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Human Fighter
This is Hugh Manning, played by my friend Darren. He’s the quintessential human fighter. He fights things.
His story is that he snapped and went berserk on his Indian wrestling coach at Grundlton University and was thusly expelled. I figured he needed a mid-drift baring chainmail Grundlton Gargoyles jersey. Only seemed natural.
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Orvul Alowishus Dwimmercandy
Here’s a warmup drawing of my latest D&D character. He’s a Gnome Alcheficer (a cross between an Alchemist and an Artificer, of course!) He makes magical items and potions and all that, and his weapon is a giant pestle! Check out his backstory:
Orvul Alowishus Dwimmercandy is a hoarder. Always has been, always will be. “You can take the dragon out of the hoard, but you can’t take the hoard out of the dragon.” That’s what he said to his wife and kids before they left him the last time, alone amongst his junk heaps, his trinkets, and his forge, in his old willow tree house, which stood bloated like an ogre’s belly after a seven-horse meal.
That’s what he said again when the Mayor of Dunk threatened to evict him on account of the putrid stench emanating from the basement (Orvul figured a family of coons must have died during the great Tome Slide of ‘09). And that’s what he said at last when a siege-gang twenty dwarves strong chopped that willow house down.
A wave of pure stuff flowed from the twained bark like molten lava spewing from rocky crag. Moldy books, rusty lamps, thirty-year old rations, spoiled potions, limited edition collector’s item decorative plates depicting the Battle of Sprocklepotch Glen, every back issue of Dungeoneer ever printed. It rained on the dwarves like a castle’s defenses. It was an ugly sight to be sure, and Orvul would have perished had it not been for his Forge—the very Forge he had been clutching as he braced himself for impact. But instead of being crushed by the weight of his beloved things, the Forge came alive, leaping over mounds and barrelling into the clear. Orvul held on for dear life, grabbing any piece of junk he could. “This is still good!” he screamed. “And this! And that! Hold on a second, you!” But the Forge had better sense than Orvul and it dashed into the woods, leaving the rabble of angry dwarves long behind.
