal: “When I set my mind to something, I follow through no matter what gets in my way.”
Bond: “My tools are symbols of my past life, and I carry them so that I will never forget my roots.”
Flaw: “I’m convinced of the significance of my destiny, and blind to my shortcomings and the risk of failure.”
Weight: 340 lbs
Proficiency Bonus: +2
Armor Class: 16/18 with shield
Hit Point Maximum: 10
Hit Dice: 1d8
Attributes, Saves, and Skills
Strength: 16 ( +3) (Carrying Capacity: 480 lbs; Push, Drag, Lift: 960)
-SAVING THROWS: +3
Dexterity: 10 ( 0 )
-SAVING THROWS: +0
-Sleight of Hand: +0
Constitution: 14 ( +2)
-SAVING THROWS: +2
Intelligence: 8 ( -1)
-SAVING THROWS: -1
Wisdom: 15 ( +2)
-SAVING THROWS: +4
-Animal Handling: +4
Charisma: 12 ( +1)
-SAVING THROWS: +3
Feats & Features
Languages: Common, Giant
Divine Domain (Tempest)
Wrath of the Storm (2/long rest)
Spell Save DC: 12
Spell Attack Bonus: +4
protection from evil and good
holy symbol, reliquary
- mess kit
- 10 torches
- 10 days rations
- 50 ft of hempen rope
50 lbs of flour
20 lbs of salt
10 lbs of iron
2 lbs of copper
20 sq. yd. of canvas
20 sq. yd. of cotton cloth
1 lb of ginger
1 lb of cinnamon
1 lb of pepper
1 lb of cloves
1 lb of silver
hollowed out horn of a behir
Little is known about the goliath called Ten Thunders. Even his real name is a mystery that the stoic giant is not forthcoming about. If rumors are to be believed, he descended from the mountains between Tangol and Naukan lands in a cloud of mist as a behir was attacking a village in Tangol lands and slew the beast. None of the villagers could see into the fog but after the behir issued forth its tenth blast of lightning, a loud thud followed and the fog began to roll back into the mountains, leaving the broken corpse of the behir behind missing a horn. Some villagers claim to have seen a giant humanoid form in the mist as it retreated. Over the next few months, other villages in the region began telling tales of a strange giant that would come to their aid during a desperate hour, always shrouded in a veil of fog as it came and went, always taking a piece of whatever it killed. The rumors spread across the valley of this lone giant and his deeds. Eventually the smallfolk of the region would come to call this mysterious stranger Ten Thunders after the number of strikes he survived at the hands of a mighty behir.
During a Tangol raid on a village with no clan, the horde chief Gerchek Ironjaw, a massive orc, challenged the village’s mightiest warrior to single combat. If that warrior could draw a single drop of blood from the hordechief he would spare their lives. When no such warrior made himself known in the village, the horde prepared to slaughter them when the mist rolled in and stayed the blades of the horde long enough for a lone goliath to emerge from the mist in armor that appeared either ancient or foreign and carrying a hammer large enough to have forged the world itself. With a very deliberate motion, the stranger lifted the hammer and pointed it at the hordechief, answering his challenge with a single gesture.
The horde scoffed at this stranger but the Ironjaw called out to him defiantly, “What is your name stranger so these people know what to put on your tombstone?”.
The goliath did not speak but a single thunder clap boomed across the region.
Ironjaw laughed and replied, “I’m not sure we can spell that. I ask again, what am I to call your corpse”.
After a long silence, the goliath spoke in a voice that echoed like thunder, “I have no name for you to call me, small man.”
Only slightly shaken, the orc shouted back, "Then I will call you Corpse, for it is what you will soon be.
“Does it matter what a man names the storm that will sink his ship into the Sea or break his village upon the Earth? I have no name for you to call me, small man, because no matter the name you choose, the end will be the same. You will be broken on the Earth,” spoke the goliath, not so much as a threat but as a matter of fact.
“Do you know to whom you speak, goliath? I am Gerchek Ironjaw. I broke the charge at Honsou Valley. I shattered the walls of Yalan Deathtalker’s fort and drank from her skull. I am the greatest warrior of the mighty Tangol,” shouted Gerchek defiantly. “You will tell me your name so I might add it to the list of men I have ripped to pieces, but only if you are a worthy enough warrior.”
