Fuzzie
05-18-10, 06:25 PM
Name: Siegfried the Average (I know, I said "Great")
Age: 30
Race: Human, Male
Hair Color: Cherry - Brown
Eye Color: Hazel
Height: 5'7
Weight: 208 lbs
Occupation: Butcher
Appearance: Of average height, I am slightly overweight. I've been getting used to my less than spectacular life. I am not so muscular, nor do I have any distinguishing scars. I am fair skinned and burn in the sun easily.
History: My mother and father always told me I was meant for greatness; they even gave me a nifty name to show confidence in me. For the majority of my life, I believed them. I studied the ways of the blade...and barely passed. Magic would hurt my head, so that wasn't for me either. I remember my first bow, though...that was something. I managed to nearly kill the mayor when I missed my target...the mayor was standing at a 145 degree angle behind me from where I was facing. I never gave in though, and always tried my hardest. Unfortunately, on the thirtieth turn of this earth since I was born, I realized...I'm average. I mean, I have to face it: I live with my mother and father and I work from sunup to sundown butchering pork, poultry, and cattle. It's time to admit that glory just really isn't my thing...
Skills and abilities: Well...I slice a mean cut of meat. I know every cut of meat for pork, poultry, and beef -- and I'm a decent cook. I guess you could say I do extra "damage" against fowl; I've even been called The Chicken Strangler (I prefer The Average, it's less demeaning and can't be misinterpreted). I'm afraid of anything that's alive and bigger than a cow.
Equipment: I have a butcher knife made of steel. My butcher's apron protects me from nasty blood splatters and such; in fact, it's been soaked in so much animal blood it's hard to set on fire. I carry a portable spit and some flint on me at all times should I need to cook something on the spot. I have an old adventurer's pack from my younger days, but it's so worn it probably can't hold much without falling apart...my mother patches it for me weekly.
Familiars: I have a fat cat. It does nothing...at all (well, it steals my food when I'm not looking).
Age: 30
Race: Human, Male
Hair Color: Cherry - Brown
Eye Color: Hazel
Height: 5'7
Weight: 208 lbs
Occupation: Butcher
Appearance: Of average height, I am slightly overweight. I've been getting used to my less than spectacular life. I am not so muscular, nor do I have any distinguishing scars. I am fair skinned and burn in the sun easily.
History: My mother and father always told me I was meant for greatness; they even gave me a nifty name to show confidence in me. For the majority of my life, I believed them. I studied the ways of the blade...and barely passed. Magic would hurt my head, so that wasn't for me either. I remember my first bow, though...that was something. I managed to nearly kill the mayor when I missed my target...the mayor was standing at a 145 degree angle behind me from where I was facing. I never gave in though, and always tried my hardest. Unfortunately, on the thirtieth turn of this earth since I was born, I realized...I'm average. I mean, I have to face it: I live with my mother and father and I work from sunup to sundown butchering pork, poultry, and cattle. It's time to admit that glory just really isn't my thing...
Skills and abilities: Well...I slice a mean cut of meat. I know every cut of meat for pork, poultry, and beef -- and I'm a decent cook. I guess you could say I do extra "damage" against fowl; I've even been called The Chicken Strangler (I prefer The Average, it's less demeaning and can't be misinterpreted). I'm afraid of anything that's alive and bigger than a cow.
Equipment: I have a butcher knife made of steel. My butcher's apron protects me from nasty blood splatters and such; in fact, it's been soaked in so much animal blood it's hard to set on fire. I carry a portable spit and some flint on me at all times should I need to cook something on the spot. I have an old adventurer's pack from my younger days, but it's so worn it probably can't hold much without falling apart...my mother patches it for me weekly.
Familiars: I have a fat cat. It does nothing...at all (well, it steals my food when I'm not looking).