Pff, ok well I typed a lot more then I expected but I'm happy with it. Also there's not doubt that there are plenty of grammar and spelling mistakes in this, I can always go back and edit if necessary. 

Name: Kytel Vialos 

Age: 28

Race: Caucasian

Class: Freeman

Occupation: Mercenary 

[hider=Appearance:][img=http://www.ciaranhinds.eu/images/brian.jpg][/hider]

Weapon(s): Kytel wields only one weapon, a longsword. It is made very plainly and with moderate craftsmanship overall it is obviously a unremarkable weapon. Even then the blade has proven to be very reliable, and of course more than capable of taking another’s life. Besides the sword holds great sentimental value to Kytel for his entire career he has used it, he would never willingly part with it. Make no mistake, however when caught in a desperate situation, which occurs more often than one may be comfortable with, Kytel has no problems grabbing whatever he can has for improvised arms. 

Armour: While Kytel could afford better and more armor, he prefers to wear only a chainmail shirt over his own cotton one. He would rather remain flexible and mobile in combat, for that reason protecting his vital organs, for the most part is enough. In terms of his normal clothing, Kytel wears a white cotton shirt, a pair of hemp pants, leather boots, and finally animal hide gloves that serve to offer a better grip rather than real protection. Across his back he wears a small leather backpack, large enough to store essentials in, but small enough not to encumber him in combat.

Inventory: 
Sleeping bag 
Small metal pot
Tinderbox
Knife (Not suitable for combat.)
Map of Southern Gaia

Place of birth: Weaver’s Landing, a small village, in all honestly just a hamlet, that is located deep in untapped wilderness in the eastern part of Southern Gaia. Being so isolated from the rest of the region, over half of the inhabitants work the land as farmers making the society mostly subsistence farming with little else in terms of industry. There are no lords or true nobility that govern over the village, on top of the fact that the founding of the village is forgotten means that Weaver’s Landing has no central leadership. Instead every few generations one family moves to claim foundership only to be overthrown by another one later on, causing an endless cycle of unrest. The current “founders” are headed by Nicolas Rotherham, who has a reputation of being a extremely corrupt man with a small guard of cutthroats and criminals. 

Brief History: As with almost everyone in Weaver’s Landing, Kytel was born into a family of farmers who owned their own land and farm. For the most part he lived a peaceful and stable life for the first sixteen years of his existence, that is until the Rotherhams took power. Almost immediately the village was thrown into turmoil, while it was common occurrence every time a new family takes control, the rise of the Rotherhams was particularly brutal. When the insurrection was finally complete, the first official act from Nicolas Rotherham himself was the drafting of any able bodied male into a pseudo-militia. The claim was “The need to put down local bandit populations to protect the people.” Kytel was counted among the conscripted, they were armored in nothing but the clothes they came with, and armed with farming tools that were far inferior for combat, some were even left to fight with rocks. 

The militia was forced marched about a mile from the village on the same day they were recruited when all, and then in the silence of night all hell broke loose. Before he could react Kytel was pushed down, someone was lying on top of him, turned out to be one of his comrade's now lifeless body, blood poured from his slit throat. Sheer terror enveloped Kytel, completely paralyzing him, however this saved his life. To anyone else he appeared dead, any attacker had ignored him because of that. Almost soon as it stated the fighting stopped, Kytel waited only hearing his own ragged breathing, one minute became two, then five, and then after half an hour Kytel finally willed himself to move. The sight was gruesome, a thick pool of blood covered the forest floor, arms, legs and other such parts were missing their owners. If he was not so emotionally and psychologically deadened, Kytel would have undoubtedly vomited at the sight. Instead all he could do was amble down the wooded, red path, his foot kicked something as a metallic clang rang out. 

Slowly his eyes casted downward, barely registering what he was looking at, resting in the dirt was a longsword. He seen this before, it once belonged to a hunter back home, always the hunter would show off the blade bragging about the beasts he slain with it, everyone knew it was all lies but still it was all in good fun, overall the hunter was a good man in truth. Kytel reached down to grab hold of the sword, it felt… right in his hands, like it was his destiny to wield this blade. As the sole survivor of this massacre, Kytel had no doubts that returning to home was not an option whoever the killers were knew where he was from. No, it was clear that his purpose from this point on was to wander across Gaia with a blade in tow. For over the last decade, Kytel found work as a mercenary, self-trained and more than willing to do anything for work. As Southern Gaia has known peace for a while, there is little work a mercenary to take on, but there is always something in the farther corners of the continent, more than enough to support Kytel. 

Sexuality: Straight 

Marital Status: Single 

Other: 
As comes with his profession and honestly as with his mental state, Kytel has a loose set of morals, however he will refuse to stoop to levels such as thievery or meaningless killing. (Killing for money, for example, is fine.)
 
Kytel shows great disrespect towards nobles given his history. Even then, however he is still willing to work with them, long as some pay is involved. 

Kytel prefers action above all else, while being one of his greatest strengths it can also be one of his greatest weaknesses, often times acting on instinct rather than careful thought.