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Ramson
James "Ram" Ramson
| Name | Ramson |
|---|---|
| Status | Active |
| Occupation | Woodman and Hunter |
| Age | Into his thirties. |
| Race | Man |
|---|---|
| Residence | A lodge come workshop in Bree-Land, though his father and sister live there |
| Kinship | None |
| Outward Appearance | To strangers whom his gaze rests upon, he may be taken as the most grudging of woodsmen, those who know him though would take his continuing gaze as one of interest, or that of a wary man of the land.
His clothes are of simple make but made to last and look as though their wearer would be well at home covered in wood shavings and dirt found during a long day's toil. He can mostly be seen wandering to an inn or lodge at the end of a hard day, his rough and ready work pack upon his back, holding all sorts of cherished tools.
Some deem him a gentle giant. His practical, and rustic ways are sometimes mocked due to his superstition. Few would warn of his rare and heated temper, as they say, wise men fear the anger of a gentle man. |
|---|
Background
Once a quiet and superstitious worker of Bree, selling his wares and his time. Having learned of woodworking from his father, and the art of tracking from his uncle he has a confidence in woodland craft some find hard to muster.
His work carried him around the lands of Bree, paid for his whittles and woodworks and his valuable time. Only few have ever gotten to know him properly due to his superstitious ways. He was once mostly seen among the edges of the woods perfecting his craft or peddling a ware. On other, more rare occasions he has been known to visit various sites to leave gifts in the form of wooden figures, no one, including himself really know why.
His skills as a woodsman, crafting, trapping, fishing and living out among the wildlife are hobbies, as well his livelihood.
| Friends | A few from the locals of Bree-Land, fellow workers and those he grew up with. |
|---|---|
| Relatives | Apart from his father and sister some relatives dot the landscape of Bree-Land, though he has little reason to see them, and little reason to speak with them. |
| Rivals/Enemies | A man's worst enemy is blunt tools. |
| Loves | The solitude when put to work, foraged food and sharing what little wealth he comes across. |
|---|---|
| Hates | Selfishness and ignorance, trivial bickering and the noise and bitterness of some of the folk of Bree-Town. |
| Motivation | To live a happy life and maybe one day retire to a small home in Chetwood. |
| Quotes | ''A blunt tool's even worse on the hands than a sharp one.'' |
