QUOTE: "I eat, I fuck, and I kill.  Those are the greatest pleasures of life."






NAME: Grune Battleborn

APPEARANCE
Grune is HUGE.  Standing at a towering 7'6 and a solid 360bls of densely packed muscle, Grune strikes an imposing (and intimidating) figure.  He has a strong jaw line (though it is covered by a long blond beard) and his hair is worn long (both his hair and is beard are often braided).  His pale blue eyes are grim looking and have been described as volcanic when he is moved to a rage.  He walks with a long, sure-footed stride as if he were about to barrel through anything in his path and yet, somehow, manages to never run into anyone unless he does so purposely as he moves with an ease more akin to an elf.

He prefers to dress in earthy tones of browns, greens and some black and his clothing is typical of a ranger (leather clothing and armor with cloak) but includes a battle harness for holding additional weapons and tools needed for exploration and overcoming a variety of obstacles (many of these items are of his own design).  He sports deeply tanned skin and most would describe him as ruggedly-handsome.

His voice is a booming bass/baritone as he speaks boisterously and with absolute confidence.  He is fond of singing bawdy songs and is seldom seen without a mug in his hands.  Though he seems to catch little (his attention seems to be easily distracted) he misses very little as his mind is quick and he remembers just about everything he sees and hears.  He is far more intelligent than most realize.

Grune is very fond of jewelry and wears multiple rings, earrings, necklaces, bracelets, etc.  He sports numerous tribal tatoos (inlcuding on his face) and many, MANY scars...of which he is quite proud of and never misses a chance to explain how he got them.

PERSONALITY

General
LOUD and boisterous, Grune loves life and approaches it with gusto.  He drinks, sings, gambles and fucks as often as possible and makes no apologies for his behavior.  To his mind, Death will come for him all too soon and he intends to live enough for a dozen orcs before he's done.  And when Death comes he intends to spit on him even as he offers him a drink.  Life is a grand adventure and the Realms is his playground.

What Pleases Him
Grune sees little order to the world thinking all things are essentially a series of random events.  Even when folk are deliberately controlling things chaos rules supreme as even the best-laid and most orderly plans can be thrown down in a moment's time.  And so he relishes the chaos and lives every moment as if it were his last.  In short, Life pleases him to no end.

What Angers Him
Despite his love of life Grune does see life as brutal and harsh in the extreme.  The world is a place where the strong rule and the weak either serve or perish.  Because of this fatalism he sees a measure of injustice in the world and sometimes decides to combat it.  It's not that he sees the world itself as wrong (the world is what the world is and will remain so long after he is dust) just that Life is worth fighting for and sometimes helping another is a worthwhile cause.

To whit he is most angered by wanton cruelty.  Note that is WANTON cruelty.  He sees no reason to intervene on behalf of a slave who is being punished and does not have the will to fight back...unless that slave is being tortured needlessly or is a child incapable of defending itself.  Then he may intervene.  Likewise, he sees forcing oneself (sexually) onto another as repugnant and will most certainly intervene (real men have no need to force themselves on another).

Personal Relationships
Grune has had many acquaintances and allies but few friends over the years (he seldom remains in an area for long and many associates have died along the way).  His only friend (if he can be called that) is a strange man he met only recently:

Xaeros (LN [E] hm Wiz/Clr): Almost diametrically Grune's opposite in temperament, Xaeros is a quiet, reserved and rather dark-hearted individual.  How these two have taken a liking to each other is anyone's guess but the two of them seem to mesh well and guard each other almost fanatically.

BACKGROUND

The Snow Tiger

Date: 1 Tarsakh 1335 (The Year of the Snow Winds):

The winter had been harsh this year.  Not that the Snow Tiger Tribe wasn't used to such hardship, the winters in the Galena Mountains (especially this close to the Great Glacier) were always bitter-but they had lost people to this cold and that was remarkable given that the tribe was expert at surviving even the deepest winter cold.

And Jarl Deggrod had come raiding this year.  Knowing that the harsh winter would put even the powerful Snow Tigers to the test, the frost giant had raided many of the tribes they had allied with.  Luckily, Chief Ansgar was no fool.  He'd felt the early bite of winter just as everyone else did and had anticipated the raids.  Forming an alliance with the other most influential tribe, the Frostwyrm's, he and Chief Ragar had managed to pull the other tribes of the land into a massive army.

