[center][b]Biographical Section[/b][/center]
 
 [b]Name:[/b] Rust, or Russel (Rustle) 
[hider=History]True name is Gerulf Rask, but forgotten[/hider]
 [b]Age:[/b] <1
[hider=History]Was born 429 years ago, and was 18 when he was killed on a field of battle[/hider]
 [b]Race:[/b] Intelligent Skeleton (Human)
 [b]Sex:[/b] Male
 [b]Appearance:[/b] [hider=Somewhat large image][img=http://i21.photobucket.com/albums/b271/dposcuro/Other/Skeleton_Knight_by_maxarkes_zps9fb7e148.jpg][/hider]
 [b]Homeland:[/b] [i]Kingdom of Renalta:[/i] The Kingdom of Renalta was restored by Queen Kouri ten years ago, prior to this, it was a series of villages and towns that mainly kept to themselves. This Kingdom is perhaps the most idyllic in belief and in practice, with the concerns of the people often directly addressed by the royalty themselves, a great deal of emphasis is placed upon keeping the commoner fed, clothed, and housed, with ample opportunities for work at every corner. Often times the royalty themselves can be seen, sometimes even without bodyguards, walking the streets like any regular commoner. This has earned them the reputation of being both trustworthy and zealously adored by the majority of the people.
 
 The culture of Renalta is openly tolerant, though there is still some underlying dislike of the now banished gods whom punitively destroyed the kingdom one thousand years ago. Their military is zealous and loyal, but untested in real warfare and relatively small in comparison to the other major world powers. Religiously, they tend to scatter across several religions. Racially, they tend to be the most diverse nation, though this sometimes causes friction between two immigrants whose homeland kingdoms are at war.
 
 In general, most of the land is farmland, rolling grassy hills, hamlets, and rivers, with foothills and mountains to the north, and forests to the west and south. East they have a direct border with Liveria, which has little in the way of trade due to the sometimes tense relations between the two kingdoms. Renalta is the only significantly populated city, but it is one of the most populated on the planet, easily spanning several kilometers in every direction and boasting large, open streets for trade with open, welcoming architecture. The recent population explosion from refugees is making even this city however a little crowded.
 

 [b]History:[/b] 
Pain, light, and sensation jolted him awake. He woke to find himself leaning against the shattered remains of a castle wall, his legs and lower abdomen buried under the soil and roots of the bramble thicket that had tendrils hooked into his eye sockets. Seeing his skeletal arm for the first time as he attempted to scratch the offending vegetation from his face was a violent shock of realization...mixed with abject terror and utter confusion. He didn't know why, but he knew something was wrong. Soon the realization dawned on him however, he didn't understand what was wrong, because he had no basis to comprehend. When he tried to think, understand, or draw on something...his mind give his brief, fleeting flashes of light, colour, abstract shapes that meant nothing. He knew, somehow, they were memories. It was something important. But it was like being trapped within a frosted glass bottle in the middle of a lightning storm while stained glass windows swirled around outside. Nothing make a cohesive form, nothing made a whole. Any time he thought he could focus on a shape, it would simply dissolve from his mind and leave like a dream, slipping through the cracks.

Slowly, he began to dig his way out of the ground, ripping the thick, thorny brambles from his bones, and the scraps of armor that he could not bear to part with. He found the rusted blade underneath himself, and dug it out as well, not understanding why he bothered. Scrambling through brambles and thickets of overgrown wilderness, the skeleton eventually made his way to a trail, and began to follow it. At a steady march for several days, he descended from the mountains, encountering a squad of men and women from Renalta, patrolling their boarder. When they were suitably convinced he was not hostile, after having laid down his broken sword before himself, and taken a knee, they bound him and took him back to their outpost.

On the way, however, they ran across a hamlet in the process of being raided by brigands. In the ensuing chaos, he slipped his bonds, and took up a spear of a fallen farmer. As his fingers clutched the haft, he realized he knew well how to use it. It was not memories, but knowledge, akin to how he could understand and speak, but could not understand the [i]why[/i] he knew, nor the [i]how[/i]. Yet the weight of the spear felt, familiar. A fragment of memory flashing and fading, as he used the spear in the defense of the farmers, and his own captors. Yet, he found his movements excessive, broad and uncontrolled, like he was stronger than he expected himself to be, or simply weighed less. In the aftermath of the fighting, he had managed to help save one of the Renaltan soldiers, and assisted in the fighting of the fires that had been ignited. Work weary, and having her minor lacerations tended to by the dinner fire, the squad commander called the Skeleton before her, unbound and unguarded as he had been since the cessation of the fighting, "Skeleton. I am puzzled," she drank a draught from her flask, as the medico cleaned one of the larger cuts on on the right flank of her rip cage, "you hold no oath, no loyalty, no bond to us, rather we have given you reason enough to have turned on us once you found yourself free, if not vanish in the chao-" her words ending in a sudden sharp hiss of breath as the medico applied a stinging salve. "Yet you fought by our side, you saved Private Coultrin, and even beyond the call of honour and compassion of these actions, to save homes of those you know not. You've displayed more valour and courage than most of the recruits I have under my command." She shook her head slightly, her dull brown hair sweeping the shoulders of her linen smock, a face of hard lines and stern expression, made grim by the drawn lips in concentrated thought. "By my honour, you will be free if you answer this: Why?"

