About Dogar the Wild
Currently playing in: Last Chance
(Ranks + class skill + ability + Miscellaneous = total) CS=Class Skill
7 Points ((6 per lvl -1 Int Mod+2 bonus)* (1 lvl)=7 ) *ACP - 0)
Acrobatics* (Dex) 1+3+2+1= 7 CS
DAREDEVIL/SAVAGE SKALD BARD SPECIAL ABILITIES:
DWARF: (all included)
Cantrips; 4, 1st; 2
Cantrips DC13: Ghost Sound, Haunted Fey Aspect, Mage Hand, Resistance (unlimited)
(Plus Scrolls, Wands, Potions etc-See Gear!)
Gear on Person:
ITEMS Prices & Abilities:
Total Spent: 0gp
Load: lbs=Light Load (up to lbs)
Current Wealth: 0gp 0sp 0cp
BACKGROUND & PERSONALITY:
Dogar is a bit of a...wild man, to say the least. He's been kicked out of the last seven Dwarven Halls he's lived in. For getting too drunk. From a Dwarven Hall. Seven of them. For being too drunk. Exactly. I see you get my drift. While he's usually a bit too lazy to ever do anything to be considered truly evil, the truth is that he is indeed much less likely to help a stranger in need than he is to help them. Unless of course there were to be something in it for him.
Likely Dogar's worst quality (and there are several) is that he is one mean, mean drunk. Followed closely by this is that he will fight, anyone, at the drop of a dime. In fact, he'll fight even if the dime is still safely tucked away in your pocket. His chances of actually winning the fight have very little to do with it, Dogar just happens to speak best with his fists, or whatever he happens to be holding in them. To date, his win column is certainly much bigger than his loss column though. This statistic may be inaccurate though as several of those he has supposedly lost against have disappeared under strange and mysterious circumstances, so have not been available for corroboration.
Dogar has, over his rambunctious life, been called many things: Arrogant, A$$#@le, Bully, Bastard, Grump, Grouch, Idiot, Jerk, Kitty Stomper, Layabout, Lazy, Lecher, Murderer, Monster, Puppy Killer, Sinner, Sloth, Ugly, Viscous, Wastrel, to name just a few. Interestingly enough, he has very rarely been called any of these things to his face. Well, at least not by people interested in keeping their teeth in their mouth, as opposed to, say, carrying them around in a cup. (And he strenuously asserts that both the offending Kitty and Puppy were looking at him funny).
Drogar has worked in a variety of professions, from Bouncer to Bone Breaker, from Mercenary to Murderer-for-Hire, basically, whatever pays the bar tab. He really stepped into it though with his last gig. It seemed simple at first, publicly rough up and embarrass the amorous competition of one less-then-scrupulous bar owner (ha! I jest!) for the attentions of a particularly beautiful courtesan. Who knew that the victim would have had such a glass chin! Or neck, rather, as the case turned out to be. And who knew even more that the scrawny sop would just happen to be the beloved nephew of the Mayor. So there you have it. Dogar of course squealed at the first opportunity, trying to pin the blame on the bartender, but there was little chance of his word being believed over that of such a fine, upstanding member of the community (I je...well, you know my humour by now). So, faced with the choice of either hanging by his neck till dead, or dying on his feet in some dungeon, Dogar jumped at the chance. Besides, this way he at least still had a shot of getting his hands on the neck of that bartender. And maybe the mayor too, just for good measure.