Fred Durst

Fred Durst

Background: Entertainer
Instrumentalist, Singer, Poet

Personality Trait:
I love a good insult, even one directed at me.

Ideal: Creativity.

Bond: Someone stole my precious instrument, and someday I'll get it back.

Flaw: I once satirized a noble who still wants my head. It was a mistake I will likely repeat.


"It's not my fault this world is full of ignorant cretins."

	Fred Durst is an asshole. He's smart. He can be incredibly charismatic. His goals are lofty, and his motivations loftier. But a lot of people still think he is an asshole, and honestly, he deserves it. A half-elf raised among elves, Fred spent much of his childhood somewhat ostracized by his peers. However, where most would develop inferiority complexes and ditch their self-worth by the side of the road, Fred leaned in a different direction. He figured he deserved to be in a class all his own, because he was better than the chumps who refused to talk to him. Fred realized they were doing him a service. Their words were simple, powerless, and wasteful. They used speech the same way they used paper: just a way of relaying information. They didn't realize that words held so much more than information. They had power. Power like Selune's. Good power.

Fred Durst and the Moon God, or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Cure Wounds
	Well, when you grow up spending a lot of time on your own, the time that you would spend socializing is instead left open for two things. The first? Studies. Fred studied music, because that seemed like it might be a good idea at the time. The second? Writing. Fred wrote poetry. He wrote songs, stories, and even a play once. (It was never performed. Be thankful.) However, another side effect of being a loner with a superiority complex is that you tend to be... well, incredibly edgy. Obnoxiously so. Fred would stay up late and write awful, edgy poetry while staring at the moon, every night. One day, the moon stared back. What exactly Selune told Fred that night we may never know, but it must've amounted to something like "get your shit in gear", because he did. Fred grabbed his guitar, some gold, some paper, and a few pens, and set out. He would wander the world, serving Selune's interests- and his own.

"Listen here you fat oaf, I'm not a fucking wizard."
	Let me tell you a joke. How does a spoonless bard with a personality so edgy it could cut cucumbers make money?
	He does comedy.
	Fred spent his time in inns, taverns, and street corners all over the world. From the medieval equivalent of "roast me, bruh" to cutting satire of political officials, Fred told jokes. Very, very insulting jokes that often netted him black eyes. But he didn't stop there. He composed songs, ditties of folly that further pissed off anyone unlucky enough to face his ire. Fred Durst believed there were a few things wrong with the world: in no particular order, ignorance, unoriginality, and oversensitivity. Fred dreams of a world where people are original enough to make jokes, smart enough to understand them, and thick-skinned enough to be able to take them. Of course, his idea of a "joke" might just sound like crude insults to the untrained ear, but he would assure you, that's because you fall into the "ignorant" category. Just like Lord Qelxan. He kept insisting that "Wizard" is a catch-all term for magic users, and thus that Fred, as a bard, was a wizard. Fred didn't like that.
	Three weeks later, Fred was halfway across the continent, covered in bruises, cuts, and tomato juice.