Name: Margim Zanfund Carver
Race: Half-orc
Appearance: Not bad looking for having Orcish blood. A rather large, muscular man with crude features, olive-brown skin, and thick black hair.
Personality: Rather gruff and surly. Lome maintains that he is a sweetheart beneath the harsh exterior, but no one really believes her. He did, to the surprise of all, turn out to be a loyal and conscientious husband and father… until he vanished some years ago. Lome quietly insists that his disappearance is not a negative reflection on his character, but some have doubts.
Background: Margim came to Doerstadt as a young man(?) about 20 years ago. No one knows quite where he came from, but Doerstadt is a fairly large city, and people coming and going from other places isn't terribly odd. His brusque manner gained him few friends, but didn't stop him from setting up Carver's Butcher Shop in the marketplace south of the river. His meats were good, his prices decent, and his dealings honest, and so he got along just fine in the bustling downtown without having to be friendly.
Having few friends, Margim spent much of his time walking alone. He would cover great distances, and sometimes return with a bit of slightly-more-exotic-than-usual meat for his shop window, but most often he came and went empty-handed.
He was returning from one of these walks in the evening when he thought he heard singing in the distance off to one side of the road. His hulking form slowed to a halt, and he turned a scowling face toward the sound. It might be a bird, he thought, but I've never heard a bird like that. Having nothing better to do, he turned and began to make his way in more or less a straight line toward where he had heard the sound. After he had gone a short way the sound stopped, but Margim continued. A hundred feet or so further on he came out into a clearing.
Margim was not one given to fanciful notions, but here in this clearing he got the strangest feeling that he was being watched. Looking around at the darkening trees, he found himself suddenly staring into the eyes of his bird. Only it wasn't a bird, it was a girl, perched in a large oak, watching him intently with curious green eyes. More startling perhaps, this girl didn't seem to be afraid of him. Margim was fairly aware that his face and figure generally sent young children scurrying for their mother's skirts, and he imagined that in the growing darkness any normal person would be a little wary upon encountering him. Maybe it was just the fact that she was up a tree and he was not that allowed her this seeming bravery… but maybe it was something else. Perhaps she was a faerie of some sort, or something else entirely, disguised as a girl. Who knows what walked the woods in these parts that he may never have heard of?
The two stared at one another for some time, as the last light faded and the stars came out.
"Hello," said the girl.
"Hello," said Margim.
There was a pause.
"Ah… are you… human?" asked Margim.
"Almost. Are you?" asked the girl.
Margim shifted his weight a little self-consciously. "Almost."
"Good! We're the same, then." The girl swung off the branch she was sitting on, coming to face Margim again, upside-down. "We could be friends."
Margim started as her hair shifted to reveal delicately pointed ears. "I don't think so." He said quickly, and started to back away.
"Carver!"
He stopped, looking back, puzzled.
"I've seen your shop." Explained the elf-girl. "Don't you want to walk back to the city with me? It's gotten quite dark." She dropped from the tree and strode up beside Margim in a matter-of-fact kind of way.
Margim grunted. They turned and began to walk back toward the road. And so began the friendship… and later courtship… of Margim and Lome.
