He wields a 200 lbs 7’ halberd, an axe-spear-hammer version. He has a special ownership of the weapon, and can wield it at 1/10th of its original weight. The great steel behemoth is capable of being wielded as lightly as a wooden staff. He can get in touch with Mother Earth, Gaia, and thus is able to manipulate the living and breathing earth and wood. The power of earth also makes his skin tough like stone. However he cannot create flying projectiles, he can create walls and stalagmites out of the materials. Exclusively for the earth he can crack open fissures, his wooden stalagmites once appeared, can then turn into whips or restraints. He excels in Krav Maga for fist fighting, on par with a 2nd Dan expert. He is a brutal and mechanical fighter, not giving ground and constantly pressuring his enemies. He can heal by getting in touch with Gaia through meditation on solid ground, but this causes extreme concentration and thus cannot be used in battle.

He wears light leather armor, linked together by chainmail. His gauntlets are the only ones made of a heavy steel, they are adorned with spikes. He is a large 6’4” fighter who has short brown spike hair and a thick walrus moustache with a scraggly beard that goes to his chest. His eyes are a lovely pine green, and he loves nature. His voice is deep and bass like, and he enjoys talking and singing. He’s very social and enjoys drinking.

He sees fighting as honorable and something to be revered. He finds that a warrior should not shy from death so he despises those who beg or are without honor. He is a large homely person, he’s kind to everyone but violent to enemies, and is close to his friends and willing to protect them with his life. He is quick to make friends, but doesn’t make friends during battle. No one is spared from his weapon, unless they are already friends.

Though he can wield the large weapon as if it was just a pole, his defense is not perfect. He relies on his stony skin to protect himself, but strong or sharp metal weapons can pierce it. His aggressive and offensive fighting style is dangerous and so close combat is a challenge, but he is vulnerable to ranged attacks. His earth and wood spikes can only grow so far. He also has tell-tale signs of when he uses his power. When he stomps, a wall or a stalagmite will appear, and a sweeping action brings upon fissures. Magic is a major weakness, his stone skin unable to stop such attacks, but his walls can. His speed and weapon speed is on par with a sword wielder, but loses to martial artists. Though when faced against a hand to hand fighter, he would usually abandon his own weapon and fight using his steel gauntlets. He is still human, so fatigue can happen, but his stamina and vitality are double that of a normal man.

Grigori was originally a woodsman, he lived in the wild and survived off what the Earth gave him. He grew close to the power and will of the Wild, and worshipped Gaia, Mother Earth. Though cutting down trees was his living, he would barely reach his quota, trying to preserve as much as nature as he could. However, during a major war, he was drafted as a soldier, and was forced to abandon his axe. There he used a spear and his peak physicality from chopping trees turned him into a major asset for the army. He quickly climbed the ranks and as a promotion award, he was given a hammer. The swinging and heaviness was closer to his axe so he became close to the weapon. During a particular nasty raid from the enemy, the hammer was destroyed by the enemy’s mages. He raged on though, beating away at men with his steel gauntlets. Finally restrained and captured, he was taken to the enemy’s city where he became a gladiator. His new partner was a halberd, and his life became a living hell. Killing animals, the supernatural, comrades, other gladiators, and prisoners every day, he became a legend. Then one day he was set free, the king was merciful and gave Grigori this boon. He left for the woods with his halberd and began living as one with the woods again. He became a hermit and grew closer to Gaia. The goddess was proud of this man and blessed him with powers to use her powers. He moved far away and lived peacefully until another war raged. He looked at his rusted and disused halberd and loathed to pick it up again. Then one day he exited his house and went to a patch of trees that lived the abandoned animals he was raising. When he reached the clearings he was horrified to see a major army camp. The trees he grew were chopped down for fire, the animals slaughtered for food and fur. Enraged he let the power of the earth surge through him. Both wood and rock stalagmites destroyed tents and impaled enemies, he beat any who was close to him to death and razed the camp to the ground. He collected the weapons and armor, leaving the dead to become fertilizer and food for the wild. With the metal he crafted a beautiful halberd, and Mother Gaia blessed him as her champion and blessed the halberd so it would not rust, dull, or break. After the war ended, he moved on to live in the woods near Stickpage City, planning on living anew.

