His mother died giving birth to him, and his father, heartbroken, committed suicide a couple hours later. The Warhawk tribe that both of his parents belonged to took him in and gave him food, water, and shelter. Growing up the other children shunned him and taunted him, causing him to look to the forest for entertainment. At the age of 20 he was taught the basics of axe-fighting, so that he would have a way of defending himself. He grew to love the forest, and its creatures, and he would spend all of his time there, ignoring religous ceremonies and the tribe elder alike. By the time he turned 50, they had had enough, and told him to go, and to learn more about the world. He has been to places across the world, like The Forest Realm of Irrinor. It has been 28 years since he left the village, and he has learned much about the world, he still wants to know more.
He normally wears only a pair of pants
I look at him, stop walking for a second, grin, and say “Adventure. Though money doesn’t hurt either.” Then completly disregarding anything else he says, I continue walking into the market, looking a good deal on an axe.
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