Every party needs one, just to keep the party moving. When the entire party is busy hemming and hawing about how to best approach an encounter, they often need a Leroy Jenkins to just axe-chop the door apart and start taking heads.
The real issue is that oftentimes, the heads belonged to the hostages that the party was there to rescue. If the awful little creature had actually paid attention at all, they would have known that. But they were grabbing their fifth beer when that part was explained, (and they wouldn’t have listened to it anyways), so they had no idea who was inside the room.
A former foot soldier in the crusades who had a panicked war horse fall on his legs in a skirmish somewhere on the way to Antioch and was left behind in Bulgaria by a retreating supply train on his way back.
His shattered leg never healed well and he is in constant pain he has mostly learned to live with, does not speak the language and is edging out a small existence as a gravedigger in a bigger city, dragging his twisted limb through rain-soaked earth, muttering prayers in a foreign dialect to saints no one there worships.
Somewhere between Neutral Good and Neutral Bitter, depending on the day.
Awful little creature reporting for duty
Awful little creatures make the most fun characters by far regardless of game or setting.
Every party needs one, just to keep the party moving. When the entire party is busy hemming and hawing about how to best approach an encounter, they often need a Leroy Jenkins to just axe-chop the door apart and start taking heads.
The real issue is that oftentimes, the heads belonged to the hostages that the party was there to rescue. If the awful little creature had actually paid attention at all, they would have known that. But they were grabbing their fifth beer when that part was explained, (and they wouldn’t have listened to it anyways), so they had no idea who was inside the room.
Sure but what’s your TTRPG character?
A former foot soldier in the crusades who had a panicked war horse fall on his legs in a skirmish somewhere on the way to Antioch and was left behind in Bulgaria by a retreating supply train on his way back.
His shattered leg never healed well and he is in constant pain he has mostly learned to live with, does not speak the language and is edging out a small existence as a gravedigger in a bigger city, dragging his twisted limb through rain-soaked earth, muttering prayers in a foreign dialect to saints no one there worships.
Somewhere between Neutral Good and Neutral Bitter, depending on the day.
I know it is a bit hammy.
Dead. cackles
My sister always picked those lol just troublemaking groblins
I’ve taken more damage from party members trying to get me under control than from the enemy. Now they keep me on a leash.