Human Brawler Fighter
All of the comforts of home and wealth couldn’t keep Barnes tethered to a life of responsibility and supervision. Born into fortune, he was well educated, well built, well groomed, and far more likely to be found shooting dice and swapping lies with the cooks, smiths, and housecarls than “giving two damns about governing some elf-infested barony.”
After forsaking his future peerage, Barnes rode his father’s best horse away from the country of his birth and into a decade of lawlessness and revelry. He shortly thereafter lost his horse, but never his spirit of carousal, and fell in with a band of mercenaries after a brief period of aimless wandering. It was there he met his closest ally, the gregarious halfling Uldamar, and after a degree of notoriety and success, the two struck out on their own, inadvertenty consigning their former outlaw compatriots to a grisly fate.
Barnes is direct and blunt, frequently offputtingly-so, having long ago banished pretense and inauthentic behavior from his life. Above all else, he is genuine, every bit as likely to bully a stuffed shirt as befriend a layperson and every bit as likely to eschew excess and finery as maintain a large collection of trophy items. Whether friend or foe, however, sailing under false colors is a misstep in front of Barnes, who is not above suffering ignomony in the name of candor.
Barnes spent a number of months as a captive to a band of Cyclopes alongside several other sellswords, vagrants, and mercenaries. Barnes’ weapon, a heavy, barbed, oversized gauntlet of indeterminate metal makeup, is actually armorwork of ancient cyclopean origin. It’s nearly indestructible, but the weight of it and effort required for a normal human to manipulate the fingers means Barnes wields it more like a bludgeoning device than as a piece of equipment. It was looted by another escapee before being subsequently won by Barnes in a game of chance.
Barnes has a longstanding disdain for elves of all breeds, considering them self-important and entitled. Elves aside, Barnes is generally accepting of all manner of sentient creatures— they all stand equal chance of meeting his criteria for respect or indignation. He is especially trusting of halflings and gnomes, who, in his experience, have always treated him as a friend.