Grüghil Magmabane (/gru.gʰil/)
God of Smiths, Flame, and Volcanoes Grüghil Magmabane
Grüghil? Ah he was a right bastard. Never met a dwarf so surly nor so dedicated to his craft. He used to be friendlier ya know, but after his kin died... Well, not worth mentioning that. He was a great dwarf and he is a greater god. We're lucky to have him walk amongst us.
Tale of Ascension
Grüghil Magmabane of the Dwarves was born to the sound of clanging hammers and the smell of burning wood. He was raised proud and strong by his clan and their home. The dwarves lived throughout the northern ranges and made them their home, their largest citadel situated next to a volcano known as the Flaming Maw. Grüghil enjoyed his youth and thrived amongst the forges, learning everything he could about anvil and iron. All would change when the 4th Sector opened a portal in the Maw. It was from there that the Sector of Wrath began their invasion as across the world the other sectors joined the attack. From the 4th Sector came demons of fire and their hellbeasts. Upon realizing that the dwarves lived nearby, the demons began targeting them vehemently believing they would be a threat. Fortifying themselves in their citadels, the dwarves resisted for a time, and the demons gradually turned their attention elsewhere, leaving their beasts to wander the area effectively being a patrol to deter the dwarves from leaving their citdel. But the beasts began to hunger, hunting the lands bare, they turned to the citadel. The hellbeasts could smell dwarf flesh just beyond stone walls so their assault started. Over decades of attack, the hellbeasts had seemingly gotten bigger and stronger. Their horns soldifying to become akin to battering rams. Unable to endlessly shore up the crumbling walls, the dwarves began their preparations for battle in earnest. Grüghil took to the forges, hammer ringing against metal as he forged breastplate after breastplate and axe after axe. He never thought the day would come when he would have to stand against one. Ghil was bringing a round of supplies to the warriors standing guard when the final wall split. With a crack like thunder, they caught a glimpse of the beast's mantle. The biggest beast stood tall as an oak at the shoulder, and its blackened hide glowed wherever there were gaps in the plates. Another thunder clap seemed to sound as the beast charged again. The sound took the dwarves to their knees, heads ringing. The warriors were just starting to stand around him as the beast broke through. The call to charge came and their bravest rushed forward, axes bouncing uselessly off its hide. It stomped down sending them flying. Suddenly Grüghil found his legs again and he scrambled up and fled, hollering that the walls had been breached. His fellow dwarves raced around him like a river rushing to battle, taking those who could not fight away. He was distantly aware of his mother and father charging past him, axes drawn. A clap on the shoulder as his brothers thanked him for the warning and charged away, assuring him he could rest for a moment before taking up arms. Could he fight? He had never raised his hands for more than swinging a hammer to forge. By the time he had finished his warnings and caught his breath the battle was done. They had turned them back for the moment, but at what cost? Bodies strewn around the grand hall, the Ancient Terra's healers wandering, offering last rites and healing where they could. Guilt began to consume him, would there be fewer casualties if he had been here fighting? Should he have kept spreading the word or should he have trusted his clan to put it together for themselves? His heart seemed to drop into his stomach as one of the healers approached him, his eyes full of pity. He wasn't hurt, why was a healer coming towards him? Ghil glanced around wildly, panic swelling in his chest, there was no one else he could be approaching. Blood roared in his ears and he felt himself going numb as the healer explained that his kin had sacrificed themselves to turn the beasts back. That through their sacrifice they had learned the hellbeasts' weakness. None of it seemed to matter, quite suddenly, in a place he had always felt warm and surrounded by people he could love and trust, he felt quite alone and cold. Weeks passed as the dwarves began pulling together. Repairs were made to the breached wall and raiding parties started being sent out to keep the beasts back. They watched, observed, and fought. Yet they could not kill. Grüghil, for his part, had thrown himself into battle and forge. He stopped only to eat and sleep briefly before throwing himself back into his work. He created sharper weapons, stronger armor, honed his techniques against dummies. He went out on every raid he could, read every report that came in. His clan was worried for him, but nothing could deter him. Then the day came that they created