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"And be trapped like rats waiting to starve or die?" Gurthock says raising an eyebrow but not his voice. "Better to keep moving and flee this alley. Get this challenge over quickly and move north. After all how do we know we're not on a time limit?" Gripping his axe and moving casually across the street
"Important enough that many people wanted him dead very badly." Gurthock says plainly. With nothing left of interest in the room Gurthock follows Dench to the next door.
Cautiously entering the room with his shield raised Gurthock kicks over the body with his boot. "Wounds of cowardice. But what was he fleeing from?"
Gurthock goes along with Dench to the mentioned doors.
"Hmph, pillaging broken homes it is then." Gurthock says as he turns to Gordon. [b]"Lead the way then."
Stepping back around the corner Gurthock grows impatient.
Out of boredom Gurthock moves to the end of the street staying close to the east most building and peeking around the corner.
Ah, map shows a bunch of people in one building and I ahd a hard time following sorry.
Grumbling something about having the organizational skills of blind drunken cats Gurthock moves up the street between the two buildings the other 4 are raiding.
"Very well. The others seem bent on self destruction rather than cooperation. Raiding these houses for supplies may prove fruitful. I am well enough equipped for now."
Me and Dench will be fine. The rest of you are screwed.
"Agreed. FINISH WHAT YOU ARE DOING AND RENDEZVOUS HERE! DO NOT SEPARATE!"
Gurthock moves to the crossroads axe in hand wary of further danger with his eyes towards the windows.
"Enough of this buffoonery." Axe to Wolf 1.
Gurthock smashes into Wolf 2 with his Axe looking to finish he job his shield started. Maneuvers:
Attack
If Wolf Dies(For Dench and GM): Swift: Activate Pride Movement. Dench gets a free move action right now. "Press Forward! Cut them down!"
Gurthock took Improved Shield Bash as his 1st level feat. So he still has his full AC. Even without his shield he has a 17AC.
Gurthock snarls at the flea bitten animal mistaking his leg for sustenance. Slapping it aside with a ferocious roar of his own Swift: Enter Black Seraph's Glare stance (won't be dropping this until I go unconscious). Standard: Flurry Strike the wolf using shield. Attack 1
Attack 2
IF The Wolf is damaged but Survives this attack:
Gurthock will intimidate. Intimidate the wolf.
If the wolf is killed by the attack: Gurthock will press forward to L6
Turning from the window and seeing the other two attempting to sneak closer he signals to the others to follow as he moves to the other side of the street by the first tree.
Gurthock shakes his head. "If your scout cannot operate even when discovered than they are worthless." At being called to the window he strides over and peers inside cautiously as if half expecting to be riddled with crossbow bolts. He frowns at the sight. Turning to address the others he says.
As the dwarf grumbles his report Gurthock cannot help but mutter. "Somehow I doubt you have ever laughed at anything."
Not taking any chances Gurthock gets into a fighting stance and stares down the fog from his position at the mouth of the alley. "Send your scout. We cannot prepare ourselves to merely fight against odors and figments"
"Let us wait to see what the dwarf reports before moving on. This place is as curious and deceptive as the tower."
Can you guess why gurthock died yet?
"One of you should check the window to see what manner of creatures we are dealing with. I will proceed to the end of this alleyway." Moving to the end of the alleyway Gurthock takes a look left and right. Perception
Gurthock quickly asses that being on the bridge floating only by the portals may be a poor idea and quickly rushes to the other side lingering on the threshold until the last second of the first portal's closure.
As promised Gurthock steps through first.
"Yes." The fiend says as he rises up from his sitting position and stretching to his full height and pulling the shield off his back to fit it to his hand. "Make whatever preparations you must now. Then I will be the first to enter." As he draws his axe giving the edge an inspecting glance he adds. "Before we begin know that I am Gurthock The Fleshmincer. Knight of the Black Thorn , soldier of Hell against the all consuming hordes of the Abyss. I do not ask your service nor your particular loyalties. My one and only goal at this juncture is to remove myself from this demiplane and return to my duties. Prove useful in this campaign and you will not find a more stalwart an ally. Fail in this through treachery or incompetence and." Gurthock smiles broadly as he pauses the effect of his rows of sharp teeth reminding your subconscious of shark attacks and baying hyenas. "I will make you useful."
Gurthock takes his time meticulously ordering everything in the room and taking care that his possessions were in order. gripping the axe he wondered for a moment if the weapons and armor he held were counterfeits. Perhaps. The worn smooth handle of the axe felt familiar, as did the heft of the shield. Some painful work with a knife and some padding made the armor bearable to wear but the constant rubbing against the deep wound did not improve his attitude much. As he left the room he lingered under the pipes for a moment fighting a gnawing curiosity. He decided he would wait. Once out of the room he waited by the first portal to the first of these so-called challenegs. As he waited he focused his mind and body to the task at hand and pondered the tools at his disposal.
As he touched the vault the pain in his chest resonated with it. Part of him was glad he wouldn't have to go through the awkward motion of putting his chest to it the doors or worse, having to rip it out of is flesh. Satisfied things were in order he took the time to sumarilly executed the other light sources in the room effectively plunging it into pitch blackness. This done, he inspects the damaged wall seeing where, if anywhere it goes.
Adding nothing else Gurth selects his room.
Gurthock frowns. "Very well. I hope this master does not expect gratitude for this forced servitude. Had he wished a contract with me in exchange for my life their are far more formal ways to go about it." Crossing his arms taking visible care not to brush against the still protruding wooden shaft in his shaft he adds. "Take me to my weapons and armor. Then we shall see about these challenges."
