A world of heroic proportions
Marty is the self-appointed (and some might argue unnecessary) town historian.
I don’t totally know what stats, AC, HP, weapons, reflex saves, and crunch are, but this is my description of him:
He’s VERY skinny about 6’3, 6’4 (a beanpole), 26 years, 4 months, and 17 days old. So specific because he’s totally into dates. He has blonde hair, but it’s so dirty and matted you’d think it was brown. His beard is in what you’d call a ‘state of disrepair’. He doesn’t shave it, but then again he’s really not old enough, or hairy enough, for it to really grow in full or long. It’s sort of this prickly mess of patchiness. Not extreme patchiness, like the Janitor in Scrubs when he tried to grow mutton chops, but patchy enough that it’s not a good looking piece of facial hair. His facial features are nothing special, nothing noteworthy other than his nose is a little crooked, a consequence of being broken and healing badly. His eyes are a muddy brown, smallish. He’s not very good looking at all, I mean even if he bathed and shaved his looks just aren’t great.
His left index finger is indented and stained permanently from writing and holding the (I’m assuming he has a quill and ink) quill pen so frequently.His clothes are dirty, as can be expected._ Not totally sure what clothes he’d be wearing, so again, your choice._ They wouldn’t be nice though. He wouldn’t care about how he looks, he’d think it’s a worthless vanity that’s unnecessary to his job. So like cheap clothes, out of style .
His house is something else. I have two ideas for it so you can pick. 1)Small, he built it himself very quickly, so it’s not in the greatest shape but it’s at least new enough that it’s not falling apart. OR 2)Large, as the city started expanding he jumped on it before it was gone. Run-down, it belonged to an old widower who had died just recently. In this case, a good part of it would be boarded up, he for sure wouldn’t use the whole thing.
Either way he’d be in a pretty much one room area. It’d be a desk and papers cluttered and thrown around EVERYWHERE. It’s one of those things that looks disorganized but he thinks he knows where everything is so it’s okay by him.
A lot of this is guesswork and reaching lol so I’m sorry if I’m inaccurately describing the world, I’m going by a fantasy book I read a bit ago.
He’s a bit shy about telling anyone about his life, not because he’s shy or secretive, but because he’d much rather hear their stories. He was the youngest boy of his family, third to youngest child, and he had 4 older brothers, with 2 sisters separating he and the next youngest boy. His father died when he was in his teens, so he never had the opportunity to join his brothers, instead becoming the man of the family. His brothers were adventurers and he had hoped to go into that same line, until the accident. So when his brothers wrote home to their mother tales of adventure, he’d read them to her. He would see how happy it would make her to hear their stories, and while he never made a conscious decision to do that with his life, he became much more interested in reading and writing about trouble than in getting into it himself.
His mother died when he was 21, he left home and wandered around until he found the city at 23.
LIFE IN THE CITY
He promptly chose/built his house, and tried to find a job in the booming city. (So he hasn’t been there quite from the very beginning, but from the beginning of the expansion.) Anyway he doesn’t really have any marketable skills, especially not in what I imagine to be the Middle Earth Las Vegas. He’s not a pimp, a bartender (probably not the correct terms), or anything like that. He tries to find menial work, thinking he can become a handyman of sorts.
It’s doing these types of chores he hears all the stories of the people who hire him, who have been there since the city started. He also hears all their gossip, which of course captures his attention much more strongly than the jobs he’s supposed to be doing. It’s not long until he’s running home as soon as he’s done to write them down. Then taking a break midway through. Then he misses a few jobs here and there because he loses track of time talking, gossiping, recording. His job is word-of-mouth, so after only a short time it’s pretty much over for him. He doesn’t mind as much as he thinks he would. People love someone they can gossip to, without it spreading around that they told. He’s mildly popular, among a select group of people. He’s not friends with everybody, some think of him as lazy, mooching off his friends. He thinks of it more like sharing information for food now and then.
Of course he only tells them relatively unimportant things. In his mind food is relatively unimportant, so why should he waste his valuable information on them? Everything about the city there is to really want to know, beyond housewife drama, is written down in a huge, only about a quarter-full, book in his room. He’s always trying to expand his list of friends/sources.
When he first came he was content to listen and collect, but it’s gotten to the point that he’s too hungry for the information now. He’s not happy to wait until they want to tell him the stories, he thinks of every moment of small-talk and pleasantry as a moment wasted. As a result he can get a little obnoxious sometimes. He doesn’t even dream that he knows and has written down nearly every story of the city, he’s constantly thinking about what he doesn’t know. If it’s possible that there’s somethig he missed? Of course the city is growing and getting more exciting and dramatic everyday so it’s a necessary feeling.