Dirren “Wandy” Wende

Pronunciation: Dear-in “Wand-e” When-day
Race: Halfling
Class: Ranger (Melee)
Swiftwater Clan

Appearance

Wandy is 4’2” and 85 lbs, quite large for a 22 year old Halfling.  He
has dark brown hair and green eyes, well kept.  His clothing is
beautifully wrought, but worn and somewhat backwards and out-of-date.
He has a certain joyous charisma and a contagious wanderlust.  He is
cheerful, with a dry wit.  In battle he is competent, cool, and fights
with forethought and precision.  But he sometimes turns angry,
vengeful, preternaturally wicked and vindictive.  He has a deep pain
that sits just below the surface of his face and only bares itself in
combat.  But it focuses him nonetheless.  This is how he got this way,
and why he needs to prove himself.

Backstory

It was to be a conspicuously early morning.  Wandy rolled over, his
head pounding and his face throbbing.  His adventuring party’s
celebration had been long and lusty, with most of Georgi’s stash of
grain alcohol being drunk in the process.  No wonder his mouth felt
like a spider’s nest.  To a Halfling a half-pint of strong liquor was
quite a bit too much.  Luckily his father had taught him, among other
things, how to drink.

Wandy took a long pull on his water flask and tried to focus on
something nearby, like his hand.

Two years ago Wandy had been far south of here, along the river, on
his family’s houseboat.  He and his father Donal and his brother Deln
were traders.  They moved quilts and other finished textiles from the
skilled Swiftwater craftsmen at sea to the bustling towns inland.
There was a lack of fine tapestries along the river and wherever the
Wende’s made an appearance they also made a killing.  Monetarily that
is.  Times were good for their family and their houseboat had grown to
twice its size in just a few years.  Deln and he finally had a room of
their own!

As their habit would have it Wandy and his father would regularly
travel together with the pack animals, laden with merchandise, far
from the river and inland to market.  Deln, the older of the two boys
by six years, would protect the houseboat at the mooring along the
river and wait for their return.  Wandy would range far ahead of his
father, scouting a path, and report back as they progressed.  At night
they would hole up in abandoned burrows, vaults, caves, or whatever
structures seemed empty enough to hold two Halflings and three strong
ponies.  When the ponies were emptied of their goods they would sell
them as well and make their way back to the houseboat.  Back out to
sea again to see the Swiftwater clan barges for more textiles, then
lather rinse and repeat…  It was a happy life of travel and
companionship.  But it was also repetitive and some days the boat
seemed very very small.

Donal had taught Wandy quite a bit since their mother had drowned 12
years ago, perhaps more than he would have had to if she had lived.
Donal taught Wandy how to protect himself in the wild, both on the
seas and on and below the ground.  Donal would not talk of how he
learned the martial skill he shared with Wandy.  He thought his father
may have fought in the war, but Donal was not likely to tell him now.

The last trip that Wandy had taken inland from the river was without
his father or his brother.  Both had taken ill and when Wandy returned
two weeks later after selling the quilts and the ponies both of them
were dead.  Fever had caught them, and they wasted away on that
houseboat waiting for him to return.  He buried them under a willow
tree.  He got drunk and burned the boat, taking what wasn’t flamable
for sale or barter in town.

It was a few months binging before he ran out of money.  He joined
with Georgi’s gang to get some back looting old crypts.  But he
doesn’t like how Georgi runs things, doesn’t like how close they come
to stealing these days.  He wants out of this party.  Perhaps it is
time to make a name for himself, for his family, for his clan.

Since then Wandy has lived up to his nickname, wandering from pub to
tavern, from party to party, trying to find a place for himself,
trying to forget his past.  He has a penchant for strong drink in
great quantity, sharp swords and well wrought crossbows, and he ranges
north to find his way once more.