Short Stories and Tall Tails
- Race: Mountain Dwarf
- Alignment: Chaotic Good
- Class: Fighter / Barbarian
- Languages: Common, Dwarfish
- Personality Traits: I can’t stand the sight of an unfair fight.
- Ideals: Money. I’m just in it for the money.
- Bonds: My weapon has seen me through many battles, it is important to me.
- Flaws: All my problems can be fixed with violence.
Gendrin has, until recently, been a fixture of the pitfighting scene in the small mountain town of Drellin’s Scarp.
Named Mailfist for the distinctive bladed gauntlets he wields in the arena he bested countless opponents and was regarded by many in the town as something of a mascot.
Surly, little-spoken and covered in scars, Gendrin plays well the role of savage outsider, although in reality the Scarp is the only place he has ever thought of as home.
The pitfighting scene is brutal but actual deaths are rare. Fighters are trained to pull the killing blow, as few of these fights are personal and keeping fighters around for rematches and revenge bouts is just good business sense. While deaths do happen, and Gendrin has seen and been the cause of many in his forty year career, they are almost always accidental or in self-defence.
It was in this cauldron of, blood, adrenaline and heightened emotion that disaster, or treachery struck. Fighting a fairly routine bout against a challenger from out of town, Gendrin felt himself overcome with a fury he had never felt before. A red mist descended, and in full view of the horrified crowd, he butchered his surrendering opponent. Turning to the gasping faces, he leapt into the crowd and began to lay about him. Eventually the arena guards subdued him and he pased out.
Waking in a cell, covered in dried blood, Gendrin realised that something had been done to him. Some outside influence had come over him and caused him to turn on his friends and neighbours. Unable to prove this, he was forced to use his considerable strength to escape the cell, and then the town, surviving long in the wilderness before being picked up by a caravan far enough away that they had not heard of the massacre.
With violence his only skill, Gendrin has turned to mercenary work to make ends meet, but endlessly he yearns to find out what happened in the arena, and who was responsible.