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Forstrang
Forstrang (the Furious)
| Name | Forstrang |
|---|---|
| Status | Active |
| Occupation | Depends on his whim and the tongue of cunning folk. |
| Age | Middle aged |
| Race | Man |
|---|---|
| Residence | Makes the unfortunate streets of Bree unsafe, but sometimes quite the opposite aswell ironicly. |
| Kinship | None |
| Outward Appearance | Hulking, brutish, unpleasant and scarred from head to foot. His facial expressions betray his dull wits that produce predominantly mindless anger or filthy joy. Upon seeing him one may think him far more beast than man. His speech of Westron is broken same as his nose, there are dents in the thick bone of his forehead and his skin has been ravaged with the touch of who knows what blades and horrors. Usually his hair is long and unwashed and his beard filled with all sorts of scraps that bear not thinking about. He himself is supremely unbothered by it. He doesn't go into the world dressed, he goes armored. Upon his shoulders may at times be furs crudely knitted together for warmth and upon his torso rests a well used gambison that he no doubt must've taken from a defeated foe. A thick flaking belt of leather keeps a leather pouch and a worn out sheath for his long knife. His trousers are no less dirty and oddly at least his boots seem in somewhat decent condition. His upper body stinks of sweat, his mouth of his last meal and his feet of old cheese. |
|---|
Background
The village was in uproar, already men and women holding their children were running for their lives at the sight of the menacing wyrm-ships that had come ashore. Men jumped over the rim of the bough and their boots landed heavily in the hot sand. Armed with iron and their cruelty they marched towards the walls, their round shields raised over their heads. They were from all manner of stretches of life, impoverished merchants, adventurers, desperate outcasts or outlaws wanting to buy their way back into society with fame and gold. Forstrang was among them, grimacing and pulling out his long-knife for what was to come as he began following the throng of raiders. He could not wait to return laden with gems , gold or other sources of wealth.
--
Wilderland is named after men like Forstrang, he is a giant from the forest with the temper of an active vulcano and the patience of a toddler. He is a man that's only driven by instinct. He carries himself through life steered by his gut, the witty tongue of more cunning men and his mindless berserker-tantrum when faced with danger. It has even been claimed that the spirit of a great beast has settled in his body and with each outburst the man's control slips further and further away. Furthermore he has little regard for anything except himself and those that have nothing to offer him quickly find themselves dismissed with a shrug. Those that provoke him to anger will have to defend themselves.
| Friends | |
|---|---|
| Relatives | Only his many siblings, among which several such as Azger and Frollrande have died. |
| Rivals/Enemies | Anyone subjected to his anger. |
| Loves | To please his gut with food and his lowly mind with coarse jokes. There's also the matter of "the pretty redhead". |
|---|---|
| Hates | Hunger and ants in his clothes. |
| Motivation | Get rich and famous or (more likely) die trying! |
| Quotes | Bwuehehehe.. |
Forstrang's Adventures
| Crashed (5) | 7 years 10 months ago |
| Crashed (4) | 7 years 11 months ago |
| Crashed (3) | 8 years 1 month ago |
| crashed (2) | 8 years 4 months ago |
| Crashed | 8 years 5 months ago |
