Race: Dwarf
Class: Barbarian
Gender: Male
Ability Score:
- Strength: 17
- Dexterity: 10
- Constitution: 19
- Intelligence: 7
- Wisdom: 10
- Charisma: 12
Skills:
- Athletics
- Intimidation
- Survival
Backstory:
Pwent was born in the magma-lit depths of Durnhollow, among the smoke-choked forges and battle-scarred tunnels of the Molten Halls. From the time he could lift a hammer, he was trained to defend his home with unyielding ferocity, often leading the charge when deep-dwelling horrors threatened his kin. Pwent quickly earned a reputation for his wild vigor, preferring to launch himself headlong into the fray and fight with tooth and nail when blades would break. Forging a brotherhood of like-minded warriors, he became the founder and captain of a legendary band of shield-bearing berserkers who fought with unmatched stubbornness, especially during the darkest hours when their stronghold was under siege. Known for his loyalty, humor, and unorthodox tactics—such as armoring himself with spikes from helm to boot—Pwent is loved by his comrades and feared by his foes. Driven by an unshakable oath to defend dwarven lands, he now travels across Renaris, seeking threats to batter and lost dwarves to rally, his laughter echoing like an anvil strike even in the heart of battle.
Secret Backstory:
Beneath Pwent’s raucous courage lies a source of restless insecurity: he secretly doubts whether his unrelenting brutality truly honors the old dwarven codes of valor, or if it drives him closer to becoming the monsters he has so long warred against. After once failing to protect his closest friend during a desperate last stand, Pwent carries survivor’s guilt, masking pain behind bravado and hope that overwhelming violence can drive those memories away. He dreads a day when his uncontrolled rage might endanger his companions or cause disaster in the heat of battle. Pwent seeks redemption—not only for his fallen friend, but to prove that even the wildest heart can remain true to dwarfkind’s deepest values of loyalty, bravery, and sacrifice.
Age: 102
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Personality:
Pwent is the living anvil upon which chaos meets unbreakable resolve. Bawdy, loud, and always ready with a bellowing laugh, he throws himself into life—and combat—with the same abandon. Fiercely loyal to friends and clan, he values camaraderie and shared hardship above all else. Pwent thrives on battle’s thrill, seeing each fight as a test of might and a chance to serve something greater than himself. Though his methods are blunt and his wit earthier still, he possesses a stubborn good-naturedness that lifts his comrades’ spirits in the darkest times. He’s quick to anger in the face of injustice, especially threats to his people, but just as swift to forgive those who prove their heart in battle or in ale-soaked brotherhood. Prone to breaking tension with an off-color joke, a challenge to drink, or a wild boast, Pwent is the sort who’d rather fight beside you than argue with you. Yet in rare quiet moments, he reveals an unexpected depth: a dwarven soul wrestling with honor, memory, and the burden of leading others to glory—or doom.
Appearance:
Pwent is built like a moving fortress—stocky, broad, and as tough-looking as the forges he grew up in. His armor is a wild spectacle of overlapping steel plates, each affixed with grave spikes, rivets, and barbs—some burnished bright, others dark with the marks of old battles. His beard is thick, unruly, and often streaked with ash, tucked into a ring or two to keep it out of harm’s way. His brow is heavy, nose bent from being broken more than once, and his cheeks flushed with the vigor of a fighter who laughs off pain. Old scars run across his broad forearms and the backs of his hands, evidence of brawls both won and lost. His stride is a lurching, energetic swagger, and his armor rattles and clinks with every eager step. Despite his fierce battle gear, his eyes (though not to be described) still manage to glitter with mirth and unbreakable spirit.
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