Like most Gnomes, Jorlton is quite short. Standing at 3’8’’, Jorlton is usually far below other people in height. While this does allow him to blend in easier in a crowd, conversely it makes it easier to find him if you are looking for him due to his height. Jorlton has pale skin as he comes from a village in the deep woods where light barely reaches. Jorlton has shoulder length blond hair, which parts over his long pointed ears. He also has bright hazel eyes.

Jorlton’s wardrobe is very eclectic as he comes in and out of money very fast. As such he is currently wearing a set of leather armour, custom made for either a Halfling or Gnome, underneath his regular outfit. His current outfit includes black boots, blue pants, and a green travelling cloak. On his back is a brown bag full of travelling gear. Weapon wise, he keeps a rapier on the left side of his belt, and a shortsword on the right. Also attached to each leg is a dagger.

Jorlton is a bundle of energy. Quite often he is literally pacing about, full of tension. He has a constant need to be doing something. That creates the paradox of Jorlton always feeling the need to focus on something, but also his inability to remain on a task too long. In a more advanced world, this would be known as ADHD. This flippancy with focusing quite often affects Jorlton’s relationships as he rarely pays anyone attention and quite often will only think about himself. The random bursts of energy are also off putting to a lot of people.

Jorlton also has a wicked sense of humour, and can be quite cruel to others as such. This usually involves mean spirited pranks. Jorlton also is a kleptomaniac and has been since he was a child. As such he will pocket random items or go after anything shiny or interesting. This often gets him into trouble, especially since thievery was his main method of income.

Jorlton has a grandiose sense about himself. He always believes that he is at the top of what he does, whether this be a student, mage, or thief. Because of this he will quite often sneer at people doing the same thing as him. This sense has led him to believe that he is a master mage, one of the greatest in the land.

For many generations, the Gnomes of the Laiku Woods lived away from the rest of the world. Much like Wood Elves, these Gnomes remained in the deep wood, their culture staying the same, and outsiders being unheard of. Life was fairly simple for Jorlton’s father, save the fact that he was raised to be the village Shaman, a kind of druid and adviser. It was during this training that he met his future wife.

Jorlton’s mother came from the big city, where she lived a privileged life, coming from a family of prominent Gnome tinkerers. She had decided that rather than being a tinkerer, she wanted to pursue the magical arts. So she enrolled in Vessalin’s School of Magick, a well respected institution across the land. She would ultimately graduate and become a magical researcher.

That is how Jorlton’s parents met. His mother and a fellow Human researcher discovered the village in Laiku Woods, and wanted to document their magical practises. Both of Jorlton’s parents would fall in love fast, beginning a secret relationship. Less than a month into the research, Jorlton’s mother realized she was pregnant. It was also around this time that the Human researcher attempted to steal some magical artifacts from the village. In the ensuing argument, Jorlton’s mother lost control of her magic and killed her fellow researcher.

Feeling ashamed by this, she decided to remain in the village indefinitely. She would soon give birth to Jorlton, the son of a Shaman and an outsider. From a young age, Jorlton was a trouble maker. Not only did he have a bad habit of taking things, he would also like messing with others through various pranks. He would also dislike life in the village, wishing to leave and see the world. This was not helped by his mother’s tales of the big city and life outside the woods.

When Jorlton became a teenager, he made up his mind that he would leave the village. Sneaking away in the middle of the night, Jorlton made his way to the nearest city. When he first got there he would live as a beggar, that was until he reached Vessalin’s. Based on who is mother was, Jorlton was admitted into the magical studies program. It was here that Jorlton was first exposed to other kinds of magic. This included combat magic as he learnt to shoot fireballs.

Jorlton would also find a knack for language, learning the basic Elvish easily, and learning the more obscure Infernal. However, while Jorlton was doing fine academically, his behaviour would become an issue. Jorlton never really grew out of his prankster ways, and his actions would irk many fellow students and staff. Eventually after being caught stealing a grimoire, Jorlton was kicked out of Vessalin’s.

Back on the street again, Jorlton would once again become a beggar. However he would soon find a use for his magic. Using spells like mage hand, Jorlton would become a thief. To ease his conscience he would only steal from the rich, figuring that they didn’t need it. This would become Jorlton’s source of income for quite awhile.

