Tarrantus the Red Horn

Massive, red furred minotaur with evident sorrows upon his shoulders.


Tarrantus the Red Horn
Level 9 Barbarian (Striker)
Medium natural humanoid (Minotaur)

Initiative +4; Passive Senses Perception 21, Insight 14; Low-light vision
HP 75; Bloodied 37
Healing Surge 18; Surges Per Day 13
AC 20; Fortitude 24, Reflex 17, Will 16
Speed 6; Action Points 1; Bennie Points

Alignment Unaligned; Languages Common, Deep-Speech
Trained Athletics +16, Endurance + 12, Perception +11
Untrained Acrobatics +3, Arcana +3, Bluff +4, Diplomacy +4, Dungeoneering +4, Heal +4, History +3, Insight +4, Intimidate +4, Nature +6, Religion +3, Stealth +3, Streetwise +4, Thievery +3
Feats Powerful Charge, Opportunity Gore, Greathorn, Weapon Prof (Execution axe), Skill Power
Str 22 (+6/+10) Dex 10 (+0/+4) Wis 10 (+0/+4)
Con 18 (+4/+8) Int 8 (-1/+3) Cha 11 (+0/+4)
Possessions Standard adventuring gear, Vanguard Execution Axe +2, Boots of Adept Charging, Horned Helm, Marauder’s Hide Armor +2, Cloak of the Walking Wounded +2, Potion of Healing (x2), 180gp.

Racial Traits Ferocity, Goring Charge, Heedless Charge, Vitality
Class Features Barbarian Agility, Feral Might (Rageblood Vigor), Rage Strike, Rampage
Backgrounds Origins: Child Prodigy (+2 Athletics)

Power Descriptions

At-Will Evocations

Howling Strike Barbarian Attack 1
At-WillPrimal, Weapon
Standard Action Melee weapon
Requirement: You must be wielding a melee weapon in two hands.
Target: One creature
Attack: +14 vs AC
Hit: 1d12+1d6+8 damage.
Special: When charging, you can use this power in place of a melee basic attack. If you are raging, you can move 2 extra squares as part of the charge.

Recuperating Strike Barbarian Attack 1
At-WillPrimal, Weapon
Standard Action Melee Weapon
Target: One creature
Attack: +14 vs. AC
Hit: 1d12+8 damage, and you gain temporary hit points equal to your Constitution modifier (+4). If you are raging, the number of temporary hit points you gain equals 5 + your Constitution modifier (+4).

Encounter Evocations

Goring Charge Minotaur Racial Power
Standard Action Melee 1
Effect: You charge and make the following attack in place of a melee basic attack.
Target: One Creature
Attack: +14 vs. AC
Hit: 1d8+6 damage and you knock the target prone.

Swift Charge Rageblood Barbarian Feature
Trigger Your attack reduces an enemy to 0 hit points.
Effect: You charge an enemy.

Desperate Fury Barbarian Attack 1
EncounterPrimal, Weapon
Standard Action Melee Weapon
Target: One creature
Attack: +14 vs AC
Hit: 2d12+8 damage.
Rageblood Vigor: The attack deals extra damage equal to your Constitution modifier (+4).
Miss: You can take 5 damage to reroll the attack. If the reroll hits, use the hit effect above. If the reroll misses, you take 5 damage.

Reckless Rampage Barbarian Attack 3
EncounterPrimal, Weapon
Standard Action Melee Weapon
Target: One creature
Effect: Before the attack, you move your speed. If an enemy makes an opportunity attack against you as a result of this movement, you gain combat advantage against the target of this attack.
Rageblood Vigor: Add your Constitution modifier (+4) to the distance you can move.
Attack: +14 vs. AC
Hit: 2d12+8 damage.