And now the decisive battle was to be fought.  Deggrod hadn't anticipated the stiff resistance but couldn't retreat without losing his hold on his band of giants, ogres and orcs.  The jarl would be forced to fight long enough to lose most of his numbers so that he'd be able to continue bullying the other giants without true resistance.  And Ansgar knew that Deggrod had arrived at the same conclusion.  The giant would lose, retreat, and never be heard from again.

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Now they were in the thick of battle.  Fighting along side his wife, the Shamaness Braega, and his sister Anja, Chief Ansgar had taken the center and the ogres they were up against were about to break and retreat, he could see it in their eyes.  His mighty axe Frostreaver had truly culled their numbers throughout this little war and they were growing fearlul.  Chief Ansgar was an intelligent man, he'd cultivated the rumor that Frostreaver didn't just kill his enemies, but trapped their souls to increase its power.  That was a lie, of course, but there was no denying that giant-kin were falling in droves to the mighty swings of that cursed axe.

Braega and Anja supported him with the magic granted them by mighty Tempus.  Braega stood by her husband and fought every bit as valiantly as he.  As did his sister (the youngest of all his siblings and the only one to survive the years other than him).  She had proven a capable adept under Braega's tutelage but still required their protection (she was barely a woman by the tribe's standards).  Still, she held her own bravely and hadn't a scratch on her as of yet.  She was beautiful as well with piercing blue eyes and long white-blond hair that was already causing the men of the tribes to fight for her hand.

And Ansgar had never known a more intelligent woman either.  As Chief and her elder brother (their father having long since died) it was his decision to give her to a worthy man and he would...if, and only if, she approved of him.  He loved her too much to see her unhappy.  A small break in the fighting saw the two of them briefly look to each other and smile before her brother stole a quick kiss from Braega.  Then the fighting resumed.  This was likely the final push, they thought, as the orcs had been all but eliminated and the ogre's numbers had dwindled substantially.

Ansgar and his wife became hard pressed to hold their ground and they became separated from Anja without realizing it.  Anja was being forced further and further to the left where there own lines had dwindled somewhat.  Their was precious little help there.  Suddenly, the ground gave way beneath Anja and her present opponent and they fell, or rather slid, down a snowy slope.  This particular patch of ground was steep and it took them a good way from the main fight.  Anja, being smaller, had taken quite a beating on the way down but the ogre (who had a vague human look to him, no doubt due to some human ancestry of his own) had taken the fall much easier.

She was only semi-conscious when it happened.  The ogre, knowing the battle was over because that fool of a frost giant hadn't foreseen the might of the human tribes, was out for sport now.  The girl wouldn't put up much of a fight in her condition.  Or so he thought.  He managed the deed, but at the cost of an eye when she swiped a hidden dagger down his ugly face and then took an ear just as quickly.  While he screamed, she managed do get out from under him and run.  The brute gave chase, but then stopped as he saw the Snow Tigers descending the slope after him.

He ran.

Date: 15 Hammer 1336 DR (Year of the Highmantle):

It was unusually cold again this year and the remaining orcs from last year's battles were desperate.  The fools had actually tried to raid the Snow Tigers again!  No doubt this new ogre they called a leader had thought the tribe wouldn't be on their guard after last year's victory.  Or maybe it was just that they were starving and had no other options but to raid or die.  Game had been scarce even for the more powerful human tribes, and again they had lost people.  But they had still persevered.

Ansgar wondered at the plight of the orcs.  Granted, the Chief couldn't care any less about them, but he was an introspective man (a fact that had helped him ascend to Chieftain many years prior) and he thought, not for the first time, that they should have survived easily given their penchant for cannibalizing their own.  Yet here they were at the borders of their tribal grounds attempting to raid his people again.  This has to stop, he thought.  They couldn't keep taking the losses inflicted upon them from two harsh winters and the continued raids.

