Name: Aomalur the Merciless

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance: 
His kind face and unremarkable height belie the cruelty of Aomalur.  Perhaps that is why he did as well as he did in the Arena.  A flair for the the theatrical and a tendency to play with his opponent, as well as his less than particularly threatening appearance, meant that his fights tended tended to ratchet up to their often grisly and drawn out ends.  With his nondescript appearance Aomalur had not been granted a particularly impressive weapon to start out with or any title to strike fear in to the hearts of others.  He had been expected to fight and die and to do the latter rather swiftly, but his tendency to drag the fights and the deaths out became his calling card.

Equipment:
Sticking with his initial weapon, a simple but substantial sword with a squared off guard and a spiked pommel, Aomalur eventually earned and adopted a shield with a crescent cut out to complement the sword and stopped there.  Neither required any particular strength or endurance to wield and so he was free to practice his foot work and his swings.  In time he made additions to his armor to capitalize on his developing methodical style.

Chainmail hangs from his shield to catch deflected weapons and disarm or distract opponents.  Chainmail about his chest serves a similar purpose.  He otherwise wears minimal armor to allow himself unimpeded movement.  In the Arenas his horned helmet served mostly as decoration, and to serve as part of his ceremony.  When his foe was beaten, lying exhausted in the sand and waiting for the sweet release of death and an end to pain, Aomalur would drag the poor soul to his helmet, deliver a killing blow, and bathe the helmet in the last of his opponent's life blood before donning his helm to the applause of those gathered.

These are his only tools, but he knows them well and they have seen much use.

Ambition: 
To march across these worlds and leave a trail of bloody dirt and bleached bone behind.