Sam let out a chuckle. He was starting to relax a bit. At least enough to loosen his his grip on the catalyst.
"What gave it away? It was the boots wasn't it?" He looks at the glass a bit confused. He smelled it as discreetly as he could. He stopped for a second to think if it was a good idea to just drink things handed out by strangers. He shrugged internally. It would be rude not too, after all, it was on her. "Cheers" he raised the glass and gave it a hearty drink. It felt like his throat was burning. He tried to hide the fact that he almost choked on it and swallowed. The aftertaste wasn't too bad. He gave Liz his best smile
Name Reignald The Old (Formerly, Reignald the Omen)
Race / Age
Human
Personality
Reignald is a hard man to decipher, and who he is changes a lot from who you ask. People in his hometown will tell you he is a gentle giant. Constantly helping around the village, always with a smile on his face. He will always have kind words for those who approach him, and will serve as shoulder to cry on when needed. Despite being strong as a bull, he wouldn't hurt a fly. A bit overprotective of his daughter, Alana, but ultimately a kind man. The nickname "The Old" just elevates his status as village grandpa.
On the other hand, the men under his command back in his warring days would tell you he was a beast. Stories still spread around camps of the time he broke a man's arm just for daring sneeze while in formation. Ruthless, merciless, and hard as stone. His battlebrothers thought of calling him "the animal" but only stopped out of fear of him ever finding out. Instead, they settled for Reignald the Omen, for when he stepped on the battlefield, it was a sign the tide of battle was about to change.
Backstory
Reignald was born in a small household in the capital, son of a blacksmith and a tailor. Due to his economical situation, he started helping his father in the shop at a very young age. He grew big and strong through the hard labor of the forge, and by his late teens, he was already the sort of man you would not want to pick a fight with. Although he tried to avoid it as much as he could, other kids on his street would constantly pick fights with him, trying to prove their bravery or strenght. Unaware of his strenght, Reignald would end up sometimes hurting someones child more than he intended, earning him constant scoldings and punishments. Despite his lack of combat training, Reignald knew everything his father had to teach him about weaponry.But his place was not making swords, but wielding them. In the same way a blade is forged first with fire and, Reignald had already forged his body, and just like a sword, it was time for him to be tested in battle. He joined the army at age 20. Although he tried to convince himself he did it to repay some of the resources his family had spent raising him, this was far from the truth. Reginald wanted to experience war. He wanted to taste the bloodshed and the real cruelty this world had to offer.
He fought numerous battles in the name of his nation, and by age 40, he had cemented a reputation as a brutal force in the battlefield. This ensured him a small commanding rank, and a little plot of land to call his own. In the span of a couple of years his unit had become efficient, effective, and most importantly, deadly. It wouldnt be until 4 years later that he decided to retire, without much explanation, leaving the command of his men to a trusted aprentice. He would lead a peaceful life for another 6 years, allowing himself to enjoy the fruits of a lifetime of service. But his sword yearned for the embrace of its master, and Reignald knew, deep within, he was born for war.
He tried to re-enlist, but instead, go directed somewhere else. His achivements had not gone unnoticed after all.
"The Virtous Company, eh? Count me in"
Physical Talents Proficiency with sword, armor and shield. Military discipline. Blacksmithing skills. Above average strenght.
Magical Talents Low Tier Rage of the Bull: Years of combat and wounds have taught Reignald to ignore pain, even if temporarily. This comes with the downside of constantly ignoring grave wounds, which, unattended, could cause trouble in the long run. Battlecry: Half of the battle is in the mind. Reignald has learnt this over the years, and has mastered the art of shouting fear into his enemies. Not supernatural in and on itself one would think, until one heard his battlecry. Mid Tier Second Wind: When in the brink of death, animals fight the hardest. After receiving extensive damage, Reignald can push himself into a last desperate fight, often with deathly results. Omens of battle: Plenty of war experience has payed off in an almost supernatural ability to predict the ways of combat. A constant disconnection in the battlefield usually stops his use of reason when fighting. But on the rare ocasion where Reignald fights with a clear mind, the result is a proficiency in duel that some would confuse of divination. Almost as if he knew what his enemy was about to do.
