[hider=Sinclare D'Etinn]
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[center][b]Brettonian Human- Questing Knight Errant[/b]

[b]Sinclaire fights as all questing knights do. With sword in hand and courage in heart! A force on the battlefield whose bravado has yet to be matched by any individual, he fights purely for one reason and one reason only- glory. For this reason, it means he actually fits in rather well with the dwarves, some of which who have even given him the honour of calling him 'Dwari' 

Clad in thick plate and a layer underneath of mail, and festooned in his knightly colours (blue and gold, of course, anything else would be only befitting of peasantry,) Sinclaire can cleave skaven by the dozen with his greatsword, but falters much more against anyone who actually matches up to him in strength, forcing him to rely on his skill and training in order to best them.[/b]

[b]As would be expected from a questing knight of Bretonnia, Sinclaire is a [i]large[/i] individual. He stands taller than most other humans, even matching up to some smaller orc specimens- in fact, were it not for his armour and air, he could quite easily be mistaken for a northlander. He carries several sets of weaponry, or rather, his long suffering mount Giltswift does. These include his longsword, a mace, a shield and an arming sword. As would be expected from a proper Breton, he shuns any form of ranged weapon- wading into melee is the only proper way a warrior fights.

Apart from his battle equipment, the Breton carries little. Knights errant do not have the luxury of squires and retainers to carry their gear, and as such he must remain somewhat light. A few changes of clothes, some fine Breton wine and a rather large coin purse is all the man carries with him. [/b]

[b]Sinclaire's life is unextraordinary- should one consider being a Bretonnian nobleman unextrodinary. Born into house D'Ettin, a noble-born son then trains almost from birth in the way of the blade. Well trained, he departed on his errant quest almost as soon as he was a fully grown man, and has been on the road for several years since.

In his time, Sinclaire has seen and fought much. Skaven, goblins, the occasional orc and in one particularly nasty case, a necromantic witch have fallen to his blade. As any questing knight would be, his trials and tribulations have not taught him how to temper his spirit, and the man is as wild an untamed as a stallion most of the time. That being said, he does have a... [i]Somewhat[/i] capable head on his shoulders, if only since he's managed to avoid having the whole thing taken off. 

His travels eventually lead him towards the dwarflands. He was unsure of exactly what he was going to slay there, but when he saw the first sallies into the mines of Karak, he saw his opportunity. Riches! Dwarven weaponry! Fame! Glory! All waiting to be grasped.[/b]
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