geeman
01-09-2004, 06:38 PM
Here`s yet another new awnshegh. Comments welcome.
Gary
---oooOooo---
BOLGAR THE BRUTE
It was not difficult to find the awnshegh that has come to be known as
Bolgar the Brute. He left a path of destruction where ever he
went. Broken tree limbs and giant footprints littered his path, and even
had I been a blind man I could have followed the directions of those who’d
witnessed his passing, for those who saw the creature would never forget
the sight. When I found him he was devouring what looked like it had been
a small herd of deer atop a small hillock in Aaldvaar. I observed him for
several minutes before announcing my presence. He’d built a great fire and
sat before it cooking his meal the way a man might dangle a hare on a spit
over a fire to roast it. He would use a claymore to roughly dress the
animals and sharpen a tree limb to spit them. In his giant hand the heavy
blade was like a knife.
The Brute ate with gusto if not with grace. His face was smeared with
animal fat and bits of meat. He wore a mish mash of hides and furs, but I
could see that his body was much changed by the taint of Azrai. Though he
was hunched he stood at least twice the height of a man. Yet his arms
reached nearly to his ankles. He was nearly as broad as he was tall, and
his every movement conveyed great strength and vitality. His face was
bestial with a thick brow, a short stub of a nose and small, close set
eyes. His head has a few thin tufts of hair, but his scalp was clearly
visible beneath showing a strangely misshapen skull. His jaw was thick and
the teeth that filled his mouth were as blunt as a donkey’s.
Yet for all his bestial looks there was something child-like about his
face. A roundness to his cheeks, or the depth of his clear blues eyes gave
him the look of an innocent. Or perhaps it was spoiled innocence that I
saw there? Yes, it was the face of a babe the moment that he first knows
betrayal.
I was unarmed and alone and I made no attempt to conceal myself as I
approached for I did not wish to startle him. The babbling of the brook at
the base of the hill, however, may have prevented him from hearing my
approach, so my appearance may have surprised him. It may seem odd that
such a being would fear a lone manlet alone one as small and inoffensive as
myself-but one must understand that the Brute has been driven from a dozen
communities in recent months and he must now avoid contact with people for
his own safetyand possibly for his own state of mind. How many times can
one be rejected by humanity before being driven mad? I held a palm up
before me to show I had no intention of attacking him. Still the beady
eyes below his heavy brow grew suspicious and he reached for a giant
clubthe trunk of a treethat rested against a stone beside him. He growled
at me, and I froze.
“I mean you no harm, my big friend.”
“What you want?” His voice was predictably deep and rough, but I heard
a note of panic in it.
“Only to share the warmth of your fire, and perhaps to talk to you. I
am alone. I will not try to hurt you or take your food. I have some of my
own, you see?” I moved slowly to display the field rations I had brought
with me.
“You are not afraid of Bolgar? No fear....” he seemed to muse for a
moment, almost forgetting my presence. “Good. You come. Sit. No
tricks!” He continued to watch me warily, but he put down the club and
returned to his meal.
“No, no. No tricks. Thank you sharing your fire.” It was a very large
blaze, too hot for me to sit very close, so I sat as near as to be made
uncomfortable by the flames. It was also far enough that he did not seem
to fear I would attack him, but within the reach of his club.
I introduced myself as a wandering bard from the south, which he seemed
to approve of, and asked him who he was and why he was in such a lonely
place. Was he an Anuirean as well?
“Eh? No, I am a north man! I come from Rjurik lands. They hate
Bolgar. Drive him from village. I hate them all now! Smash them! Gaah!”
The boulder beneath his hand crumbled like a clump of sod. I tried not
to show my fear, but changed the subject quickly to calm the creature famed
for his temper.
“What of your family, Bolgar? Your mother?”
“I have no mother. She died. Bolgar too big. When I was born… she
died. Bolgar was a buh... buh... bru... breee...”
“A breach? Your birth was breached?”
“Yes. Breach. Mother died, so I never know her. No brothers or
sister. Father was sad. He died too. Raiders killed him when I was
young. Stay in clan. Live with uncle. He was good to Bolgar, but Bolgar
grow too much. Eating and eating. Scared the people. They hate Bulgar,
so I hate them back. See much. Learn much. Hear much. People
talk. Fear Bolgar. They say Bolgar eats too much. Grows too big. Too
strong. They are fraid of Bolgar. Bolgar get mad. Smash village. Hurt
people. Not mean to. They are small. Get in my way. All of them hate
Bolgar then. Bolgar hate them! Hate them all! Aaaaagh!”
