[hider=Horath Evren Al'Montsar]
[center][img]http://img00.deviantart.net/34cc/i/2012/339/2/5/untitle_by_achillesliu-d5n4s4a.jpg[/img]
[hider=In Full Battle Regalia][img]http://web.archive.org/web/20140110185306im_/http://www.free-hdwallpapers.com/wallpapers/abstract/7724.jpg[/img][/hider]
[i][color=red]'Come, I know you are tired, but this is the way.'[/color][/i]

[i]Horath is of average height, coming at 6'0'', or 183 centimetres. He weighs at 80 kilograms.
He has some minor scars on his arms and chest, earned honourably in the line of duty. The most prominent is a long scar from his right shoulder down to beneath his left arm pit, where he was seriously injured by a band of raiders from the Sultanate while out patrolling Redsand with a comrade. Another of his more serious scars is a large brand mark in his left side where he had been stabbed by an assassin, before the wound was seared closed. 
His physique is ectomorphic, and his muscles are small and built for speed and power rather than brute strength. He is rather flexible, though not unnaturally so. His hair is shoulder-length and light brown in colour, though in the sunlight it develops a red sheen. His beard is large enough to cover his face completely, but not quite long enough to be gripped. 
His eyes are hazel, leaning more towards brown and shine almost yellow in sunlight. His skin tone is unusually dark for a man from Broacien, betraying the southern blood mixed with his Broacienian, coming at a light olive though transitions to darker or lighter shades depending on exposure to sunlight.

Before going on his first patrol, Horath preferred to wear very light leather armour which allows for greater freedom of movement. He rarely wore heavier armour, as he saw it as a hindrance. However, after being seriously injured, and having a near death experience, he came to realise the value of armour.

He is now rarely found on duty without his full-plate armour, under which can be found a long shirt of [URL=http://www.swordsknivesanddaggers.com//swords-knives-daggers/skd-butted-chainmail-as-cm.jpg]chain mail[/URL]. Beneath his chainmail, Horath has a special [URL=http://www.lawranceordnance.com/the_sharpened_edge/armour_european/images/gdfb_gambeson_archers/gambeson.jpg]gambeson[/URL] which he bought especially for himself, unlike normal gambesons it has four layers of quilted wool rather than two, and the normal two layers of cotton. While plate armour is surprisingly light, this gambeson does add to his weight slightly. The extra defence, he believes, is worth it. Beneath the gambeson, Horath wears a [URL=http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2012/113/a/d/celtic_tunic_brown_by_robyngoodfellow-d4xak58.jpg]tunic[/URL] he inherited from his father, which also happens to be the finest tunic he has. 

He also has a [URL=http://www.polyvore.com/cgi/img-thing?.out=jpg&size=l&tid=20130538]leather breast plate[/URL], which he dons on less formal occasions, particularly when going about his life off duty. 
On other occasions, he can be found wearing his tunic, black cotton [URL=http://www.medieval-weaponry.co.uk/acatalog/GB3821-thumb.jpg]trousers[/URL], and mid-calf length dark brown [URL=http://www.medieval-weaponry.co.uk/acatalog/GB1165-1000.jpg]boots[/URL], light and easy to move around in.[/i][/center]


[indent]【[U]Full Name[/U]】

[indent][I]Horath Evren Al'Montsar[/I][/indent]

【[U]Aliases[/U]】

[indent][I]He has been called; 'The Prude', 'That Prick', 'Sawarim Filth', 'Ketter', 'The One Touched by the Monarch'[/I][/indent]

【[U]Age[/U]】

[indent][I]27 Years[/I][/indent]

【[U]Sex[/U]】

[indent][I]Male[/I][/indent]

【[U]Sexuality[/U]】

[indent][I]Heterosexual - strongly against any form of pre-marital sexual activity[/I][/indent]

【[U]Religion[/U]】

[indent][i]Monarchist[/i][/indent]

