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Jock Fairbairn grew up in the Luinne Bheinn mountains. As most Reivers he was nurtured on the history of the Krolvin War of yore. As such, he acquired a deep hatred for the invaders. When young he helped his family in the fields and by looking after their mountain rolton flocks. He ended up with a great disliking of turnips and a fondness for homespun wool.

Later he spent time in the Luinne Bheinn Guard, joining the ever-vigilant defense against further Krolvin incursions. Later yet, he partook in many vicious raids against the Krolvin usurpers; building quite a name for himself even amongst the veterans of his village. His size and strength made wielding a claidhmore akin to twirling a long mustache - quite simple, yet with a surprisingly pleasing effect. Or so it was said.

The weight of time eventually made Jock decide to take over the Restless Reiver tavern from his uncle. When the first adventurers from Wehnimer's Landing penetrated the pass that hid the village of Luinne Bheinn, Jock was busy slinging drams of whisky in his tavern. Barberik, Tedra and others of that exploratory group were later seen throwing back a few drams of glowing amber liquid with Jock.

Jock was still working at his tavern per recent visitors. These same visitors warned that the chance of getting assaulted by drunken villagers seems to have increased of late and that Jock was not as vigilant as he had once been.


A large, muscular man in his middling years, Jock tends the bar with the expertise of one who has spent many years doing so. Which he has. With piercing green eyes and fists the size of a small rolton, he keeps his customers satisfied and, relatively, peaceful. The large mallet he always keeps near, probably doesn't hurt in the latter case.