[⇹]Name Garret Alester [⇹]Age Twenty-seven [⇹]Gender Male
{⇹}Appearance Gerrett is a man of normal stature, standing at roughly 6 feet and weighing a little over 190lbs. Often, his void-hued hair droops in messy curls to act as a veil obstructing his vision; Inherited from his late Father. His visage consist of light olive skin, embellished with thin pink lips, a rather flat nose, and finished with warm hazel hues; handsome in its own special way. When serving with the Serim Knights, his attire naturally consist of lustrous segments of Seromian crafted plate into sturdy armour. These suits usually lacked lower body armor , as to allow greater mobility. Naturally, an enclosed helm accompanies this. During celebrations and festivals, a highly decorative vestment was worn over top the armour; The knight’s accolades pinned to this.
[⇹]Biography
Garret was the first and only son born to a well-respected Serim Knight. His mother, a seamstress, died whilst giving birth; Which left his father distraught for some time. Gerrett spent most if not all his childhood within the Guild's hall, hearing the revered tales of many a veteran. The Serim are a respected mercenary group; often mistaken for Empire Soldiers, with the innumerable members, Uniform..well..uniforms, combat prowess, and rigid class structure. Not only are they mistaken, but the EOM(Empire of Man) often employs them for high-risk missions. Each member has 'Honor, Duty, and Devotion' instilled into their mind during the rigorous training one must undergo to join.
At around 10 Garrett began as a squire, running small task for his Father and occasionally tagging along with a Clearing Party. Clearing Parties are groups of Serim Knights(of no less than 2 and no more than 5) hired to exterminate monsters from an area. Squires are only allowed to accompany them for missions with little to no threat. The relationship between He and the Knights was good enough for them to -through the Grandmaster's approval- allow him to not only carry a weapon but undergo more dangerous missions. One such mission, a 17 year old Garret and his Father were tasked to clear what was seemingly an easy dungeon. However, upon arrival they discovered a plethora of beast, which they engaged in combat. The battle ends with beasts slain along with his Father; Garret seriously injured. As per tradition, his sword was returned to the guild to be stored amongst the other blades in the 'Hall of Honor'. This encounter inspires Garrett to be a better man, a better Knight for his Father.
Honor. Duty. Devotion. Exactly what they put into Garrett, as he came of age to formally join(that age is 22). The training was fraught with difficulty but through determination, grit, and blood(quite a bit actually), he prevailed. The ceremony for accepted individuals is held within the halls and before the Grandmaster, whom bestows the Knight with his or her armaments. Garrett, upon stepping to pedestal instead received the blade of his late Father,dubbed The Light, which he accepted with teary eyes. Since that day, Garrett has underwent numerous missions and gained renown equal to if not above his father.
[⇹]Fighting Style
The fighting style of the Serim consist of inherently normal sword strikes and movements, but chained with unorthodox movements from the Knight his/herself. Such as rolls, dashes, and the occasional jump. These movements were adopted due to the lack of lower body armor, which allows for exceptional movement.
[⇹]Equipment
⇹10 days rations ⇹Guild allowance of 100 Soverns.(If these come in gold/silver/bronze, then silver is their worth) ⇹2 draughts of healing ⇹Map{acquired before missions, mainly of the mission area} ⇹General Supplies{bedroll, sword cleaning kit, etc}
[⇹]Skills/Abilities
⇹Serim Sword Fighting ⇹Map Reading ⇹Moderate survival experience ⇹Extensive knowledge of other mercenary groups.
Garrett will often shout words of inspiration before a battle, only if with group of course
Name: Hafrbjǫrn Ráðvarðr (Haph-BYORN - RAD-vard) Gender: Male Age: 42
Appearance: Hafrbjǫrn height towers on 215.3 centimeters (7 feet tall). His burly build is the result of a brute lifestyle honed through the art of melding steel and iron, fingers scrapped through the tending of the fields, arms scathed through the clashing of steel and all adorning the flesh which would provide his comrades with the finest of stories. His weight is about 330 pounds and hair of ginger which is only seen at pigment of his beard. He wears his hair bald, yet in exchange his head and arms are branded with the marking of his people. The iris of his eyes are like that of emerald in their hue that blend together nicely with the tan of his skin.
