Avadon Clarence Grundlethump

Avadon Grundlethump is part of that group whom war cheat the most - fine young lads drawn into the fray not of their own volition who are senselessly cut down before they have the chance to be men.

Avadon was born in the Fethil grew up with his brothers Rundleton, Lemonius, and Malmont on the family's Fethil sheep farm. It was a bucolic childhood, among the swaying wheat and floating sheep, that isolated him from the horrors of the long-waged war all around him.

Avadon was a lad who looked to have a good future ahead of him: he was strapping and strong, with an intuitive grasp of common sense, unerring sense of decency, and was bright enough without ever being too intellectual curious. At the age of seventeen, Avadon was preparing to take over the family farm and was starting to think about settling down and marrying one of the village girls.

These hopes were dashed by a slow rapping at the door one evening as the Grundlethump family was sitting doen to their nightly mush one evening. A man, introducing himself as a one Larthon Ractor, explained that according to the Service and Loyatly Act of 953, the most able-bodied man of the house would be drafter into Her Majesty's Imperial Army. Glancing swiftly about the room, he pointed at Avadon and gruffly told the shocked lad to report for duty at the West Fethil garrison in two days' time.

Avadon, and his family, knew what drafting lead to, and each of them tried to steel themselves for the heartache that so often followed such orders. Avadon left for the garrison the next morning, promising to write often. He proved himself to be an able soldier in basic training and survived his first year as a soldier with no close calls or injuries.

It was close to the end of the campaign his battalion had been assigned to that tragedy struck. Avadon's battalion had been stationed on the edge of the forest, and he was on sentry duty. As he paced back and forth endlessly through the night, the lad had a moment of terrible luck. Avadon happened to glance up into the forest at precisely the wrong moment and locked eyes with a red elf. The elf acted quickly, glamouring Avadon before he could scream and luring him into the murky depth of the forest. Once inside the Erkenheld, the rebel elf snapped Avadon's neck in one fluid motion, wanting to spare the poor, unlucky human boy as much pain as possible.

The rebels buried Avadon in one of the magickal paths to ensure that the Imperial soldiers would never find his body. The search parties warily sent in after Avadon's disappearance found not trace of clothing, no blood, no evidence that the young man had ever been near the forest. After some weeks, Avadon was presumed dead and the sad news was delivered to his his family. Each of the surviving Grundlethumps knows that their beloved Avadon is almost assuredly dead, but not one of them can quite give up hope that he is simply AWOL and still trying to get home again.