Eberron - Crypt of Crimson Stars GAME APPEARS DEAD
Sithek
[sblock]
Boar (medium animal)
HD: 48 (5d8+18)
Init: +0
Spd: 40' (8 squares)
AC: 18 (+8 natural), touch 12, flat-footed 18
BAB/Grapple: +2/+5
Attack: Gore +5 melee (1d8+4)
Full Attack: Gore +5 melee (1d8+4)
Space/Reach: 5'/5'
Special Attacks: ferocity (fight without penalty when disabled or dying)
Special Qualities: Low-Light Vision, Scent, Link, Share Spell, Evasion
Saves: Fort +6, Ref +3, Will +2
Abilities: Str 16, Dex 11, Con 17, Int 2, Wis 13, Cha 4
Skills: Listen +7, Spot +5
Feats: Alertness, Toughness
Tricks: Track; Stay
Sithek is a large female boar which sometimes has a rather nasty disposition. She has been known to 'affectionatly' smack at Grilok with her tusks when hungry, riled, or just plain upset. She and Grolik are close friends though. She wears a leather belt strapped around her waist, a saddle bag dangles on either side tied loosely to the belt. Her tusks are long and sharp, her fur is white with russet patches and she has deep blue intelligent eyes.
[/sblock]
Appearance: Grilok is tall for a half orc, even accounting for his slightly stooped stature. This is because his arms and legs are longer and more flexible than the average half orc. He only has his right eye, his left is just a scarred pit. Large curved tusks jut out from his strong jaw and smaller teeth rise unevenly from his black gums. The teeth and tusks have all been pain-stakingly engraved with eldritch patterns and runes. His wide nostrils are flared and pierced with crystal spindles of various hues. His wide, pointed ears have been pierced with wooden plugs. His face is painted with dark shades of ink giving it a leering almost alien cast.
The horrid boar skull that sits lightly a top his head, protecting his skull and neck from serious attack, accentuates his height. A long cape made of the skin of some bizarre creature (probably from the same creature who's skull protects his head), both furred and scaled, is settled upon his broad shoulders.
He wears armour made of leather and stained a deep green. The leather has been carved with magical symbols and eldritch runes and is covered in tiny studs. Patched leather breeches cover his legs and high heavy leather boots protect his feet. A potion belt makes sure that his breeches remain up and his potions close at hand.
A wickedly curved purple hued scimitar hangs from his belt and he grips a long spear with a very sharp, painful looking point. He wears magical rings on the thumb of each hand and an amulet of scale and feathers hangs around his throat, dangling next to the crystal capped necklace that he uses as a focus for his magic.
Background: [sblock]Grilok Hookfang strode purposely through the sloppy, smelly streets of the Mud Caves. His long legs and steady stride bearing him resolutely towards his goal, the dirty hole in the wall that he and Sithek called home. A palpable sense of anger hung heavy in the air around him causing the human scum of the dirty seaside district to scamper quickly out of his way.
His heavy boots sloshed through what passed for muddy streets in the dung heap that sprawled haphazardly at the foot of the City of Towers. The heavy tread of the sturdy leather boots, like the hem of his mottled fur and scale cloak, were caked with the smelly, black, oily mud of the lower ward. The mud seemed to collect all the vileness of the upper city and deposit it in stinking puddles in the slums far below, before sucking at the spirit (and the feet Grilok thought miserably) of the souls that had the misfortune to live in the stinking rat infested midden heap.
The harsh, dirty environment that he had chosen as his ‘lair’ since being exiled by the Ghaash’kala reminded him of his homeland somewhat but it didn’t improve his mood at all. At least the heavy skull of the horrid boar that was nestled snugly upon his head kept most of the rain from his remaining good eye, and had the added bonus of keeping his face paint from running.
A street urchin, bolder or hungrier than the others, darted forward and slid to a halt in front of the towering brute causing him to stutter to a halt mid-stride. The child’s eyes looked up pleadingly, his lips quavered and he stammered as he blinked fat oily raindrops from his eyes.
“P-p-p-lease s-s-s-s-sir, spare a c-c-c-coin for some food?”
“Be gone man-cub”, grumbled Grilok in his deep throated brogue. “It grows dark and these streets too often claim the life of the young and weak…”
Suddenly the child grabbed at the bone and volcanic glass talisman that hung heavily from a colourfully beaded leather throng braided and looped around Grilok’s neck. With reflexes honed through long hours working the Labyrinth of the Demon Wastes, Grilok’s hairy, black nailed hand flew to the ivory hilt of the heavily battle nicked scimitar that hung familiarly at his side. The curved blade slashed through the air like a serpent of steel striking the child’s head a meaty blow. The child slumped heavily and immediately to the ground.