Eventually he decided not to remain in the city as he had made quite a few enemies. Buying some travelling gear, Jorlton would hit the road, wanted to see what else these lands had to offer. He would travel to many villages and towns, just staying long enough to make a few coins. He would also try and continue practising his magic, working on the few spells he learnt at the school. Eventually he found a niche for his magic with illusion magic.

Jorlton would also pursue the odd job that required magic. It turned out that a magical thief and illusionist was quite in demand. Jorlton has begun to favour these jobs as he always felt thievery was low class. But when the coins run out, he will always fall back to stealing.

While Jorlton does not actively travel with any animals, he does have the ability to speak with smaller ones. He also knows a spell that can call forth many different kinds of familiars to serve him.

Likes:

• Shiny Things
• Winning Contests
• Mead
• Telling Stories
• Plays

Dislikes:

• Being Defeated
• The Quiet Life
• Getting Reprimanded
• Poetry
• How expensive paper and ink is

Hobbies:

• Stealing Things
• Practising Magic
• Singing Drinking Songs
• Writing about his adventures

Quotes:
“Of course I can do that. What do you think I am, a freshman acolyte?”
“Five gold pieces eh? Well, he won’t miss it.”

Fun Fact:
Jorlton learnt how to sword fight, not from training under a warrior, but by watching many plays. With some of them he saw it enough to memorize the sword fighting choreography.

A fairly scruffy young man seemingly in his mid-twenties with lightly sun-tanned skin, he stands at a height of 5'4", around the shorter end of human average, which leaves him notably standing face to face with womenfolk more often than not. At a first glance, he presents an almost boring and unremarkable air with his lightly stubbled jaw-line and barely-brushed mud-brown hair. At a much closer glance, his stubble seems slightly uneven in places, like he does his own shaving but lacks the tools to get a perfect close cut. With his lean, sprinter build (which is normally concealed by baggy clothes), this does tend to give him a sort of rugged "guy next door" look, which can be useful when wanting to come across less conspicuously.

He wears a faded black tunic, reminiscent of what one might expect to see at a distant monastery, with a grey, long sleeved undershirt. Brown trousers are tucked into tall brown boots that are wrapped with strips of cloth. A backpack’s bulk clearly bulges from beneath his brown knee-length traveler’s cloak, the hood more often than not lying limply bunched behind his head. Beneath his backpack, strapped horizontally to the small of his back, it is possible to catch glimpses of a shortbow and bulging quiver of arrows, and several pouches hang from a sash around his waist that secures his tunic. Aside from this, he appears to possess no other obvious weaponry beyond a sturdy auburn staff that he either uses as a walking stick or slings over his shoulders to casually rest his arms atop.

Though his expression is almost perpetually placid and closed off, he generally appears congenial and unhostile. Upon getting a closer look at him in motion, the occasional glimpse of ever so slightly pointed ears can be caught through his shaggy hair. In addition, he notably seems the quiet sort, both in demeanor and action, often moving near silently even when there is no good reason to. Indeed, his footfalls seem light as air, and his unremarkable appearance is clearly at odds with the easy grace he almost subconsciously moves with.

Almost obsessively goal-oriented, Hugh will typically give any and every excuse to avoid unnecessary distractions; and if out of excuses, he may simply refuse outright. Despite his skill with words and knack for reading a room, he seems the sort to be most comfortable alone with a good book and a crackling fire, content to merely watch festivities from a distance and absorb the energy from them at his leisure. Beyond his few hobbies, he seems to have little interest in anything but the current work and the job to follow it, forgoing most friendships and romance beyond forging several firm friendly acquaintanceships.

In nearabouts every situation, he most closely exemplifies the traits of an introverted realist, with a distinct lean towards paranoia, and he is always the first to exasperatedly pinch the bridge of his nose at the latest absurdity. He is a firm adherent to the age-old adage of “it’s better to have and not need, than need and not have”, and he takes great pains to prepare for as many possible eventualities as he can, both mentally and physically.

Hugh does his best to act as a voice of moderation in the face of recklessness and often plays devil’s advocate for more “efficient” and less moral options. He’s not the sort to insist on -or even necessarily propose- them, however, unless the alternative would invite unreasonable danger. Of course, “unreasonable” is a rather subjective term.

At the end of the day, “a job is a job”. He’ll do what it takes to complete the task before him, regardless of most conventional moral concerns. This is not to say that he possesses no standards. Certainly, though he will complete a contract by any means necessary, he prefers not to involve innocents, especially children. He will refuse most jobs that may compromise the health and well being of everyday people, and he will extract righteous vengeance or compensation from any employer that deliberately deceives him of the true nature of a task.

