Born to a peasant family which could not afford yet another mouth to
feed, Hamund, who was developing twice as slowly as their other children and
eating twice as much, was offered to the local monastery as a free laborer.
The brothers took him in, as was their nature, and fed and clothed him in
exchange for his services. At this, he excelled. He ran messages from town
to town. He washed clothes, and stocked food, and eventually found his
calling as Groundskeeper. Hamund had worked for many years to reach this
esteemed position, and he took great pride in preening the statuesque
inhabitants of the garden to utmost perfection.
Little did anyone know, that during those many years of gardening, Hamund
spent much of his time watching the brothers practice their sacred martial
arts. Watching, and learning, that is. In the wee hours of the night, he
would perfect his styles with an unmatched attention to detail. Though some
would call Hamund dim-witted, he was unfettered by thoughts of pleasantries
and dreams of fancy. This made him the perfect student, and every brother
was his master.
One day, two rival schools of brothers came to blows in the courtyard. Two
of the boys, those known as Lao Pei and Kun Sung, had been at each other's
throats for months, each one clambering for the favor of the masters, and
willing to go to any length to sully the reputation of the other. Lao Pei,
who was generally a kind boy, full of promise, fell victim to the bullying
of the older and crueller, Kun Sung. During a sparring match, he struck out
at Kun Sung, crushing his windpipe. Kun Sung did not die that day, as many
had anticipated, and during his recovery, he became bitter and dark. He
planned his revenge, and drew several brothers to his aid.
One night, they caught Lao Pei in the gardens. And would have murdered him,
if not for Master Hamund. Stepping in to protect the young Lao against
three intermediates, he disabled the boys in mere moments. I know, because
I was watching from the ramparts. The boys returned with the rest of their
friends, ready to teach Hamund a lesson. This time, it would be ten-on-one.
Master Hamund flew through the stances with ease, blending ferocity and
patience in one.
If not for his courageous heart, and kind spirit, our monastery would have
suffered a tremendous loss that day. It is for this, that we have promoted
Hamund to the rank of Master. He is free to come and go as he pleases, to
contemplate the greater wisdom and reach enlightenment, so that he may one
day become a Grandmaster in his own right.
Signed - The Grandmaster of Orchids
Description:
This lumbering giant of a man possesses none of the menacing characteristics one of his stature might otherwise possess. His features, in fact, are rather soft, like those of a child. He has sandy brown hair, which, although unkempt and uneven, is cut in the fashion of the monastery. He has that plain, freckled face which marks him as the illegitimate offspring of some lowborn family, with a sloping forehead and closely spaced eyes. Dried spittle is caked about his thick lips, and a trail of dribble runs down his jutting chin. His yellowed teeth are in a terrible state of disrepair, and he stinks of alcohol, dirt, and sweat. A dim-witted simpleton then, spared the life of a beggar and instead indebted to one of servitude. There is, surprisingly however, something unnerving in his gaze. A sparkle in his eyes saying he is not to be trifled with. Or perhaps, and more likely, those ham-sized fists are doing all the talking for him.
