Blunt featured Half-Orc wearing a dark green poncho and traveling leathers.


Jerrow (pronounced with an ‘H’)presents a somewhat scruffy figure, covering himself with a green hooded poncho and brown leathers that are much repaired. Beneath the poncho he wears a mail shirt, and at his hip is a huge hunting blade, as long as a short sword. The bow over his shoulder is well cared for but clearly made by someone who wanted function over form and had no real pride in the work, a dozen like it can be bought cheaply in any shop in the city. Personal touches have been added; a light ravens feather to help judge wind speed and direction, a small patch of wolf-skin over the grip for comfort.

His features are not heavily favored by his Orc heritage, but are too coarse to be called attractive. His form is strong but lean opposed to heavy; over the years he has developed his body for stamina as much as strength.


Ain’t fond of words.

What, that ain’t enough for ya? Fine, fine, just pull up a stool and sit, ain’t fond of folk loomin’ over me neither.

I was born in a place you probably don’t know, and I ain’t about to change that. All I know is I always looked at the horizon. Soon as I could I hauled it outa there and set off to make my mark on the world.

Si, I know. Stupido, right?

I had two oat-cakes I stole, no weapons and the clothes on my back. Made it, oh, about eight miles before I realized what a mistake I’d made. Stubborn, thats was my problem; I carried on for another thirty miles so I was good and lost and just about done for. Just so I wouldn’t turn up back home shamefaced and defeated by a stroll in the woods.

Well clearly I didn’t starve to death or get eaten by anything; an Elf found me. Another fella that looked to the horizens, but chose the land rather than the sea. We never spoke about it much, but I gather that kinda put him at odds with his familia.

He had a great respect for nature, and he just about hated killin’ anything, but he knew some creatures were too dangerous once they had a taste of flesh, so he showed me what he did; traveling around huntin’ man- (or elf- or dwarf-) eaters and just helping out where he could. And I was a boon I guess, an extra pair of hands to help around the place. He taught me what he knew; think he had a son somewhere that hadn’t sided with him when he split with his familia, and he needed to teach me somethin’ I guess.

This ain’t one of those stories where he dies a tragic death and I go out to avenge him or nothin’; he’s still around, but I came of age and it was time to go my own way. Gotta do somethin’ after all.


Beyond the Deep Ridge MasterGameMaster DennisSaunders