For Honor and Glory
Demon blooded Tiefling Binder
BAB 1 CMB 4 CMD 15
Knowledge Religion 4
Knowledge Planes 4
Arimareius never knew his parents. He was left in the care of a temple of Torm. Growing up the clergy treated him no differently than the other children and squires. Arimareius hoped to one day be a great paladin, fearlessly combating dark forces through out the Realms. However things began to change as he grew older.
First Arimareius began to change mentally. He became more vicious, more prone to angry outbursts. He would often lose patience with others and chastise them mercilessly. The clergy were concerned and disciplined the boy, but decided that the boy was hot blooded and battle hungry. Then came the real changes which revealed a dark past.
Arimareius grew two rows of sharp spines that run parallel to his backbone. Hair that was once a mellow chestnut lost all color becoming as white as sun bleached bones. His teeth lengthened and came to sharp points resembling the teeth of a hyena or wolf. And lastly his skin developed stripes below the collarbone, colored scarlet with an oily black outline.
After this Arimareius was treated differently. The kinder squires simply ignored him but the others balked at training, study, or even eating with him. With time Arimareius grew angry and bitter. He would spend long hours in the library reading about the outer planes and other religions. Searching for a cure for his condition or to discover what fiend he was descended from. Deeper and deeper the young man searched into dusty tomes and grimories.
Until one night, long after the sun had fallen and moonlight beamed through the windows, Arimareius found an ancient tome. Covered in in strange sigils and bound in skin that felt slightly warm to the touch, was a book on creatures long forgotten. Some banished by gods, others near to gods, and some that simply existed. They longed to live again if they would find a soul to bear them and in exchange, would lend some of their strength to those with the courage to enter such a partnership.
Arimareius took the book, striding past the slumbering librarian, and quickly left the temple. After finding an inn and acquiring a room, Arimareius set to work on the binding rituals.
Drawing the seals of those “vestiges”, a term the tome used when referred to these beings, onto the floor boards and speaking the proper words left Arimareius speechless. Such creatures as he had ever seen! Beyond angels and demons even! And they readily responded to his call, drawn to a secret longing for companionship hidden deep inside. Arimareius strode out of the room the next morning with a new found sense of purpose and freedom
That was more than two years ago. Since those days Arimareius has left most of the temples teachings behind him. The vestiges he binds to himself long to experience sensation again. And Arimareius is happy to supply. He enjoys the pleasures that life offers sharing it with beings who lavish praise upon him. Wine, women, song, and other diversions are not free though his devilish features usually afford Arimareius a small sample of these wares. So he took to the life of a sell sword offering whatever services the buyer asks for. With his “companions” Arimareius can perform nearly any job that a buyer could desire. Recently Arimareius journeyed to the Dale Lands looking to avoid scorned lovers, and money lenders.
He found conflict and strife in plenty in Daggerdale. The Zhentarim had invaded Daggerdale from the north, overrunning the capital Dagger Falls. The only known heir of the Daggerdale throne, Randal Morn, was fighting the Zhentarim’s larger forces using guerilla tactics through his ‘Freedom Riders’.
Being a lover of wealth and seeking power and position, Arimarius threw his lot in with the Zhentarim as a mercenary.
Needless to say his treatment through them was less than desirable, and during one skirmish with the Freedom Riders they left him to die at the hands of the rebels.
It was then Arimarius met Randal Morn (who happened to be leading this particular group of rebels) and was given quite a surprise. Randal saw what the Zhentarim had purposfully done to him, and despite his men’s obvious dislike of the tiefling, offered him a simple choice: “Join my Freedom Riders and begin your life anew. When I regain my throne, all those who helped me will not only have gained my trust and respect, but may also find Daggerdale a place to call home. Refuse, and I will at least grant you a swift death.”
Arimarius obviously didn’t want to die, and Randal’s honesty both surpised and intrigued him. His choice was a simple one, and as was grudgingly accepted, he realized that he was not the first Rider to be recruited from the ranks of the enemy.
Arimarius knew that Randal Morn was no fool, and that he would be watched and monitored closely to make sure he did not betray the Riders. He worked hard over the next couple of months trying to build their trust, and by late spring, they had come to accept him as one of them.
He was assigned a mission with another group of Riders to intercept a Zhentarim caravan heading south to Tilverton. Intel had been gathered that suggested the Zhentarim were trying to gain influence with the Rogues of Tilverton in order to gain allies and trade partners to the south. With the Rogues on their side, they could work to open up the Tethyamar Trail again and begin trading with merchant caravans heading north.
This would begin to hurt trade in Shadowdale, and give them a chance to strengthen their position within Daggerdale and greatly increase the wealth flowing into the region.
The mission would not be an easy one as the caravan was heavily guarded by soldiers, and included at least one wizard.
Their ambush worked well, and half the Zhentarim guards dropped before they knew what hit them. Arimarius felt a great deal of satisfaction watching his previous allies fall to the blades and arrows of the Freedom Riders, if only because of the way they had treated him.
However, they didn’t count on the skill and power of the two wizards who were also in the caravan. Two spells later and most of the Riders were out of the combat in a magical sleep, or running away after sucumbing to fear.
Arimarius was one of the former, and as he drifted off in a magically induced slumber, he knew his fate was in the hands of the Gods. And he hoped that one of them had taken a liking to him during his short life, and would show mercy in the afterlife.