Griznuq Gaming

[The time when this happens is to be determined.]

Garbh?n arrives at the horse pen after returning from his duties.  The sun is low in the sky, and he has not had his evening meal.  After hopping the rail into the pen, he breaks from his normal routine of tending to all of the horses and seeks out his horse.  After locating her and saddling her, he leads the horse out through the gate pen.

"How about a bit of a work out, mm?"

Outside along the length of the pen, Garbh?n hangs a sack filled with sand from one of the rail posts.  He picks up his Horse Spear (some would call it a lance) and after mounting the horse, rides it down to the end of the pen.  He turns the horse around, pauses, and charges.  He holds the rein with one hand, the other hand holding the Spear so its blade points skyward.  As he rides, he drops the reins and draws his knees in to the animal, guiding the horse with his legs.  Both hands lift the Spear high above his head, the haft of the long Spear horizontal with the ground, the blade of the Spear pointing in the direction of his charge.

As the horse thunders by the sack of sand, Garbh?n stabs down with the Spear blade with a motion that resembles a man in a canoe bringing a paddle down to stab the water.  The Spear blade strikes, the haft of the Spear bends from the impact.  The haft of a normal spear may have snapped from such a blow, but the Horse Spear of the northern horsemen were crafted to bow and bend upon impact.  [Picture the pole of a pole vaulter bending as the vaulter launches himself...this is how I envisioned the Horse Spear looking when it strikes.]

Garbh?n continues to run his horse to the other length of the horse pen, holding the Spear with one hand, its blade once again pointing skyward.  He trots the horse back to the sand bag, expecting to see sand flowing from a hole in the bag.  Instead, Garbh?n notices a fresh nick on the fence post just above the sack.  Garbh?n looks at it for a moment, frowning thoughtfully.

"Let's try again, girl.  This time, don't run so fast."

Garbh?n (pronounced "GAHR-van") is a hard-looking man.  He has a weathered, brooding face with hard features.  He is soft-spoken, tending to taciturnity, and when he does speak, he uses plain and direct words with the accent of the northern plainsmen.

His black hair is short and closely cropped to his head, save for a short ponytail centered at the back of his head.  His large, black mustache covers his mouth.  His eyes are clear and sharp, and his glaring stare has been known to intimidate and unnerve opponents.  He is serious and humorless, often ignoring jokes and other displays of levity.

As a horseman, Garbh?n prefers to spend his time with horses, and most of his spare time is occupied with these animals.  As an animal handler, he is watchful of these horses, searching for any potential problems with the animals' ability to preform work.  He tends to be distrustful on the words of others when it comes to horses: if he is told that a horse is shoed properly, he will want to see each foot of that horse for himself.