Looming Threat Barbarian Attack 7
EncounterPrimal, Weapon
Standard Action Melee Weapon
Target: One Creature
Attack: +14 vs AC
Hit: 2d12+8 damage. If the target is marked by an ally, the attack deals 1d12 extra damage. You then mark the target until the end of your next turn.
Rageblood Vigor: Until the mark ends, you gain a power bonus to damage rolls against the target equal to your Constitution modifier (+4).

Combat Sprint Barbarian Utility 2
Move Action Personal
Effect: You move your speed +4. You gain a +4 bonus to all defenses against any opportunity attack you provoke with this movement.

Mighty Sprint Skill Utility 6
Move Action Personal
Effect: You move your speed +4. During this movement, you ignore difficult terrain and gain a +5 power bonus to Athletics checks made as part of the move.
Prerequisite: You must be trained in Athletics.

Daily Evocations

Thunder Hooves Rage Barbarian Attack 1
DailyPrimal, Rage, Weapon
Standard Action Melee Weapon
Target: One Creature
Attack: +14 vs. AC
Hit: 3d12+8 damage
Miss: Half damage
Effect: You enter the rage of the thunder hooves. Until the rage ends, you can move through one or two enemies’ spaces during each of your turns. When you move through an enemy’s space, your next attack against that enemy during the same turn deals 1d12 extra damage.

Silver Phoenix Rage Barbarian Attack 5
DailyFire, Healing, Primal, Rage, Weapon
Standard Action Melee Weapon
Target: One creature
Attack: +14 vs AC
Hit: 2d12+8 fire damage, and ongoing 5 fire damage (save ends).
Miss: Half damage.
Effect: You enter the rage of the silver phoenix. Until the rage ends you gain regeneration 3. In addition, the first time you drop to 0 hit points or fewer, you can spend a healing surge as an immediate interrupt.

Black Dragon Rage Barbarian Attack 9
DailyAcid, Primal, Rage, Weapon
Standard Action Melee Weapon
Target: One creature
Attack: +14 vs AC
Hit: 2d12+8 acid damage, and ongoing 5 acid damage (save ends).
Miss: Half damage.
Effect: You enter the rage of the black dragon. Until the rage ends, at the start of each of your turns, each enemy adjacent to you is blinded until the end of your turn.

Rage Strike Barbarian Feature
DailyPrimal, Weapon
Standard Action Melee Weapon
Target: One creature
Requirements: You must be raging and have at least one unused rage power.
Attack: +14 vs. AC. To make the attack, you expend an unused barbarian rage power.
Hit: 1st level: 3d12+8; 5th level: 4d12+8
Miss: Half damage.
Special: You can use this power twice per day.

Third Wind Skill Utility 6
Minor Action Personal
Effect: You spend a healing surge.
Special: As a standard action an adjacent ally may make a DC 10 Heal check to allow you to use this power without spending an action yourself.
Prerequisite: You must be trained in Athletics.

Magic Items

+2 Marauder’s Hide Armor
Armor: Chain
Enhancement: +2 AC
Property: When you charge, you gain +1 bonus to AC until the end of your next turn.
Power (Daily ✦ Healing): Free
Trigger: You hit with a charge attack.
Effect: You make a saving throw with a bonus equal to the armor’s enhancement bonus, or you spend a healing surge and regain additional hit points equal to the armor’s enhancement bonus.

+2 Vanguard Execution axe
Weapon: Execution axe
Enhancement: +2 attack rolls and damage rolls
Critical: +2d8 damage
Property: Deal +1d8 damage on any successful charge
Property: High Crit
Property: Brutal 2
Power (Daily): Minor
Effect: Use this power when you make a charge attack. If you hit with your charge attack, all allies within 10 squares of you gain a +1 bonus to attack rolls and gain your Charisma bonus as a bonus to damage rolls until the start of your next turn.

+2 Cloak of the Walking Wounded
Item Slot: Neck
Enhancement: +2 to Fort, Ref and Will
Property: If you use your second wind while bloodied, you can expend two healing surges instead of one (gaining hit points from both).