Equipment His sword (nicknamed "Lullaby") Full plate armor. His shield. A small satchel bag, attached to his sword's hilt. Rations for 3 days in bread and cheese. A horn An assortment of stimulant herbs A flask of healing poultice (300ml) A canteen full of wine (500ml)
Fears Reignald constantly questions why exactly does he fight. Constantly tries to convince himself that he is a good person, and that he fights for his country and his ideals. Deep inside, he is afraid to akcnowledge that maybe, just maybe, he is as brutal and savage as the kids in his block once thought he was.
Another great fear of his is losing his daughter, Alana. Although Alana is a grown woman, Reignald can get overprotective of her at times. He specially distrusts Alana's husband, Theodore, and only backs off as per his daughter's request.
This ties to a general fear of losing those who look up to him. Despite his time in the army, Reignald never really got used to losing the people around him, and would constantly put himself in unreasonable danger due to his inability to let go.
Reignald is a hard man to decipher, and who he is changes a lot from who you ask. People in his hometown will tell you he is a gentle giant. Constantly helping around the village, always with a smile on his face. He will always have kind words for those who approach him, and will serve as shoulder to cry on when needed. Despite being strong as a bull, he wouldn't hurt a fly. A bit overprotective of his daughter, Alana, but ultimately a kind man. The nickname "The Old" just elevates his status as village grandpa.
On the other hand, the men under his command back in his warring days would tell you he was a beast. Stories still spread around camps of the time he broke a man's arm just for daring sneeze while in formation. Ruthless, merciless, and hard as stone. His battlebrothers thought of calling him "the beast" but only stopped out of fear of him ever finding out. Instead, they settled for Reignald the Omen, for when he stepped on the battlefield, it was a sign the tide of battle was about to change.
Backstory
Reignald was born in a small household in the capital, son of a blacksmith and a tailor. Due to his economical situation, he started helping his father in the shop at a very young age. He grew big and strong through the hard labor of the forge, and by his late teens, he was already the sort of man you would not want to pick a fight with. Despite his lack of combat training, Reignald knew everything his father had to teach him about weaponry.But his place was not making swords, but wielding them. In the same way a blade is forged first with fire and hammer, Reignald had already forged his body, and just like a sword, it was time for him to be tested in battle. He joined the army at age 20. Although he tried to convince himself he did it to repay some of the resources his family had spent raising him, this was far from the truth. Reginald wanted to experience war. He wanted to taste the bloodshed and the real cruelty this world had to offer.
He fought numerous battles in the name of his nation, and by age 40, he had cemented a reputation as a brutal force in the battlefield. This ensured him a small commanding rank, and a little plot of land to call his own. In the span of a couple of years his unit had become efficient, effective, and most importantly, deadly. It wouldnt be until 4 years later that he decided to retire, without much explanation, leaving the command of his men to a trusted aprentice. He would lead a peaceful life for another 6 years, allowing himself to enjoy the fruits of a lifetime of service. But his sword yearned for the embrace of its master, and Reignald knew, deep within, he was born for war.
He tried to re-enlist, but instead, go directed somewhere else. His achivements had not gone unnoticed after all.
"The Virtous Company, eh? Count me in"
Physical Talents Proficiency with sword, armor and shield. Military discipline. Blacksmithing skills. Above average strenght.
Magical Talents Reignald never had access to magical training, so he lacks the ability to use it or understand it.
Equipment His sword (nicknamed "Lullaby") Full plate armor. His shield. A small satchel back, attached to his sword's hilt. Rations, and a variety of healing and stimulant herbs.
Fears Reignald constantly questions why exactly does he fight. Constantly tries to convince himself that he is a good person, and that he fights for his country and his ideals. Deep inside, he is afraid to akcnowledge that maybe, just maybe, he is as brutal and savage as the kid in his block once thought he was
Sam looked up to the woman in the eyepatch a bit startled. He had not expected to strike up conversation, but this was just what he needed anyway. "Eh...Rum" he said, the first alcoholic drink to pop into his mind. He wasn't sure as to what to order. Alcohol was strictly prohibited at Treadberry, so he had never really tasted it. He extended his hand cautiously. "Samuel. Samuel Osgood."
Samuel sat on the nearest empty stool he could find. He didn't stop grasping his catalyst. So far, nobody tried to kill him, so that was a good sign. Still, better safe than sorry. Did he have any money left? He opened his component pouch. A silver coin and three copper ones. That should do for a drink at least. So he sat, and waited.
