[centre][h3][b]Lemenuel 'Lem' Arronson[/b][/h3]

[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/a1ff6c0d-3594-4c61-93b3-724574e954c7.jpg[/img]

[h3][b]Male - 48 - Leftentant[/b][/h3]

[quote=George R. R. Martin][i]There are old sellswords and bold sellswords but there are no old, bold sellswords.[/i][/quote][/centre]

[b]Appearance:[/b]

Lem is an older grizzled man with a somewhat gaunt appearance and a wiry build. His thin face is tanned by long days in the sun, and criss-crossed with pale faded scars. From out of this somewhat grim visage stare dark flinty eyes surrounded by prominent crow's feet. They are eyes that look cold and hard at first glance, but can spark with mirth should the mood arise. His nose has been broken at least once and should he choose to smile, it would show that Lem is missing one of his upper canines. He shaves both his face and head, often leaving a rough coating iron grey stubble for extended periods of time. Through his right ear there is thick hoop of dull yellow gold.

Physically Lem is not an imposing man, being of around average height and not of a particularly heavy build. When not in armour, his arms can be seen to be corded with sinewy muscle. On his left forearm are the grey blue marks of the nomad barbarians from across the eastern steppes, made by placing charcoal beneath the skin. His hands are rough and callused, the astute might notice that he is missing the tip of his right index finger. On his left ring finger he wears a wide band of silver and brass, there are two sets of initials on it. 

The final thing might notice about Lem cannot be seen until he begins to move. Lem walks with a noticeable noticeable limp, avoiding putting weight on his left leg and clearly favouring his right.

[b]Personality:[/b] 

Lem Arronson is hard man, he’s lived a hard life and a long one at that considering his profession. He’s tough and reliable, diligent, someone that you can depend upon in a difficult situation. No great speaker, he uses plain language in his native northern dialect. None-the-less, there is still an authoritative tone to his voice, the air of one who has faith in their own expertise. Patient and quiet, he is a man who listens to what others have to say before speaking. All of these traits combined leads Lem to be a cautious (yet highly skilled) fighter and commander of the battlefield. 

Despite his gruffness and somewhat unyielding nature, Lem has a relatively good heart. He genuinely cares for many of those who have served under him and is exceptionally loyal to the Band. He has served as sort of mentor in the past to younger men following similar paths to the one he has travelled. With his comrades he will show his dry sense of humour, one that tends towards the macabre – a side effect of spending a life killing people for money.

However, though he has great love for his brothers in arms, Lem is unscrupulous in how he conducts himself on the battlefield and when negotiating contracts. His morality and loyalty only extends as far as the band, after that, he believes he has no moral obligation. As might be expected considering this outlook, Lem is largely irreligious, though he is as superstitious as any other old soldier.

[b]History: [/b]

Lem’s story is a something of a  common one. He is not an orphan, his young life was not filled with hardship or tragedy or formative suffering. Nor was he a noble, born with silver spoon in mouth. He was the son of common folk, but well to do common folk. They lived outside a small town in the north of Westar where his father bred horses. His mother was from the east, Illyria, across the gulf of Litan. She had met his father as he soldiered on Crusade to the Blessed Lands years before. She kept the house and vegetable gardens while her husband worked in the paddocks and stables of the local lord. 

Lem was second of four children that made it past infancy, he worked in the fields and pastures from a young age with both of his parents, learning to ride and care for horses from a young age. It wasn't a miserable or particularly hard life, sometimes the winters and springs were lean, and sometimes they were not. Ultimately they scraped a decent living for folks such as themselves and his family were content. Lem however, was not.

He had been an adventurous boy, always dreaming beyond the valleys of his childhood to the world that was outside. He wanted to see the world, and more than that, he wanted to be a part of it. He wanted to be more than just another commoner, more than his father; he wanted to live. As he grew older they clashed a lot. 

He went south after his fourteenth name day, riding one of his father's horses, and carrying his old mail shirt and sword. Another crusade was gathering, the Blessed Lands and the city of the prophets was back in the hands of heretics. Lem rode east with the pilgrims and warriors that intended to recapture it. 

He saw his mother's country of Illyria,, before turning south into the arid lands where the prophets had first heard the words of God and the Blessed One had first performed his miracles. The Crusade wasn't just a failure, it was a bloodbath. They had been mostly untrained and poorly armed, foolhardily believing that their faith and their God would be guide them to victory. It was there that Lem learned the importance of caution and tactics on the battlefield.

A experience like this might made some men go home, but not Lem. He went further east, to the far plains of the nomads where it is said that women give birth in the saddle. There he got his first taste of fighting for gold instead of God, and Lem liked it. For six years he warred his way through the eastern lands, fighting alongside the nomads and barbarians in their never ending conflicts. 