Ansgar also wondered why the group at his borders weren't actually advancing on his position.  He turned the puzzle over and over in his mind.  They had made forays into his lands, had made half-hearted attempts at his tribe but had vanished each time he pressed his advantage.  Then it struck him, Ansgar was intelligent, quite intelligent in fact, and he began calculating numbers in his head.  He knew the relative strengths of the orc tribes he'd faced over the years and knew their numbers to be severely depleted at the moment.  But this band was tiny even by his calculations.

It was a feint!  Calling his subchief to the fore he gave the man orders to hold the line at all costs and then raced half their numbers back to the village.  What he saw disheartened the man.  They were under attack.  The village guard...and the women...were holding their own, but the orcs had managed to get inside the perimeter and they were fighting desperately.  With a great yell, Ansgar and his men charged into the fray.

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On the far side of the village a woman with a large swollen belly was fighting for her life along side a Shamaness whose magic had already run its course.  Anja, the woman with child, and her brother's wife Braega were fighting off a trio of orcs while a very familiar ogre stood in the background with a huge, slobbering smile on its face.  The orcs had orders to wear them down without killing them so that he could have his sport.  They were to be rewarded after he'd finished.  But these two women fought like banshees and the orcs were hard pressed despite their advantage in size and an extra blade between them.

Almost in unison two of the orcs went down.  One fell before the pregnant woman as she withdrew her sword from its gut.  The other lay on the ground as its life-blood poured from a dagger slash to its throat.  The third orc went into a frenzy of attack but fell only moments later to the blades of the women it charged.  The two women looked up at the ogre and waited for it to advance while they took a moment to catch their breath.  "You've learned your lessons well Anja."  The girl had forced her brother to teach her sword work over the past months despite being with child.  The lessons had paid off.

"I'm about to teach this bastard a lesson as well."  She steadied her breathing as she'd been taught and waited patiently.  The ogre hefted its club and came rushing forward.  It swung the tree branch in a mighty arc in front of it, forcing the women to give ground.  This fight wouldn't be so easy.  "You're going to look funny in the afterlife with no eyes and ears when I'm finished with you!"  The ogre just laughed at that.  So it was smart enough to understand their language.  The women didn't think that was good.

They were hard pressed to deflect its club, especially when the weapon swung in a sideways arc before them but they managed.  Then the brute tripped.  It was only a slight mistake on its part but both women swooped in a struck the beast.  First blood was theirs, even though both wounds were minor at best.  It yelled in a rage and came at them fiercely.  Braega suffered only a glancing blow to the head but it was enough to knock her out.  She fell to the ground like a stone.

Anja knew the battle was over now as it stood over the Shamaness and picked up her sword.  It seemed small in the ogre's hands but he discarded his club and came at her with the blade.  "I'm going to cut my whelp out of you bitch!"  He pressed her again, and this time its attacks were much swifter with the lighter blade in its grip.  She didn't stand a chance and received a cut across her abdomen within seconds of its charge.  Somehow she had managed to back far enough away for the cut to only be superficial.  But the damage was done, she'd soon grow exhausted from the loss of blood.

Then she heard a fierce cry in the distance and realized help had arrived.  If she could just stay away from that sword a few moments longer..."They can't help you now cunt!"  Again it pressed forward and she was forced to run around the hut she lived in to avoid that damned blade.  The brute was smarter than it looked though and ran back around the other way.  Where it received another wound in its gut as Braega stabbed him.  Weak as she was it wasn't a killing strike for the large creature..but it had hurt.

She retreated quickly as she met up with Anja and then they were surprised to see an arrow strike it in the shoulder.  It dropped the sword and pulled the arrow out.  Another arrow grazed its arm.  The women turned quickly to see Ansgar advancing with his bow in hand.  He rarely used the weapon but today was a good day for it.  Another arrow was nocked and loosed at the ogre who managed to dodge it as he picked up his sword and cut at the women while they were distracted.  Anja was his target and she nearly died from a cut aimed at her head.  She leaped in after the swing though and managed a deep cut across his face.

