| Full Name |
Wrengar Bloodbeard |
| Race |
Dwarf |
| Classes/Levels |
Barbarian 4 |
| Gender |
Male |
| Size |
Medium |
| Age |
105 |
| Special Abilities |
Defensive training, Hardy, Relentless, Greed, Rock stepper, Darkvision, Hatred, Berserker of the Society, Glory of Old, Two-Weapon Fighting |
| Alignment |
True neutral |
| Deity |
Angradd |
| Location |
Absalom |
| Languages |
Common, Dwarven |
| Occupation |
Warrior |
| Strength |
16 |
| Dexterity |
16 |
| Constitution |
16 |
| Intelligence |
10 |
| Wisdom |
14 |
| Charisma |
5 |
About Wrengar Bloodbeard
His face is not inviting - in fact his whole demeanor seems to discourage conversation. It's not just the network of scars that criss-cross his visage. It's not just the gruff voice that seems constantly annoyed that it needs to be used. It's not even the variety of axes that are shoved through belts and bandoliers. It's the eyes. Eyes that smolder and glare at everyone and everything, eyes that open onto a mind bathed in pain and rage, rage that at any moment seems like it could burst forth and consume you in a vicious storm of anger and violence. That's why he's sitting at a table alone. And that's why alone he will stay.
