Krognak Lowbelly

Attributes   Half-Orc   Monk - Drunken Fist     Krognak's Story   Once a famed blacksmith known far and wide among the soutwestern sword coast, Krognak took pride in his work and produced beautiful pieces of weaponry and armor for the wealthiest of clients. His fame was so widespread that a local lord named Ravensworth comissioned him to forge a blade for his eldest son, Prince Rowan. Prince Ravensworth offered a generous sum for the weapon, but gave Krognak only four days to complete it. Four days! For a blade of this sort, Krognak would spend four days just to forge the folded steel billet for the blade. He accepted the offer anyway, as declining a Lord would surely not end well for him. As he rushed back to his forge to begin, Krognak decided to visit an old friend of his in a neighboring town named Kilmori Horncoat. He was desperate for help. A fellow blacksmith, it so happened that Kilmori had just finished a fine billet for a blade he was preparing to forge. Kilmori agreed to sell Krognak the billet, for a much larger sum of gold than it was worth. Krognak happily handed over the gold for the billet, knowing that he would be more than repaid by Lord Ravensworth. Feeling hopeful, Krognak hastily made for home.   Krognak labored day and night, pounding the steel with might, yet with masterful precision. Ever so slowly the blade took shape, almost serpent-like, sleek and slender but with every intent to kill. After four days and nights of toil, heat, and smoke, the masterpiece blade was complete. With its mirror polish, ornate hilt, and deadly sharpness, Krognak proudly presented his best work to the Lord and Prince. Prince Rowan happily snatched it up and began to poke and slash at the air. Lord Ravensworth smirked, looked back at Krognak, and handed him a silk purse filled with more gold than Krognak had seen in his entire life.   Several weeks later, Krognak leaned back in his chair, then canted his head and looked contemplatively at the sketch on the table of his next masterwork. He had added a second level to his house, which was well stocked now with food and supplies, and his forge was now fit to make weapons for the Gods. He had not a worry in the world. Just then, as he sat thinking, he spotted the innkeeper, Sven, running down the street toward his forge. Krognak stood and smiled to greet him, but looking closer he noticed that Sven was panicked, looking behind him every few strides. Krognak ran up to meet him in the street. "Krognak you have to leave this place! The Ravensworth castle was attacked in an assasination attempt. Prince Rowan was found dead with your blade in his hand. The blade was split down the middle! A defect in the fold of the steel! Lord Ravensworth is blind with rage and he's sending men after you!"   Frightened, shocked, angry, and deeply ashamed, Krognak spent a few seconds snatching his most precious small items and fled into the woods. He fled for days and nights, filled with anguish, regret, and self-hatred.   Months later, Krognak emerged from the wilderness into an unfamiliar town many many miles away from the furthest he had ever ventured from home. He was dirty. His head spun with starvation and thirst. He trudged, zombie-like, into a tavern with a gold piece in his hand. Without a word the innkeeper helped him to a bath, fresh clothes, tea, and bread. He felt better, but his disgust with himself was still a twisting blade in his gut. He presented another gold piece to the innkeeper, and said a single word: "Ale."   A few months more later - Krognak drunkenly stepped into the ring. The roar of the crowd around him was blurred and dull. He wrapped his bloody fists in strips of cloth, occasionally fumbling them as his nerves were numbed by the drink. He raised his head and gritted his teeth, and sized up his opponent. This will be a good fight, he thought. A blur and a flash later, he was throwing his stunned opporent to the ground. The crowd roared and bettors collected their winnings. Krognak's physical power was terrifying, but it required a very special recipe. Some ale to dull the senses, and a rush of adrenaline to push away that last little bit of guilt that still stayed with him. It was the only time that Prince Rowan's face ever left him.   As Krognak stepped out of the ring to go fetch another mug of ale, he noticed someone who looked very out of place approaching him. Krognak looked forward and kept walking, intent on getting his ale, but the mysterious figure grasped his arm. Surprised at their boldness, Krognak looked down. The figure spoke quietly: "Krognak. We can help you clear your name, but we have a job for you. How would you like to work for the Adventurers' Guild?"