Post by pugmaster on Jul 31, 2015 6:27:16 GMT
Name:
Gareth Rainair
Age:
26
Nationality:
Rhodock(ian)
Hair:
Blonde
Eyes:
Blue
Facial Markings: None
Skin Color:
White
Height:
5'9"
Weight:
190
Build:
Muscular
Body Markings:
Various scars
Interests:
A good fight, women, and mead!
Dislikes:
Cowards, Vaegirs, and an empty coin purse!
Strengths:
Very strong melee combat, good with mounted units
Weaknesses:
Very poor range combat
Skills:
Can drink the strongest mead without getting a heavy head!
Fears:
Drowning, burning, and falling.
Profession: Hired Blade
Backround/History: I've handled a blade since I was a boy. It was my Father who taught me. He worked as a craftsman, even made me the wooden sword I practiced with. My Mother didn't like it, said I would hurt someone, but my father insisted that every "noble in training" should know how to fight. It was only a jest, but at the time it made me feel good. Now my father wasn't good with a blade by any means, he was a craftsman for God's sake! But, he did teach me how to swing a sword, and stay upright. Even humored me when I "beat" him. I was always the, "Noble Knight" and he was the, "Dirty Bandit" and I would save the, "Princess" who was my Mother. I didn't much "save" her as she would call us in for supper. Although, life isn't as kind as I was told.
I was 16 at the time. Realized I would never be some, "Noble Prince" and had settled with reality. I had taken up as an apprentice for my Father. I learned the trade, but also taught myself to use a blade. Now, my technique wasn't perfect by any standards, but I felt it was good. One day, my Father came to me, he said there was a caravan coming through here to pick up a large order of wheels and handles to deliver to the nearby city of Veluca. Of course I jumped at the experience! I had never been outside of town! It was around noon the next day that 3 horses with large carts arrived, accompanied by guards and one large carriage. Out of the carriage stepped the Caravan Master, who after speaking with my Father, ordered his men to load our goods into one of the horse carts. I wasn't actually supposed to go with the caravan, but my father slipped the Caravan Master some coin to let me go as a, "supplies manager." I sat on the back of the cart with out supplies in it, making sure that they arrived in good condition (which they would have if I had been there or not). It was near dusk by the time we arrived at Veluca, just in time before they locked the gates. The Caravan Master paid for my room, along with all his men and we saw to the tavern whilst he sold the wheels and handles to his Buyer. Inside, I figured I'd eat before I sleep. I had some coins in my purse, so I bought a leg of mutton and an ale. It was while I sat eating that this large man approached me,
"Think that's a drink lad?" he said pointing to my ale.
"It moistens my mouth, does it not?" I replied. He laughed loudly, and slammed a pouch of coin on the table.
"How about you drink something for MEN, boy, and you can keep the coin!" he shouted, purposely making a scene. Others stopped and now looked our way. Now I've had liquor before, Hell! I was drinking it then! Besides, I couldn't turn down a challenge in front of all, especially a drinking one!
"Aye, I'll drink!" I said loudly for all to hear.
"Wait there smooth face!" said the man, "If I win, I get your coin!" I nodded, having already accepted and gotten the whole tavern focused on us, I defiantly couldn't turn the challenge down now!
"So it be!" said I.
"Wench! Bring us your strongest drink!" he said. The Tavernkeep brought over two mugs of, something, forgive me if my memory if a little hazy. You'll see why in a moment. "Drink!" he shouted. We both grabbed our mugs and drank them empty. It hit hard at first, my vision almost instantly blurred. "Wench! Another!" he shouted again.
"Looks like the lad is having trouble holding his liquor!" I heard someone shout.
"Now! Drink a second!" he hollered. We both downed our drinks then we, um, we had another one. Yes! Another! She brought us another drink. We both grabbed our mugs. "Drenk!" he yelled. We downed our drinks and I won! I remember the man slumping over and I grabbed the purse holding it in the air victorious! Everyone cheered! Then uh, well. It was dark. I remember waking up on the floor, my winnings gone, but mine lucky still there. I moved through the streets, head throbbing until I found the Caravan Master. He said that since I finally decided to show up we could be on our way. As we rode back to my village I tried to keep the sun out of my eyes. It hurt, worst hangover I've ever had. As time passed, and we grew closer to my village, the sky seemed to darken. It wasn't a natural darkness, it was black, as if there was a fire. As we got closer, you could smell the flames. The caravan halted and I lept out of the wagon to see the origin of the smoke.
