Guard Captain Ralpor Wales

Standing a bit on the short side, this man with greying hair, scars across his face, and an eyepatch to match a nasty slice across his eye, this man wears a grey and blue uniform with pads of armor depicting the Grand Lodge insignia.

  • LG
  • 10 Cavalier
  • Deity: Torag
  • Love: his father, the Pathfinders under his command
  • Hate: orcs, the Aspis Consortium (who have caused the injury of several of his allies)
  • Goal: Ralpor hopes to create his own legacy, free of his father’s shadow.

Originally from the Highhelm, Raplor’s life has been one of toil. Born to a wealthy soldier, Ralpor had nothing less than greatness expected of him. His father defended wealthy caravans from giants and trolls on his lonesome, pushed back incursions of duergars and orcs from the Five Kings Mountains, and even saved ten lives from a cave-in nearly a mile down. With big boots to fill, Raplor had no time for pleasantries. He held his first axe by the time he could stand, and the first words he learned from his parents were “yes sir.”

His father taught him day and night, in the grueling heat and frigid mountaintops. He climbed sheer cliffs, sparred with exotic golems, and even was left on the top of a mountain to find his way home. He worked a humble career in the mines before he was strong enough to fight for the kingdoms of the dwarves.

By this point the dwarves were long past their glory days, and Raplor’s father saw nothing less than the restoration of the Sky Citadels in his son. A hope that Ralpor would never live up to.

His growth was slow coming, but he definitely had the axe arm his father had. He worked small operations for the military of Highhelm, guarding caravans and important officials. He was often called the “hero in training” as his father’s reputation preceded him. Few thought that his hard work really lived up to what his father had done, but Ralpor always begged for another chance, claiming that his life had only just begun.

Finally, he hit it big. A chance in a decade, the merchants of Highhelm gathered together to perform a regular trading route through dangerous territory. As they always did, they hired dozens of other dwarven guards to augment their already impressive forces. Ralpor was hired as what was jkingly referred to a “spear catcher”. The trails were quick drives from Highhelm through the Darkmoon Vale into Andoran.

The trail was longer than the guards expected, and food supplies ran lower than the caravan anticipated due to poor and rushed planning. When the guards were reaching to the bottoms of their empty mess kits, a group of kobolds struck from the wood. Spears and arrows fell like rain from the trees as the reptilian folk caught the dwarves tired and flat-footed. The mercenaries hired to guard the caravan fared poorly, but Ralpor fought hard, having something to prove to his father. The caravan’s mightiest guards lay beaten and bruised on the soil as the kobolds readied to land killing blows. Thinking quickly, Ralpor cut down a nearby tree, cutting off the archers and magic users among the kobolds. He called out for the other guards to help him roll the tree over the reptilian foes. Other guards took his strategy and replicated it to create quick barricades and occasional fiery deterrents.

The caravan made it to Almas on schedule, and Ralpor was given commendations for his creative strategies. He was realized to be something beyond his fighting father: a strategist.

He had never been trained by his old-fashioned father for strategy, but his ability to manage battlefields continued to impress his peers. He received decorations for engineering avalanches on top of frost giants, carefully sliding entire caravans down the mountain side to safety on shelves scree, and even scaring off hill giants with a dragon shadow puppet. This special quality pushed him apart from many of his dwarven brethren, who could scarcely keep up with his trains of thought. He began to tire of explaining everything he had to say to the more stagnant minds of his elders.

One day he was introduced to a member of the Pathfinder Society. He was asked to work alongside a spryly half-elf named Shale Withe. Her free spirit and creative solutions spoke to Ralpor, and he was invited to join the Society. He had decline, as he had prior engagements.

His chance for freedom from the unchanging dwarven ways came when a nasty ambush from a large troll toppled a carriage with important members of the Gathering Council. His quick plan to scare the creature off by burning the lamp oil on the surrounding canyon rock worked, but not before the troll’s frantic attempt to escape caused a landslide that separated Ralpor from his co-workers.

Ralpor suddenly realized that he could be free from these people if he played along with his death. Keeping the search for him off the trail, he threw his voice, making troll sounds to distract the others and complete his escape.

He made his way to Isger, and through Cheliax to find passage to the Grand Lodge in Absalom.

His battle prowess and tactical ingenuity found him a place as the guard captain for the Grand Lodge.

Guard Captain Ralpor Wales

Pathfinder: The Kingdom of Darkness Kot_the_Protector