The Birth of the Great Barbarian Grimgor Rottenfoot
In a distant land on the far side of the world a hard wind blew.  The snow falling down in a cascade of white blinding fury making it impossible for the hero of yesteryear to see more than a few inches in front of him.  A huge strong and gnarled hand scarred by decades of war and turmoil was held up in front of his face to help shield some of the piercing wetness that was clinging to his thick black eyebrows and his long braided beard.  He wore a thick cloak of Blink Dog fur ripped from the carcass of that retched beast that had slain his one and only companion on the Plains of Oblivion.  So immense was his rage at the accursed Blink Dog that our hero ripped it’s throat out with his bare hands and drank from the gore still coursing through the shredded flesh.  A memory he would not soon forget but a memory that reminded him of how weak he had truly become.
“Hmph…” he grunted as he came over the crest of the peak he had to conquer in order to move on with the rest of his journey, and paused.  So beautiful was the view even a man who’s heart had been scarred by the blackest of actions any mortal could partake in had no choice but to stop and stare in awe at the sheer magnificence of the God’s creation on the mortal plane.  After a moment he began rummaging through the worn leather sack he carried on his back and began looking for some trail rations.  Grunting with success he brought out the last of the Blink Dog meat he had saved, now frozen by the sheer cold.  Slowly he began gnawing on the rancid flesh, which was still better than starving to death in a frozen wasteland.  Knowing if he stayed still for much longer he would freeze where he stood our hero continued downwards towards a settlement just on the edge of the horizon.  At least, he hoped it was.

Grimgor Rottenfoot was born to noble parents or as noble as possible for people of their position and downtrodden name.  Regardless of Grimgors’ parents he was raised much the same as the other children in the village.  He could best most any male child in any physical venture they chose to undertake that day.  His most favorite of which involved a game where the player had to run through the others without being tackled, all to bring a ball made of a pigs stomach across a line drawn in the sand.  In his village, there was no one better.  
One evening the wind blew steadily as if it were beating down upon their homes trying to give some sense of foreboding.     The few guards there were in the village oft spent their entire evening in the small tavern that served both as meeting hall and lodge to the entire village.  Lost in a drunken stupor they were often worthless even for helping with the most menial of tasks.  That left only the old men to keep watch over the entire village.  More often than not this would not have been a problem as they lived in a quiet village frequently ignored by the Empire, and typically neglected by the dark hordes save for a few missing sheep to the local goblins.  As midnight came it was time even for the old men of the village to lay to rest and one by one the watch lanterns grew dim before going out completely.  


Having traveled for eleven nights to get to this small settlement the weary traveler finally made his way into the village.  His first thought was to get to the tavern to inquire about a place to rest with a warm fire and perhaps a warm woman, at least if his money was good here this time.  Half walking and half stumbling into the tavern he approached the keeper.
“Is there a room available for the night my good man?”
The keeper was a small broken shell of a man.  His back crooked from the years of hard labor.  One eye covered by an eye patch, his other looking the man up and down trying to read him almost as if he should have recognized who he was but could not quite place him.
“Aye” said the keeper after a moment of hesitation   ” tis but 3 copper pieces lad.  If ye make it 5 I’ll throw in a bowl of me goblin eye soup.”
“Goblin eye soup?”
“Aye…don’t ye go askin what it is ye ‘now? “
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Smirked the patron as a 5 copper pieces clinked down upon the smooth marble bar.
The keeper picked them up and one by one bit them to try and see if they were real.  So pure was the copper that when the keeper bit down upon them they bent in twain where his teeth had been.  “Yer room is up ‘de stairs m’ Lord. Second door on yer right.”  The entire time the keeper was bowing and motioning for the bowl of soup.  “I’ll have yer soup right up to ye m’ Lord.  We is to get ye a hot bowl.”
“Thank you my good man” as he tossed a few more copper pieces onto the bar.  “make that two?”
“Of course m’ Lord! Of course!”
Both men went their separate ways and after having his two bowls of soup our weary traveler finally laid down to rest in the most luxurious bed in the tavern, one made of hay.


