Author Topic: The Brutish life of Gomrin Renodin  (Read 6414 times)

Renodin

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Re: The Brutish life of Gomrin Renodin
« Reply #15: November 15, 2013, 08:18:07 PM »
Finally I was able to make an RP in return for the player of Blasa. I always like and really appreciate RP's in general but particularly when they of course any of my characters! hehe. Here Gomrin discovers the Warhammer and the few events that revolve him actually finding it and his way of thanking Blasa.

The Hammer of Doom!

The festivities were dying down again, the fights were fought and the honors exchanged. Noble had fought noble in a display of martial prowess in honor of the City being handed to the next generation. Duke Dunbore had given the city of Unger to Lord Althalos.

Tents lined the fairground where the great market usually stood. Colorful and rich in banners of course. Every shade of red, blue and green were vividly present. Not all of the tents were fine though and hardly all of the warriors were proper. This was especially true for Gomrin's men and his tent. It was a heavy hide tent, spacious but also framed with heavy timbers and the area was littered with sharpening stones, black iron braziers with remains of fires and lingering weapons worn with much use.

In the immediate area of Gomrin's tent there were gangs of men, soldiers perhaps but definitely hard men. Not 2 alike in attire or build, weapons as varied as the cultures of Beluaterra. A couple sat together in a small group on small stools or robust firewood logs casting bone dice around a small pile of coins. Their eyes all hawk-like and muscles taut in anticipation of the next winner. The only thing that marked any of this area as part of the same thing was the symbol of 2 axes, one vertical and one horizontal as it crossed the first.

A few dogs scurried around, not the sickly kind but half-breeds. Big, nasty and heavy furred wolfhounds probably. Like the brutish men they wandered the premises in packs. One particular curious one walked up to the discarded Warhammer that Blasa had left at Gomrin's tent. She herself still hid behind the wheat-cart on the opposite site of the road of Gomrin's tent. Gomrin's place was at the utmost edge of the fairground of course, not too many nobles actually wanted to be near him when not in battle.

The sturdy hound cautiously approached the Warhammer with flat ears but decided to stay a fair distance away from it. A soft whine escaped its maw as its body shook involuntarily. It pawed at the dirt directly in front of it as it lowered its head. It let out a strenuous howl as it arched its back and raised its head to the sky.

Dogs came scurrying from all over the compound and gathered in a semi circle around the Warhammer. Barking, whining, walking or rushing from left to right. Some answered with howls of their own but they didn't manage to keep it up for long though. A rumble came from within the tent. A metallic clang followed with a bronze washing dish rolling out from the tent flap. ''Axes and Blood! Damned unstable ground!'' A violent crash could be heard and one side of the tent gave a visible shudder as something connected with one of its supports from inside of the tent. The hounds gave curious looks, some of the older ones backed off expertly.

A heavy arm matted with dark brown hair pushed out from the tent and raked the tent flap to the side creating an exit. From here Gomrin emerged. ''What are you mongrels on about! Shut your traps and git!'' The near black curls of Gomrin's shoulder length hair danced around his broad face. Arms raised and firsts at the ready to deal out damage.

In his angry haze he slammed his bare foot against the Warhammer. Impacting his pinky toe full force against the head of the Warhammer. Gomrin's face froze and for a moment he seemed suspended in time. The spell shattered as Gomrin led out a mighty shout of pain! Leaping up into the air on one leg, cradling his foot in both hands.

The hounds that were about gave curious and surprised looks as some ventured a bark and mistook this silly human dance for an invitation to play. Waving frantically with one arm in the direction of the obliging dogs Gomrin spewed forth a torrent of curses in vain to get the dogs to leave him alone. ''You inbred ferret lovers! Get the nine hells of off me! You rat snapping, !@#$ eaters!''

One dog actually leapt  against Gomrin causing man and beast to tumble to the ground. Helpless to stop any of it happening Gomrin crashed to the straw strewn dirt and cobble. Dogs rushed in to join the fun and licked their perceived master to silence.

When the racked finally ended and Gomrin managed to master the pack of dogs with pushed, head-buds and growling he noticed the Warhammer himself. Still sitting on the ground about an arms length away from the weapon he gazed at it for a moment, taking in the significant item. Still dressed in a simple and crude warriors tunic, shoe-less and without any weapon except his bare hands he looked very un-noble. His full and untended beard much added to this image and his many scars rather made him look like a mercenary brute or some such.

