Snarky old magic-user with a vendetta
AC 6 / HP 5
Dagger, thrown THAC10 11 (+3 TH)
Dagger, melee THAC10 11
L1: Memorized: Sleep, Unseen Servant, Feather Fall; Default: Magic Missile; Ritual: Detect Magic, Identify, Find Familiar; Innate: Read Magic, Write
Simon Granger was born 53 years ago to parents of modest means living in Greyhawk City. Though trained by his father into the profession of cartography, from an early age Simon showed a fascination – and more than mere propensity – with magic. Being an autodidact, he in fact taught himself a few cantrips from the public books available at the Mages’ Guild. His aptitude was noticed by one of the school’s mentors, an eccentric wizardress called Shagra Irontooth, who took him as a student for nearly a decade.
In his twenty-eighth Spring, while studying at a cafe near the Guild, he met his soon-to-be wife Theresa. The two of them fell in love in a heartbeat. Simon withdrew suddenly from the Mages’ Guild, and the two moved to the country, setting up a profitable cattle farm on the outskirts of Hommlet. Soon, children came, and theirs was a bustling household, and the family were well known to the village and its frequent visitors.
Simon had everything he wanted until a month ago. While he was in Hommlet for the day trading a calf for much-needed supplies, his farm was raided by an orcs. When he arrived at the farm that night, he found it demolished, the cattle stolen. At the farmhouse, his eldest daughter Katje had skewered one of the Red Hand raiders with a pitchfork before having her gut ripped open. Theresa had been struck down from behind, trying to defend his younger sons. Wait, no, son! Where was 4-year-old Garmon?! Oh gods, hopefully his body was burnt, undiscernible among the ashes…
Searching for any clues as to the whereabouts of this criminal band, he rummaged the stinking corpse of the orc that slew his daughter. Its brethren had stripped it to its boots and britches, yet during the gruesome inspection, Simon realized this was no savage orc, but a half-orc! Half-orcs were most rare and generally thought foul in Greyhawk, but if stories were true, they were never accepted in orc clans! What could it be doing among orcs? Further, there was a distinctive tattoo on its shoulder, which to Simon looked like an under-barred numeral nine.
_ IX _
Simon, it seemed, was the latest victim of a gradually escalating series of raids on the Hommlet countryside, this being the worst yet with 3 dead and a herd of cattle stolen. Simon of course had heard how Old Jim was found dead in a ditch not half a mile from his farm, and how a few merchants were taking longer roads around Hommlet to avoid the attacks and disappearances that had started this Spring.
All his love dead, stolen or destroyed, Simon swore vengeance against the Red Hand.
After a fortnight of silence from the decimation of the once-lovely Overlook Farm, a dark man strode out. The figure locked the doors behind him for good, quietly armed with half a dozen knives, an old spellbook carefully hidden in his pack. None knowing Simon Granger would recognize this robed man with hardness in his eyes and determination on his mouth, for Mizraith in posture and bearing shows little resemblance to that relaxed and kindly farmer.