“…and foolish!” Grilok finished.
Grilok’s single eye stared unblinking at the small bundle that lay at his feet. He checked his scimitar for blood, and seeing none, quickly sheathed it in its snakeskin home. Mud splattered over the dirty, threadbare cloak that covered the small boy as Grilok’s heavily booted feet stepped over the young would be thief. He stopped, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips and turned his head back to regard the unmoving heap.
“Hunger drives the weak to acts of desperation when a toothless cub would risk the wroth of the caged boar.” He grumbled. ” Hunger is not a weakness, and the cub did show courage, if foolishly, indeed he may yet have some role to play in the events that unfold. And possibly may even be of some use to me.”
Grilok quickly scanned the lawless slums that surrounded him. Sensing no other immediate threats he smoothly knelt down beside the body. His hands closed around the heavy amulet that had so recently been the target of theft. He pulled the leather throng over his head, muttering angrily to himself as it momentarily snagged on one of the broken teeth of his snarling boar headpiece, and waved it in intricate patterns over the child’s inert form. His breathing quickened and he softly chanted guttural, ancient words of power. A soft blue light lit the child’s face bringing into stark relief the tightly stretched skin that covered the lump that had risen where the flat of Grilok’s blade had connected.
The child’s eyes slowly opened and for the first time he stared fully into Grilok’s face. Seeing the single blood-shot, cat-slit eye and the ragged empty socket that once housed its twin up close had an immediate affect on the whelp. He let out a startled scream and tried to scrabble crab-like backwards through the black muddy slime, only succeeding in splashing smelly muck all over the front of Grilok’s leather breast plate, bringing an even deeper scowl to Grilok’s ink-stained face.
“Be quiet and still man cub or I’ll deliver another blow to that bone head of yours and maybe silence you for good!”
Grilok quickly stood up and brushed the sticky mess from his chest.
“On this day you have been very lucky young buck.” Grilok growled, his deep bass voice having an immediate calming affect on the child. Flicking the putrid black mess from his fingers he reached down to help the child up from the muddy street. His mouth broke into what he hoped was a reassuring smile but, in truth, the heavily carved teeth, hooked tusks and black gums had the opposite affect and only increased the waif’s anxiety.
Rolling his eye and clamping his mouth shut Grilok dug into the small cloth sack that dangled loosely from the braided hemp rope that he used as a belt. His thick stubby fingers closed around a cold, greasy garlic and mutton sausage that he had saved from his lunch. He pulled it from the sack and offered it to the thin wastrel that stood forlornly before him. The food reminded him that Sithek would be worried, hungry and impatient (and not necessarily in that order) and that a worried, hungry and impatient Sithek wasn’t likely to be a good thing for he or his neighbours.
“Come boy take the food and get to your shelter, I have not the time to waste standing here trying to convince you I mean no harm.”
The boy snatched the sausage and ran, his little legs pumping in the thick slurping mud. Grilok watched the boy bolt around the corner and then he turned his steps back towards his home.
\mo0om/
It had been another frustrating day of dead ends and red herrings and Grilok was no closer to clearing his name. It angered and frustrated him to be stuck in Sharn but this is where his exile had led him. The people of these soft southern cities believed that the war had ended but the Ghaash’kala knew that it went on, and would likely never end. Everyday the Ghaash’kala fought against the tide of darkness that threatened the whole of Khorvaire. Everyday the Clan that protected the borders of the Demon Wastes held at bay horrors that these soft southerners could only dream of. And everyday that Grilok was exiled was another day where he let his brothers die defending the weak and believing that he was a murderous coward.
Two hard years it had been since his humiliation, a humiliation that had cost him his life and left him feeling hollow and dirty. It had almost broken him. He had been spiralling out of control, giving into his anger and drinking heavily. Beaten, broken and bruised he had limped from the Labyrinth and straight into a self-induced hell. If not for the selfless sacrifice of Sithek then he would still be wallowing in self-pity. In fact, truth-be-told, he probably would have given his beliefs away and become one of life’s wasted chances.
