Grundle Hoft

The dwarf that men aspire to be


Grundle grew up only knowing a life of stealing. Trained by his brother Garthwin, Grundle’s life began and remained living on the streets. Witnessing Garthwin using brute force against anyone who came along – all in an effort to get by – Grundle learned his ways and the two formed a formidable (if short) duo. The two began hoarding a huge amount of coin in their undies. In time, this wouldn’t go unnoticed.

The duo kept wandering and invading settlements for money, or temporary shelter. This was the way life went. Wake up. Drink. Find an easy mark. Get the coin. Drink more. Sleep. Eventually as the two wandered, they arrived at the border of the Northern borderlands and began their new scam. With a the two G’s promising wouldbe travellers that they would safely escort their caravans out of Vanguard; they would instead attack the group and leave them for dead in the desolation.

After many years of living it large and succeeding in life whilst doing very little, Garthwin succumbed to old age. As he took his last breaths, he gave Grundle two things. For one, he reached into his undies and pulled out a mass of coins. Second, he handed over the warhammer that he’d carried around forever – at least, it was forever to Grundle. Garthwin explained how the warhammer belonged to Gunther – their father. Whilst Grundle had no memories of Gunther – he would keep the warhammer close to him, being his descendent.

Now alone, Grundle took over the “family business” – but doing it solo was a struggle. Eventually, it got too difficult. A group of Goblins were too much for Grundle. Instead of scamming them, he got taken over. Ripping away his mass of coin (60GC) they shoved him on a transport leading him away from the border. Knocked out, he didn’t know where he was going. When he looked out at his destination, he had no clues either. All he knew is that regardless of where he was – he has to get back. He wants to kill them and – most importantly – he wants his gold.

Before you he stands. You may have to arch your head down a little to notice, though. At four feet tall, he stands there with a smirk peeking through his aged bearded face. His huge, rotund belly sticks out – making the most of his 230lbs weight. His hairy matted arms drip with sweat as he raises up his warhammer. He looks to the hammer, then back to you. He chuckles – his long threaded beard bouncing up and down as his chest lets out each laugh. As he gets closer to you, a stench reaches your nose. It’s not that Grundle is opposed to washing – but there’s not enough shampoo for the amount of hair on his head – it all cumulating in a ponytail at his lower back. He opens his mouth, and out comes a gruff, gravelly voice.


Grundle Hoft

A Rise From Ash GM4TPK micster