Race: Dwarf
Class: Miracle Worker Cleric (Level 14)
Age: 59
Gender: M
Height: 4’ 3"
Weight: 190 lbs.
Hair: Brown/Hints of Red
Eyes: Green
Skin: Fair


Gamlock is your typical short, stout teapot dwarf, long, flowing beard and all (though sometimes it’s a little shorter in some areas than others, with slightly blackened, curled ends in those truncated parts). Though he’s always lugging around a big, dangerous-looking hammer that occasionally catches on fire, that only serves as a contrast to his typical demeanor, which is of compassion, kindness, and obligation to his fellow adventurers and friends. That sense of obligation is quite convenient, as his duties as a cleric have him keeping a watchful, protecting eye on the lot of them. At times, though, he can be observed to grow irritated with certain members of the group, or the group as a whole, or at nothing in particular, and excuse himself from the party for hours at a time to start a campfire alone.

On that note, he seems to really, really like fire. Like, really. There’s the aforementioned hammer, he wears a pair of boots that can cause him to teleport in a burst of flame, and he wears an amulet around his neck, a simple stone disc with a blackened flame etched into its surface on either side that he uses as the implement for his divine powers. Oftentimes, even the radiant energy that jets forth from his amulet takes on the form and some properties of fire.


Gamlock set out from his dwarven village as an adolescent, choosing the path of an adventurer to find his place in the world as an adult.

Uh, well. That didn’t go so well for the poor guy. His first winter out on his own, Gamlock found himself out of food, shivering from cold, and slowly fading. In a last-ditch effort for survival, he found a small cave to shield himself from the elements, and somehow managed to turn some kindling into a fire. Huddling close to the flickering flame, shaking and near death, the dwarf lay himself down for his final moments.

Slowly, almost too slowly to notice, the fire grew. It grew, and grew. After hours fading in and out of life, Gamlock regained consciousness and sat up, a humanoid figure wreathed in flame standing before him. Speaking to him.

His life had been saved. He was urged to press on by that flame, and when he had gotten enough rest, he found the energy to fight on through the winter. Just barely, he was able to venture far enough to find a temple nestled in the mountains. Still starving and fighting off exhaustion, the spirit that had been fueling him along finally gave out. Gamlock nearly collapsed at the doorstep and was taken in by the clerics there.

After being nursed back to full strength, Gamlock found a new home here in this temple, which was devoted to Pelor. Indebted to the clerics, he served and eventually trained there over the next several years, learning the ways of a cleric of Pelor, but always keeping a deep gratitude towards the fire that had saved his life. When it came time to forge an implement for his holy work, the dwarf even chose the image of a flame to adorn the surface of an amulet as a suitable representation of Pelor’s light.

But still, he never set out from home to be a cleric cooped up in a lofty temple. The wanderlust got the best of him, and he requested a new way to repay his debt — to do Pelor’s work out in the world, across all the lands. He’d been taught all he needed to know, so the head priest allowed this, and after a tearful farewell, Gamlock set out again.

The flame never did leave him. It always spoke to him, in whispers and crackles from the dancing, ephemeral tongues of his campfires, leading him onward, pointing him toward a tribal civilization that had been going through a nasty drought, setting his path towards a faltering village under siege from an evil warlock’s curse, guiding his footsteps to a mining encampment under duress from greedy, scavenging goblins. The fire protected him. The fire was his strength. The fire always pointed him where he needed to go.

And it was that voice in the fire that led him to Fallcrest. Tasked with finding a specific box by Lord Mayor Randolf, he came across it in a pawn shop. The box seemed to have been sealed by three keys, with which the box did not come. So after throwing it around a bit and trying to break it open without breaking it, Gamlock finally turned to what had worked so many times in the past… He set it on fire.

Well, this caused everything to explode! And after everything exploded, Geran, Harkin, Daman, Frey, and Esry showed up, along with a wardrobe. And the rest, as they say, is a clusterfuck of violence and futility history.

The Seeking:

It is often quite apparent that Gamlock is a relative stranger to the closely-knit cast of characters that is the rest of the party. He feels that he is only there as a guide, removed from the group of adventurers. Most of the time he can be found dutifully following the others’ decisions, offering advice only infrequently, and occasionally disappearing to take care of personal matters, always showing up again right as the party is about to embark on the next leg of their journey.

He’d been recently troubled somewhat by the sudden disappearance of his fiery guardian, something that hadn’t ever been a problem in the past. He’d been worried that he’d gone astray, and as he betrayed his path, so he betrayed the fire. Still, he tried to hold onto his faith and continued onward regardless, expecting that he would be embraced again when the time was right.

And it was in the dark moments before a barbarian attack on Vathar Castle that the flame decided to make itself apparent once more. A small, controlled fire rapidly evolved into a towering column of an inferno, and the fire bestowed a dire message upon an entranced Gamlock, but also charged the dwarf with a command. To awaken the avatar of the flame.

With his faith restored to its former, blazing state, Gamlock sought to do all he could to fulfill his duty and his debt to the fire. Eventually finding Zanzibar in and rescuing him from the clutches of the lich that seems to be following the party around, the party was successful in awakening the avatar in Zanzibar. Any doubt in Gamlock’s mind was erased just then.

The Party:

Daman: As of yet, Gamlock’s only relationship with Daman is a mental note to make sure he keeps an extra bit of healing energy in reserve for the tiefling that often finds himself in the fray.

Harkin: He is perhaps the one member of the group for which Gamlock feels the most responsible. He sees the brash fighter as needlessly reckless… An accusation not wholly unfounded as it was his dying form he dragged free from the grasp of a swarm of zombies. Of course, Harkin is also the one who literally slapped Gamlock out of a brief fit of psychosis while under a psychic assault from Ashclaw. So while he still finds Harkin dangerous, he’s also learned to respect the fighter as more than just a dumb brute… Rather, as a reliable ally. However, recent events have caused Gamlock to question that ‘reliable’ part.

Esry: Gamlock gets along with Esry, but as of yet their relationship has been mostly unremarkable.

Frey: Gamlock’s relationship with Frey is a curious one. The dwarf had, for some reason, let her in on the surreptitious collection of data and formulae he’s been occasionally conducting, making and supplying the elf with copies of what he’s deemed to be relevant findings while asking her to keep it a secret. While Frey was once dismissive, even mocking, of Gamlock’s beliefs in one of the few moments he decided to open up about them, the awakening of the avatar seems to have brought a new understanding between the pair, and the brief rift seems to have healed.

Geran: Gamlock just plain didn’t trust Geran at first. Whether it was a failed ritual, or a botched attempt at being stealthy, or getting himself in tight spots, there always seemed to be an air of irresponsibility about the invoker. More recently, they’ve developed a stronger sense of teamwork. Unfortunately, the dwarf thought for a long time that Geran was a bit crass, if a bit dumb… But now that he understands that Geran is actually a kalashtar and as such a telepath, the dwarf is unsure what to think of the invoker.



The Seeking weffjebster