Name:Hashtfa
Appearance: Burn scars cover his massive build. He's missing his right eye which he covers with a mule leather eyepatch. Many other scars across his body. He's missing his left index finger. He's a tall for a kobold, four and one half feet. He's very muscular. He's missing his two front teeth.
Inventory: Stolen iron cuirass, boots, and pauldrons polished to a fantastic shine that can be seen in the darkest cave. A iron two handed sword which took him months to learn how to lift, and longer to use, it's also polished to a perfect gleam. His lucky dwarven gold coin which he found in a river, polished even more than his armor. A pair of mule leather trousers, unpolished (but not for lack of trying). A mule leather sash. His mule leather eyepatch.
Skills: Adequate Swordsman. Competant Armor User. Adequate Fighter. Competant Dodger. Novice Swimmer
History: "Hashtfa has taken vows, Hashtfa will make good on his vows, and Hashtfa will fight until he has brought honor to his name and to his people. No matter how many scars Hashtfa takes. To Hashtfa they are marks of honor, and Hashtfa will gladly take a hundred more." Even in his early years Hashtfa was disgusted by the treatment of the kobolds, and how the kobolds retaliated with such violence and petty crime. He had decided that enough was enough, and that if no one else would act, he would. He ran away from his villiage and into the Mountain Homes of the Dwarves. He tried to plead his case, that the kobolds were not as bad as everyone thought, and that if they would give them a chance for peace they could surely live in harmony. But the guards would not hear him. They locked him in a cell and threw away the key. He survived off of the puddles of stagnant waters that had accumulated in the corners of his cell, and the vermin the crawled across the prison floor. But hardship only made Hashtfa stronger, each day he would bash the wall of cell until his fists bled, and one day his hard work had payed off. A single crack after weeks of pounding against the stone walls, but it was a sign of progress, and it gave him hope. After a year he had made a hole in the wall large enough for him to crawl through into an abandoned stock room. There he found his weapon, and armor, and although he was stealing, he believed that the ends would justify the means. He fled from the Mountain Homes and into the wilderness. He had decided that words weren't enough, and only through action would he prove himself. He had seen the engravings on the walls of the stock room, a troll had terrorized the Dwarves in the starting years of the Mountain Homes, and according to the engravings, was still alive. He had tracked it down to it's lair and confronted it, knowing full well it could be his demise. But if he would fall, he would fall for the kobolds, and that would be the most noble thing he could do for his people. He fought with the troll for days, until the beast collapsed in exhaustion. The kobold stood over him, covered in wounds and blood. Not a single strike he had yet landed on the beast. In a single swing of his sword he lopped it's head off, and returned to the Mountain Homes, dragging the body along with him. He had asked for an audience with their leader, hoping that the Dwarves would hear him out again. They had allowed it after much argument, and he was given an offer he couldn't refuse. He had promised the king, the Dwarves, and the world that he would slay the enemies of the Dwarves, Elves, and Men until his last days, and then he would have proven himself and his people worthy. He had been knighted and set off on his journeys, traveling with many armies and adventurers in hopes of redemption and a noble death. Now he has agreed to help and protect a group of kobolds attempting to begin a new settlement. Although he has little chance of proving himself, he will try to steer them away from theft and murder, in hopes of fostering a positive environment and a new generation of law-abiding kobolds. He is likely to fail
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Topic: Kobold Camp (Read 10528 times)