About Hjalmar Ironside. . . . . . . .
Background: Garroths life began like so many of his kind before him, a cruel society branding him an outcast before he had even spoken his first words or taken his first steps. On a cool night as Summer gave way to Fall, Garroth was left outside the walls of the monastery of a local fraternity of monks, the Brotherhood of Serenity. A hurried knock on the gate and a cloaked figure stumbling away in the dark, was all the monk who answered ever knew of whoever had left Garroth on the steps. The way Garroth arrived at the monastery was no surprise to the monks however, the walls of the estate having housed a multitude of adoptive sons in its time. Without a second thought, he was picked up, taken inside and raised as their own. Garroth enjoyed a safe and happy childhood, shielded from the ugliness of the world around him and raised on a healthy combination of formal schooling, martial exercise and homegrown food.
However for all the comfort and happiness the monks could offer him, a restlessness soon settled in him, a product of his orcish heritage far more pronounced than the features of his body. By the time he turned 12, he had lost interest in meditation, unable to concentrate. Frustrated, he instead started spending the time practicing his martial skills. Where adolescence had all but undone the peaceful demeanor of his upbringing, it had given him in its place a strong body, no longer a boy but a man. It wasn't long before martial exercise was the only thing that could calm the longing he felt. He didn't know what it was he was missing, what he wanted in life, but at the dawn of his 13th year, he knew he wouldn't find it within the monastery walls. He soon started sneaking outside the monastery, traveling into town and experiencing it on his own. The monks knew of course, but keeping Garroth locked away would not lead him back to the serenity of his childhood. However while the monks had failed to instill a lasting peace in the young half-orcs heart, their training had not been for nothing. Many were the times when their teachings got him out of a situation his rebellious teenage mind got him into. Over the next couple of years, Garroth spent almost all his time outside the monastery walls, sometimes being gone for days on end. He spent many nights on the street, until one day he managed to land a job cooking in the kitchen of The Prize Cow, an upscale local tavern. Growing up, cooking had been Garroths favorite chore, and though he was certainly no prodigy, he was better than most. His skill afforded him a free room, and for the first time in his life, Garroth had money of his own to spend. Not knowing what to spend it on, he shared it with the street kids and the beggars, soon gaining the attention of the thugs on the street. Seeing his willingness to share, it did not take long before they approached him with suggestions for ways to spend him earnings. For a time, gambling, drinking and other vices were his daily companions. Garroth had a particularly impressive losing streak to a man by the name of Flynn, a local charlatan and street hustler. Garroth liked Flynn, even though he routinely took him to the cleaners when they played, so when one of Flynn's previous victims attempted to beat his money back out of the con-man, Garroth intervened. A series of maneuvers and punishing kicks saw the man splayed on the floor, groaning unconsciously. Flynn was impressed. Seeing Garroth's potential, Flynn offered him a job. Flynn possessed enough street smarts for 10 men, but when it came to defending himself he was all but useless. Often he would lose a whole nights take, backing down when a sore loser coerced him to give it up. Garroth was just the kind of person he needed. While Flynn had no talent for combat, he knew that Garroth needed more than his praise if he was going to cut it as a bodyguard. Calling in a favor, he soon had Garroth training under the tutelage of a grizzled old man named Darvik, a seasoned soldier who now enjoyed his golden years training militia recruits. Garroth did not take easily to the training, the use of armor being completely alien to him. But Darvik knew his stuff, and soon enough he had the young monk accustomed to its use. Garroths training complete, Flynn paid to equip him with everything he needed. Flynn's investment paid off. Within a matter of months, Flynn and Garroth had cleaned out the city's underworld, with no one left who was willing to deal with the duo. Flynn decided it was time he moved on to new opportunities, asking Garroth to join him. Garroth knew he wanted to go, but with the prospect of leaving behind the place he had called home, the men who had been his parent when his own would or could not, he knew he had to see them. Returning to the monastery for the first time in weeks, Garroth spent the next few days amongst them once more, staying longer than he had in over a year. His fathers were of course understanding, as he knew they would be, but he was surprised when they decided to offer him a parting gift, a beautifully crafted temple sword. He had looked at that sword many times as a boy, marveling at it through the glass of its display. It had long ago been a revered relic in the monastery's martial past, but as the philosophy of the monks had changed, so too had the weapon, becoming nothing more than an ornament. Embodying their past as he did, they thought it only fitting that he carry it with him. Leaving for the next city, Garroth traveled farther from home than he had ever been, he and Flynn making a good living cheating at gambling and cracking bones respectively. However by the end of their fifth year, Flynn had gathered a small fortune and decided it was time to settle down and live the good life. He wasn't getting any younger after all. Unwilling or afraid to strike out on his own, Garroth decided to