Bio: The third junior of a family of eight, Hafrbjǫrn was the first son of the town's farmer and fisher Hafþór. With two the first sibling being sisters, he was tasked with most of the work and duty as the first male, which came as a boon later in life. Quickly at his teens his stature began to flourish and his physic grew a respectable size for the expansion of the family business. Soon he took up wood working, and much later in his life he began to meld and learn the craft of the steel from the local blacksmith. As such he inevitably found himself selling and repairing weapons and armor to travelers and members of the guild. His life up until adulthood felt simple, and uninspired. The blade always seem to come naturally to him, he would forge his own axe when it came to chopping the bark he needed to feed the flames which would heat his cauldron. He would sharpen the knife to near perfection, when he decided to skin the deer. His hands were drawn to the chisel and anvil, but more over, as a blacksmith, he took it upon himself to learn the sword, the hammer, the spear and axe. If a man would fall at the hands of an animal, bandit or soldier while the blade he forged was at their hand it was because of incompetence out of his part or the soldier.
Yet he could never be knighted, that blood did not run among him. Steel was his body, and fire was his blood. He later found love and married, he had his first child who began to show interest in the guild. Reluctantly, Hafrbjǫrn forged his son his sword and armor, the finest of which he has ever developed. Such craftsmanship could impress the kings and queens of the nations. However, tragedy struck when he was brought the unfortunate news of his son's death. This tore the man, cause him a fit of rage and anger of which he has never understood. Taking the same sword which was made for his son, he went forth and killed the man responsible in a fit of rage. Hafrbjǫrn was jailed, served a hefty sentence and soon after became a shell of the man he once knew. He had an affinity for battle, his body was his armor, flesh like steel honed under years of welding and toning weapons. Someone took notice of such, and blessed him with freedom in exchange for protection. With his fine paid, Hafrbjǫrn began to work as a bodyguard, and he was splendid at it. His brutality and strength were all enough to withstand the skill of those who weren't potent enough to sustain his swing.
Eventually, he decided to join the guild, regaining a inkling of peace and serenity. This somehow reminds him of his son. He is a serene giant for the most part, yet a man of not many words.
Fighting Style: Brutal, fierce without a pause and relentless. His weapons are large like his stature and he has the potency to swing them with ferocity and speed. He's proficient with a bow and arrow and terrible with anything magic. He's the perfect example of a brute.
Equipment:
Weapons:
Two small axes: One for each hand holstered on his side. They are made of the finest steel he could find.
Large Axe: His main weapon of choice. It would take the average man two hands to wield, but Hafrbjǫrn can easily wield it with one.
Carving knife: Although not particularly a weapon. He carries it around almost like a bad habit.
Weapon Savant: Anything he picks up he can use with ease, although not necessarily with a mastery of an art. As a blacksmith, he hold extensive knowledge of weaponry.
Survivalist
Cold Resistant: He lived majority of his life in snow, he can withstand cold weathers with much more ease than other. (Not particularly any ice spells though.)
Other Information:
1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it. 2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules 3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC 4. Be civilized and polite please 5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed. 6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in. 7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them. 8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts. 9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC
@Sync everything looks good on my end I'll accept. Welcome aboard.
@Athol hey hey let's leave politics out of this. That's like a huge red flag subject. People get sooo touchy about them.
@HowlsOfWinter you would have something like 40 minutes to recover after Gwen did her stuff before All and Allant would return. Then there is like five minutes after they get back.
Pox is taking Yui's advice and covering the rear. He'll of course go about casting his 'blessings' if Gwen has another idea. But of course, that would require another post. Something I may not be able to do until sunday.
