So maybe one day we'll have a gentlemen's pixel war, but is clear the coming onslaught is no place for a man of fashion such as Count Valentine de Wallington the Fourth.
Instead consider
Durgo the Moon
Durgo was born into a tribe of grassland nomads whose lands were rapidly turning to desert. As famine came, so came war. Tribes and families rushed to betray each other in the scramble for control of the diminishing resources.
Durgo and his band of fighters managed to seize control of water sources for his people and, through superior skill and tactics, held them against the attacks of bandits, warlords and rival tribes. They held on long enough for the chaos to die down and the hard new way of life to begin.
Durgo left his people, having molded them into desert warriors, to fend for themselves and began his own quest.
He carries the bleached, fossilized femur from an ancient beast that Durgo dug out of the sand in the deep desert. It is light and hard, and has been with Durgo long enough for it to feel like an extension of his arm.
At his belt is a pear-shaped stone handaxe, chiseled by Durgo to fit his hand perfectly. It is light enough that he can throw it with some accuracy too.
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