Benben's Characters

[Ogdan 158]

Ogdan Goldhand - Click Here

 

Ogrim Frostbeard

 

 

Spoiler

Nicknames: 
Age: Died at age 294
Gender: Male
Race: Dwarf
Status: Dead at sea

Description
Height: 4'3
Weight: 140lbs
Body Type: Beer Belly/Muscular

Eyes:Blue

Hair: Black

Skin: Caucasian

Markings/Tattoos: N/A

Health: Alive and well

 

Personality: When trying to hock his wares, Ogrim is a genuinely friendly, well-mannered dwarf, always looking to make a coin. Sometimes Ogrim finds himself doing things that he normally would not  think of when tempted by shinnies. When not on duty, he is a rowdy, friendly, dwarf. He loves having a good time sometimes wasting too much of his hard earned coin on ale. Addictive nature.

Inventory: Usually carrying around whatever he is trying to make a coin on at the time, Ogrim always has some unusual items on his person. Also with his addiction to cactus green he usually has a pipe and some good ol' green on him that he gets from the badlands.

Further Details: Addicted to cactus green, enjoys drinking and having a good time. Smokes pipe weed occasionally, often times when he runs out of cactus green to burn. 

Life Style
Alignment*: Neutral Good
Deity*:
Religion:
Alliance/Nation/Home: Urguan
Job/Class: Merchant
Title(s):
Profession(s): Merchant
Special Skill(s): Fairly good merchant due to his general happy-go-lucky attitude. Always tries to better the time of those around him. He is also a fairly good storyteller.
Flaw(s): Addicted to cactus green, growing edgy when deprived. Also easy to befriend which some see as a weakness. Addictive nature.

MagicCurrent Status: N/A
Arch-type: N/A
Sub-Type: N/A
Rank: N/A
Weakness(es): N/A
Strength(s): N/A
Current Spell(s): N/A
Fighting Style: Aggressive, not afraid to take a hit. (Still afraid of weapons just not punches.)
Trained Weapon: Hand-to-hand and Axe.
Favored Weapon: Fist, or Axe if necessary.
Archery: Can shoot large animals but doesn't have the skill to use a bow in combat.
 
Biography
Parents: 
Siblings: 
Children: N/A
Extended: N/A
Family: 
Pet(s): N/A
 History
 
Ogrim's parents were dwarves of moderate wealth, his father a merchant provided for the family. His family always bettered by the Goldhands, they had most of the business in Urguan. They had double the wealth for half the effort, making Ogrim quite bitter as a beardling towards those who had more than him, especially the Goldhands. Causing him to get in quite a few fights with those who he was envious of, esepcially the Goldhands.
 
As Ogrim grew older and started to grow his beard, he realized that they had no say in the family they were born into, just like himself. Becoming wise with this knowledge, Ogrim aspired to become the best merchant he could be, even though he wasn't apart of the noble family. He grew up watching his father hock his wares to everyone, never to stop smiling once. Ogrim noted this and understood that nobody wanted to interact with someone that was unhappy, you have to befriend the customer. 
 
When younger he was taught by his father and uncle how to brawl and wield an axe. He first learned the way of the fist. Learning to hold your ground, and to keep your opponent on his toes at all times was the way he liked fighting. Learning to take a punch and keep delivering, show no pain. You learn as a dwarf that good ale helps numb the pain, so an ale or two before a fight isn't uncommon for Ogrim. Having countless boxing matches with his brothers and fellow dwarves, Ogrim won brawls just as often as he lost them, learning how to take a punch is a very important skill to have if you go to bars a lot.
 
Hanging around bars and cities often Ogrim was in the badlands when his first addiction came. At the bar, he pulled out his pipe and pipeweed just like he does when he drinks a fine ale. After the ale some orcs were smoking something that smelled quite different from pipeweed. Approaching them with his casual, friendly nature he asks them if he could try what they were smoking, since they seem to be enjoying it quite a bit. They were happy to share, handing me the pipe, I've never looked back since. That is how I became addicted to cactus green. Ogrim travels to the badlands regularly to trade his coin and wares for cactus green.
 