The fury of the creature was astounding. He beat the ground with his
makeshift club so powerfully that the log shattered into flinders, and it
was these flinders that saved my life, for they knocked me from the stone I
had been sitting on. I tumbled down the incline and splashed into the
muddy creek below while the Brute vented his rage on the trees and stones
around him. My bumps and bruises were nothing compared to the devastation
he left upon the hill. I lay in the cold water until I heard his rampage
end and he stomped off into the distance.
---oooOooo---
It is not known from which Rjurik clan Bolgar the Brute is from, though
it is known he was driven from his home soon after his bloodline
manifested. In recent months he has wandered the Highlands in search of a
place of refuge. Aside from his intimidating appearance and demeanor, the
Brute’s becomes enraged at the slightest provocation, and the destruction
he has wrought make him an unwelcome resident of any habited area. Torn by
his hatred of those who have driven him into the wilderness and his own
loneliness, the Brute is a tormented soul.
For months Bolgar actively resisting his transformation into the Brute,
but the very nature of his degeneration made it more and more difficult for
him to do so as time when on and his loneliness overtook him. Recently he
has begun to despair of ever finding a place in the world, and his anger
has begun to consume him. He knows that he will never be able to live the
normal life that he so desperately desires, and that knowledge has forced
him to embrace aspects of his transformation that help him to survive.
Bolgar the Brute now wanders Cerilia, not only in search of some refuge,
but fleeing his past and the monstrosity that he has become.
An appearance by the Brute can be used as a Monsters or Brigandage
random event.
Bolgar the Brute
Large Awnshegh
Hit Dice: 5d12+3d8+40 or 56 (99 or 115 hp)
Initiative: +1 (dex)
Speed: 30 ft. (6 squares)
Armor Class: 14 or 12 (+1 dex, -1 size, +1 natural, +3 hide armor, -2 rage)
Base Attack/Grapple: +7/+21 or +23
Attack: Large Greatclub +16 or 18 melee (2d8 +15 or 18)
Full Attack: Large Greatclub +16/+11 or +18/+13 melee (2d8 +15 or 18)
Space/Reach: 10 ft./10 ft.
Special Attacks: --
Special Qualities: Fast Movement, Illiterate, Uncanny Dodge (Dex bonus to
AC, can’t be flanked), Trap Sense +1, Rage 3/day.
Saves: Fortitude +12 or +14, Reflex +4, Will +3 or +5
Abilities: Str 30, Dex 12, Con 22, Int 8, Wis 10, Cha 9
Skills: Intimidate +7, Spot +8, Survival +11
Feats: Cleave, Great Cleave, Major Transformation, Power Attack
Environment: Any land
Organization: Solitary
Challenge Rating: 9
Treasure: None
Advancement: by character class
Level Adjustment: +1
Bloodline: Tainted, Azrai, 11
Bloodline in BP Format: Az(2/1) DivWrth(1/2/1)
The Brute is a large humanoid of degenerate or pre-historic
appearance. He wears filthy furs that give him the benefit of hide armor
and wields a large, wooden greatclub. He speaks Rjuven.
Combat
The Brute often flies into a rage at the slightest provocation lashing
out at anyone and anything around him. While raging he will fight to the
death, but if his rage should end before the fight does he will usually try
to flee combat, horrified at his own actions and the destruction that he
causes. If he is pursued he will rage again.
Divine Wrath: Any time the Brute is attacked, hurt, annoyed or otherwise
threatened he must make a Will save (DC 15) to avoid going into a murderous
rage similar to that of a barbarian. His strength and constitution scores
increase by +4, but his AC is reduced by 2. Unlike barbarian rage,
however, the Brute will lash out at anyone and anything around him, friend
and foe alike. His rage lasts for six rounds. Though the Brute often
rages involuntarily he may also do so intentionally.
Unlike barbarians, the Brute is not fatigued after raging, and he can
use this ability more than once per encounter. In all other ways (skills
he can use, magic items he can employ, etc.) the Brute’s rage ability
conforms to that of the barbarian.