Boots of Adept Charging
Item Slot: Feet
Property: After charging, you can shift 1 square before your turn ends.

Horned Helm
Item Slot: Head
Property: Your charge attacks deal +1d6 damage

Current XP: 16,414
Next Level: 16,500

Height: 7’6” Weight: 340 lbs Age: 22
Eyes: Grey Fur: Rusty Red Skin: Bronzed

A snuffle comes from the shadows. “So you want to hear my tale do you?” a deep gruff baritone voice speaks. Enormous curving horns stretching into the light come into view; carvings of glyphs and notches from battle etch their length. Eventually a rusty furred snout emerges, wet and scarred from old wars and tired gray eyes that show a greater age than the body itself. The minotaur’s head is red and aged and one of the largest any have seen in a great while.

“You want to know how I began? How I was small? The origins of Tarrantus?” booms the voice. “I will tell you small-one. Head my words but understand though that all must walk their own path from Baphomet.” The gargantuan form of the minotaur begins to pull itself into view from out of the shadow, bathing itself in the lamp’s light. Hundreds of scars mar the torso from great healed gashes to small pockmarks. The giant’s arms ripple with corded muscles as it pulls itself into view, wild labyrinthine tattoos cover generous portions of the neck and arms. “Well, lets begin at the beginning shall we…”

When born, the Thunderhoof tribe was small, it had been a splinter tribe that did not agree that fealty to another god and driving ourselves away from the spirits of the land would free us from the bestial grip of Baphomet. Their lot had been hard, they were trying to balance the wicked influence of Baphomet with the good natural spirits of the land guiding us. The elders were old minotaur who had transcended Baphomet’s grip by listening to the world, the natural spirits guided them to serenity and aided their decisions.

The elder in Tarrantus’ youth was his own grandfather, you may now know him now as Jakoomah the Corrupt. Jakoomah had led the tribe for since before Tarrantus was born. There had been times of war and times of peace, but it seemed during Tarrantus’ youth that the tribe was primarily at war with surrounding tribes of humans, elves and others that listened to the land. Tarrantus was born under the eyes of Jakoomah who placed a mark upon his head. Jakoomah declared that Tarrantus was to be a great warrior and that he had seen the young one’s deeds. This made Tarrantus’ parents proud. This same prophecy also doomed Tarrantus to his fate for he had no other choice but to be a warrior.

From the earliest age Tarrantus was trained for war. He was given a weapon as soon as he could stand on his own without falling. His training pitted him against small-lings half again his age. He was steeped in battle as was his destiny. This honed battle lust would bring a tough road before Tarrantus. The tyrannical spirit of rage was so ingrained in Tarrantus in battle that he was swiftly losing the fight against Baphomet, he was on the road to becoming a mindless killing beast.

Jakoomah seemed almost pleased at the near monstrous Tarrantus. The boy was never taught much and aside from training and battle, was kept cloistered from the majority of the tribe. The wars though, that is when Jakoomah showed his true nature. He used Tarrantus as a tool, a walking weapon, even though he was still just a child. The battles would start, the human tribes would try peace talks but were always threatened in the presence of Jakoomah. He kept Tarrantus at his side during the talks, a youth that was near ravenous. The other tribes would never leave happy and war would spill out soon enough.

Jakoomah seemed to revel in releasing his grandchild. The beast was unconquerable, the child would rampage and rage and many fell at his feet. It wasn’t until a fateful battle where Tarrantus turned on his own kind in his rage that the other members of the tribe understood the error that was made.

The battle was long against the human tribe, neither would give, the minotaurs had fewer numbers but their size and brutality made up for it, they charged into battle impaling the first line on their horns. Tarrantus was held back until the front was clear and then released among a few other berserkers. He charged headlong screaming and snorting, roaring and leaping into the fray. He gored men with his horns, he cleaved them with his axe, his coat was crimson with sticky man-blood. He fought until there was a wide berth about him as warriors avoided his grasp. Without targets Tarrantus lashed out wildly spinning and searching for an outlet for his rage. He charged when he found a target and leaped upon his prey bringing his head down into it’s belly and tearing it open. He pulled his head up and with a feral roar brought his greataxe down again and again until the head and chest were so much red sludge.

