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Character Name: Loheir the Lost

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Looking at him, no one would suspect Loheir a Bretonnian knight until he opened his mouth. His armor is a motly amalgamation of crude plates taken from beastmen and orks, forced into something resemble proper armor over a chainmail tunic. His long boots and his gauntlets are but tough leather with metal plates sewn on top and nothing of his heldrary remains, not that Loheir would want any of it to be seen.

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Background/History:

Never a particular zealous scion, Loheir grew up cynical and distant with just enough of the Bretonnian traditions of honor and chivalry to not be led astray. The youngest of four brothers and the second youngest of seven total siblings, Loheir was never going to inherant anything of value and would begin to see himself more of a warrior than a lord. While his brothers were taught managing realms and reading classics, Loheir trained against dummies and partners. While his siblings attended feasts, Loheir went on hunting trips and expiditions against the orks. Despite his youth, he was the first of his generation to become a Knight of the Realm but was the last to take up the Questing Oath.

With his great sword and horse, he set off into distant lands to fight for the name of the Lady but his lack of devotion and zeal meant she would never appear. He travelled far from his home, so far that many thought he had died on some nameless battlefield or slain in his sleep. They didn't care, there were other scions to attend to and he was just the youngest. Loheir had indeed survived and had fought his way into the Empire, caring less and less about his holy duty and more about the simple act of fighting and surviving. Every day he lost sight of the light of the Lady, and everyday he wandered farther from his home until he saw it no longer.

It would be at the village of Holoheim which Loheir would first make a true name for himself. The village was beset by constant beastmen raiders and was in desperate need of defenders. But their pleeds for help had gone unanswered by the local lords and no mercenaries were will to die for such a pathetic hamlet. Deciding that he would preform at least one chivalrous act in the increasingly less hopeful quest, Loheir entered the village and drove back one such raid. His superior arms and armors, the few things bequeethed to him by his family, allowed him to cut through the cloven ones with eaise and he drove them back. But instead of praise, all he recieved was a cold bed and colder stares for the villagers despised having to rely on a foreign Bretonnian to save them.

Time and time again, Loheir would come to the villags' rescue, each time returning to the inn with less of himself. First he lost his helm, knocked off and crushed under hooves. Next was his heraldry, ripped off during a brawl. His horse came next, blocking an axe with its body meant for Loheir. After that was his armor, which had been worn down and ripped apart over a dozen fights and skirmishes. And finally, his sword broke after an axe shatttered it in two. Despite his heroism and bravery, the villagers only came to despise him more because of how increasinly reliant they were to his service. Loheir was only staying out of what remained of a senes of duty and a woman he fell in love with and protected with the only weapons he had left, the crude greatsword of a beastman and his sheild.

When the maiden fell in battle one day, Loheir fell into deep grieving and threw away his sheild and instead extended the handle of his greatsword for he no longer felt the need of self preservation nor the protection of others. Despite all his time of unlfiching bravery and the dozens of times he drove off beastmen and even orks, the villagers showed only bitterness as their prejiduce would not subside and their shame only burned as hatred. Until one day, Loheir simply left the village, leaving his sheild and what remains of his old armor in his little room in the inn and march further into the distant horizon.