But Sithek had saved him. She had bought him back from the brink of insanity, and had woken him to his purpose, had given his anger a focus. He now had drive, although the endless frustrations in his investigation were starting to wear awfully thin. It might be that he needed to look at enlisting aid, a concept that was fairly alien to him since his separation from the Clan. He didn’t think of Sithek as aid. Sithek was family, an extension of himself.
Admittedly, he didn’t know much about who may have framed him for the murder of the visiting Silver Flame priests. They had said that they were hunting a thief who had stolen an artefact of great importance to their church. He had been asked to escort them to Ghaash Dar so that they could plead their case before the Ghaash’kala elders.
On the second evening of their journey though tragedy struck. The guards that accompanied the expedition had been out scouting the area immediately around the site the group had chosen to rest in. Grilok began setting up the camp while the priests dismounted, dusted off their prayer mats and knelt to begin their evening prayers. That was when all hell broke loose, or so Grilok had been told. He could recall nothing of how the priests had died or why he had been spared. Grilok had been discovered standing covered in blood in the middle of the circle of dead priests. All he could recall was the smell of cinnamon and the name ‘Belkorr’ screamed into the night.
The Silver Flame hierarchy demanded restitution and the Ghaash’kala delivered it in the form of a branding, the loss of an eye and exile. Grilok was branded on each palm with the broken circle that identified him as a coward. His left eye was ruined with a sharpened stick, eventually, after infection had set in, Grilok removed the pulped mess that remained. And, what hurt worst of all, he was exiled from his home and divorced from his purpose.
\mo0om/
Since being in Sharn Grilok has been able to follow several leads regarding the mysterious Belkor, they'd all ended in dead ends. He just wasn't cut out for investigative work. His means were those of the wild, he was more straightforward, more direct. And this Belkor was elusive, and powerful, everywhere Grilok turned there was another red herring. Sure as it would rain tomorrow, Belkor knew Grilok was in Sharn. He knew and he revelled in that knowledge. He toyed with Grilok and there was nothing the half orc could do about it.
It'd been three years now since Grilok's shame, three long hard, lonely years. If not for Sithek he would have gone insane, and he wasn't sure if he might not have 'lost-it-a-little'. It became obvious to Grilok early in his time in Sharn that he didn't fit. Well it wasn't so much he didn't, but his beliefs didn't. He didn't feel right in the city, he didn't feel as attuned to his power, but he did what he could and regularly sought out the gardens and parks of Sharn’s higher levels. It was hard being in Sharn and he had to adapt or die.
Grilok managed to find a job as a labourer for the Cannith family in Ashblack . He carried raw ore for the family, ore to fragile to be trusted to the constructs that normally carried out the heavy-duty work. During the day he would work the Cannith foundries, growing in strength, using his determination to regain his stolen heritage, to drive him on, to help him through the hard days. At night he would pursue whatever leads he could find.
It was almost two years before Grilok had saved enough money to move out of the Mud Caves. Two years of lugging ore and fighting with the riff raff that occupied the shantytowns that sprawled at the base of the City of Towers. But eventually he was able to save enough money to relocate from the Mud Caves to Deathsgate. A place of opportunity, a place where he would find it easier to get aid in his quest; and a place where he could use his new found strength and fighting ability to keep him and Sithek dry and fed.
Grilok has recently been hiring on for odd jobs for various mages in Everbright. He figures that the best way to get information on a magic user is to work for one. He has started to build quite a reputation as a collector of spell components. He is enjoying this work much more than the work for the Cannith's. This work gives him the opportunity to get out of the city on occasion, and allows Sithek to run loose for a time. Grilok has become so successful at acquiring difficult to come by components that he is starting to receive referrals and is in constant demand by the arcanes of Everbright.
\mo0om/
Grilok was part of a different branch of the Gatekeepers. The Keepers left the Eldeen Reaches and the Shadow Marches long ago and had to quickly learn to adapt to the new frontier that was the Demon Wastes. They consider the original Gatekeeper sects to be a little soft, if they were true to their beliefs they’d be in the front lines defeating the evils that dwell in the Demon Wastes.
Grilok was taken in and trained at an early age by the Abolishers, a secret group of aberration hunters that operated from within the Demon Waste Gatekeepers. These druids teach that to know ones enemy one must become the enemy, and the Abolishers of the Demon Wastes do just that. In bizarre, arcane rituals not understood by those who aren’t in the highest echelons of the cult, new entrants to the sect are initiated into this ancient cult. These initiations instil some aspect of an aberrant in to the very being of the initiate. Grilok did not finish his training and has not reached his full potential as an Abolisher.