As he pulled back he exposed his torso and she stabbed him in the chest.  His heart may not have been cleaved open but there was no doubt she'd cut it.  The beast swiped with his blade again and cut her deep across the chest...a cut that she would not be able to recover from without Braega's magic.  Magic she no longer had available to her.  Somehow Anja managed another swing as the beast fell to its hands and knees, the nape of its neck exposed.  She cut with all her strength and managed to sever its head.  It simply fell face down in the snow.

Barely able to remain conscious, Anja breathed "My child."  Her breaths were now coming in ragged gasps as her brother came to her and caught her as she fell.  He and his wife realized she was dying when they discovered that her lung had been cut open.  She would bleed to death even if she managed to hold onto consciousness.  Braega did the only thing she could do.  She pulled Anja's dagger from her belt and began cutting the girl open.  She had done it many times before and her cuts were expertly performed.

The woman gasped.  She'd expected an ugly brute of a baby to emerge but this one no such thing.  It had a full head of blond hair and bright blue eyes just like his mother's.  As she held the child up to its mother she said "He's beautiful Anja."   She smiled.  Kissing her baby boy she whispered "Grune" as her eyes closed forever.

Date: 5 Mirtul 1344 DR (Year of the Moonfall):

Grune was still a kid even by the standards of the tribe, but he didn't look like one.  He was taller than most of the other boys who would soon take their Test of Manhood and could beat most of them in a straight fight to boot.  But he was still just a kid, and most of the other boys shied away from him given his heritage though they were...polite.  The boy was also smart, smart enough to know the politeness was born of fear over what he could do to them if they laid in on him.  That and the fact that he was highly favored both by Chief Ansgar and Shamaness Braega.

In short, he was untouchable.  He was also a bit lonely and so was often forced to amuse himself...which he usually did by hunting alone.  He wasn't technically allowed to do so as he hadn't been declared a man yet, but he was certainly capable enough to do it and the truth was he had a wild spirit in him.  His parents had long stopped trying to control the impulsive youth.  They had learned that trying often lead to his disappearing for a few days (and returning with food for the tribe) and his wildness had never lead to a member of the tribe getting hurt.

For his part Grune was usually in good spirits though he approached many things with a grim determination.  He viewed almost everything as a challenge to be overcome and set out to conquer every challenge.  This had included being 'tricked' into feats of daring by the other boys (the truth was Grune was extremely intelligent and well aware of his capabilities and was never really fooled into doing anything).  These episodes always ended with the other boys being amazed by (and jealous of) his abilities.

It was on one of his solo hunts that one of the defining moments of his young life would occur.  He moved slowly through the snow covered trees stalking a wolf that had been injured and (he surmised) unable to keep up with its pack.  But, he noticed two other things almost simultaneously.  Off in the far distance he saw what had to be the largest Snow Tiger ever looking over a ridge to the ground below it.  Below the tiger was a group of orcs wearing what appeared to be wolf pelts.  It was then that he realized the wolf he was stalking hadn't gotten separated from its pack, it had survived an attack by the orcs.

That alone was enough to alarm the boy.  Even a well-armed group of orcs would be hard pressed to stalk and kill an entire pack.  He then realized the orcs were heading toward his village.  As the sun was starting to get low in the sky he also realized they'd have a decent chance of making past the sentries for his tribe had still not recovered from the losses of only a few years ago.  He had to act immediately and broke into a run, startling the wolf in the process.

Like most wolves, its instinct was to run after its quarry when it gave flight.  But Grune stopped, stared it in the eyes and the wolf soon backed away and ran.  Returning to his task Grune took up his stride again and pursued the orcs.  He had only to make it to a certain tree, climb it, and follow one of its largest branches across a ravine to cut them off in an ambush.  Knowing he was well camouflaged and had the sun at his side to blind them should they turn and look he picked up his pace into a full run.  He made his mark in time to climb into a tree above them and waited.

This is where they'll stop to wait for darkness he thought.  It was a tall, thick tree with many other trees both around it and fallen nearby.  It also provided a gully of sorts.  It was the perfect spot to avoid detection.  He withdrew a pair of handaxes as soon as they started the approach.  They did exactly as he anticipated and stopped just below him in the gully.  He studied them for several moments and noted which among them was likely to be the easiest to kill.  It turned out that two of them were very good targets for his initial assault.

