Passing his childhood in dirt and mud in a small hamlet near Old Reza, Gottfried decided to grab his father's wooden club aswell as a bunch of proviant and explore the lands around his place of birth instead of becoming a poor peasent without any future. It was very convenient for him that the distance to the next bigger town wasn't that far by foot. Tall for his age, Gottfried found employment for an fat merchant after first getting involved in a tavern brawl where he not only broke some of it's furniture, but also half a dozen bones... well, atleast that's what he told the merchant holding his hurt shoulder.
Getting around over the years, the taciturn and always mistrusting Gottfried invested the earned money especially on alcohol and women. When him and some loyal companions once hung around in a rotten tavern, imperial recruiters started shouting out their well-payed enlistments leading Gottfried and his friends straight into the battle lines of the brave Imperialists in the Great Ruben War against the sneaky Alliance of Independent States. They took victory away that day, but it would cost Gottfried not even two long-year companions, but also his left eyesight. Since these days, his small group of sellswords strolled the lands on their search for work, shinies and glory.
*wrinkling his nose while looking down at the flattering man, he would then slowly lean down bringing his grinning mouth near the gentleman’s ear*
“Nothing of jo business...” *when the smaller man then opened his mouth to a response, Gottfried raised his hairy, right hand and went on* “..now better walk on, before it hails a Backpfeife, my tiny friend.”
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