Essential Information
Name/Aliases: Dssialii (d’saisle’E)
Sex: Male
Race: Trayii
Age: 21

Appearance:
Dssialli hails from a clan of almost-sea-colored goblins from the southern coastal regions of the Sands. When the light catches his scales just right, the green shows through unmistakably, though, like all goblins, in normal circumstances his color appears earthy (though it’s slightly-moldy earth). His alert color is an almost-painfully-saturated purple that gradates to a pinkish-red at his extremities and around his eyes.
Though most people can’t really tell the difference between one goblin and another, other goblins would tell you that Dssialli is handsome in an aggressive sort of way. His head is quantitatively shorter and sharper than average, and the natural lay of his very-long ears is low and straight. Only a visually-impaired, joking, or odd goblin (or his deceased wife) would describe him as “cute”, though when you’re a short race with large eyes and expressive ears, larger races invariably will call you that.
He’s not unusually-tall for his race and clan, though he does stand at the taller end of the spectrum at 3’10” (wow, much height, so goblin, such stature).
You’d be best off distinguishing him using his lack of facial hair (unusual for a goblin who spends time among other species), the dark ribbing in his ears, the darkness of his hands from burning the scales constantly, or the dark scars along his snout where scales were ripped out for his marriage ceremony.
[clothing incoming, I have to manage to draw it before I can settle on a design in writing]

Personality:
Dssialli is, contrary to his aggressive bearing, pretty easy-going. That’s not to say that he has a cool temper, but if you don’t give him any reason to take offense or get angry with you, he can be a great buddy. He’s fairly reliable, and communicative when he’s feeling cross or under-the-weather (possibly too communicative: he doesn’t seem to understand that just because he’s feeling down doesn’t mean that everyone wants to know why).
On a good day, he’s as smiley and cheerful as one could ask, though he doesn’t go beyond that “oh that’s nice he’s feeling well” line onto “oh gosh WHY IS HE SO HAPPY?” unless he’s had particularly-good fortune. Or unless he’s drunk. If you stay around him long enough to head to a tavern with him, you’ll see just why goblins have little problem chewing their food (yes, those are two rows of teeth. Yes, they are all very sharp. Yes, it’s scary as heck to look at a laughing goblin).
On a bad day, once you get past his explanation that he’s not feeling wonderful, he’s not even that bad. He can still smile, he can still not be a drag. Just don’t get him angry, and keep him away from the liquor. He’s lost a few friends to violent bouts when they thought cheering him up with drinks was a good idea.
But hey, if you’re mindful of his moods and run when you see him start turning purple, there’s little to stop him from being a good friend.