He hesitated, hollow eye sockets catching the dancing light of the fire, shadows playing across his "face" suit enough to stir the nightmares of children as he stood stock still. His voice came just as the sergeant was about to question him again, his voice quiet, a shallow hiss of unnatural resonance that just seemed to emanate from him as he spoke, "I know not." Pausing, he let the words hang for a moment, trying to piece together the answer himself, his voice came hesitantly, unsure, "I know, nothing of the past. I know nothing of now. Yet, when I cut my bonds free on the fallen edge of a spear, I took the weapon to hand, and felt..." His voice trailed off, this hissing dissipating into silence before he spoke again, "something. It felt, familiar. I saw a flicker of memory. Colour, and...calm, and anxious." Slowly, he drew his right arm to his chin, bracing his bent elbow on his left hand, looking oddly thoughtful, "Hard to express, but the fight felt..." he trailed off again, searching for a word, "comfortable? Routine? Natural? Something akin to this." Slowly he pointed to the commander herself, "Your words, honour, valour, and courage. They play like notes on strings in darkness. They remind me of something I cannot remember. They make me long for something I know not. But I like them. They feel...right."

By the time the squad had arrived back at the outpost, the skeleton had earned a nickname; Rustle, from the odd sounds he made while moving, as his armor continuously shifted on his form. It had also been agreed upon that he would try to join the Queen's Blades.

 [b]Motivation:[/b] He seeks to understand who he is, why he is, and what he is. Through combat, he finds connections to vague memories. He hopes that by joining the Queen's Blades he will find the opportunities to gain access to fragments, or comprehendable pieces of his mind, through action, honour, valour and courage. 
 
 [center][b]Traits & Equipment[/b][/center]
 
 [b]General Traits[/b]
 --Trait 1. Defender: You could take more hits to the face and become an unrecognizable, horrible mutilated piece of scar tissue on one and a half legs... Or, you’ve mused, you could probably just stop that by holding a shield and your armour correctly. This lets you absorb harder blows with your shield and armour. (Basics of wielding shields and armour (especially heavy armour) effectively.)
 --Trait 2. Heavy Hitter: Where some would resort to flailing their arms about in an unsophisticated manner, you’ve decided that if you can hit something hard enough the first time that it stays down, that you can end fights before they can even really begin. Though, you’re still working on that “consistent” part, and not slowing down when you swing harder than usual. In the case of a ranged weapon, it means a larger calibre firearm or larger bow, translating to greater recoil and/or slower fire rate instead. (Basics of doing more damage with each swing.)
 --Trait 3. Charger: Something a lot of people don’t seem to realize is that the more muscles you have, the faster you are. Sure, perhaps not dexterous, but certainly faster. While you have only begun to learn the true meaning of land speed and would still be caught and killed by a tiger, you are capable of a short distance charge that can knock opponents down and catch the unwary by surprise. (Basics of dashing quickly and charging into opponents.)
 
 [b]Unique Traits[/b]
 --Trait 1. Awakened Skeleton: Through means unknown, this skeleton has arisen after centuries of rest, its original soul called back to it. As a skeleton, it has no need to eat, breathe, sleep, or anything else that flesh and blood require. Without the need for external fuel, he cannot tire, or suffer fatigue, nor exhaustion from labour. However he does have a mind that requires rest to process information, but substantially less than normal, around 4 hours. The downfall of course is, he is a skeleton of all 27 lbs, and cannot heal through natural means, requiring magic to repair damage. The slumber of centuries has taken a severe toll on his memories and has, effectively, left him with near total amnesia. He retains skills and abilities, but cannot recall how he knows them, or, that he knows of them in some cases.
 --Trait 2. Unburdened Strength: All of the strength with none of the mass. While fresh out of the ground, the Awakened Skeleton is fighting ingrained "muscle memory" of how much strength is needed to perform an action, and the reality that they no longer are limited by the restriction of flesh. Being able to hit harder, and move faster than normal. However, their inexperience leads to some incoordination.
 
 [b]Equipment List[/b]
 Nearly complete set of old Gault heavy infantry breastplate armour. Pitted and damaged beyond repair. Held together with scraps of new chain and leather. Hangs very loose. Was at one point, quite ornate.
 A large, two handed sword slashing sword. Now broken, cracked, chipped, and heavily pitted from rust. Kept in a simple, tooled leather sheath.
 A light, wood hafted flanged mace, with metal langettes. Carried at his waist.
 Simple wooden shield
 Spear
 
 [center][b]Personal Section[/b][/center]
 
 [b]Romance:[/b] If it makes sense and isn't forced, okay with it.
 [b]Does the Kouri Plushie exist?:[/b] It should if it doesn't?
 
 [b]Signature:[/b] Goldmarble