Grim Grey

male human binder 3
NG Medium humanoid (human)
**Init** +0; **Senses** Listen +0, Spot +0
**Languages** Common, Planar Trade, Dwarven

**AC** 14 (+4 Armor) touch 10, flat-footed 14
**HP** 26/26 (3d8+6)
**Fort** +5, **Ref** +1, **Will** +3

**Speed** 30 feet
**Melee** mwk morningstar +6 (1d8+4/x2)
**Base Atk** +2; **Grapple** +5
**Combat Options**

**Vestige Bound**

**Abilities** Str 16, Dex 10, Con 14, Int 14, Wis 10, Cha 14
**SQ** soul binding (1 vestige), pact augmentation (1 ability), suppress sign
**Feats** Improved Binding, Expel Vestige, Ignore Special Requirements
**Skills** Bluff +3, Decipher Script +4, Diplomacy +4, Gather Information +4, Intimidate +8, Knowledge (Arcana) +6, Knowledge (Religion) +5, Knowledge (The Planes) +8, Knowledge (History) +4, Sense Motive +2
**Possessions** grey cloak, grey pants, grey tunic, Backpack, 50' Silk Rope, 2 Torches, 2 waterskins, 1-week rations, black boots, Coin Purse, mwk morning Star, Flint and Steel, mwk Chain Shirt, Signal Horn (Devilish), Black Feather from Marcosius, dracotaur diary, flier (planar trade announcement about Vecna), *everburning torch*, ghostwall shellac x6, hammer, iron spike x5, *everlasting rations*, mwk rapier, *unidentified gem (forehead - radiates moderate conjuration)*, *unidentified ring*, *unidentified belt (very strong magical aura)*, infernal platinum coin, wooden coin, 25 SP, 52 GP

**Soul Binding**
**Pact Augmentation (1 Ability)**
**Suppress Sign**

**Backstory** Grim Grey is from the city of *Pell*, on the planet *Megatron* in the *Prime Material Plane*. Grim grew up in the woodlands outside *Pell*, the son of a simple woodcutter. When he was very young, his family was wiped out during the many battles that took place in and around that war-torn city. Adopted by a gruff old dwarf named Ragmir GreyAxe, Grim worked as an apprentice to the blacksmith from the time he was a wee lad of 7 years.

Unable to sleep one night, Grim awoke to find Ragmir was gone. Creeping out of the small cabin they shared on the edge of the woods just outside *Pell*, Grim eventually came upon his kind old master performing some sort of dark ritual. Confused, Grim confronted Ragmir - he had learned from some friends that wizarding was an evil art. "Ain't nothin' to worry on, me boy," Ragmir said. "I always meant to learn you how to bind, just as me old Grandpap once showed me many a year back. Come let me teach you how to draw the marks as he once taught me..." As a tribute to his old master, Grim took part of Ragmir's surname for his own and called himself Grim Grey from that day forward. Truth be told, it had a better ring to it than Grim Forester. He learned to call out to the vestiges in the dwarven tongue, and over the years his esteem for his old friend only grew. Unfortunately, there were those who saw the art that Ragmir practiced as an abomination and those who practiced it as purveyors of an unspeakable evil.

Grim had often shared a laugh (and a pint) with other young men who lived in the forest. His best friends were probably the Cooper boys, young Edrick and Markin. Grim spent many a day forging the hoops while the twins bent the staves to make barrels. One day they didn't show up for work, and Grim went looking for them. He found the boys drunk in their hut with their hands bandaged. Edrick held up his hand, exclaiming proudly "father made sure we were officially part of The Hand of Four! He says we don't have to do our chores until our stumps heal!" Markin simply cried, holding his mangled left hand to his chest. Both of them had had a finger cut off, as a sign they weren't magic users. It seems the Coopers, like many of the poor living outside *Pell*, had fallen under the sway of the Hand of the Four, a group which abhorred magic users of all kinds. They blamed them for all of *Megatron's* many problems, and the nearly endless fighting which ravished the countryside. Grim shook his head sadly and went home. It was only later he would remember telling the twins about the secret he and Ragmir shared. By then it would be too late...

Late one night, long after Ragmir usually settled down to sleep, he had yet to return home from town. Grim stayed up, wondering anxiously what was keeping the old dwarf. He couldn't see too well anymore, and Grim was a bit worried he may have lost his way along the forest trails while making his way home. When the door burst open with a bang, Grim jumped up in fright. "There be no time to waste, me boy! Take this key and go to our fishing hole. Walk a five-time around our old oak tree nearby and you will surely begone afore they come for ya!" Ragmir exclaimed. His eyes glowed like blue fire, and he had wicked looking rams horns curling out from his forehead. Grim knew what was happening; Ragmir had spoken with dread about The Four and their growing influence. As Grim ran through the night, he heard the sounds of battle and a bright flash of fire erupted behind him. Ragmir wouldn't go down without a fight. Grim had heard many a tale of *Sigil* and the outer planes sitting before the fireplace as a boy. He would make his fortune there and return to *Pell* one day to avenge his old friend. The Hand of Four would pay. As he went around the old oak for the fifth time, the key in his hand glowed bright white and he walked out of the forest of his youth, and into his new life as a planewalker.