It was my village. It had been razed. There where many men around the flames, gathering riches, killing my fellow kin, slaughtering animals! The Caravan's Guards rode forward to disperse the bandits and I ran with them. The bandits dispersed when they saw the cavalry, some of them where run down but most got away. I-I'm sorry. But, do you know despair? Knowing in your heart that there is nothing left but fighting it? Knowing that all is lost but you decide to lie to yourself? There where bodies scattered around town, nearly every building burned. I check the bodies. I saw what I couldn't deny. My parents. My Mother slumped over my Father. Slaughtered like animals. I know no rage like what I felt then. The bastards destroyed all I knew. I had nothing. It was all taken by them.
Years passed, and at the age of 18 I was able to join the army. They taught me proper sword use, and made me a killer. The military wasn't for me though. It was more politics than I cared for. Found myself patrolling around in the wilderness than hunting bandits like I believed we where going to. I left the army, wanted to go on my OWN terms, rather than that of some fat noble. I left the army at the age of 20 after 2 years of accomplishing nothing. But I found others, others like me, who for one reason or another wanted to set out on their own accord. One, I believe, was looking for a man who laid with his, use-to-be wife. The other was just out for adventure. I never told them my story. I do NOT need sympathy for my past. I simply said that I wanted adventure as well. Non of use had much gold though. We did find a guild though, the, "Blackblood Mercenary Company." I was lucky enough to get in. They seemed to be picky with their recruits, but given I had military experience I got in. The others where told to leave. I was not missing this opportunity.
As time passed, our guild had fought all kinds of enemies. We could handle anything, or anyone, and our purses where never empty! Now don't get me wrong, being a Mercenary isn't a noble profession at the least. We often find ourselves fighting on both sides, defending a people one day, then attacking them a month later. But, we got to do what I wanted, we hunted Bandits. I didn't know who attacked my village all those years ago, but I imagined that every Lowlife I plunged my blade into was one at the my village. I learned to live with my grief. Grief is something that never goes away, it's something you learn to live with. It was hard to make friends outside of the guild. I stopped making friends. All I cared for where my brothers, and well, the ladies at the taverns of course, least for the night being.
It all came to a life-shocking halt one day though. After climbing so far from my past, I felt untouchable. We where told that bandits had been ravaging a local town recently. They came to us, asking for protection, but then we took it a step further. We offered to hunt the bandits, they offered twice as much. It was within the day we set out. Tracked the scoundrels into a mountain pass. We crossed the border, so we were no longer familiar with the lands we passed over. I thought something was off but assumed it was just the feeling of being somewhere new. I should have known. Should have known I was wrong.
We camped in, from what I could tell, was the middle of the pass. It seemed equal distance on both sides to flat land. Our camp fires crackled as we lied sleeping. You get use to sleeping on the ground when you live a life such as mine. That is when my unsettling feeling became a reality. We where expecting bandit rabble, not an army! During the night horses hooves crashed down from both sides of the pass. They trampled and impaled us where we laid. Some of us were able to get to our feet, I even killed a couple of the bastards! But they where many, we where few, and it was dark. Horse hooves and screams of the dead echoed throughout the pass. As I fought, through the dim and scattered light of our camp fires I saw a gleaming blade come my way. I blocked the blow but it pushed me onto another horseman. My shield (which was on my back at the time) got lodged into the horseman's stirrup. The saddle shifted towards me throwing the man off, but the horse kept running into the dark with me attached. My shield finally came loose and I fell, hitting my head hard. I awoke. Somewhere in this new land. I only know what I've done most of my life. I don't know if any of my Brothers survived. I hope they did. I should find a town. I'm hurt, but will make it. My brothers are strong. I know they made it too. The hellish screams where only that of the enemy. Least that's what I tell myself. The feeling of despair returned.
