Fair enough. More wizards and less gears. Doesn't matter much anyway, just means my choice of character art has unneeded features.

Anywho, you didn't mention openness or lack thereof, so I'm gonna go out on a limb, here:


[hider=Marcus]
[b]Name:[/b] Marcus "The Hunter" Walt
[b]Age:[/b] 28
[b]Gender:[/b] Male
[b]Race:[/b] Human
[b]Appearance:[/b]
[hider=Please disregard the guns and such.]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/QBCThw5.jpg[/img]
[/hider]


[b]Personality:[/b] Flippant with little regard for courtly etiquette, Marcus has been reprimanded for mouthing off or a slovenly appearance more times in the last month than many knights are in their entire careers, but his eccentricities are tolerated, barely, due to his almost inhuman tenacity. Every time he's set out to capture or kill some renegade or criminal, he's returned with a head or a prisoner, sometimes taking years to run them to ground. His only other redeeming quality is his sometimes unnecessarily brutal honesty. Those who know him, and can look past his poor manners, know that he will never grant false hope nor offer unearned praise.

[b]Brief Backstory:[/b] Born a commoner on a farm that no longer exists, Marcus has never truly forgotten the blood and fear of that fateful night. Indeed, he sometimes still dreams of it. When he was eight, his family farm was raided by bandits. They were far out in the country; Marcus could practically cross the Thain/Velt border by accident, and patrols rarely, if ever, bothered with the unimportant and uneventful farm. As such, lawless men saw easy pickings and descended on his family.
Marcus's father had scared off wolves and even the odd brigand, but the force that assaulted them that night was something even a hardened soldier would have struggled to survive. The farm burned, the fields were plundered, and the animals were slaughtered. His parents died giving him a chance to run, and he escaped into the night with the glow of the farmhouse lighting his way.
Covered in soot, mud, and even some blood (whose he couldn't say and, what's more, didn't want to contemplate), he collapsed at the foot of a tree and passed out from exhaustion. When he woke, all he could think of was how everything was gone and of who had taken it from him. Vengeance became his only possession, and he treasured it dearly.
It wasn't a fast thing, his revenge. He was just a boy, an orphan, with no money nor even a dagger. His campaign lasted well through his teens as he stole, fought, and lied in preparation for his raid on the brigands who had so effectively torn his life apart. Eventually, the time came when he was ready, or at least too eager for blood to wait any longer. He strapped on his sword and slung his rucksack over his shoulder as he set out for the last known location of the bandit clan that had set him on this path.
His old anger urged him on as he beheld their fort, but time and many brushes with death since that night tempered his fury with experience. The one-man siege that followed was something that would be spoken about in taverns for months to come. In fact, those rumors were what led to his being approached by the Iron Rose Knights.
The meeting didn't go well. Marcus had spent the months since his raid working as a bounty hunter and getting drunk between jobs; it was during his downtime that the recruiter found him bent over a bar. Some words were said, punches thrown, and, despite some lost teeth and a broken hand, the recruiter offered Marcus a place among the Iron Rose Knights. He was still kind of drunk when he accepted.
It's been nearly a decade since joining. Nowadays, if he's not returning from a mission, he's getting kicked out of whatever city he was staying in after offending some stuffed shirt. Much hasn't changed from his independent days, really.

[b]Equipment: [/b]
[i]Grim Fate[/i] - His preferred weapon is a supposedly-cursed bastard sword. The story goes that whomever wields it will suffer a slow, agonizing death. Incidentally, the man he took it from was a target that he spent the better part of four years hunting. The man was tired, bloody, and half-starved when Marcus finally caught and slew him. Cursed or not, Grim Fate never seems to need sharpening and almost seems to know where the weak points in enemies' armor is.
[i]Mail-backed leather jacket[/i] - A holdover from his days as a bounty hunter, Marcus prefers to wear lighter armor. Heavy armor, he reasons, just leaves you tired and slow, which gets you killed.
[i]Boots of Haste[/i] - Stylish boots with a simple speed-enhancing enchantment. Due to their magic, Marcus is fleeter of foot and quicker to react than most humans.
[b]Skills:[/b]
[i]Tracking[/i] - Whether it's a massive force or a single man, Marcus can figure out where they're going, how much they're carrying, and even if anyone is injured.
[i]Dirty Tricks[/i] - A fistful of dirt to the eyes, a shot to a sensitive area, or a sword in the back. Marcus fights dirty and laughs at those who don't.
[i]One-Handed Swordsman[/i] - Marcus is a highly competent swordsman, and his style is almost entirely original since he lacks proper training. That doesn't matter much against other self-taught fighters, but rank-and-file soldiers and noble-born swordsmen might be confused by his non-traditional techniques.
[i]Survivalist[/i] - Marcus is used to surviving on little more than a blade and guts. When on the road, he eats little, drinks sparingly, and sleeps light, but he's always ready and able to fight or run a little bit farther.
[/hider]