Within moments Tarrantus was facing off other opponents again, blurred visages charged him, gouging his body with pointed objects and hammering him with force. He began to fall, his rage built up and he swung wildly and felt his axe sink into meat. He kept striking, a limb flew and he heard roars and screams in a language that was vaguely familiar but he kept going. As the foes finally began to bring him low a figure rushed in and began to push the creatures away. As a last act of desperation before the world faded Tarrantus swung his greataxe and caught the interloper in the throat severing the head from the body. Tarrantus fell and the battle ended for him.

The aged minotaur slumps, his massive shoulders sag and he lets out a snuffling sigh. He is tired and it shows. He slowly pushes himself up and props his weight on his knees, leaning forward. “Let us continue…”

Terrantus awoke, he had not died that day, but how long had it been? The world was blurry and a lone figure stood above him. He felt pressure on his arms and legs holding him down and the figure leaned in close. It was his mothers face. Tarrantus felt fear, he wasn’t captive by the humans, he was being held by his own people… His own family! He struggled, the red tint came over his eyes and he began to rage at the world once more. He saw a figure, a familiar face hover into view as he began to settle. The tribes eldest shaman. He looked sorrowfully at Tarrantus and he spoke. “Baphomet has taken his spirit… There is little that can be done. He slew his own father… His brothers on that field.” Tarrantus jerked his head to look around, he saw his mother’s sorrowful face again, she stared at her son. “He’s all that’s left of our family line, is there no hope for him?”

The aged shaman looked into Tarrantus’ eyes and huffed… “I will converse with my brethren, I must speak to the elder Wardens as well, something untoward has happened under Jakoomah’s watch, his own grandchild, under his tutelage has fallen to Baphomet. I suspect there is more here than we see.” With that the gray old minotaur placed a hand upon Tarrantus’ head and he slept again.

Awakening was hard, chains bound Tarrantus to the ground, he recognized those around him, he saw the elder Wardens and the elder Shamans. They had encircled Tarrantus and the shamans called to spirits of healing as the Wardens watched Tarrantus closely. The world blurred as smoke rose from around him and in tune with the chant did it dance into his nostrils, into his eyes and into his mouth. Tarrantus felt Baphomet in him, he felt His fury rise, Baphomet’s bestial hunger erupted as a roar from Tarrantus’ mouth as he strained at his bindings and felt them begin to give. Words were shouted from the Wardens as the chains snapped under the tyrant’s fury. As the Wardens reached for their weapons to defend the Shamans something happened, something almost clandestine. Jakoomah entered the Shaman hut in a burst of rage. Tarrantus fell upon him swiftly with horns teeth and claws. Jakoomah was caught off guard and despite his own prowess fell to the younger beast. Within moments Tarrantus was tearing Jakoomah asunder despite his gargled screams as Tarrantus tore his throat out. The Wardens fell upon Tarrantus, their combined efforts bringing him to the ground and knocking him unconscious once more.

Awakening this time was a simple task for Tarrantus, he sat up unrestrained and the world was clear. He felt his head burn for a second, his mind raced, he remembered things in a red fog and felt like they were years away. He remembered carnage and remembered pain and anger and a looming darkness. It was all so distant, as though it were a dream or a different lifetime. He stood and his legs felt weak, like the muscles were in the first stage of atrophy. He took steps to the door and opened it into the midday heat. The light burned his vision.

