Full Name: Duncrist Slayfang

Species: Brown Rat (rattus norveigicus)

Age: Closing on 30 seasons (or year equivalent)

Alignment: Evil

Height: 6' 02"

Weight: Upwards of 220 lbs

Job:

Description:  One look can tell an honest woodlander all they need to know about Duncrist.  He's brawny and coated in a sprinkling of old scars and places where the dull brown fur has been worn from his body due to armor and rough lifestyle.  His tail is thick and heavy, and though he's missing a piece from the very end it indeed looks to be a powerful weapon.  His blue eyes are nearly always half-lidded as if sleepy, and his face is not too pleasing to look on due to the odd wart or remnants of old wounds which took chunks of flesh away from his forehead and snout.
  His garb is that of one who has always lived without many rules.  A pair of ragged navy blue breechclouts and a yellowed linen undershirt cover him, overlaid with a rough gaberdine vest with several pockets on its front.  At his crude woven kelprope belt hangs the scabbard of a scimitar, which he usually keeps there.  His nose is fitted with a small brass ring, and he wears bone circlets on his wrists, ankles, and even his tail.

Possessions:  He is armed with an old scimitar, but his favorite weapon is a long bident that he carries.  He has no other weapons, but is usually kitted out with a flask of strong drink and maybe a sack of loot from a recent excursion.

Strengths:
    - Huge and strong
    - Fairly intelligent
    - Resourceful and thrifty

Weaknesses
    - Ego needs a leash
    - Slow-moving
    - Alcoholic

Personality
  Duncrist is pretty nasty.  His main motivation in life is to look after himself, and he's been known to be stingy with any and all companions.  It's hard to tell if he'd even give his own mother a crust if he were starving also.
  Slayfang is a rat who doesn't give a care, or take any crock.  When addled by ale or grog he's a malicious giant, lashing out senselessly and seeing anybeast who gets in his way as an enemy and an idiot.  Sober he's much more tolerable, but then he's clever and coniving.  He's an analytical sort, always weighing his chances of success and the risks of failure.  He's no coward, but he'll run if he's outmatched… for a while.  He's quite liable to hold a grudge, even for petty reasons, and is eager to exact his revenge in the most horrible way possible.  There is no middle ground when it comes to this rat; he's one of few true vermin...

Background
  Duncrist's tale is nothing special.  He was born in Northern Mossflower to a small collection of farmers, a few families gathered for safety.  They were literate and knowledgeable enough about farming and crafts, but Duncrist's older sister, Ranconie, was a cruel beast from the start.  She was always craving attention and a sense of importance, and so to make herself more powerful in her own mind she bullied any of the younger beasts mercilessly.  Duncrist caught the worst of it, once even getting sewn into his own bedsheets as punishment for forgetting to fetch water for the washing one day.
  When the rat rover was only about thirteen seasons his story changed.  Ranconie had just mouthed off on him again, calling him fat-tail and block-head and various other names.  She told him to go and weed the garden, and that he was weak-willed and lazy.
  She turned back to haul up the pail from the well.  In a rage, Duncrist shoved her and caused her death.  His parents, horrified that their son could do such a thing, raised an alarm.  The farmer rats tried to catch him, but he was gone in a flash, knowing they'd be out for his blood after the killing.  Soon after he encountered a little band of vermin, grunts and lackeys to a ferret named Zrulla who was famed as a pawfighter.  Duncrist challenged him and flattened the ferret fairly easily, being so large and strong.  The vermin, numbering some twenty, were cowed into submission and became Duncrist's band of marauding thieves and raiders.
  Duncrist now has the honor of being one of the more feared barbarian vermin looters in the locality of Mossflower.

Threads:
  An Unexpected Party (soon to join!)