Gorath the Strong
03-18-07, 09:53 PM
((Said in the voice of a Dwarven Male of the Kachuck Mines))
Name: Calls himself, Gorath the Strong and rightly so if you ask me.
Age: We thinks he be about 47 years of age, or so. Perhaps give or take a few years, probably give.
Height: A towering Seven feet, Eight inches this man. If he even is a man.
Weight: A staggering 300 pounds of pure muscle. ‘Bout pounded me in the ground one night, just by sittin’ on me.
Eye Color: A deep blue, which isn’t surprising given this human folk. Although that raises the question on whether he even is human, or not.
Hair Color: A shear black, like the deepest and darkest part of the ol’ mine. Beautiful that.
Beard Color: Strangely, a dull redish orange color. Natural too. Reminds me a bit of my father, long dead he be though. Best not to bring back them old memories.
Hair Length: Last time it was measured, a whole six weeks ago mind, it was about four feet long. The way this brute grows his hair though, it might be longer!
Beard Length: A dwarves pride and joy this is! His tops ours only because of his height, the crazy bastard! A full six feet long! Braided of course, so as to not step on it, although he manages even that from time to time.
Noticable Appearance Characteristics: Well, aside from his immense height, I’d have to say it be the fact that this brute has four arms! I’m talking independent, perfectly normal, positioned one right above the other, on either side of his chest, a whole two more than should be there, arms! Took me and my comrades by complete surprise when we found the tike some forty years back. A wee tike he was then, barely higher than my waist, but ho boy, you should’ve seen him go at it! A beautiful thing that. Seeing two dwarves get man handled by a tike no higher then your waist! Oh ha, good times those were. Never really got over those two, still pickin’ on them to this day. Well, aside from those two interesting characteristics, he’s pretty much your average looking human. Small nose, slightly larger mouth. Large ears, although those are hidden quite well by his hair. Wide eyes, spaced almost evenly in middle of his face. Nice teeth too. Can see them pearly whites from half way up the shaft if he catches the light right, ha! Big guy. I mean, big guy. He’d match a dwarf strength for strength any day in the ring. Thank meself for that one, seeing as I put him straight to the mines when we got back. Seemed the best thing to do for the tike. No one else wanted him, thought he was an abomination. Poor tike. Oh well. Everyone respects him now. After he saved all them dwarves from the collapse an all. But that’s for a bit later, gotta finish up this other stuff first!
Clothing: Let’s see, what’s next? Oh, yes. Well, um, see, that’s the thing. When we found him, the only thing he had on was this little…uhhh…cloth. Went around his waist like…so, and it covered…Well, you get the point. Anyway, us being the decent and modern folk we are, we figured we’d give the tike something acceptable to wear and as he grew, we gave him more. Tore those clothes apart he did. That he did, and quite well too I should say. Never seen so many shirts go into the forge fires as did that tikes. I think he has on some standard stuff now, as his work cloths are in the fixen for a good fix, and his formal cloths still getting over that big wedding last week. Last I saw of him, he was dressed in a cream colored long sleeve shirt, with four sleeves, a bit of lace at the color and wrists. Some nice black leather breeches, none to tight mind, and some nice calve high leather boots. Them were black too as I recall, but that might be because he stumbled into a tar pit…I don’t know.
Armor: What’s this? Armor? Well, seeing as we haven’t gone to war in what seems forever, he don’t have any. I’d like to see someone try and make some though, so we dwarves can laugh at them and show how it’s really done! Har ha!
Weapons: Only weapon I’ve ever seen this tike wield was a pick axe, and that was only to move it out of his way. Mainly used him as a hauler and he liked it so much that when he came of age and was given a choice, he decided to stay there and keep going. Couldn’t blame the tike, don’t think he would have much liked to live down in those deep tunnels. Can get a bit spooky down there, and the poor tike’s a bit loose up in the head, if you know what I mean. Other than that, I'd say your biggest concern is the fact that he does have four arms. If your lucky, he won't catch you and if your unlucky...well, who's to say what could happen, aye?
