Gamhuin

Gamhuin of Clan Delzimmer

Race: Gold Dwarf, Class: Rogue Background: Charlatan, Alignment: Neutral Patron Deity: Abbathor Factions: {{{Factions}}}

Ability Scores

Strength 12 (+1), Dexterity 18 (+4), Constitution 15 (+2); Intelligence 8 (-1), Wisdom 14 (+2), Charisma 18 (+4)

Proficiencies

Bonus: 2 Saving Throws: Dexterity & Intelligence Skills: Deception, Insight, Perception, Persuasion, Sleight of Hand, Stealth Tools: smith's tools, thieves' tools, disguise kit, forgery kit, weaver's tools, leatherworker's tools Languages: Common, Riftspeak, Shanatan, Chondathan Armor: Light Weapons: battleaxe, handaxe, throwing hammer, warhammer, simple weapons, hand crossbows, longswords, rapiers, shortswords

Traits

Darkvision, Dwarven Resilience, Stonecunning, Dwarven Toughness, Expertise, Sneak Attack (2d6), Thieves' Cant, Cunning Action, False Identity,

Feats

None

Combat

Attacks: {{{Attacks}}} Armor Class: 16, Initiative: +4, Speed: 25 Hit Points: 30, Hit Dice: 3d8

Social

Personality Traits: {{{Personality}}} Ideals: Greed is Good Bonds: valuable objects, Abbathor's Commandment (cannot steal from dwarves, nor harm worshipers of Abbathor or their wealth) Flaws: beneath it all, he's a big 'ol softie

"There are only three people in life you can never fool--pawnbrokers, whores, and your mother." - Father Chains, The Lies of Locke Lamora

Origin

There is little that is remarkable about Gamhuin's origin. He was the younger of two brothers born into an very poor and ordinary dwarven family of the Delzimmer Clan near the Great Rift. His father was a trader who was rarely at home and his mother would make repairs to cloth and leathers for the community for pennies at a time. His brother would eventually become his father's apprentice and likewise became a rarity at home. When Gamhuin was a young boy, they left on a journey to trade in Eartheart and were never heard from again. The following year, Gamhuin's mother grew ill and died. Gamhuin made do as best he could on his own. He had learned some of his mothers skill with needle and thread, so he continued with her work in order to earn a minimum living for himself. But that wasn't good enough. He wanted more. He wanted what others had, people who were no better than him. Gamhuin began to cheat and steal his neighbors and life improved. But it was still not enough. He envied the merchants their fine clothes, good food and warm houses. Why should they have these things? They too were no better than he was. He deserved it. So he began to hatch new schemes and invent new stories for himself in order to make their gain become his own. And if done well, they would never be the wiser that they had been robbed. But one of his marks was the wiser. A traveling pawnbroker named Vonbela saw right through his con, though he was not aware that he had been made. It wasn't until Gamhuin had returned to his home after a day spent setting Vonbela up for the taking that two of her goons appeared and invited him to join the pawnbroker for dinner - the invitation may have involved a couple of clubs, a generous number of bruises and a sack over his head that smelled strongly of cat. Vonbela had seen potential in Gamhuin and had decided that he would be her apprentice, whether he wished it or not. His first lesson was taught through pain. Her master, the god Abbathor, forbids his children from stealing from other dwarves, nor from harming or knowingly interfering with the well being or wealth of another of his children. As Gamhuin had been reaping all of his profits from his fellow dwarves these past few years, he had a great deal to atone for. First he would be beaten for each coin that he had taken from another dwarf. Then she or her thugs would attend him as he approached each and every one of his past marks, confess to his crimes and return what he had taken. To those he could not pay back, he forfeited the home that had belonged to his parents. When Gamhuin was battered, penniless, homeless and defeated, Vonbela left the village that had always been his home, taking him with her. His crimes unveiled for all to see, no one was sad to see him go. She was to train him up to be a proper thief, one that Abbathor would be proud to call one of his own. He would serve at her side and help her amass great wealth. Gamhuin was far less enthusiastic about her vision, but he couldn't return home at this point and had no other prospects. Vonbela it turns out was not a pawnbroker, nor was her name Vonbela. That had simply been the face and identity she would wear when doing business in the region around his village. She had many names, many faces, she could change her language, accent and bearing, summon up a new backstory and she was someone new. She trained and fine tuned Gamhuin's skills and soon he was helping her pull off her fantastic cons across the countryside. She taught him of Abbathor, the dwarven god of greed, of his strictly enforced commandments, of the importance of amassed wealth, the power it commanded and of Abbathor's favor to those with the greatest hordes of gold and valuables. Gamhuin loved gold, it was very lovely, especially in firelight. But he wasn't a dragon. He didn't want to sit on a pile of gold as "Vonbela" seemed content to do. He wanted to surround himself with beautiful things, with fine tapestries, wondrous statues, paintings, beautiful clothes, fragrant incenses and other objects of art and value. Her goals and outlook were far too small. She would never win Abbathor's favor. She was just a pretty face that she used to distract people from her less skillful hands as they snatched away their goods. It was time to leave and make his own way. Leaving proved problematic, but he did manage to escape her grasp, though it cost him some broken ribs and her two thugs. He may have also accidentally burned down the inn where she was staying in the process - but he DID escape. He DID also fail to actually come up with a plan to follow his daring egress from the now burning village. North. North sounded good. Far, far north away from the angry villagers with Vonbela at their lead that he could see roaming the fire lit village road. So north he went, performing various tasks on his way, supplementing his earnings with a little swindling here and an acquired coin purse or two there. He eventually fell in with a group of mercenaries hired to defend a caravan. They worked quite well together, though they were a very odd lot. He actually found them to be rather entertaining and profitable, though they had a tendency not to get much in the way of repeat business.

Appearance

Gamhuin is unusually tall for a gold dwarf, standing at four and a half feet in height. He has a bold, noble nose, warm walnut colored skin, long straw colored hair that he meticulously grooms and eyes the color of wet sand. His clothing and equipment is finely detailed and of high quality. He has the bearing of a lord and everything about him is fastidiously tidy and perfectly placed and organized, from the placement of his gear to the way his cloak folds and lays over his shoulders.

Resources

Moneys:

Carried Equipment: travel clothes, studded leather, 2x short sword, whip, hand crossbow, scrollcase, coin purse, backpack, bag of ball bearings, 10' string, bell, crowbar, hammer, 10x piton, 2x flask of oil, 2x flask, 5x day-ration, tinderbox, waterskin, 50' rope, common clothes, fine clothes, disguise kit, forgery kit, thieves' tools, smith's tools, weaver's tools, leatherworker's tools

Stored Equipment:

Lifestyle: Poor, 2sp/day (secret).

• Description: Most of the time Gamhuin lives in the attic of a not-so-reputable tavern, having earned the favor of the owner by forging some documents and pulling some strings in the past for her. He occasionally gets to stay in nicer accommodations when he is playing the role of someone of a higher status.

Experience Points

Earned: 0 xp