Ekaym Smallcask

Hakon Grunson's page

349 posts. Alias of electricjokecascade (RPG Superstar Season 9 Top 16).


Classes/Levels

Stamina Pool: 5/5

Gender

Level 4 | HP: 23/43 | AC: 25, T: 16, FF: 21 | Fort: +6, Ref: +7, Will: +5 | CMB: +4, CMD: 16 | Init: +9, Perception: +8 |

About Hakon Grunson

Male Human Gestalt Fighter/Rogue (Scout/Survivalist) 4
CG Medium humanoid (human)
Init +8; Senses Perception +8

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Defense
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AC
25, touch 16, flat-footed 20, (+6 armor, +4 Dex, +2 Shield, +3 Attunement)
HP 43 (4d8+4)
Fort +7; Ref +9; Will +5;

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Offense
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Speed
30 ft.
Melee Longsword +5 (1d8+2+1d6(frost)/ x3)/ Shield Bash +6 (1d3+1)
Ranged Spear +7 (1d6+1/ x2)
Special Attacks +2d6 sneak attack

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Statistics
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Str
12, Dex 19 (16), Con 12, Int 12, Wis 14, Cha 14
Base Atk +4; CMB +2; CMD 15,
Combat Stamina 2

Feats Improved Initiative, Toughness, Weapon Finesse, Weapon Focus (Hand-ax/Longsword), Two Weapon Fighting, Improved Shield Bash, Shield Focus, Combat Expertise, Weapon Focus (Heavy Shield)

Traits Heir, Tactician

Skills

+8 Acrobatics 2(Dex)(-3 Armor)
+5 Climb 1(Str)(-3 Armor)
+9 Diplomacy 1(Cha)
+7 Handle Animal 1(Cha)
+5 Knowledge (nobility) (Int)
+8 Knowledge 1(local) +4 (Int)
+9 Perception 1(Wis)
+7 Perform (Sing) (Cha)
+10 Ride 1(Dex)
+8 Sense Motive 1(Wis),
+8 Stealth 1(Dex)(-3 Armor)
+9 Survival 1(Wis)
+3 Swim 1(Str)(-3 Armor)

Languages Norsk, Runic
SQ Hardy
Mundane Gear
25 gp, a MW breastplate, a MW heavy wooden shield, a MW longsword, halberd, and clothing befitting your station

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Special Abilities
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Bravery Starting at 2nd level, a fighter gains a +1 bonus on Will saves against fear. This bonus increases by +1 for every four levels beyond 2nd.
Evasion At 2nd level and higher, a rogue can avoid even magical and unusual attacks with great agility. If she makes a successful Reflex saving throw against an attack that normally deals half damage on a successful save, she instead takes no damage. Evasion can be used only if the rogue is wearing light armor or no armor. A helpless rogue does not gain the benefit of evasion.
Hardy At 1st level, a survivalist is already prepared to endure extreme hardships and environmental conditions. She can go twice the normal number of days without water and triple the normal number of days without food before feeling the effects of either thirst or starvation.
Heir You are the child of a jarl, and thus stand to inherit some degree of wealth. As a result you are expected to live up to the expectations of your position, and have a bonus of +10 votes when appearing before a Thing. You begin your adventuring career with an extra 300 gp, a chain shirt, a heavy wooden shield, a hand weapon, and clothing befitting your station.
Improved Initiative You get a +4 bonus on initiative checks.
Tactician You gain a +1 trait bonus on initiative checks. In addition, once per day when you make an attack of opportunity, you gain a +2 trait bonus on the attack roll.
Toughness You gain +3 hit points. For every Hit Die you possess beyond 3, you gain an additional +1 hit point. If you have more than 3 Hit
Weapon Finesse With a light weapon, elven curve blade, rapier, whip, or spiked chain made for a creature of your size category, you may use your Dexterity modifier instead of your Strength modifier on attack rolls. If you carry a shield, its armor check penalty applies to your attack rolls.
Dice, you gain +1 hit points whenever you gain a Hit Die (such as when you gain a level).
Weapon Focus (Hand-ax) You gain a +1 bonus on all attack rolls you make using the selected weapon.

