Gorthug's page

No Constitution score. Undead use their Charisma score in place of their Constitution score when calculating hit points, Fortitude saves, and any special ability that relies on Constitution (such as when calculating a breath weapon’s DC).
Darkvision 60 feet.
Immunity to all mind-affecting effects (charms, compulsions, morale effects, patterns, and phantasms).
Immunity to death effects, disease, paralysis, poison, sleep effects, and stunning.
Not subject to nonlethal damage, ability drain, or energy drain. Immune to damage to its physical ability scores (Constitution, Dexterity, and Strength), as well as to exhaustion and fatigue effects.
Cannot heal damage on its own if it has no Intelligence score, although it can be healed. Negative energy (such as an inflict spell) can heal undead creatures. The fast healing special quality works regardless of the creature’s Intelligence score.
Immunity to any effect that requires a Fortitude save (unless the effect also works on objects or is harmless).
Not at risk of death from massive damage, but is immediately destroyed when reduced to 0 hit points.
Not affected by raise dead and reincarnate spells or abilities. Resurrection and true resurrection can affect undead creatures. These spells turn undead creatures back into the living creatures they were before becoming undead.
Proficient with its natural weapons, all simple weapons, and any weapons mentioned in its entry.
Proficient with whatever type of armor (light, medium, or heavy) it is described as wearing, as well as all lighter types. Undead not indicated as wearing armor are not proficient with armor. Undead are proficient with shields if they are proficient with any form of armor.
Undead do not breathe, eat, or sleep.

CR2: Draugr
CR3: Draugr Captain
CR4: Rough Rider Fighter (1)
CR5: Graveknight (modified: No rejuvenation, only +4 Str, no natural AC)
CR6: Rough Rider Fighter (2)
CR7: Rough Rider Fighter (3)
CR8: Nightmare Creature
CR9: Rough Rider (4)
CR10: Rough Rider (5)

The orcs feasted, for the next night they would assault the tower. They had marched for many a mile to come to it. It was said that a cowardly mage lived within, hoarding his treasure and living alone. They boasted, that night. Of battles won and even more so of victories yet to come. Gorthug raised his axe as he spoke of the great battles he would win. They laughed. He laughed. All drank. What point was it to hold back when they would leave wealthy and glorious? Gorthug smiled. It was an easy going smile that spoke of supreme confidence. He was not ugly, even by the standards of men. Unlike many of his kind, he had a certain savage grace about him. He was charismatic, and was destined for greatness. The oracle of his tribe had told him that he would look at death and that even if would not stop him from walking this world. So what was there to fear? He was Gorthug the Fearless! Thus was he called, thus he would be.

Gorthug was breathing heavily, his body covered in wounds. Very few of his tribe were left. The animated suits of armor had seen to that. Many of the tribe had fled. Even Knugg was gone, the chieftain’s son. Knugg has found a ruby scepter and had run with it, taking it as proof of his victory to show his father. He said that any who stayed would die. But Gorthug knew no fear. He would return with true victory, and then the tribe would know who was truly destined to lead them!

Knugg watched a figure grudge through the snow. The orc squinted his eyes, wondering who would be dumb enough to be outside on a night like that. Ever since he had returned victorious, he had been hailed as a hero. Nobody doubted him anymore. Not even his father. So many of the raiding party had died, but what mattered was that he survived and there was nobody to dispute his claims. Nobody but...Gorthug? The orc warrior looked frozen. Ice hung from every inch of his body. Gaping wounds were untreated. He dragged his axe behind him.

”...the...scepter...” Gorthug moaned, despair filling his voice. He couldn’t die. The wizard wouldn’t allow it. ”...give it...back!”

Knugg took off running, back to the main hall. He slammed the door behind him, fear written on his face. The orcs inside looked at him quizzically. ”G-g-guh-Ghost!” He stammered. Gorthug’s axe collided with the door.

Gorthug stood at the door. He hadn’t moved in...how long? He didn’t know. He didn’t know much anymore. He had spent...how long? He didn’t know how long. He had spent time under water when the room flooded and the master had forgotten about him. Had the master forgotten again? He couldn’t go against the master’s will. At some point he had died, but he didn’t know when. Time had no meaning. There were times when he thought that he was alive, back at the Great Hall. That his kin surrounded him. But the illusions faded, coming less and less. As time rolled on he was losing himself. Forgetting even his name. He had forgotten his parents, his rivals, even the name of his tribe. But his own name? He held onto it like a drowning man held onto a raft. Once he forgot that he would be gone, gone forever.

His skin had long since rotted away, and his leather armor would soon follow. His old axe, the same axe that had killed Knugg, rested on his shoulder. Flickers of red flame glowed where his eyes once more, and a raspy wind had replaced his once booming voice. Soon he would be no more. Unless the wizard died, or at least vanished, he would never be free. If he remembered any of his old gods, he would have prayed for death.