The Abolishers of the Demon Wastes are mysterious and secretive and have many subtle plans in motion. For all Grilok knows (and this is a thought he holds on to with both hands) his whole exile might be part of some greater plan of the Abolishers. [/sblock]
Code:
[B]Name:[/B] Grilok Hookfang
[B]Class:[/B] Druid 7
[B]Race:[/B] Half Orc
[B]Size:[/B] M
[B]Gender:[/B] Male
[B]Alignment:[/B] Lawful Neutral
[B]Deity:[/B] Balinor
[B]Action Dice:[/B] 8 (d6)
[B]Str:[/B] 15 +2 (05p.) [B]Level:[/B] 7 [B]XP:[/B] 24,500
[B]Dex:[/B] 14 +2 (06p.) [B]BAB:[/B] +5 [B]HP:[/B] 58 (8+36+14)
[B]Con:[/B] 14 +2 (06p.) [B]Grapple:[/B] +9 [B]Dmg Red:[/B] N/A
[B]Int:[/B] 10 +0 (04p.) [B]Speed:[/B] 30' [B]Spell Res:[/B] N/A
[B]Wis:[/B] 18 +4 (13p.) [B]Init:[/B] +0 [B]Spell Save:[/B] N/A
[B]Cha:[/B] 06 -2 (00p.) [B]ACP:[/B] 0 [B]Spell Fail:[/B] N/A
level: +1 Wis 4th; racial: +2 Str, -2 Int, -2 Chr
[B]Base Armour Shld Dex Size Nat Misc Total[/B]
[B]Armour:[/B] Stud Leather 10 +5 +0 +2 +0 +1 +1 19
[B]Touch:[/B] 13 [B]Flatfooted:[/B] 17
[B]Base Mod Misc Total[/B]
[B]Fort:[/B] 5 +2 +0 +7
[B]Ref:[/B] 2 +2 +0 +7
[B]Will:[/B] 5 +4 +0 +9
+4 versus fey spell-like abilities
+2 versus aberrations supernatural and spell-like abilities
[B]Weapon Attack Damage Critical[/B]
Scimitar +8 1d6+2 18-20x2
- +9 vs aberrations; +2d6 damage
Spear, long +8 1d8+2 x3 (20’)
- returning
Dagger +7 1d4+2 19-20x2 (10’)
[B]Languages:[/B] Orc, Common, Druidic
[B]Abilities:[/B]
[I]Racial[/I]
* 60' Darkvision
* Orc blood
[I]Class[/I]
* Weapon and Armour Proficiency: club; dagger; dart; quarter-staff; scimitar; sickle; short spear; sling; spear; and, natural attacks when wild shaping. Can use light and medium non-metal armour and non-metal shields.
* Spells: Divine; (see below)
* Chaotic, Evil, Good and Lawful spells: Can't cast spells with the chaotic; evil; or, good descriptors
* Spontaneous Casting, swap any spell for a summon nature's ally spell of an equal level.
* Animal Companion:
* Nature Sense: +2 Knowledge (Nature) and Survival
* Wild Empathy: Improve the attitude of an animal as Diplomacy (including magical animals with less than 2 Int at -4) d20 + level - Chr -4 (aberrant feats)
* Woodland Stride: Move through natural undergrowth with no ill effects or decrease in speed
* Trackless Step: Leave no tracks in natural surroundings (unless he wants to); can't be tracked
* Resist nature's Lure: +4 bonus to saves versus fey spell-like abilities
* Wild Shape (3/day): Assume the shape of a small or medium animal as polymorph spell (favoured shapes: Black Bear; Boar; Cheetah; Crocodile; Constrictor Snake; Wolf; Wolverine; Desmodu Bat - hunting (mm2))
[B]Feats:[/B]
Aberration Blood (LoM): Flexible Limbs (+2 Grapple)
Gatekeeper Initiate (ECS): +2 saves versus aberrations; Knowledge (Planes) class skill (can be used instead of Knowledge (Dungeoneering to identify aberrations); additional spells to spell list
*1st: protection from evil
*2nd: zone of natural purity (ECS)
*3rd: dimensional anchor
*4th: nature's wrath (ECS)
*5th: banishment
*6th: dimensional lock
*7th: return to nature (ECS)
*8th: mind blank
*9th: imprisonment
Aberration Wild Shape (LoM): Can assume the form of aberrations with the same restrictions as wild shape ability (favoured shapes: Ettercarp (MM); Gauth (MM); Grell (MM2); Runehound (MM3))
[B]Skill Points:[/B] 40 [B]Max Ranks:[/B] 10/5
