Synopsis
A hearty dwarven man, well into his fifteenth decade, he has got a plethora of scars and wrinkles on his head, and his body is too covered in gear for one to know how much battle he's seen.
Description
He walks with a slight limp in his left leg, further investigation would reveal a severed nerve in his lower left leg, but he doesn't even know that, refusing to have it looked at for his fear of doctors. His body is covered from head to toe in assorted adventuring equipment. With bedrolls and tent-poles, and pots and pans all strapped to the available straps on his leather armour. One would say his armour to be a light class of armour, but after noting the amount of equipment strapped on; they would attribute it to heavy armour. The most notable of his gear are three items, he's got an accordion strapped on his back, right next to an enormous battle axe. On his belt is a finely sewn leather flask, filled with his own brew of whiskey. On the flask is stamped the shape of a unicorn's head, an insignia which is also on his chestpiece, and boots. He has a long and well groomed beard, braided thickly into two braids down his chest, and a large blond mane of hear on his head.
Personality
He seems to greet all around him with a hearty smile, and welcomes any to his side. Though bearing a severe distrust to those in dark robes. When he's not sharing tales with local children or adventurers, he's playing his accordion vibrantly and happily. He's always the first one into the pub and the last to leave, and always with a drink nearby. Come the end of the night, he usually has a room in the nearest inn, and most innkeepers have either met him, or know of him.
Equipment / Abilities
His armour in itself doesn't offer much protection, but with the gear (pots/pans etc.) strapped to it, it ends up acting with the same as a low grade iron armour set.
He carries a massive battle axe and is quite proficient in it's use, it is of a fine dwarven steel, and is well maintained.
He will occasionally resort to throwing his pots and pans at enemies as an effective blunt thrown weapon.
He has a power that he can use once a week, which he calls, "Accordion's Anguish". When preformed; it releases a squeal so high pitched on his accordion as to stun all enemies in a fifty foot radius for upwards of two turns, depending on their endurance. It is super effective when used indoors.
He has an ability that is useable whenever his flask is full. Drunken Frenzy gives him two attacks per turn for three turns. Typically it's only used if he's surrounded, and if he hadn't guzzled all his whiskey on the road. The latter is the most likely of situations, and so the ability is rarely used.
He is a skilled bard, he has a great grasp of local lore, a wonderful sense of direction, he is proficient with his axe, he is good at conversation. Though he has a terrible memory for people, he has no skill with ranged weaponry, he is scarred and humans usually consider him ugly unless they're military veterans as well.
History
Trained as a soldier in Claspwither, he grew up well. As he entered his fiftieth year he was promoted to staff sergeant, and is given a squad of his own. Within three years of his promotion came another promotion, and a proposition of great honor. He was to become a military commander for a new settlement that was being built. The settlement was to be a strong fortress called "Drumportal". Of course, being an opportunist, he jumped on the chance. He was soon leading a squad to Drumportal, in hopes of being renown in his homeland as a hero.
The position went well for eight years, he was sixty-one years old when crisis struck. An elven trade caravan had come to town, and the elves were edgier than usual. Gorund positioned guards near the trade depot, to make sure things went smoothly, soon the trading came to an end and Gorund couldn't have been more relieved. He called the guards off of their post as the elves passed through the gate. Then, the familiar twang of elven bows. The soldiers who were coming in didn't even have time to react, arrows flew in through the open gate and scored four direct hits, killing all four soldiers. Gorund was quick to the reaction though, sending the whole military out with a series of shouts. Soon the entire force was engaged in melee in the main courtyard of the fortress. It was Gorund's worst nightmare. With the way the fortress was surrounded from all angles, he knew his men were doomed. The elves had ascended onto the walls and were raining arrows down. Gorund burst into the courtyard with his personal guard, shouting a rallying call to assemble all his men in the center yard.
After a few minutes of slashing and shielding from arrows, the forty or so dwarves were all that remained of Drumportal guard. Gorund called them into the back of the city, they shield bashed their way away from the front gate, where the attack commenced, into the doors to the inner city, where the civilians lived and worked. As he led his troops back into the deep workings of the city, he shouted to the civilians to follow, and join them on their escape. Though the screams broke out sooner than he would've thought, and his voice was soon drowned out by the screams of the dwarves being beaten down by the elves, who had now begun through into the inner city. The militant dwarves pressed on into the mines, at the far back of the city. Only one dwarf realizing their route and beginning to follow, he never made it before a cave-in sealed him in from both sides, Lokuun Galrah would starve to death in the collapse chamber, merciless elves past the rubble to his left, and fleeing soldiers in the tunnels beyond the rubble to his right.
After several days of continued walk into the woods, all of his soldiers ended up splitting up in different ways. Leaving Gorund alone for the first time in his life. He decided to make his own fate, to move on in the world, and he would be successful for all but one detail, a reminder of his past life. A messenger boy found him one day, and handed him a letter written two years before, and sixty years after his flight from Drumportal, and the dwarven empire entirely. The letter was a letter of discharge, claiming him to have gone AWOL, and his title was renounced. It told him of his replacement, which made him wonder if Drumportal was reclaimed. He discarded the letter and hoped he would never hear again from that place that still haunts his dreams.
It's been another thirty years since the letter, and he's earned a bard's reputation in the land of the humans. The nightmares have ceased and he lives his life happily, taking on small jobs for other folks
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