Rise of Cetan
Draconin Legacy Longsword
+5 to hit
2d6 + 5 + 1d2 damage; 2 against inherently evil creatures; can crit on undead
17 – 20 critical range (2 damage)
10 foot whirlwind attack 3/day
soul smite 1/day (apply ten negative levels to self; paralyzed for 1d6 hours after use; deals d8 + wisdom modifier damage for each hit dice caster has)
Previously Zoroth and Zoroth the Tempest, Zoroth is now known as the Biting Gale.
Zoroth has currently been awakened thrice: once when Lyker flew through a stormcloud fleeing from Gnollish archers, and once after staying on his feet when the rest of the party was downed in a battle against zombies in the Glade of no Return. The final awakening occurred when Zoroth was returned to its resting place.
Backstory of the blade itself:
Zoroth was enshrined eons ago in the floating Hecaden di Zoroth. Zoroth is a blade of ancient power, enshrined in a floating temple that bears its name by the ancient Cetaneans. After a humiliating defeat in the first level of the Necropolis, Lyker Wra’li searched for several months for the legendary temple to retrieve the mythical sword. Underestimating the temple, he was trapped for several weeks without supplies and nearly starved to death. A noble of the Lower Clans eventually broke open a door and mocked Lyker before leaving him to tell the clans of his disgrace. Lyker left the temple, starving and humiliated, but carrying Zoroth with him. (Citation needed: Lyker failed at life but still got the sword?)
Zoroth originated as a spectacularly crafted blade wielded by Zoroth di wer Thrae, founder of the Thrae bloodline. He was a mighty paladin of Vara, and scoured Cetan in search of evil.
Zoroth was not always a noble hero; he began as an orphan boy struggling to survive in the streets of a Cetanean city. While a child, he stole only food, and rather than relying on stealth, he relied on a honed physical strength so as to evade the city guard by means of powerful feats of leaping across the rooftops. Eventually, upon attaining his 20th year, he planned a heist that would free him from his poverty; recently, the duke who ruled the city had commissioned a powerful blade to be built: a longsword unlike any other, with a hilt of gold and a blade that resembled diamond. Zoroth snuck into the castle, and as he lay hands on the blade, doors slammed shut about him. As he heard the alarms sound, he panicked. Taking the sword in hand, he smashed through one of the walls and leapt through the hole, running as fast as he could. The guards chased him up the castle steps, until eventually, he rose to the top of the castle’s highes spire. Suddenly, thunderclouds gathered about the peak, and a bolt of lightning struck the blade. Zoroth was knocked from his lofty perch by the lightning, and fell to the earth below. (Lightning Flight)
When he awoke, he was in a moving wagon. Zoroth crawled out from under a bedsheet, and found that the blade lay next to him. When he confronted the man at the head of the wagon, he found that he had been picked up by a paladin of Vara. Soon, Zoroth would become the paladin’s pupil. For years, he trained in the way of the blade. Zoroth trained for fifteen years under the tutelage of the paladin, until one fateful day, a group of brigands ambushed them. At the time, Zoroth and the paladin had been travelling in the company of a group of gypsies, escorting them safely to their next location. The paladin, weakened by age, was slain. At first, Zoroth hid beneath a wagon, fear-stricken at his masters death. But, as he heard the screams and cries of the dying, he grew angry at these scoundrels who called themselves men. Rising from beneath the wagon, Zoroth walked into the group of murderers and thieves, his blade flashing about his body. Bandits came at him, surrounding him. Zoroth fought as hard as he could, but eventially, he too fell to his knees, defeated. As he saw the final blow descending towards his exposed kneck, a primal rage grew inside of him, however it was strangely accompanied by a soothing feeling of calm. Just as the sword would have ended his life, Zoroth stood, dodging out of the way of the blade and releasing a great cry, gripping his blade with both hands, spinning in a wide circle. As he did, wind seemed to swirl about him, and the mighty swing cut the bandits down where they stood (the last stand).
After his battle with the bandits, Zoroth set off to do battle against evil, to scourge the world of sin. For years, he fought the greatest evil he could find, slaying black and red dragons, and toppling evil kings. A century late, however, Zoroth would encounter an evil that he could not defeat. Deep in the heart of the western lands, along a large mountain range, a powerful dragon, once a servant of Vara, had committed the ultimate sin: Lichdom. Eothir, the Holy One, had turned to serve Bekir, God of destruction, and had sacrificed his goodness and stature for the power of undeath. The Dracolich Eothir swept across the country, destroying all in its path, killing thousands and razing cities to the ground. Zoroth put out a a calling for a band of great heroes, and soon, he was answered as some of the finest companions one could have joined at his side: Shorumath, master thief, stalker of shadows; Kaza and Rakael, a reknowned pair of a fighter and a ranger, fast as blood; Morkrail, a powerful mage, master of flames; and Torush, a poweful soldier, known as the lightning fighter. As they departed, Zoroth bid farewell to his bride, a reknowned bard, and his young son, for the final time.
The party of heroes set off to the western lands, now known as the World’s End Marsh, to do battle with the evil Eothir. They fought many horrors on their passage deep into the marsh; undead, the reanimated corpses of the thousands slain by Eothir, and legions of demonic creatures pursued them, until finally, they reached their goal: the Spire. The party proceeded into the maelstrom of dark energy that swirled about the evil structure, and Zoroth prayed to Vara, praying that she would grant him her strength. They entered the immense structure, and climbed to its top, preparing themselves for the battle of their lives. They were outmatched.
The battle that ensued was the thing of legend. Shorumath was the first to strike, his shadowy blade piercing the flesh of the slumbering lich. The dragon howled, an unnatural sound, and revealed its true power. Dark energy flooded the chamber, draining the life of each of the combatants. Zoroth ordered the others to get to safety; he knew his time had come. Uttering a prayer to Vara, Zoroth strode forward into the maelstrom, the dark power stripping the flesh from his bones. Holding his blade proudly in front of him, he began to channel all of his energy into the sword, calling on Vara to fuel the spell. As he felt his very soul being pulled into the blade, he struck. The spell was unleashed on Eothir, silencing the Dracolich, sending him into a deep slumber, and Zoroth died as his very soul was sucked into his sword. Around the bodies of the two, the spire, crafted of flesh and dark magic, collapsed, its master no longer able to maintain it, and the two were flung into the debris.
Later, hundreds of Draconin would visit the site to pay their respects to the reknowned hero, his wife attending the funeral with her lute, singing a sad song for her lost love. The people of Cetan erected a massive temple for the fallen paladin, sealing the dracolich Eothir in the temple’s underbelly using powerful magics, and enshrined Zoroth’s blade and body in the temple, directly over the chamber that held Eothir. The final act given to Zoroth as a gift of parting was a powerful enchantment placed upon the temple, lifting the massive stone and marble structure into the sky, entombing Zoroth in the bosom of his goddess. (Return to the Origins)