HereComesTheSnow

Dungeon Clearer! The Wonderful World of an Adventurer

It's okay lady, I like hiding my face too. Keeping people guessing got fun after half a decade with it stuck behind leather anyway.

Dungeon Clearer! The Wonderful World of an Adventurer

We do have a dearth in straight up casters, to be fair.

As a quick aside, I assume long-range audiocommunications aren't terribly common (going off the notion that if the Iron Roses were using signal flares, they didn't possess any) in the world? One of my other ideas for a character was a mage specializing in information transmission. A walking AWACS, essentially.

Dungeon Clearer! The Wonderful World of an Adventurer

try reaching me first, tiny

Dungeon Clearer! The Wonderful World of an Adventurer

>mfw this kid who can't even kill at 200m think's he's my rival

Dungeon Clearer! The Wonderful World of an Adventurer

I'll play it by ear, then. Whatever a silver buys, I'm keeping mine the hell away from Cass.

Dungeon Clearer! The Wonderful World of an Adventurer

What are exchange rates and standard units of currency like? I need to know how much this moron will put me in the hole

Dungeon Clearer! The Wonderful World of an Adventurer

Much as I love playing a good humble lad like gerard, I'm starting to get real excited to just go the complete opposite direction with tristram

this'll be fun

Dungeon Clearer! The Wonderful World of an Adventurer

Name: Tristram Ullr

Age: 22

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Rank: 5 of Coins

Appearance:

Death from Afar

Most often clad in earthy hues of brown and green, Tristram aims for the subtle and nondescript— if he can pick off targets at a great distance, there's every possibility someone else can as well— best to not stand out against whatever he's perched upon. His build is robust, with a fair amount of muscle thanks to constant climbing, hiking, and drawing a longbow to full being in his job description. His face is a total mystery, thanks to a penchant for hoods that somehow always find enough shadow to obscure it, but his body language is assured and his voice youthfully brash.

Personality: Tristram Ullr, in spite of the seemingly impenetrable shadows of his ever-present hood, is a man who you can only imagine to wear a smirk. His personal brand of unfiltered and cocksure flippancy is borne of the particular certainty in one's own skill— something five years of surviving within a band of sellswords will do to you. Of course he can make the shot, why even ask? Indeed, while his most dominant confidence is in his eternally growing ability as an archer, it's his background that proves the wellspring from which the rest of his colors sprout. He's ruthlessly opportunistic in and out of battle, calm in the maelstrom of conflict, and always willing to fire back at those who go after him, be it with words or attacks a touch more tangible.

Thank the goddesses he still remembers how to be a professional.

Brief Backstory: Born to a small family within Ithillin, Tristram spent his youth holding a bowstring. His father was a hunter, his father's father was a hunter, and by Goddesses above, he would be a hunter as well— which, at first, agreed with him. He enjoyed the act of archery, the complete focus it required, and the powerful thrum every time he sent an arrow forth. Nothing made the young Ullr boy's day like seeing he'd hit his mark, save hearing the note of pride in his father's voice as he called it. It became clear to both that the boy had a knack for this, and so it was quietly fostered over the years, within the greenery they called home.

After over twelve years, this started to get less entertaining.

By now a young man, Tristram continued to hunt more as a way to keep himself sharp rather than anything else, selling bagged deer, voles, and pheasants in the town nearby. When news that Thaln to the south had broken out into civil war came, so too did the recruitment drive. A mercenary corps rolled through that village and all but swiped such a capable young man up the moment they found him peddling woodland creatures. It proved every bit the change of scenery he had long proclaimed to need, but at the cost of (literally) his face. Shoved into a totally nondescript leather mask and fighting battle after battle in far-off lands, be it the War of the Red Flag or shooting out eyeballs in Velt, this became his new normal for five years, until a well-coordinated attack upon a slaver's fortress in a Veltic ruin caught the eye of the Church of Reon. For their valorous deed (ignore all the pointless fights for a sec), they received an offer to be folded into the militant arm, perhaps even knighted.

Tristram was no wide-eyed dreamer, and had had quite enough regimentation for one lifetime. He instead swung north, far north, only stopping to reunite with his family in Ithillin for a week before continuing on up to Estival, and joining the Adventurer's Guild. Here, he could truly pursue his craft with neither bush nor blood to cloud his vision of the path towards true mastery. He'll go home every so often to check on the folks, make sure they're getting on fine, but otherwise he's not lookin' back.

Equipment: A Longbow of respectable quality, a quiver each of standard arrows and those enchanted with flames, fifty or so feet of rope. Has a small sword and dagger at his side in the case of Really Bad Emergencies and needing to cut something for utility, respectively.