Modifiers and characteristics for the Brute when raging are given as the
alternate figures in the description above.
Gary
---oooOooo---
BOLGAR THE BRUTE
It was not difficult to find the awnshegh that has come to be known as
Bolgar the Brute. He left a path of destruction where ever he
went. Broken tree limbs and giant footprints littered his path, and even
had I been a blind man I could have followed the directions of those who’d
witnessed his passing, for those who saw the creature would never forget
the sight. When I found him he was devouring what looked like it had been
a small herd of deer atop a small hillock in Aaldvaar. I observed him for
several minutes before announcing my presence. He’d built a great fire and
sat before it cooking his meal the way a man might dangle a hare on a spit
over a fire to roast it. He would use a claymore to roughly dress the
animals and sharpen a tree limb to spit them. In his giant hand the heavy
blade was like a knife.
The Brute ate with gusto if not with grace. His face was smeared with
animal fat and bits of meat. He wore a mish mash of hides and furs, but I
could see that his body was much changed by the taint of Azrai. Though he
was hunched he stood at least twice the height of a man. Yet his arms
reached nearly to his ankles. He was nearly as broad as he was tall, and
his every movement conveyed great strength and vitality. His face was
bestial with a thick brow, a short stub of a nose and small, close set
eyes. His head has a few thin tufts of hair, but his scalp was clearly
visible beneath showing a strangely misshapen skull. His jaw was thick and
the teeth that filled his mouth were as blunt as a donkey’s.
Yet for all his bestial looks there was something child-like about his
face. A roundness to his cheeks, or the depth of his clear blues eyes gave
him the look of an innocent. Or perhaps it was spoiled innocence that I
saw there? Yes, it was the face of a babe the moment that he first knows
betrayal.
I was unarmed and alone and I made no attempt to conceal myself as I
approached for I did not wish to startle him. The babbling of the brook at
the base of the hill, however, may have prevented him from hearing my
approach, so my appearance may have surprised him. It may seem odd that
such a being would fear a lone manlet alone one as small and inoffensive as
myself-but one must understand that the Brute has been driven from a dozen
communities in recent months and he must now avoid contact with people for
his own safetyand possibly for his own state of mind. How many times can
one be rejected by humanity before being driven mad? I held a palm up
before me to show I had no intention of attacking him. Still the beady
eyes below his heavy brow grew suspicious and he reached for a giant
clubthe trunk of a treethat rested against a stone beside him. He growled
at me, and I froze.
“I mean you no harm, my big friend.”
“What you want?” His voice was predictably deep and rough, but I heard
a note of panic in it.
“Only to share the warmth of your fire, and perhaps to talk to you. I
am alone. I will not try to hurt you or take your food. I have some of my
own, you see?” I moved slowly to display the field rations I had brought
with me.
“You are not afraid of Bolgar? No fear....” he seemed to muse for a
moment, almost forgetting my presence. “Good. You come. Sit. No
tricks!” He continued to watch me warily, but he put down the club and
returned to his meal.
“No, no. No tricks. Thank you sharing your fire.” It was a very large
blaze, too hot for me to sit very close, so I sat as near as to be made
uncomfortable by the flames. It was also far enough that he did not seem
to fear I would attack him, but within the reach of his club.
I introduced myself as a wandering bard from the south, which he seemed
to approve of, and asked him who he was and why he was in such a lonely
place. Was he an Anuirean as well?
“Eh? No, I am a north man! I come from Rjurik lands. They hate
Bolgar. Drive him from village. I hate them all now! Smash them! Gaah!”
The boulder beneath his hand crumbled like a clump of sod. I tried not
to show my fear, but changed the subject quickly to calm the creature famed
for his temper.
“What of your family, Bolgar? Your mother?”
“I have no mother. She died. Bolgar too big. When I was born… she
died. Bolgar was a buh... buh... bru... breee...”
“A breach? Your birth was breached?”
“Yes. Breach. Mother died, so I never know her. No brothers or
sister. Father was sad. He died too. Raiders killed him when I was
young. Stay in clan. Live with uncle. He was good to Bolgar, but Bolgar
grow too much. Eating and eating. Scared the people. They hate Bulgar,
so I hate them back. See much. Learn much. Hear much. People
talk. Fear Bolgar. They say Bolgar eats too much. Grows too big. Too
strong. They are fraid of Bolgar. Bolgar get mad. Smash village. Hurt
people. Not mean to. They are small. Get in my way. All of them hate
Bolgar then. Bolgar hate them! Hate them all! Aaaaagh!”