【[U]Family[/U]】

[indent][i]Evren Trejik Al'Montsar [Father - deceased - Monarchist]
Arya Qutuz Al'Montsar, [i]Arya bint Qutuz[/i] [Mother - alive - Sawarim]
Relnora Jarod Al'Montsar, [i]Relnora Jarod Farosa[/i] [Wife - deceased - Monarchist]
Arya Horath Al'Montsar [Daughter - deceased - Monarchist]
Rejys Evren Al'Montsar [Brother - alive - Monarchist]
Tarflin Evren Al'Montsar [Brother - alive - Monarchist]
Aemon (aka Ayman) Evren Al'Montsar [Brother - alive - Sawarim]
Argus Evren Al'Montsar [Brother - alive - Monarchist]
Eckard Evren Al'Montsar [Brother - alive - Monarchist]
Gwanvr Evren Al'Montsar [Sister - alive - Sawarim]
Awfiyaa Evren Al'Montsar [Sister - alive - Sawarim]
Ruqayya Evren Al'Montsar [Sister - alive - Sawarim]
[/i][/indent]

【[U]Birthplace[/U]】

[indent][i]Coedwin[/i][/indent]

【[U]Societal standing[/U]】

[indent][i]Highborn; largely raised and identifies as a Lowborn; has blood relations to nobility; son of an infidel, foreign mother[/i][/indent]

【[U]Former employment[/U]】

[indent][i]Knight of the Most Holy Order of the Servants[/i][/indent]

【[U]Rank and role[/U]】

[indent][i]Lieutenant to the Most Honourable Lord-Captain Nikolas Medved [/i][/indent]

[centre]***[/centre]

【[U]Personality[/U]】

[indent][i]Horath Evren Al'Montsar is a relic of a lost age - an age which may have only ever existed in legend. He is an extremely idealistic man, and a perfectionist to an extent. He believes that all in power should strive to create worthy nations which serve the people and the faith - nations which do not judge one upon the blood which runs through their veins or their religion and background, but on their merits. 

He also believes that all should strive to change the way things work, that the class system should not be a cause for anyone - rich or poor - to suffer. His encounters with slaves and former-slaves have only caused his strong feelings against slavery and the rigidity of the class system to increase. He strongly believes that what his nation needs is a far more proactive king; one who would not fear the seemingly powerful class of nobles and would dare to bring about change - was it not the peasant who created Broacien? Should it not be the case, then, that the peasant be just as honoured as those who do not toil and live in tall and lofty castles just because their blood is blue?

Horath has some strongly held beliefs, and he honestly thinks his nation is on the brink of collapsing, he grew up among the poor, and he saw the great detachment the normal citizen had from the nation - their patriotism is slowly, but surely, being sucked away, kept in place only by fear of those beyond their borders. 

Horath’s idealistic perception of how society should be - and how he should be - adds to his ability to draw people to him, and many of his comrades are usually in awe of the things he does, even if he does not notice. The things he does, his unusual acts of kindness, his angry speeches in the villages he passed through as a Preacher-Knight of the Servants, sometimes in disapproval for not acting as the Monarch would wish, other times promoting fairness and justice in the way villagers should deal with each other, among others, only increased respect for him. For to most of these people, such things have become foreign and unheard of, but they are instinctively drawn to them and cannot help but be enamored by such ideologies. After all, the priests have grown lazy and corrupt, many of his fellow Servants hated him for his suffocating 'purity' and ended up plotting against him and forcing him out of the Order eventually (surely he was simply hiding his true darkness beneath all that!) and all in all, the very concept of justice and fairness appears to be one only tossed around by bards in taverns when others are too drunk to be listening. 

As a child of a noble who abandoned nobility and a Sawarim woman, it is not surprising that his personality would be far different from that of others, and his worldview is certainly unusual. He was always drawn to his mother's talk of equality and how all believers, no matter their rank, were brothers. The slave and the king were not better or worse than each other, it was faith and piety which truly dictated ones ranks and status with the divine. 

Between his mother's attempts to keep him on the faith of her people and his father's attempts at countering her, the church becoming almost a second home to Horath as he grew up, Horath naturally grew into a very religious young man, finding in both faiths more similarities than either his parents did. His personal morality, even when compared to that of his siblings, is on a level completely of its own. Strong-willed and moralistic, he likes those who are also strong-willed and with a well developed sense of morality. 