He places incomparable worth upon the sanctity of his state of mind, to the point that he will only drink or consume even something as tame as alcoholic beverages or foods as a last resort, where the other option is starvation. In the case that his mind is infringed upon in any manner, he will stop at nothing to deliver retribution upon the offender.

In conclusion, though he sometimes comes across as amoral or uncaring, his conscience tends to shove him in the right direction at the end of the day. He is not the easiest person to please and can be quite prickly early on in any new relationship, but comrades that actually manage to slide past his guard and into his favor will be pleasantly surprised to find that there are few more loyal than he. To him, true friendship is a contract of utmost importance, one he will never abandon.

-Warning: A dreadfully redacted backstory lurks here and may misrepresent the full context of Hugh's actions and feelings. :)



A bounty hunter of some minor renown, rumor has it that Hugh Caphazath’s particular set of skills find their roots in assassination. Nevertheless, to the public and the law, he has remained a relatively well-behaved individual, considering the temperament of the average adventurer. He made himself a reputation for being incredibly goal-oriented and the sort to be, quite frankly, somewhat anal about achieving perfect success. That ideal in mind, he was normally loth to work with other adventurers if he had any say in the matter, as the unpredictability of their presences tended to grate at his sensibilities on the job. This mindset was more recently unfortunately reinforced by a nearly fatal co-op job.

Two weeks before the Sheriff’s declared meeting time, Hugh was finishing up recovering from a particularly disastrous job that left him with a broken arm. Having severely depleted his funds to hire a healer from the local temple, he sought out straight-forward bounty work through one of his contacts, a dwarven barkeep named Greta.

Unfortunately, during the course of deciding a job amongst the available bounties, his choice was hijacked by an excitable Fighter named Kite Simmons. Unable to deny the practicality of having aid while he may still be recovering, Hugh begrudgingly agreed to work with the frustrating individual. He quickly came to regret it.

While the mission itself was beyond simple: the killing or capturing of a band of bandits numbering some 2 dozen strong, Hugh’s plan to wait for nightfall and carefully dispose of them in their sleep was rudely ruined by Kite charging directly into the camp “heroically”. The element of surprise long lost, Hugh was forced to engage. With his speed and agility, he was able to evade the bandits and slowly but surely pick them off from a distance with arrows and darts.

Kite fared much more poorly, and by the time Hugh was able to safely approach the campsite once more -the remaining bandits dead or fled, Kite was bleeding out. In his last moments, the knight handed the rather disgruntled Hugh a bloodied letter and told him to answer the call for heroes in his place.

At the time, Hugh dismissed the idea completely as utter stupidity and went about tracking down and finishing off the rest of the bandits. However, as the day wore on and he received his reward from a rather decidedly disappointed Greta, he realized that a kernel of guilt had knotted up in his stomach.

Incensed by the realization that he somehow felt guilty for failing to stop an idiot from charging to his certain doom, Hugh slept on the matter and eventually settled on accepting the foolish knight’s last request. Replenishing his gear and double-checking his savings, Hugh sallied forth to meet the Sheriff of Darenby, hoping against hope that the unlisted compensation would make this entire debacle worth his time and guilt trip.

Hugh is rather fond of simply sitting quietly and observing the fauna of various shapes and sizes. Watching nature at work is a simple, yet satisfying, hobby of his.

Likes:
Napping beside a warm crackling fire.
A flawless mission.
Getting paid.
Fruity drinks.
Spring season.
A good shave.
Beef.



Dislikes:
Cold weather.
Extroverts.
Alcoholic beverages and foods.
Reckless individuals.
“Winging it.”
Beards.
Anything that would manipulate his mind or body.

Hobbies:
Cooking.
Reading.
Nature watching.

Notable Quotes:
“My body is my temple, honed by rigorous trials and the cultivation of Ki. Alcohol is a vile, addictive poison to that temple, for it dulls the mind and flays the sensibilities as well. Such swill is fit only for disinfectant; nothing more, nothing less.”
“The social contract known as 'friendship' is a fascinating one, and not to be entered lightly. It possesses many layers, most of which tend to be subjective in importance. I have only ever entered one such contract... for very good reason. Indeed, such contracts are quite personal and are best entered only once one has a full understanding of their co-signer.”

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