Caithren/Hobbit/Miscreant

Greetings. I'm very bored, so you get to be the first CD I go over. Be honored or I'll kill you. Comments in Grey.

Name
Caithren Shudmeyer Sounds like a nice Jewish boy.

Gender
Male Well you certainly made the right choice there.

Age
21 Dude, he's legal. That's hot.

Race
Halfling Well, it's kind of like he's human. Good try.

Tribe
Helmonds Shire Home of the Helmonds Shire Fightin' Silverfish! Goooooo Silverfish!

Occupation
Miscreant You mean, I should be getting paid for this?

Title
Jack of All Trades That sounds like some weird variant for crazy eights.

Overview
Caithren is a cocksure, in your face, wisecracking nuisance. Enough said about his overall personality, Caithren tends to be over intuitive, underhanded and downright uncivil at times. Uncivil? My word! I nearly dropped my monocle in disbelief! Known as “That short fellow what swindled me” to most, “Caithren” to his associates and “that damned hobbit” to anyone in a position of respectable authority who is a racist and presumably not a hobbit themselves, nor in charge of a location with more than one hobbit. The less said about his behaviour and language, the better.

Physical Appearance
Caith, as he is known to some, Woah woah woah, I didn't see him being known by that in the last section. Who are you trying to fool here? You'd have to wake up pretty early to pull the wool over my eyes like that, bub. is roughly a ped tall, with a tangled mess of auburn hair that looks like it hasn’t seen any form of water other than rain for months on end, nor a comb for that matter. Last I checked, hair doesn't see at all. It has no eyes. He tends to walk with something of a cross between a skip and a mad run for his life, depend~~ant~~ing on the situation. He has a “rather dashing” looking scar on his right cheek and a pair of wily looking blue eyes and a charismatic smile to match. He is longer in the leg than he is in the body, and lacks the rather prominent “build” of his folk, though this is generally attributed to the fair amount of exercise he gets being run out of towns, villages, inns, taverns and any other respectable establishment that could possibly come to mind as well as several... well, less than respectable establishments. He's talking about you, The Thirsty Herald.

Clothes
Caith wears a pair of burgundy slacks, a rather dirty shirt that may have at one time been white and a red vest, which is in much the same condition as the rest of his clothing. Burgundy and used to be white? That's an odd condition for a red vest to be in. Being a hobbit, he does not wear shoes, even in the coldest of climates (though what respectable sort of hobbit would get caught away from hearth and food I do not know). This doesn't even apply. At least, this one doesn't *seem* very respectable. Caith also has a longish ankle length traveling jacket made of leather and lined on the inside, which occasionally doubles as a blanket or a sleeping mat if the situation should call for it. The jacket has numerous pockets where Caith keeps the occasional trick or two as well as a “damned wicked sharp” dagger. +1 for having such a good weapon name.

Personality
Caith will not stop talking unless his life or his wallet dependeds on it. Numerous times he has talked his way into and out of trouble as well as at the most inopportune time piped up and offended someone or said something he oughtn’t have said. He is overconfident most of the time, optimistic much of the time and downright uncivil whenever it is possible. In short, Caithren has a mouth on him and he knows how to use it, hot along with a silver tongue as sharp as any dagger. That sounds incredibly inneffective for use as a tongue, rather than a silver dagger. I mean, I wouldn't want a silver dagger in my mouth. I could stab myself by attempting conversation. He is possibly the worst character witness you could look to ever for proof of hobbitish personality and habbits. Except for maybe an orcish barbarian riding a dinosaur covered in highly sophisticated weaponry who lived at the bottom of the sea. Maybe.

a) Strengths

Charisma-Caithren has a talent for talking. He'd have to, with a dagger for a tongue. It’s one of his few redeeming qualities. Charisma simply oozes off of his person at times and he never seems to run out of opportune compliments and methods of giving lip service to people, particularly those in positions of authority. Tee hee, lip service. Tee hee hee.

Wit-Along with his charisma, this is the only other quality that anyone would find of use on a day-to-day basis. The cogs in Caith’s mind are a never ceasing piece of machinery, constantly churning out ideas, insults, and witty comments on a regular basis. Okay, so this guy has a dagger for a tongue and cogs for a brain? He's quickly becoming more machine than man.

Fast Feet-As a result of a fair bit of running and dodging and generally getting out of unpleasant situations, Caithren can run rather quickly when necessary, even though he prefers a jaunty sort of stride most of the time. Further evidence of having a six million dollar hobbit on our hands.

Boomerang- Caithren is somewhat proficient with his boomerang, though because of the metal edge it still occasionally cuts his hand. Maybe he should try talking with the boomerang instead.

b) Weaknesses

Overconfident-Caith’s general aura of overconfidence is obvious enough that a deaf man would smell it if he couldn’t hear it in Caith’s speech.I think the odds of him not hearing it are pretty darn high. My question is, why can't someone who can hear also smell auras? He thinks he will not run out of ideas and ways of getting out of trouble. This however is not the case.