However, this can mean that he tends to expect too much, thinking that everyone should stand up for justice no matter what. He expects everyone to have a strong moral code and expects those who lead him to be the finest of men, and those he leads to be the bravest of souls. While many people who have come across him have taken him for a prim and proper prude, he is not as inflexible as he may appear at first, and his years with the Servants have certainly revealed to him just how depraved people can become. If anything, he has become slightly disillusioned with the religious classes.

Horath loves victory well-earned and respects those who display both strength and intelligence, and it is not unusual for him to challenge one he deems worthy to a sparring session with both sword and tongue ([i][color=red]'My old man did always tell me I would have been better off a librarian...'[/color][/i])
Strangely, Horath also likes listening to bawdy tales of heroes past and present, and of valor shown in battle, especially by those he leads and those he is led by, though he has been given strange looks on the few occasions he has let slip an utterance of something almost respectful about a tale of valor shown by enemies in far off lands and battlefields. 

A strong believer in discipline, Horath expects it from himself and from his comrades - nothing irks him more than seeing a disorganised force of peasants being marched off to certain doom. More so than that, nothing irks him quite like a trained soldier, knight or captain of the kingdom acting in such a manner. The peasant cannot be blamed, but what of those who have received training and years of experience?[/i][/indent]  

【[U]History[/U]】

[indent][i]Horath did not grow up in a rich family, and he did not grow up in a poor family either. His was a family rich enough not to be poor and poor enough not to be rich, one of those hanging on the brink of poverty, managing to hold on only due to parents who knew their duties and a father who knew what to do. In Horath’s case, his father, Evren Trejik Al'Montsar, was an intelligent and quick-witted man. Evren worked as a weapon-smith in one of the poorer neighbourhoods of Coedwin - one of the larger settlements in Broacien and worthy of being called a city. Had Evren not had six sons and three daughters to care for, the amount he earned would have been more than enough to feed him, his wife and another four children. But fate had not been kind to the youngest son of the Lord Trejik Sjordin Montsar, lord of the medium sized fortress of Romgard and the nearby town of Romnir, located in southern Grosswick. 

After his father died, having not declared a heir, his three older brothers began fighting over who would inherit the land, and in the struggle between the three, Evren found that he had no power, authority or support to attempt a claim. So the nineteen year old Evren gathered up what books and tomes he could (raiding his father's sizeable library) and left his family to their infighting, setting out in search of his own destiny. He did not need to live on the blood of his father, he would carve out his life and live as he wished, on his own sweat and toil.

After being apprenticed to a weapon-smith (he refused to use any skills he had gained as a noble) and becoming quite proficient in the trade, he had his own smithy built in one of the poorer neighbourhoods of Coedwin, where there were no other smiths who could compete with him. And so he prospered providing the poor of the neighbourhood with cheaper metal-working services than those further off. Even when he met the woman he would go on to marry, life continued as normal. It was only after they had nine children and age was beginning to catch up with him that Evren began to suffer financially. 

When his two eldest sons requested he apprentice them, for the betterment of the family and so they could learn a worthy trade, he refused. No son of his would be a smith, they must - each one of them - find a trade greater than his. They had to grow in the land, so that each and every one of his sons may help the other and not fall prey to quarrels between siblings, and never let family members to suffer poverty. The family was above all, loyalty to it and the advancement of ones own was a duty and goal in life.
Evren’s three daughters were raised largely by their mother who had more influence over them than their father, resulting in all three turning to the Sawarim faith once they were old enough to decide. Nevertheless, Evren made each of his sons pledge to always help, care for, and protect their sisters ([b][i]They are our family's pride and dignity. If they are brought low and mistreated, then the family has most certainly been slighted and dishonoured greatly.[/i][/b])

Horath was the youngest child, and even though both his mother and father loved him most of all, they went to great lengths to ensure their love for him did not affect him negatively. Evren had sworn that not a single one of his children would grow a a spoilt brat, no matter how much he wanted to dote on them and give them all they wanted. Instead, Evren taught Horath to read and write, and was more strict with him than he was with any of Horath’s siblings. His mother doubled her efforts to bring him into the fold of Sawarim, and his father taught him all he could of Monarchism. Further, he made him read the many books and tomes he had taken with him long ago. From a young age, Horath read on history, philosophy and war. His father was adamant to pass on all he could to at least one of his sons, he would do anything which could benefit him become high in this world and thus lift the family up as a whole. All the books and tomes which Evren had are now Horath's property, handed down to Horath in Evren's will. 

