I'll start a trapper, who might qualify as poor, but I'm only giving her general wilderness survival stuff. I'll set up a character sheet once I figure out what I'm doing.
City life had been too much for Thikut Singchapters. Her last haul of furs from the frozen north had bought her ale enough for a thousand dwarves, but it had taken not even a month to exhaust every last barrel. It seemed a dwarf couldn't spring a tap without drawing at lease a dozen of the capital's idle citizens, and Thikut swore she'd shave her beard had she drank even a tenth of her hard-earned drink. Of course, the city-dwarves had spared no time departing after the last mug was filled, and now it seemed there was nothing to be done but to once again endure the winding trail northward. She cursed the granite of the city's trade depot as she passed.
However, as she lead her faithful Bonestreaked past the wagon stopped at the depot, the dog suddenly stopped, began a low growl then dashed to the other side of the wagon, barking furiously. Enraged at the interruption, Thikut unloaded her gear onto damp clay beneath her feet and marched behind the wagon fully resolved to skin and butcher the insolent hound right there.
When she saw the sight that greeted her, she really started to get angry.
"NEK FISHERDUNCE!" she thundered, "I wouldn't have guessed I'd meet you here! Shouldn't you be facedown in a mug of MY ALE?"
"Who in the Lordax-" the startled and drunken dwarf began before Thikut managed to clear the distance between them.
"OH, I see you've got your own now, eh?" She easily plucked the bottle from his hands and gulped down her revenge. "Ah, Westclasps 1001 rum. You can always tell it by the distinctive donkey meat flavor and the utter lack of taste among those who drink it. Of course, since it's all you have, it'll do fine." She thrust the bottle back at him as she grabbed another full bottle from his belt.
"Here now!" The dwarf protested, but Thikut had already turned to enter the trade depot and she had no time for yet another lazy fortress-dweller. She emerged a few minutes later and informed Nek that he could finish repaying his debt to her once they reached Shedimonol together. The rum in her belly began to melt her cares away as she loaded her gear into the wagon.
Clothing:
1 Assorted rags (leather and fur, homemade)
1 Backpack
Equipment:
1 Personal basics
1 Blanket
1 Single-dwarf tent
1 Rope
1 Climbing Gear
1 Shovel
1 Wineskin
6 Torches
18 Bandages
3 Weeks of hardtack
1 Bottle of rum (stolen from Nek)
Weapons:
1 Crossbow
1 Hunting dog (Bonestreaked)
(Total 600 on the dot minus the stolen rum, though if you don't mind it'd be nice to have the dog be a smartie.)
[ November 28, 2007: Message edited by: Mud ]