Voltamar of Marthammor Duin.
Male Dwarf Cleric
Strength 9 (-1)
Dexterity 9 (-1)
Constitution 16 (1)
Wisdom 16 (+3)
Charisma 9 (-1)
Height: 3’ 11"
Weight: 160 lb
Eyes: Dark Brown
Hair: Black Wavy; Thick Beard
Domains: Earth Protection
Energy: Positive [Healing / Turns Undead]
Total Hit Points: 28
Speed: 20 feet
Armor Class: 16 = 10 +5 [chainmail] +2 [heavy wooden] -1 [dexterity]
Touch AC: 9 Flat-footed: 16
Initiative modifier: -1 = -1 [dexterity]
Fortitude save: +6 = 3 [base] +3 [constitution]
Reflex save: +0 = 1 [base] -1 [dexterity]
Will save: +6 = 3 [base] +3 [wisdom]
Attack (handheld): +1 = 2 [base] -1 [strength]
Attack (unarmed): +1 = 2 [base] -1 [strength]
Attack (missile): +1 = 2 [base] -1 [dexterity]
Grapple check: +1 = 2 [base] -1 [strength]
Light load: Medium load: Heavy load: Lift over head: Lift off ground: Push or drag:
30 lb. or less 31-60 lb. 61-90 lb. 90 lb. 180 lb. 450 lb.
Languages: Common Dwarven Undercommon
Heavy Mace [1d8, crit x2, 8 lb., one-handed, bludgeoning]
Sling [1d4, crit x2, range inc. 50 ft., 0 lb, bludgeoning]
Chain mail [medium; 2 AC; check penalty -1; hardness 5; hp 15; 10 lb.]
Appraise Int 1 = +1
Balance Dex* -7 = -1 -6
Bluff Cha -1 = -1
Climb Str* -7 = -1 -6
Concentration Con 9 = +3 +6
Craft_1 Int 1 = +1
Diplomacy Cha -1 = -1
Disguise Cha -1 = -1
Escape Artist Dex* -7 = -1 -6
Forgery Int 1 = +1
Gather Information Cha -1 = -1
Heal Wis 9 = +3 +6
Hide Dex* -7 = -1 -6
Intimidate Cha -1 = -1
Jump Str* -7 = -1 -6 [speed 20]
Knowledge (arcana) Int 4 = +1 +3
Knowledge (history) Int 4 = +1 +3
Listen Wis 3 = +3
Move Silently Dex* -7 = -1 -6
Perform_1 Cha -1 = -1
Ride Dex -1 = -1
Search Int 1 = +1
Sense Motive Wis 3 = +3
Spot Wis 3 = +3
Survival Wis 3 = +3
Swim Str** -13 = -1 -6 -6
Use Rope Dex -1 = -1
- = check penalty for wearing armor
Zero-level Cleric spells: 4 per day
First-level Cleric spells: 3 (2+1) per day 1) per day 2 on searching stone, intuit depth)
+2 racial bonus on saves vs. poison
+2 racial bonus on saves vs. spells / spell-like abilities
+1 racial bonus to hit orcs and goblinoids
+4 dodge bonus on AC against giants
+4 stability bonus to avoid being tripped/bull rushed standing on solid ground
+2 racial bonus on appraise checks if stone/metal
Spontaneous Casting (heal)
Turn Undead (2x/day)
High wisdom gains bonus spells daily
Domain choices give additional abilities
Class HP rolled Level 1: Cleric 8 Level 2: Cleric 8 Level 3: Cleric 3
58 lb 5 lb 2 lb
2 lb 10 lb
2 lb _____ 79 lb
4/5 Weapons / Armor / Shield (from above) Sling bullets (group of 10) x1 Flasks x1 Flint and steel Rations (1 day) x2 Rope (50’, hempen) x1 Holy symbol (wooden) Spell component pouch
Humble Voltamar of Marthammor Duin
Othen grew up the younger (and more rotund) of two sons of a Dwarven archeologist named Morkas. Morkas had worked most of his life in search of anything that could help the Dwarves rediscover certain ancient techniques of mithril forging that had been lost to them for many centuries. When out on an expedition, he would sometimes be gone for months at a time. This never really bothered Othen, as his own blossoming interest in the voltamar of Marthammor Duin was beginning take him on adventures of his own—much to the displeasure of his mother (“Any dwarf knows too much sun will make your beard fall out!”) and his older brother, Agar (“So the little pig-belly wants to dance around with the elves in the woods?”
Agar was everything that Othen was not. He was tall where Othen was short. He was muscular, broad shouldered and barrel-chested while Othen was hunched and keg-bellied. Agar also did not take well to his father being absent as much as he was. Othen never had much interest in going down deeper and deeper into the bowels of the earth (an attitude that garnered him a fair helping of ridicule throughout his youth), but Agar was deeply hurt that his father would not take him along once he came of age. Though his father did not have the heart to tell him, all of Agar’s physical prowess was offset by his lack of mental faculties, immaturity, and short temper. Morkas knew that the only way his son would be of any use on an archeological expedition was if he was hauling gear and swinging a pickaxe (jobs which are normally given to prisoners or slaves). By excluding him from his research, he had hoped that Agar would forge his own path as a soldier, blacksmith, or any other respectable profession fit for a dwarf of his strengths—and weaknesses.
