The Smith[spoiler]
A warforged. What more needs to be said? He was built for battle, with full armour plating and the ability to take incredible amounts of punishment. The Smith was called something else in those days. A letter and a number, mainly. "Hey, you!" at other times, or simply "Golem". With the ending of the great wars, and the release of the warforged from their bondage, the Smith has moved on from destruction to construction. But ironically, his knowledge only allowed him to create implements of war.
To this day, he wanders the world, making and selling his wares which are still in great demand. The kings and nobles might have proclaimed publicly their wars are over, but the people knew better. The war continues. In the shadows, on the borders, in raids without end.
He takes pride in his work. It is productive, useful and tangible. Having no need to sleep, not subject to fatigue and exhaustion that plague mortals, and caring about the passage of time (which does not affect his immortal body), the Smith can craft items of incredible detail and workmanship. The longbow strapped to his back is testament to his skill, an item that has taken him years to complete.
His wanderings have taken him to the little town of Nundinae, a town in the middle of several trade routes, perhaps a town where he can hang up his boots and settle down to a peaceful life of making things, and certainly a town small enough where he might be judged on his merits without too many fingers and mouths wagging and making things uncomfortable. The local tavern would be the best place to spend the night, not to drink, for he did not need it nor has the patience for the stupidity that such indulgences invariably create, but to observe the locals and see what sort of people they are.
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Colour is
navy (damn you, DM; I was going to take purple, since the guy IS purple (or his body is because of the adamantine).
