Carrion Crown ICT
tiefling magus with the holy sword
CG Tiefling Bladebound, Kensai Magus
Follower of Sarenrae
Flame of the Dawnflower
Headstrong: You feel compelled to correct every action and argument that contradicts your worldview. Whenever you witness an action or hear an argument that contradicts your alignment, you must attempt to stop or correct that action or argument. If you either don’t try to stop it or fail in your attempt to stop it (as adjudicated by the GM), you are shaken for 1 hour.
The smell of sulfur and brimstone burned his nose, and choked the air inside the large cellar. The child’s cries cut through the eerie silence, as the Bringers of Dawn breathed their sighs of relief after a well fought battle. His brothers checked the bodies of the cultist, as Davos tried to comfort the child. The head priestess had birthed the child with the express purpose of sacrificing it in some ritual to usher in some sort of evil favor from her Demonic Sire, and that evil taint was that left it’s physical representation in the form of two tiny horns protruding from his forehead, a tail that waved in distress, and a set of crimson, pupil-less eyes.
Despite the sight of the child, they had detected no evil or malice within his heart, and Davos had convinced his brothers not to put the babe to the sword. Sarenrae herself favored redemption, and Davos, the Dervish Dancer of the Dawn, would see this child redeemed, and raised in the light of the Dawnflower. His wife had been stricken barren during the plague rot epidemic several years back, and she would welcome the chance to raise a child, and inside their dwelling in the Temple, the child’s taint could be bathed in the Saving Light of Sarenrae.
Savrin, born into the world due to the union of his mother’s demonic union in some pact to gain power and favor in her service to the forces of evil, saved by Bringers of Dawn and raised in the Temple of Sarenrae was quite the conundrum for the church elders. Trained in the art of the Dervish Dance by his step-father Davos, Savrin wished to follow his footsteps as a Dervish Dancer of the Dawn in the service of the Brotherhood and the Dawnflower herself. As if to counter the misconceptions caused by his looks, Savrin strived to prove himself to be pure, acting with the best of intentions. Sometimes his pursuits to epitomize the teachings of Sarenrae turned astray. Although their was no sense of evil detected within the boy, the taint left by his demonic sire still lingered, and had a way of corrupting even his best of intentions, and it blocked his access to the divine arts granted by the Dawnflower.
In spite of a lack of divine arts, Savrin displayed a knack for the magical arts, and even without formal training, he compensated his lack of diving powers with magical ones; mimicking the Dawn Dancer’s the best he could. Unfortunately some of magical powers he manifested were frowned apon by the Church, and although not necessarily evil in themselves, it added to the stigma that had surrounded him all his life.
Savrin also displayed a thirst for knowledge. Amongst the top of all his classes, whenever he was not training with Davos, he spent in the Temple Library filling his mind with the knowledge of the Temple tomes. He was a constant thorn in the sides of the scholars, arguing historic events or Prophetic interpretation, and often tripping them up in their own areas of expert.
All of this would have made it hard enough for the elders to decide whether to accept him into the Bringer’s of Dawn, but now the child wielded Dawnbringer.
Housed in the vault of the Absalomian Temple of Sarenrae, Dawnbringer has rested for nearly a century, waiting for someone worthy to wield her. Bathed in a sea of myth and prophecy, the relic has been closely guarded, as the grand clerics and church scholars debated whether the weapon was a powerful tool in Sarenrae’s battle against the disciples of evil, whether she was spelled the impending doom of the final battle between good and evil, or whether she was an instrument of evil masquerading as a Sarenranian artifact. Only Dawnbringer knew for sure, and she wasn’t telling. For decades she had slumbered, awaiting a presence to awake her, and then twenty some years ago she felt a pull within her dreams, a pull that slowly but steadily grew until a few days ago, when she awoke.
The song came to him in his slumber and coaxed him awake. Pulling him to his feet and urging him to follow, Savrin stumbled from bed, and still half asleep, he found himself within the Temple Vault, not quite sure how he had gotten there. The door should have been locked and guarded. The song from his dream became clearer now, and an inexplicable urge pulled him toward the ornate chest in the rear of the vault. He threw open the lid and there lay the most beautiful Scimitar that he had ever seen. The hilt displayed the a winged Sarenrae, her arms outstretched, cradling a crimson and gold opalescent blade. He reached for her, and upon contact, she bathed his mind with a serene sense of greatness as she bonded with him telepathically. Whether he knew it or not, he was now her vassal, for whatever purpose she was intended for.
So here stood a Demonic spawn, raised and trained in the service of the church, denied access to divine power, but self taught in the magical arts, wielding a weapon that may either foretell the saving of the world, or be an instrument of it’s destruction. Abadon wiped his brow. His decision could well doom Golarion, or usher in an age of peace and greatness. He mind seemed almost stagnant, his limbs lethargic. He could neither admit this boy into his holy order, nor could he condemn him as an agent of destruction either, so he did the only thing that he could think of.
“It is the decision of this council that on this day you receive both your mission and your name. Savrin the Redeemed, Holy Blade of Sarenrae, Wielder of Dawnbringer, you have been charged with a special mission. Instead of joining your brothers within these halls, you are to be sent out into the world to bring light where this is only darkness, to seek out the agents of evil and to foil their evil plots, and to exemplify the tenets of the Dawnflower wherever you may go, until the day She calls you home.” Abadon expected the severity of this charge to weigh upon Savrin, but instead he saw the sense of pride it gave him, the flicker of hope in those red, pupilless eyes, and a lightness in his step as he turned to leave the temple for his very last time. Abadon sighed with relief, maybe he had gotten it right.
“You have awarded meaningless titles, and cleverly rid us of that burden once and for all,” commented the Elder to his right.
“I know,” sighed Abadon, “but at what cost? May Sarenrae forgive me.”