Under his mother and father’s strict upbringing, Horath developed a good mind, showing he was more than capable of understanding complex ideas and capable of taking in and adapting the sometimes contradictory beliefs of his parents. However his father also ensured that Horath grew up strong of body as well as mind. He allowed Horath alone - out of all his children - to help in the smithy. For Horath’s sake, Evren even broke the pledge he had made when he left his family and taught Horath how to use a sword, and how to ride a horse, going that extra bit more to take him to one of the stables in the city and renting a horse for training. It broke the budget, but it was a worthy investment in Evren's eyes. While his father's skills with horse and sword had become rusty, Horath was a quick learner and benefited greatly.

As well as Evren tried to bring his son up, he may have gone a bit too far in instilling in him idealism and perfectionism, creating in Horath expectations from people which are simply beyond a normal person's capabilities. Further, his strong sense of morality has made it so that when he believes one has done wrong he would go to no end to punish them somehow - the Monarch does not like those who are wrongdoers! Forgiveness, even though both his mother and father tried to show him its importance, never did quite sink in. Those who do wrong, who cause suffering and chaos in the land  and delight in such, who commit crimes against the divine, must be punished severely and without mercy ([color=ed1c24][i]Let there be no mercy for the merciless.[/i][/color])

By the age of eighteen, Horath was a fine young man; strong, intelligent, and with skills that called out for a military life in the service of the divine. He could not have been in a better place, his birthplace was host to the barracks of the Servants. Evren showed neither approval nor disapproval for Horath’s choice to join the Servants, even though inside he was proud that his son had chosen this route, for it was indeed a route of power, a route - for those who were brave enough - which could lead to endless possibilities. Taking the oath of Diligence, the oath of Virtue and the oath of Honour, Horath joined the ranks of the Monarch's faithful

Horath was a toughened young man who could endure much - he had to be to keep up with his father’s pace in the smithy, but even so, the two years of training he underwent with the Servants (due to having no previous military experience) always left him exhausted, with no thought more prevalent than to rest. He was however, one of the luckier men, for he broke no bones and received no serious wounds, compared to others who lost their lives or became forever crippled, Horath could not help the sense of pride and accomplishment he felt.

At twenty-one, he was sent out on patrol with Gardeel - an older man who had earned Horath's respect and was considered the closest of friends. It was on this first patrol that he received the lethal blow which cut him from right shoulder to just beneath his left arm pit. Gardeel and he were ambushed by a group of ten Sawarim raiders, out to steal the armour and weapons of any soldiers passing by, and perhaps taking some able-bodied slaves back home. Both Horath and Gardeel fought bravely, striking down two of the ten, Horath killing one and Gardeel killing another and possibly crippling a third. But they were far outnumbered, even if there had been another two of them it would have been a lost battle. Gardeel fell dead to a blow from one of the bigger raiders, his throat ripped out by a savagely jagged scimitar. Horath charged the huge man, only to be struck the deadly blow by the longer sword, which easily ripped through his light leather armour.

As Horath's armour was destroyed, and his sword was not worth stealing, and he appeared dead, the raiders left him for dead, not even bothering to check if he was still breathing. They stripped Gardeel of his armour and took off with Horath and Gardeel’s horses. Had he not been used to pain and enduring no matter what, and having a will to survive like none other, Horath would have died that day, but he managed to crawl and limp his way back to Coedwin. There he received medical attention, and despite the terrible medical advancement in Broacien, a combination of medicinal knowledge from the Sultanate and Horath's own will, he managed to survive. 

It took a few months for them to allow him to go back to his duties, but when he did, he had a new coldness about him. He was a man who had come back from the dead, he had felt death’s icy fingers around his heart, he was not going to let it happen again, there was too much he needed to do, too much his father expected from him and too much he expected from himself. He loved the Monarch much, but it was not yet time for him to be reunited with the divine.

