Tom's halfling sorcerer
Weight: 45 lbs
Roscoe in a large town to the North, which was always being attacked by bored adventurers. It was common for them to take halflings from the village, stick them in barrels and roll them down mountain sides. Roscoe was one of these poor unfortunate souls, but he had come up with an idea. He got his father, a carpenter, to make stronger barrels and leave them along the outskirts of town. The next time the adventurers abducted halflings, Roscoe was taken, and so were one or two of his father’s barrels. When the adventurers jammed the halflings into the barrels, Roscoe made sure to jump into his father’s barrel. When they were kicked down, all the other barrels smashed on rocks and trees, killing them brutally. But, Roscoe’s held and he traveled over a mile, bouncing a dozens feet a dozen times, and even managed to keep rolling after it sailed off a small cliff.
The rolling had a terrible effect on Roscoe however, as he smashed around until he was barely conscious, vomited alarming amounts of bile and blood, soiled himself in fear, sustained a severe concussion, several broken bones, and had a series of infected splinters. When the barrel finally stopped rolling, the adventurers climbed their bets and left the battered halflings along the hillside to die. But Roscoe did not die. The barrel landed with him in a slanted sitting position inside the barrel, soaking in a small pool of his own fluids. His abusive mother found him the next day, and in a fit of rage savagely beat him for ruining the barrel.
Roscoe’s friends teased him endlessly about that night, and started to call him Goodbarrel after the barrel that saved his life, but not his dignity.
Due to this traumatic event, when ever Roscoe gets dizzy he immediately vomits, easily becomes seasick, is highly uncomfortable around barrels, deathly afraid of being in a barrel, and decided to become an adventurer. He thought, “Well, these raids aren’t stopping, so if I can’t beat’em, join’em!”
In a recent adventure, he was hired to guard a traveling merchant’s wagon, but bandits managed to raid it anyway. Feeling ashamed and like less of a halfling, he wandered on until he found a ground of adventurers attempting to get inside [[Mad Martigan]]’s tower. He decided to join as he was bored out of his head and needed to compensate, if you know what I mean.