[B]Skills Ranks Mod Misc Total[/B]
Concentration (Con) 5 +2 +7
Diplomacy (Cha) 0 -2 -2 -4
Disguise (Cha) 0 -2 -2 -4
Handle Animal (Cha) 3 -2 -2 -1
Heal (Wis) 3 +4 +7
Gather Information (Cha) 0 -2 -2 -4
Knowledge (Nature) (Int) 7 0 +2 +9
Knowledge (Planes) (Int) 7 0 +7
Profession (labourer) (Wis) 1 +4 +5
Listen (Wis) 1 +4 +5
Ride (Dex) 2 +2 +4
Spellcraft (Int) 3 0 +3
Spot (Wis) 3 +4 +7
Survival (Wis) 3 +4 +2 +9
Swim (Str) 2 +2 +4
-2 Diplomacy; Disguise; Gather Information; Handle Animal and Wild Empathy checks from Aberrant Feats
+2 Knowledge (nature) and Survival from Nature Sense
[B]Equipment: Cost Weight[/B]
Scimitar 3815gp 04lb
- Aberration Bane (+1)(DMG)
- Byeshk (ECS)
o +1 hit masterwork
o +2 vs aberrations +2d6 damage
Spear
- Returning (+1) (DMG) 3805gp 09lb
- Byeshk (ECS)
o +1 hit masterwork
o returns to throwing spot at
start of next round
+2 Studded Leather Armour 4175gp 15lb
Dagger 2gp 01lb
Ring Protection +1 2000gp (-)
Ring Sustenance 2500gp (-)
- don’t need to eat or drink, only needs 2 hours rest
Amulet of Natural Armour +1 2000gp (-)
Potion Cure Light Wounds 50gp (-)
Potion Jump 50gp (-)
Potion Shield of Faith +2 50gp (-)
Potion Eagles Splendour 300gp (-)
Backpack 2gp 2lb
Bedroll 1sp 5lb
Winter Blanket 5sp 3lb
Scroll Case 1gp 1/2lb
5 Fishhooks 5sp (-)
Fishing Line 1sp (-)
2 Pints Oil 2sp 2lb
Signal Whistle 8sp (-)
Flint and Steel 1gp (-)
Whetstone 2cp 1lb
2 Flasks Acid 20gp 2lb
2 Flasks Alchemist Fire 40gp 2lb
2 Vials Antitoxin 100gp (-)
Holly and Mistletoe (-)
Spell Component Pouch 5gp 2lb (A&EG)
Healer’s Kit 50gp 1lb (in leather satchel) (A&EG) - 10 uses (+2 heal checks)
Collapsible Grappling Hook 3gp 2lb (A&EG)
Potion Belt 1gp 1lb (FRCS)
[B]Total Weight:[/B] 52.5lb [B]Money:[/B] 27 gp 9 sp 8 cp
[B]Lgt Med Hvy Lift Push[/B]
[B]Max Weight:[/B] 66 133 200 400 1000
[B]Spells Known:[/B] 6x0; 5x1; 4x2; 3x3; 2x4
[B]Spells Prepared:[/B]
[U]Orisons DC: 14[/U]
Detect Magic
Flare
Light
Resistance x2
Read Magic
[U]1st DC:15[/U]
Detect Aberration (ECS)
Entangle
Longstrider
Magic Fang
Produce Flame
[U]2nd DC: 16[/U]
Barkskin
Bull’s Strength
Owl’s Wisdom
Briar Web (CDiv)
[U]3rd DC:17[/U]
Cure Moderate Wounds x2
Infestation of Maggots (CDiv)
[U]4th DC:18[/U]
Flame Strike
Rusting Grasp
[B]Age:[/B] 25
[B]Height:[/B] 6'4"
[B]Weight:[/B] 225lb
[B]Eye:[/B] Red
[B]Hair:[/B] Black coarse and long
[B]Skin:[/B] swarthy olive complexionSithek
[sblock]
Boar (medium animal)
HD: 48 (5d8+18)
Init: +0
Spd: 40' (8 squares)
AC: 18 (+8 natural), touch 12, flat-footed 18
BAB/Grapple: +2/+5
Attack: Gore +5 melee (1d8+4)
Full Attack: Gore +5 melee (1d8+4)
Space/Reach: 5'/5'
Special Attacks: ferocity (fight without penalty when disabled or dying)
Special Qualities: Low-Light Vision, Scent, Link, Share Spell, Evasion
Saves: Fort +6, Ref +3, Will +2
Abilities: Str 16, Dex 11, Con 17, Int 2, Wis 13, Cha 4
Skills: Listen +7, Spot +5
Feats: Alertness, Toughness
Tricks: Track; Stay
Sithek is a large female boar which sometimes has a rather nasty disposition. She has been known to 'affectionatly' smack at Grilok with her tusks when hungry, riled, or just plain upset. She and Grolik are close friends though. She wears a leather belt strapped around her waist, a saddle bag dangles on either side tied loosely to the belt. Her tusks are long and sharp, her fur is white with russet patches and she has deep blue intelligent eyes.