Skills/Abilities: If you let him, he’ll hit you so hard you won’t remember anything after last Sunday. And that’s a glancing blow. Well, seeing as he’s worked in the mines for most of his natural life as a hauler, I’d have to say he doesn’t have much in the way of skills or abilities other than he can push almost thrice his body weight, at an up hill slant of thirty degrees with relative ease. Given there are adequate foot holds and there ain’t nothing falling down atop him. Straight up and down he could probably life one and a half times his weight, and then throw that a good seven or eight feet straight. Perhaps ten if he used all his arms. I think though, if he got into a scrape large enough to call a fight, he’d be able to hold his own quite well. He seems to have a fighters sense about him that one. I’ve always wondered how well he would do if I gave him a good dwarves Axe.
EDIT :: *splutters and sprays ale across himself and the table*
Ack, well, mebe you caught me in my little lie. He ain't quite as strong as I says he is, use that mostly as an ego boost for the kid. He really ain't much stronger than yourself there. What do you weigh, one fifty? Close to? Mya, he's probably close to half again as strong as you so, who cares eh? He'll still kick your ass any day.
Brief History of Species: From what me and my comrades can tell, he’s one of a kind. Looked for some fifteen years we did, combin’ the surrounding countryside and mountains, looking for any sign of anyone who could call him son. Fifteen years, and not a sign of anything, or anyone. We haven’t come up with a name yet, and our leading ‘experts,’ if they can be called that at all, bunch of pompous fools that lot, can’t find any reference of his kind in any of their texts. They say they’ve been looking for almost thirty-five years, but I’ll be shaved and called a coward if they haven’t put a single week into finding out anything about the poor bastard. Whoever, or whatever he is though, they aren’t the brightest creatures intellectually wise, but he is smart, in a way. Tell him to do something and how to do it and he’ll remember, and get it right every time after that. I guess that means he’s got a sharp memory too. I’ve only seen him get lost once, and that was when he was first placed in the mines. Can’t hardly speak a lick of common, but he seems to have dwarves pretty down pat, although his grammar and syntax seem to be a bit off, but we don’t mind. Not much anyway. It’s hard to hold a meaningful conversation with someone who acts like a dope, even if he don’t quite mean to be most of the time.
Breif History of Gorath the Strong: Well, like I said, we found him as a little guy, only about waist high to me, and I was the shortest of us when we found him. Took a while to get him down. We was so surprised to see him there, standing over us when we woke up for our morning meal, that we panicked and more or less attacked him. Took us a moment to realize he didn’t mean us no harm, but by that time he had already neatly fended off Dor and Norath and was busy keeping Ulra from getting all arms. I came in and gave him a good whack to the back of the head and he was down and out for a good eight hours. By that time we had him good and tied and were well on our way back to base camp. Strangely he didn’t try to escape, as most of us thought he would. He just sat there, bound and gagged like he was, and stare at us curiously, tilting his head this way and that, shifting now and then. Eventually we untied him and asked him a few questions. Should’a known he wouldn’t answer us, finding him in the wild like that and all, but we asked and got nothing. Next day we packed up and headed out, leaving him behind, figuring if he survived this long, he’d be able to survive without us but by the time we lost sight of the camp site, he caught sight of us and ran along behind us. We couldn’t do much but let him come along or else tie him up again, but most of us figured he’d find us again eventually and might not be of the kind nature a second time. So, needless to say, we brought him along and when we got home we put him to work in the mines, because no one in the party, or anyone else for that matter, would take him in. He ate, slept and even bathed in those mines for the first year or so before I finally gave in a let him stay with me. By this time he was almost as tall as my shoulder, and getting taller by the month. Five years later he reached his full height, skinny as a rail he was then but under my care and the hard work of the mines, he fleshed out well enough. No fat on that lad, what with all that hard work and good dwarves food. I myself won two cooking trophies at the annual festival. Mighty proud of those. Well, like most of his type, if there are those of his type, he was getting more and more restless with each passing day until one day he asked me straight out, as he was hauling me and a car of mythril up the shaft to the armoire, if he could go out and explore the world. Took me some time to answer him, but I did, saying he could, only if he let me go with him, as he was still too young to be venturing out by his own. And well, about three days later we set out, with some heartfelt good byes from the folk who had come to really know and like him, and we find ourselves here, staring you in the face, answering some dopy questions and giving out information no sane man would ever really want to give out. So, what’ll it be, eh? Oh, and one more thing, you got a drink? I’m feeling a little empty. It’s been an hour since my last keg, and I need a quick fix.
NOTES :: Just so you know, the dwarf is accompanying him but will not partake in any battles and only be a voice of reason in quests. Think of him as his dad or something. Which he kinda is, really.
