Pádraigín O'Doylei

It’s a sad tale. The first time he fought in armed combat, Pádraigín wet himself. It’s common for first timers, he heard, but he was so embarrassed he never returned to that town again except to pack his things and move on. On to the next town, and the next, and the next, and surely the last one—but no. He had the physicality of a fighter, but not the courage. While his fighting didn’t improve he did get rather good at using his nimbleness to scoop up better equipment for himself. Halfling-sized magic armour was hard to come by, but when he finally saw it, there wasn’t a lineup for it. Now very protected, he wets himself considerably less, but still needs to change towns now and again when the “Pee Pee Pádraigín” chants start up again, inevitably.