Post by lloyd on Jul 8, 2015 22:01:39 GMT -5
Name: Vocher Softboot
Age: 22
Race: Human (Variant)
Class: Bard (Valor)
Appearance:
A fit young man dressed practically and comfortably rested by the tree. He wore soft beige leather, the boots and gloves marked by symbols of Strom. Despite these being the more obvious sigils, a crest from High Rock could be seen on a necklace he wears, and his pack has tribal markings on it. His huge smile had a magnetic clarity and showed nothing but good will, and a short sword rested easy on his hip, and one stuck out from behind his shoulder. A staff with differently colored pebbles leaned on the tree, and the man whistled a casual tune. His short brown hair and green eyes marked a simple lineage, and the eyes held a twinkle of harmless mischief in them.
Vocher was always driven by adventure, and adventure he got, whether by finding it or by it finding him. His escape from orcs that planned on having him for dinner by charming the chieftan's daughter is one of his favorite stories to tell, and one that he gets in bar fights for often after being called out on that claim. The curious lilt from his village can be charming or aggravating, and sometimes he can truly sink into it and be almost incomprehensible should unwanted attention come to him with questions. He's traveled with monks, mercenaries, and merchants, and one thing he's picked up on: It's good to be great at something, but it's better to be good at many things. As a mostly lone adventurer, he's had to solve problems without relying on others, and it's pulled him through this far. However, he managed to haplessly stroll into a dark forest, and has been wandering in its depths for days without a clue as to how to leave. More importantly, he heard strange sounds at night, and even howls. People he can deal with alone-- monsters and dark magic, however, are somewhat beyond his capabilities, and for once in his life, his optimistic fount of ideas only yielded a a scratch on the head this time around, and he was in quite a pickle. That is, until he heard a sorry bunch crash through the brush, burnt, blistered, and battered, while he was talking to a treant. The fellow was awful slow in giving him directions out of the place, so he hurried to the strangers with high hopes!
Ideals: Everything and everyone has a silver lining. Except trolls.
Flaws: I get my nose in most everything.
Bonds: Helping strangers out is the traveler's sacred covenant.
Personality trait: stubborn optimism is unstoppable, but in case it is, surrender is an option.
Age: 22
Race: Human (Variant)
Class: Bard (Valor)
Appearance:
A fit young man dressed practically and comfortably rested by the tree. He wore soft beige leather, the boots and gloves marked by symbols of Strom. Despite these being the more obvious sigils, a crest from High Rock could be seen on a necklace he wears, and his pack has tribal markings on it. His huge smile had a magnetic clarity and showed nothing but good will, and a short sword rested easy on his hip, and one stuck out from behind his shoulder. A staff with differently colored pebbles leaned on the tree, and the man whistled a casual tune. His short brown hair and green eyes marked a simple lineage, and the eyes held a twinkle of harmless mischief in them.
Vocher was always driven by adventure, and adventure he got, whether by finding it or by it finding him. His escape from orcs that planned on having him for dinner by charming the chieftan's daughter is one of his favorite stories to tell, and one that he gets in bar fights for often after being called out on that claim. The curious lilt from his village can be charming or aggravating, and sometimes he can truly sink into it and be almost incomprehensible should unwanted attention come to him with questions. He's traveled with monks, mercenaries, and merchants, and one thing he's picked up on: It's good to be great at something, but it's better to be good at many things. As a mostly lone adventurer, he's had to solve problems without relying on others, and it's pulled him through this far. However, he managed to haplessly stroll into a dark forest, and has been wandering in its depths for days without a clue as to how to leave. More importantly, he heard strange sounds at night, and even howls. People he can deal with alone-- monsters and dark magic, however, are somewhat beyond his capabilities, and for once in his life, his optimistic fount of ideas only yielded a a scratch on the head this time around, and he was in quite a pickle. That is, until he heard a sorry bunch crash through the brush, burnt, blistered, and battered, while he was talking to a treant. The fellow was awful slow in giving him directions out of the place, so he hurried to the strangers with high hopes!
Ideals: Everything and everyone has a silver lining. Except trolls.
Flaws: I get my nose in most everything.
Bonds: Helping strangers out is the traveler's sacred covenant.
Personality trait: stubborn optimism is unstoppable, but in case it is, surrender is an option.