An unusually small orc (which was to say a specimen about the size of a normal man) and a female were among them.  Gathered by the way the female was dressed in bones and blood-paint he determined that she must be a shaman.  She would have to be his first target but the other one was standing next to her.  He could take them both quickly and then alert his village to the danger.  He waited for the right moment as they settled in and took long, slow breaths as he did son.  Then he pounced.

Like a mighty Snow Tiger he dropped from his perch onto his chosen victims.  Both went down in heap as he put two handaxes into two skulls simultaneously, leaped off of their prone bodies, and made a dash towards home.  He managed to outpace them for several meters and then spun on his pursuers.  Two handaxes spun into the air, two axes landed in a chest and skull.  One fell immediately, the other fell after a few more feet of running.  Turning back toward home he ran again as he pulled his sword.

Into a thick copse of trees he went as he cursed the orcs loudly to enrage them.  They were in his terrain now.  He knew every tree and bole, shrub and vine.  Every twist and turn, hole and cave.  He made sure they could follow his tracks into a patch of dense shrubs where he grabbed a low branch and climbed.  They passed beneath him and he jumped down and followed.  Just as the realized they'd been tricked he was upon them.

They didn't stand a chance.

He collected eight kills that day, one for every year of his life.  What's more, he'd alerted his tribe with his insulting screams and they were able to fend off many more orcs who had tried to surround their encampment.  Upon seeing the slaughter, Chief Ansgar proclaimed Grune a man and a full member of the Snow Tiger tribe.  No one could offer an argument against his decision.  The boy had shown himself to be an accomplished hunter, and now he'd shown himself not only a capable warrior, but a great tactician as well.

There were some who still did not fully accept him, however.

Date: 24 Marpenoth, 1348 DR (Year of the Spur):

Years went by and the boy acquitted himself well.  But some within the tribe could not see the blessing that was Grune's presence.  The tribe had suffered many losses and some could not get past the fact that it was 'his people' who had diminished many of their numbers.  Most of these naysayers were other youths who were jealous of the boy's prowess, but there were also a good number of the adults who held similar views for many had lost loved ones, including beloved children, to the depredations of orcs and ogres.

Matters were made worse when Grune had partaken in a vision quest (a quest only a true man was supposed to partake in) and had announced that the mighty Snow Tiger was his animal guide.  Many balked at this stating that Ansgar and Breaga must be exerting undue influence on the boy.  It was obvious to many that they favored their adopted son as the next Chief (this much was true) but many could not abide being lead by one of ogre-blood.

Braega had spoken to the elders, however, about visions she'd had of the boys worthiness saying he would accomplish great things.  Most took heed of her words knowing her to be an honorable and brave woman, but there was no denying the grumbling within the tribe regarding his lineage.  Something had to be done...in time.  The day came that another orc attack occurred and, this time, Grune was not there to either warn or help them (being on one of his hunts again).  Many started to cry traitor to him thinking that he was secretly helping the orcs.  Chief Ansgar and his wife knew better, as did most of the elders, but there was nothing to be done.

He wasn't a man yet and thus not a true member of the tribe.  Yet he'd been afforded the full rights of a man by a corrupt chief and a false shaman.  At least, that's what one notable warrior of the tribe was saying, one whose goal was obvious...taking the position of Chief.  A debate, then an argument and then a full fight ensued as a result.  Before long the tribe was at an impasse with relatively half falling on either side of the line.  Just as Chief Ansgar was about to accept a challenge for leadership (a fight he likely would have lost for he was now aging where his rival was young and hale), Grune stood:

"I will settle this," he said.  Many screamed he could not for he had not taken the Test of Manhood.  The test required that a boy leave for at least one moon (lunar month) and return with a trophy of the hunt.  "I will take the test this very night."  Such a bold statement from one so young (only being 12 winters when most waited until 16) to take the Test caused many of the tribe to falter in their arguments against him.  It was unheard of from one so young.  And to take the test with winter upon them had never been done before.  Those who remained against him were certain he would die, or at least they maintained that he would...and then the challenge would be renewed.

