From elanthipedia
Jump to: navigation, search
Zaulmeng Zengmaul
Status Active
Race Gor'Tog
Gender Male
Guild Trader
Instance Prime

Journeyman Craftsman: bronzesmith, pewtersmith, blacksmith, & stoneworker.



You see Zaulmeng Zengmaul, Arbitrator, a Gor'Tog Trader. He has an oval face, milky white eyes and a small nose. He has bronze-green skin and a stout build. He is average height for a Gor'Tog (27 spans).

Disposition & Mannerisms

Zaulmeng has a generally friendly demeanor, but is especially warm towards Olvi and Empaths. His manner of speech is deliberate, often taking more time than most citizens to think out what he is going to say. Similarly, he is unusually careful when moving. Although clearly not the quickest witted, it is obvious that he is educated and has worked to exercise all of his muscles ... including the one between his ears.


Zaulmeng is wearing an oilcloth cloak, a marble nose ring, some brocade leggings, some black brogans, an oilcloth backpack, a soft black harness, some chain and brigandine armor, an arm-worn shield, and some other stuff.

He prefers basic gear that performs their intended function with practicality and comfort.


Humble Beginnings

Ggurrugg, the name given him by his parents, was the youngest in a big green happy family. His pa was a skilled cobbler devoted to the quality of his work. Pa's workshop was in a shed near the house. Mama tended garden and sold fruits and vegetables in the summer, and canned goods year-round from her stand near the cobbler shed. His eldest brother went to work for an Uncle. The second brother had the skill and desire to become a cobbler likes his pa. But by the time Ggurrugg was ready, the family opportunities were all taken. Ggurrugg left home to find his future, free of the smells of leather and lotion.

A Time of Transition

Ggurrugg had the misfortune of crossing paths with a shady S'Kra Mur "trader" who simply called himself "The Boss." The Boss wasn't really a Trader. He managed a simple living doing small delivery jobs for folks who either couldn't afford or didn't want to involve a real Trader. The Boss called Ggurrugg his "partner" and promised Ggurrugg a fair share of the proceeds, which was always less than half. Ggurrugg was "encouraged" to wear a rusty steel nose ring to which The Boss attached a chain, to help keep him from, eh hem, getting lost. For all practical purposes, Ggurrugg began his trading career as a pack animal.

Ggurrugg slowly learned the business of small deliveries. He knew enough of the contacts. One day, Ggurrugg simply disconnected his chain and set about doing business for himself. He had a niche market serving as a courier, delivering packages too big to fit in one's pocket, but not so big they couldn't fit on his back. Faster than any pack animal or caravan and able to carry more than most other couriers, Ggurrugg had sufficient business, especially from a small group of don't-ask-don't-tell clients.

Then one day while delivering a small crate marked "This End Up" from Crossing to Langenfirth, Ggurrugg met up with an Olvi-led caravan on the northern trade route. This fine Fulsofellow was pleasant and jovial, and genuinely enjoyed doing his work. They spoke for some time as they traveled together. Mr. Fulsofellow encouraged him to join the Trader's guild. He was very convincing and made the life of a Trader sound wonderful.

As Ggurrugg was pondering the proposition, there was trouble. Daggers were flying and angry voices were yelling to hand over your goods. Brigands! The pack animals stumbled and their load of tools were scattered upon the ground. Ggurrugg tripped and fell during the mehem which sent the crate on his back crashing to the ground, up end down.

Ggurrugg had never been injured in a violent attacked in his whole life, nor had he experienced a rage-induced rush of madness like he did at that moment. Unarmed, Ggurrugg began grabbing the nearest tools and hurling them with all of his might at the attackers.

Out from the crate landed a female gnome with high pitched "Uffdah!" She quickly worked her way out of the ropes binding her and charged the nearest brigand with naught but her nails!

If an enraged Gor'Tog throwing hammers and a frenzied gnome clawing with rabid-like rage weren't enough of a deterrent, the Olvi was slinging stone after stone with amazing precision at one brigand after another. Nearly as quickly as it began, the battered and cut attackers fled for the woods.

Before the dust had even settled, the gnome said sweetly, "I gotta-get outta here before dey find me, dun-chaya-no." She waved kindly and cartwheeled out of sight.

"Only a fool would risk angering you, my big green trading friend. Furthermore, I have never seen anyone throw hammers like lightning. I dub thee "Zaulmeng Zengmaul," Mr. Fulsofellow said, quite pleased with himself. The name stuck.

Life as a Trader

Zaulmeng liked the new name and made it his own. Perhaps this change helped him avoid detection by those that were using him to transport Gnomes against their will. Zaulmeng became a guilded Trader, just as his traveling companion had encouraged him to do. He found trading difficult at first. Zaulmeng quickly grew tired of making deliveries. Due to his prior experiences, he felt sorry for the pack animals and the caravans. However, he soon discovered his love for hammers, and forges, and chisels. He works common stone and metal with skill and is devoted to the quality of his work. He proudly wears a marble nose ring that he carved as an ever-present reminder of his experiences.


A hammer that createth art greater than a hammer that destroyeth.

Masterful outcomes result from love of one's work, suitability of one's tools, wise use of one's techniques, but most importantly one's skill in the art. Thus it is for crafting … and also for lovemaking.

I spend much time taking crude nuggets of metal and pounding them into something useful. Most citizens of the realms deserve to be treated better than crude nuggets of metal.

I respect those who contribute more to society through fine work and good deeds than they take. Those parasites who regularly take more than they give, perhaps ought to be treated like crude nuggets of metal.

I like staves, polearms, and thrown weapons best. I choose to protect myself with a shield, chain armor, and brigandine armor.

I hear that our guild will someday teach us some magic. <ponders big green wagglin' finger>