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[b]Name:[/b] 
Haljon

[b]Age:[/b] 
34

[b]Appearance:[/b] 
[img]http://th02.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/f/2013/279/c/b/badass_by_88grzes-d6pgeuj.jpg[/img]

[b]Race:[/b] 
Human

[b]Allegiance:[/b]
Follower of Erthantis

[b]Class:[/b] 
Warrior

[b]Profession:[/b] 
Mercenary Knight

[b]Personality:[/b] 
Haljon is an affable, boisterous character whose mood is rarely darkened. However, he is always in state of pain and rage, and the face he puts on in public is mostly for show to hide this fact. Though he is rarely grim, and makes for a hearty companion otherwise, he is a terrifying man when his public persona is dropped. Haljon is brave and loyal to a fault, a rare thing to find in sellswords such as him. He lives for the thrill of combat, especially with whom he deems a worthy foe; which is a rare thing.

[b]Biography:[/b]
Haljon was born into an impoverished noble house with a small amount of land to it's name, his father a Knight of some renown and his mother of low-nobility. From a young age, Haljon had a keen interest in martial pursuits, and could often be found sparring in the courtyard or against other boys, including commoners (though this detail was much frowned upon by his mother). His father began teaching him swordplay at age seven, and while he mainly focused on these lessons, he also managed to learn to read and write, though his penmanship is horrid and his reading laughably slow. Haljon learned basic manners and some arithmetic, though he was never good at either. However, Haljon proved to have a keen eye for strategy and tactics, and he adored military history. 

Haljon was formerly taken into his father's tutelage at age fourteen. By this time Haljon was the size of a full-grown man, and his growth showed no signs of slowing. By sixteen he would be taller than his father, who was considered a fairly large man, and by eighteen he would reach his full height of nearly seven feet tall. Along with his enormous size came a tremendous strength, and he was often compared to an ox in that respect. Haljon also proved to be a more than competent swordsman, and one with a surprising amount of speed and agility. Coupled with both a weight and reach advantage, he proved to be quite the formidable foe after he was formally knighted in his twenty-first year. 

However, his father's liege-lord was apparently quite power hungry, and decided he was in a prime position to rebel against the Empire and forge a Kingdom of his own. As a vassal of this lord, his father was obligated to obey, and thus Haljon found himself marching to war against the forces of the Empire, much to his dismay. The war was, as could be expected, brutal and swift; the rebellion was crushed mercilessly in a single great battle, the rebellious lord slain on the field. His parents were executed for high treason, though Haljon was spared. Apparently he had acquitted himself quite well in the battle, and he was given the option of swearing fealty to a new lord. With little choice, Haljon accepted, swore an oath, and, in the dark of the night, absconded away to a nearby town. There he bought a horse and traveled to a far corner of the Empire, near it's very frontiers. 

He drank away his grief and sorrow in a tavern, selling his horse and most of his clothes and armor to support his new-found love of ale. The only thing he kept was his sword Limbcleaver, a gift from his father. At some point whilst he was drowning his misery in the cups, he was approached by a man who introduced himself as Rikard, the leader of a mercenary company of some renown. He offered Haljon a place in the company, which Haljon accepted with a significant lack of grace. Over the next several years he traveled, fought, bled, ate, shit, and sweated with the company. He learned new skills and made many friends, some of which he believed to be his companions for life. OVer time the company became more and more famous, and thus their services were required by wealthier and more powerful men. Their battles became harder, but they endured and became stronger from it. Until, however, a day came when they were simply far too outnumbered. Rikard had insisted that they could handle any foe, and thus they found themselves surrounded on one lonely hilltop by three times their number. The company fought long and hard, but their numbers slowly dwindled; and although they killed two for every one they lost, they fell one-by-one until not a single one of them was left standing. 

Haljon had slain a dozen or more of the enemy, and was only taken down after he was knocked over a shallow cliff ace onto several rocks below. He was presumed dead, but in reality alive, albeit gravely injured. He cursed the nine as he fled the aftermath, and once again turned to the cups to drown his sorrow in. Over time, a deep-seated hatred of the Immortal Nine took root in Haljon's soul, blaming them for the deaths of his parents and brothers-in-arms. He dreamed of the day he could take his vengeance, and that day seemed to come a few short weeks later in the form of a robed man. He spoke to Haljon of Erthantis and his followers and offered them a place in their ranks, and of course he accepted, recalling Rikard approaching him in the same manner, years ago...

[b]Weapon of Choice:[/b] 
Limbcleaver, his massive five-foot steel longsword. 

[b]Powers & Abilities:[/b] 
Haljon is an excellent tactician and soldier, but has little talent in anything else. He also knows how to ride a horse proficiently, and his tremendous strength coupled with his large height give him a significant advantage in any sword-fight, on top of his already impressive swordsmanship. Haljon knows enough magic to heal minor wounds, but his magical talent does not extend any farther than that. Though some may consider him dim, in reality he is a quick, logical thinker; though sometimes his choices may be clouded by emotion. He can read and write passingly and knows quite a bit about military history.

[b]Relationships:[/b]
-Father (deceased)
-Mother (deceased)
-Rikard (deceased)
-Other company members (deceased)

[b]Other:[/b]
N/A
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