Another addiction Ogrim has developed is greed. His insatiable hunger for wealth. He wants his sons to prosper and lead a good life under his name. He constantly compares himself to the Goldhands, trying to be a successful merchant. Iblees curse has fallen over this dwarf . He can grow fierce when cheated. He always looks for bargains and tries to haggle. 


  

Artwork

 

 

Daeron Vullir'Sulii

 

Spoiler

 

Nicknames: 

Age: 152

Gender: Male

Race: Wood Elf

Status: Alive 

 

Description

Height: 5'9

Weight: 127 lbs

Body Type: Lean, slightly muscular.

Eyes: Blue

Hair: Brown

Skin: Slightly tan, average.

Markings/Tattoos: N/A

Health: Alive 

Personality: Clever, nimble, witty, observative, open, agile.

Inventory: Usually carries a bow, quiver full of arrows, and a fishing pole.

Further Details: When fishing he likes to tell stories. Good knowledge on deception.

 

Life Style

Alignment*: Chaotic Neutral

Deity*:

Religion:

Alliance/Nation/Home: 

Job/Class: 

Title(s):

Profession(s): 

Special Skill(s): Fishing, farming, archery, cooking, and able to understand peoples emotions and play them to his advantage. 

Flaw(s): Close quarters combat, doesnt wear plate armor (too heavy),

 

Magic

Current Status: N/A

Arch-type: N/A

Sub-Type: N/A

Rank: N/A

Weakness(es): N/A

Strength(s): N/A

Current Spell(s): N/A

 

Weaponry

Fighting Style: Strike quick and numerous. Avoiding is priority.

Trained Weapon: Recurve Bow, slightly trained with daggers

Favored Weapon: Recurve Bow

Archery: Recurve Bow

 

Biography

Parents: Wood elf farmers in a small village somewhere in the woods.

Siblings: Daeron had no siblings.

Children: N/A

Extended: N/A

Family: N/A

Pet(s): N/A

 

History

 

Daeron grew up living in a small community of wood elves. His parents worked as farmers for the village, providing it with the proper amount of food to feed them. Farming wasn't much in the interest of Daeron but his parents convinced him it was necessary knowledge if he wanted to ever make it on his own. That is until one day, for the first time at the age of 15 Daeron met someone other than a wood elf. He was taking a stroll down to a lake close to the village that was near a swamp, when he noticed a elf holing a stick with a string attached leading into the water. As he got closer he noticed the elf's skin was much darker than his and his hair, a jet black. I asked him what he was doing with string in the water, he looked at me, smiled and told me he was what they call a fisherman.
 
I enjoyed talking to this other elf, for he was much different than my people. His name was Vulnir, a dark elf. He told me he comes from the swamps where their primary source of food is meat of fish, and small shrubbery they find nearby. Daeron liked the taste of fish even though meat was forbidden in his village so he decided it was best to keep his friend a secret. Vulnir always shared stories when they were fishing. He valued the detail, and careful explanation of the elf's stories. Always telling me they were fairy tales or made up, but they had an odd sense of realism to them. Usually tales of master thieves, tricks on the feeble-minded, deception, disguises, and hilarious pranks.
 
By the age of thirty Daeron had experience in fishing and farming. Now, old enough in his village to earn his first bow. His father was quite the bowman. After the age of thirty Daeron stopped visiting the dark elf and started training as a bowman, seeming to forget about Vulnir. By the age of fifty the nimble and quick Daeron, made a great archer. Slipping in and out of the shadows, becoming one with the forest. He was a true wood elf.
 
Occasionally during the last couple years of his training as an archer, he would head over to the lake and fish. Vulnir was never to be seen at the lake again, almost like he was only there because of Daeron. He would go fishing relaxing in his own personal eden, away from the stress of the community. He would ponder the stories of the great con artists and heists as he sat there, fishing. 
 