Peering left and right Gomrin reached out a hand to take the weapon, dragging it greedily towards himself. Getting up from the ground he didn't bother dusting himself off but instead looked in amazement to the magnificent weapon. ''Maybe Axes are for throwing and hammers are for smashing..'' Nodding sagely to himself at his newly discovered truth Gomrin tried the weapon in one hand. Heavy, the thought came to him. He tried two hands, clumsy this time. -Its a bastard Hammer!- His eyes lit up and he raised the weapon high up with one hand.

He returned to hold the weapon casually with two hands as he cast another look around. Wasn't this weapon supposed to be delivered to him by someone? Blaze or something.. Blazy? Recollection informing him of the true name, Blasa, a grin crept onto his features. ''Dinner is ready.'' Gomrin mumbled to himself followed by a shrug. He actually remembered their earlier correspondence.

Securing the warhammer to his belt Gomrin strode back into his tent only to emerge moments later again. He bore a huge chunk of boar roast, probably half a chest or something. From carrying it over his shoulder he slammed the roast of Boar rib cage onto a simple and small table. It was still sizzling and crisp but one half of it was horribly burned. Presumably left far too long over a cooking fire. The other side was pristine though!

''BLASA! Git 'ere we has food on the table!'' Gomrin roared in a battlefield voice. He grinned widely as he donned a bear-fur cape and strode off towards the main area of the fairgrounds. Leaving the food on the table and a pack of hungry hounds nearby.

-=-=-

My thanks goes out to the Player of Blasa of the Barrons family. I really enjoyed this little string of RP's. It felt really special.

Barrons

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Re: The Brutish life of Gomrin Renodin
« Reply #16: November 16, 2013, 12:12:37 AM »
 :-* Love it! Thank you!

Renodin

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Re: The Brutish life of Gomrin Renodin
« Reply #17: November 16, 2013, 09:14:36 AM »
Thanks Barrons! Here is the last bit of the RP that we made. Its your character's reaction to Gomrin's discovery of the Warhammer. Thanks for the fun and lets hope other people also enjoy it.

Written by the player of Blasa, Barrons family

From behind the wheat cart, Blasa watched the dogs going crazy over the warhammer, snarling and fighting. Briefly, she was taken back to the Luhgrethin forest and it's demon wolfbeasts. The dogs howled causing Blasa to whimper and she wanted to run right then. If it were not for her desire to ensure that Baron Gomrin indeed found the warhammer, she would have fled this city and it's eerie atmosphere.

Suddenly, she heard a gruff shout ''What are you mongrels on about! Shut your traps and git!''
A big man with curly hair emerged, That must be the Baron, Blasa thought. She watched with baited breath as he shouted some more and stumbled upon the hammer. Satisfied, she turned to leave and then a fearsome shout made her jump a meter high, ''BLASA! Git 'ere we has food on the table!''.

''That voice...that voice is exactly how I had imagined! Oh no!''

She then gagged softly as she heard a fleshy thump come from the tent. Starved, but not hungry she turned and ran for the gates of Unger before any one noticed, especially the big man chuckling from yonder tent, who undoubtedly would unnerve her forever.

Renodin

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Re: The Brutish life of Gomrin Renodin
« Reply #18: January 30, 2014, 04:02:58 PM »
Short little RP about Gomrin recruiting new soldiers. Of course he doesn't go to the local Mustering field or the barracks hehe.


In the spiderly backstreets of Unger a prowling Gomrin has been sighted rounding up all kinds of unsavory warriors. His means of recruitment a balance of fists, exchanges of wealth and blood. A few more bodies litter the gutters and dam the rainwater from draining properly but nothing the civil servants of the city couldn't manage or hadn't seen before.

Rich pickings for them as they loot the corpses of would be soldiers or headstrong and arrogant hicks. Gomrin cared not for their measly possessions, he was looking for killers and that is what he found. His band of true Thalmarkin warriors once again the size of a proper warband. Ready to terrorize their enemies, to burn, to loot but first..  to gain a measure of liquid courage at the local drinking holes of Unger!

