[b]Name:[/b] Loam

[b]Race:[/b] Half-elf

[b]Gender:[/b] Male

[b]Age:[/b] 34 

[b]Birthplace:[/b] Screamer Lands 

[b]Occupation:[/b] Drifter

[b]Appearance:[/b] 
[img]https://cdnb.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/003/137/949/large/guillaume-delpech-cdc-samurai.jpg?1470166127[/img]
Look at this loafer, covered in mud and dirt like a pig that's rolled in its sty. His thin, rough, and scarred face looks mostly human. His short black hair and dark eyes tell the same story. It's the long ears that point to a distinctly inhuman ancestry.

He's tall, well-built, and lean. Lean enough that he doesn't fill out his red short-coat, yellow shirt, or tan pants. He carries a sword and scabbard in his hand, not on his belt like a civilized person. It's a clear threat. That sword doesn't leave his hand unless he's dead, locked up, or has found a mug of ale to replace it with.

[b]Personality:[/b] Loam is a creature of habit and apathy. As long as the booze flows and there are enough merchants to shake down, he's happy. The only problem is that neither has been getting through with the demons in these land. His compatriots might have moved on to greener pastures, but like I said, Loam is a creature of habit. Where else could he have the option to brain a knight to walk away from a crime scot-free? Maybe, someday, he can find something to care about other than himself.

[b]History:[/b] Loam was sixteen when the Ghel tribe came up river to sack Ruby Banks. The knights were there though. Host, the warlord thought he'd pulled one over on Ebonfort. Striking their most profitable flanks. Truth was that his Shadewalker Bell had... Well she had some beef with him. Many good warriors died that day and Loam got left behind in the chaos.

He wasn't killed like the others. The soft hearts out of the knights were too unsure about his age. Instead he got the gift of back breaking manual labor. It was hell. Still, Loam survived and got bigger. The same viciousness that the Screamers were known for served him well whenever someone decided they had a problem with him. He caught some eyes in prison.

His twenty fourth year saw him out from behind the bars and into the wider world. Those same eyes, belonging to Marcel Ingway, sought the young man out and offered him some work that perfectly lined up with his talents. What crime that did survive in Ebonfort was usually thug's work. Criminals had to be strong enough to rip their stolen wares from armed a ready merchants. Loam excelled at it.

But all good things do come to an end eventually. Trade dried up a bit as the demons invaded. Marcel and his associated left, leaving Loam all alone again. For the first time in his life, Loam is looking for honest work. So far, his ambling has brought him to Gold Ridge.

[b]Skills:[/b]
Sword-fighting
Brawling
Larceny
Lockpicking
Drinking
Intimidation
Acrobatics
Pickpocketing

[b]Possessions:[/b] 
Longsword
Reinforced combat scabbard
Studded leather
Traveler's outfit
Traveler's pack
Rations
A jug of moonshine