Had any guards been left awake in the town they would have heard the slightest of sounds coming from just outside the city walls.  This however was not missed by Grimgor as he bolted up in his bed and ran to the window to see what it was.  His superior night vision allowed him to see that there was a gathering of Imperial soldiers gathering outside of the town on horseback.  They had always come during the day, and stayed outside of the village at night when they made their monthly patrols so as not to disturb the villagers.  Something had to be very wrong for them to be readying themselves in such a manner.
Grimgor ran from his room to his parent’s door and beat upon it like a child possessed.  
“Father! Mother! Wake up! Wake up! Something is happening outside!”
“Go back to sleep boy! Tis just your imagination!”
“But father! I….”
“I said go back to sleep!” at that what sounded like a boot smashed against the door and Grimgor giving up ran back to his room and got dressed.
Grimgor ran down the stairs as quietly as a half-orc child could do and grabbed his mothers cooking knife and sheathed it in his travel pouch and ran off to try to wake the sleeping guards in the tavern.
Arriving at the tavern Grimgor beat upon the door “Get up! Get up! The Empire is here! Quickly wake up!”
So full of elvyn wyne the guards would surely not awaken and the old men could care less about a child’s cries that did not belong to one of their own grandchildren.  Only one man awoke, the weary traveler, and he threw open the shutters to the window in his room.  Looking down he saw the unsightly half-orc child beating on the door, and he thought he saw the glint of steel in the boys pouch but thought nothing of it.  “What do you want…BOY!?”  Grimgor suddenly stopped beating on the door and looked up to see who had called to him.  “The Empire is coming sir! I saw them! Just outside of the village!  They are in their armor too!”  “Wait right there I am coming down immediately!”  At that the adventurer turned and darted out of site, the sound of armor being donned quiet, but not too quiet to be heard.
The door to the tavern swung open and Grimgor would have been knocked off of his feet had his reflexes not been fast enough.  The adventurer looked at him and inquired “From which direction do they come boy?” Grimgor pointed to the West and at that the man laid his head down upon the ground firmly pressing his ear there as if listening.  “They are on horseback!  Quickly sound the alarm they are in full charge!”  Grimgor turned and bolted for the church and after hurling himself at the doors to smash them open began ringing the bells as loudly and quickly as he could.  This just had to wake up the village!
In a flash the lights in the village began turning on people started coming out of their homes in their sleeping garments only to be greeted by the unknown man standing in the square in Full-Plate armor with a huge flaming broad sword.  “To ARMS!” the man shouted “The Empire has come to destroy you all! Quickly get the militia assembled!”  The townsfolk simply stared at him in disbelief.  After all who was going to attack them here?  They have done nothing wrong, they have supported the empire’s soldiers when necessary every month.  What could the empire possibly want to attack them for?  
With that the villagers slowly began to return to their homes ignoring the call to arms.  At this the man began to speak at the top of his lungs “I am Ironlung Kening and I am calling upon all good citizens of the Empire here in this town to come to arms and defend yourselves!  I know not for why you are being attacked but I will defend thee to the last man, woman, or child!” Apparently Grimgor had somehow managed to return to his side and on the man’s last word he looked to him and nodded approvingly.  Grimgor had managed to get his hands on a small hand axe apparently from the wooden chopping block in the church.
Such authority did this man possess that the villagers quickly ran to their homes and returned with their arms and armor ready to defend their town from the worst.  The Ironlung turned to Grimgor and shouted “Tell them what you saw boy!”  Grimgor hesitated but when Ironlung slapped him on the back he began to blurt out his words so quickly that he had to repeat them thrice.  
Eventually the townspeople prepared for battle by positioning themselves around the town square, with Ironlung Kening standing in the middle ready to beckon any challenger.

