Molko Firestorm

[Nachytsm]

Character Biography


Name: Molko Firestorm, of the Firestorm Clan
Age: 47
Gender: Male
Race: Dwarf

Appearance: Molko is a Dwarf of considerable proportions; somewhat taller than average, he is a good four-foot-seven. Weighing in at a hundred and ninety three pounds, he also is exceedingly strong, having most of his strength in his upper body, which results in quite the lot of muscle mass. He is fresh faced, aside from his long, bushy, black-with-a-hint-of-red beard, which covers most of his torso. While he occasionally stuffs it into his shirt or breastplate, more often than not he likes to let it run free. Rather uncharacteristic of many Dwarves, and indeed all of the Firestorm clan, Molko was born with deep, piercing blue eyes, which led many to believe that he was a bastard child.

Molko always wears his Clan wear everywhere he goes; even if he's wearing armor, he often keeps the red clothing on beneath it. While they are rather dull from age, he still has many of the suits so that he can stay clean, naturally. Any time he gets a set of armor, whether he makes it himself or buys it, he makes sure to emblazon the Firestorm Clan emblem on it; a circle with two runes of a lightning bolt striking a roaring fire.


Occupation: Blacksmithing, Mining, Sellsword
Molko's primary services entail metalworking of armor, tools, and weaponry. Often times however, when arriving at a new city, there are more prominent (if not as skilled) Blacksmiths around, so in order to make a living he will sell his services as either a miner or, when he's particularly adventurous, he will utilize his extensive combat training.

Equipment: Having recently undergone an unfortunate transition (read; drugged, robbed, dropped in an unknown land), Molko has found himself lacking many of the necessities of his trade. While he's managed to scrounge together some basic equipment, it's nothing compared to his old suite of tools, armor and weaponry.
(Notice: I'll be updating his equipment as necessary.)
- Iron Armor (Guard Issue)
- Copper Tools;  Axe, Hammer (Self Crafted) - All sheathed on right hip
- Iron Pick (Self Crafted) - Right Hip
- Gold Broadsword - Left Hip
- Copper Bow + Arrows (Self Crafted) - Back
- Wrist Shackles - Enchanted with enhanced striking speed
- Goggles (Self Crafted)
- Dark Goggles (Self Crafted)
- Blue Moon Flail - Nelnethandrachan, Death Crusher - Coiled on Belt
- Rocket Boots (Goblin Crafted)

Strengths:
- Molko is a strong Dwarf, stronger some say than two full grown Human men, able to carry mass quantities of stone, ore, or anything else he might be searching for while deep in the earth- not to mention deliver quite strong blows when it comes down to it, armed or unarmed.
- Molko is also partially immune to magic; while a fireball, magic missile or any other sort of kinetic magical attack will hurt him much as any other creature, due to his unique physiology he is mostly immune to mind magics.
- Molko is very skilled in his particular trades; he is close to unmatched in his ability to craft armor and weapons, and his skills with a blade are hard to match as well, and he can very quickly switch weapons when the situation calls for it.

Weaknesses:
- Molko cannot use magic under any circumstances.
- Molko has little experience outside of what he knows how to do, including but not limited to; Alchemy, Farming, Construction (when not dealing with stone), etc.
- Molko cannot swim. While he is not utterly terrified of water, he will sink like a rock.

Personality: Molko is a kind Dwarf, though over the years his kindness has given way somewhat to a cold, official demeanor. Strangers met in pleasant places, like a bar, will usually have the benefit of being on Molko's good side. Meeting him in the wilderness, underground, or in a church, will lead to him being much more cautious and standoffish. That said, once you have earned his trust and good will he is a pleasant and jovial character. Quick to laugh and willing to forgive, he cares less for glory or money (when he doesn't need it) as much as he does a good fight and good people. It should also be mentioned that he has a rather iconic Dwarvish (read: Scottish) accent.

History/Background: Molko was born in a far away land, across the Great Ocean. He seldom speaks of that place, but what he has said in stories told at taverns tells of great mountains, vast and endless as far as the eye could see, snow covering the ground every which way, and massive wars with the Goblins and other terrors he says little about.

When he was a young lad, he was often given the cold shoulder by his people; the Firestorm Clan prided itself on their heritage. Red clothing, red or black beards, and most importantly, red-brown eyes. When Molko was born, he quickly came into two of those traits, but his eyes were blue, as cold and sharp as the night sky, and that of their most hated enemy, the Silverdepths Clan. Often thought to be a bastard child, his mother tried her best to shelter him- and herself- from the callousness of the rest of their people. He trained under his father as a blacksmith, who treated his sun the same as he did everything that was his; with respect.

When Molko came of age and tried to join the Army, he was not permitted. Three times he tried to join, and two times he was not accepted; the third time he was forcibly removed from the premises. Having no where to turn, he continued his father's trade for several years, but he grew restless. Wishing to experience the world outside the Firestorm Mountain, he took to adventuring, like his brother, Krokolash, before him.

One day he was telling a story in one of the Human towns on the edge of Dwarvish lands. While he had not noticed it then, his unconscious told him that for a long while a man had been staring at him, right into his eyes when he could. He still did not understand the significance of it, but those dim grey eyes haunted him at random times ever since.

After drinking his fill for the night, Molko had gone up to sleep. When he awoke, he was in a strange land, where there was no snow. He had not met a single Dwarf since. The trees were small, even to him, and there was a feeling of great evil that seemed to come from the land itself; that alone was how he knew he was still alive, and that his home still existed somewhere.