Renodin

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Re: The Brutish life of Gomrin Renodin
« Reply #19: February 02, 2014, 02:29:01 PM »
Hey again! When I logged in today I discovered that there was over 3000 Combat Strenght worth of Undead and Monsters waiting for me! I had Gomrin in Luhgrethen already to hold courts to improve the region as it was already damaged by rogue monsters etc. He has 69 Mixed Infantry to combat 77 Undead and 10 monsters hehe. 3.4k vs 1.2k  (Mattias Bowker is there aswel with 25 MI)


A Legion of Dead

It had been a long day. That's rare for the days are short in the North. Luhgrethen was as far north as one could possible get! Days had few hours of actual light and seemingly everlasting nights. Sat on a heavy timber throne saw Gomrin dispense Mercy. Lots of sigh's, groans and blank stares were produced by the heavily bearded man. The procession of the court was rudely disturbed, a blessing really to Gomrin. A pair of young men rushed into the hall and immediately raised their voices to shouts. ''Monsters are attacking!'' Came the words from the first youth's throat. ''A Legion of Undead appeared from the forest!'' Came the second voice and both were accompanied by wild and flush expressions.

Pushing himself up and away from the Timber Throne did Gomrin propel himself into the room. ''To arms! Grab yer weapons and to Bashing!'' Spittle the first weapon he employed. In his exited state Gomrin kicked over a chair and raised his Doom Mace in the air. The following minutes saw Gomrin's brutes and fighters assemble. Each of them having their own personal and often uncommon weapons at hand. The Lords Hall, a small log fort on a sluggish hill was a hive of activity as men and beasts labored to erect makeshift defenses. More and fresh stakes driven into the dirt, windows barred shut and arrows, knifes and rocks piled and ready at the 2 small firing platforms the shabby fort boasted. With the ample amounts of True Thalmarkin snow available a low rampart was brought to life and ran all around the fort. Where it now was pristine white it would soon be sanguine red as the day lost its hours and the Legions of undead and monsters crept closer.

As the hub bub died down and the men and women had done all that they could do all that remained was to wait and to pray for tomorrow.

Renodin

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Re: The Brutish life of Gomrin Renodin
« Reply #20: March 07, 2014, 08:50:54 AM »
Hey again! Been a good while since I wrote a decent RP for Gomrin. This one tells of some of the events that followed after loosing all his men in battle against Monsters in the far north of Thalmarkin. Gomrin wandered back to the city of Unger and there the following story unfolds. Enjoy!


Trauma

Stumbling and then some stalking thats how he moved through the city. Days ago, he couldn't recall how many, men died. Lot's of them, everywhere. The screams still assailed him, they echoed off the walls of Unger. He saw their horrified faces in puddles of water and the bark of that Damned dog on the corner of the market reminded him of the howls of the monsters!

He had lost his mace, the doom hammer. That strange and powerful weapon. It had shattered upon a fell creature who had shrugged off the blow and grinned broadly with otherwordly intelligence. Piss stenching men had fled before that thing and it still haunted his dreams at night. Gomrin eyed the people in the street with a wild expression. Half of them he actually registered and the rest nothing but blurs and walking ghosts. ''Ye 'kay th'ere?'' a comely girl approaching womanhood asked him as she extended her hand to feel his temperature.

His ragged appearance must've made him look harmless. His dark brown and slightly curly hair a tangled mess of near black. His beard full of grime and sticky to his skin. The grooves in his forehead and the crevices of his body mortared up with filth. Gomrin had taken a tattered blanket of a squatter to protect him from the nightly chill and had given the man broken bones and tears when he objected.

Her touch upon his forehead was cool, gentle, solace.. and brought back the monster's grin. ''Sickly she dog!'' came the rumbling snarl that uttered from Gomrin's mouth. The muscles in his neck bunching up and his eyes turning dark as he lowered his face away from the illuminating sun. With a quick and strong move did he grab her wrist and powered her onto her knees. The young women resisted as was her nature but couldn't help but yelp at the unrestrained force used against her. Feral eyes were cast down upon her and people in the street stopped to look, some protested but none got closer really. ''I'll kill you for what you've done. For what You've Done!'' His free hand roamed the surface of a nearby wall and clamped around a loose piece of stone as he ripped it out. ''You'll pay, You will! You Will!  For all you have done!'' His words rising in strenght and quickly becomming a bellowing torrent.

The young women protested, called him names and asked for help. In the struggle the tattered blanket had fallen to the ground and revealed a ringmail hauberk, it was sign enough for most of the low born people to stay clear. The stone rose above Gomrin's head and plunged down towards the young woman with devestating speed. The wall received fresh, sprinkled and spattered decoration. ''You!! You!... You! Pay!'' the words that accompanied every blow struck with the stone.

