Name: Varn
Gender: Male
Class: Crossbow Ranger
Race: Human
Description: Varn is the best description of a human in the world he lives in. A few scars from military service, dark, short hair and not too tall or short. He is plain-faced and plain-skinned, having come from a territory inhabited by forests, rich rivers and greedy rulers.
Why you're adventuring with the party: Fortune other than continuing fighting wars. He has little left back home except his loving parents, who insist on running an agricultural business.
Notable skills or equipment: A crossbow marks the booming revolution of faster, cheaper fighting in the lands back home; firm wood starting to wear from use. His protection, aside from humour, is a chestplate and mail elsewhere.
Background: Varn was cattle ever since he was born, that much was known. His village, Hillmouth, farmed and birthed fighters. His parents were also the wealthiest below the lord of the region, not that they were any noble, they just knew food was the most valuable commodity to troops and travellers.
Varn himself learnt a few extra things from this life, mostly from his family attempting to bestow their salesman wisdom onto him. The constant variation of people also taught him how common the average person was, even the wealthy, and what the average desire was.
Of course, a lot of his curiosity waned to familiarity. What was once wonder and learning became labour that got in the way of village life, socialising and impressing the girls. It turned out village life was just as routine, socialising was either very pointless or risky, and girls were just as strong as some of the boys.
Once old enough, Varn was given the choice by his parents to fully leave for a wartime life (volunteering to a standing army was permitted if the fighter paid for their own equipment) or wait until the king called a compulsory army, staying in the village.
The boy took the chance instantly, heading to the capital once outfitted to join under the highest banner.
Three years passed in this hard life until the next war. Varn discovered the reality of being a servant to leaders made cold by their own harsh treatments, never passing a word of mercy when the call for blood was mentioned. He hardly gained insight, he lacked the intelligence to do so, but he certainly had a change of face.
After a large battle allowing the king to usurp an old title and new lands, Varn saw little meaning in his life once again. Every grey sky or dark night he drank under became the same meeting of men who would inevitably march to death.
He considered staying, for different reasons, but convinced himself to break away from his life and desert for his own income, though he made little planning and ended up staying at the nearest tavern after the long walk to nowhere.
Gender: Male
Class: Crossbow Ranger
Race: Human
Description: Varn is the best description of a human in the world he lives in. A few scars from military service, dark, short hair and not too tall or short. He is plain-faced and plain-skinned, having come from a territory inhabited by forests, rich rivers and greedy rulers.
Why you're adventuring with the party: Fortune other than continuing fighting wars. He has little left back home except his loving parents, who insist on running an agricultural business.
Notable skills or equipment: A crossbow marks the booming revolution of faster, cheaper fighting in the lands back home; firm wood starting to wear from use. His protection, aside from humour, is a chestplate and mail elsewhere.
Background: Varn was cattle ever since he was born, that much was known. His village, Hillmouth, farmed and birthed fighters. His parents were also the wealthiest below the lord of the region, not that they were any noble, they just knew food was the most valuable commodity to troops and travellers.
Varn himself learnt a few extra things from this life, mostly from his family attempting to bestow their salesman wisdom onto him. The constant variation of people also taught him how common the average person was, even the wealthy, and what the average desire was.
Of course, a lot of his curiosity waned to familiarity. What was once wonder and learning became labour that got in the way of village life, socialising and impressing the girls. It turned out village life was just as routine, socialising was either very pointless or risky, and girls were just as strong as some of the boys.
Once old enough, Varn was given the choice by his parents to fully leave for a wartime life (volunteering to a standing army was permitted if the fighter paid for their own equipment) or wait until the king called a compulsory army, staying in the village.
The boy took the chance instantly, heading to the capital once outfitted to join under the highest banner.
Three years passed in this hard life until the next war. Varn discovered the reality of being a servant to leaders made cold by their own harsh treatments, never passing a word of mercy when the call for blood was mentioned. He hardly gained insight, he lacked the intelligence to do so, but he certainly had a change of face.
After a large battle allowing the king to usurp an old title and new lands, Varn saw little meaning in his life once again. Every grey sky or dark night he drank under became the same meeting of men who would inevitably march to death.
He considered staying, for different reasons, but convinced himself to break away from his life and desert for his own income, though he made little planning and ended up staying at the nearest tavern after the long walk to nowhere.