Tarrantus felt awake, but there was still something in his mind, something angry. All around him moved away as he walked. He decided to go in search of the elder shaman to find out what happened. He walked unimpeded toward the shaman hut, inside he found the eldest shaman laid out on a bed another shaman stood over him. Tarrantus approached and knelt before the bed and asked what had happened. The shaman elder turned his head toward Tarrantus and smiled “We put a binding child. We locked Baphomet’s influence deep, pressing it down, you are your own again… for now.” Tarrantus leaned in closer “What did you do to me?” The shamans lips parted “We set the ritual of binding in motion, it was actually Jakoomah who completed it unknowingly. He was your catalyst and by releasing Baphomet upon him we were able to leash him. Jakoomah died in your hands.” The young minotaur’s eyes widened and asked “What has happened? Who leads the tribe?” “Your mother has stepped up to take his place, she has started peace talks with the surrounding tribes now that the unclean has fallen.” coughed the shaman. “You aren’t free yet though child, Baphomet still has his horns in you, he is still stronger in you than in others, you will have to work hard to overcome this, and one day you will be tested.” With that statement, the shaman coughed again and lay still. The other shaman tended to him and brought him water and the elder’s chest slowly rose and fell with his sleeping breath.

Tarrantus went in search of his mother, he found her in the elder’s tent and she turned to her son. Sadness and anger washed over her features as she stared at her last remaining child. “You are awake? Are you clear of mind?” She stared balefully at her son. “Yes mother… I mean Elder Akora…” She eyed him thoughtfully. “I have worked hard to undo what Jakoomah has done. The peace talks are going well…” Tarrantus looked hopefully at his mother who did not return his sentiment. “But there is a problem.” The look on her face was one of sadness, guilt, hatred and resignation. “You are a symbol son, they fear you, you are the mark that Jakoomah has left on them, on us. They tell their children stories of ‘Tarrantus the Red Horn’ to frighten them into obedience. They watch your sleeping chamber warily when they walk through the village. The elders glance to my side in the meets, half expectant to see you there slavering for carnage…”

“But mother… I’m well…” Tarrantus managed before she cut him off with a snort. “No child, you are not well. Baphomet still sleeps here.” and she rested her hand on his heart. “You must leave, I have lost all that I loved except for you and this tribe. You must find your own way now. The shaman’s have given you a second chance, Baphomet’s influence has been chained but not extinguished. One day, you will have to be stronger than Him… One day, you will have to face the demon inside you.” Tarrantus was stunned by the declaration, his own mother casting him out, but she was also the Elder now, she had to make decisions for the whole of the Thunderhoof tribe. “I understand mother.” Tarrantus began to slowly turn away to gather his belongings.

“Son.” his mother called, causing Tarrantus to slump further. “I hope to see you again, as a whole, as tranquil.” Tarrantus walked again out the door, vaguely noting his mothers sobbing snorts as he made his way to his home to gather his things and prepare for the road ahead.

Tarrantus didn’t say anything to anyone as he left. He went under cover of night so as not to disturb anyone and began to wander. He wasn’t quite sure where to start at and just found a road and traveled. During his wanderings Tarrantus ran afoul many brigands, raiders and thieves along the roads. Every time he was confronted and threatened, he made them realize that they had made a grave mistake in expecting anything other than swift evisceration and brutal rage when they confront a massive minotaur. The rage of Baphomet, while chained, was still strong in Tarrantus’ heart, the best he could do now was to guide it toward his foes and away from his friends.

His wanderings took him many places, his only wishes to find a peaceful place where he is not shunned, to meditate and relax and reign in the influence of Baphomet. He eventually embraced his moniker “The Red Horn” after his propensity to gore his opponents on his massive horns during combat and carried it with him. The survivors who fled his fury also spread this name, because by the time any battle was a mere few moments in, his horns would have been spattered in viscera. The Red Horn continued his journey, an attempt to find his way, an attempt to find allies and banish Baphomet from his soul. He hangs on solely by his meditations and the runes of binding that he etches into his own horns and skin to keep Baphomet at bay, but one day, this will not be enough… One day he will either break to the beast, or it will break to him.

Tarrantus the Red Horn

The Dark Explodinator