[b]Name:[/b] [url=https://www.myth-weavers.com/idunn/sheets/?id=c44fc623-80e4-4f61-8f18-c72dbc1de6f9]Simon Grell[/url]

[b]Race:[/b] Shifter, werewolf heritage

[b]Class:[/b] Ranger, Gloom stalker

[b]Alignment:[/b] Chaotic Good

[b]Personality Traits:[/b] I’ve lost too many friends, and I’m slow to make new ones

I have a crude sense of humor.

[b]Ideals:[/b] When people follow orders blindly, they embrace a kind of tyranny.

I won't take a job if I feel the employer is not being honest.

[b]Bond:[/b] I would still lay down my life for the people I served with.

My honor is my life. If I take a job, I will complete it.

[b]Flaw:[/b] I have little respect for anyone who is not a proven warrior.

I made a terrible mistake in battle that cost many lives, and I would do anything to keep that mistake secret.

[b]Appearance[/b]: 
[hider= Basic image][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019f621a-8f42-726e-bf87-1d57bf63554d.webp[/img][/hider]

Simon stands at roughly 5 feet 5 inches tall. 

The scaled mail he has shows signs of wear and improvised repairs. He is meticulous about keeping it clean and well oiled to prevent rust.

Over his left bicep, he wears a silver arm ring that bears two wolf heads at the opening of the band.

[b]Personality:[/b] Quiet and reserved at first, Simon watches and learns what he can about people. He tries to keep people at arms length, not wanting to get too close to them, not wanting to deal with the emotions that come with people going their separate ways, or dying. He makes crude jokes, often about death.

To the few who he has deemed a friend or found family, Simon is fiercely loyal and will do nearly anything to protect them.

[b]History:[/b] Simon is the third son of a forester from a small holdfast. While he does not remember much of his youth, he does remember his father quietly revealing to him around his twelfth birthday the family's secret heritage tracing back to werewolves who had once terrorized the region they lived in. This was something that they all took seriously, and all had to learn to control.

Not long after he turned sixteen, he had returned from collecting firewood in preparation for winter to see an angry mob of villagers surrounding his now burning home, with his parents dead on the ground with his two older brothers. He later learned through eavesdropping at the village that there had been murders occurring that resembled the stories of the lycans who once plagued the land. The trail from one had led into the woods and to his family's home. Simon never did learn more than that. He feared that if the villagers found him still alive, they would kill him. He fled back to the ashen remains of his home to gather what he could and took off east. 

It did not take long for him to run out of food and needing to resort to trying to catch prey with the felling ax he had or begging in the streets of the village he had since forgotten the name of. By chance, he found a group of mercenaries that were looking for new recruits. The pay was non-existent, the meals were plain, and the work was grueling. The first year of his time with the mercenaries consisted of cleaning armor for one, stitching the leggings for another, scrubbing pot after pot, plate after plate, training with a long stick in place of a spear whenever he could, and trying to avoid the beatings from those who he just so happened to look at at the wrong moment.

By the end of his second year, he had earned enough respect that one of the scouts took him under their tutelage. During this time, he learned more weapons craft, tracking, stealth, and fighting the things that dwell in darker places.

Now with many years behind him, Simon has found himself in the company of Lulli, Grim, Fydor, and Checkmate.