Name: Calls himself, Gorath the Strong and rightly so if you ask me.
Age: We thinks he be about 47 years of age, or so. Perhaps give or take a few years, probably give.
Height: A towering Seven feet, Eight inches this man. If he even is a man.
Weight: A staggering 300 pounds of pure muscle. ‘Bout pounded me in the ground one night, just by sittin’ on me.
Eye Color: A deep blue, which isn’t surprising given this human folk. Although that raises the question on whether he even is human, or not.
Hair Color: A shear black, like the deepest and darkest part of the ol’ mine. Beautiful that.
Beard Color: Strangely, a dull redish orange color. Natural too. Reminds me a bit of my father, long dead he be though. Best not to bring back them old memories.
Hair Length: Last time it was measured, a whole six weeks ago mind, it was about four feet long. The way this brute grows his hair though, it might be longer!
Beard Length: A dwarves pride and joy this is! His tops ours only because of his height, the crazy bastard! A full six feet long! Braided of course, so as to not step on it, although he manages even that from time to time.
Noticable Appearance Characteristics: Well, aside from his immense height, I’d have to say it be the fact that this brute has four arms! I’m talking independent, perfectly normal, positioned one right above the other, on either side of his chest, a whole two more than should be there, arms! Took me and my comrades by complete surprise when we found the tike some forty years back. A wee tike he was then, barely higher than my waist, but ho boy, you should’ve seen him go at it! A beautiful thing that. Seeing two dwarves get man handled by a tike no higher then your waist! Oh ha, good times those were. Never really got over those two, still pickin’ on them to this day. Well, aside from those two interesting characteristics, he’s pretty much your average looking human. Small nose, slightly larger mouth. Large ears, although those are hidden quite well by his hair. Wide eyes, spaced almost evenly in middle of his face. Nice teeth too. Can see them pearly whites from half way up the shaft if he catches the light right, ha! Big guy. I mean, big guy. He’d match a dwarf strength for strength any day in the ring. Thank meself for that one, seeing as I put him straight to the mines when we got back. Seemed the best thing to do for the tike. No one else wanted him, thought he was an abomination. Poor tike. Oh well. Everyone respects him now. After he saved all them dwarves from the collapse an all. But that’s for a bit later, gotta finish up this other stuff first!
Clothing: Let’s see, what’s next? Oh, yes. Well, um, see, that’s the thing. When we found him, the only thing he had on was this little…uhhh…cloth. Went around his waist like…so, and it covered…Well, you get the point. Anyway, us being the decent and modern folk we are, we figured we’d give the tike something acceptable to wear and as he grew, we gave him more. Tore those clothes apart he did. That he did, and quite well too I should say. Never seen so many shirts go into the forge fires as did that tikes. I think he has on some standard stuff now, as his work cloths are in the fixen for a good fix, and his formal cloths still getting over that big wedding last week. Last I saw of him, he was dressed in a cream colored long sleeve shirt, with four sleeves, a bit of lace at the color and wrists. Some nice black leather breeches, none to tight mind, and some nice calve high leather boots. Them were black too as I recall, but that might be because he stumbled into a tar pit…I don’t know.
Armor: What’s this? Armor? Well, seeing as we haven’t gone to war in what seems forever, he don’t have any. I’d like to see someone try and make some though, so we dwarves can laugh at them and show how it’s really done! Har ha!
Weapons: Only weapon I’ve ever seen this tike wield was a pick axe, and that was only to move it out of his way. Mainly used him as a hauler and he liked it so much that when he came of age and was given a choice, he decided to stay there and keep going. Couldn’t blame the tike, don’t think he would have much liked to live down in those deep tunnels. Can get a bit spooky down there, and the poor tike’s a bit loose up in the head, if you know what I mean. Other than that, I'd say your biggest concern is the fact that he does have four arms. If your lucky, he won't catch you and if your unlucky...well, who's to say what could happen, aye?
