The Seventh Age of Disdain
Blond hair. Blonde Beard. Blonde Mustache. Six foot. Grrr.
Griz was born the son of a woodcutter and a seamstress.
Unfortunately, his father was a bit too loose with his axe, and one day lobbed off his own foot while trying to cut down a stubborn cedar. Even more unfortunate was the fact that a deadly ancient wolf had woken up in the forest not that same day, and gone attacking his family, hoping for a quick snack to settle its long empty belly.
Hearing the cries of his wife and child in the far distance, for a father is prone to have such sharp hearing where loved ones are concerned, Gagwahl, for that was Griz’s fathers name, drove the end of his axe up into his leg, making himself an impromptu new appendage.
Gagwahl’s house was a wreck, the giant wolf having torn the wooden structure to pieces with its blood lusting fangs and heart seeking claws. The mother had already been devoured, and Gaghwahl saw his loves blood dripping from the beasts claws. Already, these fangs were descending down towards his only son, Griz.
Stirred to rage beyond what even the gods are capable of, Gagwahl charged the wolf and tackled the beast to the ground. Biting and scratching, the two fought before Griz like wild animals. One seeking a fine feast, the other seeking the safety of his son.
The two battled on, until finally, an arm short of himself, Gagwahl drove his axefoot into the beasts neck not once, not twice, not thrice, but seven full times till it sheered off! Both then fell amidst the splinters and rubble of the once great log house, bleeding out their lasts breath.
Griz went to his fathers side, and his father took hold of his son and made him promise to become something greater than he, so he would not end houseless and pennyless as he and his mother had. Griz promised he would do so as his father gave his last breath, and turned to leave the wreckage he could no longer call home.
But, as everyone knows, a wolfs head can still bite, even if it is separated from its body. The beast lunged forward, mouth wide, eyes aflamed with fury.
Now, wether it was the gods, destiny, or some great miracle, Griz turned as the wolfs head came, and he caught the sides of its jaws with his hands. With a scream mixed with fury, rage, and loss the likes of which even the gods cannot utter, Griz broke the jaw of the wolf and tossed it aside, swearing a sleu of curses I shall not put down on parchment.
Surprisingly, one of the wolfs eyes looked at Griz when his cursing ended, and a dark and powerful spirit rose up from the dead beasts body. The world grew cold and the sky grew dark. The wolf cursed Griz, and told him as penance for he and his father ending his life, he must go and care for the wolfs pups as if they were his own, lest his spirit never go to Valhalla, and he be doomed to never see his parents again.
Knowing this to be no jest by the wolf, Griz sought out the so-called pups and did as he was bade. In time, Griz grew to love the wolves, and became familiar of the ways in which to tame many a wild animal. Still, once the pups were grown, Griz knew he had to leave the forest and the coastal lands in order to seek fame and fortune, if he were to make his father and mothers spirit rest in peace.
So, with the three great wolves at his side, and not a penny to his name, Griz set out to seek fame and fortune across the great lands in this, the seventh age of disdain.