The Nether Scrolls
A proud dragonborn seeking to do good and fight for those who can't.
Kilkax is an impressive specimen standing 6’6" tall, barrel chested, with the trademark frill of his gold dragon heritage extending from his head down his neck. He has piercing blue eyes and a serious demeanor. A direct communicator, he has taken well to his service as a soldier. His men have come to know him by his trademark zeal and enthusiasm for life. There isn’t a challenge or obstacle Kilkax is not ready to face head on. This bravery has earned him respect among both his men and peers with the Flaming Fist. A platinum pendant of Bahamut hangs inconspicuously around his neck. Intensely private, Kilkax shares little with those he has not seen battle with and has little respect for those unwilling to pick up a blade. Orders are to be followed, but not blindly. It is not uncommon for Kilkax to press his superiors if he does not agree with their decisions. This has earned him great respect and admiration in a short order.
The old stories have been passed down from generation to generation. As a young hatchling I was taught from my earliest memory to commit them to memory. My people were formed by the blood of Io, born of his great sacrifice. We were born of the better half – Bahamut. “You must never forget where we came from, Zealous,” my mother, Ezra, would say. I know little of my father, Kabul, but I know that my family, Martivir, was a noble line that was known for it’s sacrifice and heroism. We are peace-makers. My mother would only say that he gave his life in service to Bahamut and she would speak no further of his sacrifice. I have a deep respect for Bahamut, but there is a part of me that seeks vengeance for my father’s death.
As a hatchling I was always the first to raise my hand or volunteer for a task. I followed the Keeper, the steward of our tribes knowledge, constantly pestering him with questions. As it is told, one day he turned to me and in a stern voice said, “Zealous! My child, your time will come, but for now be at peace!” From that day forward, my zeal became my badge and I was affectionately called Zealous by all. Many of my clan, Peaceblade, would still hail me as such, but I have grown past those days. A name is earned in my tribe. And then it is given.
The nightmares began during my third winter. Every five nights is the same; the world is destroyed by cold, choking fumes, lightning storms, waves of acid, and horrible fire. Each time, the dream ends with 10 evil eyes glaring at me in the darkness. I have felt a strange compulsion to seek out a land far to the west. This is a secret, I shared with no one.
On my fourteenth winter at my Harrowing I was told the story of our deliverance from the slavery of the Dragon Overlords when we were thrust into a new world. My tribe held Bahumut had delivered us from the tyranny of our former lands in Abier and it was our duty to do good in this new world. I was given the words by our clan leader, Asok, “Break into this world, do good, fight for those who can’t and never forget the sacrifices of your forefathers.” After being branded in flame I was given the name Kilkax Martivir, which in my tongue means “To Seek Peace”.
Our new land, Tymanther, was very different from our homeland, Abier. My people became renowned dragon hunters. We took out our vengeance for a millennia of suffering caused by their cruelty. The evil Chromatics must be hunted wherever they could be found. It was my people’s duty. My clan had spent two generations in this new world when the Sundering lit up the sky. In a flash, the people my land displaced returned and began to wage war against us.
As the Unther armies besieged my tribe, Asok sent me west with the orders to serve the people of a new land now that ours was lost. “Go to Baldur’s Gate and seek out Ontharr Frume. Enlist in the Flaming Fist and wait. Bahamut will lead you.” My mother gave me a black dragon scale and a small platinum talisman of Bahamut, “The was your father’s…Now be brave, seek peace and honor his name.” It was the only time I saw my mother cry and the last time I saw any of my tribe. I left under cover of night and only looked back once to see the flames climbing high into the air as my clan was burned.
I traveled for many months and through many lands earning my way as a caravan guard, a sailor, and a mercenary for hire. My heritage was not always my ally having to overcome fear, mistrust, and even cruelty. I met all with peace. Upon reaching Baldur’s Gate I immediately enlisted in the Flaming Fist where they eagerly accepted my application. Evidently, Dragonborn were highly sought after along the Sword Coast. I have yet to see another of my kind since my arrival which is stranger still. In short order, I have been promoted to Lieutenant and charged with a unit of cavalry; evidently my zeal remains. I am now known simply as Kilkax. With my family swallowed by the fire their name rests with them. I now wait and grow stronger…