Misfits and Mayhem
Dwarven Fighter 5
- Str: 18 (4, 7)
- Dex: 12 (1, 1)
- Con: 20 (5, 8)
- Int: 11 (0, 0)
- Wis: 16 (3, 3)
- Cha: 10 (0, 0)
HP: 61/61 (5d10)
Battleaxe, handaxe, light hammer, warhammer, all armor, shields, simple/martial weapons
Sewing tools, tinker tools
Common, dwarvish, elvish
Chaotic Good, Fighter Champion, ~200 years old but appears 60
Carries large greatsword which she regularly converses with
Tinker, former guild artisan though she does not remember her past.
Very much of the “live and let live” mentality unless she feels another is a threat or deserves to die.
While she has no name or recollection of details prior to around her 60th year, “Moms” doesn’t mind much. She knows how to fight, she likes to make things, and she thinks at one point she might have worked in a guild somewhere. Or a black market. Honestly is there any difference anyway? She isn’t sure of much of anything and it hardly matters now.
The only thing she knows is her husband, Thaddus (Tad) inhabits the greatsword she carries, and while she isn’t sure how he got in there, his advice and companionship were all she had for a good stretch of years. During that time she mostly trained and traveled, taking contracts to kill whatever manner of beasties she could find and doing whatever odd tasks she could find for herself. Not too hard for a hardy dwarf to find work if she wants.
That was her life until she found El, a little runt of an elf child running from some thugs. Not one for much patience when it comes to child abuse, she dealt with them as she would, letting her husband do the honors of judging and telling the child nothing of it. He was probably old enough, and had seen enough, to handle it but it hardly needed said. They got what was coming and he was free.
She adopted him as her own, teaching him what she knew and taking care as best as she was able. She wasn’t particularly attentive or controlling as a guardian, but she cared deeply and loved freely, and she figured that was probably good enough. It was the same mentality she would hold later, when more joined their merry little family. Not an ounce domestic, rigid, or responsible, she had three basic rules:
- Watch out for one another.
- Respect (in a loose sense) one another (Tad was more insistent on this).
- Don’t get yourself killed without letting her know first.
She doesn’t really care where people come from or what they’ve done before she met them – her only cares are what a person does in the time she’s with them.
In a random fit of stability, she did decide they needed a better hub than the constant life of travel as they grew in number, so purchased some ground in a local tavern. A portion of the rooms upstairs are theirs so long as they kick in some money and she does some of the brewing. Her concoctions are pretty good, though her tendency to experiment can sometimes turn out interesting results.