Three armies clashed in bloody warfare over the lands of Iliondor. The army of Grandon, the army of Sellons, and the one man army, Grigori. He entered the hellish mess on the side of nature, determined to protect it from the filth of war.
Grigori looked through his visor at the armies that laid before him. The two had created a temporary truth to first take down the smaller yet powerful force that stood before them. The axe head of his halberd glinted in the noon sun and with a quick spin he charged down, bellowing a roar that trembled the ground. Stalagmites erupted out of the ground and impaled ranks, fissures cracked open to swallow soldiers, and walls erected to hide Grigori from the rain of arrows. His axe hewed and slew his enemies, his spear point found the kinks in his enemies’ armor, and the hammer beat through shields. He reigned within the battlefield, decimating the two combined armies. Soon numbers began bearing on him, and fatigue kicked in. He became sluggish and wounds began appearing on his body. Doggedly he battled on, and though tired and wounded, soon the soldiers backed away with fear from this seemingly indestructible juggernaut.
Grigori stood alone in dead man’s land, the two armies departing to rest for the day. He sat onto the bloodied ground and let his fingers knead into the ground. Calming his breathes, he meditated and became in touch with Gaia. Her power flowed through him and healed his wounds and fatigue. She embraced him within her warm bosom and he slowly fell asleep, safe now in the earthy cocoon wrapped around him.
He awoke the next morning, and emerging from his protection he noticed how the two armies simply surrounded him. Suddenly a man rode up to him, “I’m an envoy from both armies.” He declared, “The kings find you as an honorable opponent, but ask for you to withdraw from this war. They pledge that they will stay away from the woods.”
“Their pledge, their promise, means nothing!” Grigori waved his hand, “The nature will never be safe as long as this war goes on.”
The envoy continued, “If you refuse to back down, they are determined to use their strongest soldiers to bring them your head.”
Grigori laughed, “Let them come! I shall face any warrior brave enough to fight me!”
The envoy shook his head, “You have been warned, be prepared for your foolish demise.” He began riding back to the camp, but Grigori stamped the ground, and a stalagmite grew out of the ground, impaling the horse and man. He made the stalagmite grow taller, and soon the impaled corpses hung like a standard above him, boasting his challenge. A man pulled himself from the ranks and began marching towards Grigori. He wore heavy armor, and his helmet resembled the head of a great bull. He carried a great sword and charged, the ground shook under his feet. Grigori erected a stalagmite but it didn’t even puncture the man’s armor. Grigori then grew a wall but the man cleaved through it with his blade. Excited, Grigori drew his halberd and charged to meet his foe. The two weapons clashed, and his axe’s blade scratched against the serrated edge of the massive great sword. They separated with a shower of sparks and the man saluted.
“I am from the Grandon army, I am General Lukes. This fight will be an honor.”
“Grigori, and it’s an honor fighting you as well.” Grigori spun his halberd and charged again, this time going for a lunge, his spear tip glinting menacingly. Lukes blocked it with his sword and let it slide across, disturbing Grigori’s balance. Grigori leaned forward, and with a stomp of his feet, he changed the attack into a great spin swing with the hammer. It collided against the general’s shoulder and dented the armor. The man’s leg dug furrows as the force shook him. “That’s some impressive armor.” Grigori whistled.
“It was made from the bones and scales of a dragon.” The general answered, “That weapon of yours is even more impressive.” He swung his blade, and it tore through Grigori’s leather plates, rasping against the chainmail. Grigori counterattacked with a swing from his axe and it caught onto the man’s side. He pulled out and went into a deadly combo, relentlessly beating away with one of his three weapons in a sequence that force Lukes to blocked fervently, unable to counterattack. Grigori’s shoulder wound seeped blood as he strained himself to swing faster. I have to pierce that armor, somewhere, anywhere! He beat away and finally a chip flew off from a vicious axe blow. Grigori followed it with a stalagmite that punctured through the weak spot, skewering the inside flesh. He hauled General Lukes into the air and saluted.
“The battle was amazing, you can die with grace and honor.” Lukes coughed blood and a smile flickered across his face when his life left his body. Grigori brought the spike back down and picked up the body. He carried it to the Grandon army and placed him down respectfully at their feet. “Your general was a great man, and I will not let his death be in vain. I will depart from the war against your army.” Grigori turned and faced the Sellons army, “Bring out your best fighter.”
