Role

Chapter 3

Outgoing and gregarious as he is, Arstan is still a necromancer. A wizard,
no longer an apprentice, complete with a black robe and undead servants.
He has few non-zombie friends, fewer still now that many of his old pals
decided to take the Imperial oath. Although indifferent towards Empire, he
dislikes being constantly hounded about joining, so he cut off just as many
ties as he made over the years.

Life as a necromancer on the fringes of society is difficult, but Arstan
thinks he's doing well. Company and status would be nice, sure, but so is
not having anyone tell you what to do. He decided to amass wealth, judging
that money will both aid his survival and let him make useful allies without
compromising his independence or indulging cabals in their pointless wars.

His curious mind encourages him to pursue new things and consume knowledge
like a wildfire consumes a forest. His current interests are herbalism,
picked up initially as a means to fight off unpleasant odors so prevalent in
his primary craft, and martial training, owing to his long-held love for
punching or shanking people. He was dissatisfied with how little the guild
had to offer on weapon training, so he struck out on his own for a bit.

He has spent some time outdoors, looking for rare plants and interesting
animal specimens to raise as zombies, and it soon culminated in his first
dragon hunt. A real dragon, slain by Arstan's own army, its hide made to
be worn as is the true purpose of the dragons. And of course, the gold!

As he weighed a red dragon claw in his hand, he remembered his spat with
the guildmaster about swords, shields, and proper combat techniques.
Perhaps the claw would offer a viable alternative to the guild's lackluster
training? Following some crude attempts at a self-developed fighting style,
he likes it so much he has decided on a fitting moniker for himself.

Arstan Redclaw. Has a nice ring to it, yes?