Class & Level: Stonechild 6/Warblade 4
Alignment: Neutral Good
With rough, gray skin and a stony bulk, Maul looks like a powerful human made out of stone.
He has no hair, and his eyes are shades of gray like granite.
Tough, reliable, and focused on the utilitarian, Maul gets along with most people. Maul makes his own way in life,
keeping a balance between following the rules and laws of others and adhering to his own sense of honor.
Maul was born to a widow of a blacksmith. His father had courted her for months, lavishing her with gifts of precious metals and gems, but as soon as she was with child, the man diapered leaving her to raise the child her self. Though, she belives he still watches over them, she some times finds ingots of gold and raw gems in the fresh turned dirt of her garden. She loved her child as only a mother could, despite his obvious differences, Maul was a large child right from the start. Strong and oft to smart for his own good. She taught him to think before he acted. By the time Maul was a teen he was as large as most men, he had also found the blacksmiths tools that his Mothers Husband had left behind. Over the years he taught his self to use them, even going to far as to craft a few crude weapons and armors. As the years went by his mother's health deteriorated. Roughly around his twenty fifth year she grew very ill, he tried to tend to her but knew he could not heal, he bundled her up and carried her to the closest town. Until this point he had never left there small home, he had never seen people beyond his mother, nor had the towns folk see the likes of him. They were afraid of him, thinking that he had some how hurt the Blacksmiths widow, they attacked him and tryed to "save" the widow from the monster. He defended his self as best he could, his powerful blows nearly killed a few of the men. He ran with his mother back to there home and shut them in, fearing for his life and hers. He did the best he could, but in the end she died. He dug a grave and cried over the fresh turned earth, kneeling before her grave marker he had made. There he sat for a score of days, Praying to whom would listen for guidance. Hunger ultimately moved him, he gathered what belongings they had, the few raw gems and ingots his mother had saved and the crude weapons he had made for his self. Once away from the small village he began selling his arm as a guard and mercenary. He tried his hand at being a Blacksmith but found he could not compete with more skilled craftsmen. So he fights and guards and moves from place to place, never staying to long, trying to find a new home for his self.