Race: Human
Age: 22
He wanders the land, and blends in as well as possible. When he was younger, he pursued treasure, until he was hit in the shoulder by a booby trap slung stone, dislocating his limb. Since then, he ceased his dreams of untold wealth in exchange for a more humble lifestyle. He pretends to be a simple, uncouth, unskilled farmer.
The truth is far to the contrary. He was born in a pocket of densely concentrated magic energy, and as a result, his reflexes and atunement to the magic energy field is beyond what most people can imagine. He can catch an arrow, parry narry any attack, and with what limits he puts his body through, his strength and skill is enough for impressive feats of acrobatics. He has slain dragons to protect the innocent of the land, yet all he ever wanted from life was to settle down and be a mushroom farmer.
Wolfe will pursue posted bounties for money, if he needs to make ends meet, but mostly he spends many a day as a poor farmer, living in the wild hills. Every now and then he hears tell of danger so great that, with a sigh, he dusts off his double-headed twisted glaive, his armor, his beautiful, handcrafted cutlass, a helmet and shield made of planar bronze, and a cape made from mythril rings and scales, fangs, and claws from the foul beasts he has vanquished. He puts on a belt made from leather from a bear he killed with his bare hands. And he equips, as a last resort, a dagger charged with electric magic, of a form called Xentzn, with serrated double edges and a hooked clip point. It is so sinister and painful a weapon he uses it rarely. Also on his back, though he is a lousy shot, is a yew longbow, and a wicker quiver of his own making.
Then, when once the danger is quashed, he finds a creative way to slip into the shadows, dons a monkish sackcloth robe, and returns to a good book and a cool glass of mushroom tea.
To be improved with research upon the geography of this intriguing RPG land.
Age: 22
He wanders the land, and blends in as well as possible. When he was younger, he pursued treasure, until he was hit in the shoulder by a booby trap slung stone, dislocating his limb. Since then, he ceased his dreams of untold wealth in exchange for a more humble lifestyle. He pretends to be a simple, uncouth, unskilled farmer.
The truth is far to the contrary. He was born in a pocket of densely concentrated magic energy, and as a result, his reflexes and atunement to the magic energy field is beyond what most people can imagine. He can catch an arrow, parry narry any attack, and with what limits he puts his body through, his strength and skill is enough for impressive feats of acrobatics. He has slain dragons to protect the innocent of the land, yet all he ever wanted from life was to settle down and be a mushroom farmer.
Wolfe will pursue posted bounties for money, if he needs to make ends meet, but mostly he spends many a day as a poor farmer, living in the wild hills. Every now and then he hears tell of danger so great that, with a sigh, he dusts off his double-headed twisted glaive, his armor, his beautiful, handcrafted cutlass, a helmet and shield made of planar bronze, and a cape made from mythril rings and scales, fangs, and claws from the foul beasts he has vanquished. He puts on a belt made from leather from a bear he killed with his bare hands. And he equips, as a last resort, a dagger charged with electric magic, of a form called Xentzn, with serrated double edges and a hooked clip point. It is so sinister and painful a weapon he uses it rarely. Also on his back, though he is a lousy shot, is a yew longbow, and a wicker quiver of his own making.
Then, when once the danger is quashed, he finds a creative way to slip into the shadows, dons a monkish sackcloth robe, and returns to a good book and a cool glass of mushroom tea.
To be improved with research upon the geography of this intriguing RPG land.
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