By the time he returned to Westar he had made a small fortune. Then there was happy time. There was a woman in Port Layton for a while, thoughts of settled life, but something went wrong - Lem doesn't like to dwell on it. After that there were brothels, drinking and gambling. The money was all gone in a few years and Lem was at rock bottom. That was when he found the Band of Fortune. 

The purpose he found amongst fighting men again saved him from dark time. He fought wherever the Band went, through times both fat and thin. He learned from the old men, until most them were gone, and he was the one doing the teaching. From a serving a man-at-arms as a serjeant, he rose to lead a lance of his own, and then to be a leftenant of the company.

All of this continued uninterrupted until five years ago, when Lem’s horse was killed beneath him during a skirmish on the border at Forlinger. Some runt with a spear stepped out from behind a tree as Lem thundered past and skewered the horse through the chest. The beast fell, and Lem wasn’t quick enough to leap clear of the saddle. It landed on his left leg, crushing his knee in to bloody, broken mess. Lem survived the battle, but he would never be the graceful and truly formidable fighter he had once been.

He served on with the band though, he was experienced, he could lead and train men and was still a good enough sword – especially when in the saddle. Besides, there was no other life left open to him by this point: he had given the band his best years. When banners were called and levies raised for the conflict that would be known as the Anarchy of Adalmar, Lem had been with the band for over twenty five years and was its second most senior commander.

[b]Skills and Abilities: [/b]

[b]Accomplished Swordsman [/b]- Lem has been fighting on and off the battlefield for over 30 years now. If you can do something with a sword that he doesn’t know about, it’s probably not worth knowing. His main areas of expertise are sword and shield or sword and dagger, he is less accomplished with two handed swords or other combinations. He isn't the greatest duellist, and isn't creative or innovative in his fighting style, but his repertoire of techniques is extensive and his execution of them was near flawless in his prime. 

[b]Expert Rider[/b] – Lem is very comfortable on a horse, having ridden extensively in both combat and non-combat situations. His childhood was spent caring and riding horses and his time fighting on the eastern steppes of the nomads taught him how ride bareback and sleep atop a horse.

[b]Unscrupulous Tactician[/b] - Lem has served in variety of conflicts across much of the known world and has seen how many different peoples and cultures fight. His wide travelling gives him an extensive pool of tactical innovations to draw upon. From storing crossbow quarrels in latrines to make the smallest scratches lethal, to rolling felled trees down a battlefield to smash enemy formations - Lem knows how to fight dirty.

[b]Weakness(es):[/b] 

[b]Lamed[/b] - Lem's left leg is lamed from being crushed beneath a dying horse several years ago. He can still walk without too much difficulty or pain, but his running days are long behind him. This gives him a severe disadvantage when fighting on foot.

[b]Common as Muck[/b] - Lem has risen surprisingly high for one born a step above a serf, this does not do him any favours when it comes to negotiating contracts or interacting with members of the nobility, something that might be expected of a commander of a mercenary company.

[b]Illiterate[/b] - Another disadvantage from an administrate and leadership point of view, Lem can barely read or write his own name. While by no means a stupid man, his book learning is almost non-existent. 

[b]Equipment: [/b] 

Lem's armour is drab and mostly somewhat old-fashioned. He could probably afford better with what he has saved up, but he is man who finds comfort in the familiar and the reliable. He wears a coat of iron plates covered by rough brown fabric over a knee length mail hauberk. At shoulder he wears a set of spaulders and mail sleeves extend down his arm to his wrist. Mail mitts sewn to the sleeves can slipped over the hand. He wears vambraces and greaves on his forearms and lower legs, they only cover the outer portion of their respected limbs. His head is covered by a mail coif, on top of which he wears a visored sallet. He wears mail sabatons over leather boots to protect his feet. When out of armour he favours plain woollen fabrics and leather jerkins. 

Lem wears an one handed arming-sword on one hip and a rondel dagger on the other. His sword is plain with a shark skin grip, the blade has a number of nicks in its edge, but still it has been honed razor sharp. His sword is complemented by a wooden heater shield, painted in the colours of the company. When on horseback he often carries a lance and hangs a horseman's hammer from the pommel of his saddle. 

As for the rest of his possessions, Lem has a few more luxuries than the common soldier might expect - a proper camp bed for his tent, a ewer of water to wash with, a mirror with which to shave, a stool to sit upon and a table to eat at. As a leftenant he is afforded the use of two horses, a smoke grey courser called Duchess is his war horse, while for everyday riding he has a chestnut palfrey called Russell.