[b]Name:[/b] Isaak [b]Age:[/b] 19 [b]Sex:[/b] Male [b]Nationality: [/b]Valia [b]Class:[/b] Mercenary [b]Physical Description:[/b] Isaak stands at about 5'11" and has a fairly muscular build. His hair is jet black and swept back to stay out of his face while his skin is a light tan shade. His eyes are a pale gunmetal blue and his face displays a nice calm expression most of the time. His body displays a number of scars from various encounters over the course of his life, though none of which are on his back. His most prominent scar is a streak of pale flesh that runs from the bottom left side of his nose diagonally down to his jaw. His body seems to oze strength and while he does often carry himself in a way that shows this off when he is around strangers, alone or when things are quiet he takes a looser and casual posture of just a teenager. He is definitely an insomniac, due to events in his past so he is often found training or simply lying awake at night. [b]Fighting Style:[/b] He is a powerhouse with a greatsword. He trains constantly to increase his ability with the huge weapon. He uses his strength and agility to his advantage in up close combat, relying on overpowering his opponent(s) or being able to avoid whatever they can throw at him. [b]Personality/Mental: [/b] He tends to be fairly calm and serene. He will make sarcastic comments and poke fun (often going too far). He doesn't really know how to express himself due to his upbringing of being raised by socially inept mercenaries, so often charisma is not at all his strong suit. He does enjoy the feeling of camaraderie he once had from the band of mercenaries but they left him with a difficulty to trust basically anyone. The only way he ever learned to express himself was through combat, but there are other times when he starts to get the hang of it and other times he finds himself happy, and if he learns to trust you then you have a friend for life. [b] History:[/b] Isaak was found as a baby by a band of mercenaries that had been hired to storm a camp. Isaak had presumebly been born to someone in the camp but had been abandoned in the middle of the trail leading through it. He lay there, half in a blanket and crying. One of the kinder mercenaries, Arin, scooped him up and took him along with the group. THe time until isaak was about six years of age were fairly uninteresting, it was at this age that he was being taught how to fight. He was young, but no mercenary eats for free and so he was taught the ways of combat. He excelled at swordplay and wasn't half bad with another weapon in hand either. He caught on quick and trained a lot a night to get even better, and soon he was in battle. He did small roles and there wasn't too mch danger for him, but he was killing men none the less and though it was hard at first he soon learned it well. By the time he was ten the band of mercenaries was at a good spot, they were well known and money came in, and Isaak had proven himself a worthy member. Sure they teased him and pushed him around, but if it came to it he was sure they would have his back. It was at this tender age that he had his little spot in the world ripped away from him. While they all slept a rival group that had been tracking them found their camp and stealthily made their way in and as the band of mercenaries lay asleep they were taken out. It was when Isaak woke up and saw what was happening that he yelled and attacked with all he had. He woke nearby comrades and those in near tents and soon the remaining ones were awake and fighting. They fought valiantly and well, but they were at a disadvantage from the start. Isaak wanted to fight to the end, but Arin's dying words were to run and run he did. Now he was a cold and lonely kid, with the only career skills to his name being murder. He kept on fighting as best he could, and learned that the world doesn't care how old you are, it will trod you down. People spit in his face and thought him disgusting, all he had to his name was his sword. He remained in the business he knew and still did very well, earning a very good name for himself by the time he was fifteen. It was at this time that he had gotten himself a new sword, one more fit to his size, a large greatsword made for an adult man of above average size. While he didn't seem large enough to wield it yet, Isaak knew he needed a weapon that would keep foes at range. What he had was power and he needed a weapon that would allow him to fully utilize it. He got a hand crossbow and called it a day, having all of the tools of the trade he would need to continue this line of work well into his life. [b]Inventory: [/b] [list] [*]Greatsword [*]Hand Crossbow [*]Bolts [*]Waterskin [*]Bedroll [*]Whetstone [*]150 Gold [*]A few novels [*]A tankard [/list]