57 years old
About: I was born in the Catterick orphanage with a shit name, not knowing anything of my family. I was kicked out of the orphanage at age 7 for bashing in one too many faces. Seemed like a good way to prove myself. The only thing I still have from the orphanage is my dreidel.
From there, I ran with a crew of urchins in the poorest parts of Old Town, learning to steal, take care of myself, and protect those I cared about. I still carry with me a map I drew of Catterick, with all of the best shortcuts and secrets.
Some years later, Barin Foamblower, leader of the Foamblower clan, who was passing through town, took me in. I got another shit name. He raised me and taught me the importance of community and dwarven traditions. In a bit of a Romeo and Juliet situation, I met and fell for an orc chieftain’s daughter. Our late night trysts proceeded for some months. After surprisingly receiving Bogdub’s father Glugrub’s blessing for our marriage, we spoke with my adopted father about our engagement. This enraged dad, who brutally slaughtered Bogdub right then and there, then shoved my face in the gore of my love. I reeled; face soaked in tears and blood, and drove my helmet into his face. I fled.
* Barin Foamblower
* Glugrub, orc chiftan, Bogdub’s father
* The late Bogdub
I spent the next year in the wild, alone, save for pieces of Bogdub still suspended in my beard. We spoke often about the twins she was pregnant with. I also met and befriended a giant miniature space hamster called Boo, who joins me on all of my exciting adventures.
It’s at this time that I joined a roving barbarian clan. Got another, less shitty name. I learned how to channel my rage and found peace in nature’s balance.
I still visit the barbarian clan, but I have recently taken up residence in Catterick. I sponsor an orphanage to keep others from enduring what I was forced to endure. I also am looking for a way to bring more balance to the city and help the destitute. I have been taking various contracts around town to earn coin and learn what I can.
I still carry pieces of Bogdub in my beard, still talk with her upon occasion, and will never love another like her again. I also have a new name. I am Fuzz Bloodbeard.
Appearance: Muscular, healthy, tall for a dwarf (5 ft.). 160 lbs. A somewhat out of place fellow (no matter where he is) that sports a blood soaked and gore-filled beard, a hamster on his shoulder – both of which he can occasionally be seen conversing with, and a bandoleer of homemade beers in metal canteens strapped to his chest.
Personality Trait: I don’t like to bathe, smelling more like a wild animal than a dwarf
Ideal: People. I help the people who help me—that’s what keeps us alive. (Neutral)
Flaw: Once someone questions my courage, I never back down no matter how dangerous the situation.
Bond: I sponsor an orphanage to keep others from enduring what I was forced to endure.
Alignment: Neutral. I’m not neutral in the sense of not taking sides; it’s simply that the sum of my actions is between good and evil and order and chaos. I’m willing to commit deeds lawful, chaotic, good, and evil. For instance, based on my past actions, I could be viewed as:
- Good when I donate time and gold to the orphanage in Catterick. Or how I feel the need to help out oppressed, destitute folks.
- Lawful when it comes to upholding the traditions of my dwarven heritage and community.
- Chaotic when I stole from others as a street urchin in my youth. And chaotic when laws and traditions oppress the common folk. Or in how I shirk norms in my physical appearance and hygiene.
- Evil when the job pays well enough or it’s a means to a more positive end. I’m fine taking the morally gray, or dark contracts.
- Neutral when it comes to nature’s balance. In fact, if I’m having trouble deciding, sometimes it’s just easiest to ask myself, “what would a bear do?”
Think Django, first appearances of Han Solo, Tyrion Lannister, the Punisher, Lara Croft, Boba Fett, James Bond, or the ents from the Lord of the Rings.