Baldur's Gate Chronicles - Character Builder (Gromnir)

General

Sex	Male
Race	Human
Class	Fighter
Experience	125,000
Levels	Lvl 8
Alignment	Chaotic Neutral

Ability Scores

Strength	18/59
Dexterity	16
Constitution	17
Intelligence	4
Wisdom	17
Charisma	8

Special Skills

Ability Bonuses

To Hit	2
Damage	3
Wt Allow	250
Bashing%	30
Missile Def	1
AC Def	-2
HP Adj	+3
Res Surv%	98
Magic Def	3
Lore Bonus	-13
Reaction Adj	-2

Saving Throws

Paralyze/ Poison/ Death
Rod/Staff/Wand
Petrify/Polymorph
Breath Weapon
Spells

Weapon Proficiencies

Broad Sword
Two Weapon

+++++
+

Biography

I hate the night before battle. It is only just past midnight and yet, I don�t think there is a single soul sleeping in this vast camp. We know the enemy is out there, only a few hundred yards beyond our sentries. Strangely enough, we do not fear them this night. Tonight, we fear the creatures that haunt the dark places between the thousand upon thousand fires that illuminate the vast camp of this army. Each man must battle those demons his own immagination calls to life in the night before battle. Each man of this great army must fight alone on this, the night before battle. When I was a young man, I tried many ways to combat the demons my mind had summoned. For some reason, that does not occur to me now, I once believed that I could drown the dark creatures if I drank enough ale. Wh0res always follow a army of this size and as a younger man I often found some comfort in the embrace of a woman. Those days, regretfully, are gone. Many times I gambled away what little money I had, with friends and strangers alike, in attempt to distract my rebellious mind. Sometimes the simple chores of polishing my armour and sharpening my sword were enough to keep the demons away until battle was joined. I have not been a young man for far too long. No longer is my mind so easily preoccupied. So, here I sit before the fire attempting to dispel a chill that does not come from the warm summer night. I sit before the fire and think. I think of my sons, who have all been lucky enough to die bravely in battle. I think of my daughters, all married to strong men of our clan. I think of my wife who is still beautiful to no man�s eyes but my own. I think of these things and they bring me comfort. As I continue to stare into the fire, my mind wanders and I find myself wondering how an old man, such as myself ended up in this place so far from my beautiful wife. I hate the night before battle. Seven years ago, a man came from the warm lands to the south. He asked Mordi Shieldsplitter, clan leader of the Bloodraven, to teach him how to track and hunt as a clansman. He asked to live among the Bloodraven and learn to survive in the wilds of the North. He offered litle, save a strong back and a able sword. Mordi laughed at the warmlander. He told the stranger that when winter came, there would barely be enough food and heat for all the people of the clan to survive. He asked the stranger to choose which person he would have Mordi kill so that the stranger could have a warm place to sleep and enough food to survive the winter. "Each one of these you see here in this hall is my kin. If I give you food, some child will starve. If I give you a warm place to sleep, some grandfather will freeze. This is my family. I will not sacrifice one of them so that you may play at being a clansman. Go back to the warm lands of the south and marry a soft woman and raise fat babies. There is no place for you here." The stranger nodded his head and said that he understood. He placed a magnificent broadsword at Mordi�s feet and then turned and left the Hall of Clan Bloodraven without saying another word. I thought that would be the last we saw of the strange man from the south. As with so many other things in life, I was wrong. A few days later, some of the warriors of our clan discovered that the stranger had built a small shack about two miles away. They said it was a feeble thing that would not survive the first strong storm. The warriors asked Mordi if the stranger should be driven away. "No," said Mordi as he looked at the broadsword the stanger had left behind, "he has paid for his lodging. We will not aid him, but neither will we harm him." I don�t know how he survived that first winter. In fact, I don�t know how he survived the summer. But survive he did. I suspect that the children were helping him. We all knew that the children of the clan would dare each other to sneek up on the stranger�s shack. Children, too young to prove themselves in battle, were always finding other ways to prove their courage to themselves and others. I suspect that one of these "dares" resulted in a conversation of sorts, because suddenly the children were full of strange tales about the southern lands. At first we thought their tales were merely products of the fertile immaginations that all children seem to share. There was, however, a conspiritorial gleem in the eyes of many of the older children. We began to suspect that the children were teaching the stranger basic survival skills in trade for stories. As long as no food or supplies went missing we decided not to interfere. I honestly can�t remember how he became part of the clan. After he survived his first winter, he began to trade with various people. He would find the best hunter in the tribe, and offer him some gift from the south in exchange for lessons in tracking. He offered fish and game to gnarled old grandmothers if they would show him how to mend or make clothes. He would trade stories with our shaman in return for wisdom of the clan. He was often seen in the Hall during feasts as an invited guest of somebody he had done a favor for. Little by little he became one of us without our notice. Occasionaly, when worgs or ice trolls attacked some homestead, he always seemed to be there to lend a hand. He was a fearsome warrior. His sword arm was the stongest that any of us had ever seen. I had never beheld such cold butchery in battle before. He never yelled or cursed his foe. And yet each time his sword fell, another enemy would die. He was truly terrifying to behold. Soon, HE began to give lessons to our warriors. His knowledge of swordfighting as well as battle strategy was much sought after by the warriors of the clan. But still, I don�t remember him being invited into the clan even after he had helped to save many peoples lives. I do remember one night, less than two years after he first strode into the Hall of Clan Bloodraven. It was during a feast to Votan, the God of Clan Bloodraven, Lord of Battle and Carrion. I was a bit drunk. So was everybody in the great Hall. I leaned next the stranger who had somehow quietly become our friend and shouted to him above the din, "Gromnir my boy, you would make one hell of a clansmen!" He just smiled down at me and nodded his head slowly saying, "Gromnir thanks Mordi. You have given us much honor." As I sit here alone, staring into the fire on the night before battle, I still don�t know if meeting Gromnir was my doom or my salvation.

Author

Character Created By Gromnir For Baldur's Gate II - Shadows Of Amn