First Name: Manderley
Last Name: Thimbledown
Appearance: Short, as is the lot in life of halflings. Wearing clothes perpetually tinged with dust from his constant travels, and a well worn lute never far from his side.
Race: Halfling
Age: 25
Height 3 feet and a smattering of inches
Weight: 65 lbs soaking wet
Eyes: Sky Blue
Hair: Reddish Blonde
Facial Hair Style: An ever trendy Mustache and Van Dyke combo. Women want it, men want to grow one of their own.
Personality Profile: Irrepressibly friendly and outgoing, always eager to meet new people and see new things. Fancies himself a Ladies man and curses his luck that all the bar maids in the land seem to have taken vows of chastity.
General Health: Thanks to some very devout bar maids and his own fastidiousness, Manderley remains disease free. A drink with friends is something to be enjoyed, but rarely gets drunk; when your wits are your best defense it's a bad idea to rid yourself of them on purpose.
Deity:Tymorra, God of the open road.
Initial Alignment: Chaotic Good. Life's too short to bother with a lot of needless rules, and doing right by others has a way of coming back in spades.
Profession:Wandering Minstrel, Rogue Poet, Master of Seduction on Two continents and Amateur Resume Embellisher.
Base Class & Proposed Development:Fighter and Bard, Crack shot with a Crossbow, and no slouch in the magic department. Picked up all the fighter I care to, Bard for life from here on out.
Habits/Hobbies: Making limericks, ditties, and flirting shamelessly with taller women.
Languages: Common and Halfling. Common is the language of the cultural elite, and everyone knows it, so why bother getting fancy?
Weapon of Choice: Heavy Crossbow. If you have to kill something, accept no substitutes.
Background: Manderley grew up all over the Sword Coast as part of a traveling band of entertainers. His parents were tumblers and acrobats, and much of his agility comes from early childhood training to follow in their footsteps.
The young Manderley experienced a revelation early in life however, when he realized that women are for more impressed by a fellow who can make a song comparing their eyes to the stars than by a man who can put both legs behind his own head and do a double back hand-spring. He became a Bard and never looked back.
Goals:Wine, Women and Song, in as large of an abundance as possible, allowances being made for the physical limits of the universe to contain a finite amount of the aforementioned articles.
Possible Plot-Hook Ideas and Misc Facts: a Jilted ex-lover hiring thugs to rough him up, a song mocking a noble who turns out to be more influential than expected, perhaps a long night of drinking ending with waking up in a strange land with no idea how he got there or how to get back home.
The traveling show he grew up with could bring tidings of misfortune for his parents. It could turn out his new lute is out of tune because it was used to hide a map leading somewhere of importance, and the person/s who stashed want it back very badly.
Go crazy
