<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f4/LittleJohn12.jpeg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><strong>Hammond "Hamm" Barksdale</strong></span><br/><strong>HP:</strong>11<strong>AC:</strong>13<strong>Passive Senses:</strong>Perception +3<br/><strong>Status:</strong>Normal<br/>Character Sheet (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheetview.php?sheetid=626559)<br/><hr/>Hamm inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma of the yeasty bread. Even for a boy who had seldom traveled more than five miles from the family farm, this "adventure" had been an easy trek. Perhaps it was the calm before the storm, but for now it was an enjoyable one. Fair weather, interesting companions, and a good country walk to build up an appetite each evening. And now this must be Oleg's, the edge of civilization and the end of their creature comforts for a while. No matter. There was plenty of fresh air and clean water on the other side of the impressive fort, and food could be found anywhere if you were hungry enough and knew where to look. Things were starting off well indeed. Hamm kissed the wooden brooch that held his heavy cloak around his neck and whispered a prayer to Erastil. The cloak was too heavy for the weather, more suitable for rougher days ahead. A gift from his mother on his departure.<br/><br/>"Hail, Oleg. I'm Hamm." He passed his staff to his left hand in order to accept the man's handshake. "And that bread smells fantastic. Just the two of you here?"<br/><br/><hr/><strong>OOC:</strong>