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Thread: Nexus Character Directory

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    Dark Elf Bard's Avatar

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    Default Re: Nexus Character Directory

    Polliwopple Graveltoes

    Alias: None

    Gender: Male

    Race/Species: Svirfneblin

    Age: 50

    Profession: Rogue/Trapsmith

    Description: Polliwopple is a middle-aged svirfneblin, only about three feet tall. He has spiky black hair, blue eyes and gray skin. He's missing his little finger and ring finger, but is still quite nimble with them. His eyes are a piercing jet black. His physique is quite bony and skinny.

    Personality: Polliwopple is it bit surly. The gnome hasn't had a great experience so far in the surface world. But if someone's willing to listen and treat him as more than just "the trap guy," he'll give his life for them. No one like that so far, though...

    Equipment: Six daggers, two shuriken, trapsmith's kit, thieves' tools, leather armor, parrot

    Backstory:
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    Kobolds took two fingers on Polliwopple's left hand, or rather, a trap set by kobolds did. That Polliwopple didn't lose his arm and bleed to death earned him the moniker "the Fortunate"a name he hates. Wish him good luck, and he winces; comment on a winning streak, and he spits a curse. Polliwopple calls himself "Unlucky" and believes luck favors him only if he doesn't acknowledge it. Yet he won't admit this idea even to himself lest luck somehow find out.

    As a young svirfneblin, Poliwopple had ambitions to be a baker, but the elders noticed he had quick reflexes and steady hands. So he was tasked with rooting out and dismantling traps set by kobolds around his warren, deep in the Feydark. Crawling through cramped passages, dagger clenched between his teeth, and carrying an oilcloth filled with tools, Polliwopple got to know all sorts of diabolical devices hatched from the wickedest minds.

    He discovered he had a knack for analyzing traps, a talent that helped him figure out how to disarm one after just a few seconds of study. Whether a mundane pit or scything blade, or a magical glyph or curse, he could see the patterns and know just what to do to mess up the works. He was a natural, and thus he unwillingly found his calling.

    Even the best trapsmith can't handle the strain forever. After a decade spent pulling apart kobold traps, losing his fingers along the way, Polliwopple had had enough. He sneaked away one night and slipped through a tunnel to the natural world, where he thought to earn a livelihood in a less dangerous profession. The trouble was, he didn't know how to do anything else. So he ended up hiring himself out to adventuring parties as a trapsmith. Figuring that dungeons hold fewer traps than he encountered on the front lines against the kobolds, he hopes to do this job only for a few years and then retire. Polliwopple is good at what he does, and despite everything he usually enjoys it. He has come to realize that he is a valued master of his trade, and he makes sure he is rewarded appropriately.


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    Last edited by Dark Elf Bard; 2012-08-16 at 06:38 PM.
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    This is the thief who likes to hoard,
    That loves the bard with the puppet Lord
    That admires the fighter with the green-hilted sword,
    That employs the Wizard, whose bird is ignored,
    That has the gender unexplored
    That intrigues the Halfling, usually bored,
    That slew a mountain of the goblin horde,
    That follows the cleric,
    That serves the lich,
    That seeks the gate,
    That guards the snarl,
    That lives in the prison the gods built.


    guess what I was gone but now I'm back