[hider=My Hider] [img]http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/253/1/a/gladiator_by_rainerpetterart-d6l88iy.jpg[/img] [/hider] Name: Dayle Shayne Race: Human Alignment: Lawful Neutral Biography: Dayle grew up the son of two, poverty stricken serfs, in the great Frontier, where Orcs and other vile creatures roam the land. Dayle went many a day without food in those early years, struggling to survive: drought had hit the area in which he lived and his parents did not have the connections required to get extra meals on the family’s table. But Dayle has little memories of the place, for tragedy struck when he was yet a child. According to his father, when Dayle’s baby brother turned 5, an Orc warband assaulted the town. The details, he keeps to himself, but it was then that the family moved away…and that his second brother came to be. A half-orc for brother was never something he had envisioned possible when he was younger, but it was a reality. And no sooner had he been born, that his mother died during the birthing process, leaving only the father to watch over his now 4 children; Dayle’s older sister, Dayle himself, his younger brother and…the newborn bastard. Details are often flown over here, Dayle preferring the grandiose, but the family moved with the refugee caravans, eventually arriving in the city of Horween. Now, the time skip seems frivolous, but years passed between these two events. Dayle was now 12, where he had been 7 during the last events. In any case, it is there, in the city of Horween, that Dayle finally got out of poverty, and left his first mark on the world. As his father could not look after them and get enough money to feed them all, he was forced to make Dayle find employment. Well, the search did not last long: Horween’s less…ethically concerned entrepreneurs took this golden opportunity to replenish their ranks of gladiators and pit-fighters. It is there that Dayle found the true beginnings to his tale, the turning point in this dark story. But a tale such as this need not be recounted on paper. No, a true legend such as this deserves to be told, in the most sacred of forms: orally. And Dayle sure fancies himself a storyteller. Favorite drink: You’d think blood red wine would be to his taste considering he’s a bloodthirsty gladiator, but he much prefers water to stay in top shape. Of course, a man such as himself cannot let that be known, and he usually drinks the strongest thing on the menu. It’s all