Hero

Gravatar

Gluteus Crach

level 77

Forty Two! StA

Age 7 years 9 months
Personality neutral
Guild no guild
Monsters Killed about 193 thousand
Death Count 58
Wins / Losses 58 / 64
Temple Completed at 06/26/2012
Wood for Ark 27.6%
Savings 4M, 346k (14.5%)
Pet Philosoraptor Pinky 13th level

Equipment

Weapon molecular disruptor +87
Shield smug self-righteous attitude +86
Head system specs +86
Body dress rehearsal +86
Arms planetary rings +87
Legs antigravity boots +87
Talisman golden calf +85

Skills

  • steel finger level 62
  • pseudopod attack level 57
  • disarming smile level 56
  • thumb beating level 55
  • heel grip level 53
  • bloody itch level 48
  • forced generosity level 47
  • instant hairloss level 45
  • tooth sampling level 42
  • sunstroke level 28

Pantheons

Gratitude3389
Might6325
Templehood1246
Gladiatorship11463
Storytelling463

Achievements

  • Animalist, 1st rank
  • Builder, 1st rank
  • Favorite, 1st rank
  • Champion, 2nd rank
  • Martyr, 2nd rank
  • Saint, 2nd rank
  • Careerist, 3rd rank
  • Hunter, 3rd rank
  • Renegade, 3rd rank
  • Shipwright, 3rd rank

Hero's Chronicles

From nothing, (actually a pork rib) was born a hero.

End over end the pork rib fell from the firmament unto Terra firma, covered in the dust of ages, sticking fast to syrupy sweet finger licking good bar-b-q sauce. Lord Phlag was not pleased. He swore an oath, “Of that fallen rib I make a man in my image whose I.Q is the same as that vile rib. He shall wonder the lands smelling of Hickory in perpetual search of… perpetual search of, hmmm, I will figure that out after a few beers”.

Great Gluteus stumbled forth upon Godville, dazed and confused.

The lord bade strong Gluteus carry the kitten home… And he did.

Lo, then he drank. With vile drink did he squander his lords gold.

His vengeful god punished these transgressions with boils.

And then the mighty Gluteus, oh so mighty, really mighty, found love. Not of himself (for once) but for a fair maiden. He did then confess love for a Snowgirl.

That love soured into wine of which Gluteus partook. He drowned in such sorrow till not but lint fell from his pockets.

At long last he awoke far afield, low in fortitude, parched and suffering cephalalgia… actually, truth be told, twas a pasture, flat on his back, bovine lapping his chops. Convenient, considering Gluteus had soddenly accepted an impossible quest. The ninny had promised to teach a cow to jump over the moon!

Weeks passed, and the cow would not jump. Gluteus bade the bovine beast “Leap whilst the moon is low!” The heifer did not budge. She stood quietly chewing cud. “If I only had a brain” mused the stalwart hero, but that is all together another story.

Sullen and confounded this great warrior fell then to his knees and begged pity from his lord Phlag. Phlag did pity him and lifted the cow high over the moon. The lack of gravity in transit and a bit of mystical mayhem from another, lesser god, transformed the milk in her udder into watermelon wine. Of this Gluteus drank and drank and drank, and drank. His divine guide was a tiny bit peeved, but did not punish, for the spirits were free, and to punish is not.

And now for something entirely different…

One wretched moment the sun did not shine nor did the moon glow to shed light on Gluteus’s path. Darkness was his world. Apparitions flitted to and fro, umbra writhed about him like cheap cigar smoke. There was no up or down, North, South, East, nor West. Silence ruled this kingdom, a thought drifted through a mindful space that was once a hero… If a tree fell would I hear it? Sifting down, a feather drifted by, it echoed… What is a tree? “Cool, did that feather talk?” mused Gluteus. Somewhere a dim light flickered, a brick fell from a load, the sharpest tool in the shed fell on its edge, but not here. The reality of his own death could not jostle this nitwit’s marbles.

A wry smile creased his deities face, Phlag looked down upon this creation and thought “Serves you right my wee minded one. For all of your folly, your profligate life, your insolence, those deaf ears of yours. Lay there upon the earth, equipment and flesh rotting! I have the power to resurrect your sorry bones but not the will. Dead you are, dead ye shall remain. I give to you consciousness in expiration so that you may contemplate your contravention of my command.

Gluteus then recognized his condition, realized fully his god had abandoned him and began to pray… well, sort of.

Hours passed and bugs crawled from the soil to sup, ranging beasts nibbled at his exposed bits, rust tarnished his armor, decay set upon his weapons. Wondering adventurers pilfered his gold and possessions. Some of evil bent took unspeakable liberties of which we will not speak.

Always one to see the glass half full, the man began to consider the benefits of his predicament. “I have decided to not see death as the end but rather a more effective way of cutting down on my expenses.”

A question twittered out upon parchment. “How am I writing in my diary if I’m dead? Does this mean I’m a ghost writer?”

This tickled his God’s funny bone and he smiled upon Gluteus, tapped the holy button of resurrection and life poured forth into what was once carrion.