in honour of his new flaxen haired wife Brunhilde.. Percival Fletcher named their first son..born on a moonvexed Friday eve..Tor..and so he became known about the county..after learning every detail of the family stock in trade..the young man grew into an audacious fellow ..surpassing even his father in craft..and learning more on his own account so that soon his wares were sought even from abroad..if a man can be defined by his friends we can define Tor Fletcher as being somehow careless and suspicious ..calculating and candid..his best friend Slickwit ..a heavy drinker..a dandy and a dilettante ..a heavy set small man Tor appears younger looking than he is possibly due to the fastidious grooming of the same feted flaxen locks his mother generously bestowed upon him.. quick to vent an always under the surface spleen or burst out into laughter he is mostly considered an engaging fellow..he is sometimes want to spout strange words in a made up foreign language which his local priest refers to as Gotholalia ..despite his best efforts to expunge certain bawdy ballads of his supposed trysts with ladies above his station he seems destined to fail and doesn’t seem to mind ..always keeps abreast of the latest verse ..an excellent swordsman having three times being called to account for his dalliances..none surviving his skill..all about his business he has numerous workshops where the finest arrowheads and bolts are crafted..some would even say..jewelled..his laminated bows are finished with exquisite detail..intricately engraved..a far superior range ..naturally anyone who was anyone wanted a Tor bow…