Black Seas of Infinity
More treant than wilden; wind, storm and forest are his weapons. He hums, walks and breathes the sounds of life and creation - the great Elder, Song of Souls.
Pangu is a forest elemental, a creature of stone, wind, trees and plants. His gnarled hands extend through his weapon – the deadly curved blade of a khopesh and the piercing tip of a spear. The brutal ferocity of his weapons combined with their finesse is a reflection of Pangu himself – pulling foes into his bloody grasp from around the battlefield, then buffeting and cavorting about them like a fierce wind while they can barely move. Escaping from Pangu’s grasp once he has them is nearly impossible – not without bitter, deep wounds and more likely, death. Only those who care for the natural order of things, for a return to a respect for wilderness and primal power, community and connection, can hope to survive. The innocent will be protected from the ravenous psychic wrath that threatens all shards throughout the Wyrd. Starting here and now, as the flood emerges.
His two paragon paths – Iron Guardian and Wind Warrior (Glorious Myrmidon), further embody the wind and the roots. As Iron guardian, he shrugs off damage as if it were nothing – and in fact, it often is. He is the untouchable protector, drawing the very metal of the earth through his roots, into his skin, until nothing can touch him. As Myrmidon, he is the wind, weightless in his wyrmscales, moving easily over, under, around his enemies, shoving them about the battlefield with ease until they fall.
As he ascends to godhood, he further seizes the spirit of the wind with the Epic path Prison of the Winds. For this campaign, I imagine it a bit differently – Pangu is the prison of the winds, embodying the wind in the branches, the storm in the forest. He is everywhere and nowhere.
Race: Where is the We?
Class: Defender of Song of Souls
Paragon: Invincible as Iron, Agile as the Wind
Epic: Chaos will not Pass
Background: From Ruin, Survive and Provide
Alignment: Humans Deserve Joy
Personality Trait: I Hear the Song of Souls
Relationship: Addicted to the Song (Song of Souls)
Overall Theme: Live For, With, and In the Music
Other: Destroyer of the Soul Eaters (Soulless Ones)
Other: There Is Music in the Wyrd!Other: I am the Eye of the Hurricane
1. How old are you?
- I was in the late spring when Avala came to the World. I didn’t understand the growth of my people then – none of us did. We came from wilden in later seasons, sprouted from them. Goram the Goliath may have been one of the first to meet her. And one of the first to lose himself. When he enslaved the Wilden, I fought him and he crushed me with a club. I thought that I was dead – there was darkness. Then I heard the Song of Souls, sensed all things, all life in the song. Goram used to whistle it as he worked. I felt myself waking, not sprouting this time, but becoming, emerging from the ground and the bushes and trees. Avala was there. I was almost midsummer. And, I could hear the Song. I wept and Avala wept with me. She could hear it too, had always heard it – and she knew that song. Knew why beneath the happiness, it also mourned. I knew I would live and die in that song.
- A tiny tribe near the Goliaths. We were the only wilden in the World. We worked and played and lived with the Goliaths.
- I was young, and when not helping around the village, followed Goram around to hear his song and help him work. I was always strong. I became a hunter for the wilden and goliaths, traveling through mountains, over waters. I traded some with other villages, and loved to see the different Humans.
- I had friends, family, the Goliaths, the people for which I hunted. I liked them all. Goram’s song was important. We grew fond of each other as we worked together. When he changed, I wept. When I fought him, for my wilden brothers and sisters, I wept. And then he killed me. And I heard Song of Souls for the first time. I would like to save all Humans from Goram’s slavery. I want Humans to be happy again. I want to live the Song.
- I want to bring the joy back into the world. I want to find the lost Elders that Song of Souls whispers beneath its joy. I want to throw back the creatures that have brought this terror to our minds, stop them on this and every other World. I want to see all Humans rejoined in joyful reunion – a renewal of the peace that once was. I want that joy to extend to the young primal spirits that have come from Song of Souls. I want to be encompassed in the song.