a plan to defeat the hellbeasts once and for all. They would lure the beasts to the edge of the Flaming Maw and force them over the edge. If they could take down the biggest beast, the one they called the Alpha, then they might win.With a battlecry that seemed to shake the mountain to its core, Grüghil leapt at the hellbeast, driving his battle axe in between the plates to the molten core beneath. It stumbled back, each lumbering step shaking the ground. Ghil distantly heard the sounds of his clan calling out to him, but instead of heeding them he braced his axe against his armored shoulder and drove the blade deeper into the beast. It gave a pained groan and began to fall. Down, down, and down, the two plunged into the depths of the Flaming Maw. He shut his eyes tight, he could feel the heat beginning to burn as they plunged. It hurt so desperately, but the feel of his axe lodged in the Alpha served as a comfort. Without a leader, the remaining beasts would easily be driven back now. He had done it, he had saved his home, he could finally rest and see his kin...How long had they been falling? He found he couldn't recall. Quite suddenly, he felt the burning lava cool to a pleasant warmth. He cracked an eye open, looking around. When had he let go of his axe? Where was the beast? Suddenly Grüghil found himself aware of the starry sky far above him, floating gently on the surface of the lava. He raised an arm to look at it, expecting to see nothing, or maybe through something. Instead he was met with blackened plates of stone with glowing magma showing between the gaps. "What on Terra...." he murmured, turning his arm to look at it. Sure as the metal he forged it was his arm. He tried to sit up and found the lava sturdying beneath him to take his weight. He stood up and with a sudden thought of "perhaps" he tried to step up. Lava surged to meet him step for step as he began climbing out of the volcano. "I want to get there faster," he thought, then the lava was pushing him up and within moments he found himself standing at the rim. Ghil looked down at himself, vaguely noting he would need a new set of clothes and armor. He found himself looking as he once did, as he stared out over the mountains. Even in the face of a harsh battle, it looked so peaceful. He looked over his shoulder at the smoldering portal that floated just above the ground on a rocky shelf in the volcano's mouth. So long as that thing was open, there could never be peace here. As he began to trudge toward it, he was vaguely aware of a rippling feeling. He saw in his peripheral that the magma plates were back. With aid from the lava, he stepped down to the portal's ledge, staring into the fiery abyss on the other side. Already the infernal place was twisting the world, hellfire licking his calves from tiny geysers that had formed. Grüghil had never been very skilled with magic, using his strength and finesse to create beautiful and deadly works. What had he done when he had an old frame of gold that needed to be collapsed? With a grunt of approval, he grasped the portal's edges. Even with the plates protecting him, a sizzling hiss rose from his palms and he bit back a scream. The spinning energy of the portal's edge seemed to cut into him, but he began to twist counter-clockwise forcing the portal smaller and smaller. The smaller the portal was made, the hotter it seemed to burn, but the Smith kept going. Finally, when he could bear it no longer he let go and fell to his knees. The portal was now so small that all that remained was a trickle of liquid hellfire. Grüghil sat on his knees, panting, his hands burned and bleeding. "Come, Magmabane. You look like you could use a rest," a soft voice said. He went to look at the source of the voice but his vision was already going dark. The thud of hitting the ground never came and when he came to, he was shrouded in darkness on a soft bed. In the coming days he would come to learn of his ascension to godhood and see the menhir that marked the spot he had fallen from into the volcano. With the title of God of Smiths, Volcanoes, and Flame, he became the champion god of the dwarves even split among the magma dwarves, the mountain dwarves, and the Wandering Dwarves.
Mental characteristics
Accomplishments & Achievements
Defeat of the Hellbeast
Failures & Embarrassments
Fleeing the Hellbeast
Aliases
Ghil, Magmabane,
Ghil, Magmabane,
Honorary & Occupational Titles
God of Smiths, Volcanoes, and Flame, The Drake, The Smith, Magmabane
Children
Pronouns
he/him/his
Sex
Male
Gender
Man
Presentation
Masculine
Eyes
Storm grey, small, often squinted against smoke
Hair
Ginger hair and beard. Beard is usually braided and hair is loose or tied back in a bushy ponytail.
Skin Tone/Pigmentation
Tan and leathery like a farmer who's been out in the sun
Height
4'8" or 1.4 m
Weight
150lbs or 68kg
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