Life of Dixon the Dwarf Son of Haxor the Dwarf Born in the Year 480CY

 

Dixon the Dwarf, Son of Haxor the Dwarf born in 480CY on Sunrise the 8^th.  He worships Dumathion like most of the Dwarves of the Kron Hills.  Born under the Sign of the Esoteric Star Fungus and with domains of caverns, disease, mold, & poison. In this way Dixon has Photo Phobia and will hide from light always seeking out dark passageways and deep underground places. 

Neutral good in alignment & suffering cursed with greed like most Dwarves one would meet. A great thirst for the brew they call beer, and a voracious appetite afflict him as is common among his kind.  His father Haxor a self-made hero and minor Lord of the Dwarves.  

Kidnapped and sold into slavery at a young age by Gunnl Kro Dwur Half Drow Cultist Captain of The Children of the Spider Cult and taken to the Kingdom of Zeif while still quite young. Dixon can with practice poorly speak the language of Zeif as he was only there for four years. Shortly after capture the Cult branded Dixon on the back of his right shoulder with their Spider Brand. This brand is encircled with symbols of the Five Elements to demonstrate the magic power of the Cult and their Goddess. This is how they mark their property in the Cult.

Four years later he is sold to the Retiarius Gladiator School and is given a small brand on the right cheek just below his right eye of a Murmilo Gladiator Helmet with Three Skulls under it.  He was then taken to the school located in the Great Kingdom. Fortunately, six years later and just before his second match.

Dixon was sold to the Famous Noble Family of Talmudius Marullus. In the Talmudius Marullus Family their tradition is to always gives a slave a chance to win their freedom in a series of games of chance. It was in this manner their Great Great Grandfather Kaeso Talmudius Marullus won his freedom and joined the army. He rose from simple soldier to General of Generals.

 Dixon won his freedom and quickly boarded a ship headed in the direction of Safeton & Narwell. There he was able to find his way home to the Kron Hills and the Toy Maker Guild. Not before killing a slaver from across the seas in a duel in Safeton in the year CY522. This duel may still be remembered in Safeton & Narwell.

For years now Dixon the Dwarf, Son of Haxor the Dwarf has worked as a Guard & Merchant for the Toymaker’s Guild of the Kron Hills Dwarves. Infamous for their ability to smuggle the finest Dwarven Made Weapons anywhere they please. Prices are of course open to negotiation. It was in the year 574CY that the Abby and Tower Folk of the Village of Hommlet took delivery of many loads of the finest dwarf made weapons.  

After missing many payments. Several groups of dwarves went out to investigate the possibility of recuperation of loss. During this was when Dixon the Dwarf meet the group now called The Hell Gate Binders.  After joining The Hell Gate Binders (As they are now called by the people in the area of Hommlet).  Dixon was involved in a series of adventures. 

These adventures led to him getting revenge and payment upon his enemies. The Tower & Abbey People paid with their lives. In addition, the Tower and Moat House are being restored to once again protect the land.  The books now marked paid and closed. Dixon’s Father Haxor the Dwarf gifted him the Family’s Heirloom Dwarven Hammer. Dixon now seeks purpose to continue adventuring.  Hints of a large slaver plot brings his blood to a boil. Could these slavers have something to do with the Children of the Spider his old nemesis. 

Chapter 2 / Episode 59 - Chaining of the Temple

Coldeven 16 - 17, 576 CY — Noon 

Players: 

Dog the Ranger of the Gnarley (Forest)

Irving the Reluctant (Paladin of St. Cuthbert)

TerryOr the Cleric of St. Cuthbert

Dixon the Dwarven Fighter

Slash the Bard

Muspell Heavyhand, Deep Gnome Illusionist

NPCs: 

Spugnior the Theurgist

Lita of the Fjord (Slash's Groupie and companion / Level 2 Bard)

The lightless passage up to the surface broke as Prince Thrommel crossed the temple threshold. Color returned to his cheeks. With a whistle, his great white steed galloped from the trees. “I return to Furyondy,” he said, mounting. “And I shall not forget this.” He vanished into the mist.

The company descended once more. Inside the shattered vestry, Muspell clambered up the rafters to retrieve a pristine robe, red and blue, its thread woven with malignant intent.

Deeper still, they reached the grand staircase and its throne of judgment. Above loomed an invisible wall of power. Not even TerryOr’s ring could pierce it. They bound the final great doors with the divine chain—silver glyphs glowing faintly. Three down. One to go.

After a night of rest in the bandit tower, they plotted how to confront the last threat—four towering earth elementals standing guard. They spoke of desecrating the brazier, dragging it down with ropes, earning divine favor with bold irreverence.

They returned below, careful in their steps, avoiding the screeching stirges and dark pools.

In Room 134, they made short work of four guards—until reinforcements from Room 135 burst forth. Spells flew. TerryOr's Hold Person locked three in place. The others fell to sword and spell. Irving, eyes burning with zeal, made the captives kneel and touch his holy mace. “Swear to St. Cuthbert or be unmade.” They swore. The old cloaks were torn, trampled, burned.

Room by room, the party pushed on—collecting potions, scrolls, magical armor, and a nugget of pure gold.

Then, Room 145. The heart of the elemental menace.

TerryOr, cloaked in Sanctuary and Protection from Evil, stepped alone into the massive chamber. Earth trembled. The elementals stirred—but did not strike. Like sentinels bound by divine law, they watched him approach the runed doors. With trembling hands, he affixed the last chain, sealing the way forever.

A shudder passed through the temple. The fetid wind stilled. The demon’s prison was now locked.

Exhausted but triumphant, the group gathered in silence. Their work was done. The Temple was chained. But the darkness they had disturbed was not gone. Only waiting.

The next chapter looms.