Description
A tangled, greasy mass of wildly unkempt hair conceals almost the entirety
of this dwarf's head, including his face. The average man would experience
great difficulty seeing through all the hair in his face but, like a shaggy
dog, this dwarf somehow manages. His beard is no better as it cascades from
his face in a nearly formless nest of tangles ending just above his knees.
An odd assortment of foreign objects litter both his hair and his beard.
These objects include partially uneaten bits of food, metal shavings, twigs,
clumps of dirt and stones, and dried blood. The casual observer would have
great difficulty describing any of his facial features except the very tip
of what appears like it might be a very broad nose, which is very red and
bluntly rounded. Everything else is hidden behind the mild, mangy hair. His
clothing is all tattered rags and, in this state, seems like it could be
more stain than fabric. There are yellow stains that are probably a mixture
of beer and sweat and dark brownish-red stains that are likely dried blood.
The gods only know what the green stains could be. He stands at approximately
four feet tall. He has a bulbous gut, which seeps over his belt and dangles
to just above where his beard ends. His roundness likely means he weighs well
over 200 pounds. His hands are rough and well-callused, hinting at a life of
hard living. Given his race, the calluses are probably from mining or some
other form of hard manual labor. Large tankards, meant for drinking alcohol,
dangle from hooks on his belt and the sweet smell of full-bodied ale hangs in
the air around him. Looking more closely, you notice that...
Role
The Brink of War
Added Tue May 15 18:57:01 2007 at level 51:
"You retarded or something?"
He hesitated only briefly when he heard the words and then continued on with his
pursuit. The statement, made by an arial assassin and "Seeker of Balance" Mutsu,
was made by the person Gromkonk was chasing after. The assassin, fresh from seeing
his allies kill a young Squire of the Fortress, had reacted poorly to being taken
to task for his indiscretions against the Light. Just days prior a Seeker was helping
this young Squire learn. Now, several others stood over his corpse that another was
figuratively spitting upon from afar. Mutsu's words reaked of disrespect for the dead
and for the Creed the young Squire had sworn himself to uphold. Betrayal, Gromkonk
thought, was at the root of many heinous and evil deeds throughout the world's history.
The fickle allegiances offered by the Seekers, Gromkonk thought, amounted to nothing
more than betrayals in waiting. Further, he realized that even as the world's heathens
and villains were torn asunder the Seekers would take their place in a position against
the Light's vision. Therefore, Gromkonk understood that the "Seekers of Balance" were
little more than heathens in waiting. Gromkonk being a dwarf, and dwarves known for
fiery tempers, was ready to take the Key of the Seekers but was stopped by those perhaps
more wisened than he.
Nonetheless, the Marshall and Gromkonk came to an agreement. Once their duty was done
and the Codex and Scepter were secured, it would be up to each individual Maran and
Squire to decide how the Seekers would be treated. Gromkonk, would be treating them like
the heathens he knew them to be. No longer would he stand idly by and accept their knives
into his back. Further, he would offer and accept no aid to or from them.
Work Hard, Play Hard
Added Sun Mar 4 08:16:23 2007 at level 1:
Personality
Gromkonk can best be described as boorish and sophomoric. He
is loud and crude and it only gets worse when he's drunk. He
is a man's man, with all of the trappings therein. He will be
verbally abusive to those he sees as objectionable (i.e., orcs,
duergar) or weak (i.e., elves) and will be extremely flirtatious
with the women. He is extremely proud and boastful about his
being a dwarf and about the accomplishments of his kin. He values
strength of character, purity of spirit, and tireless dedication
to a cause.
Courage
Despite his flaws, Gromkonk is deeply committed to serving the Light.
He feels that it is his duty to leave the world better off than when
he entered it and the best way he knows how is to destroy those who
are treacherous and heathenous. Additionally, he hopes that his
committment to Courage will embolden others to cast aside their reluctance
to take up arms against the darkness wherever it cowers. He will seek it
out and destroy it whether there are others to back him or not. Zealots
cannot be fearful about the outcome of their actions, they must know that
they are correct in their actions and must stop at nothing to see their
visions through to the end.
Empowered by the Jaguar Goddess Lady Baerinika
Added Sun Mar 18 07:19:02 2007 at level 12:
Baerinika says 'I want you to picture the path laid out before you.'
Baerinika says 'Picture it as a road lined with white light.
Baerinika says 'At the end, envision your goal.'
The words echoed in his skull and the vision she was willing him to
focus upon was as brilliant and clear as it would be were he truly
standing before it.
The fetid stench of death and decay hung in the air like fog. It brought
tears to the eye and vomit to the top of the throat. A massive pile of
rotting corpses lay before him, bodies stacked higher than the mountains
that surround the Fortress of Light. A river of blood seeped out from the
bottom of the pile, its source a million empty eye sockets and other gaping
wounds. Hyenas cackled with glee while circling this seemingly infinite
source of food. Vultures pecked at the exposed skin of the outer corpses,
hopping up and down the mountain in search of fleshier morsels. The corpses
were those of all of the heathens that had been destroyed in the last great
Cleansing, the holy war led by the those within the Fortress of the Light
aimed at ridding Thera of evil once and for all. It had been a fantastic
success. All that was left to do was set alight this massive pyre. Dwarves
had set to spreading fuel, traditional dwarven grog, about the base of the
pyre so that the flames would not take as long to spread. Other dwarves were
lying about at the base of the pile, drinking the traditional grog rather
than using it as fuel for the fire. They looked very refreshed.
In the distance a shining world of peace and tranquility existed. Elves
flitted about and sang whimsical tunes of joy and happiness. It almost
brought as much vomit to the top of the throat as the stench of millions of
corpses did. It was better than a world filled with evil, however, so he
would live with it.