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Description
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Height:
Weight: lbs.

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Background
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Hakon raised his cup nonchalantly, aware that all eyes were on him, the silence in his father's longhouse palpable as everyone awaited his reply. Snorri stood across from him, huge and muscle bound, radiating fury and flexing his hands as rhythmically as the tides.

"I demand the right to defend my honor," rasped Snorri, turning at last to glare at Hakon's father, Grun.

Muttering interwove with the crackle of the flames. Even the dogs were silent, bones forgotten, aware of the tension.

The jarl was leaning back in his chair, the sole such piece of furniture in the whole building. Everyone else sat on benches. He seemed, if anything, resigned. "Well, son?" He raised an eyebrow. "Is it true?"

The time had come. Hakon set his cup aside and rose smoothly to his feet. Where Snorri had the build and power of a bear, Hakon was slender and lithe. He wiped the mead away with the back of his hand, and then smiled pleasantly at his father's huscarl. "This brew is good, but it doesn't taste nearly as sweet as the juices of your wife."

Snorri roared as if speared in the gut, placed one foot on the bench and launched himself over the table. Hakon, knowing this attack would come, side stepped neatly so that the huscarl crashed over the bench to the reed strewn floor. Men were yelling, many laughing, and a number came forward to grab Snorri as he rose to his feet.

"Very well," said Grun. "I believe that to be an admission of guilt. Hakon, I will not shield you from this. You will have to answer for your crime before Wotan. Snorri, you have my permission to seek redress."

"Outside," snarled Snorri, shrugging off the restraining hands. "Long knives, nothing else."

Hakon nodded, and searched out Ingolf in the crowd. The hirdman was ashen faced, and was staring at Hakon in bewilderment. Before the hirdman could look away, Hakon nodded, and Ingolf flushed a deep crimson.

The crowd parted before Snorri, and Hakon followed after, stepping out of the dark and smoky longhouse into the hard scrabble clearing in the town center. The sky overhead was the color of iron, and a cold wind was scything through the air, tasting of salt and drying fish. Snorri was walking rapidly around the honor circle, slapping at his own shoulders and letting out barks of anger, working himself up into a combat rage. Hakon stood still, his stomach growing tight, his pulse racing. He didn't reach for anger when he fought. Oh no.

The crowd filled in around them. It wasn't every day - or year - that the jarl's son fought the jarl's prized huscarl. Soon over a hundred men and women were gathered around them, faces hard, eyes cold. This was justice, not sport. If Snorri's anger were just, Wotan would guide his knife and leave Hakon gutted on the stony ground. Were Wotan amused by Hakon's indiscretion, than it would be Snorri that would pay the price.

Ingolf, Hakon noticed, had pushed his way to the front. There was no sign of Snorri's wife, Hreda. A large gap opened in the crowd, and Grun stepped forth to fill it, flanked by his huscarls.

There was little ceremony. Grun looked to the skies, frowned, and then nodded. "Begin."

Snorri came roaring right at Hakon, long knife held low and to the side. Hakon waited on the balls of his feet, and at the last moment threw himself into a forward roll to Snorri's left, passing under the slash of the knife and coming up in a spray of loose stones to his feet.

Snorri, surprised, wheeled around, and this time came forward in quick bursts, slashing the air with his knife with each step.

Hakon gave ground, forcing himself to breath as calmly as he could, saying over and over in his mind, stay calm, stay calm, wait - wait for your chance.

Snorri lost his patience. He was a feared fighter, known to always be the first over the side of the raiding ships, the first to swing his ax at the enemy shield wall. Hakon was a stripling, given to henfatafl and making the women laugh. That he yet stood in this combat was a personal affront. With a roar, Snorri leaped high, dagger coming down like a bolt from Thor.

