(Marco, Wrath of the Righteous 3)
Hobgoblin geokineticist 6, mythic champion 1
Strength 13, Dexterity 17/19, Constitution 18/20,
Intelligence 10, Wisdom 12, Charisma 8
I am a hobgoblin who grew up on the streets of Kenabres. I was known in the local taverns as the one who could drink anyone under the table. As a young adult, I was taken in by an ex-crusader named Torell, who taught me about fighting demons, and inspired me to become a crusader. But the day I was supposed to go to the local enlistment office, a rogue earth elemental broke loose and nearly killed Torell, and before I knew it, I had thrown myself at it and was beating its face in with Torell’s old scimitar. It quickly went back down into the earth where it came, but not before landing a solid blow on me, breaking most of my ribs and my left arm, and launching me into a wall. I could see a bone sticking out, and I thought that my end was soon. But I saw a figure limp over to me with what looked like a potion. The figure bent down and fed it to me, while casting a spell. My eyes refocused, and I saw Torell swearing and casting a healing spell on me.
I looked at myself, and the bleeding cuts and bone in my arm were helping as I watched. Torell explained that he was never in danger, because of an old amulet that was from an old friend, that had saved his life. He had run over to me after seeing me get thrown through a wall, and quickly grabbed his most potent healing potion (that he had revived as a gift from an old Oread monk named Ulgar), and poured it down my throat. I got up, and saw that I was about 12 feet clear of the wall, and had smashed through a small shop. The shopkeeper ran over yelling, and I waved at him because I recognized him and wanted to explain. A large chunk of stone flew at him and knocked him over.
I looked at my hand, then at him, then at the stone. Torell stared at me. To make a long story short, in a week, I was practicing with my new ability to shoot blasts of stone, and Torell told me that people like me, who can manipulate the elements, we are called kineticists. I resolved to still become a crusader, using my powers over the earth instead of a blade.
When I was apprenticed to Torell, he told me that he had known a great hobgoblin crusader by the name of Boldur. Boldur had a child, and he followed in his father’s footsteps, and became a crusader. Torell said that Boldur’s son looked quite a bit like me, eyes and all. They had both died heroically fighting off a glabrezu demon that had teleported behind their lines, and was killing men left and right. Their combined efforts killed it, but it had been carrying a volatile looking orb, and with the great demon’s last breath, it smashed it. That spot is still visible today, a one sized explosion that is about a mile away form the city. Boldur and his son had both realized what the demon was doing, and used their bodies to block the blast away from the crusaders behind them. They were, respectively, my grandfather and my father, and I have felt vengeance flowing in my veins ever since hearing this tale.