Ruun Wheatorb
Ruun Wheatorb is one of the oldest inhabitants of Mythrite, having settled in the region decades ago to ply his trade as a weaver in a sleepy nearby village. When he was a young journeyman weaver, he was tricked by a conman about the wondrous growth of the fabled community of Llorkh; Ruun spent his entire savings on a deed that turned out to be worthless--a tract of barren land that would grow nothing but scrub, too far from the center of town to actually be useful to a craftsman. It would be decades before Llorkh fell and Mythrite grew in the manner that the con artist had described to Ruun, and in that time, he became bitter and disillusioned about his lot in life.
Ruun has the usual thin, willowy frame of an elf, and his flaxen hair is just beginning to turn from gold to silver, which he wears to his shoulders in the high elf style. In truth, he is a common wood elf, despite his occasional claim of distant royal relations. His hands are well-worn and long-fingered, obviously those of a skilled craftsman. His clothes are plain and often stained with various dyes that he uses to decorate his work. As of late, he is usually sporting a series of purple bruises about his face, as well as a broken nose.
Basketweaving is one of the many professions in Mythrite that haven’t seen much of a boost from the boom times, and Ruun has turned his resentments toward the boom times settlers that have been flooding into town. Ruun’s bitter complaints about the “interlopers and fools” can easily be overheard once he’s got a cup or two of drink in him. The whispering of other disgruntled craftsfolk has emboldened him as of late, and Ruun is determined to “do something.” The local Guard has had to intervene four times in fights between Ruun and miners who pick the wrong bar on the wrong night. He continues to pick these fights, despite the fact that every time, he’s lost terribly, and at least once, only survived due to a guard’s intervention. Someone or something may be egging him on, as even his usual drinking companions aren’t sure why he keeps throwing himself into brawls, or what he hopes to accomplish except adding to his collection of bruises.
Wealth & Financial state
Poor
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