Richard Dunsor

A wild-man with the ability to transform into a terrible beast.


Numbers in parenthesis are while transformed.

Druid (3) – Human – CN

Str: 16 (20)
Dex: 14
Con: 18
Int: 10
Wis: 12
Cha: 5
Apr: 12

AC: 13 (16)
HP: 36

Richard uses the Shapeshift alternative Druid class feature from Player’s Handbook 2.


Richard Dunsor was born late into the night during the tail end of the summer harvest. I know this because I, his sister, Annabelle, was told this by my father, Charles Dunsor. Our mother, for reasons of her own that none of us will ever fully understand, left that same night, never to return.
Richard is the youngest of four, and the only son. I don’t rightly know if this is why my father doted on him such, but while we were learning our letters and numbers, Richard was left to run through the fields without any sort of rules or supervision. From a young age he was able to survive in the wilds around our town, and let me tell you. The sight of your four year old baby brother sneaking up on a squirrel and catching it is amusing, until he starts eating it while it’s still alive. Less funny then.
Poor Richard has always been a wild child, and recently he’s become a wild man, despite our best attempts to introduce him to polite society. Despite this, he seems to have found his own society in which he thrives, one made from misfits, adventurer’s children, and bastards. Bless their hearts, but not all of them are right in the head or sound of body.
He’s one of the few people in the town blessed with magical powers, although how he actually chooses to use them seems arbitrary and nonsensical. He could do a lot of good in this world, but I just don’t know if he knows that, and if he did, I don’t know if he would care.
As to why I am writing these memories instead of him, well, it’s a shame of the Dunsor family, but Richard has never learned to read nor write, and despite our best attempts to teach him, seems to recoil from the written word. Despite this, he will sit by your chair and listen to a story all day, or anything really. I can remember once that as a prank I read him verbatim from the farmer’s almanac for two hours and he seemed to enjoy it just as much as when I read to him from his favorite story. Weird child, I love him, but weird.

Richard Dunsor

Some Have Greatness Thrust Upon Them maliklucius Gigathrash