Author Games: Dungeon Brawl

Hero: Samgar

Author: TheCatKing

Name: Samgar (you were expecting a surname? In this economy?)

Age: 35

Race: Human

Personality: Equally prone to affection and vanity, Samgar has the soul of a heroic sellsword and the habits of a middle-aged single father. As always, habit is the more potent factor of the two. The glorious conceptions of a young adventurer can only survive so many tours as a pony to a tiny tyrant who demands rides across the grass to engage in enthusiastic stick-battles with an old stump. Such a pattern holds true for the rest of his life. A lusty appreciation for his looks and those around him has dwindled to moderate flirtation and vanity, much to Adeline's disappointment at her lack of younger siblings. Dreams of going to rescue Damsels in Distress (capital D's, of course) have been more thoroughly quashed by the everyday sense and independence of Morrana, his daughter's mother, who knew far better than to become Distressed in the first place. Tales of glory Sam once wished to make his own; however, thirteen years as a master-of-arms has brought him to the inescapable conclusion that his youth is behind him, that teaching isn't so bad a life, and that grand and noble deeds are great fun to tell over a beer and no fun to actually accomplish with aching joints and a hangover. What's the harm in a comfortable life?

Appearance: Samgar is pleased to note that, at the very least, his looks haven't left him. Masters-of-arms get plenty of exercise, so the build he inherited from his father remains tall, strong, and heroic even if nothing else about him is. His hair (that he does not dye, Morrana, Addy doesn't know what she's talking about, that bottle is oil) remains dark, full, and lustrous as it hangs down to his shoulders. He inherited his mother's Sunrise Islands complexion and her eyes, a brown so dark they look black unless hit by the sun at the right angle. His beard is cropped close to his skin in the fashionable style that flatters his firm jaw, which he personally inspects every morning. The lines of his face are strong, straight, and masculine, save for a moderately unsightly lumpiness in his nose from a poorly-healed break in his teens. His employers mandate that he wear their navy blue and brown livery on the job, and these colors have slowly seeped into the rest of his wardrobe. Eventually, he gave up and officially blued his plate armor in the same colors while commissioning a scabbard and pack to match.

Backstory: Imagine a young man of eighteen, tall and handsome, skilled with a blade, and going off to make his fortune. Ladies love him! Gentlemen too! He laughs high and bold with the recklessness of youth, and no fear shall stop him from leaving his little town and taking on the world. His hair (awesome) streams in the wind. His armor (shining) turns away the blows of his rivals. Then, flush with victory, he shall travel to Minoa, the capital of Nuhan, and find adventure (glorious) from the king (impressed.) The people (ecstatic) will cheer his name for the ages.

Fast forward seventeen years. Observe the consequences of popularity with the ladies: one particular teenage consequence and her mother, who was foolish enough to be taken in by his looks but not foolish enough to think good looks an acceptable husband make. Note the adventurer's bold and daring heart, which could never turn away from the adorable, toddling responsibility who, with the sincere affection of childhood, grabs his hair and demands chocolate. Unfortunately, adventure (epic, glorious, etc.) does not feed and house children. While the banal and small-minded townsfolk back home learned banal and small-mind things like 'trades,' Samgar studied the blade. Only through shouting, wheedling, and carefully applied violence did he get his first job: guard outside the moneylender's forum. From there, Sam was able to eventually secure a position as master-of-arms for a merchant family with aspirations to nobility. It's no adventure (grand, splendid,) but it pays for a small house, clothes for Adeline, and beer with his old watch buddies. Sometimes the real treasure was the co-parenting we found along the way.

Weapons/Skills: Forget this magic bullshit. Whatever happened to good, clean hacking off extremities with a sharp piece of metal? Sam's specialty is the sword, the claymore, to be precise. He has no shield because he likes to live dangerously. He has full plate armor because not that dangerously.

Anything Interesting?: Not for a long time.