Short and stocky are the politest ways to describe such an old and ‘respected’ dwarf as Gran Hammerfist. Less polite ways include phrase like ‘bloody weird’ and ‘undwarven’. Where once his beard was a respectable white, it is now streaked with different colours, the origin of which no-one is sure about.
He still wears thick leathers, a throwback to his time as a berserker, many years before he took over the running of Arromere’s premier adventuring inn the Skewered Porpoise. His eyes are dark grey, the colour of slate; though it is impossible to tell behind the goggles of pink glass he always wears. Those that see Gran’s feet for the first time are often surprised to find that they are clad in open toed leather sandals, and not the traditional heavy boots of his kinsmen. It is rumoured that Gran has kept all of his traditional armour in a lockbox, though none have seen it.
Unlike many of his dwarven kinsmen Gran is incredibly soft spoken, and many Halflings and Elves have often commented that he speaks as if he has been abusing the leaves of the woods. He is prone to bouts of incredibly zen thinking and, while most of what he says can be treated as complete nonsense, has been known to impart nuggests of wisdom to the adventurers that frequent his inn.
Despite his laid back attitude it is well known that Gran was once a fearsome and venerated berserker, and as such there is very little trouble in the Skewered Porpoise, no-one wanting to test how far his laid back attitude extends.
Gran Hammerfist is the 178 year old descendant of Godrik Hammercrag, whose death at the hand of the goliaths caused one of the largest grudges in recent times. Once known for his prowess with almost every kind of weapon he was counted as one of the greatest beserkers in all of Isminak.
Many songs have been written about his exploits protecting the expansive Vycarian Spires and surrounding areas and his victories fighting against the many Trolls and Ogres that attempted to settle on the ancestral lands. None however are as well known as the tale of his defeat at the hands of the troll Vickul thirty-five years ago.
The troll had been stalking the Vycarian Spires for several months, picking off small groups of dwarves who were going to, or from, the various mining stations and quarrys within the spires. Sent by Kevaver Runehouse to deal with the troll the two clashed at the south-western most edge of the high spires. Both were equally matched in skill, ferocity and determination and the fight raged for hours until, destabilised by a lucky blow from the trolls club, the rocks beneath Gran’s feet gave way and he tumbled into the treacherous Slag Valleys hundreds of feet below.
Emboldened by his victory, the troll sought to assault the entrance to the Thanedom itself, marching upon Valgan’s Passage where, to his surprise, he was cut down by a thousand crossbows from the gate’s defenders. Gran, alive but badly injured from his fall, wandered the Slag Valleys for months before being found by a group of travelling halflings and returned to the Marble Citadel. Gran spent months recovering from the physical injuries caused by his fall, but a blow to the head had greatly changed his personality.
No longer a man who lusted for combat and glory Gran moved to Arrowmere where he purchased the Skewered Porpoise with a small amount of his great wealth, which he has run ever since. It is unknown if Gran’s personality will ever revert to the way it was before the accident.