[hider=Tavrel Brahn][center][h2][i][color=Teal]Tav Brahn[/color][/i][/h2]
[img]http://i.imgur.com/vHXG4gJ.jpg[/img]
[color=Teal][i]"The road has no hearth, but it’s a good a home as any."[/i][/color][/center]
[center][h3][i][color=Teal]Profile[/color][/i][/h3][/center]
[b]Full Name:[/b] Tavrel Brahn
[b]Titles/Nicknames:[/b] “Tav”
[b]Age:[/b] 29
[b]Race:[/b] Human
[b]Gender:[/b] Male
[b]Sexual Orientation:[/b] Heterosexual 
[b]Combat Role:[/b]Frontline Counter-Attacker/Harrier

[b]Hair Color:[/b] Brown
[b]Eye Color:[/b] Green
[b]Height:[/b] 5’ 11”
[b]Weight:[/b] 153 Lbs

[b]Appearance:[/b] Tav is built like a traveler. Lean, all hard edges and lines. His shoulders are, perhaps, less broad than that of the average Togureni, likely a result of his mixed parentage. He has the start of a beard, and a noticeable scar on his head and face. His eyes are pale and clearly observant, if not always alert. He has a perpetual ghost of a grin on his face. His posture is less than stellar, with a slight backward lean.

[center][h3][i][color=Teal]Personality[/color][/i][/h3][/center]
[b]Overview:[/b] Tav has seen much in 29 years. From the worst of Torgureni warfare, to the savagery of wild mongrels. He’s felt love and disgust, anger and joy. He’s seen much of the world. Despite this, Tavrel is far from wise and world-weary. He looks at new things with an almost child-like curiosity, and has a devil-may-care attitude towards even the greatest of dangers. He’s a bombastic drunk, and occasionally impulsive. Some call him vivacious, others call him immature.

Tav has some growing up to do, and a lot of that stems from an innate fear of stagnation. For him, responsibility means settling down, and that is really Tav’s only real fear. He makes friends easily, but dislikes staying still long enough to create life-long friendships. Tav has a lot of people who’d drink to his memory, a few that would spit on his grave, but none that would, say, name their children after him or take up arms in his honor.

[center][h3][i][color=Teal]Combat[/color][/i][/h3][/center]

[b]Strength:[/b] 5
[b]Dexterity:[/b] 7
[b]Intelligence:[/b] 4
[b]Cunning:[/b] 5
[b]Magic:[/b] 1
[b]Willpower:[/b] 1
[b]Endurance:[/b] 3
[b]Charisma:[/b] 5

[b]Weapons of Choice:[/b] Tav currently wields a pair of blades. One, in his off hand, is a sturdy dagger, with dull edges, a sharp tip, and a thick handguard, meant for parrying. The other, in his right hand, is a Markothi saber, meant for slashing and hacking as opposed to thrusting. Both are of fairly common make, and he’s not especially attached to either of them.

[b]Armor/Combat Apparel:[/b] Tav wears a tanned leather cuirass, and wears metal bracers on each forearm. He wears common, rough-cloth trousers with thin leather boots. The bracers are sturdy, and quite effective at warding off blows. His cuirass is adept at fending off glancing slashes, but a solid thrust or hack would easily get through it. However, his style changes depending on what is available to him, and, excluding the bracers, he’s not attached to any of it.

[b]Fighting Style:[/b] Tav is a mostly stationary, frontline fighter. He prefers dealing with one opponent at a time, and does so in one of two ways. Usually, he holds fast, fighting defensively by parrying blows with one of his blades, and viciously retaliating with the other. When this proves ineffective for any reason, he falls back to a vastly different style. He rains down blows with both blades, harrying his opponent ruthlessly, hopefully overwhelming whatever defense they mount. The issue with that, however, is that it’s quite taxing to swing heavy blades around that hard, that fast. If he doesn’t kill or force back his opponent with that burst, he’s likely to be killed before he can get his blades up to block. As such, he prefers to fight defensively whenever possible.      

[b]Magical Affinity:[/b] N/A

[center][h3][i][color=Teal]Background[/color][/i][/h3][/center]
[b]Place of Birth:[/b] Toguren (temporary encampment)
[b]Social Status:[/b] Former Togureni Warrior, Markothi tribesman, Wanderer

[b]History:[/b] Born in Toguren, Tav’s parents were of different heritage. His mother was a semi-prominent, Markothi Tribal Warrior, and his father was a Togureni Berserker. His early life was spent learning to fight, from both parents. Lacking the pure physical strength to fight like a berserker and the finesse to properly master his mother’s parry-heavy style, he decided to merge them both. He grew into, if not an outstanding fighter, then one who could hold his own. He earned respect on the many battlefields of Toguren, fighting alongside his parents and clanmates.

Inevitably, Tav’s parents met the end that accompanies a lifetime spent at war. He grieved for some time, but the wars didn’t stop just because his parents had died. He fought, and he became better at it. However, Tav, now a young man, liked his alcohol more than most, and was a bit of a womanizer. Eventually, he got exceptionally drunk and found his way into the bed of his chieftain’s daughter. Upon waking, he thought it best to not be around when the rest of the clan awoke.

He thought about finding refuge with another clan, but he thought about how little of the world he’d seen. So, he wandered, and found himself in Markoth. There, he proved his worth to a tribe by assisting some of their warriors with a hostile mongrel problem. He traveled with them, eventually becoming Markothi. For the first time in Tav’s life, he wasn’t constantly fighting. Markoth wasn’t exactly safe, but the bloodshed was nothing like that of Toguren. It was during this time that he received his scar, but he changes the story every time he tells it. Sometimes, he slips and slashes himself with his own blade. Once, he said that he’d bet a drunk archer that an apple can’t be shot off of his head, a bet he won, unfortunately. 

Eventually, Tav grew bored. He left Markoth, with an empty promise to his tribe that he’d someday return. He thought about returning to Toguren, but decided against it. Even if the Chieftain had forgotten about him, a doubtful prospect, he wanted to go somewhere new. So, he wandered again. He found himself in Venatria, in the right costal town at the right time. Having only fought in arenas on occasion, and never in an organized tournament, he decided to try his hand at the town’s tournament. [/hider]