Equipment: My Character currently has Full Plate, Plate Boots, Plate Gauntlets, Full Helm, Knightly Sword, Great Lance, and a Heavy Heater Shield
Gareth Rainair
Age:
26
Nationality:
Rhodock(ian)
Hair:
Blonde
Eyes:
Blue
Facial Markings: None
Skin Color:
White
Height:
5'9"
Weight:
190
Build:
Muscular
Body Markings:
Various scars
Interests:
A good fight, women, and mead!
Dislikes:
Cowards, Vaegirs, and an empty coin purse!
Strengths:
Very strong melee combat, good with mounted units
Weaknesses:
Very poor range combat
Skills:
Can drink the strongest mead without getting a heavy head!
Fears:
Drowning, burning, and falling.
Profession: Hired Blade
Backround/History: I've handled a blade since I was a boy. It was my Father who taught me. He worked as a craftsman, even made me the wooden sword I practiced with. My Mother didn't like it, said I would hurt someone, but my father insisted that every "noble in training" should know how to fight. It was only a jest, but at the time it made me feel good. Now my father wasn't good with a blade by any means, he was a craftsman for God's sake! But, he did teach me how to swing a sword, and stay upright. Even humored me when I "beat" him. I was always the, "Noble Knight" and he was the, "Dirty Bandit" and I would save the, "Princess" who was my Mother. I didn't much "save" her as she would call us in for supper. Although, life isn't as kind as I was told.
I was 16 at the time. Realized I would never be some, "Noble Prince" and had settled with reality. I had taken up as an apprentice for my Father. I learned the trade, but also taught myself to use a blade. Now, my technique wasn't perfect by any standards, but I felt it was good. One day, my Father came to me, he said there was a caravan coming through here to pick up a large order of wheels and handles to deliver to the nearby city of Veluca. Of course I jumped at the experience! I had never been outside of town! It was around noon the next day that 3 horses with large carts arrived, accompanied by guards and one large carriage. Out of the carriage stepped the Caravan Master, who after speaking with my Father, ordered his men to load our goods into one of the horse carts. I wasn't actually supposed to go with the caravan, but my father slipped the Caravan Master some coin to let me go as a, "supplies manager." I sat on the back of the cart with out supplies in it, making sure that they arrived in good condition (which they would have if I had been there or not). It was near dusk by the time we arrived at Veluca, just in time before they locked the gates. The Caravan Master paid for my room, along with all his men and we saw to the tavern whilst he sold the wheels and handles to his Buyer. Inside, I figured I'd eat before I sleep. I had some coins in my purse, so I bought a leg of mutton and an ale. It was while I sat eating that this large man approached me,
"Think that's a drink lad?" he said pointing to my ale.
"It moistens my mouth, does it not?" I replied. He laughed loudly, and slammed a pouch of coin on the table.
"How about you drink something for MEN, boy, and you can keep the coin!" he shouted, purposely making a scene. Others stopped and now looked our way. Now I've had liquor before, Hell! I was drinking it then! Besides, I couldn't turn down a challenge in front of all, especially a drinking one!
"Aye, I'll drink!" I said loudly for all to hear.
"Wait there smooth face!" said the man, "If I win, I get your coin!" I nodded, having already accepted and gotten the whole tavern focused on us, I defiantly couldn't turn the challenge down now!
"So it be!" said I.
"Wench! Bring us your strongest drink!" he said. The Tavernkeep brought over two mugs of, something, forgive me if my memory if a little hazy. You'll see why in a moment. "Drink!" he shouted. We both grabbed our mugs and drank them empty. It hit hard at first, my vision almost instantly blurred. "Wench! Another!" he shouted again.
"Looks like the lad is having trouble holding his liquor!" I heard someone shout.
"Now! Drink a second!" he hollered. We both downed our drinks then we, um, we had another one. Yes! Another! She brought us another drink. We both grabbed our mugs. "Drenk!" he yelled. We downed our drinks and I won! I remember the man slumping over and I grabbed the purse holding it in the air victorious! Everyone cheered! Then uh, well. It was dark. I remember waking up on the floor, my winnings gone, but mine lucky still there. I moved through the streets, head throbbing until I found the Caravan Master. He said that since I finally decided to show up we could be on our way. As we rode back to my village I tried to keep the sun out of my eyes. It hurt, worst hangover I've ever had. As time passed, and we grew closer to my village, the sky seemed to darken. It wasn't a natural darkness, it was black, as if there was a fire. As we got closer, you could smell the flames. The caravan halted and I lept out of the wagon to see the origin of the smoke.
