Name - Brin Glidrask
Height - 5' 11.5"
Weight - 187
General Appearance - Shaggy shoulder length brown hair, auburn eyes. Small thin scar on my cheak. I wear dark studded leather armor and always have a long bow and quiver..daggers hanging at my sides. You can probably tell how long I have been travelling by the length of my beard. Although my hair is out of control...I try to find a spot to bath daily. I may be on an adventure, but I still cling to some of the niceties of my past. My right hand and wrist have visible scars from that terrible day......
Sayings -
Nothing clears a troubled mind better than shooting a bow.
How about I shoot a warning shot into their head.
Any job, big or small, do it right or don't do it at all.
I walk softly and carry a bent stick.
Backstory - Brin Glidrask's town was burnt to the ground by a black dragon in front of him. Being a bowyer his entire life he had become quite proficient in the use and crafting of such items. He was a pillar of the community and his business brought in travelers to the small town. As the beast attacked, Brin stepped out of his little shop notched an arrow and drew. The perfect shot was mere seconds from being lined up when he heard the snap and felt the sting on his face. The bow string ripped through the nock rocketing the string into his cheek leaving a thin red mark. He looked down in disbelief at the useless days of hard work broken in his hand. The string still notched into the arrow fluttered violently as the dragon's wings blew hot wind past the stunned bowyer. He barely flinched as the heat singed his leather vest and blackened the exposed sleeves of his white cotton shirt decimating his once proud establishment. Why had it broken? It didn't make any sense. The wood had been hand picked out of the Snakewood by that ranger Klevlin. It just didn't add up.
With his lively hood destroyed, Brin set off and left all he knew in his hometown of Triel. His travels took along the edge of the High Moor and through the Misty Forest. He eventually came upon a dense Elvish forest, where he met an interesting Elf named Lalah Miaka. Since that encounter they have been travelling together and eventually infiltrated into a cultist group near Naerytar. Both saw this step as a means to an ends...but neither of them knows what the others end game truly is.
Personality Traits: I believe that anything worth doing is worth doing right. I can't help it....I'm a perfectionist.
Ideals: I work hard to be the best there is at my craft
Flaws: I'm never satisfied with what I have....I always want more.
Height - 5' 11.5"
Weight - 187
General Appearance - Shaggy shoulder length brown hair, auburn eyes. Small thin scar on my cheak. I wear dark studded leather armor and always have a long bow and quiver..daggers hanging at my sides. You can probably tell how long I have been travelling by the length of my beard. Although my hair is out of control...I try to find a spot to bath daily. I may be on an adventure, but I still cling to some of the niceties of my past. My right hand and wrist have visible scars from that terrible day......
Sayings -
Nothing clears a troubled mind better than shooting a bow.
How about I shoot a warning shot into their head.
Any job, big or small, do it right or don't do it at all.
I walk softly and carry a bent stick.
Backstory - Brin Glidrask's town was burnt to the ground by a black dragon in front of him. Being a bowyer his entire life he had become quite proficient in the use and crafting of such items. He was a pillar of the community and his business brought in travelers to the small town. As the beast attacked, Brin stepped out of his little shop notched an arrow and drew. The perfect shot was mere seconds from being lined up when he heard the snap and felt the sting on his face. The bow string ripped through the nock rocketing the string into his cheek leaving a thin red mark. He looked down in disbelief at the useless days of hard work broken in his hand. The string still notched into the arrow fluttered violently as the dragon's wings blew hot wind past the stunned bowyer. He barely flinched as the heat singed his leather vest and blackened the exposed sleeves of his white cotton shirt decimating his once proud establishment. Why had it broken? It didn't make any sense. The wood had been hand picked out of the Snakewood by that ranger Klevlin. It just didn't add up.
With his lively hood destroyed, Brin set off and left all he knew in his hometown of Triel. His travels took along the edge of the High Moor and through the Misty Forest. He eventually came upon a dense Elvish forest, where he met an interesting Elf named Lalah Miaka. Since that encounter they have been travelling together and eventually infiltrated into a cultist group near Naerytar. Both saw this step as a means to an ends...but neither of them knows what the others end game truly is.
Personality Traits: I believe that anything worth doing is worth doing right. I can't help it....I'm a perfectionist.
Ideals: I work hard to be the best there is at my craft
Flaws: I'm never satisfied with what I have....I always want more.