Standing 2 feet, 11 inches, Muninn is the runt of the proverbial litter. Charismatic, hardy, and self-reliant are the three main ways to describe Muninn. That is assuming you don’t also use the word creepy. Stark white hair, pale skin, eyes that nobody seems to remember the color as much as the shiver they feel after looking into them. He wears old studded armor and carries a boar hunting spear.
Small for a halfling, Muninn has always been disliked. Not for his charm or his abilities. He is rather friendly, helpful, and, above all, he has useful magical abilities. The problem isn’t him. It’s what happens when he is around. His mother died in childbirth. His father became a drunk, and when Muniin was 3, his father slipped while drunk and hit his head hard. The last thing he said was he couldn’t keep away the ghosts.
The small town thought his father crazy, but it eventually became rumored that there might be more to the story. The son was haunted by some evil ghosts. Wherever he went, eventually bad things happened. His looks did not help much, for his hair was almost unnaturally white, he was pale, and his eyes seemed to hint at the secrets of the stars. As the stories of his luck and those around him became more and more frequently, the townsfolk became more and more spiteful. Muninn was eventually run out of town at the age of 6.
His story is much the same at every town he visited, and the only comfort came from the the stars. He learned to take care of himself, and his abilities were just fine for that. He always knew his location at night. He could make food safe to eat. Heal his wound. Eventually he even made some friends among those who stayed in the outskirts of society, even as he wished he could take part in the world as a participant, not a spectator.
Muninn went against the advice of his few friends and decided to make his way to the savage lands. If there was one place he might overcome the shadows of his life, perhaps it might be where he could shine the brightest.
