Name: Barden

Age: 31

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Class: Ranger

Appearance: 
[img]http://i1150.photobucket.com/albums/o614/ravoss1/aragorn_by_sakimichan-d4g3uxd_zpsb66961b0.jpg[/img]

Weapon(s):
[*] A simple, yet well crafted Elvish short bow. The bow itself is made of Blackwood, a rare, durable wood from the Blackwood trees, a known Elvish territory in the lands Barden resides. The bow was a gift from a friend and lover upon his leaving. The bow reaches about three feet in length and has a higher tension on the string than usual helping to give a better shot when fired. Barden has to carry the bow unstrung to save it's effectiveness.

[*] A simple straight-blade long-sword. The hilt (hand-grip) of the sword is longer than that of an average sword of it's type with enough space for about three adult-human sized hands. This is probably just a decorative choice, something human blacksmiths have began to imitate from the Elves (although an elvish hand-grip would be much longer). The blade however is nothing special, a moderately sharp blade with a round top leading to a point. The leather wrap on the hilt is a deep brown in color and from a distance could be mistaken for black. The hand guard is also nothing special with no ornate decorations, just for practicality reasons. Barden picked the sword up cheap before he entered the Drakenwald. The blade is narrow and reaches four feet from the steel cross guard to the very tip. Designed to give the wielder a greater combination of strength, reach and quickness, many would say that this is the sword of a warrior, rather than a ranger. However, Barden finds that it suits him.

Armor:
Clad in a fine linen shirt with delicate embroidery; likely made in Blackwood. He also wears dark woolen hose and tall soft boots that are made of travel-worn leather. Over his shirt Barden wears a sleeveless jerkin, made secure by braided cord ties and over this a coat of thicker and stronger leather, its sleeves are stitched along the underside of their lengths and also at the shoulders. This would have made it possible for the sleeves to be removed if needed. Barden also carries with him a medium-grey cloak and when it is not needed it is rolled up and carried upon his back.

Personal Trinkets: 
Barden does not carry any personal trinkets, rather his bow has meaning to him.

Short History:
Barden was born in a land separated by sea from that where the Drakenwald resides. Born in a fishing village, Barden's father was a fisherman and his mother a fishmonger. Shortly after Barden turned sixteen, the village was attacked by a raiding band made up of Greenskin Orc's and Human's from the East with skin as black as night. It was like nothing anyone had ever seen before and without even a militia man to defend the village it was quickly leveled to the ground by the raiders.

Luckily, Barden had not been in the village at the time but when he returned was devastated to see all he knew of the World to be gone and his parents bodies strewn across their house like rag-dolls. Fleeing the ruins of the village, Barden came across a group of Rangers, travelling protectors of these lands. Having heard his story, they took him on and trained him as one of them, making him a brother.

At age twenty-one, Barden laid eyes on his first ever Elvish-maiden and it was love at first sight. However all was not well. When word of this got to the Elvish prince who was a King of sorts in Blackwood, Barden was run out of not only the forests but the lands altogether. This was not before he could receive a final gift from his maiden, a fine linen shirt and an Elvish short-bow, both of which he keeps on his person to this day. Taking to the seas, at the age of twenty-four, the last time Barden saw his homeland was from the stern of a ship, headed for riches. The journey took weeks, in this time Barden had encountered a number of harpies, mermaids and of course, pirates. The ship and its crew had survived almost everything the sea could throw at it. Yet, on one faithful night, the ocean brought up a wave like no one on the ship, even the most veteran sailors had seen before. Cries of harpies could be heard during the storm and the last thing Barden remembers of that night was the wave, inches from devouring the ship, hovering over him like a majestic bird.

Awakening on a beach, on an unknown land, with no food or water, other than that of the sea, Barden rummaged the wreckage of the ship for anything that was his. Departing the dearly departed, he made his way inland, in search of a new life. Years passed and Barden lived off the land, making the odd stop in towns and villages when need be, protecting travelers and caravans from bandits and creatures with sword and bow, appearing from the trees at the most unexpected of times and sometimes not at all. On occasion all that would be seen of the ranger was a flurry of black-shafted arrows, piercing the evil-do'er over and over again, and then silence.

At age thirty, while trying to get away from a particularly unhappy group of raiders whom Barden had foiled their plans, he found himself run into the depths of the Drakenwald. It has been a year since Barden entered the damned forest, but it has been kind to him, in the sense where it has not yet killed him or driven him mad...

Other:
None