[/sblock]
Appearance: Grilok is tall for a half orc, even accounting for his slightly stooped stature. This is because his arms and legs are longer and more flexible than the average half orc. He only has his right eye, his left is just a scarred pit. Large curved tusks jut out from his strong jaw and smaller teeth rise unevenly from his black gums. The teeth and tusks have all been pain-stakingly engraved with eldritch patterns and runes. His wide nostrils are flared and pierced with crystal spindles of various hues. His wide, pointed ears have been pierced with wooden plugs. His face is painted with dark shades of ink giving it a leering almost alien cast.
The horrid boar skull that sits lightly a top his head, protecting his skull and neck from serious attack, accentuates his height. A long cape made of the skin of some bizarre creature (probably from the same creature who's skull protects his head), both furred and scaled, is settled upon his broad shoulders.
He wears armour made of leather and stained a deep green. The leather has been carved with magical symbols and eldritch runes and is covered in tiny studs. Patched leather breeches cover his legs and high heavy leather boots protect his feet. A potion belt makes sure that his breeches remain up and his potions close at hand.
A wickedly curved purple hued scimitar hangs from his belt and he grips a long spear with a very sharp, painful looking point. He wears magical rings on the thumb of each hand and an amulet of scale and feathers hangs around his throat, dangling next to the crystal capped necklace that he uses as a focus for his magic.
Background: [sblock]Grilok Hookfang strode purposely through the sloppy, smelly streets of the Mud Caves. His long legs and steady stride bearing him resolutely towards his goal, the dirty hole in the wall that he and Sithek called home. A palpable sense of anger hung heavy in the air around him causing the human scum of the dirty seaside district to scamper quickly out of his way.
His heavy boots sloshed through what passed for muddy streets in the dung heap that sprawled haphazardly at the foot of the City of Towers. The heavy tread of the sturdy leather boots, like the hem of his mottled fur and scale cloak, were caked with the smelly, black, oily mud of the lower ward. The mud seemed to collect all the vileness of the upper city and deposit it in stinking puddles in the slums far below, before sucking at the spirit (and the feet Grilok thought miserably) of the souls that had the misfortune to live in the stinking rat infested midden heap.
The harsh, dirty environment that he had chosen as his ‘lair’ since being exiled by the Ghaash’kala reminded him of his homeland somewhat but it didn’t improve his mood at all. At least the heavy skull of the horrid boar that was nestled snugly upon his head kept most of the rain from his remaining good eye, and had the added bonus of keeping his face paint from running.
A street urchin, bolder or hungrier than the others, darted forward and slid to a halt in front of the towering brute causing him to stutter to a halt mid-stride. The child’s eyes looked up pleadingly, his lips quavered and he stammered as he blinked fat oily raindrops from his eyes.
“P-p-p-lease s-s-s-s-sir, spare a c-c-c-coin for some food?”
“Be gone man-cub”, grumbled Grilok in his deep throated brogue. “It grows dark and these streets too often claim the life of the young and weak…”
Suddenly the child grabbed at the bone and volcanic glass talisman that hung heavily from a colourfully beaded leather throng braided and looped around Grilok’s neck. With reflexes honed through long hours working the Labyrinth of the Demon Wastes, Grilok’s hairy, black nailed hand flew to the ivory hilt of the heavily battle nicked scimitar that hung familiarly at his side. The curved blade slashed through the air like a serpent of steel striking the child’s head a meaty blow. The child slumped heavily and immediately to the ground.
“…and foolish!” Grilok finished.
