Emil(io) Haro
Art is by Voidwalker on DAB!
Skills
Art is by Voidwalker on DAB!
Skills
Total Points Available To Spend |
|---|
12 |
Physical
-Endurance- Proficient, 3 points
Working all day in the hot sun, carrying buckets of water or worse uphill, and having your marbles together well enough not to cry when the hammer misses the nail and hits your paw.
-Sahthern style longsword fencing- Trained, 2 points
Cut and thrust swordsbeastship as taught by wandering hares with wooden swords, including their practiced guards and further improvisation.
-Brawling- Proficient, 3 points
Unscientific tussling with paw and claw. And teeth, on a bad day.
Total Points In Category 8
Mental
-Wayfaring- Novice, 1 point
Navigation and survival on and off the beaten paths; the knowledge of a traveler.
Total Points In Category 1
Social
-Carousing- Trained, 2 points
Diiiiiicing and booooozing and dicin' and boozin'! The ability to fit into pubs, parties, and taverns without seeming a fool, squeeze rumors out of weary guests and 'keepers, and talk up the shady fella in the corner booth without going weak at the knees.
-Intimidation- Novice, 1 point
Leveraging choice words and a big stripey lump to aid in the persuasion of smaller beasts.
Total Points In Category 3
General Information
Age: 19 (born 1746)
Species: Badger
Size: Large
Physical Description
A badger, striped in the expected black and white, with a long snout and dark brown eyes. While no giant among his own kind, he enjoys a head of height above most of the Imperium's foxes, and doesn't seem shy about the fact. He is robustly built, with his torso vaguely in the shape of a barrel and the beginnings of a beer belly concealing the harder core of muscles beneath. His limbs are thick and stout, his working paws are callused, and his fur is often frayed and shaggy, apparently lacking in time for grooming. One of his upper right teeth is missing, which is easily noticed whenever he smiles.
Inventory and Real Estate
A dubious longsword, a quite old, straight double-edged sword that might have belonged to somebeast's grandfather, once. Though long, with as much blade to present as the popular Vulpine rapiers, it is a bit wider and a bit heavier than it should be, a welding mark is obvious about midway up its blade, and specks of poorly cleaned, long-dried stains dot the metal. Its current owner isn't sure of their origin, or much else about the weapon's history besides the respectable bargain he found in it.
A threadbare gambeson, light, padded "armor" re-tailored to fit its owner. Might tangle a dull knife or cushion the beating of a Fogey's club. Often paired with an iron kettle helm, suspiciously cookpot-shaped, but capable.
A fishmonger's knife. A purse rarely weighed down heavily with Gilders. A backpack with miscellaneous supplies; firestarting equipment, crackers and smoked fish, rolls of linen bandages, a skin ideally filled with wine, and other cheap bits and bobs.
A pile of hay in a shed behind a tavern in Voil Village and the nearly exclusive right to sleep in it. The last time he checked.
Personality
A generally good-natured beast of burden with a dull grin plastered on his face more often than appropriate, as though it were being held up by invisible hooks. He chuckles an odious amount, whether he's happy, nervous, or disappointed. His eyes light up at the most cliche of stories, he compliments the youngest and most sour of wines, and dice is the most complicated stratagem he can speak at any length about. To the learned, Emilio might seem a fool- and he could well be- but he is no simpleton, not quite.
He loves a drink at the end of a day's work, a hearty warm meal, a good scrap amongst the other village youngbeasts and the jingle of coin in his purse. But beyond these simple pleasures, he'd always dreamed bigger than he might look like he was capable of. At some point, a nasty adventurous streak developed, and a few drinks would always worsen it. Between losing teeth to fights with two or three beasts at once, challenging the hardiest Voil pirates to drinking contests until he puked over their prized clogs, and pestering everyone who seems good with a blade to "teach him a trick or two, eh?", it's not clear just what it will take for him to learn his lesson.
He often shortens his name to "Emil."
Strengths
Big and strong, as a badger should be. Fluff and fat conceal a powerful base of muscles built up from seasons of manual labor.
Foolishly bold, as the threat of a wound can make for a great scar and story later.
Doggedly optimistic, as it's hard to keep a goodbeast down.
Weaknesses
Semi-literate, as you needn't learn to read in order to haul sacks. It would take someone with such limited education at least a minute to read the last sentence, while some words remain unintelligible in text no matter the time given, including "unintelligible."
Gluttonous, as seems to be Sahthern tradition. He would not often refuse an offer of food or drink most of the time, and probably wouldn't even sniff it first.
Quixotic, to the likely detriment of his health. At the notion of something adventurous- an expedition, a tournament, a brawl- he chomps at the bit at the opportunity.
History
The son of quiet woodcutting beasts from Alton Bay. Having spent most of his life in the metaphorical cloister that it was, his definition of civilization had always been "the village green." News was rare, and he'd hound sailors and travelers for tales whenever they appeared. While an only child, he hardly felt like it as a dibbun, sliding into groups of friends with ease, usually by barreling through.
Encouraged by his folks to "stop lazing around and do something useful for once", Emilio got to work about as soon as he was able, hauling sacks of flour for a local mill at the age of 14. He'd work in and around Alton at various unskilled, physical jobs for the next two years, before departing to work as an itinerant about the Sahthern coasts wherever there was need. To him, even Pricklee Pointe seemed a great city! For the most part thereafter, he remained in its vicinity, lending his labor to whoever could offer him a few Gilders or room and board.
At some point, he spent some weekends in the tutelage of a traveling swords-hare, and came away with bruises and the desire to purchase the finest sword he could afford. Thereafter, at other points, he lost a tooth to a wildcat's pirate's mighty paw, won a "room" for life at dice in Voil Village, gathered up some "armor" for himself, blew months of savings on a sword he'd been eyeing at a curio shop, and otherwise got up to good, honest mischief.
In 1765, Emilio faces the shores of the north, and wonders what more the Imperium has to offer.
