"Rowan Undergarden”—an elf-like name for a dwarf who some derisively call a fairy. Neither his persistent singing nor his care for light-loving plants has made him well-loved in the cavernous mines of the dwarves. After being caught cultivating a garden near the mine's surface entrance, he was ridiculed by fellow dwarves who called him an "incompetent surface-loving sissy." He was then beaten, leaving him with one permanently swollen eye and a wheeze whenever he laughs too hard or otherwise overexerts himself. His improvised harp was smashed and his garden hacked to pieces--and then urinated upon with glee--by his "fellow dwarves." Some "fellows" indeed! In D&D-terms Rowan is an ill-fit for a Dwarf (with lower than average Constitution for dwarves) and an even more unsuited Bard (with the large Duergar Dwarf Charisma penalty and his stubby fingers unsuited to the lyre and the harp), not to mention an unlikely candidate for a surface-savvy Druid (which he wants to be). His optimistic temperament (and good alignment) are another sticking point that made time with his fellow Duergar miserable. But a calling is a calling, and Rowan has consequently decided to forsake the mines and seek his fortune on the surface. He also needs to attain the crafting skills (or find a highly skilled woodworker) to fashion a custom made harp with the strings spaced widely enough to accommodate his stubby fingers. Rowan's poor showing with the other Gray Dwarves and his tolerance for exposure to sunlight raises questions about his parentage; having been raised communally though with little attentiveness (his parents being conspicuously missing and presumed dead) he feels no strong tie to any particular individual, and no fellowship overall with his nominal kindred in the underworld. His disposition is--like most dwarves--moody, but he is more cheerful than most and his singing, although unexpectedly low and craggy-toned--emerging as it does from the throat of a dwarf--is not unmelodious. His one good eye is keen, if offering little in the way of depth perception, so even if he does not exactly excel in missile weapons, he at least is not likely to impale a fellow adventurer with an arrow. Comfortable in solitude and unsure of his place on the surface, Rowan Undergarden may be shy at first, if not actually wary. For now, he most of all yearns just to wander and see what the surface world is like--an adventure in itself to a cavern dweller--though he ultimately wants to DO something to prove and develop himself, though he's not entirely sure what that might *mean* on the surface, yet. In a fight he's adequate with an axe or hammer, but wants to see if the slender curve of a wooden staff will accomodate to his squat frame--as much for a walking stick as for bludgeoning goblins. The lure of riches does not possess him as it does other dwarf-folk, but he does not see the need to avoid good fortune and financial reward outright if these come his way. A pipe, a garden, a well wrought harp with widely-spaced strings--these domestic comforts all appeal to him as an end, but he is willing to join a company, sing an encouraging fighting song, and even stick his squat neck out in a battle if that's what it will take to make his mark in the overworld first.