Post by Deleted on Jul 25, 2018 12:40:10 GMT
"You know... It's odd, aye. To be sitting there in Keldor's tavern, listening t'the stories of folk I barely recognize and to feel no relation, no understanding. I've no idea where I come from, save that I woke up in the plains near this settlement. Can't remember much, wish I could. Do you understand what I'm tryin' to say? Maybe it's why I'm so transient, can't fit in, don't belong, don't understand. Still, bein' a wanderer ain't so bad. Might give me answers, or closure at least."
Sang, as he is know to the denizens of Vrystoria, stands at 5'9, a figure of mesomorphic build, muscular and rugged with a certain angular nature to his face. Scarred, battered and often bruised, hefting a large axe over his shoulders, the man opts to play the role of some kind of wandering warrior; trading his arms for rewards or shelter as the case may be. A mellow, cheery sort on most occasions, though one clearly developing a frustration for his lack of understanding when it comes to Vrystoria and it's worldly affairs. You can look the man in the eye and he'll smile, yet if you are unlucky enough to notice, one might see the faintest, haunting flicker of a hunger behind those eyes, a hunger not often present in most cases. One often over-looks such on behalf of his rapidly growing skill with the axe he so flippantly hefts around. A traveler, yes, godless and without purpose.
"Let me ask you this, lad. You ever stared down the abyss?"
That gaze seems haunted by something. Not that one would know, not that he would either. Since arriving in Vrystoria, seeking answers has been his prime goal. so far nothing has turned up, save for a growing question for this figures of power like Hestlin. Perhaps because he knows nothing of them, seems the logical assumption for a godless figure. Regardless, the first one into a fight and often the last one out, Sang has a tendency to survive often where people doubt he would, even if it takes days for the man to return, he does. But if there was one thing anyone could notice, it's his distinct lack of care for those of faith, within Keldor at least. Strange, but then..
"When you've seen what I've seen, lad, it always stares back. Trouble is, I can't remember."
So, searching for answers and trading in hands for rewards, this is the life of Sang Mhorvein, a transient wanderer, one out of place with the world, out of touch, and with no recollection of home. A pity.
"Anyway, next round is on me, aye? always loved mead."
Sang, as he is know to the denizens of Vrystoria, stands at 5'9, a figure of mesomorphic build, muscular and rugged with a certain angular nature to his face. Scarred, battered and often bruised, hefting a large axe over his shoulders, the man opts to play the role of some kind of wandering warrior; trading his arms for rewards or shelter as the case may be. A mellow, cheery sort on most occasions, though one clearly developing a frustration for his lack of understanding when it comes to Vrystoria and it's worldly affairs. You can look the man in the eye and he'll smile, yet if you are unlucky enough to notice, one might see the faintest, haunting flicker of a hunger behind those eyes, a hunger not often present in most cases. One often over-looks such on behalf of his rapidly growing skill with the axe he so flippantly hefts around. A traveler, yes, godless and without purpose.
"Let me ask you this, lad. You ever stared down the abyss?"
That gaze seems haunted by something. Not that one would know, not that he would either. Since arriving in Vrystoria, seeking answers has been his prime goal. so far nothing has turned up, save for a growing question for this figures of power like Hestlin. Perhaps because he knows nothing of them, seems the logical assumption for a godless figure. Regardless, the first one into a fight and often the last one out, Sang has a tendency to survive often where people doubt he would, even if it takes days for the man to return, he does. But if there was one thing anyone could notice, it's his distinct lack of care for those of faith, within Keldor at least. Strange, but then..
"When you've seen what I've seen, lad, it always stares back. Trouble is, I can't remember."
So, searching for answers and trading in hands for rewards, this is the life of Sang Mhorvein, a transient wanderer, one out of place with the world, out of touch, and with no recollection of home. A pity.
"Anyway, next round is on me, aye? always loved mead."