Bohrs Pyreheart

The following is the story of how the warlock Bohrs Pyreheart came to meet his patron, and how their pact was formed.

Our story begins with a young male tiefling. Bohrs had lived his life in the shadow of adversity wherever he went. Born on the continent of Mek’Or, in the city of Malvern. His father was a hunter and trapper, spending most of his time away from the family. His mother stayed home with her son and processed the pelts from the kills her husband made. Bohrs’ earliest memories of her are of her scraping fat from hides stretched tight across a simple wooden frame outside their home.

As Bohrs grew older he became more aware of the hostility his family faced for being tieflings. Their home had been vandalized on numerous occasions and their livelihood threatened by other villagers. They became the scapegoats for other people’s problems, being blamed for anything from bad weather to poor harvests. Often his father would return home early, having only reset the traps the other hunters had stolen his catches from.

One day, after an especially hard season of hunting, his father didn’t return home at all. The next day his body was discovered in the woods, hanging from a tree. The city guard determined his death was suicide, despite the numerous welts and broken bones that implied assault. No one other than Bohrs and his mother mourned his loss. After the body was buried Bohrs’ mother sought justice for her husband’s murder. She begged the guards to investigate his death. She petitioned the other citizens to believe her theory, but no one listened. No one cared. After only a few days people didn’t even bother being polite, telling her that her husband got what he deserved, that she and her demon-child were abominations, and that they were ruining their city. She dropped her pursuit for justice out of fear, but that didn’t stop the harassment.

The day soon came where Bohrs’ mother was forced to beg for food to keep her son fed. Once, while begging, a passerby threw a rock at her. As she turned to the woman who threw the rock, hatred burned inside of her. She glared at the woman and without thinking raised her hand, pointing toward her, and all at once her assailant was engulfed in flames. Her screams drew several others who rushed to her aid, but Bohrs’ mother just turned away and hurried toward her home. Gathering the few things of value they had she hastily prepared her and her son to flee the city, but news had spread rapidly of her actions. The mob that responded was gaining on them, and Bohrs’ mother knew there was no escape. In her final words, she told her son she loved him, and that no matter what happened next, to just keep running. She kissed his forehead and wiped the hot tears from his face, then she turned to meet the advancing crowd. As she walked defiantly to her doom she spread her arms wide and Bohrs saw darkness emanate from her. The darkness grew until it enveloped the entire throng of people who had gathered. The sounds of violence were what finally broke Bohrs from his paralyzed state of shock, and he ran toward the edge of town.

Continuing southwest Bohrs sought refuge in the mountains of the Wakening Lands. After several days of fearful travel, he discovered a small cave entrance and feeling a pull from a strange power within he delved into the darkness. After a long descent through the tight stone fissures Bohrs came to the heart of the cave and discovered the source of the attraction he had felt pulling at him. In the center of the small cavern stood a cracked pedestal, waste high with a dark crystal embedded in the top. As he approached the stone the cracks began to glow and he heard a voice in his head whisper “Embrace me, my child of hate.” As he touched the top of the pedestal his hand was instantly impaled by shards of crystal and his mind was flooded with a torrent of chaos. Within that chaos he heard the voice again, only louder! “EMBRACE ME MY CHILD OF HATE, AND I WILL GRANT YOU THE STRENGTH YOU NEED TO REAP YOUR VENGEANCE!” With a new-found vigor, Bohrs clenched the crystal fragments, which were now burning, blistering his flesh. Using his mental fortitude, he pushed through the turmoil in his mind. As he struggled to overcome the anguishing trial he screamed in agony, blood and tears poured from his eyes, his body soaked in sweat. His physical body began to spasm, his screams interrupted by gasps and intermittent retching. Just as his willpower was about to fade the chaos began to relent.

Finally aware of reality again, Bohrs worked to regain his vision which was obscured by fading, dark, sparkled blind spots. As his breath recovered he became aware of the intense pain in his bloodied, burnt and broken hand. He then raised his eyes to see the ghostly image of a woman floating above the crystal cluster. Weak and somewhat delirious he gazed up at the ethereal woman before him. Her flesh was green, her hair, raven black, flowed around the bases of her long antelope-like horns. Her eyes, bright green and luminescent in the dark sockets of her face, met his.

“Do you know who I am my child?” She asked. “I am Epiphera. I was once a demigod in this world. I was a servant to all who sought my blessings, and was once a force for love. That is, until I was deceived by a mortal male. His name was Luciel Fieldstar. He took advantage of my love and used it to gain my trust. Luciel appeared to be plagued by a sickness that would not subside. I felt so strongly for this mortal that in the moment before his life would have faded from this world I poured into him a portion of my power in an attempt to save his pathetic life. What I did not know was that this WORM had betrayed me! He revealed his crystal of power and I was unable to relinquish the flow of energy. No matter how I resisted I was being drained entirely into his prison. In my final moments of physical existence, I was corrupted, or rather, EMPOWERED by hate! I channeled the last of my fleeting power into the earth. I bored through the layers of stone and poured fire and blight into the hole until the mantle met me with a heat of its own. I can only assume the mortal was incinerated by the same eruption that created this very mountain, but I was still imprisoned here, waiting for a suitable soul to find me. You have overcome my first challenge to you, meaning you must know pain intimately. Know that I will never judge you as the mortals of this world have. Your hatred endears you to me. If you will embrace me as your master, I will lend my strength to you. I will feed your ambition and I will bolster your rage with my own! You need only swear your life to me.”

With the last bit of strength he could muster Bohrs rose, and the base of the crystal shards crumbled freeing his burnt, mangled hand. He raised his hand and drew it to his chest, managing not to wince at the pain. Maintaining eye contact with Epiphera he said, “Dwell within my heart, for as long as it beats I shall know no other master but you.” The ghostly woman then began to glow brighter, becoming a blinding light vanquishing every shadow in the cavern. Bohrs hunched forward and shielded his eyes from her light and felt a searing pain, in his hand and in his chest, as the spirit drew herself into the crystal shards. The momentum of her energy pulled the burning shards into his heart.

When Bohrs awoke, his eyes opened to the light of day. Sitting up he saw he was no longer in the cavern, but now sat in the center of an enormous crater. Inspecting his hand he found the wounds had healed, leaving behind silvery scars. Similar scars would later be discovered on his chest but for now his recovery was interrupted by the sound of a search party chanting “Death to the demon-spawn!”. Bohrs scrambled to his feet, still not at his full strength. As he clambered his way to the rim of the crater he heard the shouts of the advancing mob getting closer and he felt a burning in his chest as a voice in his head said, “Time to test my powers for yourself, my child.”


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