3. Ponce LaRue

Ponce LaRue


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    Player: Ponce LaRue

    Ponce had always followed the teachings of Torm. Ever since he was a small child, he was brought up in a Tormite household, his father a clergyman at the local church. Ponce grew up in a small cathedral town, some distance inland from the Sword Coast. In this town, everything was related to Torm. Torm festivals, a Torm temple, a Torm school, and a few miles down the road was a Paladin of Torm training barracks. His father, Phillipe LaRue, had hoped that Ponce would take up the cloth some day, and replace his father at the temple. Phillipe was a very stern man, he was unbending and would not accept anything less than total acceptance of the Dogma of Torm. He did not tolerate for an instant any kind of deviance from this path.

    His son, however, did not share these views, and Ponce soon found himself clinging desperately to a belief that the Dogma should be followed, but not actively enforced as his father often claimed. He believed that this kind of faith had to be voluntary in order to be authentic. Regardless, as Ponce aged, he soon came to clash with his father on many issues. The spitting image of his father, people passing the LaRue residence would jokingly hint that they saw a man argueing with himself about the finer points of Torm faith.

    Even in something so normally simple as the undead, they had their disagreements. Both, of course, believed that the undead had to be undone: their very existance was an insult to the life bestowed to mortals by the gods. But Phillipe saw the disposal of undead as a cleansing process, the removal of a blight from the earth. Ponce, on the other hand, saw it as a freeing action, the release of the enslaved body of a fallen soul.

    It was only a matter of time before Ponce decided it was time to leave. Waving goodbye to his parents, a twenty-two year old Ponce left his home and passed the old barracks for the last time. He travelled about randomly, spreading the word of Torm, but also that of moderation, where he could. In other places he was wiser to keep his mouth tight. He went on like this for a number of years, wandering from town to city, and age slowly began to creep up on him. Now 29 years of age, having lost his hair at a young age (it ran in the family, all the way back to great grandfather Franc LaRue), he finds himself at the gates of the city of Norwick…

    Ponce has sufficient intelligence to have known a number of languages aside from common, but his rather sheltered life has resulted in a lack of indulgance in other cultures. With his best language-absorbing years behind him, Ponce has not actively sought to learn a language, choosing instead to perhaps save that when he is too old to do his other works. He is only proficient in common.


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