He was a born survivalist. Knowing how to fish, farm, shoot, and cook, he can live off the land for months at a time. He would go on adventures far away from his village for weeks at a time. Those weeks turned into months until finally he left once, for good. Being the first in his village to leave in years his village tried to convince him to stay, being a useful asset to them. Daeron had other plans, he left. His parents understood why he left as he was never really suited for the village life. They were saddened but made no attempt to stop him.
 
He set out, knowing where the road was from his previous ventures from the village. He made it to a gravel path, following it until he saw high walls and towers. Ending up at Malinor, he made a living as a farmer. He would set out fishing in a futile attempt to come across his friend Vulnir. The only stories he knew were the ones he told him. By understanding these stories and putting them to his use, Daeron developed a unique skill. He is able to understand peoples emotions and play them to his advantage. 
 
As he arrived to Malinor, he looked around trying to comprehend what was before him. He had only seen villages of small huts and fences, but never gates and walls was greatly surprised with his first encounter with another race, a human. Vulnir had spoken of the other races, mostly of how they were feeble-minded and not so keen. When Daeron first approached a human in the city of Malinor, asking him what he was. He spoke in a calm and happy voice explaining how he was a human. I told him about how I've only heard stories of the other races and he smiled, explaining each one to me in great detail. He was a friendly man, telling him more stories of how his brother had fell trap to one of the dwarfs distraction tactics. Lured him in and slaughter him and his crew he said. He fell silent after that story looking angered, he simply just got up and left.
 
The first sight of nobles Daeron was envious of their positions of power. They had some sort of empowerment over the people around them. He pondered what gave them that type of power. Was it their money? Was it their nice clothes? Was it their name? Was it the fear of what would happen if you simply said no? Daeron figured it was probably a combination of the three. He liked the idea, people doing whatever you want them to do for simply money or our of fear. 
 
Daeron decided to start trying his hand at what Vulnir had always taught him. He started small, heading for a small farm house in the middle of the night, He knew only an old elf had lived there and tended to the farms, it was a safe bet. Daeron suited up. Suited up with a black bandanna over his mouth, hood up and a medium sized sack slung over his back. As he approached he walked around the house looking for an open window or unlocked door. He found none but took out his pick from his pocket and set to work. He heard the click and popped inside quickly shutting the door making sure to be quiet. He scanned the room, noticing the snoring elf turned the opposite way. He made his way to the chest, it was already partly open. Odd, he thought to himself. He opened the chest finding small jewels and some gold nuggets. Also a couple of letters from his wife, seemingly deceased. Daeron looked to the note and then the jewels. At one point these were probably hers he thought to himself.
 
In his gaze the chest fell with a slam, Daeron dropped the notes, heading for the door quickly stuffing the valuables in the sack he hears a voice behind him. "Oh no you dont!" the voice called out from behind him, half asleep it seemed. As Daeron made it around the corner he heard a sword unsheathe from a scabbard inside, he wasn't sure how fast this elf was and he wasn't going to find out. Daeron pulled two knives from his belt, crouching next to the door. He heard the door start to open and the elf booted it open, then hopped out scanning around. Daeron jumped from his position, getting behind him quickly stabbing his right arm with one knife, when he cringed. That is when Daeron slit the throat of his target. He had no intention of death when he entered the home. That was Daeron's first kill. Of course he's practiced with knives skinning fish and training with Vulnir but never on another of the intelligent races. Not a very honorable kill, but after all there is no honor among thieves.
 
Daeron disliked the act of taking ones life away unless they deserved the punishment. The first time he killed he didn't want to again for a while after. It seemed to change Daeron a little bit. He continued pulling off small heists, and cons. He sold a sack of stones to a noble as gold for three hundred minas! The man thought he was getting a steal, when really, the exact opposite! Daeron had fun in his times he was not off making a living. He would trick children into stealing some food or sell a melon with rocks inside just to see a man get angry. It's all fun and games to Daeron. 
 
