The Ghosts of Perdition
Native hillfolk scout.
Weathered, leather skinned. Red and blotchy. Deep dark brown eyes. Cracked lips and yellowed teeth. Hair is thinning but kept in a tight ponytail under his brimmed derby.
Bulwork Blackcave is no exceptional man. He’s not even a smart man, hell – he’s not much of any kind of man. Bulwork is, for a lack of a better phrasing – Bulwork; a stubborn mule who done co-mingled too long with a jackass. But if there is one thing he knows – it’s the wilds.
Born a native to hill folk outside the borders of Perdition, Bulwork “The Bullhorn” Blackcave learned his trade from his old man. His father was a highly respected leatherworker who was known for his fine quality furs and tans inside and outside of Bulwork’s home village. While his father made an honest living, Bullhorn preferred the company of their farm animals than any thing else. Often skipping his lessons to play the horses and pups.
Ya see, them Blackcaves always had a gift with animals. Some say that wolf’s blood runs in the Blackcave veins. I hear tell it that Bulwork once wrestled a bear with his barehands, only to be seen riding the god damned thing back into the village!
A natural born scout, ol’ “Bully” is no stranger to surviving in the wilderness with the barest of essentials and finding his way around a trap or two. Bulwork, the keen scout,with the eyes of an eagle, strength of a bore, and the brains of a ox.