Name: Maltien Rsalu
Age: 25
Race: Human
Appearance:
Bio: War, struggles, death... heh al good business if you ask me. It's what has kept coin in my pocket and people off my back, it has made me fast and strong, and taught me to trust few people for only as long as they are useful. When the High King was slain from his throne my village was the first to feel the creeping darkness of his failure, and within a small childs wink burned to the ground the corrupt had rot. From their I learned many things the harshness of slavery, the despair of watching my family members die one by one, and the darkness of being forced to kill.
My grandfather had been a knight in his younger days and was well liked... I feel it twas good he died before this nightmare for he was a good man, and would have foolishly tried to rebel even with his body now reduced to a old stick. He did keep one thing from his knighthood days a brilliant crimson spear with a well balanced tip... when my family died at the overuse of our "master" he had decided it was time to make use of the useless slaves... and thus would begin my gladiator days at the age of 13. I was thrown in a pit with a few other slaves who were considered weak, thieves caught, murderers. I watched in horror as they tore each other asunder to stay alive the almost winner a thief who had been caught stealing from my "masters" vaults... he turned to me with blood red eyes the color of crimson stained all over his body... I remember the look on his face as he turned to his final opponent... me. I heard a man yell "make this a fair fight" I never saw his face all I heard was the sudden clatter of a shocking sight. My Grandfathers spear falling near my feet a weapon still to big for me to properly hold. The man roared in a blood dripped rasp as he aimed to earn his life back... yet he never reached me for when I had picked up the upper half of the spear the back had been wedged to the ground causing a good solid back as the man impaled himself upon its blade... I was declared the victor. I was thrown out of the carnage of my once peaceful village my "master" kept his word and I drug my bloody weapon into the unknown wilds.
Years past and I got stronger to the point I could wield and sharpen my spear, and my skills. I joined and left many a groups taking what I needed, and leaving before trouble would destroy them. I slowly got into the mercenary line of workings selling my Spear for the ones with the bigger pockets until I had enough coin to separate my self from them for awhile. Lately though talk of a renewed rebellion has spurned the attention of darker forces... it seems it is nearly time to repay my first "master" a visit, and retake my village... hopefully their is still something, or someone to reclaim.
Personality: Its hard to describe Maltien he isn't exactly cold yet he isn't very warm either. He seems to have a bit of a warriors code as he will not kill a child nor slay a woman. That doesn't however stop the fact that he will not defend himself, and knock or wound either out if forced, but no killing blow will be delivered. He does keep a calm demeanor in most situations, and can be found to be good company over a drink. He doesn't mind the other races though for some strange reason he seems weary of elf's. He wont tolerate people being tortured, and can turn very bloody in such situations quick.
Faction: Mercenary yet hints to the Higher Order.
Gift: non
Weapon(s) of choice: Spear of Calcifer, and a crimson red left hand guard.
Relationship/loved ones?: Neither have had time for such things, nor have met any woman crazy enough to deal with me.
Other: I do enjoy a good apple.