It was my village. It had been razed. There where many men around the flames, gathering riches, killing my fellow kin, slaughtering animals! The Caravan's Guards rode forward to disperse the bandits and I ran with them. The bandits dispersed when they saw the cavalry, some of them where run down but most got away. I-I'm sorry. But, do you know despair? Knowing in your heart that there is nothing left but fighting it? Knowing that all is lost but you decide to lie to yourself? There where bodies scattered around town, nearly every building burned. I check the bodies. I saw what I couldn't deny. My parents. My Mother slumped over my Father. Slaughtered like animals. I know no rage like what I felt then. The bastards destroyed all I knew. I had nothing. It was all taken by them.
Years passed, and at the age of 18 I was able to join the army. They taught me proper sword use, and made me a killer. The military wasn't for me though. It was more politics than I cared for. Found myself patrolling around in the wilderness than hunting bandits like I believed we where going to. I left the army, wanted to go on my OWN terms, rather than that of some fat noble. I left the army at the age of 20 after 2 years of accomplishing nothing. But I found others, others like me, who for one reason or another wanted to set out on their own accord. One, I believe, was looking for a man who laid with his, use-to-be wife. The other was just out for adventure. I never told them my story. I do NOT need sympathy for my past. I simply said that I wanted adventure as well. Non of use had much gold though. We did find a guild though, the, "Blackblood Mercenary Company." I was lucky enough to get in. They seemed to be picky with their recruits, but given I had military experience I got in. The others where told to leave. I was not missing this opportunity.
As time passed, our guild had fought all kinds of enemies. We could handle anything, or anyone, and our purses where never empty! Now don't get me wrong, being a Mercenary isn't a noble profession at the least. We often find ourselves fighting on both sides, defending a people one day, then attacking them a month later. But, we got to do what I wanted, we hunted Bandits. I didn't know who attacked my village all those years ago, but I imagined that every Lowlife I plunged my blade into was one at the my village. I learned to live with my grief. Grief is something that never goes away, it's something you learn to live with. It was hard to make friends outside of the guild. I stopped making friends. All I cared for where my brothers, and well, the ladies at the taverns of course, least for the night being.
It all came to a life-shocking halt one day though. After climbing so far from my past, I felt untouchable. We where told that bandits had been ravaging a local town recently. They came to us, asking for protection, but then we took it a step further. We offered to hunt the bandits, they offered twice as much. It was within the day we set out. Tracked the scoundrels into a mountain pass. We crossed the border, so we were no longer familiar with the lands we passed over. I thought something was off but assumed it was just the feeling of being somewhere new. I should have known. Should have known I was wrong.
We camped in, from what I could tell, was the middle of the pass. It seemed equal distance on both sides to flat land. Our camp fires crackled as we lied sleeping. You get use to sleeping on the ground when you live a life such as mine. That is when my unsettling feeling became a reality. We where expecting bandit rabble, not an army! During the night horses hooves crashed down from both sides of the pass. They trampled and impaled us where we laid. Some of us were able to get to our feet, I even killed a couple of the bastards! But they where many, we where few, and it was dark. Horse hooves and screams of the dead echoed throughout the pass. As I fought, through the dim and scattered light of our camp fires I saw a gleaming blade come my way. I blocked the blow but it pushed me onto another horseman. My shield (which was on my back at the time) got lodged into the horseman's stirrup. The saddle shifted towards me throwing the man off, but the horse kept running into the dark with me attached. My shield finally came loose and I fell, hitting my head hard. I awoke. Somewhere in this new land. I only know what I've done most of my life. I don't know if any of my Brothers survived. I hope they did. I should find a town. I'm hurt, but will make it. My brothers are strong. I know they made it too. The hellish screams where only that of the enemy. Least that's what I tell myself. The feeling of despair returned.
Equipment: My Character currently has Full Plate, Plate Boots, Plate Gauntlets, Full Helm, Knightly Sword, Great Lance, and a Heavy Heater Shield