Gruular Gransmag
Posted: Sun Jan 05, 2014 1:54 pm
Name: Gruular Gransmag
Age: 24
Race: Half-Minotaur/Half-Human
Physical Description: Gruular stands at a powerful eight seven feet, nine inches. He has broad shoulders, a barrel chest, and an unnaturally thick neck. His jaw protrudes noticeably from under a dark hood, which also serves to hide his filed down horns. Muscular, thick arms stretch down almost to his knees, which bend backwards, clearly misshapen. Heavy iron boots crash heavily on the ground with every step, masking the sound of his hooves.
Possessions:
One large backpack
Three days rations
One weeks water + water skin
Half skin of wine
Bedroll
A dark red cloak with hood
A thick, battered leather apron
One linen shirt + 2 extra
Heavy iron boots
Large Sledgehammer
Whet Stone
Powers or Strengths:
Superhuman Strength- Gruular has extraordinary strength compared to a common human.
Thick Skin- Gruular has very thick skin, and as such is more immune to the cold, and most minor injuries.
Weaknesses and Flaws:
Shy- Gruular has been judged and mistreated by most people in his lifetime. As such he tends to shy away from most people.
Anger Management- Due to his father's genetics, Gruular may loose control, becoming enraged and violent, if antagonized or provoked.
History: Gruular was born to a single mother in a cottage settled in far North Ayana. His mother ran a farm on her own, however every year was hard for the small family, as little would grow, and the nearby villages refused to aid them. Gruular grew quickly, reaching puberty at the age of eight. His mother was a very independant woman, and taught him many things about living off the land, and self-reliance. Gruular learned quickly though that his thick fingers, and huge stature, prevented him from being much help in the fields, or out hunting with his mother. Instead he smithed, plowed, and fell trees for her. It was a simple life, but Gruular knew the love of his mother, and they were happy.
One warm summer night, Gruular was awoken to the sound of banging, and the roar of a crowd from outside. He grabbed the massive smithing sledge he had forged for himself, lifting it easily to his chest. As he crept from his room slowly he noticed the cabin was ransacked. Furniture was toppled, logs from the fireplace lay scattered and smoldering. Suddenly a loud scream cut the night, and was followed by another roar of people. Gruular charged towards the door, splintering it instantly. The smell of burning wood filled his nose. A bright, blazing sun blinded him. After what seemed like an eternity, his eyes adjusted to the light. The smell of burning wood twisted, into a foul odor. Before him he witnessed his mother, burning alive at the hands of a mob. "Bull Whore" was written on a sign, staked to her chest.
Gruular awoke the next day in the middle of rubble. He had no recollection of the night before. He tried to sit up, but instantly fell back to the ground, pain shooting through his body. He looked down. A large gash cut from his fourth rib, almost to his pelvis. And one through his bicep. And another along his calf. He was covered in wounds of every type. His mind reeled in confusion and pain, before everything went to blackness.
He had no idea how long he had laid there. All he could think of was water. He felt as if he had never felt water pass his lips. Crawling through dirt and broken stone, Gruular discovered a small puddle, quickly drinking as much as he could. He felt life rush through his veins. He slowly forced himself to stand, grimacing with each movement. As he braced himself on the pile of crumbled stone, he realized where he was. A nearby village, not far from his home. But this time it was in ruins. Small fires still burned here and there. Bashed in doors and crumbled walls. His confusion was cut sharply, as he noticed the twisted, burnt form of a man in the street. Gruular turned to vomit, only to be greeted by the sight of a dozen more butchered corpses. Men, women, children. Standing stall against the smoke, and carnage, was his sledge.
Gruular has since spent the past fourteen years traveling the wilds, before finally making his way into Eyropa.
Age: 24
Race: Half-Minotaur/Half-Human
Physical Description: Gruular stands at a powerful eight seven feet, nine inches. He has broad shoulders, a barrel chest, and an unnaturally thick neck. His jaw protrudes noticeably from under a dark hood, which also serves to hide his filed down horns. Muscular, thick arms stretch down almost to his knees, which bend backwards, clearly misshapen. Heavy iron boots crash heavily on the ground with every step, masking the sound of his hooves.
Possessions:
One large backpack
Three days rations
One weeks water + water skin
Half skin of wine
Bedroll
A dark red cloak with hood
A thick, battered leather apron
One linen shirt + 2 extra
Heavy iron boots
Large Sledgehammer
Whet Stone
Powers or Strengths:
Superhuman Strength- Gruular has extraordinary strength compared to a common human.
Thick Skin- Gruular has very thick skin, and as such is more immune to the cold, and most minor injuries.
Weaknesses and Flaws:
Shy- Gruular has been judged and mistreated by most people in his lifetime. As such he tends to shy away from most people.
Anger Management- Due to his father's genetics, Gruular may loose control, becoming enraged and violent, if antagonized or provoked.
History: Gruular was born to a single mother in a cottage settled in far North Ayana. His mother ran a farm on her own, however every year was hard for the small family, as little would grow, and the nearby villages refused to aid them. Gruular grew quickly, reaching puberty at the age of eight. His mother was a very independant woman, and taught him many things about living off the land, and self-reliance. Gruular learned quickly though that his thick fingers, and huge stature, prevented him from being much help in the fields, or out hunting with his mother. Instead he smithed, plowed, and fell trees for her. It was a simple life, but Gruular knew the love of his mother, and they were happy.
One warm summer night, Gruular was awoken to the sound of banging, and the roar of a crowd from outside. He grabbed the massive smithing sledge he had forged for himself, lifting it easily to his chest. As he crept from his room slowly he noticed the cabin was ransacked. Furniture was toppled, logs from the fireplace lay scattered and smoldering. Suddenly a loud scream cut the night, and was followed by another roar of people. Gruular charged towards the door, splintering it instantly. The smell of burning wood filled his nose. A bright, blazing sun blinded him. After what seemed like an eternity, his eyes adjusted to the light. The smell of burning wood twisted, into a foul odor. Before him he witnessed his mother, burning alive at the hands of a mob. "Bull Whore" was written on a sign, staked to her chest.
Gruular awoke the next day in the middle of rubble. He had no recollection of the night before. He tried to sit up, but instantly fell back to the ground, pain shooting through his body. He looked down. A large gash cut from his fourth rib, almost to his pelvis. And one through his bicep. And another along his calf. He was covered in wounds of every type. His mind reeled in confusion and pain, before everything went to blackness.
He had no idea how long he had laid there. All he could think of was water. He felt as if he had never felt water pass his lips. Crawling through dirt and broken stone, Gruular discovered a small puddle, quickly drinking as much as he could. He felt life rush through his veins. He slowly forced himself to stand, grimacing with each movement. As he braced himself on the pile of crumbled stone, he realized where he was. A nearby village, not far from his home. But this time it was in ruins. Small fires still burned here and there. Bashed in doors and crumbled walls. His confusion was cut sharply, as he noticed the twisted, burnt form of a man in the street. Gruular turned to vomit, only to be greeted by the sight of a dozen more butchered corpses. Men, women, children. Standing stall against the smoke, and carnage, was his sledge.
Gruular has since spent the past fourteen years traveling the wilds, before finally making his way into Eyropa.