Over the heavy breathing of the townspeople soon could be heard the low drumming of a two hundred hooves beating down upon the city.  The dust from the charging cavalrymen was blocking the moonlight and obscuring the vision of the villagers.
“Wait for it!” Ironlung yelled at the few archers they had.  “Wait for it!”
The cavalrymen were getting closer, you could hear the horses snorting, you could see what little moonlight there was glistening off of their armor, and you could smell the most god awful smell that forced nearly half of the villagers to drop their bows and start retching.  Grimgor just stared in awe as Ironlung grabbed the nearest bow and shouted “FIRE!!!!”  A volley of 10 arrows glided towards the approaching enemy.  Only two found themselves a home in the flesh of their enemies and only one fell, his horse tumbling and tripping up another attacker’s animal forcing him to the ground.
Grimgors’ jaw dropped as the villagers raised their spears to meet the onslaught that was approaching them.  His father at the forefront having already wet his pants still stood steadfast, spear at the ready and his Great Axe not far behind.  
It seemed like hours went by as the cavalrymen plowed into the half-hearted defenders cutting them down with giant swaths of their swords.  The scent of blood was in the air and the screams of both the dying and, the dead, were deafening.  Grimgor watched his father impale a charging horse upon his spear before his arms and head were severed by 3 separate attacks.  So swiftly was he killed that he could not even make a sound.
His head fell to the ground and the eyes, still locked in a terrifying position, started at Grimgor. Before he could react Ironlung ran by and tackled Grimgor to the ground before turning to parry the attack of an encroaching rider.  Raising to his feet his flaming sword touched the tip of the undead soldier’s sword and his entire form went up in flames.  The rider let loose a bloodcurdling scream and attempted to run away only for his stead to collapse to the ground where they both were burned to ash by holy fire.
Ironlung quickly threw Grimgor into a nearby wagon and shouted “You wait here until I come and get you boy!” and he was off.  Grimgor could hear the sounds of battle from where he hid but all he could make out was the movements of Ironlungs flaming sword as he cut through dozens of the undead before, surround, 2 undead cavalrymen impaled Ironlung from both the front and the back and he collapsed to the ground, the fire of his sword dying out and the world going black as night.  
Suddenly the wagon Grimgor was in was flipped over and he fell to the ground only for the wagon to collapse on top of him.  Unable to move Grimgor simply played dead and hoped that they could not seem him breathing, or the blood flowing from where a plank had struck him upon the head.  He could already feel his thoughts swimming and soon passed out where he lie.
The following morning Grimgor awoke and had to fight to free himself.  He looked all around him and the town had been razed and burnt to the ground.  All about lay the bodies of the slain, both undead, and those he had known in the village.  The church where the women and children had instinctively taken refuge had been burnt to the ground, the bodies of the most able women lie charred at its doorstep.  As Grimgor looked further he found the body of his father, and taking his Great Axe swore a blood oath upon any being taking sides with the dark powers.  As he sat there, tears flowing down his cheeks a hand set down upon his left shoulder.  Turning and bringing the Great Axe up for defense Grimgor was ready to strike, only to have the axe ripped from his hands as he was knocked back to the ground tripping over his father’s body.  His eyes finally adjusted and he saw who his attacker was.
“Ironlung! You live!”
“Aye..had these Imperial boys not arrived when they did you and I would both be dead!”  At this he turned and pointed to the half a dozen or so men remaining from the 50 that had come to their aid.  Those standing up of their own power beaten and bloodied, but happy to be alive none the less as combined they had just defeated 50 undead wraiths.  A feat soon to be one of legend and only these 13 men, and Grimgor, had survived.
Ironlung looked to Grimgor again and offered his hand to help the boy up before he spoke.  “If you want to swear revenge and die quickly here is your axe” Ironlung held it out to him “Or you can come with me, and these fine lads behind me, to the Capital City of Vamar and I can train you in the ways of the Barbarian on the way.”  
“I will go with you my Lord.”  Said Grimgor solemnly.
“Good, we have a long way to travel as we are many moons away and the King must be told the dark forces are on the move again.”



The 14 men traveled together for many months, Grimgor proved to be a natural student and took to the teaching of Ironlung Kening quickly and exceptionally.  As they approached Vamar they made came about 3 days out.  Ironlung sent Grimgor off to hunt and gather fire wood for the night was getting cold and the rain was falling hard, so hard that it almost seemed to Grimgor that the God’s were crying.  But for what he could not decipher.  
As he came within 100 feet of the camp Grimgor could make out the sight of the 13 men fighting off more than a hundred goblins.  He knew he had to do something but he was so far away!  He did not care he threw the firewood and the dead hare to the ground and charged into the fray, calling upon his God’s to allow him to channel his rage and give him strength in this time of struggle for life and death between good and evil.  
Using his training form Ironlung he finally made his way to where the man stood and they fought back to back for three days against the goblin horde.  Slowly the 14 men were whittled down to 10, then 6, then 3, and soon they knew their situation was desperate as supplies were almost gone and they simply had no chance to kill the remaining 40 goblins.  The men had fought well and died hard, always taking at least one down with them as they fell.  Alas, this battle was not to be a victory and Ironlung looked at both men with him.  “Grimgor you must go to Vamar, and seek refuge, and allies to help you in your quest.  I can no longer go with you and we must now travel alone for in a group they will surely catch and kill us all.” At this Ironlung turned to the last remaining soldier “You my friend must turn and run as hard as you can forget all others, and all other things, you MUST get to the King and tell him what is happening!  I can but hope you get there in time my good man.  Here take this” Ironlung handed the soldier a ring made of the finest gold and diamonds with his family crest upon it “give this to the King and he will know that you speak for me.”
At this he tapped the man on the back and said quietly “Go, Now!”  Grimgor looked him in the eye and knew what was about to happen, he tapped Ironlung on the shoulder, “thank you my friend, you have taught me much, I will see you in Valhalla!” Ironlung smiled and both men stood up from behind the tall grass, Grimgor took off at full speed towards Vamar as Ironlung charged head first into the fray a long battle cry upon his lips as his flaming sword cut through the first two goblins he saw.    Grimgor turned to look at his savior, mentor, and friend, but had to turn away as the goblins finally over took him one last blood curdling human scream could be heard and Grimgor knew he was on his own again.  He just hoped he could make it to Vamar before the Goblins caught up with him.