Evren Trejik Al'Montsar had died while Horath was recovering, leaving in his will for Horath all his books and tomes - which had been delivered to Horath’s quarters in the barracks. It was after this saddening blow to his morale that Horath discovered the flute. The first time he heard it, he had been wallowing in misery, standing on the walls of Coedwin, contemplating life, death and the reason behind all this suffering. That was when the soft sounds reached his ears, touching his grieving heart. Outside, sitting by a boulder, a figure - with nothing distinguishable but its long red hair - sat playing the flute. 

Without sparing a thought for whether this was a trap or not, Horath ran down. He was afraid that maybe if he did not run fast enough the apparition might disappear. When he arrived, she was still there - for it was a woman, the most beautiful he had ever seen. He stared at her for a long time, listening to the heartfelt melody, and drinking in the beauty of this creature.

When she finally stopped, and opened her eyes, Horath was sat before her, a dreamy look in his eyes.
[I][COLOR=Red]'That was beautiful,'[/COLOR][/I] he told her, [I][COLOR=Red]'just like you.'[/COLOR][/I] This caused the woman’s fair skin tone to turn a slight pink.
'T-thank you,' she stuttered, and her voice sent his heart flying.
[I][COLOR=Red]'What is your name?'[/COLOR][/I] he asked gingerly, at which she frowned slightly, then shook her head.
'I cannot say,' she whispered softly, lowering her gaze, 'it is inappropriate.'

[I][COLOR=Red]'Will you not tell a foolish boy the name of this most honoured and beautiful lady?'[/COLOR][/I] he asked, wishing he could reach out and caress her face. Seeing the intent in his eyes, she shook her head and stood up. Horath understood. Walking away slowly, she turned around when she reached a leaning palm tree, seeing Horath’s expression of determination.
[I][COLOR=Red]'I care not what man you are promised to, you will be mine. [b]That[/b] is a promise.'[/COLOR][/I] he said it with fire in his eyes, and a truthfulness she could almost taste.
'Hmm,' she murmured, a slight smile on her face, this was certainly a intriguing young man, 'it is a promise then,' she looked at the flute in her hand, then held it out to him.
[I][COLOR=Red]'Your...'[/COLOR][/I] he looked at it for a while, [I][COLOR=Red]'what is it?'[/COLOR][/I] he asked, realising that he didn't know what it was. 

'It's a flute,' she laughed (that was certainly different from the annoying giggles other young women seemed to let off,) and walked towards him, 'an instrument which plays the most beautiful music, you just blow into it.' Horath looked at it with wide-eyed awe.
[I][COLOR=Red]'You're giving it to me?'[/COLOR][/I] he questioned, uncertainty back in his eyes.
'No,' she said conspiratorially, 'I'm letting you borrow it,' she smiled, and to Horath there could not have been a more beautiful sight. 
He took it from her and she continued. 
'I expect it back when you fulfill your promise,' with that she walked past him and up the the path towards the city.
He looked down at the flute, and upon it, carved into the wood in intricate writing, were the words [i]Relnora Jarod Farosa[/i].
[I][COLOR=red]'Relnora Jarod Farosa,'[/COLOR][/I] he murmured to himself.

A few weeks passed, and Horath did not see Relnora. She stalked his every waking moment and haunted his dreams in every second of sleep. He sometimes wondered if she was indeed nothing but an apparition, but the flute left no doubt that she was as real as the air he breathed. However, he did not have much time to pursue the strange woman who had stolen his heart and given him the flute.

He was sent out on many more patrols. It was soon discovered that the same raiders who had killed Gardeel had a base within Broacienian territory and a force of Servants was sent to destroy the infidel threat. A major battle ensued, where Horath's division of Servants charged the hideout of the raiders. The Head Brother, the Servant leading the company, was killed by that same huge man who had killed Gardeel. Horath rose up to fill the gap left by the Head Brother without realising, leading the charge which crippled the bandits, and killing the razor-sword wielding man himself. With their leader down, the rest of the raiders soon surrendered, and both Horath and the division returned victorious to Coedwin, returning with the imprisoned survivors and much loot which the raiders had been hoarding. After hearing of his heroic victory, word came down from above to promote the still twenty-one year old Horath to a Head Brother. 

