Marric (rogus's 1st alt)
Feb 24, 2014 3:35:52 GMT -6
Post by Marric on Feb 24, 2014 3:35:52 GMT -6
Name: Marric "Twig"
Class: Fighter
Hair Color: Blonde
Eye Color: Green
Age: 20
Appearance: Marric is an odd sort for his class. He's tall enough for the part, standing at six foot two. However, he is uncharacteristically skinny for such a profession. He has plenty of muscle to be sure, but compared to another fighter his build is much slighter. He's good-looking in a rugged way, enough to make a head or two turn, but not overly so. He bares only a few scars; three pronounced streaks of damaged tissue make a short run along his neck, another right beside his right ear. Marric also sports a few burn scars on the entire right side of his chest and arm. He has a bit of an intimidating voice, but his green eyes display his relaxed nature, and flexible temperament.
Gear: He wears a rough spun tunic of a navy color, and a matching headband. He also sports a light mail vest over his tunic, and a steel shoulder plate that is tied down to his left shoulder. In terms of other gear Marric wears a pair of baggy, tan trousers tied by a simple leather belt, boots that are made of high quality, brown leather that nearly reach his knees, and finally covering his hands are a mismatched pair of gloves, one finger-less, the other in the same state but run a bit longer past his wrist. He is always carrying his trusty axe.
Born in: Ilia
Story So Far: A great band you should look up... Oh wait, the story...
Marric is the son of a soldier of Bern and a pegasus knight who had apparently met on the battlefield. They began a brief relationship before the knight was called back to Ilia, and, unbeknownst to her, she carried a passenger. Born into a loving bunch of energetic, cuddleable, hardened killers; Marric was introduced to the mercenary trade as soon as he entered the world. His family, a flight squad of Pegasus Knights doted on him endlessly, much to the displeasure of their Flight Commander, his mother. As he grew, he displayed little aptitude for pegasi, or flying in general; even though he grew up purely around them. In his defense, however, they didn't seem to like him much at all either. At age sixteen, he, like all Ilians capable of fighting, left to find mercenary work to bring the coin back for his homeland.
Because of his life-time around other mercenaries he was already well-versed in the art and found success quickly and easily. Around a year into his journey, his work brought him into bern. A contract to aid a defending party in a land dispute between nobles led to a confrontation with his very own father. A Wyvern Knight of Bern turned mercenary, his father, was a menace in the air and on land. The two met during a skirmish between the nobles' forces. The knight bested the boy easily, and just before he delivered the killing blow, he heard Marric utter the name of the knight's past lover. Unable to reel his trident-like-lance back in time, he diverted the blow to the side, slicing into the boy's neck sickeningly but not enough to kill. The Knight remarked, amazed, that Marric had his lost love's eyes just before Marric lost conscience. When Marric awoke he found himself in a tent, a cleric healing his wounds. His wounds treated, but scarred, he set out to find the man who had spared him.
Finally, he found the knight feeding a vicious looking wyvern. Without his helmet on the Knight's blonde hair blew in the wind, and as he turned to face the approaching teenager Marric saw a very familiar face.
His own.
The two talked about their relationship, concluding that they were in fact father and son. Marric asked his father to train him to ride a wyvern, however, it was soon discovered that he had no aptitude for it, much to the relief of his father. According to his father, if he had gotten the skills of both of his parents he would have out-classed him within a few years, and Marric's father fancied himself as the baddest rider in the sky. though he could not ride a wyvern, Marric still desired to be taught how to be a better warrior, and his father provided the experience needed.
Marric's father asked why he had brought a sword on his journey, Marric replied that it was all he had. His father explained that the way he fought was much more suited to the dangerous and powerful style Marric used. That was that, Marric was given his first axe. A military issued Bern-made Axe that seemed to fit well in his hand. Soon after, Marric began training with his father, and in time grew to become a valuable asset in his father's battalion of mercenaries. He gained the endearment "Twig" from his fellow axe fighters in the group due to his smaller build, and it stuck.
He worked for the group for years, becoming very close to his father, and an even fiercer warrior than many of the men in the battalion. This was not to last, however, as soon tragedy would strike the hardened band of veterans.
On the job in Etruria, a local lord had hired Marric's band of mercs to deal with a group of renegade magi. It was supposedly an easy job, find, kill or capture the magi and get paid. But the lord tipped the mages off, a scheme to take the wyverns the mercenaries had and sell them to underground markets. It was a slaughter, the mercenaries were caught in a shallow valley where the mages had taken positions on the higher ground. The few that could, climbed the hills to kill the mages firing down at the main group in a crossfire, but they were held at bay by the fire and lightning spells the mages cast. Marric, one of the nimbler mercenaries was apart of the few that climbed to take the fight to the cowardly mages. He reached an outcropping where multiple mages were firing down upon his friends. Hacking and slashing his way past the first few mages in a blind rage, Marric was finally hit by an elfire spell, engulfing his entire right side in flame.