Grilok’s single eye stared unblinking at the small bundle that lay at his feet. He checked his scimitar for blood, and seeing none, quickly sheathed it in its snakeskin home. Mud splattered over the dirty, threadbare cloak that covered the small boy as Grilok’s heavily booted feet stepped over the young would be thief. He stopped, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips and turned his head back to regard the unmoving heap.
“Hunger drives the weak to acts of desperation when a toothless cub would risk the wroth of the caged boar.” He grumbled. ” Hunger is not a weakness, and the cub did show courage, if foolishly, indeed he may yet have some role to play in the events that unfold. And possibly may even be of some use to me.”
Grilok quickly scanned the lawless slums that surrounded him. Sensing no other immediate threats he smoothly knelt down beside the body. His hands closed around the heavy amulet that had so recently been the target of theft. He pulled the leather throng over his head, muttering angrily to himself as it momentarily snagged on one of the broken teeth of his snarling boar headpiece, and waved it in intricate patterns over the child’s inert form. His breathing quickened and he softly chanted guttural, ancient words of power. A soft blue light lit the child’s face bringing into stark relief the tightly stretched skin that covered the lump that had risen where the flat of Grilok’s blade had connected.
The child’s eyes slowly opened and for the first time he stared fully into Grilok’s face. Seeing the single blood-shot, cat-slit eye and the ragged empty socket that once housed its twin up close had an immediate affect on the whelp. He let out a startled scream and tried to scrabble crab-like backwards through the black muddy slime, only succeeding in splashing smelly muck all over the front of Grilok’s leather breast plate, bringing an even deeper scowl to Grilok’s ink-stained face.
“Be quiet and still man cub or I’ll deliver another blow to that bone head of yours and maybe silence you for good!”
Grilok quickly stood up and brushed the sticky mess from his chest.
“On this day you have been very lucky young buck.” Grilok growled, his deep bass voice having an immediate calming affect on the child. Flicking the putrid black mess from his fingers he reached down to help the child up from the muddy street. His mouth broke into what he hoped was a reassuring smile but, in truth, the heavily carved teeth, hooked tusks and black gums had the opposite affect and only increased the waif’s anxiety.
Rolling his eye and clamping his mouth shut Grilok dug into the small cloth sack that dangled loosely from the braided hemp rope that he used as a belt. His thick stubby fingers closed around a cold, greasy garlic and mutton sausage that he had saved from his lunch. He pulled it from the sack and offered it to the thin wastrel that stood forlornly before him. The food reminded him that Sithek would be worried, hungry and impatient (and not necessarily in that order) and that a worried, hungry and impatient Sithek wasn’t likely to be a good thing for he or his neighbours.
“Come boy take the food and get to your shelter, I have not the time to waste standing here trying to convince you I mean no harm.”
The boy snatched the sausage and ran, his little legs pumping in the thick slurping mud. Grilok watched the boy bolt around the corner and then he turned his steps back towards his home.
\mo0om/
It had been another frustrating day of dead ends and red herrings and Grilok was no closer to clearing his name. It angered and frustrated him to be stuck in Sharn but this is where his exile had led him. The people of these soft southern cities believed that the war had ended but the Ghaash’kala knew that it went on, and would likely never end. Everyday the Ghaash’kala fought against the tide of darkness that threatened the whole of Khorvaire. Everyday the Clan that protected the borders of the Demon Wastes held at bay horrors that these soft southerners could only dream of. And everyday that Grilok was exiled was another day where he let his brothers die defending the weak and believing that he was a murderous coward.
Two hard years it had been since his humiliation, a humiliation that had cost him his life and left him feeling hollow and dirty. It had almost broken him. He had been spiralling out of control, giving into his anger and drinking heavily. Beaten, broken and bruised he had limped from the Labyrinth and straight into a self-induced hell. If not for the selfless sacrifice of Sithek then he would still be wallowing in self-pity. In fact, truth-be-told, he probably would have given his beliefs away and become one of life’s wasted chances.
But Sithek had saved him. She had bought him back from the brink of insanity, and had woken him to his purpose, had given his anger a focus. He now had drive, although the endless frustrations in his investigation were starting to wear awfully thin. It might be that he needed to look at enlisting aid, a concept that was fairly alien to him since his separation from the Clan. He didn’t think of Sithek as aid. Sithek was family, an extension of himself.