Where the Adventure Began
Added Mon Mar 19 18:42:53 2007 at level 15:
"...You be the son o' a tapster, Gromkonk, what yer know about fightin'?"
"Ah knowin' nuff tuh know dat crap in Mortorn been goin's on fuh fargin'
decades 'n' dur bein' no progress tuh be speakin' o'. Yehs fargin' walk
up dur 'n' yehs see fuh yuhself. Flamin' Ludan yellin' 'bout diggin' in.
Ah say yehs fargin' storm down dur 'n' whips dey arse instead o' diggin'
in. No sense'n fargin' waitin'. Waitin's fuh floppy-wristed point-ears
like dis bastid sittin' next tuh meh."
"I beg your pardon sir, but if it is the high-born you are disparaging I
would ask that you kindly refrain in my presence. Oh, and my name is
Rynlosyl."
"Fark dat. Go flit about in deh fields o' daisies yeh flowa-sniffa. Dis
bein' Akan 'n' ah bein' a long-bearded kin o' deh stout. Ah'll say what
ah'm fargin' pleasin'. Ah'm sayin' dur bein' no reason tuh be diggin' in
'n' sippin' tea. It war. It combat. Raise yeh fargin' axe 'n' brind deh
Light tuhs dem. Matter o' fact, shine deh Light in deh form o' a boot
straight up dey arse!"
"How perfectly convivial. You are quite the gentlement...Gromkonk was it?"
"First o' all, ah'm duh fargin' son o' a tapster pa 'n' a miner ma so ah
have no flamin' idea what dat c-word yeh said means. If'n it was an insult
yehs can put in yeh's ear. Second, gentlemen'r fuh flamin' daisy-sniffin',
wine-sippin, twinkle-toed sacks o' orc dung. Ah'm a fargin' dwarf. Ah no
believe in dat crap."
"I be a dwarf too, Gromkonk, 'n' I be sayin' there be plenty o' gentlemen
in this mountain village o' ours."
"Suck muh beard Modgun, yeh's fair talkin' short-beard. Sidin' wif a fargin'
point-ear. Yeh's pa drinks dandelion wine, ah sure o' it. Obviously yeh's a
couple o' fargin' cowads dat knowin' nothin' 'bout deh rush o' combat. Cowads
sit'n wait fuh deh enemy. Deh courageous find deh heathens wur dey hide 'n'
shove an axe in dey guts!"
"You speak a lot about courage and the courageous, good Gromkonk. Yet here
you sit miles from danger in the Whistlewind nursing a tankard. Like kind
Modgun asked earlier, what do you know about fighting? What do you know about
courage?"
"Ah know dat faeries fight while standin' on dey toes yeh slap-fightin' dryad
turd. Ah knowin' dat nothin' solved by waitin'. Ah know dat a real kin o' deh
stout will mine deh arse o' a dragon if 'e' t'inks dur's a heathen inside. Ah
know dat ah fargin' believe in deh righteous t'ings 'n' dat ah'll kill deh
heathenous t'ings, spillin' blood like a point-ear spills 'is ale afta a single
swig. Yeh's fight tuh win 'n' yehs fight wif courage or yehs might as well bake
pies. Ah'll fargin' cleanse dis world o' deh taint 'n' make sure muh boys grows
up in a pure land o' peaceful drunken bliss if it bein' deh last fargin' hair on
muh beard.
"Combat? Courage? Pure? My my. That sounds like the way of the Spirit of the
Jaguar. I hear she is one of us pointy-eared, floppy-wristed, daisy-dancers. How
wonderfully ironic."
"Fargin' point-ears. Ah'm flamin' finish'd flappin' muh lips wif yehs bastids. It
bein' time tuh gets out dur and whips arse."
A Letter Home
Added Thu Apr 12 18:55:12 2007 at level 37:
Dear Ma and Pa,
I have asked this flaming point-ear (Transcriptionist's Note: My name is
Winokrisc, elven bard of little renown) to take down my words since I never
learned to write. If the floppy-wristed, twinkle-toed, pointy-eared, daisy-
sniffer writes something that you believe I am unlikely to have said let me
know and I will be sure that the situation is taken care of (Transcriptionist's
Note: Given that your son is a Maran, I'm sure I have little to fear). It has
been a long time since I last contacted you and for that I am sorry. The war
rages on and the stench breeds like rabbits in a cabbage patch. I have been
honored by the point-eared Jaguar Lady Goddess Baerinika (Transcriptionist's
Note: Blessed be her name) and have risen quickly to full Maran status. I have
hurled many a rotting carcass upon the stench-pile and I am hopeful that my
combat prowess brings the war nearer its resolution. How great it will be when
I no longer have to stick an axe in the guts of the foul and can instead focus
upon keeping my tolerance for ale up (Transcriptionist's Note: Most unfortunate
that that is how your son would choose to spend his time in a peaceful world). I
am not sure, but it definitely seems like this point-eared, wine-sipper is being
foolish and writing more than I am saying (Transcriptionist's Note: Can't get
anything by this one). Anyways...I miss spending all of my time in Akan, but far
too many have embraced a defensive posture. It is being the time to start rousing
the troops into a fighting stance and I shall do so by taking the word of the
Jaguar Lady Goddess to the masses (Transcriptionist's Note: Have you heard this
dwarf speak? I pray that the gods bless me with the luck to be present for his
sermons. I am a great lover of comedy). May her teachings bring the blades of the
courageous to bear upon the filthy hides of the stench.
Your proud son,
Gromkonk