[hider=Loheir the Lost, the Lonely Lord]
[B]Username:[/B] Clocktower_Echos

[b]Character Name:[/b] Loheir the Lost

[b]Race/Species:[/b] Bretonnian

[b]Gender:[/b] Male

[b]Age:[/b] 32

[b]Career (if any) and Skills:[/b] A former Questing Knight, Loheir knows plenty on fighting and wielding a great sword. Despite taking the Questin Vow, he never completed it due to his cynicism. At one point he was the protector of a small Empire hamlet, defending it form bandits, orks and beastmen almost entirety by himself as the villagers refused to support him or even give him any real respect. While defending the villagers, Loheir would continuously loose more and more of that which made him a Questing Knight until even his vows were forgotten and he forgot why he protected them. In a final act of sacrifice, he gave up the only person in the village who cared for him who was also his lover to a hedge wizard in the hopes he'd be able to enact a ritual to cleanse the area of beastmen. Except the spell backfired and turned the village to ash along with everyone in it, even Loheir's lover. Having lost everything once again, he left the ruins and wanders forever onward into an endless horizon for reasons he no longer knows or really cares about.

[b]Weapons:[/b] While in the past Loheir had an arsenal befitting a Knight of Bretonnia, all he has left is a great, nameless two-handed machete that once belonged to an equally nameless beastman. Ages ago, he used the machete in conjunction with his Bretonnian shield -the only thing which survived his journey and ensuing battles- but now he exclusively uses it as a two handed great sword with an extended hilt, forsaking his shield as he no longer feels the need of self-preservation nor the protection of others.

[b]Attire:[/b]
Looking at him, no one would suspect Loheir a Bretonnian knight until he opened his mouth. His armor is a motley amalgamation of crude plates taken from beastmen and orks, forced into something resemble proper armor over a chain mail tunic. His long boots and his gauntlets are but tough leather with metal plates sewn on top and nothing of his heraldry remains, not that Loheir would want any of it to be seen. Under his armor is a ragged and patchwork tunic, surviving all which its wearer has. Around his neck is a blue scarf, lovingly made by the sole maiden he ever fell in love with, and the ashes of said maiden in a pouch around his neck.

[b]Equipment/Other[/b] 
The ex "Lord of Holoheim" carries little on him. Rations, two waterskins, a sleeping mat, a small dagger, a broken vial of blessed waters and the ashes of his former lover in a small pouch around his neck.

[b]Physical Description (as detailed as possible please, pictures not accepted.):[/b] 
Tall, well built and brawny, Loheir's apperance is larger of that than a normal Bretonnian. Indeed, many of his detractors have claimed him to have illegitimate Norscan blood to insult him. His body is covered in countless scars, bruises and scratches. His dull blue eyes had long since forgotten the energy and excitement of youth, leaving them colorless and hollow. His once proud mane of brown hair has been dirtied to the point of blackness with only the inkling of grey hairs breaking the dirty mess. His beard is unkept and ragged, owing to the limited time and equipment Loheir has to groom it. It wouldn't be far to say that it would be easier to assume that Loheir is some common, well built mountain bandit than a son of Bretonnia.

[b]Mental Description/Personality:[/b] 
Cynical and somber, Loheir is every well acquainted to the concept of loss and failure. His mind is a network of paradoxes and contradictions, but the man himself cares little for any attempts to clear it. Most of his actions, he does not know why he does, perhaps its out of what remains of a sense of duty or that deep down a part of him still cares and believes. Regardless, everyday is a sort of haze of him with the only real clarity being that of combat or direct orders. While meloncoly, Loheir hasn't cut himself off from the outside world and quickly latches on to people who seem even mildly interested in his story or can at least understand him, likely due to never having too many connections despite desperately wanting them in his younger years.

[b]Background/History:[/b]
Born the youngest of an already long line of sons and an even longer line of siblings overall, Loheir was destinent to never inherent anything of value from his parents. At best, he'd get a small parcel of land and maybe a dozen peasants to lord over, but Loheir didn't want to live such a pathetic life but he was unable to escape his destiny. As such, the boy grew cynical and distant with only enough Bretonnian traditions of honor and chivalry not to be led completely astray.