Admittedly, he didn’t know much about who may have framed him for the murder of the visiting Silver Flame priests. They had said that they were hunting a thief who had stolen an artefact of great importance to their church. He had been asked to escort them to Ghaash Dar so that they could plead their case before the Ghaash’kala elders.
On the second evening of their journey though tragedy struck. The guards that accompanied the expedition had been out scouting the area immediately around the site the group had chosen to rest in. Grilok began setting up the camp while the priests dismounted, dusted off their prayer mats and knelt to begin their evening prayers. That was when all hell broke loose, or so Grilok had been told. He could recall nothing of how the priests had died or why he had been spared. Grilok had been discovered standing covered in blood in the middle of the circle of dead priests. All he could recall was the smell of cinnamon and the name ‘Belkorr’ screamed into the night.
The Silver Flame hierarchy demanded restitution and the Ghaash’kala delivered it in the form of a branding, the loss of an eye and exile. Grilok was branded on each palm with the broken circle that identified him as a coward. His left eye was ruined with a sharpened stick, eventually, after infection had set in, Grilok removed the pulped mess that remained. And, what hurt worst of all, he was exiled from his home and divorced from his purpose.
\mo0om/
Since being in Sharn Grilok has been able to follow several leads regarding the mysterious Belkor, they'd all ended in dead ends. He just wasn't cut out for investigative work. His means were those of the wild, he was more straightforward, more direct. And this Belkor was elusive, and powerful, everywhere Grilok turned there was another red herring. Sure as it would rain tomorrow, Belkor knew Grilok was in Sharn. He knew and he revelled in that knowledge. He toyed with Grilok and there was nothing the half orc could do about it.
It'd been three years now since Grilok's shame, three long hard, lonely years. If not for Sithek he would have gone insane, and he wasn't sure if he might not have 'lost-it-a-little'. It became obvious to Grilok early in his time in Sharn that he didn't fit. Well it wasn't so much he didn't, but his beliefs didn't. He didn't feel right in the city, he didn't feel as attuned to his power, but he did what he could and regularly sought out the gardens and parks of Sharn’s higher levels. It was hard being in Sharn and he had to adapt or die.
Grilok managed to find a job as a labourer for the Cannith family in Ashblack . He carried raw ore for the family, ore to fragile to be trusted to the constructs that normally carried out the heavy-duty work. During the day he would work the Cannith foundries, growing in strength, using his determination to regain his stolen heritage, to drive him on, to help him through the hard days. At night he would pursue whatever leads he could find.
It was almost two years before Grilok had saved enough money to move out of the Mud Caves. Two years of lugging ore and fighting with the riff raff that occupied the shantytowns that sprawled at the base of the City of Towers. But eventually he was able to save enough money to relocate from the Mud Caves to Deathsgate. A place of opportunity, a place where he would find it easier to get aid in his quest; and a place where he could use his new found strength and fighting ability to keep him and Sithek dry and fed.
Grilok has recently been hiring on for odd jobs for various mages in Everbright. He figures that the best way to get information on a magic user is to work for one. He has started to build quite a reputation as a collector of spell components. He is enjoying this work much more than the work for the Cannith's. This work gives him the opportunity to get out of the city on occasion, and allows Sithek to run loose for a time. Grilok has become so successful at acquiring difficult to come by components that he is starting to receive referrals and is in constant demand by the arcanes of Everbright.
\mo0om/
Grilok was part of a different branch of the Gatekeepers. The Keepers left the Eldeen Reaches and the Shadow Marches long ago and had to quickly learn to adapt to the new frontier that was the Demon Wastes. They consider the original Gatekeeper sects to be a little soft, if they were true to their beliefs they’d be in the front lines defeating the evils that dwell in the Demon Wastes.
Grilok was taken in and trained at an early age by the Abolishers, a secret group of aberration hunters that operated from within the Demon Waste Gatekeepers. These druids teach that to know ones enemy one must become the enemy, and the Abolishers of the Demon Wastes do just that. In bizarre, arcane rituals not understood by those who aren’t in the highest echelons of the cult, new entrants to the sect are initiated into this ancient cult. These initiations instil some aspect of an aberrant in to the very being of the initiate. Grilok did not finish his training and has not reached his full potential as an Abolisher.
The Abolishers of the Demon Wastes are mysterious and secretive and have many subtle plans in motion. For all Grilok knows (and this is a thought he holds on to with both hands) his whole exile might be part of some greater plan of the Abolishers. [/sblock]
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