Thurin Stoutarm
Thurin mâchait les derniers morceaux de son deuxième poisson, regardant la petite Lass de Halfling alors qu'elle a glissé son poisson presque trop vite pour comprendre. Il a laissé sortir un sourire amical. Il avait beaucoup aimé les petits gens. Les champignons qui ont été apportés ne l'intéressaient pas particulièrement. Les champignons n'étaient pas destinés à un nain à moins qu'ils n'aient peu d'autre chose à manger. Il se souvint qu'ils étaient populaires parmi Hobbits et Bree Men. Les elfes aussi, apparemment.
"T'es un grand ours, dis-tu?" il demanda à haute voix, ses grands bras se reposant maintenant sur ses jambes courtes mais fortes. Il s'est essuyé la bouche avec sa barbe noire. Il ne dirait plus rien, mais a plutôt essayé de déchiffrer si combattre une telle bête était quelque chose de proche de combattre un Troll Cave. Les nains avaient certaines techniques pour s'occuper de ces créatures. Est-ce qu'ils travailleraient aussi sur cette bête? Il pensait qu'il aurait besoin d'une nouvelle peau d'ours aussi...
Name: Thurin Stoutarm
Age: 118
Sex: M
Race: Dwarf
Class: Fighter
Equipment: backpack, a week's worth of rations, small tent, whetstone, bandage x 2. A dwarf-made two-handed ax(35), Mail Armor (20) Leather armor over it (15) Saddled Pony, Oil (10), Torch x2 (6), Whetstone (5), Flask (5).
Background story: He was a young Dwarf from the Ironhills when the call to battle reached his hold. He was 40 years old, with a beard that didn't reach his belt, and marched forward to the Battle of the Five Armies. He remembered the elvish arrows and the Orc scimitars, himself felling a few Orcs himself. He helped bury the dead, and held himself both physically and mentally well despite his youth.
He stayed in Erebor to work the mines, and then volunteered for Balin's adventure to Khaza-dum. He was never a heroic dwarf, but he had always been reliable and duty bound. Thurin made his way into the Misty Mountains with Balin and the Dwarven group, before they were attacked by Goblins and Trolls. He was one of the runners sent out to give word they were being attacked, and tried to arrive to Erebor but was cut off from it being attacked by Mordor's forces. He knew he couldn't make it in, so he decided to go back into the Misty Mountains to fight with his brethren, but found them all dead. He had been wandering ever since, looking for a way to atone for his failings.