Greshkil grew up too fast and grew too big. Perhaps it is the cursed nature of Bergen Chrypt, perhaps just another sign of the end times. One can look for causes until one goes mad.
By the time he was ten, Greshkil towered over every man in his village. His mother had mercifully died soon after birth, but his father joined the other villagers in shunning him, even to the point of pelting him with rocks and filth when he showed his face.
So, Greshkil grew up alone and often cruelly hungry. His mind, which may have been a prodigeous as his frame, warped. His size was the problem, that much was clear. Where did growth come from though?
Greshkil had learned to set simple traps, and in his solitude grew ever more proficient. At first he merely captured animals to eat, but soon he grew fascinated with their complex insides. There were organs for blood, for breathing, digesting, making sounds. Where was the one for growth?
Then people from the villages started disappearing. Children, youth, grown men all went missing in or near the woods. Some few who escaped claimed that someone was setting man-traps out there.
In his hideout, Greshkil opened them up. He weighed and measured their organs, sliced them thinly, counted out the seconds it took for them to bleed out. He did not however solve the mystery of growth. Greshkil is determined though, as only the true born physick can be.
Greshkill is easily three meters tall, gangly and strong. His nose is bulbous and asymmetrical, his mouth dry and lipless. His piggy eyes are red and shine with intelligence. He climbs like an ape.
HP 19 Morale 7, Thick hide -d2, club 1d8, thrown rock 1d6
Special: easy to hit; attacks are DR10.
Greshkill does not generally fight his prey directly. He sets traps to preserve them for his investigations.
Some sample traps:
A net is attached to a trip wire at ankle height. DR14 to spot it. Cutting oneself loose from the net takes 1d6 rounds, unless one has help.
The dust-button pit is more complex. It involves a simple pit trap (DR12 to spot), the bottom of which is lined with dust-button fungi. Those who inhale their spores must test Toughness (DR10) or fall into a sleep replete with visions of other worlds.
The snare is an old favorite. Again it is a DR14 test to spot the release. Once sprung it propels the victim three meters into the air, leaving them hanging head down like so much ripe fruit.
Quiet, the Hound
Greshkil’s sidekick is a source of wonderand mystery. Early in his career he experimented with putting his subjects back together (when he wasn’t too hungry). It only weorked once. Quiet was the result.
A huntsman’s hound with stark white eyes and Greshkil’s rough threads showing from throat to genitalia. Quiet is true to his name. He never barks, growls, whimpers or even breathes. Greshkil knows that something other than his own skill is animating the hound, and some day he might seek out the cause. For now Quiet is too useful a companion.
HP 9, Morale 8, Bite 1D6
Special: when Quit has sunk his teeth in, he may elect to worry and tear at his prey instead of biting on subsequent rounds. This does an automatic 1d4 damage.
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