Name: Arnold Horgvar
Age: 26
Gender: Male
Country of Origin: Born in Graelia, with his late teenage years in Atrela.
Weapons: A trusty old
blade(with more wear), acquired during one of his less glorious exploits in Atrela.
AppearanceArnold keeps a scruffy appearance and always has the slightest hint of a smirk on the corners of his mouth. He is relatively tall (a few inches above the average height of a Graelian) and has a slightly thin, but well kept build, kept in shape from constant practice. Rarely does one see him out of a brown wool shirt and decent leggings that indicate no affiliation with one house or another. He almost always keeps his gloves and boots on, though he may often forget any headgear. He is very much in shape, and in no danger of being overweight, though he looks a little bigger given the equipment he dons below his outer coverings. Below his fairly casual garb is an 'average' set of chainmail armor (and very basic clothes below that) that does not do a whole lot besides hinder some stabby things and glance a few blows. He's not exactly a peasant, but his outfit could be better kept. He recently replaced his shirt and leggings.
PersonalityArnold is fairly young, though he's gained a cocky wild edge that persists from his 'almost banditry days', as he likes to deflect. Truth be told, he is fairly suitable for a bandit, though he makes a very clear distinction between being a mercenary and a bandit. He thinks he knows 'it all', has a fairly big mouth, and has many of the stereotypical attributes of a person in his 20's who hasn't quite gone to the next level of adult life yet. He'll be lazy if he can and makes for a decent conversation partner for most people that aren't nobility, but he does have a 'calm' side that he uses effectively in combat. He carries pessimistic views about people in power (basically, he has an attitude when he's told what to do), but he doesn't mind taking their money - just as long as they keep out of his way. His temper is sometimes a problem, though he does well in keeping it cool these days.
Magic users can live, but if there's any hint of a spell being used on him of
any kind, the mage is going to have a "chat with his sticker". You know, the friendly kind of chat that a blade has with a gut. He won't murder someone for a healing spell, as an exception, and he doesn't mind when magic is used on anyone he doesn't like.
'Short' BiographyArnold's life is fairly simple to summarize; he was raised with fighting fists, spent his teenage years with a blade, and makes his living off not doing much along the lines of work. His past is inglorious at best, not that many people know how he spent his late teenage and prior adult years.
He was born and raised in the "low middle class" part of Clanark. Home was fairly stable; his father was often drunk, yes, but the effects weren't nearly as bad as one would expect. His mother was the one who pushed Arnold to learn how to fight at an early age. His mother, all the way through his childhood, warned him of the dangerous and untrustworthy nature of mages. In other words, his mother ran the household, and his father was typically too drunk or dim to care.
He learned well, and his practice with his own parents proved him competent in brawling if nothing else. Far from the best, but close enough to good that he was rarely disturbed by his peers in early years. His first sword was something of a heirloom - a beaten sword from the Holy War, given to him by his mother. It was worn down and not particularly sharp, but it served him well. It followed him after a blowout with his parents - mostly his mother, who insisted on making him an apprentice to a blacksmith - that resulted in his abrupt departure from home and the start of his life wandering the wilderness, usually erring towards the northern borders of the country.
His ability to stab things earned him a spot in a small band of fighters that were roaming between Graelia and Atrela when he was 16. For seven years, he spent his time in the group, learning from better fighters and learning a variety of dirty tricks. It was a group that very narrowly slid along the edge of 'mercenary' and 'brigand'. They were mercenary given that they offered their services to the minor houses that wanted someone to do dirty jobs. They were brigands in that the dirty jobs were things the houses didn't want tracing back to them. Robbery, kidnapping, and an occasional murder was not past them. Arnold was a core member of the group later on, and participated in most of the dirtier activities. He saw it start from a group of reformed drunkards and petty bandits, and he saw it grow into a... margially more legal group of mostly reformed drunkards and slightly better bandits that called themselves mercenaries. A few of their jobs included the extermination of actual bandit groups. On the flip side, they included taking the lives of at least a dozen innocents over the years. They developed a very mixed reputation. Even with his senior position, Arnold wasn't too well known, mostly due to his habit of obscuring his face while on jobs.
The group was thinned out when one of Atrela's larger houses became sick of the group's involvement in the country's petty squabbles along the borders. Housecarls and professional fighters met Arnold's camp one day, and when Arnold returned from a minor task in the woods, there was barely anything left save the bodies many from his group and three people left standing. The remainder of the group disbanded, and Arnold joined the unofficial branch of guard for one of the minor houses that had frequently hired his group for minor tasks. His face still wasn't well known, which was extremely helpful in actually getting the job - his group's name was run through the muck in the eyes of the people enough that his fallen group was well and truly considered bandits.
He was kicked from the loose 'guard' unit (and generously allowed to live) when he became drunk one day and bloodied his superior's nose over some small slight that is forever lost to memory. He returned to Graelia and has been living off his sword arm and friendly relations with local innkeepers ever since. While his reputation in Atrela by then was botched, he didn't have much of a record in Graelia. He became slightly popular on the fringes of the capital for his participation in public duels hosted at the sides of town for popular entertainment. He wasn't the best, but he was pretty good, and he wasn't a sore or frequent loser. Connections built from that, and a few lifted goods, have allowed him to carry just enough coin that he doesn't starve.
While he's not very fond of the nobility, he figured he would take up a proper job for once in a few years. The mention of money and the idea of actually having something to do is enough for him to give the mission a fair chance. He's known for being good with a blade, decent in conversation, and holding a base grudge against mages.
OtherHe's a fair swordsman, though hardly the best. Give him any one handed melee weapon that isn't a sword, and he can figure it out. Two handed weapons aren't his style, but he can handle those too if he has to. He's shit with a bow, but he can at least figure out a crossbow without shooting himself with it (not that he's used either). He cooks burnt anything, heals with the grace of a falling warhammer, and treads a fine line between being a fair fighter and a rabid brawling dog. He considers it a strength to pick between the styles.