- I am one or many of the Elders, reborn after I was crushed by Goram. Perhaps the World Tree, cradling all of creation. Perhaps the Four Winds, rushing through all Worlds and the Wyrd, hearing and seeing all things. Perhaps I am Life Root, a Warden of the elements, the Song, of all creation – standing on the edge of chaos to hold back its force. If I am one, many or more of these things, I do not know it. I am addicted to Song of Souls. I fear this, but will not admit it. The Song is the WE. I do not know this. There is Song of the Wyrd
- What happened to the Elders and can they be reborn? Can the Worlds be connected again, so all Humans can live in peace and joy? Can the Song be only joy, or do evil beings with souls also have the song?
- That I will be overrun by my enemies and unable to stop them all. That there is no way to reverse the destruction – that joy is lost from the Worlds and Song of Souls will fade with the rest. That evil things have souls. That something will happen so that I cannot hear the Song.
- Song of Souls. Avaalokiteshvara – she was the first that knew the song with me. (Goram heard it, but didn’t know it.)
- Song of Souls is an addiction. I can sit, lost, for hours, just listening, feeling. My leaves flutter even on windless days to this song. I want to heal its mourning. The song fights in me, gives me strength. The Soulless do not have the song within them. Perhaps they seek to eat souls to steal that song, or destroy it. That will never happen while I live. And while I protect the Souled Ones, if they threaten the song, or fight for the Soulless, then they must die as well. I love the silent moments in the morning, or in the watches of the night, so I can just listen, breathe, be the song. I love its voice most in the wind and trees, that is the melody to me. The accompaniment is the rest – from the Humans, the stones, the earth.
Pangu, level 11
- Wilden, Fighter|Battlemind, Warden (Lifespirit), Glorious Myrmidon (Wind Rider), Iron Guardian
Hybrid Talent: Combat Specialty Combat Specialty: Combat Superiority (Hybrid) Hardy Form: Hardy Form Will Background: Wilden – Born of Ruin, Wilden – Hunted, Wilden – Estranged Fey, Athlete, Occupation – Hunter, Sage (Stealth class skill)
FINAL ABILITY SCORES Str 20, Con 18, Dex 15, Int 8, Wis 15, Cha 10
STARTING ABILITY SCORES Str 16, Con 14, Dex 15, Int 8, Wis 13, Cha 10
AC: 27 Fort: 26 Reflex: 22 Will: 22
HP: 88 Surges: 13 Surge Value: 22
TRAINED SKILLS Heal +11, Perception +11, Nature +13, Insight +11, Stealth +13, Acrobatics +11, Endurance +12, Bluff +10, Athletics +13
UNTRAINED SKILLS Arcana +4, Diplomacy +5, Dungeoneering +6, History +4, Intimidate +5, Religion +4, Streetwise +5, Thievery +6FEATS
- Feat Level 0 (human): Deadly Draw
- Feat Level 0 (multi): Berserker’s Fury
- Level 1: Hybrid Talent
- Level 2: Bloodied Spear
- Level 3: Pursuing Step
- Level 4: Cleanse the Madness
- Level 5: Quick Draw
- Level 6: Swift Spear
- Level 7: Combat Reflexes
- Level 8: Polearm Momentum
- Level 9: Shield Push
- Level 10: Skill Power
- Level 11: Shield Specialization
- Hybrid at-will 1: Bull’s Strength
- Hybrid at-will 1: Footwork Lure
- Hybrid at-will 1 (human): Weapon Master’s Strike
- Psionic Defense (Hybrid): Blurred Step
- Hybrid daily 1: Form of the Fearsome Ram
- Hybrid utility 2: Pass Forward
- Hybrid at-will 3: Visions of Terror
- Hybrid encounter 3: Immediate Vengeance
- Hybrid daily 5: Nightmare Vortex
- Hybrid utility 6: Psionic Ambush
- Hybrid at-will/encounter 7: Come and Get It
- Hybrid Daily 9: Form of the Stone Sentinel
- Hybrid utility 10: Fighter’s Grit
- Skill Power: Reactive Surge
- Warden at-will 1: Weight of Earth
- Warden at-will 1: Tempest Assault