Born naturally brawny, Loheir was the first of his brothers to become a Knight Errant despite his youth. He didn't spend his time feasting or learning or socializing, Loheir  knew that the best way of escaping his menial fate was through war and battle. After intense pressuring from his family, Loheir reluctantly took on the Questing Oath. Granted whatever remained in the family armory, Loheir set out to "prove his worth" to a Lady he didn't believe in and a Lady who would never appear to him despite nearly two decades of Questing to come.

Every fight, every battle, every conflict brought him further and further from home. As days turned to months that turned to years, Loheir fought his way ever more distant from his home until one day, he arrived in a foreign land, surrounded by people who didn't speak his language and couldn't care for him. He had long forgotten his holy duty and noble oaths, content with wandering and simply surviving every fight he went into. Known as "the Lost", Loheir begun to forget why he kept throwing himself into battle after battle, perhaps the thrill of combat was what made him feel alive, perhaps it was truly the only thing he was good at, perhaps he simply wanted to vent his anger upon his foes in rage against the poor hand he was dealt by fate. Whatever the reasons, it was certainly no longer for some forgotten vow in the back of his mind.

It would be the village of Holoheim which Loheir's fate would truly be sealed however. A lonely hamlet beset by foul beastmen raiders and greenskin marauders, what remained of Loheir's nobility and chivalry was used to protect the villages. Catching the beastmen unaware, Loheir's skill at arms and superior weapons allowed him to slay a handful before the retreated into the forest. When he turned to the villagers however, he did not see joy or relief on their faces. Instead he saw was contempt and unsettling shame from them as they had to rely on an outsider to defend themselves. Loheir was given a cold stew and an even colder bed as rewards for his trouble.

Just like how he did not know why he kept fighting, Loheir stayed at the village and protected it from further raids. When he tried to leave, the villagers reluctantly begged him to stay and protect them as they knew their local lord wouldn't raise a finger to save them. As such, Loheir was crowed the unofficial Lord of Holoheim, but there was no glory. Instead of becoming Loheir the Lord, Loheir the Lost was more akin to Loheir, the Lonely Ruler for his subjects gave him no gratitude and only the most begrudging of spiteful respect. Those who spoke of him as "lord" were insincere and often mocking as their shame grew with every day that passed as many began to suspect that he wasn't fit to protect them.

Nevertheless, Loheir fought on for the people for reasons he didn't quite grasp himself. While he drove off raiders, bandits and greenskins, the Bretonnian kept losing a bit of himself in every fight.  First he lost his helm, knocked off and crushed under hooves. Next was his heraldry, ripped off during a brawl. His horse came next, blocking an axe with its body meant for Loheir. After that was his armor, which had been worn down and ripped apart over a dozen fights and skirmishes. And finally, his sword broke after an axe shattered it in two. Despite his heroism and bravery, the villagers only came to despise him more because of how increasingly reliant they were to his service. Loheir was only staying out of what remained of a sense of duty and a woman he fell in love with and protected with the only weapons he had left, the crude greatsword of a beastman and his shield.

But when a wandering hedge wizard arrived at the village one day, an offer was made: in exchange for the hand of the maiden that Loheir was in love with, he would burn all of the threats to the village. Making one final sacrifice, Loheir accepted the demands and allowed the wizard to take the maiden's hand. However, the ritual went awry, instead of burning away just the beastmen, the entire village went up in smoke, burnt to ash, slag and rubble in seconds. Out of primal fear, Loheir ran from the village as it burned, the cries and pleads for help forever haunting him. When he returned to Holoheim, nothing remained as charred bodies where fused together. And the woman he loved so deeply? She had been reduced to ash before the what was Loheir's "throne"; a stone chair that had once had a blanket draped over it to signal that it was the "Lord of Holoheim's".

Now truly alone, Loheir wept and he grieved for even now, he failed to protect even those who hated him. He spent days in the ruins, wandering the burnt out homes and sitting upon his ruined throne, gazing upon what ashes where left, perhaps waiting for someone or something to come out of the forest and simply end him there. But nothing came for him, not even beastmen or greenskins. Having shed enough tears, Loheir left his battered sheild, the only piece of equipment that survived from Bretonnia, upon his throne of cinders and extended the handle of his great sword, no longer feeling the need of self-preservation and having no one else to protect before marching off into the distant horizon, once again for lands unknown.
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