Name: Weiland Yvain
Physical Attributes:
Weiland is a man in his mid thirties, at least that would be what demeanor and appearance give, he stands at roughly 177cm in height. Red hair is muted and subdued, with an impressive mustache that naturally meets and combines with muttonchops on each side of his sunken face. His attire is that of a city guardsman, repurposed for supporting early attempts at policing by the nobles that spearheaded the efforts. A worn, broken in cloak of faded blue adorn his shoulders, while yellow patches, long faded by constant exposure, function to break up the brown of his gambeson. This gambeson reaches down to just above his knees, covering the beginning of where well mended trousers and sturdy, broken in boots wrap up a functional attire, repurposed from what was once worn by a guard.
Mental Attributes:
Weiland is a man of his word, for better or worse. Once an oath is given or word promised, he will do his level best to see said oath or promise fulfilled or carried out. Not much of one for deceit or treachery, often times he is simply taken at face value, a washed up soldier or guard seeking freelance work after some unspoken failure. Upon engaging him, one can find him fairly polite, and easy to get along with, though this changes harshly in trouble. Attempting to rally those around him, he goes to meet the problem the best way possible, even if it leaves a sour taste in his mouth, showing a pragmatism hard learned. Add in reluctance to speak on his past, with surprisingly acute attention to details and even slight shifts in his companions demeanor, he can unwittingly bring attention on himself.
History:
Born to a soldier's dalliance, Weiland was raised in his father's stead, to take up sword and shield for the good of a kingdom. Spending his days practicing with wooden blade and oak shield while other children would be studying or playing, it prepared him well for a clash of steel and skill on a field of battle. Such a thing never came, however, and as he was old enough to be sworn into the army, he found himself patrolling roads and protecting towns from bandits, and the odd thing he was told to not discuss. All the better, such things he'd rather not remember, given their unpleasant nature and the men the things would claim. Yet his belief in the strength of Men would be forged in such early years, seeing how faith and steel won in the face of long odds indeed, at least by his standards.
When his mid twenties arrived, Weiland had been in command of a handful of his own men, a Sergeant leading his men on patrols, boasting unusual success in countering ambushes and tracking down bandits and criminals. While using the army for such things remained unpopular, some nobles petitioned that those skilled in these activities be tasked with acting as lawmen for their city. Weiland and his men were picked, and despite his misgivings, he followed the calling. The nobility and most powerful of merchants expected to simply buy the loyalty of these recently unemployed soldiers, lining their pockets while an inadequate stipend for official duties would leave them with no choice. Weiland refused to accept such arrangements, employing that wit and awareness in evading attempts to remove the troublesome lawman, while being popular with the common man, as he played no favorites. A noble was as guilty as a peasant, and this would be problematic indeed. But even if he couldn't be bought, his superiors could be.
The right palms were greased, and Weiland was formally dismissed from the army, rather abruptly as well, though it was not officially stated as a matter of disgrace. His men had been long since bought, and some might have been stubborn enough to try and stick around. Weiland was no fool, and could see the writing on the wall, and made himself scarce. He still had to make ends meet, however, and turned to selling his sword. It was not an easy living, but one that would lead him to being on the ill fated train that would be hurtling towards its doom, simply looking for the next source of income to continue making ends meet.
Abilities:
Vitality: 8 - Sturdy in frame, and well built on that frame as well, one cannot expect Weiland to knuckle down and fail from physical strain or illness easily.
Strength: 7 - Being sturdily built only covers half of his soldiering career, being able to strike hard and make the blows count, while weathering the counter strikes, is classic technique.
Finesse: 3 - Swordplay requires some level of finesse, which Weiland has had to learn, though he is not well suited to the more elegant and focused styles, relying on strength and sturdiness of his weapon.
Perception: 10 - Going from constant patrols in woods, outskirts around cities, to marching through city streets, watching for even a hint of trouble, Weiland could never risk missing an out of place shadow, sudden lack of wildlife, or odd aroma, lest it risk his life.
Intelligence: 3 - Being a soldier first, academics were not a priority, and outside of a typical education for a career soldier's son, one cannot expect much in this from Weiland.
Wisdom: 10 - Hard earned understanding coupled with a natural "gut instinct", Weiland has long since learned to trust his guts. Be it concern, or confidence, he has proven fortunate in picking out lies and deceit alongside trouble and hidden things.
Faith: 7 - Weiland has a strong belief in his capabilities, and his ability to weather a storm, and while his actual belief in the Light is dubious at times, his own conviction and belief in the strength of Man drives him to hold his ground when others would flee.
Occult: 2 - Much of Weiland's career has been opposed to his fellow man, figuratively speaking, as well as tracking down criminals and the odd cultist that got wrapped up in their activities. He can recognize the occult, but understanding is another story completely.
Equipment:
Arming Sword (Level 2): A sword he was able to retain ownership of, it's construction hints at better times, though by now, lack of dedicated forge or smith has taken its toll. The first several inches of blade from the hilt are of note, the design bearing the hints of noble purpose lost.
Heater Shield (Level 2): Much like his blade, though there is evidence a coat of arms once graced its face, this has long since been stricken and left with the plain metal construction apparent. Well made, at one point, though suffering from a similar fate as his sword.
Gambeson and Mail (Level 3): A soldier's uniform, first repurposed to upholding the law, and then after that to that of a sword for hire, it has seen the most effort in retaining its qualities, as without a means of protection, what good is a fine sword? The gambeson itself is sturdy and well kept, providing ample protection against typical blunt impacts or a sharp knife, while the mail coat hidden underneath to help as a last ditch line against a slash that makes it through the gambeson.
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