Within a short span of time the young woman would never be pretty again. She cried and her tears mingled with blood that flowed freely from the many wounds on her face and head. Her nose shattered in the onslaught but soon she wouldn't care anymore. It didn't take long before her face was a bloody pulp, Gomrin didn't realise or care. He only stopped when the stone got lodged in her skull, burried under her once fine hair.

His hand held on to the small jutting piece of rock from her cranium and worked in concert with his arm to pull, it didn't give. ''What the..?!'' Shock registered on Gomrin's face and also a fair bit of frustration. He let go of the piece of stone and look around him. His cheeks hot with excertion and his features dripping with deep red blood. It smelled different, monster blood smelled different. His eyes wandered over the mangled corpse in front of him. ''Murderer!'' A crooked and withered voice assailed him. With all the people gathered only an ancient looking woman had the courage to speak up. Her words slammed into him like an avalanche.

He actually roared at her and spread his arms for dramatic effect. His wild and soaked curls dancing like a fierce mane. The people recoiled and he himself rushed away. He ran, visions haunted him and at every corner could he see that one Monster's Otherworldly Grin. He was still out there and he knew, he knew. Guardsmen of Unger followed him and called for him to stop. Gomrin didn't and the manhunt was on.

Renodin

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Re: The Brutish life of Gomrin Renodin
« Reply #21: March 13, 2014, 09:30:44 AM »
Hey there. The following RP I wrote as Gomrin had arrived in his Region of Luhgrethen. Previously the King himself and several others had worked hard to restore the region to some semblance of functionality. Next the King send a letter to have all the realm prepare for his next big plan. Gomrin didn't see any positive signs what so ever in Luhgrethen and the send the king a letter that stated as much. Naturally the king wasn't all that pleased and neither was the Banker who brought food. Even Gomrin's Duchess spoke up and tapped him on the fingers.

Naturally, somebody had to take a fall
.



The Long Day


Sitting in his comfy chair, the wooden throne of Luhgrethen and with the fireplace full of roaring flames did Gomrin finally take a breath. A moment to pauze and reflect. His great Hall was a mockery of the very word. -Great-  it could barely contain 50 people, 35 more likely.

His eyes scanned over the rough timber walls and stopped every now and then to inspect a stuffed animal head, a particularly fine shield or of course, one of the nice and shiny axes. A pang of loss struck him as his hand felt not the familiar pommel of his Doom Hammer hanging from his belt. The mighty weapon lay ruined in some ditch or gulley. ''Damned beasts!'' Gomrin hissed through his teeth.

A creaking noise came from the double doored main entrance of the Great Hall. Gomrin looked up from his brooding and saw a skinny man enter the room. Kulfyrt was one of his scribes. The man's spiderly limbs, gaunt face and entirely too big eyes made Gomrin's skin crawl, every time again. ''Sire'' Kulfyrt uttered in his snakish voice. ''There are more people awaiting your justissse.'' An exited pitch to the man's voice.

''No, send them away.'' Gomrin's gruff reply came. His heavy eyebrows forming a deep frown ''Enough for today, I can't stand any more of their squabbling horse !@#$.'' The wooden throne sighed as Gomrin shifted his weight upon it. ''But sire.. There are so many still waiting. The day is yet filled with light and they have waited for such a long time..'' Kulfyrd crept closer and closer to the throne with each syllable uttered. His movement choppy and his head and face almost feline as he tried to woo the angry Lord of Luhgrethen with his toadish charm.

Closing his eyes to slids and sagging lazily on the throne Gomrin endured the scribe's approach. His thick right thumb pressed against his forehead as he tried to dispel a starting headache. ''The king sends word sire. He sounded a big upset Sire.'' A ghastly smile fashed over the Scribe's face. ''He thinks he worked hard for you Sire, that you don't appreciate him Sire.'' Kulfyrd had come into arm's lenght of the Wooden Throne and carefully edged closer still, his voice dropping lower and lower.

''Lord Crownguard says there is food in your granaries Sire... that you didn't see it sire..'' The scribe unleashed the words like water seeping through rock and with an accusatory tone almost entirely hidden. ''Then what are you doing telling me!'' Roared Gomrin at the feeble excuse of a man.

