Grommak the Legend of the Battlefield, Magistrate of Galadon

Role

Chapter 4

Grommak had known great misery before, and so while he felt his entire world
ripped away he hoped at least that justice would come to the betrayers from
the Captains among the guard who almost certainly understood what had
happened. It did not come, in fact nothing happened and almost no one seemed
to even care that Segivax was no more. Grommak felt anger like he hadn't ever
felt in his life, boiling him from the inside.


Rather than give in to vengeance, something Segivax had always vehemently
warned against, Grommak chose to move on. With nowhere to stay and no means
of income, he pledged himself to the Warriors Guild of Seantryn Modan and
reserved his retribution that he might some day visit proper justice to those
who had betrayed his surrogate father.

Role

Chapter 3

The minotaur from the alley was named Segivax, he was leader of one dockside
patrols for the Seantryn Modan guard. He was strong and firm, but also kind
and benevolent. Unlike most others of his race he wasn't taken to cruelty and
had a deep sense of honor and pride. Yet he also seemed to struggle with
shame at what he was, an unnatural union of malice and depravity. From the
day that he had rescued Grommak from the dockside warehouse of a slaver's
guild, he had raised the young bull as his own.


Segivax tried against all of the odds stacked against him in the city to
clean it up as much as he could, and do right by the citizens of Seantryn so
far as the law allowed. It was a struggle each day, and trying to raise a
stunted young minotaur who was slow minded on his better days only added to
that. Segivax did that and more with no complaints. He was a patient
minotaur, smarter than most, and saw that while Grommak was not quick of wit,
his circumstances growing up had gave him a sober wisdom when looking at the
world and it's people.


While Segivax spoke common surprisingly well (for a minotaur), Grommak did
not. His speech was always halted and lacked proper structure, but he seemed
to understand well enough. Such was also the case with his writing. He seemed
to understand well enough to read, but his written word mimicked the choppy,
slow structure of his speech.


Segivax also taught Grommak his own martial style, at times measured and
calculated, at others savage and brutal. Such was the way of combat, Segivax
instructed, and to take for granted the real danger of it was to make a fatal
error that didn't bear repeating.


Life was good and eager young Grommak had never been happier. It was a
staggering blow, then, when the familiar despair of helplessness came back to
him one day. The honorable Segivax had reported misconduct amongst other
guards, and while they had been punished they had not been expelled. They
wasted no time in creating an opportunity to betray the benevolent bull to a
wicked group of minotaur thugs that had always had it out for him.

Role

Chapter 2

As it came closer, Grommak saw that it was a massive bull, like him, adorned
in polished armor, now spattered with warm blood, some of it still steaming
wispy tendrils into the chill breeze. It stopped before his pen. He saw the
strong arms flex and draw the polearm horizontally, leaning back for a
powerful swing. Grommak was dim, even for a minotaur, but even he could see
the end was coming.


He was ready, his miserable existence had conditioned him against hope and he
had none now.


With a grunt the adult minotaur set the weapon into motion. Grommak heard a
great screeching as the blade smashed into the bars of the pen, the blow of
the swing nearly upending the enclosure. More screeching. Grommak watched
with a dull gaze as the blade shore through the bars and toward him, and then
right overtop, the roof of the pen ripping away violently as the cleave
ended.


A clattering of the polearm sounded as it hit the cobblestone. Grommak, too
weak to move, watched on as two massive arms reached into the pen and scooped
up his little form, clutching the child to it's chest. Grommak remembered
feeling the heat of a furnace radiating off of the big bull, who was still
breathing heavily from the fight. For the first time that he had known it,
Grommak felt secure.

Role

Chapter 1

The whistle of a frigid wind passing through the rusting wrought iron bars of
a stock pen, carrying with it flakes of snow that bounced off his head,
stinging the tender skin of his then little face. That was Grommak's first
memory. There were others of course, from when he was quite small, but he
either could not or would not remember them. It was of little consequence,
for this first memory was when Grommak was really born.


His skin was not tough yet, and so the chill of the wind had cooled it to the
point that it was sore and red, and starting to become puffy. The pen was
outside, and the morning light of the day did little to stave off the cold.


Grommak sniffed around the door of the pen for feed, none had come the
evening before, but all his nose smelled was the soiled straw that sparsely
covered the bottom of the filthy enclosure. His stomach protested it's lack
of contents with a growl, and so Grommak pushed a handful of the dirty straw
from the floor into his mouth. This seemed to confuse his stomach, welcome
for the company but now entitled to a new type of protest. His belly roiled,
but the new fare wasn't much worse than the feed he had been getting, so he
curled up on the floor in hopes of some meager comfort.


A sudden eruption of noise roused him from a fitful slumber; metal on metal,
labored breathing and shouting, the scrape of heavy boots sliding on stone.
His pen was in the corner of a dingy warehouse yard on the docks of Seantryn
Modan, the clamour had come from up the alley and around the side of the
warehouse.


Grommak squinted against the wind, blinking away the tears formed from the
cold gust. Several figures spilled into sight up the alley. Grommak thought
he recognized the shapes of some of his handlers, they fought a massive
figure flanked by two other armored fighters that seemed allied with the big
one. Wielding a long staff with a large blade affixed to the end, the
gargantuan figure quickly dispatched those who stood before it. It turned
back to it's allies a moment before plodding down the alley toward his pen.

PK Gank-O-Meter

PK Statistics

Skill List

Skill List

Arena Statistics

PK Wins

PK Deaths

Leveling History

Timeline

Mob Deaths

Edges

Flaws

Racial Edges

Class Edges

Edges