PLAYED BY: Trinity Peckham
CHARACTER NAME: Asmund Adirchem
PRONOUN(S): She/Her
CLASS: Rogue
AGE: 16
RACE: Human
HAIR: Dark brown with dyed tips, though it may vary.
EYES: Blue
OCCUPATION: Asmund is working as a merchant, preparing to take over the family business. Completely against her will, of course.
KNOWN SKILLS: Rolling her eyes, scoffing, and bullying people into buying her stock.
BIRTHPLACE: Asmund was born in New Aldoria, but her parents are from Regular Aldoria.
APPEARANCE: Asmund keeps her clothes neat and clean, they are the last shred of dignity she has left.
NOTABLE TRAITS: Asmund would really rather be anywhere else, is always chewing on something, and has a superiority complex.
RELATIONSHIPS: Asmund’s parents are dead (to her). She used to travel with a Bard from New Hope named Ivis, and Hephorus, a Mercenary from Faedrun.
RUMORS: “Her parents had to drive her out of the house, literally kicking and screaming. And biting.”
BIO / BACKGROUND HISTORY:
“-When I had fetched the water from the well, I crested the hill to see my monastery consumed by flames. The heathens who did it rounded up the survivors and brutally executed them, then left the bodies to rot where they lay. Over the next twenty years, I hunted down and slaughtered every one of the god-forsaken bastards who killed my family. After I had spilled the last man’s blood, I didn’t know what to do. I had been in the revenge business so long that I no longer knew any other way. I tried to rejoin the brotherhood, but they would not take me back. Having no other choice, I became a sellsword, indiscriminately killing the pure and the wicked alike so long as I was paid for my sin. I have traveled every inch of Mardrun by now and I had covered half of Faedrun offering my terrible service. That brings me to this fire tonight, sharing my life story with you all. I hope my fate may be some cautionary tale for you, and you may learn from it. I cannot escape this though. My very existence has become punishment for my transgression.” The warrior put his head down and wept. I put down the fried donkey balls
“What a stupid idea, you idiot. Why wouldn’t you just hire someone else to kill those guys? Now you’re all- that.” I gestured vaguely to all of him. “Ew.” The warrior raised his tear streaked face.
“Then what tale do you have? What trials have you faced, what fury hath the heavens wrought upon your poor life that you would mock me?”
“Obviously you know of the Adirchem Trading Company, stretching from Aldoria to the ends of Tielorrien, the beginnings of which go beyond any wise man’s earliest memory, blah, blah, blah.
My parents got the brilliant idea to force me to learn the crusty old trade. They tried to convince me that it was my responsibility to take on the family business after their death. They set me up as a manager in the local shop. It sucked donkey balls. Which were always sold out. I had to get there sometime before lunch and make sure this crusty old dude did his job, and he just sat there. These stupid kids kept coming in and running away with stuff. I hate kids.
Over the next year, I had to sit in like, five different shops. They all had crusty old men sitting at the counter and stupid kids running around. It’s not my fault that the businesses lost all that silver. It must have been those snot-nosed kids.
On my pony’s half-birthday, my parents did the worst thing ever. They gave me a merchant cart “and your wits, like my father and his father and his father, and-” you get it. They expected me to go out and sell junk. On my own. Like a dirty merchant-person. Like my father and his father before him.
Oh yeah, and they gave me this stupid bird to send them monthly updates. It’s like, a goose, or something. Like I even want to talk to them anymore.
For the first few months, I didn’t want to write the stupid letters. After a few Vandregonian Rangers sent by my parents showed up at my cart, I coincidentally decided that it would be good to practice my handwriting.
All of this was the fault of those bratty, snot-nosed, skid-mark of life, weasely, rat-toothed, scrawny, sickly, hobbled, wheezing orphans!”