stick around, offering to continue his work practically for free, tending to Flynn's estate and cooking his meals, playing the role of butler and bodyguard combined. However, as much as he enjoyed Flynns companionship, Garroth wasn't truly happy. He had been on his way, seeing the world and living what he saw as a fulfilling life, and now he was stuck, bound by his own sense of duty. Luckily, Flynn realized it too. Having conned and courted his way into a marriage with a local lady, Flynn had landed himself in the bosom of high society and the connections that came with it. One of his new acquaintances, a high ranking member of the Aspis Consortium, had been most impressed by Flynn's only slightly exaggerated praise of Garroth. After a meeting and Flynn's urgings for Garroth to take the job, Garroth found himself working for the Consortium, protecting high and low-ranking agents alike as they went about their business. Personality: Garroth possesses a duality of character that leaves many confused after first meeting him. In matters pertaining to himself and those he regard as friends, he possesses a relaxed, almost cheerful demeanor and enjoys drink and playful banter. However, once the subject of conversation or activity is that of his profession, he becomes practical and cold, determined to do his job as professionally and effectively as possible. Bridging these opposing personalities is Garroth pride, a trait he finds to be both a boon and a curse, having pushed him to become as good at his job as he is, but also landing him in trouble on many occasions. Many a jovial tavern visit has turned sour at the wrong words spoken about him, just as he has lost track of the wages lost breaking contracts with employers who thought themselves superior enough to speak ill of his abilities (on one occasion even leaving a merchant on a bandit infested road after one too many comments). Appearance: At a short distance, and even briefly up close, the man appears to be human. However it doesn't take long for you to realize upon closer inspection, that orcish blood courses through his veins. His wide, powerful jaw and under bite, while not unheard of amongst humans, are the first clues that something is different about this man. His grey eyes sit deep in their sockets, the depth exaggerated by the prominence of his brow. Thin light lines criss-cross his tanned skin, telling the tales of previous conflict. He twists his upper lip into a sneer as he notices the way you look at him, revealing overly large lower canines, confirming your suspicions. Even then, the subtlety of his monstrous features makes him look rugged, not ugly, maybe handsome to some.
As he rises from his seat, his plated armored chest, shoulders and arms give off a soft metallic rattle, as numerous implements of his trade shift along their surfaces. His gear looks weather beaten and well used, but well kept. The weapon at his hip breaks the uniform look of dulled steel and brown and black leather. Its polished shine and intricately worked hilt is what draws your eye, but looking at it closer, you are left wondering about its construction, seemingly a longsword with its blade curving into a hook. The weapon looks unwieldy and awkward to use and compared to its exotic appearance, the man bearing it seems almost plain. As he stands fully upright, you realize he is tall, standing several inches over six feet in height. Though his armor and clothes makes it hard to truly tell, with the way he carries himself, you get the sense that his physique is lean and well toned, likely much stronger and faster than he initially looks. Removing his helmet, combing back thick strands of long, black, sweaty hair with his free hand, he looks you over for several long moments before nodding to himself. Removing his gauntlet, revealing an intricate network of stylized tattoos, he extends his hand towards you, offering a polite smile. "Names Garroth." he says courtly, releasing his handshake and gesturing towards a chair opposite his own. Sitting down he quickly adds: "Half up front and not a copper less...but drinks are on me while we write up the paperwork." He flashes a toothy grin, before his eyes flicker briefly and his face returns to a serious, businesslike frown Race/Class: Male Dwarf Barbarian 0 (Dreadnought, Invulnerable Rager), Fighter 1 (Mobile Fighter) Size/Type: Medium Humanoid (Dwarf) Alignment: Neutral-good Initiative: +1 Senses: Darkvision, Perception +3, Sense Motive +3 Languages: Common, Dwarven
Str: 17 Dex: 12 Con: 16 Int: 10 Wis: 16 Cha: 8 BAB: +1, CMB: +4, CMD: 16
AC: 20, Touch: 12, Flat-footed: 19 (+6 Armor, +2 Shield, +1 Dex, +1 Trait) HP: 16 (1d10(10), +3 Con, +3 Toughness, +0 Favoured Class(Barbarian)) Fort(2): +5, Refl(0): +1, Will(0): +3
Speed: 20 ft. Dwarven Waraxe: +5 (1d10 + 3 (20x3)) Javelin: +2 (1d6 + 3 (20x2)) Unarmed Strike: +4 (1d3 + 3 (20x2))
Toughness ( Link ): (You have enhanced physical stamina.) Weapon Focus (Dwarven Waraxe) ( Link ): (Gain greater skill with selected weapon.)
Defender of the Society ( Link ): (+1 Trait bonus to Armor Class while wearing Medium or Heavy armor.) Glory of old ( Link ): (You receive a bonus on saving throws against spells, spell-like abilities, and poison.)
(2 ranks, 0 Favoured Class (Barbarian)) Climb(1): +7 Perception(0): +3 Sense Motive(0): +3 Survival(1): +7
City-Raised (+2 bonus on Knowledge(Local) checks, Proficient with Longswords and Whips. Replaces Weapon Familiarity) Intimidating (+2 racial bonus on Intimidate checks) Orc Blood (Count as both Human and Orc for any effect related to race) Sacred Tattoos (+1 Luck bonus on all Saves. Replaces Ferocity) Skilled (+1 Skill Point per Level. Replaces Darkvision)
Fighter Bonus Feats: (+1) (Weapon Focus (Dwarven Waraxe))
COMBAT / MAGIC EQUIPMENT (46 Lb):
OTHER EQUIPMENT (27 Lb):
73 Lb Total (Light load = 100) Wealth: 825 Gold, 0 Silver, 0 Copper |
