General
Name: Bumble Billowgrub
Known as: Bumble
Age: 17
Race: Hobgoblin
Class Concept: Archivist/Amateur Dungeoneer

Appearance
Body:
Like many hobgoblins of her kind Bumble has long flat ears, an upturned nose and protruding canines. Her skin is beige and her large, light blue eyes look constantly dilated, giving the appearance of adoration when in reality it is just a evolutionary response to spending 99% of your time in caves or outside at night. Her wavy hair is naturally dark red but does admit to using herbal treatment to brighten it further. Additionally she’s gotten lazy, allowing elven culture to influence her and letting it grow much longer than a young hobgoblin should, its almost shoulder length and often requires tying up. At 4’7” and 137lbs she is small hobgoblin. Bumble’s washboard chest is in stark contrast to her wide, childbearing hips, which are a result of spending multiple breeding seasons away from Hobgoblin Matriarchs. She has lost her juvenile appearance and often laments over the loss of her skinny hips, stick figure and ghostly white complexion; contemplating the futility of her quest if she can’t get them back as well.

Attire:
Out adventuring Bumble wears pretty typical juvenile goblin attire, most of which doubles as additional bag space. This includes a tube top with legwarmers, sandals and gloves decorated with tribal designs in clan colours. The only atypical portion of her dress is the shorts, which are clearly dwarven, still loaded with pockets of course. She has a large hip pack for carrying her supplies in.
During the day she wears blue tinted brass spectacles to protect her sensitive eyes from the sun and a heavy hide overcoat.

Other Noticeable Features: Her right ear is pierced at the lobe and Bumble tends to were a painted blue hoop through it.

Skills/Abilities

Stealthy - Despite never having hunted with her kin, Bumble understands the importance of the art of stealth
Darkvision - Generations of living in the dark have tuned her eyes to seeing in it.
Learned - Bumble speaks common well in addition to knowing much about hobgoblin, goblin lore and her own biology.
Treasure Hunter - Has the innate ability to detect fortunes.
Axe Throwing - if its axe-like, Bumble can throw it. Clan combat speciality, includes 2H Axes.
Wolf Riding - Horses don't work well in caves or in the dark. And they're tasty.

History
Bumble was sick to death of clan life, and being betrothed to the Blacksmith's third son for her first real mating season was the final straw. Bumble packed up her few personal belongings and left the Billowgrub clan for good. Bumble's outrage would have been ordinarily considered unreasonable as all partners for all males are chosen by the clan shaman, but when you father is clan shaman you expect better than the blacksmith's third son. As it happened, Bumble was the shaman's fifth daughter and was the one that carried the books. While this gruelling punishment reminded her how much her father really loved her, it had given her the unique opportunity to better herself academically, as physically was out of the question for small juvenile females, another quirk of clan life. Armed with her father's texts, Bumble became an expert in goblin lore and mastered the common language by herself, which was her key for getting out. After hiking to the hobgoblin super fortress, Og’Og’Rah , she joined a caravan travelling to the Human capital city where she's tried her hand at "adventuring" with some success. Her plan was to become the wealthiest and most powerful hobgoblin south of the mountains but currently she leads a mediocre living doing tasks around the great city. Unhappy with the income of doing oddjobs and wanting to move onto to bigger, better loots, Bumble spends her nights in taverns listening to Bard's and Innkeeper's folktales and rumours, looking for that next big catch. Her desire to find some hidden treasure leaves her at their complete mercy and would tip them for any stories they knew. The Gilded Pilgrim is her inn of choice, not because of its cheap ales and rum or the company that such cheap liquor attracts but because of the mistranslation of "gild", which she believes to mean an association of craftsmen of a particular trade as opposed to the brass monk that sits above the entrance.

Her only stable, reliable income comes from translating goblin and hobgoblin texts for the Arcane University, filling in otherwise unknown parts of goblin and hobgoblin history, building on her already expansive knowledge of goblin lore. She detests this job with great intensity but realises it her only valuable skill in a city already filled with artisans and experts.

Bio
Hobgoblins waste no time imagining up affectionate names for there children and as a rule of thumb children are named after the profession they are likely to join when they are adults or the qualities they're parents would like to inherit. The shaman didn't have much hope for his fifth daughter and named her Bumble. Her name alone describes her better than can be put in many words, she's naive, whimsical and lacks the focus to become a professional anything. The only thing she ever been able to apply herself to is the pursuit of wealth, wealth which subsequently lost as fast as it was earnt by tossing it carelessly into her next unsuccessful venture. This all said, she is not an unintelligent creature, only misguided by her dreams of being considered royalty and the words of manipulative men.

Bumble does her best avoid the sun as not only is it not good for her eyesight but after finding her fortune and becoming famous she will need to steal the heart of a chieftain, which would not be possible if she gets tanned. Not only does she avoid the sun like the plague but also tries to avoid dwarves, sworn enemies of hobgoblins. Bumble has nothing against the race, she does however have something against beardly flesh walls with big, carefully crafted items of dismemberment. Other things Bumble doesn't like are cats because they are evil, thieving b***ards and icecream because what kind of psychotic cryomancer dreams that up?

More than anything, Bumble enjoys hoarding. She's collected many tomes of hobgoblin literature and some day hoped to have a more impressive collection than her father, who was obliged to have plenty. Another item Bumble enjoys purchasing is ingots of precious metals. Although coin and trinkets help keep her lust for wealth in check, the only item that keeps her fully satisfied in this respect are bars of iron, gold and silver. When she is not translating works of Goblin lore or drinking with the bards and working men of the city, she is in the auction house checking prices of her commodities. If she weren't so attached to them she'd probably turn a tidy profit, especially considering how much she got hers for, but continues to keep checking them to ensure they are only increasing in value. These are kept in a large locked strong box under Bumble's reinforced double bed. Also in this strong box are the deeds to her little house, the precious stones her half-brother, Digger, had given to her and other various bits of jewellery.

Favour text

It was a cold drafty night in Magica and all was quiet but for a few drinking establishments where the men of the great city kept themselves warm with liquid courage and stories of great personal fortune and triumph. Songs rang out as men belted them out in unison, songs of old and songs of more recent events; this merriment conducted by the great bards, musicians and dancers of the city who too shared in the happiness that came at days end. Drink was cheap and a plenty for it was harvest season and a good harvest it was too. And in the beauty of this peace time every soul was content, but one.

The door of the Gilded Pilgrim swung open, revealing a stout, damp creature, covered in the fur of some great mountain beast stitched to that of a desert one. The wind slammed the door shut after its entry and all were silent. The lutist lowered his lute as all head swivelled to see what the matter was. It grumbled fiercely, dripping with water and boiling with rage. The nightmare of flesh plodded its way towards the barkeep, like a creature possessed. Its heads slipped awkwardly on its limp shoulders as crossed the room, its eyes never following its target but always watching. It was evil through and through and only lived to carry out its dark master's instructions. What fiendish necromancy would create such a monster to exact revenge upon a poor innkeeper? It paused before clambering up onto a seat in front of the master of the house. Its eyes made no contact but the feeling of intent that radiated from it was so strong it felt as though it did.

"There is no treasure under the docks", a little voice spoke, her voice laden with her annoyance and disappointment. The room erupted with a cheer and a clash of tankards. Bumble threw back the Bearzard cloak hood, “Something warm please, Jim, by Og’Og I’m cold.”