History:
“Sorry, I’m just not feeling great today.” The goblin examines the glasses with an expert eye and shrugs. “Shouldn’t be too much of a problem. 70 copper.”
You hand over the money (or rather, hand it down; putting stuff on goblin-sized counters is somewhat difficult, and who even knew that there was a goblin grocer in this town with a suitable hearth for glass-melting temperatures?) and prepare to peruse the aisles to pass the time, but as he turns away the green-tinted glass blower doesn’t stop talking.
“Is just one of those days when you remember happier times. You ever been married?” You shake your head (because, really, what is up with this group of adventurers? A bunch of ineligible bachelors or something!) politely, not particularly caring to listen to the goblin’s life story, but hey, you weren’t particularly planning on buying anything from the grocer, either, so this worked. “Well let me tell you; you find a good woman, and life is something new. Every day you wake up, turn over, and realize with elation that that’s your wife, the love of your life, nested with you, and you’re hers until you die. Every day you make amazing memories, and they don’t even have to be of anything special. Maybe she nibbles on your ear while you poke at the clock, and you never forget. Maybe you spend all morning talking about filling up the nest with tadpoles, and then decide ‘nah, let’s put it off and go on a vacation instead’. And so you go on vacation, and she looks stunning splashing about in the waves, and you smile indulgently as you try to stay dry on the shore. Or maybe she comes down to the forge one day whilst you work and she leans against it and then recoils at the heat and you can’t help but bust yourself laughing at the look on her face as her color slowly cools back down to normal.”
Is he still talking? You glance back at him from the shelf of poorly-printed wanted ads (you’d think they’d go to the trouble of buying a few more ‘w’ for the printing press, since one didn’t really cut it when you had to write “Wanted” and “reward” on the same page, and when your criminal’s name was “Winford Willifred”, it was especially bad), but he’s working away while talking, so at least he’s not just wasting your time.
“And then she dies.” You glance over at him again, something about the way he said that catching you by surprise, but he’s still leaning studiously over his work, peering carefully through a jeweler’s glass and rubbing a cloth across your glasses. “And you’re left alone. And this loneliness is different than before you met her, because now you know what you’re missing. And every time the glass reflects your image back to you, you see your marriage vows in a black scar across your face, and you think of her. And every time your ear itches, you think of her. And every time you wake, and turn over, and the nest is empty, you think of her. The waves, the sand, the hearth, it all reminds you of her. Of happier times. And then, tada, there you are, fixing someone’s glasses and pitiably weighing down the poor youth with depressing stories.” He quickly glances at you and then holds the glasses up to the light, his tongue sliding out to rub over his top lip.
“Hmmmm, well let’s talk of something less depressing.” He puts the glasses carefully into the forge for a few seconds. “Not quite done with those yet. Let’s see… well, how about this. You ever been on a hunt? A real-life, magnificent tussle with some wondrous beast of the sands, atop your trusty worg friend, your clanmates at your side? No? Hmph.” His face takes on a disapproving grumpiness as if he wonders what they teach children in schools these days (though, from what you know of goblin life spans, you’re probably actually older than he, which has made this whole thing just that little bit more awkward), but he turns back to the forge and his work and lets you look elsewhere for the time being.
“Well you should some day, it’s magnificent. Nothing to get the blood pumping through you like that. I still remember my first time… haha, who doesn’t remember their first? It was right after the first heavy rains of the season. ‘Welp, you’re old enough for your first hunt now!’ my aunt told me, and shoed me off to mount Krasdiskl, and woosh, off I went to catch up with the hunters.”
You expected him to go on, but silence lasted a few moments, and when you turned back he was getting up from his squat and bringing your glasses over. Quickly counting the copper you’d left on the counter, he handed up his end of the bargain when he was satisfied you’d fulfilled yours. “Now you have a nice day, and don’t go breaking those again. Not that I’d mind, but I’m not gonna give you a better price next time just cuz you can’t take care of superior craftsmanship.”

Optional Information
Equipment:
(1) Repeating Crossbow [four-bolt magazine, manual lever-style cycle, schematics incoming]
(1) 6-foot iron-tipped spear [non-barbed spearhead, shaft made of a sturdy, heavy dark wood from the jungle]
(1) Pouch each of two powders which, when combined, burn at > 3000 degrees Fahrenheit [used in the manufacturing of glassware, both powders magical in nature]
(1) Compass
(6) Relatively-accurate (though now 5-12 years old) maps of the major regions of Enduwin[created by yours truly, possibly not so accurate as he’d claim, but serviceable][does not include maps for Uacteir Balla, Ju’ra, Bolecawn, or Olc Cairn]
(1) Dual-range ocarina, made of glass [Dssialii’s finest work, and he couldn’t stand to part from it… he’s even learned how to play it okay-ish]
(1) Set of instruments for the blowing and forming of glass

Marital Status: Widowed
Magic (Mundane or Arcane): N/A
Skills:
About as-good a hunter as all of his kind. In his own opinion, a fantastic glass worker (and hey, someone must agree with him since he’s managed to make a living this far). A not-too-shabby cartographer with a very good sense of direction and scale. Can carry a tune singing and on his ocarina (finally). Knows how to read and right Common. Common goblin racial skills.