Name: Cragspine
Age: 29
Race: Troll
Gender: Male
Personality: Arrogant and aggressive. He likes to demonstrate that he is stronger then everyone else-preferably by brute force. His moral code is lacking, but he does have a few principles. The most important being to never strike someone in the back-as it is cowardly and will bring bad luck. Also he is a very materially driven individual and if he sees something he really wants then good luck stopping him. He has learned through the school of hard knocks not to judge a book by its cover. For example in his own case he doesn't look bright and yet he isn't totally stupid.
Magic: (Put N/A if you don't use magic) N/A
Skills: Hunting, fishing, brawling (with fists, clubs, or anything big), negotiating, heavy lifting, and great eye sight.
Gear: A fishing rod he made himself, some traps he uses to catch animals, some dead rabbits and fish carries around in a bag on his back and a twelve foot long iron pole for his club.
Bio: His life was simple. He lived in a simple hut in the forest, like all the other trolls he's ever known for years and years. He would hunt in around this forest and venture to the nearest river to catch his fish, usually beneath a bridge so that if the fish ever did glance above the water's surface all they would see is a black shape above them. Sometimes back at the huts there would be brawls among him and the others, a contest of who would get the boar that was brought in the other day and would have it all to themselves. Sometimes though the conflict would be over a potential troll wife. Either way it was pretty simple life.
And then one day while he was fishing by the bridge he noticed some people in fancy robes pass by and being as curious as he was, he came up to them to ask how they received such fancy garments. They fled. Fast. He got frustrated, but about the fifth time this happened, the people didn't run and they told him of a town nearby, just south of the Black Marsh and he headed there to get those kinds of clothes for himself. He learned about work, about negotiating and about other things and among some of these other things, were things that weren't so civilized or respectable. In the end he wants to be able to buy anything and everything, just so that he can say he's done it.
Misc: He's never skipped breakfast.
Age: 29
Race: Troll
Gender: Male
Personality: Arrogant and aggressive. He likes to demonstrate that he is stronger then everyone else-preferably by brute force. His moral code is lacking, but he does have a few principles. The most important being to never strike someone in the back-as it is cowardly and will bring bad luck. Also he is a very materially driven individual and if he sees something he really wants then good luck stopping him. He has learned through the school of hard knocks not to judge a book by its cover. For example in his own case he doesn't look bright and yet he isn't totally stupid.
Magic: (Put N/A if you don't use magic) N/A
Skills: Hunting, fishing, brawling (with fists, clubs, or anything big), negotiating, heavy lifting, and great eye sight.
Gear: A fishing rod he made himself, some traps he uses to catch animals, some dead rabbits and fish carries around in a bag on his back and a twelve foot long iron pole for his club.
Bio: His life was simple. He lived in a simple hut in the forest, like all the other trolls he's ever known for years and years. He would hunt in around this forest and venture to the nearest river to catch his fish, usually beneath a bridge so that if the fish ever did glance above the water's surface all they would see is a black shape above them. Sometimes back at the huts there would be brawls among him and the others, a contest of who would get the boar that was brought in the other day and would have it all to themselves. Sometimes though the conflict would be over a potential troll wife. Either way it was pretty simple life.
And then one day while he was fishing by the bridge he noticed some people in fancy robes pass by and being as curious as he was, he came up to them to ask how they received such fancy garments. They fled. Fast. He got frustrated, but about the fifth time this happened, the people didn't run and they told him of a town nearby, just south of the Black Marsh and he headed there to get those kinds of clothes for himself. He learned about work, about negotiating and about other things and among some of these other things, were things that weren't so civilized or respectable. In the end he wants to be able to buy anything and everything, just so that he can say he's done it.
Misc: He's never skipped breakfast.
