Clint of the Eastwood

Surly Old Self-Medicating Ranger

Description:

RACE: Wood-Elf
CLASS: Ranger
BACKGROUND: Outlander
ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral

AGE: 463
HEIGHT: 5’3
WEIGHT: 110lb
EYES: Green
HAIR: Black
SKIN: Copper

PERSONALITY TRAITS: “I’m driven by a wanderlust that led me away from home.”
Clint’s home was burned to the ground, so as long as he’s at least close to forest he doesn’t really care where he is.
IDEALS:CHANGE – Life is like the seasons, in constant change, and we must change with it.” A philosophy that he tries to live by.
BONDS: “I will bring terrible wrath down on the evildoers who destroyed my homeland.” – see below for Enemies
FLAWS: “I am slow to trust members of other races, tribes, and societies.” squints and grunts around pipe

PARTY STATUS: Killed in battle by a racist, corrupted, fey warrior. Apart from the fact that Arguile was a dick, it wasn’t a bad way to die. Although now someone else must take up the mantle of Clarence-trainer in the arts of war.

Bio:

HOMETOWN: An unknown, now non-existent wood-elf village in the East Wood.

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BACKSTORY: Clint was born into a small elvish village in the forest to the north-east of Lake Galahad. He never knew its name, as it was always either “the village” or just “home”, and he was one of four children born that century. Elves do not have large families, and as they are slow to mature and settle, children are rare, so having four born within a few years of each other was cause for much celebration. They were treasured and given the very best the village could provide – they did not have much by way of material riches, but loved and taught everything the adults knew of magic, and the art of living the wild wood.
For the first 50 years of his life, the only sentient beings Clint had seen other than wood-elves were the fae who would come to trade gossip and share drink. He picked up Sylvan by eavesdropping first, and when the aptitude for language was discovered, this transformed into formal lessons. Humans rarely dared the forest deeps, and their closest neighbours were the orcs of the Bloodfang clan with whom there was an uneasy peace.
It was in his 85th year, when the children were starting to consider taking adult names, that a harried fae appeared in the middle of the village, his wings tattered and trembling, with the stench of an orcish war-party around him. Clint never did find out who the fae was, or how he’d come to be caught in that situation, for the children were instantly hustled away under the pretext of a task – to fetch some medicinal lichen that grew on the top branches of the giant firs.
If Clint hadn’t been quite as quick at the task, he wouldn’t have been already returning to his home while the orcs were sporting with their prey. The wood-elves of Clint’s village were excellent hunters, trackers, and guides, but they could not withstand the war-parties might and were slain to a one. The fae lay among them, stripped of his wings and glamours. Grief makes many people do foolish things, and Clint was no exception. He sneaked close to the village, clutching the small dagger used to cut the herbs, and even in his turmoil he excelled at stealth. One orc he stabbed in the kidneys and left to die, another was hamstrung and had his throat cut, but the third caught him, roaring with laughter at the thought of being attacked by an elven child. And this would have been the end for him, had this been a clan-sanctioned raid. However, the boy couldn’t have known that the Bloodfang clan was being rocked by internecine conflict, and the fragile peace between the two peoples was destroyed by a small radical faction that were already wiped out on the clan grounds, with just this returning war-party remaining. And even that was not for long, for Chief Hrokka did not believe in forgiving those who endangered the prosperity of his clan. As the war-party was ground to dog-meat, the young wood-elf was robbed of the chance to exact vengeance himself upon those directly responsible for the destruction of his family and home; and while the chief arrived in time to save the young wood-elf’s life, it was far too late to stop the hatred festering in his heart.

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Now, Clint was raised with honour, and no matter how he now felt about orcs in general, he could not deny that Hrokka and those loyal to him saved his life, and probably those of the other children. So a blood debt was owed, a life for life, at the very least. He stayed with the chief’s family only long enough to heal from the bruises and scrapes gained during his brief capture, and to name himself an adult. He chose the name Clint, short and harsh, to reflect the state of his being (a move that he would come to regret in the centuries to come, once the pain and rage faded), and disappeared into the forest.
He wandered for many years, sometimes acting as a guide or trapper for hire to travelers, other times hunting orcs that would wander from the clan grounds. He never saw two of his childhood friends again, and it was a long time before he ran into Ralla, who became Rhialeen. It wasn’t until Rhialeen left that he began to think that perhaps it was time to let the burden of vengeance go, and to move on. It is hard to let go of bitterness nursed for so long, and for many years nothing really changed, although his heart was increasingly uneasy with his chosen life. It wasn’t until he was hired to guide a certain party of adventurers through the deep forest, did the means and motivation for this present itself to take that final step.

FRIENDS: Clint’s attitude and general demeanor preclude having many friends. Although irritable and with a low tolerance for fools, he is not the unapproachable old menace he is perceived to be. Clint somewhat surprised himself when he agreed to join the party of adventurers, but reasoned that if anything would help him settle his demons, this quest would be it.

ENEMIES: His favoured foes are Orcs and Goblins. The former for the destruction of his home and death of his family, and the latter simply because they’re a bunch of nasty murdering little shits who spread misery wherever they go. While he is now letting go of the anger he has held against Orcs for these many years, Clint is still a formidable foe to them.

THE PARTY: He is glad that Laucien and Sanjo are present to do most of the talking and interacting for him, and quietly favours Amma as a fellow archer and orphan. Although he finds her often open hostility and rage hard to deal with. Adric and Sil both frustrate him with their naivete and foolishness. Clint has known several druids in his life, and feels that Adric is capable of much, but doesn’t not how to approach the subject. Sil’s attitude sets his teeth on edge in ways no other high-elf has managed in his long life.
He has also adopted Clarence the donkey as a pet, and is trying to train into being a battle-donkey. This is hampered by the fact that Clint’s talents lie in killing animals, not training them, and by Clarence’s low IQ (the application to Donkey Mensa was rejected).

Clint of the Eastwood

Of Crows, Dirt and Dongs AlexM