Action Economy
Always: Keep at least 1 Panache.
Immediate Action: Dodging Panache (5 ft, +3 AC).
+ Still Hit: Opportune Parry/Riposte (at +1).
Swift Action: Menacing Swordplay (Intimidate, demoralize).
Move Action: Get in range, especially to flank.
Get out of range when being flanked.
Acrobatics to avoid AoO if necessary.
Standard Action: Precise Strike (+4 Damage), Power Attack (-2/+4).
Sheet: https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=1732125

Randal (Rand) Dundragon is 30 years old, tall and slender, with tawny skin, brown hair, and green eyes. From months spent in torture, he has dozens of scars up and down his forearms, and one hand that was crippled never healed right; it still bothers him, and he clenches it when he needs motivation, or when reminded of his torture. His family consists of a wife (25), Rowan, and daughter (7) Jhessail. The lived together in a small residence granted to the Northwall house guards, in the capital city of Suzail.

Rand was a guard to a Cormyrian noble before the usurpation by Cardinal Northrend. His liege, Earl Eddard "The Dire Wolf" Northwall, given little choice due to his residence and holdings in the capital, was forced to either risk certain death for his entire house, or bow the knee to Northrend. So convincing was his cession to the new “god” that his guard bought every word of feigned loyalty to the Northrend. His whole guard was screened for recruits to the Red Guard. Deceived by his loyalty to Earl Northwall, and by the charisma of the Cardinal, many including Rand joined the new recruits, burning with zealots fervor for their new king.

On one of his first big assignments, Rand was assigned to a scouting party, sent towards Eastward to gather intel. Little did he know that Va’lyn and her network of spies had known of the scouts all along. The inexperienced recruits walked right into their trap. Many were slaughtered in the ambush, the rest captured. Rand was not interested at first in betraying his god, nor endangering his family, but the extensive torture eventually broke him. Not only did it break him, it also freed him from his delusions of Northrend. The Cardinal’s spell broken, Rand gave up whatever information he had in exchange for freedom and a chance to save his family, kill Northwall for practically selling his soul to the devil, and exact revenge on the Drow for the months of torture he endured. His greatest fear is that, even if he manages to get his family out of Cormyr in time, that they will resent him or be saturated with the Cardinal’s deception, as he was.

Once freed, he tried to find somewhere to lay low in Fort Eastward, until he could figure out a way to return to Cormyr for his family. One Dwarven blacksmith by the name of Morgrim Forgehammer had a posting outside his shop for a job, just an extra hand to keep the storefront tidy and the shop organized. Morgrim didn’t ask many questions when Rand asked about the position; he preferred to judge a man by his work. He would constantly berate Rand for being slow, and not paying enough attention, but he was actually a decent worker; it was just an old Dwarf’s way of testing the man’s fortitude. Rand never complained. He was glad to have something to do while he bided his time. Although never once giving Rand a compliment, Morgrim one day asked him to help at the forge and anvil—he had noticed the man more than knew his way around a sword, so he thought he would see what he was worth as an apprentice. There was nothing formal about it at all; the Dwarf just slowly transitioned Rand from broom to hammer.

For Morgrim, smithing was never just smithing; it was the test of a man, his mettle and metal. Every lesson at the forge was about melting down your soul, straining the dross of your mind, and tempering your spirit. Each day at the anvil was about beating your own mind and body into the right shape, and sharpening yourself for every occasion. One day, Morgrim asked Rand to close up shop by himself, and when he locked up to head up the ladder to his apartment above the shop, Morgrim stopped him, and invited him to his house for dinner. The Dwarf had long since lost his wife, and to what he would never say, but his son was excited to have Rand over finally. The boy, named Rogar, had occasionally popped his head in the shop, although he was a bit too young to be helping with much. Rand made an impression on the lad, and the boy had taken a liking to him. Morgrim at first discouraged it, but eventually he relented. Now Rand was like an uncle to him. Rand was a bit uncomfortable about the whole thing. He really saw a mentor in Morgrim, maybe even family, but he was only reminded of his own wife and daughter. It tore at him daily, and Morgrim could tell. Though the Dwarf never got a word out of Rand about his past, he could tell something ate at him, and that it was only a matter of time before his yearning would take him on a quest of his own.

Morgrim noticed Rand’s masterwork rapier, which he practiced with behind the shop in his downtime. The Dwarf had Rand help him craft an even better blade, but he pretended it was for some noble. He knew Rand was always testy about nobles, and he wanted to see if the man’s work ethic would change. It did not. And he never complained. Instead of sending Rand to deliver the blade, Morgrim gave him the sword, a token of friendship and a symbol of the many days of long, hard hours he had put into the shop. The Dwarf told him that, although he didn’t know what the quest was or where it would take Rand, he could tell it was important, and that’s all he needed to know. The sword should help along the way.

 It was actually a gift for him, thanks for many days of long, hard hours. A token of friendship, and parting gift for his quest.