Pushing himself up from the Throne and to his full hight. ''How about your go and write to the King! What if you tell him there is nothing but snow and death here!'' Kulfyrd stumbled backwards and tried to retreat from his lord and master. Gomrin pushed the smaller man away. His hands like fleshy clubs that he used to molest the physcially weaker man. ''You know what you resemble Kulfyrd?!'' the two had soon reached the entrance to the great hall that still stood open and unbarred. ''I think your mother fancied bats Kulfyrd! Look at you!'' Gomrin ceased his advance for a moment to spread his arms wide and showered little Kulfyrd in blatant contempt. ''Your mother was so ugly only the Night Bird would have her!''

Something fronze in the little man and Kulfyrd reached for a hidden blade in his robes. ''Filthy Brute!'' He shrieked as he lashed out with the small but razor sharp blade. Gomrin dodged out of the way but too slow to escape the blade's bite. A red slash started to ooze blood on his left forearm. Kulfyrd looked in surprise and Gomrin's face contorted into a raging storm. ''Why you little..!'' Rage surged through Gomrin's veins. With both hands did he lift Kulfyrd from the ground like a child and rammed the little man's head against the unbarred door of the Greathall making it swing open. In a fluent motion Kulfyrd was tossed through the air and down the steps of the Great Hall. Landing heavily in the dirty slush that surrounded the building. A soft but distinct snap could be heard and Kulfyrd degenerated into a sobbing heap of broken humanity.

Standing at the entrance of the Great Hall Gomrin sobered from his anger as the Cold wind buffeted his face. The waiting peasants about filled with shock as they looked up at their Lord. ''Enough for today. Go home.'' Gomrin said with some scrap of dignity. With that the people dispersed and the day would finally perhaps, come to an end.

Renodin

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Re: The Brutish life of Gomrin Renodin
« Reply #22: March 30, 2016, 08:18:51 PM »

He emerged, again


A wild, tangled mess of beard and hair covers the face of an emerging man. His bulky body set in the frame of the doorway which offers his seeking hands some purchase and support. Dry lips part and a milky slime running with streaks of sickly green and faded yellow is spat noisily on the ground where it settles in between the cracks.

A grindstone of a neck turns slowly like the effort of a windmill on a wind starved day. ''Where the bloody hell are they all?'' The stark and invasive light of the sun fences with the lashes of a single eye, the other firmly shut. A leathery face made so by hard drinking, smoke and of course, the relentless weather shies away from the stark light as Gomrin admits defeat quietly to the ball of fire in the sky. ''I hope the nine hells are at least darker than this.'' Pushing himself away and inside the building again he starts to collect his gear. ''Much luck of that with all the bloody fire. Should've been a good boy.'' Fingers clumsily grasp axe and helm and his belt seems a living thing as it takes more than a couple tries before both items are fastened. ''Right, still drunk. One step at a time.''

And so Gomrin emerges from yet another drunk stupor. The beginning of it blended together with whatever  came after and the man looked it. At least, or so the people who liked him said, he emerged again. His detractors said much the same albeit with quite another tone: He emerged, again..

Renodin

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Re: The Brutish life of Gomrin Renodin
« Reply #23: April 07, 2016, 09:26:22 AM »


Daimon Duck

Somewhere, in a village deep in the forests of the Wailing Woods. ''Sir! Look!'' The fur and leather armour clad man called to Gomrin. His arm outstretched and his finger as erect as it could ever become. From the nebulous edge of the forest flew and walked giant ducks with black horns astride their skulls. A red, crackling haze engulfed them and their webbed feet sported wicked claws. ''What in the Nine Hells...'' Another warrior exclaimed bewildered. His hand running nervously through his beard.

Minutes later the entire village was overun with daimonic fowl of every variety. If that wasn't bad enough, black, forked tongued lynx and burrowing through the ground, fire breathing beetles! Swinging his axe about with all his might Gomrin swore like a sailor in rough seas. Gore flew, fire raged and men died all around. The daimons knew no pain and their strength was beyond anything anyone deemed possible. Geese ripped throats out with their serrated beaks and broke bones with blows from their infernal, fiery wings.

When nearly no man stood alive, Gomrin was enthralled in a dance of death and blood as he whirled through the battlefield like a madman. Blood not his own ran down his beard as in his mouth he still held a daimon duck's head. Bitted off during the fighting. 3 of his men manhandled him from the battlefield as it was painfully clear the battle was lost. ''Flying Rats! Crum nibbling !@#$ters!'' Wild eyed Gomrin looked back at the men pushing him off the battlefield. ''Let Go of me you Bunch of wet eyed women! Rhaaaarrghh!!''

And so, the battle of Wailing Woods was lost to the forces of the Nether.