Just as Hakon had hoped. He tensed, ready, and at the very last ducked down under Snorri's descending arm and past him.

Silence. Snorri stood frozen, hunched over where he'd landed, stunned it seemed by the speed with which Hakon had moved. Then, with effort, he straightened and stared at the knife handle that protruded from his sternum. He touched it, almost as if in wonder, then collapsed with a groan to the ground.

There were no cheers, no roars of approval. The farmers, thralls, and huscarls stared at the fallen Snorri, then turned to the Hakon, who watched them re-evaluate him. So there was some fire in the jarl's son, he could sense them thinking. Fast. More dangerous than he looks. Wotan has spoken. So be it.

The crowd melted away as a scream sounded, and Hreda came tearing forth to fall by Snorri's side. Ingolf moved forward to comfort her, as did several of Snorri's kin.

Hakon would fetch his knife later. He followed his father back into the longhouse, and by unspoken agreement walked with him to the head of the empty table, where they sat together. A thrall poured them fresh cups of mead, and for a long moment neither spoke.

"You never lay with Hreda," said Grun at last.

Hakon sipped from his cup.

"Yet you took the blame so as to provoke Snorri and kill him. Why?"

Hakon set his cup down. "At the skirmish last month against Ivar's village, I saw Snorri strike down Leif from behind."

Grun considered this. "Leif had accused him at the Thing of still being loyal to his kinsman, Ivar."

Hakon nodded. "Sigurd saw Snorri do this, and challenged him in the midst of the battle. Snorri killed him as well."

Grun sat up. "Why didn't you tell me of this?"

Hakon held his father's gaze. "You would have accused him, and Snorri would have demanded the right to defend his honor. He'd have killed me in cold blood. When calm, he is by far a better fighter than I am."

"Was," said Grun.

Hakon shrugged. "He'd have killed me, then taken half your huscarls with him to Ivar, claiming that he could no longer be part of your steading."

Grun nodded, stroking his beard. "So you let him think you were sleeping with his wife so as to enrage him. But you weren't. Who was?"

Hakon smiled slyly. "By luck, Ingolf was."

"Ingolf?" Grun stared at Hakon in surprise, and then laughed. "He knows you know?"

Hakon nodded. "Of course. He's now in my debt. Which puts him in yours. Which means he won't be bothering you any longer about that longship."

Grun nodded, mind moving quickly along the ramifications. "Ingolf is now mine. Snorri the traitor is dead. And Ivar deprived of his chance to steal my men. Leif and Sigurd are avenged." He considered his son. "Your games of henfatafl have done you well, Hakon. Perhaps I had misjudged you."

Hakon rose to his feet, finishing his cup and setting it down. "Perhaps. But if you will excuse me father, I have pressing business to attend to."

Grun smiled. "We're not done here yet. I have news for you that today's business has only affirmed."

Hakon raised an eyebrow. "You have other women you wish me to pretend to bed?"

"Watch your tongue, boy. No. I'm sending you to my cousin's village. It is high time I gave some signal of our continued ties, and you shall stay in his hall for a season as evidence of our mutual bonds."

Hakon froze, eyes narrowing. It had been seven summers since last he had seen his uncle Olaf. "Ah," he said. "A season?"

Grun's smile grew wicked. "It's no punishment boy, unless you choose to make it such. A chance for you to run with a new band of huscarls, to make allies, to carve out your own political future by creating bonds of your own. A season. Whomever you're bedding here will be patient enough to await your return. And if they're not? There are always other women willing enough for a jarl's son."

Hakon snorted. "As you command, father. When am I to leave?"

"Within the week. I expect to hear good things about you, boy. Make me proud."

At this Hakon's smile returned. "Aren't you already?"

Grun leaned back with a laugh. "For the sake of your pride I won't answer that. Now be gone. One week, mind, then I expect to see the back of your head."

Hakon gave a mock bow. "I shall do you one better, father, and show it to you now. Good evening." So saying, he turned and walked away.
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