NPC: Hrogath of Deephold

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    • Markshire PCs: Grottle, Gruzk, Ashimar

    I was born in Deephold, a dwarven city in Markshire, Kingdom of Ice. At the ripe old age of ten I was chosen by the priests of Odin ta undergo a ritual called, Mithagda. Translated, it means Born of Mithral. For five years I trained under the tutelage of the priests and some of the greatest warriors of the city. On me fifteenth birthday I underwent the ritual. I do not recall much of it and hope I never do.

    I am the only survivor within the last 300 years and that’s fine with me. Accordin’ ta the priests I was placed in a stylized and unique mold prepared by them. Molten mithral from the Molten Lake outside of their city was poured inta the mold and covered me head ta toe. When the priests finished their chants and released the mold I was born anew. I was sheathed in the armor I am wearin’ with only me face uncovered. The metal of the armor is flexible and provides total freedom of movement. Aside from bein’ permanently attached ta me body and the ability ta move in it the armor is nothin’ more unusual than plain unadorned mithral plate armor.

    The priests told me that the process would reshape me psyche or some such bull. That I would become some champion of “Good” and uphold the “Law” of Deephold and defend it ‘til I die. Unfortunately for them it did no such thing. The old wind bags expected a saint. They got nothin’ but a sinner. Ha, Ha, Ha!

    I soon left Deephold in search of misadventures and fun. Found out quickly that I was suddenly a target for mischief and mayhem.

    Let’s see … where was I … oh yeah, mayhem! The last time I was in Markshire found me protectin’ some wizard’s house. Can’t for the life of me remember his name? High Gin … Wiggin … Boggins … Anyway he was havin’ trouble from this Black Dragon. So there I was sittin’ on the roof of the nut’s house with a bunch of other goons he’s hired. Right paranoid little bastard he was. So there I was when I get an urge ta burst out laughing. Didn’t, but I felt the urge to. Looked around expectin’ ta see the Black somewhere about and wouldn’t ya know it, the Black had snuck up and coiled himself around the base of the house.

    Well, there was nothin’ for it but ta jump on him and do him some grievous harm. Landed smack on his snout, I did. Well, I am a bright dwarf, I knew that I had ta find a purchase somewhere on him or he’d whip me off. So I stuck me arm up his nose. Sword and all! Ha, ha, ha! Boy, he didn’t much care for that. Anyway, he grabbed hold of me by the legs, well most of me really, and yanked. Now, ya’re probably wonderin’ why on earth I put me-self in such a predicament. Dragons are very strong, but with this hunk of metal and leather around me waist so am I. He yanked and I held on.

    Well, he figured he’d do me in with his breath. So he shoved me towards the front of his snout ta spray me with acid. Ta bad for him I out matched him. I swung me arm up under his jaw and snapped it shut. Then I figured I need a better grip so I punched through the membrane of his nose inta the other nostril. He actually tried ta scream. Ha, ha!

    Didn’t he just grab me with both his fore claws and try ta rip me out of his nose. Almost did it too. That’s when I decided that I didn’t want ta be a nose ring. I had heard there were some that pierced their tongues and such. So I pushed me hand through the roof of his mouth. Didn’t he just wrench his jaws open and howl with pain. Ha, ha! So that’s when the other’s finally put some hurtin’ on him and he fell over. Presumably dead. Unfortunately, he had some kind of magic that allowed him ta Regenerate and Heal himself. So shortly after removin’ me hand from his face he stood up and proceeded ta rip the house down. Well, more than it already was from his droppin’ inta it when he fell.

    He launched inta the air and banked ta strafe us with his acid breath when I called out ta him. We had a brief chat and I made a deal with him. I had no real quarrel with him or him with me. I’ll go me way and he has his fun with the rest of the idiots paid ta protect this ruin. Unfortunately for him, I lied. After adroitly climbin’ up his back in one swift move I plunged me sword inta his back and held on as I went on the wildest flight ever.

    Once we were air born I couldn’t remove the sword or I would lose me only means ta hold on. So I pulled out me dagger and stabbed him with that. Once I removed it I shoved me arm back in ta him. Forced it past his rib cage and grabbed a rib. Then I fished around for somethin’ a little tenderer and found his heart. Dropped like a stone we did.

    Eventually the bastard died for good and I was handsomely rewarded.

    Never did bother ta wash off the mucus and blood from the Black. Want a whiff?

    That should give ya enough of a peek inta me psyche and background. If ya need more just look me up. Brother’s got a tavern in Foothold up in Markshire. I used ta hang out there when I wasn’t searchin’ for another fight.

    • Markshire PCs: Grottle, Gruzk, Ashimar

    *plops down a new sign on his shop counter*

    @Sign on Counter wrote:

    No praying to ODIN allowed!


    *dusts his hands off to the sound of screeching metal*

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