[H1]Gregor, The Iron Hide[/H1]

Gregor marched through the putrid swamp entirely oblivious to the stench but still carried his sword and shield at the ready. He walked aimlessly and slowly as though he was exhausted. The group talked among themselves as Gregor neared the bonfire but their presence went completely unnoticed. He walked directly into the group and finding a good place near the bonfire. He took his bastard sword and sank it deep into the damp earth then set his shield on the ground leaning on the sword. Taking a step forward he opened his palms to the fire to feel the faint warmth through the gloves of his gauntlets. 

Turning his head Gregor inspects the man impaled to the tree, who may or may not have been talking, he really hadn't noticed. "Oh my" he says aloud but to himself. He then begins to ponder where he was and what he was doing, quietly muttering to himself and certainly not reaching a conclusion. Gregor pulls at his helm in frustration and sets it on the hilt of his blade still in the ground revealing the dry and rotten face of the long dead, someone who was close to losing their humanity completely.