Not a week after that, the Sultanate-Broacien War of 121 P.B. began, and Horath found himself on the march once more, this time along with a mighty army of Broacien to stop the sultan's horde. While Horath had no doubts about his own faith (as much as others liked to cast doubts), he did not enjoy killing those whose blood ran through his veins, those who were on the religion of his mother and some of his siblings. He found the joy with which some of the Servants marched to kill their 'foes' rather disturbing. He only marched to protect the land he called home, he felt no joy at killing those who lived across the border, in a place he could quite possibly call home too.

Victory was swift and brutal. A few skirmishes took place between Broacienian and Sultanate forces before the main army of the Sultanate was led into the Gulley of Caprin where the infantry took on the invaders. Horath, on the command of higher-ups, led his company into the unprotected behind of the enemy, while two other division attacked the left and right flanks. Disgusted by the slaughter the battle quickly degenerated into, Horath ordered his company to withdraw, thus allowing the defeated enemy a route for retreat. When questioned by his fellow Head Brothers on why he did as he did, Horath managed to explain himself by quoting the divine book. It did not endear him to those higher up, however, and he is certain it stalled any promotions coming his way.

[centre][color=ed1c24][i]'And who is better than one who watches his foe fall/
And with greatest honour, extends forth a hand of help and of support/
Such are the believers, with dignity and mercy great as the mountain tall.'[/i][/color][/centre]

After that, Horath was given some time off duty and decided to find Relnora. He soon discovered that there were among his fellow Servants those who were very...adept...at finding those of the fairer sex. Relnora's father could not be any more shocked when Horath showed up at his door, flanked by his mother and two eldest brothers, asking for his daughter's hand in marriage. It turned out that Relnora was in fact promised to a son of one of Coedwin's lower noble families. It took much convincing, but eventually it was agreed that Horath, a Head Brother of the Servants and with noble Montsar blood running through his veins, was a worthy addition to the Farosa family. A duel took place between Horath and his rival for Relnora's hand, and Horath emerged victorious. While both the Al'Montsars and the Farosas incurred the wrath of the Sjarfins, there was little a family of the lower nobility could do against the the Farosas and Al'Montsars (which had become quite the force, just as Evren always wished.)

The marriage took place, and for five years Horath lived a blissful life, his wife was intelligent and delightful, he doted on her on the occasions he returned from duties abroad, and loved her more than could be imagined. As a Knight of the Servants, he became very well traveled. Though he was mainly sent to the Sultanate, he did venture to Cherwin on the odd occasion.

However, in 126 P.B. a plot was set into motion to bring down the now rather influential Horath, who had risen high within the ranks of the Servants in a relatively short time, and his strange ideas were beginning to raise some eyebrows.

A group of assassins infiltrated Coedwin and targeted a few figures in the city, some little-known nobles, a few merchants, and Horath who was off-duty. Sleeping with his wife, their two year old daughter between them (she had been named Arwa after Horath's mother), the sleeping family had no reason to suspect anything. It was simply another night. When their door was kicked down and the glass windows of their small home were shattered, Horath immediately awoke. It was not until the bedroom door was kicked down that Relnora and Arwa awoke, Horath having jumped out of bed and reached for the huge Monarchist Cross hanging on their wall. It was unwieldy, but his weapons were not in the room. 

When the door crashed down, the first assassin found himself bashed in the stomach with the rounded end of the cross, its spikes tearing into him slightly. Horath could see there were three figures outside. Managing to kick his first victim between the thighs, sending him to his knees, Horath threw the cross at the second, which hit him straight in the face.
[color=ed1c24][i]'By the Monarch! I will have you all!'[/i][/color] Horath roared before leaping upon the third and they wrestled each other to the floor. As Horath and the assassin punched, bit and scratched at each other, a piercing scream rose up.

'Not my daughter, no!' it was Relnora's voice. Seeing red, Horath roared and headbutted his opponent before getting up and stamping on the assassin's face twice. Even barefooted, the result was horrific. Turning back to the bedroom, he found that the other two had recovered and were upon his family. One was bleeding profusely from his face and grinned madly at Horath as he held Relnora before him, one of his hands groping her while the other held a wicked blade to her throat. The other was holding a sobbing Arwa by her hair. Feeling helpless, Horath took a step forward.