Mouthy- Caith is mouthy in to the extreme. He will not stop talking unless unconscious, gagged, magically silenced, deceased, underwater, choking, or has lost his voice, though he has been known to talk in his sleep as well. He will mouth off to almost anyone at anytime unless he has a very good deal of respect for him or her. Needless to say, this is why his feet wind up having to run so fast.

Greed-If there’s money to be had, Caithren will be there. The tinkling sound of copper, silver and gold coins is irresistible to Caith and he will go very far in pursuit of the elusive goldbard, usually failing to regard the law and sometimes his own safety and that of others.

History
Caithren was born in Helmondshire, the son of an enterprising, gentlemanly sort of hobbit, the polar opposite of his wily, boistrous over-the top son. Wait. So Helmondshire is the son of an enterprising gentlemanly hobbit, and was born the polar opposite of its own son? Hoping his son would grow up to be a farmer, Caithren was taught as such. This was not the case.
Caithren ran away from home at the age of 15 and began to become the person he is today. He never really became mouthy perse; some say it is a defensive mechanism against the rest of the world. He would start talking and never stop. He also never really fit in. Some said it was bad blood on his mother's side, others say he was just born queer, but Caith always attributes it to a general "overall 'atred of the 'ole lifestyle, 'cept the food, the food I could get used to."

Caithren took up thievery and odd jobs ranging from messenger to scullery in order to keep himself fed. As a result of this, Caithren has developed something of a plethora of skills. While he excels at absolutely nothing beyond eating his fill and perhaps running away, Caithren has knowledge enough to pass as some sort of worker of any respectable descripton except a farmer. Even though he was flat out taught how to be one as a youth?

Caithren's travels, as best documented by his frequent traveling partner the mullorc Dagaz, have led him across the length and bredth of Southern Sarvonia, from Ciosa to Bardavos, from Astran to Remusiat from Voldar to Strata and beyond in a frantic dash between hunger, danger and general mischief whenever possible. Caithren's more notable exploits include disrupting a concert by a MasterSPACE GOES HEREbard in Bardavos by replacing a meat pie with one filled with corbies, stealing the wig of a nobleman and attaching it to the weatherHERE AS WELLvane on the victim's house and colouring the water in the well of a small town bright green, leading to a state of minor panic and several rather ang~~ered~~ry housewives threatening to have his hide. They can have my hide if they want. Angry housewives are foxy, mrowr.

Caithren has consorted with everyone from dwarves to brownies, including orcs and occasionally the mullorc Dagaz, who seems to have been the only repetitive associate for four years by most accounts. The most reliable stories place Caithren meeting Dagaz a little south of Astran, and picking up again with him a little west of Astran while being chased by a rather angry group of drunks.

A second meeting occured three months later, when Dagaz encountered Caithren in the company of a group of Black Butterfly Rovers, where he managed to be run out after a rather major... indiscretion which he prefers not to speak about.

The pair traveled for a month until they split up in Milkengrad, where Caithren caught a ship north. He managed to hitch a ride with a caravan into Remusian lands. The excursion ended poorly, with Caithren secreted in a ship's hold and not likely to return to the north for fear of the Remusian port authorities among others.

For the past while, Caithren has been wandering the Santharian heartland and trying not to get himself hanged or otherwise "kilt". Or hanged in a kilt. Terrifying.

During these travels Caith acquired his new favourite “toy” a metal edged boomerang. Occasionally he still cuts himself, due to the fact that he had to train himself how to throw it so that it “won’t come back and slice me ‘ead off.” He also met Writ, a stray Chollian waterdog. The stray followed Caithren right out of town (mostly because he smelt like meat.) Well yeah, he's made of meat. and the two have been inseparable ever since.

Weapons
A boomerang and a dagger, though it is large enough to be a sword for the little hobbit. The boomerang is metal edged and is lovingly referred to by Caith as “like a lit’l puppy, but occasionally it don’t come back, or try to bite your ‘and”

Belongings
Boomerang aside, the only belonging that Caith has of any value is Writ, his dog.

Familiars
Caith has a rather large dog, which he can ride if need be. The dog is named Writ, and is a rather stout companion. He is a Cholian Waterdog, with a dirty gold coloured fur streaked with bits of brown. Rather quiet most of the time, Writ only seems to bark at persons who smell of perfume or somesuch trifle; Caith has often said " 'E just don't like 'em nobles... no one does mind choo." Writ is intensely loyal and is exceptionally good at producing that forlorn stare that would make your heart melt. Aw lookit the widdle puppeh OH GOD, MURIEL CALL THE DOCTOR, I'M HAVING ANOTHER ATTACK!

I've done gone and created the anti-hobbit! it's the most unhobbitlike hobbit you'll ever meet! Until you meet a gnome.