Tom

In many respects, Tom Wisefinger was an exemplary halfling. A nobleman from a wealthy and esteemed family, Tom dwelt in the luxurious Wisefinger estate. It had stood in the village of Oakridge, in the northern realm of Folkhaven, for ten generations.

Like many halflings, Tom enjoyed boisterous parties, delectable food, and the comforts of home. But Tom was peculiar in one way. He took great interest in ancient civilizations, and had declared it his life's work to collect artifacts from bygone eras. Most halflings did not concern themselves with the comings and goings of outsiders, beyond the usual business with traveling merchants from Murzenhall or Sira. But Tom Wisefinger was consumed by a desire to learn everything there was to know about Humans, Dwarves and Fae. 

Tom dreamt of acquiring enough relics to open his own museum in Oakridge, so that sightseers from far and wide could marvel at fragments of the past. He had procured a few rare artifacts thus far, which he proudly displayed on the mantle above his hearth. A gem-studded dagger of early Terethian craftmanship, an old battered Geldarian helm, and a weathered stone tablet from the nearby realm of Freyland, upon which was carved a depiction of Celedor and Celedwen, were among his most prized possessions.

Tom spent much of his spare time poring over old books, which he purchased from wayfarers. And he would often record accounts of his own discoveries in various journals, which were littered about his home. Occasionally, he would set off on brief excursions to the surrounding country to search for items of interest. The northern lands had a bloody history, and many battles took place not far from his manor. It was not uncommon to find arms and armor, or jewelry, in the sediment, or at the banks of rivers, and Tom's keen eyes could spot them with greater ease than those of the Hinterlanders which also dwelt in these lands. As much as he was tempted, Tom had never set foot in the old barrows which dotted the land east of the Bristlebank River. Not only did he have his reputation to consider, but it was said that these old barrows were haunted by restless spirits. 

Among the traveling folk which would frequently pass through Oakridge, dwarves were perhaps the most numerous. One day, Tom encountered a dwarf who claimed to have a map to the greatest treasure hoard in all of Tarn. The peculiar fellow was dressed in a heavy brown cloak, the faint twinkle of his eyes scarcely visible beneath his drooping hood. He spoke in hushed tones, and his eyes darted here and there, as he unfolded an aged map in front of the curious halfling. It was covered in faded runes, with faint stains of blood around the corners. Upon the parchment were inked crude depictions of mountains and ancient paths, leading to the Forbidden Land to the southwest. Tom, like every halfling, knew that this accursed realm was once the domain of the Vorgar, in a time before humans had awakened in the world. Surely if the townsfolk knew he possessed such a thing, they may no longer hold him in such high esteem.  

And yet, Tom Wisefinger's curiosity was piqued. Could there still be relics from that ancient time, in that faraway treasure hoard, kept intact for all these years? The dwarf, who neglected to mention his name, demanded a hefty price for the map—even by Tom's estimation, and he was used to parting with coins rather frivolously. But the halfling's desire for adventure welled up within him, so much so that the talk of mighty dragons guarding the treasure seemed to go in one pointed ear and out the other.  

Tom bid the stranger farewell, quickly concealing the map in a pocket on the inside of his jerkin, and off he went, toward Wisefinger Manor. When he arrived home, he began to pack his things. For a brief moment, he hesitated. Any sensible halfling would not risk life and limb, so far away from home, on the mere possibility of treasure. Especially when ten generations of wealth were already safely stashed away in the safes below the manor. But, Tom was no ordinary halfling, after all. His eyes narrowed with focus as he plucked his dagger from above the mantle. Terethian steel, it glinted proudly in the moonlight. Elven blades seldom dull, even after centuries have passed, and the Terethians were renowned smiths, among their race. He would certainly fell no dragon with this blade, but perhaps it would be some protection against bandits, wolves, or goblins. 

Tom had no children or wife, so he wrote a letter to his cousin, Maisy Riverbottom, insisting that she look after his things while he was away "on  business." "If misfortune should take me, and I do not return," he wrote in elegant pen-strokes, "the manor is yours." Then, Tom fetched his favorite walking stick, and packed a few fine meals—good, wholesome halfling food—and was on his way.

If you choose Tom, you will start the game with an extra Food card. Not only that, but Food will heal tom for 4 damage, instead of the usual 3. Tom has 7 toughness.