His
past is written in old scars of battles
won and lost. The
man spends his days
searching for something long
ago forgotten.
Intense grey eyes constantly glance about,
so
even as you converse with him it
would give you the
impression
-the seriously wrong impression-
that he wasn't
paying attention.
While nobles squabbled he took to the sword.
A young boy turned
by the fortunes of war into
a man, then a mercenary.
At
6'8" he makes a formidable opponent,
frighteningly quick
when there comes a need.
Earning his coin as a mercenary or
woodsman
brought him to the service of many Nobles,
though,
he's yet to find a place he cared to
stay for any length of
time.
Wearing a mixture of protection, strips of
chain mail,
banded and studded vestments along
with a heavy leather
tunic of some old military guard. The man bristles with an
assortment of
weapons from swords to daggers, a brace
of
throwing knives and hand axe.
The man has a good nature
when you get to
know him, yet, even then, when he smiles
there's something about him that leaves
you feeling
uneasy.
All
battles involves skill and luck,
pray the luck never runs
short.
The
art of being wise, is knowing what to overlook.
(Please keep it medieval and provide me with a
profile)