[Lady Dragonfly]

Bogrut’s Tale
Gender: Male
Race: Half-Orc
Class: Pit Fighter

After a few tankards of hemp ale, old Drumbag Darnblazer, a veteran of two campaigns and a former member of Amnish militia, would usually fill his pipe, recline significantly in his squeaky rocking chair, and clear his throat, which indicated that he was about to indulge in reminiscence. At that moment, Drumbag’s family members who happened to be nearby instinctively ducked for cover, except for young Bogrut who sincerely enjoyed his Dad’s fanciful tales of the allegedly heroic past involving bravery, chivalrous deeds and saving the world.

Inspired by these tales and fueled by his own unfettered imagination, Bogrut fashioned a tin cuirass and a wooden sword for himself and became fully engrossed in staging elaborate battles, using his mother’s small garden as the battleground. The neighbors were shaking their heads watching Bogrut trampling on the vegetable patch, hacking and slashing with abandon at the scarecrow and its weedy minions. The prevailing sentiment was that all those silly war stories and pointless games would eventually addle the poor kid’s brain.

When Bogrut came of age, Drumbag decided it was time to let the boy try his own hand at saving the world. He solemnly bestowed upon the young Half-Orc a slightly dented and scratched breastplate, a small leather pouch full of merrily jingling silver coins, his fatherly blessing and, most importantly, Darnblazer Family Cudgel, The Convincer. Bogrut’s tearful mother added to the pile a healing potion and a basket of homemade doughnuts. Bogrut reverently accepted the gifts, bade farewell to his parents, and left the hometown.

During his rather tiresome and uneventful travels across the countryside, Bogrut heard tales about the knightly Order of The Most Radiant Heart headquartered in distant Athkatla. His spirit soared. The young Half-Orc already envisioned himself in a suit of shining full plate armor, cavorting atop a magnificent white steed in front of some fine-looking Damsels begging him for help.

Immersed in these pleasant dreams, the intrepid adventurer directed his footsteps towards Athkatla. Upon arrival, he hurried to the Temple District where the towering statues of Knights erected along the perimeter of the imposing edifice housing the hallowed Order of The Most Radiant Heart cast their reflection onto the limpid waters of the city canals. There, at the doorstep of the Order, our wannabe knight experienced a bitter disappointment. The Knights of the Order politely but firmly rejected his application, referring to their Codex that denied Paladinhood to all non-humans.

Taking pity on the disheartened Half-Orc, one of the younger Squires imparted to him the hushed rumors about upcoming changes in the Admission Rules.
With his hope rekindled, Bogrut secured a cheap room in one of the Docks District’s seedy taverns, The Vagary of Fortune, and ventured every day into the Order’s Courtyard to inquire whether the Rules changed yet.

Meanwhile, watching his leather pouch getting thinner and lighter with each passing day, Bogrut realized that he had to find a source of income or otherwise risk starvation. He found out that The Vagary of Fortune’s innkeeper, Madame Infusoria, was clandestinely running a highly profitable Gambling Den and a Dueling Pit in her basement. The Pit Manager grudgingly registered Bogrut’s name in a tattered book and showed him the premises resplendent with garish advertisements of various lethal weapons, equally lethal local brews, and a dubious anti-Calimshan Itch ointment.

Many Pit Fighters found money and glory in Infusoria’s moldy cellar. Many more were carried away with their sculls cracked. Bogrut, a worthy son of gallant Drumbag Darnblazer, was a stout fighter intent on upholding his family honor and becoming the celebrated Champion of the Pit. Following the sacred traditions of jousting tournaments, he painted a radiant heart on his shield and renamed his precious heirloom cudgel The Holy Convincer, to the utmost joy of all betting fans.

Shunned by most of the Pit Fighters who envied his strength and perseverance, Bogrut made a very few friends among the duelists. The matters were further aggravated by the Half-Orc’s penchant for exposing any unlawful activity taken place in the Den, which amounted to reporting practically everything that was ever going on in the cellar to appreciative Madame Infusoria who liberally rewarded Bogrut in her bedroom.

Bogrut’s closest Pit associates were burly Anthrax Ironwart, a persistently drunk dwarf who was fighting in the Pit unarmed due to the simple fact that he had pawned his War Hammer to buy booze, and the Dwarf’s long-time sweetheart Borzilla, a dark, brawny, low-browed female wielding a wicked chain whip and sporting numerous explicit tattoos that made Anthrax blush.

Alas, rivalry over a woman can ruin any friendship. Stolid Borzilla unequivocally displayed her preference for the young, handsome Half-Orc over the stone-broke Dwarf. Embittered by Borzilla’s open disdain and prodded by the vengeful Pit Fighters who generously filled him with liquor and lent him a few coins to buy back the War Hammer, Anthrax treacherously assailed his unsuspecting rival in a dark, secluded alley. The ensuing fight was brutal and merciless and might have resulted in Bogrut’s untimely demise, but the loud noise attracted a group of adventurers who happened to trudge through the muddy streets of the Docks District that night…

Well, that will be your party, of course. Depending on your alignment and mood, you can either dispose of the duelists or negotiate a truce. Bogrut will ditch Borzilla and join your party if you hint at your connections to the Order’s big cheese and promise to pull the strings to help him gain admittance. All for the Greater Good.