Braega only smiled for her divinations had warned her such was coming.  She had told her husband, of course, but even he had begun to disbelieve her wisdom.  The challenge had been made and he could not refuse and still maintain his leadership.  Though he wasn't afraid to die, he would prefer to choose his own successor and Grune had been an ideal choice for the role provided he could win the tribe's support.  He had little doubt that Grune would return even this late in the year.

Grune set out that night  with bow, spear, and knife, his winter clothing, and his courage.  No food or water could go with him.  The moon was full that night, and the wind bitterly cold.  Having hunted with his father on many occasions, Grune knew the region well and he departed for those areas most likely to have Snow Tigers hunting.  For weeks he hunted and fished for his food.  For weeks he found or built shelter from the bitter night cold.  For weeks he tracked the Snow Tiger he had spotted on the horizon the night he left.  Always he would fail to find the tiger's trail until late in the evening or early in the morn.  Always the tiger seemed one step ahead of him.  Always the tiger seemed to be leading him further and further afield.

A full moon passed before he found what he sought.  By then, he had ranged far from his people's traditional hunting grounds.  He had scarcely eaten by that time and was beginning to feel the beginnings of illness and fever.  But he was driven by the vision-quest and could not turn back.  He knew now that this was a test of Will, of Endurance, and soon of Strength.  He peered into the cave, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light, and moved into the cave where it bottle-necked before widening into the tiger's den.  There before him he saw a mighty Snow Tiger and her cub.  She was poised to strike, ready to pounce in an instant and Grune knew she could easily clear the distance between them.  His mind was racing as he scanned the cave for signs of another.

This was not his tiger.

He retreated to the bottle-neck and waited.  His heart was pounding.  His mouth was dry.  His skin was sweating.  But he was calm, ready.  His instincts screamed to look behind him...they were not alone and he knew it.  She pounced.  Up came his spear, braced for the impact.  Deep in her chest the spear bit, narrowly missing the heart.  She clawed at him furiously ripping open his chest.  Out came the knife, opening her throat with one clean swipe.  Within moments she was dead.

He pushed her off the spear, the haft having broken within her breast.  He turned, knife in hand, to the low growl he heard behind him.  There he was...magnificent in his power.  His muscles rippling beneath his coat, fangs the size of daggers promising him only a few more moments of life.

His tiger.

It let out a roar that set the ears to ringing, long and mighty as it was.  Grune had never known what peace was.  The unyielding specter of death always loomed on the tundra.  Many had he seen die giving birth, their own children as still as they were.  Many had he known who died of illness or accident or during the hunt.  He did not fear death, it was a simple fact of life.  But this was not some stoic preparation for the inevitable.  He simply knew the peace that comes with the acceptance of one's fate.  He would not leave here.  This area would not afford him protection.  The tigress lay behind him, blocking the narrow passage.  His tiger was close though and would not be able to leap at him.  It would have to rear up or reach out and swipe.

Man and tiger looked upon one another, peering into the eyes of the one before him, both poised for the strike.  Grune acted first, attempting to distract the tiger with the broken spear shaft.  The tiger barely registered the broken spear as he batted the useless thing away.  Grune countered with a swipe of his knife.  He felt the searing sting of his opponent's claws across his face, but not before his knife drew blood across the tiger's as well.  He staggered back under the shear strength of that claw.  Blood stung his eyes.  Still he swiped with the knife as he wiped the blood from his face...only to see the tiger regarding him calmly.  Again they looked upon one another, this time seeming to peer deeply one into the other.  Again the tiger roared.

This time the very stone seemed to tremble with the force of it.

Grune awoke to a strange tickling sensation on his face.  He shook his head, blinked his eyes, and stared into the icy blue orbs of a tiger cub.  It let out a low growl, pale in comparison to its sire...but strong nonetheless.  He rubbed the nape of its neck heartily and the cub began to purr with pleasure.  Grune took stock of the situation.  He needed to eat and he would need more clothing.  He could still feel the fever of sickness upon his skin and the cub would have to be cared for as well.  He ate well off the 600 pounds of flesh he had won that day and it lasted through the rest of the winter until he returned to his people.  Furthermore, the tiger's durable hide made a fine barrier to the chill.