However, in his frustration and greed, Agar fell in with a less than savory crowd and was soon involved in petty thievery, extortion, and smuggling. After a few months of this derelict behavior, he was approached by someone from the Slaghammers (a local gang of thieves, thugs, and cutthroats) about joining them and getting in on some jobs that would earn him some real money. Feeling like he finally was getting somewhere, he eagerly agreed. Little did he know that the Slaghammers were simply using him to get to his father’s research and a certain amulet that he had discovered at a recent dig site.
All the while, Othen was spending more and more time with the voltamar and learning the ways of Marthammor Duin. He was sure that this was his calling. These were people that understood not only his wanderlust, but were going out and doing great things in the world. He was finding a strength in himself through his discipline and understanding of his deity that he never thought possible—and his brutish brother certainly would not have believed. It was not long before that strength would be tested…
While many dwarves find it difficult to understand why the voltamar spend so much time above ground, they certainly have a deep respect for their order. In fact, they are probably only second to the priests and followers of Moradin. Othen’s rise through the ranks of the voltamar did not go unnoticed by his family and friends. The young, portly outcast had found honor and respect amongst the priests, and word of his good deeds had begun to spread throughout the clan. This only served to further infuriate and alienate the wayward Agar and he became openly hostile towards Othen and his family. When at last the time came that the Slaghammers asked Agar to break into his father’s study to steal the research and the amulet, he was all too happy to do the deed.
One evening as the voltamar were returning from a nearby town where they had established a permanent place of worship and aid for other surface dwarves, they came upon a band of exhausted and wounded human refugees. According to their leader, they had been driven from their small fishing settlement about 3 leagues to the east on the Lentari river. A ragtag group of bandits had descended on them during the early hours of the morning looking to steal supplies and boats to take them downriver. The villagers fought back and managed to kill a few of the bandits and wound their orcish leader. Enraged and no longer satisfied with just the boats, the fearsome orc ordered his men to slay every last one of the fishermen. The refugees had been harried by the bandits throughout most of the day as they fled. The handful of them that were still left no longer had the strength to try to escape and the group had no choice but to try and make their final stand.
At this point, it should be noted that the image the word “priest” normally brings to mind is about as far as you could possibly get from the voltamar. Marthammor Duin is the protector of adventurers, trailblazers, rangers, and anyone else who finds themselves in need of aid. The reality of the situation is that in the wilds, protection all too often involves combat. Life on the road and the unfortunate necessity to be prepared to fight (and do it well) has shaped their order into a group of disciplined fighters as well as devout followers of their deity. The voltamar are trained not only in arms and armor, but in woodland skills such as hunting, tracking, and trapping. It has even been rumored that in days long ago there were those of the order who actually took up the shortbow as a preferred weapon (although none of the current voltamar can actually attest to have seen this in person). Unless they were familiar with the sigil of Marthammor Duin, the casual observer would probably mistake them for adventurers or mercenaries.
Othen was not a strong dwarf. He was not a quick dwarf either. He was, however, a smart dwarf. Understanding that, he developed a fighting style that played to his strengths. He found that by focusing on his defensive techniques, he could tire and frustrate his opponents while protecting his allies from harm—at the same time, freeing them up to go on the offensive (if that is what the situation called for). Othen was also able to take a beating and keep going long after some others of his order would have dropped—and in the event that someone did, in fact, drop, Othen was the first one there, tending their wounds and getting them up on their feet again. He was also able to shrug off the blows of his assailants more effectively than his brothers when he was focused on healing someone. All in all, it was not glamorous, but it was the way that he best contributed to his brothers, and they appreciated Othen greatly.
When the bandits showed up to finish off the fisherfolk, the voltamar were waiting for them. Seeing that the battle was quickly shaping up to be a rout, the outlaws broke and attempted to flee. The orc that was leading them began to cut them down as they fled, cursing them for the cowards that they were. When the voltamar closed in on the orc, he held an amulet high in the air and uttered a single word… That was the last thing that Othen or any of his order remembered.
They awoke the next morning to find the villagers had stayed the night to take care of them. Apparently whatever the orc had done only affected the dwarven brothers and not the human villagers. None of the brothers seemed to be further injured in any way. The corpses of the bandits slain by both the voltamar and the orc captain were still strewn about the ground. To Othen’s horror, he found that one of the bandits that had been killed during the fight was Agar.
He bore his brother’s corpse back to their clan and told his father everything. At first his father had refused to believe that Agar could have taken the amulet—mostly because Morkas knew he would have no idea what it was or that it was of any more value than the other myriad artifacts in his father’s study. However, when Othen told his father that the orc had actually used the amulet on them, he understood that Agar had just been a pawn.
After a few weeks of investigation, Othen was able to get his first solid lead on where the orc may have been heading. His small order of voltamar was loathe to see him set off, but they (probably more than any other dwarf) understood the calling of the unknown roads beyond. Besides, who were they to deny Othen of what he believed to be his first true test set before him by Morthammor Duin?