“I’m right here.” Someone whispered behind him. Grigori turned but felt a stab on his wounded shoulder. He turned and saw a shadowy figure flip over him. Standing before him was an assassin. “I am the general and punisher of the Sellons army, General Erik.”
“You call yourself a general and yet still attempt such a cowardly back stab? Have you no pride or shame?”
The man spat, “I don’t buy into this chivalry honor, what matters in the end is who dies and who lives. And you’re going to die, that knife I just stabbed you with is covered in a nerve poison that’ll slowly paralyze and kill you, but not until you go through a torturous death.” He cackled. “Now to get your blood to pump faster, how about I entertain you in your last moments of death?” Grigori stamped his feet, and stalagmites grew around Erik, piercing the space he just occupied. He jumped into the air nimbly and guessing his landing, Grigori erected more stalagmites. The man drew his sword and dug into the stone, then safely tumbled out of the way. Grigori was waiting for him as he landed, and with a vicious roar he charged and swung his axe. The man blocked the sword and his body bent to absorb the impact.
As he bounced away Grigori remarked, “You’re not human!”
The man smiled and bent his hand back until it touched his forearm, “Yes endless experimentation has turned me into a being like rubber. I can repel any magical attack and can withstand any impact.” He bounded forward and stabbed, Grigori intercepted with the halberd’s handle and grunted as the man stabbed viciously again with a knife. The poison made Grigori nauseous and he fell to the ground. The world spun and he vomit, with a blurry vision, he observed the traces of blood within the mess. Erik laughed, “The poison is finally taking effect. Serves you right, you and your dumb code.” He sauntered up to Lukes’ body and stepped on the dead man’s face. “You and this big oaf thought the same, and look where it got him.” He kicked it, “He’s dead.”
A soldier of Grandon stood up to the man, pushing him away, “How dare you touch our general you filth!” Erik hissed and with a quick swipe, slit the man’s jugular.
As the blood sprayed over him Erik laughed, “So who else here is going to question me huh? Which one of you shrimps can possibly kill me?”
Suddenly he was submitted into a half nelson and felt his arm wrap around his neck, while his other was pinned by a body hug with the Grigori’s other arm. “They won’t have to do anything, I’ll kill you.”
Erik choked, his windpipe being crushed by his own arm, “You’re… Not… Dead!”
“The blessing of Gaia is smiling upon me, and frowning upon you.” Grigori tightened his grasp, “But her will doesn’t matter right now. My will is what matters now. For right now I am your judge, jury, and executioner; and I sentence you to death.” Grigori straightened Erik’s spinal cord then performed a suplay*. The force reverberated through the man’s skull, which through experimentation absorbed the shock, but the straightened spine cord couldn’t survive the shock and snapped against the hard unforgiving dirt. He stood up and faced the crippled body.
“Spare me please.” Erik gasped feebly.
“No.” Grigori summoned a stalagmite and it pierced the body, hoisting it in the air. He turned towards the Grandon army. “Does anyone have some alcohol and a match?” A soldier ran back to camp and brought a jug of brandy and a match. Grigori took a swig and with a grimace splashed the rest on Erik’s body, he lit the match and set the body ablaze. He shouted at the Sellons army, “Your general was a dishonorable worm, and I have decided to not show your army any mercy!” He turned towards the Grandon army and knelt down, “Army of Grandon, I request your assistance to rid this world of this corrupt army and nation, are you with me?”
The army cheered and a man approached Grigori, placing his hand on Grigori’s shoulder, “I am the king of Grandon, Stephen Grandon. You have my thanks for treating Lukes with such a care.” He turned back and gazed at the dead man’s body. “It is a shame he is dead, but he fought honorably.” When he turned back, his expression was one of disgust, “Sellons has crossed the line with their disrespect of my general and friend and they shall pay. Grandon is with you!” Grigori smiled and stood, and with a roar, he led the charge against the army of Sellons.
The army was massacred, and later the nation of Sellons fell to the combined effort of Grandon and Grigori. Grigori left with a wave and a salute, determined to pave a new life, away from all of this.
*= A suplay is the original Greco-Roman term for a suplex. A suplex is a throw used in professional and sport wrestling. It involves lifting the opponent and bridging or rolling to slam the opponent. The one used in the story was a cobra clutch suplex. (look it up on Wikipedia)