 

 

 

Artwork

 

 

 

Ben Avice - Deceased Old Age

Spoiler

Ben is a taller man. Standing at six feet tall, around 160lbs. His eyes are a piercing blue and his smile is contagious. He usually has a joyous look on his face, only in times of turmoil does it ever change. He stands proud and his jet black hair parts to show his face
 
As a boy his father owned a trading company. He was never a noble, but always rich. His father however was born into poverty, making his business from nothing but the mere clothes on his back and the few coins in his pocket. He never let Ben get ahead of himself, in fact he made him work alongside his workers, to learn what an honest day’s work meant. As Ben grew older, the company in which his dad owned began to falter. His mother, a lovely, beautiful woman left him as his pockets grew dry. His mother never did much for herself, just took care of Ben when his father worked long hours in his office. His father, became a drunk, blaming anyone and anything for the fall of his business but himself.
 
Ben left his home at the mere age of seventeen. His pack filled with food, a small dagger, and his book and quill. He ventured forth, and came across the fringe. He traveled the roads, did odd jobs in exchange for food and shelter. He wrote books, and came across some as well. He became versed in engineering and writing on his travels. He became bored as his efforts to make a living were futile. He resorted to small time thievery, eventually running into a member of the red tide. He stole from his home, and was caught. Instead of turning him in, he showed him a path, a darker path.
 
Ben learned small tips and tricks on how to lift small things and distract the eye. What Ben was most keen on learning was how they survived in public. Most, were hated and couldn’t eshow their face. Ben disliked that, he kept to a more silent path, which separated him from nearly the whole Red Tide. The end of the Red Tide came soon after Ben’s joining, which he didn’t really mind. But this downfall left him clueless and lost. He had lost a purpose.
 
Until one morning, Ben stumbled out of the tavern in Kaldonia he was staying in and was met by a man. A sort of noble looking man, with a gruff tone of voice and appearance. Lord Damien Baselius himself. He asked Ben if he needed work, or a home. Ben quickly accepted and was brought to Kaphro, where he was greeted by the potato family, Viktor Tozniev at it’s head. The other members, Elizabeth the flowergirl, Icerit, Desmond and Charley Chorster, and the heretic dark elf Ayche. They were all busy that morning, expanding on the lone Tavern and the very few houses that surrounded.
 
I arrived and quickly began labor. Just as I had done before working with my dad’s workers. It was much the same, only this time I was paid in minas, not food or approval. I began to write in my spare time. Stories of thieves interested me, so I wrote my first volume, “A Tale of Thieves”. I offered up some ideas for improving the town, the mayor, Viktor kept a careful watch on me as he noticed my passion for Kaphro. He offered me a position as Steward, which I took. I still have no idea if this was the best choice I could have taken, but there is little time for regret. I  opened up the Kaphrite Kasino during my time as steward, that too quickly becoming a staple of Kaphro.
I was enraptured by the new work. It was intriguing and gave me a purpose. A reason to be in Kaphro. I felt to become apart of something for once. It was a change, that’s for sure. I threw some ideas out, Kaphro had begun to bustle. Viktor Tozniev grew the town to something worth mentioning on a map. What was once a simple tavern was now a staple in society.  Something to be remembered. Viktor was growing weary and tired. The job of mayor taking a toll on his mind, he decided to travel a different path and step down from mayor. He moved on to pursue riches and ease of mind. I keep in contact often with Viktor, a dear friend he is.
 
I was the only acting steward at the time and took his position as mayor. Now serving under Lord Damien Baselius I took the reigns. I erected a warehouse to promote work. Hired on a few more workers and builders. Kaphro really got its foot in the door then. Population was larger than ever before. Our work output was unmatched by any other. We were taking in much more than we were bringing out.

Men toiled in the fields and mines from dawn till dusk. Business men came from all over the Fringe to speak with me. TBC

Edited November 25, 2017 by Ogdan (Benben582)