Gurthock looks non-plussed at this display. "And what should happen if we refuse these challenges and try to leave?"
"I only know that I should be dead." Gruthock mutters frowning. "I would like to know what power can reach into hell and snatch me from the grasp of the Lady of Graves."
Gurthock pauses to regard the puppy man before shoving him aside with one arm and moving on shaking his head. "Humans."
"AAARRRRR!!!" A brawny gray skinned devilish man roars as he grips what appears to be a shaft of pure light jutting straight out of his scarred and muscular chest. With a further grunt a distinctive wooden snap is heard as he breaks the arrow just outside of his flesh. Tossing the shaft aside the light from it fades to reveal a pure white wooden rod fletched with golden feathers. The wound bleeds lightly in black blood as the fiend takes in his surroundings with a calculating glare. In a deep baritone he speaks. "Mortals? And this is neither the Boneyard nor Avernus. Peculiar." Stepping through the water the man pushes past the rest and follows the elven woman outside.
I eat people!
Thank you all for making Gurthock seem sane in comparison. :P
Gurthock the Fleshmincer:
Brutal, ruthless, disciplined. these are the expectations of every soldier of hell.
Gurthock was born into hell. He did not choose it, nor would he given a choice. Afterall, fate chose him to exist here, what good would it be to defy it? This pragmatism, and acceptance of what he is and whom he serves is the source of Gurthock's strength. This confidence allowed him to survive in the brutal chattel pits of Avernus. It also allowed him the priviledge of swearing an oath before the feet of an Erinyes his eternal pledge to expunge chaos and bring order to the multiverse. His lot was to destroy demons and defend the gates of hell from the wretched hordes of mercurial Azata's and Demons that constantly battered them. After surviving many battles standing shoulder to shoulder with his brethren Gurthock rose to the rank of Corporal and earned the title Fleshmincer for the merciless way he would bite into and rip apart foes who thought him helpless unarmed. For all this brutality though Gurthock is mostly a cold and calculating strategist as capable of complex plans and intrigue as he is sudden and brutal violence. Indeed it looked to many in the legions of hell that the tiefling would rise to some prominent position of power at some point. That is until a celestial incursion swept up his legion and slaughtered them to a man. He understands that life, particularly his own, has no intrinsic value until that individual has earned it through deed. He gave his life in service to hell and has no regrets in how he lived. Without him and many others like him chaos would rule and not but entropy would rule the day. Awakening in this strange place Gurthock will simply forge ahead into what's in front of him. For the moment he is at a loss on what to do with himself, being so used to a life of orders and regimen as he is. Gurthock is a grayskinned tiefling with large horns and teeth reminiscent of a sharks. He is disciplined and loyal to a certain degree to those he fights with, though this is more out of practicality than any frivolous emotional attachment. Gurthock does not kill needlessly understanding that the living can be so much more valuable to the point he is willing to accept injury in such a persons place to preserve their value if not indebt them to him. In hell, Gurthock is a simple brute, however among mortals Gurthock is an intellectual and physical giant whom wields both with a great deal of proficiency. Backstory done. Unless their are further problems wiht my sheet he should be complete now.
Alrighty things should be straightened out now. I may have one or two gold left. I don't mind. I'm discarding it. The intent is that Gurthock is freshly dead off a battlefield so the idea of him carrying his wallet into war is somewhat absurd (hell has great banks afterall). Greypiece(The Wound:
Description: Gurthock's greypiece is the very arrowhead that killed him. Fired by a solar and cleaving his heart in two, or so he believed. The arrowhead itself is still buried in his chest, the shaft broken off just above the skin. Removing it, even with the aid of a skilled healer, may kill him. Cantrip/Orison: Guidance Other Thing: Gurthock's wound begins to bleed and cause him pain when adjacent to an angel. Slotted Item: Chest. Will have backstory when I wake up later but something quick for now. Long story short Gurthock was a corporal in one of the many legions of hell serving the Black Thorn Nights specifically against the forces of the abyss. His unit runs afoul of celestial raiders and he gets picked off by a solar who didn't even look in his direction when he killed him (no illusions here that Solar could sneeze in his general direction and kill him).
Tiefling. Gurthock was meant to be a member of the black thorn nights which allows you to exchange a style for black seraph. If that's not okay I'll have to make adjustments. Everything else is just sheet errors pretty sure I had very little gold left. Actually intended to start with none
Here's the initial crunch and profile. Will get to work on backstory and greypiece tomorrow.
Gurthock shrugs. "The pointy eared bastard decided ta sample the shaman's goods. I swear by Mammons spiky ballsack if he starts screaming fer a knoife ta pry the spiders off his skin I might just grant him his humble wish."
"Nope." The pit fiend says as he slams the door and makes his way back to the group.
Looking up at the inscription the tiny pitfiend snorts. "Berk is crazy as snot. Moight don't have anything ta do with it. It's how cunning ye is, how ruthless." Gurthock contemplated going back and reporting his findings. Afterall there could be deadly traps, horrible monsters, granted in hsi true form these would be minor annoyances. Right now though they'd cut this weak form to ribbons and he'd be blasted back to his home plane.... With a serene smile (made more terrible by a maw full of fangs) the tiny pitfiend pushes through the door as quietly as possible. The prospect of discorporation had merit. But pain did not. Stealth
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