'You might want to stay where you are, unless you want your precious family to be dead,' even in his state of rage and fear, Horath could not help but note that despite the man's style of dress suggesting he was from the Sultanate, he spoke the language Broacienian oddly proficiently, and without the accent his mother always had.

[color=ed1c24][i]'Who are you? Who sent you? You fiends!'[/i][/color] Horath spat angrily.
'You have made some powerful enemies, my friend,' the one holding Arwa said. With that, he slashed the little girls throat and charged Horath.
'Such a shame, would've been nice to spend some time with you...' the other said as he delivered a savage slash to Relnora's throat and joined his comrade's charge. Roaring with anguish and rage, Horath rushed forward to meet the charge. His opponents were ready, however. While one was sent flying by Horath's right fist, leaving a trail of blood and teeth in the air before landing at the foot of the bed, completely unconscious, the other managed to deliver a stab to Horath's side, causing him to shout in pain. Before Horath could turn on him, he was past him and out the door. Horath did not watch him run off and limped to his wife and child instead, holding his side.

[color=ed1c24][i]'Oh my Lord, no no no,[/i][/color]' he wept as he brought his wife into his arms, placing his hand on her neck to stop the flowing blood as though that would prevent death from taking her. She looked at him, pain and tears in her eyes.
[i][color=ed1c24]'I love you,'[/color][/i] he sobbed, though it felt hollow and worthless. She smiled slightly and nodded, and he placed a gentle kiss on her  forehead, his tears landing on her fair skin. Her arms wrapped around him and his arms tightened around her and their living lips met for the final time. And her's slowly lost life and her chest was still.

Placing her down gently on the bed, he looked down upon Arwa, she was taking quick, shallow breaths, tears in her eyes. She looked at him and reached out.
'Papa,' she managed, 'ma-mama,' he brought her to him, picking her up and hugging her to his chest, his lips caressing her forehead and cheeks, her blood gushing over his tunic.
[color=ed1c24][i]'I'm here my little sweetheart. You are going home, don't cry. Come, lets see a smile, you will be sitting before the Monarch soon,'[/i][/color] he looked down at his daughter and she looked back, a sad, tearful smile spreading across her face.

'Daddy,' she gasped, a last wave of tears leaving her eyes, and then she was still. Laying down beside the still form of Relnora, his child on his chest, Horath wept for a few minutes, until he was found like that by his neighbours when they came to investigate. A dead assassin outside his bedroom, an unconscious one crumpled at the foot of the bed, and Horath lying beside his dead wife with Arwa on his chest and a dagger still in his side. He had thought it poisoned and decided to lie down and die with his loved ones, but it seemed it was not.

Leaving the corpses of his family there, in the care of his neighbours, Horath dragged the unconscious assassin through the streets of Coedwin and to the smithy his father had once worked day and night, barely managing get to one of his brother's homes, who helped him the rest of the way. There they chained the assassin, lit up the fire and prepared for a lengthy session of vengeance and questioning. By the end of the night, this man would wish he had died along with his other comrade. They removed the dagger from the wound and washed it clean before searing it closed. It was painful and Horath lost consciousness for a good few hours.

Eventually he awoke and with his brother's help, they set about getting the truth out of the assassin. Horath's suspicions proved correct, these men were not from the Sultanate. They had in fact been hired by some noblemen and a few high-ranking members of the Servants. The Sjarfins were among the schemers. 

After Relnora and Arwa were buried, Horath requested to be released from his vows, and his enemies jumped at the opportunity to be rid of him. He had considered many things, which his brothers quickly convinced him against, and he settled for departure from the Order.
Upon departure, he spent a month or so with his mother. However, he found that Coedwin was full of painful memories, and seeing the culprits walk around free was too much to take. He decided to go elsewhere. At twenty-seven years of age, he journeyed to the capital and joined the Black Shields, where he was immediately appointed as a Lieutenant given his previous service. He would rise in the ranks, and one day, he would have vengeance.
[/i][/indent]

【[U]Dreams, short term goals, and fears.[/U]】

[indent][i] Horath dreams of a day when he can look upon a nation complete, one where the old hatreds are gone, a time when the false understanding of Sawarim and Monarchism which leads to more hatred, is gone. He dreams of a day when the King will take a stand against the prolific corruption among the nobility and religious classes, and the damning poverty of those further down the ladder. He truly believes that the people of the Sultanate are not truly as evil as some portray them to be, there were many similarities between them and those of Broacien. But far away is that day, and Horath knows this. He is a relic of a long-gone time, and he is a man born centuries too early.