He remained in the den for another month recovering from his wounds and his illness.  The cub proved a great asset with its keen senses and seemed very intelligent for an animal.  Grune swore there were times when he knew what the cub was thinking.  He saw no signs of the other tiger and it did not return but he knew it was out there.  Among his people it is believed that when a man and an animal shed each other's blood, they become part of one another.  Grune did not know if this was true.  What he did know was he would return with proof of his vision-quest.

Three months he spent away from his people.  Many thought him dead and even his father had secretly begun to harbor doubts.  Only his mother seemed to know he would return.  Most whispered that it was simply a mother's desperate desire to deny the truth, but it was hard to deny her simple conviction on the matter.  "You will see" was all she would say.  And return he did.

Shortly before the evening meal when most of the tribe was gathered together, his mother having strangely set an extra portion aside, Grune walked into the camp unannounced.  Wearing a tiger's hide and carrying a cub in his arms it was impossible to deny the omen.  Grune was blessed by their spirit totem and the celebration lasted long into the night.  As the months passed, Snowfang grew into a mighty tiger and, though it seldom spent its time among the tribe, Snowfang always joined Grune on his daily hunts and the tribe ate well.

But there was one more problem Grune felt compelled to remedy.  A few days later he approached his Father's challenger, Goranagar, and backhanded the man hard across his face.  It was an unspoken challenge filled with disdain for the one so struck and it could not go unanswered.  Goranagar simply nodded his head and retrieved his sword while Grune waited for him with his own.  Grune's victory was hard-won as Goranagar was a seasoned warrior and hunter.  Only Grune's shear size and quick thinking won him that victory though he was left with yet another scar (this one across his stomach).

Had Goranagar won that day he likely would have become Chief.  Perhaps things would have turned out differently for the tribe had he been...

Date: 4 Flamerule, 1352 DR (Year of the Dragon):

Despite the savagery of the Galena Mountains, Vaasa, and the Great Glacier, life was good for Grune.  His father had proclaimed him Sub-Chief the night he returned four years ago and he had grown taller than any man in the tribe (he never seemed to stop growing!).  He was accepted by everyone in the tribe and had even found love in the storm-tempered woman that was Kara.  She was tall, buxom and beautiful with dark red hair and bright blue eyes.  Their relationship was a stormy one but filled with love for each other.  He had taken her to wife on his nameday only a few months prior and she was already with child.  From the looks of it she was due to birth a boy the size of an ox.

It was at the height of the summer that an envoy of strange men came into the tribe's camp and asked to speak with the Chief.  Ansgar had grown sickly of late and wasn't expected to live past the next winter, but his mind was still sharp and he was capable of receiving their guests alongside the Elders.  As the tribe's maktig (champion) and sub-chief, Grune sat to his adoptive father's right side, his large bastard sword sitting across his knees in case there was need of it.

By this time the Snow Tiger's had begun to recover some of their strength (due in no small part to Grune and his tiger's hunting prowess) but they were no longer the preeminent tribe among the Glaciermen.  There had been rumors coming out of Vaasa of a strange army consisting of many giants, goblinkin and tribes of men banding together under the banner of a witch.  The envoy made the Snow Tigers an offer of gold and glory if only they would join them in a great crusade against the 'heathens' of Damara.  In the end, the Elders agreed unanimously that they wanted no part of their war.

It was the right thing to do but their decision had dire consequences...

Later that night Grune was out on patrol when he heard screams coming from the village (he was to the village's south when the attack came from the north).  He and Snowfang ran to the village and found it set afire and his people being slaughtered.  They sprang into action against the first group of assailants they came across.  Those men were dead before they even realized they were in danger.  They took another two groups out when they found his adoptive parents and some of the other Elders being killed by a man on a horse who was speaking in the bizarre language of magic.  He was flanked by another man wearing a ram-skull helmet.

Grune charged in knowing he would die, but then life here had always been dangerous.  At least he would die a good death.  Snowfang followed and they cut several more men down before the strange duo turned toward them and cast magic upon them.  They froze in place, unable to move or scream.  Grune looked at them with hatred in his eyes but, for the first time in his young life, was helpless to do anything.  More magic washed over him and he knew only darkness.