The fury of the creature was astounding. He beat the ground with his
makeshift club so powerfully that the log shattered into flinders, and it
was these flinders that saved my life, for they knocked me from the stone I
had been sitting on. I tumbled down the incline and splashed into the
muddy creek below while the Brute vented his rage on the trees and stones
around him. My bumps and bruises were nothing compared to the devastation
he left upon the hill. I lay in the cold water until I heard his rampage
end and he stomped off into the distance.
---oooOooo---
It is not known from which Rjurik clan Bolgar the Brute is from, though
it is known he was driven from his home soon after his bloodline
manifested. In recent months he has wandered the Highlands in search of a
place of refuge. Aside from his intimidating appearance and demeanor, the
Brute’s becomes enraged at the slightest provocation, and the destruction
he has wrought make him an unwelcome resident of any habited area. Torn by
his hatred of those who have driven him into the wilderness and his own
loneliness, the Brute is a tormented soul.
For months Bolgar actively resisting his transformation into the Brute,
but the very nature of his degeneration made it more and more difficult for
him to do so as time when on and his loneliness overtook him. Recently he
has begun to despair of ever finding a place in the world, and his anger
has begun to consume him. He knows that he will never be able to live the
normal life that he so desperately desires, and that knowledge has forced
him to embrace aspects of his transformation that help him to survive.
Bolgar the Brute now wanders Cerilia, not only in search of some refuge,
but fleeing his past and the monstrosity that he has become.
An appearance by the Brute can be used as a Monsters or Brigandage
random event.
Bolgar the Brute
Large Awnshegh
Hit Dice: 5d12+3d8+40 or 56 (99 or 115 hp)
Initiative: +1 (dex)
Speed: 30 ft. (6 squares)
Armor Class: 14 or 12 (+1 dex, -1 size, +1 natural, +3 hide armor, -2 rage)
Base Attack/Grapple: +7/+21 or +23
Attack: Large Greatclub +16 or 18 melee (2d8 +15 or 18)
Full Attack: Large Greatclub +16/+11 or +18/+13 melee (2d8 +15 or 18)
Space/Reach: 10 ft./10 ft.
Special Attacks: --
Special Qualities: Fast Movement, Illiterate, Uncanny Dodge (Dex bonus to
AC, can’t be flanked), Trap Sense +1, Rage 3/day.
Saves: Fortitude +12 or +14, Reflex +4, Will +3 or +5
Abilities: Str 30, Dex 12, Con 22, Int 8, Wis 10, Cha 9
Skills: Intimidate +7, Spot +8, Survival +11
Feats: Cleave, Great Cleave, Major Transformation, Power Attack
Environment: Any land
Organization: Solitary
Challenge Rating: 9
Treasure: None
Advancement: by character class
Level Adjustment: +1
Bloodline: Tainted, Azrai, 11
Bloodline in BP Format: Az(2/1) DivWrth(1/2/1)
The Brute is a large humanoid of degenerate or pre-historic
appearance. He wears filthy furs that give him the benefit of hide armor
and wields a large, wooden greatclub. He speaks Rjuven.
Combat
The Brute often flies into a rage at the slightest provocation lashing
out at anyone and anything around him. While raging he will fight to the
death, but if his rage should end before the fight does he will usually try
to flee combat, horrified at his own actions and the destruction that he
causes. If he is pursued he will rage again.
Divine Wrath: Any time the Brute is attacked, hurt, annoyed or otherwise
threatened he must make a Will save (DC 15) to avoid going into a murderous
rage similar to that of a barbarian. His strength and constitution scores
increase by +4, but his AC is reduced by 2. Unlike barbarian rage,
however, the Brute will lash out at anyone and anything around him, friend
and foe alike. His rage lasts for six rounds. Though the Brute often
rages involuntarily he may also do so intentionally.
Unlike barbarians, the Brute is not fatigued after raging, and he can
use this ability more than once per encounter. In all other ways (skills
he can use, magic items he can employ, etc.) the Brute’s rage ability
conforms to that of the barbarian.
Modifiers and characteristics for the Brute when raging are given as the
alternate figures in the description above.