[center][h1][b]Name:[/b] Sir Merek of Astora.[/h1][/center]


[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/Uwg4BjY.jpg[/img][/center]



[b]Age:[/b] 36, as far as he can recall. 

[b]Gender:[/b] Male. 

[b]Appearance:[/b] A tall, gaunt individual, the like of which is befitting of a wearied, soul-shriven undead. Maybe once, in life, he was of a handsome stock; now, he is but a shadow of his former self, a saddening fact best expressed through his ragged, blonde-gray hair, and pale, roughened face. A scratchy beard compliments his lackluster appearance, alongside his sunken gray eyes.  Despite his condition, he fits well into his suit of armor, hinting at a man who’s done nothing but fight since having reluctantly arrived in this strange, decrepit land. 

[b]Armour/Clothes:[/b] The Heide Knight Set.  

[b]Personality:[/b] As many undead before him, Merek was once a hopeful optimist, a beacon of hope and joy to all he met in his extensive, tireless travels. Now, for whatever reason, he is all but at a loss. Doomed to live a miserable, eternal existence, forever incapable of death, it isn’t hard to tell that this once heroic knight is nearing the end. Hollowing. Despite his constant lamenting and dejected state of being, he still lends a helping hand to those who most require it; maybe because, somewhere, deep down, that was who he truly was. His iridescent, dimly-glowing summoning stone is typically found throughout the dark, depressive lands, willing to help those in their darkest hour; helping as no one ever helped him. 

[b]Skills:[/b] A swordsman of great repute, the name Merek had at once been feared by the foes of Astora, long before the fires had grown cold. He still wields the massive, engraved blade of Astora, albeit with less vigor and passion than once upon a time. Besides his skill at arms, this warrior once briefly delved into the Way of White’s secrets, learning Miracles from a blind, affectionate maiden of Carim he once protected. He wonders what happened to her, after all this time… 

[b]Weaknesses and Fears:[/b] He has an acute distrust, possibly even fear, of the deep. Sorceries that stem of this dark branch of magic tend to make him anxious, even defensive; the worst part about this is that, for whatever, reason, he can’t remember why it gives him the chills. It seems so innate, as if he had it when he first awoke. Besides this, he secretly fears eternal life, constantly and brashly risking himself in battle in the hopes of finding death. He knows what it is to hollow, and he wishes to die with whatever shred of honor and dignity he still possesses.

[b]Spells:[/b] Thanks to his brief experience with Miracles, Merek possesses the ability to cast Heal, a rudimentary Lightning Spear, and the Seek Guidance spell; a cruel, cruel irony to him. 

[b]Weapons:[/b] The Astora Greatsword. 

[b]Bio:[/b] Time is convoluted, in this dark realm. This has, among other things, driven the once valiant knight Merek to the brink of insanity. He knows next to nothing of the life he left behind, save for a singular, blotchy letter he found upon waking up, coated in a neglected, thin layer of ash. It was addressed to him from… his wife. She spoke of home, a warm hearth, playful children. For what must’ve been years, Merek kept this letter close to him, his optimism and good nature likely due in part to it; like many others before him, he sought a path back to the way things were. 

And, like many others before him, he failed. Now, doomed to roam the land for eternity, a taunting letter he can’t bring himself to throw away in hand, Merek slowly begins to grow hollow, silently crying for help, whispers lost in a silent wind, dead as he. 

[b]Other:[/b] Merek constantly seeks a way out of his eternal suffering. As such, he tends to risk himself in combat to a dangerous extent; whilst never necessarily a bad thing, the tendency to get himself surrounded is a bad one, to say the least. 
Much like a bonfire, this old knight of Astora’s optimism and joy lies hidden within, somewhere; all it needs is to be reignited.