Seems I'm late to the party. 
 
[hider=Alexander Valerian] 
 
[b]Name:[/b] Alexander Valerian 
 
[b]Age:[/b] Twenty-Four, give or take a year. He does not much keep track of his birthday. 
 
[b]Appearance:[/b] Alex is a fairly average looking man, standing just under six-feet tall, with fair skin and a face that could be considered handsome, but is nothing special. His is broad, a bit of muscle on his body, but mostly it is "baby fat," nothing that makes him look round in the stomach, but enough so that he is still a big man. His hair is black, cut short and kept that way so it does not fall out into the food or drink he serves. Thick stubble covers his cheeks, chin, and upper lip, and would evolve into a full grown beard if it weren't shaved as close as he keeps it. For his dress, he wears a simple, alcohol and grease stained tunic, yellowed with age, and a pair of old brown trousers. A similarly stained apron hangs around his waist, with a rag tucked into the pocket. He keeps his sleeves rolled up above his elbows, exposing his forearms. 
(If anyone can find a half decent picture of an innkeeper that doesn't look like he's 50+, I will be impressed.) 
 
[b]Occupation:[/b] Innkeeper 
 
[b]Personality:[/b] Working as an innkeeper of a little town that had its fair share of travelers, Alexander heard stories. He'd never been beyond the confines of his village. Had never needed to. The owner of the inn bought the food and made the drink, others hunted and farmed. He just stood behind a counter, gave out room keys, and handed out meals to anyone who had enough to pay for it. But, he heard stories. Of faraway lands, glimmering oceans, fantastical creatures. Hardly believed a word of it. Most of what was told was through drunken hazes. But, in the back of his mind, he'd always wanted to go out and see the world, figure out if all that stuff that was said was true. 
 
As for who he is, he's the kind of guy to give you a smile and shake your hand, and never say a cross word to anyone. Keeps to himself, but will make sure that no one tries to stiff him on payment. The kind of guy that will let a fight break out, watch with the rest of the boys, then clean up the mess and toss the brawlers out into the rain the moment it's done. One to laugh at a good joke, even at someone else's expense. A guy who doesn't mind handing out a free round of drinks if the crowd is good to him, even if its not his beer to hand out. For the most part, everyone would just say he's another good old boy stuck in a dead-end job. And, in his view, its true, and that isn't a bad thing. 
 
[b]History:[/b] The son of two farmers, Alexander grew up waking early in the morning and coming out with his parents to watch them work. When he was old enough, he was set to work with other young boys feeding animals or throwing seed. He made friends, played around - sometimes too much - and lazed about when he should have been working. Farm work was too much work, in his eyes. There was no time to relax. You woke up before dawn, worked until it was time to eat at noon, then went back to work until sundown, had dinner, and went to sleep as soon as possible so that you could get up the next morning to repeat the cycle. 
 
When he heard about the local tavern owner looking for someone to take in as an apprentice, he was the first to show up and offer himself up. Almost abandoning his family to work as a serving boy, he spent his days waking up at a much later time and working not even half as hard to carry platters of food around where it was needed. By the time he was fifteen, he pretty much lived at the inn, getting paid little because of the food and room he was given by the owner. He grew lazy, and was eventually put behind the counter, where all he had to do was stand and hand out bottles and occasionally run food duty. 
 
There he's been since. No one would call him the life of the tavern, but many would call him a friend, and a pleasant man to be around. Would let most of them be as rowdy as they wanted to without raising so much as a finger to stop them, much to the owner's dismay when a few chairs and a table were broken over the course of a year. But, soon he would get the deed to the place, once the owner finally died, no family of his own to take the place from him, and it would be time for Alex to pick up the slack. Or hire someone else to do it for him, like many expected him to do.[/hider]