“Shoulders that could hold up the very skies! Abdominals carved from the earth’s hardest granite! Buttocks proud and firm as the ancient rolling hills! A sheer mountain of flesh!” - Mornington Lormanston
The mighty barbarian Crom was a member of The Unbound Tribe, a nomadic group composed of all sorts of humanoid races who shunned the industrious human civilizations to seek a more harmonious relationship with nature. While settled briefly in the forests surrounding Horn Peak Mountain, the tribe had made several sightings of eerie shadows in the trees, shadows that disturbed the wildlife and frightened the inhabitants of the small villages nearby. When disturbed graves were discovered, and twisted unnatural creatures made foes of the tribe, Crom decided to set out on his own up the treacherous Horn Peak mountain to discover the source.
A perilous and lonely journey to the peak led Crom to an ornate cave in the mountainside, clearly unnatural in origin, carved out in ancient times by a civilization lost to the ages. Among the rubble and scattered arms and armour inside is where Crom found his prey, a wounded necromancer robed in black, wielding a sinister staff adorned with a goat’s skull. Before words could be exchanged, Crom was surrounded by a shambling undead horde and forced to test his mettle. Fighting for his life, Crom laid the foul creations to waste with his mighty greataxe, and with his last ounce of strength took the necromancer down. Panting with exhaustion and letting the rage of battle subside, he took in his surroundings and noticed what had seemingly drawn the necromancer to the cave: a vast pair of stone doors in the mountainside, adorned with rich runic carvings.
Crom made his lonely way back down the cold mountain, still wounded and disturbed by the grim circumstances that brought him there. Yet he quietly revelled in his mighty victory, and couldn’t quite take the taste of the blood of battle from his lips. He returned to his tribe with the news, but now had a new purpose: to test his towering strength against ever stronger opponents. Bidding his tribe farewell, he set out to test his resolve in battle against those worthy of his axe.
Crom met the party shortly before the great battle of the Capstan Castle, The Battle of Storms. Seeing a common purpose to rid the land of evil, and sensing the chance to throw himself into bloody battles, Crom decided to accompany the party on their way to aid the war-torn Capstan lands.
Preferring to let his mighty axe and bulging muscles speak for themselves, Crom is a gruff figure of very few words. Adorned in the furs of wolves and bears he has hunted, and brooding behind his thick iron helmet, a grunt of recognition or a short, blunt command are his preferred modes of communication, often to the bewilderment of timid townsfolk not used to dealing with such hulking and intimidating figures. It is unknown if he has ever smiled, laughed or uttered a word with more than four syllables. Standing at well over six and a half feet, he naturally finds it almost impossible to blend into crowds, as much as he wishes he could, if only to avoid their tedious gasps and stares.
Crom stands aloof from the squabbles of the party, but had some quiet admiration for Fenris, another man of great stature who threw himself fearlessly into battle. The two of them made for a deadly combination in combat, with Fenris serving as the party’s sword and Crom as its shield. He treats Mornington with cool but not unfriendly detachment, while he is both wary and impressed by the immense powers the scrawny Edward is able to conjure.