In his thunderous voice, the goliath replied “I am no man and I have no name. I am the wind that howls of the coming squall, I am the lightning that will break your bones and the thunder that will speak your doom to the world. I am the servant of the Storm and the Storm has come for you today, Gerchek Ironjaw, so pray to your Earth mother to rise up and greet your body when I break it because the Storm has come for you soul and no man can outrun the Storm.”
With no more words to be said, the orc charged forward on his mighty steed with bloody yell but his war cry was cut short as the mighty giant sidestepped is charge and greeted Gerchek’s horse with the head of his hammer, breaking all of its ribs and sending mount and rider tumbling to the Earth. As the orc tried to scramble away from his fallen mount a single swing of that massive hammer crushed his right leg to nothingness. The next swing did the same to the hordechief’s head, ending his life with thunderous doom the goliath had promised.
Wordlessly the giant man turned to face the horde that did not seem to know whether to run or fight but the single clap of thunder that came forth from his hands was enough to set their minds about the former, at least the minds of those that weren’t knocked from their saddles by the thunder clap. Those that were dismounted met a similar end as their chief.
When the slaughter was done, the goliath pried Gerchek Ironjaw’s namesake Ironjaw from his shattered skull and tucked in nonchalantly into his pack, much the way someone might place a rock on top of another rock out of boredom. The villagers rose to their feet to bid farewell to their savior, expecting the mist to come and take him away again but instead the colossus turned and strode into the village, pulled the too small roof off of the smithy and began to work the forge as if he had been there his entire life.
Over the next several months, villagers from around the region came to give thanks to the mysterious man they had come to call Ten Thunders, who seemed perfectly contented to work the forge as he repaired his own armor and made for himself a pick and shield, forging the dead orc’s iron jaw into the shield as its handle. Despite his lengthy stay, the villagers learned little about him but gifted him what little they could as a thank you for his efforts.
As a cart was preparing to leave one morning, filled with supplies to be traded at a nearby city, Ten Thunders approached the driver, presented him with more gold than he had ever seen in his life, and sat on the cart wordlessly. Before the man could protest, Ten Thunders had begun driving away.
Standing just shy of 8 feet in height and just short of 350 lbs, Ten Thunders is a mountain of a man, tall even by goliath standards. His equipment appears either ancient or alien but is well kept up with. His skin is not the rocky grey of most goliath but instead a pale grey, like an overcast sky. He is scarred as if struck by lightning repeatedly and unlike most goliath, does not wear the traditional war paints of his people.
Ten Thunders rarely speaks and when he does, his voice is either only a deep whisper or a booming thunderclap. His actions, although somewhat aloof, always seem deliberate and purposeful and he is the type that sees a thing through to the end once he has committed to it. That being said, one can rarely predict his actions although he seems to be guided by some higher purpose. In combat, he is purposeful but can be overcome by a deep rage if pushed although this state rarely lasts long. He is slow to anger, speaks in very few words when he does speak, and answers questions in the shortest, most literal way. While he does not seem to enjoy or understand jokes, especially subtle ones, he does smile, especially when he sees people taking control of their own fate. He seems to have no use for those who would not take control of their own poor circumstances, save for children.
The only subject that Ten Thunders will discuss at length (for him) is his faith. Ten Thunders maintains that the problems of the Empire are cause by their faith in false powers and that despite whoever they choose to worship, there are only 4 gods: The Sky, The Sea, The Earth, and The Storm. In his foreign/ancient belief, the Sky, Sea, and Earth are creator gods from which all things are born while the Storm is the god of change and the inevitability of change. In this strange faith, the Storm god holds absolute power over the Sea and Sky with only the Earth as the god that resists the Storm’s power, or at least resists it the strongest and is therefore the Storm’s strongest opponent (he does not use the word enemy for he insists that they are not). The Storm’s power of change seems to be both literal and philosophical, given that the Storm, in addition to destruction and fear, brings rain from the Sea to the Earth by way of the Sky so that crops may grow but it is in the nature of the Storm to take as much as it gives. While some have interpreted the Storm as a metaphor for destruction, he insists that it is the Earth that tricks men into thinking the Storm will not come for them but that in the end, no man can escape the Storm’s wrath forever, implying that even time itself is an agent of the Storm.