He awoke some time later on a ship being tossed in a rough sea.  He grew horribly ill and wretched for what seemed like years.  He noted, also, that Snowfang was kept in a cage nearby.  He himself was manacled and fettered by extremely thick chains to a wall of the ship he was on.  Being severely weakened by his illness and having been fed only rotten food he'd been unable to break free.  Snowfang, however, was well-fed though their captors gave him a wide berth.  Many of the Snow Tiger's meals were of the dead slaves who didn't make it to their destination...

Date: 27 Uktar 1355 DR (The Year of the Harp):

Three years.  Well, three and a half years he'd been a slave.  Originally sent to the iron mines used to supply the city of Akanax, Grune toiled under the harsh conditions of that brutal place and watched as every other slave brought to the mines died one by one.  He had eventually come to be well treated and was fed far better than the others for Grune could do the work of 10 men with nary a drop of sweat to show for it.

He'd also made a friend there by the name of Hendar.  Like him, Hendar hailed from far north of their present location and was extremely large and strong as well.  The two were also looking for the right time to escape.  A time, they believed, was coming today.

It seemed a man named Ako was coming to review the slaves today and was known for buying worthy slaves to train as gladiators.  It also seemed that their overseer was keeping them well away from Ako for he didn't want to lose the two strongest men he had.  So Grune and Hendar staged a little demonstration for Ako's benefit and began fighting in earnest when it appeared the man was leaving without a purchase.

The scene they caused (for they had convinced the other slaves to cheer them on when they started to fight) caught the attention of Ako and his man Agron.  The two men fought like a pair of lions contesting for leadership of a pride and Ako left with both men (at a hefty price).

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Initially the pair tried to escape numerous times but were coaxed to work for their master.  They enjoyed a good position with their master and were trained as warriors by the able hands (and whip!) of the mighty Agron, a former gladiatorial champion.

Ako and those who worked for him had seen everything when it came to attempting to escape and Grune was never able to outwit them.  What's more, they had allowed him to watch as the other slaves had been transformed from mere men into true warriors of the arena.  He had envied their transformation and had initially been unable to beat these men in a straight fight.

Back in the Galena's he'd thought himself a mighty warrior and indeed he was by their standards.  But these men were something different.  These men lived and breathed battle and earned their positions through blood and sweat.  He had much to learn it seemed.  And learn he would.

For months he and Hendar trained their only solace the caress of the whip.  For months they embraced the whip as it molded them into warriors unmatched in their respective homelands.  For months they endured the painful transformation from men into gladiators.

And now, three and a half years after his capture he was about to earn the mark of the House Ako.  He had only to beat one of the gladiators in combat (he would be killed otherwise).  But Grune knew that he would win for he had risen to the challenge and now only Gorn could best him during training.  His confidence waivered, however, when he learned that Gorn was to be his test.

There was no doubting that Gorn was a veteran of the pits and the arena for he had bested every opponent he'd faced for the past year and was favored to become a champion soon.  Luckily any tactic used to win was fair game and Gorn foolishly turned his back on Grune as he approached the sands.  Grune quickly stooped down and grabbed a handful of sand as he retrieved a shield and his sword.

The two began fighting and it was soon obvious that Grune was outmatched.  Part of this was the fact that he couldn't grip his shield properly while clenching the sand in his fist.  But it was part of his ruse.  As Gorn pressed him he allowed his shield to fall from his hand.  Deflecting a killing blow from his opponent directly thereafter, Grune threw the sand into his opponents eyes and disarmed him.  He soon had Gorn on his back at the mercy of his blade.

Having bested his opponent in the test Grune received the stylized 'A' on his left shoulder as a sign of his acceptance into the House and became a full brother to the other gladiators.  Gorn himself congratulated him on his victory.  It would be a few months before he'd receive his first real fight though.

A fight that would again change the course of his life...

GOALS
Grune has no goals outside of survival and living his life to its fullest.  He does have ideas in his head of ruling his own kingdom (or a city-state at least) but has not formalized any plan to achieve such a lofty goal at this time.  For the present he is content to simply live and see what the gods have in store for him.