Halfling Butcher


Stock: Halfling
Class: Burglar
Level: 1
Age: 28
Raiment: Sturdy red apron
Alignment: Unaffiliated
Home: Guthrum (Busy Crossroads)
Parents: -
Mentor: -
Friend: –
Enemy: Dex the Hook.
Belief: The ambitious and hard-working deserve to succeed.
Instinct: If there’s meat, see if it can be salvaged.
Traits: Hidden Depths, Skinny, Loner
Will: 5
Health: 3
Nature: 4/4 Halfling (Sneaking, Riddling, Merrymaking)
Resources: 0
Circles: 1
Might: 3
Fate: 2/1
Persona: 2/1
Needs a little Salt-wise
• Cook 4
• Criminal 3
• Fighter 3
• Hunter 2
• Scout 3
• Scavenger 3
• Haggler 2
Equipment and Gear
Head: Helmet
Neck: Garlic
Torso: Leather Armour (broken), Cloak, Satchel (Oil (1), Torches (4))
Belt: Hand Axe, Pouch (Small Sacks (2)), Waterskin (Wine)
Feet: Empty
Hands: Empty


I was born in Guthrum to a good family, fairly well-off all things considered. Good parents, cousins to play with, enough food most of the time. Then when I was still a child, flu took both my parents. And most of my aunts and uncles as well. Amazingly, it was my gran who survived and took me in, and she ran a nice butcher’s and started teaching me the trade, along with Dex.
Dex’s one of me cousins, lost his folks to the flu too. Now my gran, Immortals watch over her, did her best, but Dex was a troublesome sort. Bit older’n me, and he went on the rough side. And I followed. Picked up some tricks. And when coin was thin, well, maybe I used them skills and there was a bit of cat in the pies. Didn’t get any complaints.
Well eventually my gran twisted me ear and steered me right, and I left the streets. Mostly. But Dex, he stayed with his arms in the gutter, even when he was a man grown. Just lucky enough the guards never pegged him, I guess.
Now, ‘til recent I was happy, like, but then me old gran got sick, so it was mostly me running the butcher’s and Dex whenever his idle bones weren’t mucking about with people’s purses. And then she died. Now, I knew it was coming, and I mourned, but then Dex brings this will out, all fancy like, and the bastard’s smirk as he tells me he owns the butcher’s now…
Well, he sends me packing, and here I am. At least I got gran’s best cleaver before I left. Anyways, there’s not much room for me anywhere else, but some folks seem to be making a good bit of coin with this adventuring business, and I’ll bet my pans they’d appreciate a cook who can make rat taste like cow.


Bear Torches, Young Man (Torchbearer West Marches) arrowed7