Horath also dreams of vengeance against those who wronged him and murdered his wife and daughter. His desire for revenge is rooted deeply, and he rises in the ranks so as to increase his influence and clout. One day, he will return to Coedwin and purge it of the filth who scheme and plan behind its high walls ([color=ed1c24][i]Who will protect them when the wrath and punishment of the Monarch descends?[/i][/color])

In the short-term, Horath wishes to serve the Monarch, the nation and the King as well as he can. Wherever he goes, he plans to plant the seeds of his ideas, he will inspire the people to see the world differently and to become a force powerful enough that the king can rely on them should there come a day when he wishes to rip away the yoke of the nobility and its corrupting influence. 

Horath does not fear death as such (why would one fear returning to the divine?) but he does fear death before he has lifted his people out of the miserable state they are in or at least planting the seeds. He also lives in constant paranoia that he may not be as good or benevolent a man and leader as he would like to think he is, or that he would not be should true responsibility fall upon his shoulders. He also fears death before Relnora and Arwa are avenged. These can all keep him up at night and eat at his thoughts during the day, affecting his focus.[/i][/indent]

[centre]***[/centre]

【[U]Skills[/U]】

[indent][i]Naturally, given his upbringing and years with the Servants, Horath is a skilled swordsman and a good rider. His strength and two years of martial training also means he is can get through a brawl with a good few bruises, though he is far more comfortable with sword in hand.
Horath, unlike many lowborns, can read proficiently, and though he can write, it is scrawly and difficult to read.
Horath is also a decent flute player.
As a leader, Horath has natural charisma and his moral and upright character, as well as his strange ideas and worldview, makes him a rather effective leader capable of gaining the loyalty of other lowborns given time. This also means that he can gain the jealousy and hatred of highborns given even shorter time - no highborn likes to see a lowborn out-stepping his mark after all. Or at least, who identifies and is assumed to be a lowborn.
Though be no means a smith, Horath knows his way around a smithy and is able to aid a more experienced smith if the need arises.
Horath has no skill with ranged weaponry, and though his strength may aid him with things like javelins, his aim is not ideal.[/i][/indent]

【[U]Martial prowess[/U]】

[indent][i]With decent strength, youth, and good training, as well as a good six years of experience with the Servants, Horath is a capable fighter. However, those with more experience, skill, expertise, proficiency and talent will doubtlessly be able to out-match him. He learns quickly, however, and martial prowess should grow given time.[/i][/indent]

【[U]Combat style[/U]】

[indent][i]With sword and shield, Horath employs a somewhat aggressive combat style, relying on his armour and shield to protect him from anything his foe can throw at him. He bashes forward with his shield, destabilising the enemy, before slashing in with his sword. When on the defensive, he raises his shield and takes advantage of his opponent's strikes to quickly rush forward just as their weapon makes contact and deliver a quick blow, whether fatal or shallow. One must control the flow of the duel, and anything to disrupt the enemy's focus is good.
Generally, Horath is very honourable in combat and sticks to his morals without swaying. He does not finish off foes who are fallen, permitting them to stand up and take up their position once more, preferring to finish them off while standing. If his foe proves to be a coward and turns away in an attempt to escape, Horath does not see it as befitting his honour and dignity to spill the blood of one so pitifully degenerate and craven. His blade only spills the blood of the worthy...when he cane help it.[/i][/indent]

【[U]Weaponry[/U]】

[indent][i]With his shield in his left and his sword in his right (see appearance in full battle regalia), Horath is a Knight of the Servants through and through, even if he is now no longer.[/i][/indent]

【[U]Armor[/U]】

[indent][i]See appearance and appearance in full battle regalia and description.[/i][/indent][/indent][/hider]