Skills: Whatever his eyes look like, they must be of the greatest acuity. His vision and comfort with the longbow walk hand in hand to produce a natural sniper, specializing in precise arrow placement across distances that most would balk at. Fortunately, he's also quite good at sussing out where his most reliable vantage point would be, and has no complaints about getting to it however he needs to. He was formerly at the very least workmanlike when handling melee weaponry, but has spent no time using them after the mercenary corps disbanded. He would do well to simply survive a close engagement against a trained opponent. Very willing to fight dirty, he's always on the lookout for an advantage he can push to tip a fight onto his and his fellows' side.

Formerly a hunter and fisher like his father before him, Tristram is a good judge of quality game and fish, skilled at procuring and preparing both. He can navigate a forest and bushwhack as well as any in the business, and keeps an almost obsessive, meticulous track of his personal funds.

Dungeon Clearer! The Wonderful World of an Adventurer

Bow gang rise up

Dungeon Clearer! The Wonderful World of an Adventurer

heres my lad

You Ain't Grizz, Baby

Name: Tristram Ullr

Age: 22

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Rank: 5 of Coins

Appearance:

Death from Afar

Most often clad in earthy hues of brown and green, Tristram aims for the subtle and nondescript— if he can pick off targets at a great distance, there's every possibility someone else can as well— best to not stand out against whatever he's perched upon. His build is robust, with a fair amount of muscle thanks to constant climbing, hiking, and drawing a longbow to full being in his job description. His face is a total mystery, thanks to a penchant for hoods that somehow always find enough shadow to obscure it, but his body language is assured and his voice youthfully brash.

Personality: Tristram Ullr, in spite of the seemingly impenetrable shadows of his ever-present hood, is a man who you can only imagine to wear a smirk. His personal brand of unfiltered and cocksure flippancy is borne of the particular certainty in one's own skill— something five years of surviving within a band of sellswords will do to you. Of course he can make the shot, why even ask? Indeed, while his most dominant confidence is in his eternally growing ability as an archer, it's his background that proves the wellspring from which the rest of his colors sprout. He's ruthlessly opportunistic in and out of battle, calm in the maelstrom of conflict, and always willing to fire back at those who go after him, be it with words or attacks a touch more tangible.

Thank the goddesses he still remembers how to be a professional.

Brief Backstory: Born to a small family within Ithillin, Tristram spent his youth holding a bowstring. His father was a hunter, his father's father was a hunter, and by Goddesses above, he would be a hunter as well— which, at first, agreed with him. He enjoyed the act of archery, the complete focus it required, and the powerful thrum every time he sent an arrow forth. Nothing made the young Ullr boy's day like seeing he'd hit his mark, save hearing the note of pride in his father's voice as he called it. It became clear to both that the boy had a knack for this, and so it was quietly fostered over the years, within the greenery they called home.

After over twelve years, this started to get less entertaining.

By now a young man, Tristram continued to hunt more as a way to keep himself sharp rather than anything else, selling bagged deer, voles, and pheasants in the town nearby. When news that Thaln to the south had broken out into civil war came, so too did the recruitment drive. A mercenary corps rolled through that village and all but swiped such a capable young man up the moment they found him peddling woodland creatures. It proved every bit the change of scenery he had long proclaimed to need, but at the cost of (literally) his face. Shoved into a totally nondescript leather mask and fighting battle after battle in far-off lands, be it the War of the Red Flag or shooting out eyeballs in Velt, this became his new normal for five years, until a well-coordinated attack upon a slaver's fortress in a Veltic ruin caught the eye of the Church of Reon. For their valorous deed (ignore all the pointless fights for a sec), they received an offer to be folded into the militant arm, perhaps even knighted.

Tristram was no wide-eyed dreamer, and had had quite enough regimentation for one lifetime. He instead swung north, far north, only stopping to reunite with his family in Ithillin for a week before continuing on up to Estival, and joining the Adventurer's Guild. Here, he could truly pursue his craft with neither bush nor blood to cloud his vision of the path towards true mastery. He'll go home every so often to check on the folks, make sure they're getting on fine, but otherwise he's not lookin' back.

Equipment: A Longbow of respectable quality, a quiver each of standard arrows and those enchanted with flames, fifty or so feet of rope. Has a small sword and dagger at his side in the case of Really Bad Emergencies and needing to cut something for utility, respectively.

Skills: Whatever his eyes look like, they must be of the greatest acuity. His vision and comfort with the longbow walk hand in hand to produce a natural sniper, specializing in precise arrow placement across distances that most would balk at. Fortunately, he's also quite good at sussing out where his most reliable vantage point would be, and has no complaints about getting to it however he needs to. He was formerly at the very least workmanlike when handling melee weaponry, but has spent no time using them after the mercenary corps disbanded. He would do well to simply survive a close engagement against a trained opponent. Very willing to fight dirty, he's always on the lookout for an advantage he can push to tip a fight onto his and his fellows' side.

Formerly a hunter and fisher like his father before him, Tristram is a good judge of quality game and fish, skilled at procuring and preparing both. He can navigate a forest and bushwhack as well as any in the business, and keeps an almost obsessive, meticulous track of his personal funds.