Sorin unlike many others that he had joined in the great wars of the east was not what many would call a ‘blood thirsty killer’. His life before the wars was as a simple religious man that worked the fields along with his own family, the call to arms was taken up by his 2 brothers along with himself, driving them into 6 years of hell, blood, and death. But all was not lost to Sorin, in this turmoil he found faith that many thought impossible in a war, this gift was what lead him to follow another man even after the wars were over. Kylen was one of only a few that Sorin could trust in a fight, he would stand and fight the fiercest of foes and against the greatest of odds, so long as it was at Kylens side; the man had a way of keeping those around him inspired and enabling them to great feats. So it was that when the wars were over and Kylen offered him a chance to return with him Sorin accepted the offer as quickly as he could.
The lands around the duchy of Udall were bad to say the least, the field gone from years of being untended, the roads falling away and the locals were less then friendly to say the least. But still Kylen call it home so Sorin walked his horse along towards the meeting locating, a tavern called the ‘black briar’. Entering the building Sorin felt the uneasy of the locals, and meet their eyes with a simple nod before moving out to the back room where he sat waiting for the others to arrive. Taking his seat at the seat to the heads left Sorin leaned back and began to relax.
Having been glad that his full length brown cloak covered not only his armour and weapons but also his face, he shifted uneasily trying to find a place where his two short swords didn't press into his back before deciding to simple remove the cloak. Undoing the string holding the cloak around his neck caused in to fall away showing a full set of light scale armour, its metal disks attached to a light leather body armour, along with his wrist bracers and wide double belt. The hilt of his two short sword freed from the cloak were able to be see sticking just above his shoulder, the guard of each held a strange symbol of a star with a small tree inside, along the blade of each was an inscription reading “truth to the blade, truth to yourself”. Even as the cloak fell away Sorins amulet which had been entangled in the cord fell once more to its resting place against his chest, this amulet was the same design as was on the hilts of his swords, he reached up and ran a finger over each line of the design before seeing his old friend walk in.
The night started slow even with the excitement that came from Kylen greeting his old friend, then came the stories some clearly made up others held truth from what he could tell. The food was probably the best feed he had eaten in many weeks, but the wenches were not what he had expected; though their company was welcome more than many would know Sorin did not take their companionship that night, the weeks on the road wearing too much on him. By the time half the night had past, Sorin was well into his eighth drink and well beyond tired, with the aid of one of the girls the tavern owner had given the party he managed to reach a room where he was asleep even before his head hit the hard pillow.