Bacchus is a stout Hill Dwarf with skin the color of rich, tilled earth and a beard that flows like a river of copper silk. He wears humble, sun-bleached saffron robes that are fraying at the edges. Around his waist is a belt of braided rope, supporting a small clay keg. His feet are bare and calloused from decades of mountain climbing. Despite his muscular build, his movements are strangely light and graceful.

Je vois des présages dans chaque événement et action. Les dieux essaient de nous parler, nous avons juste besoin d'écouter. Je cite (ou paraphrase) des textes sacrés et des proverbes dans presque toutes les situations.

Bacchus was born in the deep crags of the northern mountains, but he never found peace in the metal-clanging halls of his kin. He spent most of his youth searching for a deeper rhythm, eventually finding it at the Aerie, a secluded monastery where monks studied the 'Way of the Golden Draught.' There, he learned that the flow of Ki is identical to the flow of water and grain. He became the monastery's master brewer, refining his soul alongside his hops. During a long winter of isolation, Bacchus experienced a spiritual awakening. He realized that the balance he cultivated in his mountain retreat was needed in the chaotic world below. He believed that the internal harmony of the 'Perfect Batch' could be extended to the lives of the downtrodden. He descended from the heights not with a sword, but with a philosophy of internal distillation and protective action. Now Bacchus travels as a wandering monk, seeking to heal the sour spirits of the land. He believes that every act of justice is a step toward a world that tastes of peace. While he misses the quiet of his fermentation cell, he has found that the flow of a punch can be just as meditative as the bubbling of a mash tun.