SKT - Follow The Cleric
Titan the Mighty
Halfling Axe-Thrower extraordinaire and all round person of virtue and use.
The Journey so far-
The dishevelled looking Halfling you met in waterdeep had an ill-favoured look. No ready smile for new acquaintances, no attempt to be amiable or agreeable, just a sullen suspicious stare and frequent sneers. He looked like he had come from the gutter and had made no great effort to leave it; all filthy black rags over hand –me-down brown leathers. His black hair was greasy; he looked a stranger to sleep and a great abhorrer of the bathtub. Given his light weight, you definitely wouldn’t have thought you could trust him as far as you could throw him. In fact, over time, the idea of throwing him has become a steadily more attractive proposition.
You didn’t get a great deal of conversation from him on the trip north. Most polite inquiries about his past were met with suspicion, evasiveness, and quite often, a withering put down regarding some totally unrelated aspect of your person. You heard him muttering constantly to himself, often breaking out into bouts of cackling at some private joke he thereafter refused to share. What was worst of all was that despite all this, he seemed to treat you as the untrustworthy one. He’d always keep his back to a tree or a rock and got very agitated about people behind him. He’d watch you constantly at night and insisted on being the last asleep (although he was always the latest getting up in the morning and nigh-impossible to wake up.)
You began to strongly suspect that the recommendation received by Lady Crystal was some kind of cruel joke and that the Halfling was as useless as he was unpleasant. That was before you saw his axes though. Every time you stopped he’d take the opportunity to fling them at trees, squirrels, or whatever other target presented itself, always with unnerving accuracy and vicious bite. Indeed his six axes festooned on a leather strap about his body were about the only thing he seemed to take good care of, they were always kept polished and wicked sharp. You can’t quite tell if this proficiency of his makes you feel better or worse.
He frequently apes Natalia’s airs and graces in a way that is neither polite nor particularly funny. He refers to Korotir only as ‘Lunk head’ and Brock as ‘peasant’. Only Atara was treated with any deference and awe, although Titan hardly talked to her at all, seemingly unable to know what to make of her.
Indeed, he seemed a lost cause, but after seeing, the strength of Korotir, the dogged bravery of Atara, the miraculous healing of Natalia. There is just the slightest change about him. Was that a flash of respect in his eye?
Since taking up adventuring, Titan’s appearance has changed little. He has some grubby white bandages wrapped tight around his right (throwing) hand, relics from a motlov burn not well healed. He received another very serious burn all over his body and although the powerful healing magic of Natalia restored his skin almost everywhere, there remains an angry mottled patch around one side of his collar and upper chest that you can sometimes catch a glimpse of.
You are not sure how many layers of dark rags Titan wears above his leather, but he always has on his hooded black cloak which seems to have innumerable pockets and pouches whose organisational method is known only to him.
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By any standards, Titan’s life so far has been difficult. Knowing only that he was abandoned in a cheap wicker basket as a babe, he grew up in an orphanage called the boys club.
This was a hard hand to be dealt, but especially for Titan. The only Halfling in the school, the rough and unforgiving environment of the orphanage was especially arduous for its smallest resident. Titan was bullied regularly and sometimes quite savagely, his very name was a point of derision, an off the cuff jest by one of the schoolmasters that stuck, he can’t remember ever being called anything else.
So it was that the young Titan had very few positive personal relationships indeed and began to fashion a hard, defensive armour to compensate. One very notable exception was his adolescent teacher Master Draper, who regularly took pity on him after the cruelest bouts of bulling and offered him sanctuary away from the crowded and squalid general barracks where the boys lived. Titan now completely reveres his old teacher as a result, but master draper was just one man and his charges numbered in the thousands. He couldn’t always protect Titan and the psychological strain on the young Halfling told eventually, he became deeply withdrawn into his own paranoia and it’s difficult sometimes to see the correlation between actual events and Titan’s worst-case interpretation of them.
Like most boys from the orphanage, Titan glided inevitably into a life of crime, easy to do in Waterdeep’s rich underworld. Although Titan is a great admirer of those running the gangs, viewing power as the ultimate guard against betrayal and harm, he never actually joined one himself. Titan has a keen political mind but very little political aptitude. He loves trying to follow the gossip around underground jobs, triumphs and deceits but does so from a detached distance as a lone operative for hire. Titan tells himself that this is because he is a fiercely independent lone wolf, too smart and audacious for the rest of the sheeple. The reality is more mundane; no-one would take him beyond the first rung of the ladder. Most people find him either very odd or downright insulting and as an underworld personality, to the degree that he is known at all, he’s something of a running joke.
Titan has been making a very modest living running basic jobs from various gangrunners. One of them, Claude, recently gave him a job to shadow one of the low level red sashes grunts, nothing specific, just general fact finding about the man’s movements. Titan yelped once he saw the man was none other than Kagan Smyth, Titans chief tormenter at the orphanage.
That little outburst got Titan caught. Adult Kagan had gained plenty of muscly bulk but lost none of his former vindictiveness. He seized Titan and chained him up outside a particularly unsavoury tavern in the docks, the key to his restraints dangled at above at a height easily reachable by a human, impossible for Titan. All were invited to pelt the stricken Halfling, with rotten fruit, nightsoil and whatever other foul substance came to hand. This being the docks, many obliged and Titan was out there for a day and a night before the watch intervened.
This latest humiliation has ignited Titan with a burning desire for revenge. Violence is now too simple and much too risky. He regularly fantasizes about a horde of big, strong allies to humiliate Kagan Smyth, Claude and all his associates. Recently he’s heard tell of Giants in the north and plenty of them. This has set his feverish imagination alight, after all, what’s bigger and stronger than a giant? Titan has been studying all he can of giants and preparing for the merest pretense to journey north, imagining (incorrectly) that Kagan knows of his plan and is watching him. Titan needs a job as cover. He’s not much of a traveler though, having never set foot beyond sight of waterdeep, if only there was some party of intrepid adventurers he could rope into assisting him…