"One place is as good as any, and I can always make it better."
Name: Lazar Artyom
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Appearance:
At over six feet (188 cm), Lazar is taller than most men. He's broad of shoulder and muscular, making it clear that he is no stranger to hard work even if he is a stranger to his own past. Besides that, he appears fairly average. Dull, almond-brown hair and dark green eyes that border strong masculine features.
Magic: N/A
Weapon:
- Butcher's Blade: A forward-curved, single edged sword with a heavy spine capable of blocking steel without damaging the cutting edge, as seen over his shoulder. The scabbard is of weathered oak, with the scars of battle polished over with wax. The weapon itself has a leather-wrapped handle, unadorned iron pommel, and a well-maintained blade whose edges are nicked from frequent use. [Example]
- Old Hunter's Crossbow: A hand-cranked wooden crossbow with tarnished silver filigree. It packs a far bigger punch than the average flintlock pistol, but is also far more cumbersome to carry and requires two hands to wield effectively.
- Super Special Placeholder:
Personality:
Lazar has the relaxed attitude of a man who doesn't feel that he has anything to prove, and no lofty ambition to drive him. In other words, he's an easily contented individual who isn't overly concerned with how others view him. Although he can and does get angry like anyone else, it is very difficult to ruffle his feathers. The scathing gibes that send some people into a fit are like stones tossed in a lake when it comes to Lazar, and if he is angry it's much more likely that the cause is some witnessed injustice.
Despite his placid nature, Lazar does not like to lounge about all day. He is a hard worker, who focuses on the task at hand and doesn't usually humor distractions when there's something to be done. If he sits still to long he's prone to getting restless, so he uses physical tasks to keep himself busy, loosen up his muscles for when he needs them, and ease his mind.
Unlike some others, Lazar isn't interested in returning to wherever he came from. Sure he'd like to remember his own past, but in his own words: "One place is as good as any, and I can always make it better."
Bio:
A white room, a bright light. A warm hand in his cold one, hot tears falling on his chest. Something small bounces across the tiles. Before that, heat on his skin, pain inside and out, a weight in his arms, too heavy. Falling. When Lazar looks back, to a time before he awoke in Iredele, that is all he remembers.
Other: