Thurin Stoutarm
Le visage normalement stoïque de Thurin est devenu un peu curieux par les huffs et les bouffées du Hafling. "Désolé, jeune fille. Sans vouloir t'offenser, lui a-t-il dit. Il a dû admettre qu'il était difficile de savoir si un Halfling était jeune ou vieux, mais bien moins qu'un Elf qu'il connaissait. "Trente-quatre est jeune en comptant Nwarf. Nous sommes barbus jusqu'à l'âge de cinquante ans, vous savez." Il semblait qu'il ne voulait vraiment pas commencer une confrontation avec le seul ici qui ne pouvait pas atteindre la taille d'un homme avec le niveau des yeux.
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.