Skills/Abilities: If you let him, he’ll hit you so hard you won’t remember anything after last Sunday. And that’s a glancing blow. Well, seeing as he’s worked in the mines for most of his natural life as a hauler, I’d have to say he doesn’t have much in the way of skills or abilities other than he can push almost thrice his body weight, at an up hill slant of thirty degrees with relative ease. Given there are adequate foot holds and there ain’t nothing falling down atop him. Straight up and down he could probably life one and a half times his weight, and then throw that a good seven or eight feet straight. Perhaps ten if he used all his arms. I think though, if he got into a scrape large enough to call a fight, he’d be able to hold his own quite well. He seems to have a fighters sense about him that one. I’ve always wondered how well he would do if I gave him a good dwarves Axe.
EDIT :: *splutters and sprays ale across himself and the table*
Ack, well, mebe you caught me in my little lie. He ain't quite as strong as I says he is, use that mostly as an ego boost for the kid. He really ain't much stronger than yourself there. What do you weigh, one fifty? Close to? Mya, he's probably close to half again as strong as you so, who cares eh? He'll still kick your ass any day.
Brief History of Species: From what me and my comrades can tell, he’s one of a kind. Looked for some fifteen years we did, combin’ the surrounding countryside and mountains, looking for any sign of anyone who could call him son. Fifteen years, and not a sign of anything, or anyone. We haven’t come up with a name yet, and our leading ‘experts,’ if they can be called that at all, bunch of pompous fools that lot, can’t find any reference of his kind in any of their texts. They say they’ve been looking for almost thirty-five years, but I’ll be shaved and called a coward if they haven’t put a single week into finding out anything about the poor bastard. Whoever, or whatever he is though, they aren’t the brightest creatures intellectually wise, but he is smart, in a way. Tell him to do something and how to do it and he’ll remember, and get it right every time after that. I guess that means he’s got a sharp memory too. I’ve only seen him get lost once, and that was when he was first placed in the mines. Can’t hardly speak a lick of common, but he seems to have dwarves pretty down pat, although his grammar and syntax seem to be a bit off, but we don’t mind. Not much anyway. It’s hard to hold a meaningful conversation with someone who acts like a dope, even if he don’t quite mean to be most of the time.
Breif History of Gorath the Strong: Well, like I said, we found him as a little guy, only about waist high to me, and I was the shortest of us when we found him. Took a while to get him down. We was so surprised to see him there, standing over us when we woke up for our morning meal, that we panicked and more or less attacked him. Took us a moment to realize he didn’t mean us no harm, but by that time he had already neatly fended off Dor and Norath and was busy keeping Ulra from getting all arms. I came in and gave him a good whack to the back of the head and he was down and out for a good eight hours. By that time we had him good and tied and were well on our way back to base camp. Strangely he didn’t try to escape, as most of us thought he would. He just sat there, bound and gagged like he was, and stare at us curiously, tilting his head this way and that, shifting now and then. Eventually we untied him and asked him a few questions. Should’a known he wouldn’t answer us, finding him in the wild like that and all, but we asked and got nothing. Next day we packed up and headed out, leaving him behind, figuring if he survived this long, he’d be able to survive without us but by the time we lost sight of the camp site, he caught sight of us and ran along behind us. We couldn’t do much but let him come along or else tie him up again, but most of us figured he’d find us again eventually and might not be of the kind nature a second time. So, needless to say, we brought him along and when we got home we put him to work in the mines, because no one in the party, or anyone else for that matter, would take him in. He ate, slept and even bathed in those mines for the first year or so before I finally gave in a let him stay with me. By this time he was almost as tall as my shoulder, and getting taller by the month. Five years later he reached his full height, skinny as a rail he was then but under my care and the hard work of the mines, he fleshed out well enough. No fat on that lad, what with all that hard work and good dwarves food. I myself won two cooking trophies at the annual festival. Mighty proud of those. Well, like most of his type, if there are those of his type, he was getting more and more restless with each passing day until one day he asked me straight out, as he was hauling me and a car of mythril up the shaft to the armoire, if he could go out and explore the world. Took me some time to answer him, but I did, saying he could, only if he let me go with him, as he was still too young to be venturing out by his own. And well, about three days later we set out, with some heartfelt good byes from the folk who had come to really know and like him, and we find ourselves here, staring you in the face, answering some dopy questions and giving out information no sane man would ever really want to give out. So, what’ll it be, eh? Oh, and one more thing, you got a drink? I’m feeling a little empty. It’s been an hour since my last keg, and I need a quick fix.
NOTES :: Just so you know, the dwarf is accompanying him but will not partake in any battles and only be a voice of reason in quests. Think of him as his dad or something. Which he kinda is, really.