Brak Quickfeets

Goblin Rogue

Description:

Race: Goblin
Class: Rogue
Level: 6
Age: 12
Profession: Sneak, Thief, General Ne’er-do-well

Brak is an impressive figure, for a goblin. The sad part is, that doesn’t mean much.

His bald head makes him easily identifiable as a goblin, one long fan-shaped ear sticking out to the side, the other, though ripped and only about half there, points more backwards. His body is covered in scars, and when armorless, it’s obvious that he’s lived a hard life. His beady little eyes peer out from above a crooked, long nose, scanning his surroundings for the next object that might “disappear” into one of his many pouches.

His armor is a rag tag patch-work of leathers stiched together carefully, and despite it’s shoddy appearence, it fits his lithe form quite well. If asked about the protective, mismatched shell, he will quite proudly inform the questioner that he made it himself- Indeed, he makes all his own gear. His knife is a wicked, serrated piece of metal that if not for it’s worn and hide-wrapped hilt, would appear to just be a throw-away piece of scrap. All across his chest and belt are pouches, many filled with needle-sharp darts made of quills and shafted with what appear to be chicken or sparrow feathers. Most oftenly though, the majority of his vertically-challenged frame is hidden under a large and baggy hooded cloak. The thing is a deep blue, but heavily faded and worn, and the only piece of gear the curious sneak didn’t make himself.

His arms, hands, and feet are normally very grimy- His hands and arms from the clay he likes to work with, and his feet due to his lack of shoes. his ankles have leather wraps over them and his shins, but he likes to feel the ground beneath his gnarly feet. Slung over his back on a long and chewed looking belt are three clay pots, two of a medium size and one larger one, which clink together occasionally when he moves quickly or jumps. They are of a fine make, but have seen much use. From time to time, a squeaking can be heard from one of the smaller pots, attested to his pet rat Greebs. Much like Brak, the rat is raggedy and scarred, but the two get along famously. Greebs is also quite fat, thanks to his frequent eating of Brak’s rations.
Bio:

Born to a litter as degenerate as any other, Brak has fought for food and shelter from the day he was born. His tribe was in service to to a sizable army of Bugbears, used as cannon-fodder troops and scouts, living off the scraps of the bigger and stronger Goblinoids. From a young age, Brak proved his worth as a scout and sneak, getting into places that most of his already sneaky kind were unable to. This mostly meant that he got less beatings and a few more choice-scraps than his kin, which earned more beatings from them and less kinship to his clan. Eventually the wandering warband of Bugbears and Goblins wound up in Olverod, a bordering country of Galdaen, and the warband beset an old keep. From there, they launched raids on caravans, but Brak’s quality of life only worsened thanks to his skills. At the culmination of the warband’s hold on the area, he and the other best scouts of his clan were tasked to scout out the small military force sent to find and deal with the warband.

It was at this point, surveying the skilled and reletively powerful looking humans that he decided he was done. His clan had given him no reason to care, and the Bugbears would as soon see him hoist upon these humans pikes as used for what he was good for. After successfully stealing his “fellow” scouts rations, he cut all ties and fled through the wilderness.

He had no idea what happened to his kin and their cruel cousins, but the further he traveled the more free he felt. He came to learn much about the world, and his place in it. He was constantly treated like dirt if not outright attacked on sight, and mostly through insults and cruel words learned bits and pieces of common. His life, though immensely better than it was with the warband, would stay unfortunate and hard for sometime yet. He’d survive by theft, dodging guards, and keeping himself as much of a nuisance opposed to an actual threat as he could.

It was then, one Autumn, that he would stumble across an old stone house in the countryside of some old kingdom. Curious and in need of food, Brak snuck inside. In the warm house was a dwarf unlike any he’d seen before, hobbled, old, and gray with many years, forging away at what would become a beautiful weapon. Brak watched for a short time before deciding it’d be a good time to rob the old dwarf while he was distracted. To his surprise however, the dwarf heard him. Spinning on him and throwing a hammer that tore most of his right ear off, the dwarf looked in his direction with sightless white eyes. Shrieking like a terrified baby bat and quite unable to do anything about the suddenly ripped ear, Brak fell to the ground and rolled around in pain. The dwarf, not knowing if he struck a hapless gnome on accident or waylaid an intruder, promptly threw the poor goblin a bundle of cloth and told him to bandage himself.

The dwarf, though gruff and completely unsympathetic to the wound he’d given Brak, being blind, was actually not immediately hostile when Brak finally began to try and talk to him. Thom Anvilgrasp would turn out to be Brak’s first and only friend at that point in his life, and despite their first encounter, forced Brak to become his apprentice.

Brak learned quickly, and though he lacked the knowledge and patience for skillful smithing, his vision was incredibly helpful for Thom. Despite his lack of skill at smithing, the dwarf told him of how skilled his hands were at fine work. He’d help Thom with the stitching on belts and satchels, and the two unlikely companions would spend the whole Winter together making weapons and pottery, which Brak found himself surprisingly skilled at. He learned of honest work and the teachings of Reorx, and of having pride in one’s work. When the Spring came, Thom loaded up his goods and the two of them set out for a nearby town to sell their goods.

Unfortunately, this was also a mistake. The town guard almost outright attacked him, and if not for Thom probably would have. They were judged the entire time, and despite Thom knowing at this point Brak was a Goblin, both of them were outraged that no one would trade with them despite the quality of goods they had. Thom assure Brak that in the next town over they’d “Trade with some old friends and make their coin” but Brak knew deep down that the two would have no luck with him around. Leaving his friend one last piece of pottery, Brak stole off into the night to start anew oncemore.

He’d wander, attempting to follow everything Thom had taught him and to become a better craftsman, but again, the world was a hard place for a “monster” such as himself. Eventually, he found it easier to just turn back to stealing. Seeing something of his old friend in the commonfolk of the lands though, the young goblin would turn his larceny to those that could afford to lose coin and comfort. Sometime later, he’d meet a mysterious man who was much like himself- an outcast. The two would travel together, eventually meeting and befriending the rest of the group.

Brak Quickfeets

Tales of the Hunting Brotherhood JonnyStrike