Monty Brannag's page

About Monty Brannag

A cynical-looking man with scruffy brown hair and a nose that has seen better days. He stands with remnants of a military bearing, and always looks like he'd rather be somewhere else. His armor always has a dent or two but his sword looks better-cared for, and the bottles and flasks he carries at his belt contain various fizzy liquids that aren't magic potions.

He wanted to be a military man, but he just didn't have the self-discipline. Instead of attending a military college, he learned to fist-fight from Tymon's gladiators, with a mix of whatever styles he had the patience to learn. Getting thrown out of every organized fighting profession he tried, his mercenary and guard contracts led him down to the direction of Absalom. With his last copper left, he heard about the Pathfinders again and decided to give it his last shot.

An impatient and short-tempered man, he hates it when people get his name wrong or think of him as brainless muscle and nothing else. He has his moral standards (he would rather free slaves than own them) and sometimes exaggerates about how much drinking he really does.

Now, after finally getting those lessons from the Major and the more patient tutors in the Steel Falcons, he finally achieved the rank of Lance-Corporal, and with it, recovered his pride. Proud of having talked to foes to end fights, he only wishes he knew how to talk to women to spend nights.