- Warden Bonus At-Will Power (Human): Thorn Strike
- Warden encounter 1: Grasping Winds
- Warden daily 1: Form of Mountain’s Thunder
- Warden utility 2: Erupting Font
- Warden encounter 3: Breath of Chaos
- Warden daily 5: Rampant Forest
- Warden utility 6: Bear’s Endurance
- Warden encounter 7: Mountain’s Stature
- Warden daily 9: Form of the Sirocco
- Warden utility 10: Earthstride
- Iron Guardian encounter 11: Guardian’s Might
- Wind Warrior Encounter 11: Charge to Glory
ITEMS Dual-Threat Gauntlets (heroic tier), Helm of Exemplary Defense (heroic tier), Pincer Shield Heavy Shield (heroic tier), Iron Armbands of Power (heroic tier), Rushing Cleats (heroic tier), Strikebacks (heroic tier), Belt of Sonnlinor Righteousness (heroic tier), Woundstitch Powder (heroic tier), Floating Lantern (heroic tier), Everlasting Provisions (heroic tier), Bag of Holding (heroic tier), Battle Standard of the Hungry Blade (heroic tier), Backpack (empty), Bedroll, Belt Pouch (empty), Chain (10 ft.), Climber’s Kit, Crowbar, Flint and Steel, Footpads, Grappling Hook, Hammer, Hunter’s Kit, Journeybreads (10), Pitons (20), Silk Rope (50 ft.) (3), Residuum (Any) (500), Amulet of Life +1, Khopesh of Great Opportunity +1, Potion of Healing (heroic tier) (5), Elixir of Dragonbreath (heroic tier) (3), Bed of Rapid Rest (heroic tier), Point Blank Javelin +1, Hungry Spear Spear +1, Staggering Mace +1, Guardian’s Call Spear +1, Maw of the Guardian Khopesh +1, Defensive Sickle +1, Maw of the Guardian Spear +1, Solkara’s Boon, Reinforcing Wyvernscale Armor +3
It seemed only natural that the Goliaths would realize their strength. But it wasn’t trust that brought the rest of them into Goram’s tribe. He was simply the biggest, the meanest of all of them. Now, it was impossible to remember him as the sweet, helpful half-giant that always helped rebuild when the storms took down the roof, offered his bed to the sick and dying, worked far longer than anyone else cared to…or even could. Always whistling that odd tune, a happy melody that carried through the forest, over the mountains…the birds even seemed to know it, to harmonize with it.
Pangu could hear that song now. It sang from every animal, plant and stone that he strode past. It emerged in a deep voice from beneath the mountains and hills, whispered lightly in the wind, murmured in the streams descending to the World’s great river. And though the song was the same, each voice melded and harmonized within it, so it always varied, always danced.
Once, he and the other wilden had followed Goram everywhere just hear him, laugh with him. Perhaps that was why it had been so easy for Goram to enslave them, once the change started.
He topped the final rise at last. Slaves toiled below him, moving slowly up and down narrow trails, hauling giants blocks, dirt, rocks from a deep excavation. They were of all races in the World, though he couldn’t see any wilden. What had happened to them?
The trail of toil then wound up to a plateau, where a great building rose even higher than the nearest peak. Goram was trying to touch the Wyrd.
Bodies littered the pathway, ground beneath feet and stone. Goliaths with whips moved them faster or beat them to death. The unbearable stench of death, sweat, blood and fear filled Pangu’s nostrils.
Goram stood at the base of the building, the end of his obsidian-spiked club on the ground, held loosely in his hand. He was shouting instructions upward to another half-giant, who was busy kicking a Halfling. The little woman staggered and cowered under the blow, slipped on the edge of the building and tumbled off the edge, splattering on the ground near Goram, who laughed.
