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Nov 20, 2009, 8:09pm

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AuthorTopic: Tarin Ironspike (Read 392 times)
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Tarin Ironspike
« Thread Started on Nov 7, 2007, 3:47am »
Character Sheet

Name: Tarin Ironspike

Age: 107

Gender: Male

Race: Dwarf

Class: Warrior

Job: Mercenary

Racial Hostility: Orcs

Physical Description: Tarin stands at a collasal 4 foot 9, which is rather tall for a dwarf. Like most dwarfs he has a barrel like chest, thick arms and something of a stomach. He has an impressive (or so he claims) dark brown beard which is braided with bronze, gold and silver bands, and long hair which falls down to his shoulders.

What little Tarin owns he carries with him. He is most often seen wearing simple, faded black clothes and well worn steel toed leahter boots. When on business he dons his mail coat, which falls down to his knees and covers his arms, as well as a steel helm which leaves his face visable. Of his armaments, his favored weapons are his great axe and a hand axe which hangs from his belt.

Mental State: Tarin, in general is cold, calculating but surprisingly honorable. When his word is given he will go through with it, unless doing so would infringe upon another oath, and as such will rarely swear upon anything. He rarely cares who he kills or who he works for as long as the gold is right. Unsurprisingly he is a worshiper of Abbathor, the dwarven god of greed. However, he is not particurally devout, though he will often take the time to dedicate a particular kill to his god of choice.

Sample Paragraph:

Tarin stood with his back against the wall, glaring with hatred at the men before him. He had just arrived in the city and barely a night had gone by without someone trying to steal his hard earned gold, it was just that this time they were using force. Really, it was his own fault for attempting to take a short cut back to 'The Dented Cauldron', the inn that he was staying at. Now he found himself facing five armed men, all of whom were smiling at him. They were young, even by human standards, though Tarin had never been good at judging the ages of such a short lived race. However no matter what their ages were, the long bladed daggers which they were holding were more than enough to drive fear into the hearts of anyone surrounded by them.

It was their leader who spoke, a young human with a goatee and a dueling scar across his right cheek. "Come now, be reasonable. We'd hate to have to hurt you, but if you don't give us your gold we will have to cut you, and nobody wants that."

Tarin didn't even bother responding to them. Instead he reached for his belt and in a quick movement pulled out his hand axe. As he had thought himself safe he had left his mail, as well as his great axe, inside his room and now he was paying the price for that. Upon seeing the dwarf pull out his weapon the smiles on the faces of the thugs died as they moved in as one for the kill. Tarin knew his chances of getting out of this one was slim, but he would die before he gave up his gold to the likes of them...

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