Appearance: [hider=Tondil][img]http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs7/i/2005/197/e/d/Darknut_Blacksmith_by_Sasuga.jpg[/img][/hider]
Name: Tondil Rasta
Age: 19
Social Class: Artisan 
Race: Darknut

Personality: Tondil is a lover of finely crafted steel and a good fight. He judges on character rather than race, though he does think that most Hylians could use an attitude check. He is grateful with what he has and is content living in the city. He is a Darknut of faith, often praying to Hylia in times of hardship and thanking her in times of peace. Though he is regularly harassed by Hylians, especially near guards, he tries to make the best of what he has. Though he does dream sometimes, of going on adventures and being regarded as a hero rather than a monster. Though he tries to reserve judgement on people, he detests most Hylian children, especially those that are spoiled. They think they are untouchable, invincible, when in reality, he could crush their skull like a grape. He prays to Hylia when these thoughts cross his mind, and though he does his best to ignore them, he cannot prevent them. His mind often travels to the stories of his ancestors, those who guarded ancient temples against scum of all kind. He longs to have such a noble purpose.

Backstory: Tondil was born in Death Valley in his father's Armor and Weapons shop. They lived a fairly solitary life, the nearest village being a mile or so. Most of their customers were either crazy, stupid, or brave. Or possibly so stupidly brave that they were crazy. However, individuals like that were few and far between, so they got most of their business from the nearby village, traded food for weapons and armor to protect themselves from the various creatures of Death Valley. Tondil learned to work the forge from a very early age and proved quite good at it. His father also trained him in swordsmanship in case of emergencies. Tondil relished the visits, grasping little peepholes of the world from listening to stories or news. The stories he liked most though, were the stories of his ancestors. Those who guarded ancient temples that held unknowable power, those who dedicated their lives to keep scum out. Those were the heroes he fantasized about. As his father got older, Tondil took on more responsibilities, in smithing and fighting alike. He became skilled with a hammer and adept with the sword. The few visits they got from travelers, he handled, while his father worked with the numbers, now too old and weak to do any physical work. The village guards stopped coming for gear and soon it was up to Tondil to go hunting for food. It was an unpleasant experience to say in the least, but he was able to round up enough meat to keep him and his father fed. It got to the point where Tondil's father sent him to the village to work for food. It was about an hour walk and when Tondil got there, he found the place ransacked by the creatures of Death Valley. He killed them all and searched the town for survivors, but found none. He found some food in a storage shed and trekked home with a heavy heart.

When he arrived, he found another group of the creatures had broken in. And killed his frail father. He flew into a rage, killing everything before they ate his father's corpse. Racked with grief, he set his house and shop ablaze, wishing to destroy everything before the valley could. Lost for the first time in his life, Tondil followed his father's old map to Hyrule. He was amazed at how green the grass was and how blue the rivers were. How the castle towered over the land like one of the mountains of his former home. He had heard of Darknuts joining the army. Confident that they would need a smith as well as a warrior, Tondil entered Castle town with hopes of a new purpose. In all his lifem Tondil had never seen a place so lively. Music played in the streets, vendors shouted their wares at pedestrians, countless buildings held the promise of something new and amazing in each of them. He did not anticipate, however, the negativity. People would quickly look down as he passed, or shoot suspicious glares across the street. Guards would stare at him and his sword as if he were a criminal. He soon learned he needed rupees to sleep in a bed, a thing he only saw travelers carrying. However, he figured he would have to work to get them. He applied to jobs all around town, and he was denied constantly. If he raised his voice even an inch higher, they would call for the guards. So he spent his first week hungry and uncomfortable, waiting for the recruitment offices to open. He found some work here and there, which was just enough to sustain him, at least long enough until the recruitment offices open. But it seemed that joining the army was not to be his fate and destiny had taken control.
 
Triforce Apparent: Power

Skills and Abilities: A skilled smith and talented fighter.

Equipment: Great sword. Beige trousers with black grimy boots. A plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, dirt and grime on it from the forge. A leather patch on his shoulder with a strap the goes around his torso to rest the Great sword when he is not using it. A tool belt with various smithing tools that can be used for repairing equipment.