Fear clutched Pangu’s chest. The last time he had seen Goram had been in the battle to protect his wilden family from slavery. Armed with a shovel, he had stood in the doorway of his home. “You will not pass!”
That laugh, so evil now, soulless. “Fine, Weed.”
Pangu had swung the shovel, jerkily, short of his mark. The club came down and all was dark. Until the song – and Avala – had woken him. The Song of Souls was faint, not because it was difficult to hear, but because this wandering shard had lost its Elders – just like all the others. And beneath the song of the sheer joy of existence, there was something Pangu had never heard in Goram’s tune: Sadness – of the shard missing the rest of the world, the worlds, the mountains it had once known, the oceans. Whatever those things were. There was so much more, once.
And Avala, looking into his eyes, had hummed the Song to him. She could hear it – and knew it – too.
In spite of the fear, Pangu moved forward. Today this ended. The silly tower, the slavery, Goram – his old and dear friend. The gentle giant who had once sung the Song of Souls. It took them a long time to notice his approach, confident as they were in their strength. Goram was only a couple hundred steps away – and when the alarm went up, he looked and laughed.
“Back from the dead, Pangu? Did that stinking bitch send you? That silly armor and axe will not save you, Weed.”
Pangu stopped and planted his banner, surprised at how nonchalant Goram was to see him. had he become so insane that he could not even appreciate resurrection?
The half-giants surged forward, whips singing. A few held mauls, axes, giant clubs. They stopped just out of Pangu’s reach, striking from a distance. Most of the blows bounced harmlessly from his armor, though he felt the crunch of a hammer through his breastplate and the sting of a whip on his face. He raised his sword and the wind rushed around him, a tornado of dust that pulled them into his blade. Blood spurted from deep gashes in arms, faces, chests. They struggled to run, and the banner pulled them back. They tried to pull the banner from the ground and died for it. They panicked and tried to flee, some died, some Pangu allowed to go.
Already, he wept, as his blows killed their songs.
The first wave ended, and the rain of weapons began – hammers, spears, javelins. They were afraid to come close. Pangu pulled up the banner and advanced slowly, hiding behind his shield. Many of the weapons found home, but even as he weakened from blood loss, he breathed the Song, felt it move through his veins and stitch his wounds. He reached the line and they fought and held, until Pangu became the wind, whipping sand into their eyes, their blows lost in the storm he had become.
They scattered, and Goram remained. He looked serious, inquisitive.
“Did the Wyrd woman teach you this? Stay with me, and we will touch the Wyrd together.” He gestured behind him to the tower.
Pangu shook his head.
The onslaught took him by surprise, so swift and sudden, blow after blow. Pangu life drained from him again, as Goram’s club crushed his head. Desperately, he drew from the song in the ground, and it roared through him. He shifted behind the half-giant, brought his sword-axe upward, drawing more strength from the blow.
Goram fled up the tower.
Pangu followed, winding higher and higher until they neared the top. The winds of the Wyrd pulled at them, trying to knock them over the precarious edge. Goram turned and swung his club again. Pangu ducked, and his sword-axe transformed to thorny branches, digging into Goram’s neck and pulling him close.
The half-giant’s next blow fell weakly on Pangu’s shield, and the wilden drew from stone deep beneath the plateau, shoving Goram backwards. His arms flailed as he tried not to fall. Pangu grabbed him and pulled him back and to the ground.
“I’m sorry, Goram” he cried, tears falling freely. But Goram smiled and struck with a knife, digging deeply through the bark of Pangu’s skin.
Pangu brought down his blade. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he screamed, each cry another blow. He wept, bent over the body. The Song of Souls flickered out of the half-giant’s body, and in that moment of silence, Pangu heard the Wyrd. It was the same song, the pitches all wrong, the tones corrupted and harmonious at the same time. Then it was gone. The Song of Souls returned, faint and beautiful and mourning, as always. Pangu breathed a sigh of relief, listening, head cocked. He shook his head and wondered if he had heard those strange tones at all.