Marric's father, coordinating with his fellow fliers to swoop in and join the fray, saw his son covered in fire. Enraged, he broke formation and leapt from his mount onto an outcropping where the mage who had dealt the blow to his son was.
The man fought valiantly, killing the mage who had hurt his son, and defending his son's charred, and writhing form. But it was in vain. The leader of the mages, a rat-like sage and a few of his magi soon overwhelmed the man and he was killed in a barrage of fire and thunder. The mages left Marric to his fate and went about killing the rest of the trapped mercenaries who had been too slow to retreat, or too stubborn to give up.
Days later, Marric awoke to a valley filled with the bodies of his friends. Sadly, he wasn't able to bury any of them, and many were unrecognizable. The mages had left their dead as well, and that gave Marric an idea. He dressed in the garb of the mages and went back to the lord's manor in the countryside of Etruria. when he gained entry to the place, he slaughtered the lord's few guards, and confronted the weaselly man himself. The man begged for his life, and Marric allowed him to keep it. However, he took the traitor's left hand as a consolation prize, leaving without a word.
Without his father, or a purpose besides continuing his work as a mercenary Marric now works freelance in any area that needs someone of his skill set. Vowing to stay the course as an honorable and reliable sell-sword, as his father was.
Class: Fighter
Hair Color: Blonde
Eye Color: Green
Age: 20
Appearance: Marric is an odd sort for his class. He's tall enough for the part, standing at six foot two. However, he is uncharacteristically skinny for such a profession. He has plenty of muscle to be sure, but compared to another fighter his build is much slighter. He's good-looking in a rugged way, enough to make a head or two turn, but not overly so. He bares only a few scars; three pronounced streaks of damaged tissue make a short run along his neck, another right beside his right ear. Marric also sports a few burn scars on the entire right side of his chest and arm. He has a bit of an intimidating voice, but his green eyes display his relaxed nature, and flexible temperament.
Gear: He wears a rough spun tunic of a navy color, and a matching headband. He also sports a light mail vest over his tunic, and a steel shoulder plate that is tied down to his left shoulder. In terms of other gear Marric wears a pair of baggy, tan trousers tied by a simple leather belt, boots that are made of high quality, brown leather that nearly reach his knees, and finally covering his hands are a mismatched pair of gloves, one finger-less, the other in the same state but run a bit longer past his wrist. He is always carrying his trusty axe.
Born in: Ilia
Story So Far: A great band you should look up... Oh wait, the story...
Marric is the son of a soldier of Bern and a pegasus knight who had apparently met on the battlefield. They began a brief relationship before the knight was called back to Ilia, and, unbeknownst to her, she carried a passenger. Born into a loving bunch of energetic, cuddleable, hardened killers; Marric was introduced to the mercenary trade as soon as he entered the world. His family, a flight squad of Pegasus Knights doted on him endlessly, much to the displeasure of their Flight Commander, his mother. As he grew, he displayed little aptitude for pegasi, or flying in general; even though he grew up purely around them. In his defense, however, they didn't seem to like him much at all either. At age sixteen, he, like all Ilians capable of fighting, left to find mercenary work to bring the coin back for his homeland.
Because of his life-time around other mercenaries he was already well-versed in the art and found success quickly and easily. Around a year into his journey, his work brought him into bern. A contract to aid a defending party in a land dispute between nobles led to a confrontation with his very own father. A Wyvern Knight of Bern turned mercenary, his father, was a menace in the air and on land. The two met during a skirmish between the nobles' forces. The knight bested the boy easily, and just before he delivered the killing blow, he heard Marric utter the name of the knight's past lover. Unable to reel his trident-like-lance back in time, he diverted the blow to the side, slicing into the boy's neck sickeningly but not enough to kill. The Knight remarked, amazed, that Marric had his lost love's eyes just before Marric lost conscience. When Marric awoke he found himself in a tent, a cleric healing his wounds. His wounds treated, but scarred, he set out to find the man who had spared him.
Finally, he found the knight feeding a vicious looking wyvern. Without his helmet on the Knight's blonde hair blew in the wind, and as he turned to face the approaching teenager Marric saw a very familiar face.
His own.
The two talked about their relationship, concluding that they were in fact father and son. Marric asked his father to train him to ride a wyvern, however, it was soon discovered that he had no aptitude for it, much to the relief of his father. According to his father, if he had gotten the skills of both of his parents he would have out-classed him within a few years, and Marric's father fancied himself as the baddest rider in the sky. though he could not ride a wyvern, Marric still desired to be taught how to be a better warrior, and his father provided the experience needed.
Marric's father asked why he had brought a sword on his journey, Marric replied that it was all he had. His father explained that the way he fought was much more suited to the dangerous and powerful style Marric used. That was that, Marric was given his first axe. A military issued Bern-made Axe that seemed to fit well in his hand. Soon after, Marric began training with his father, and in time grew to become a valuable asset in his father's battalion of mercenaries. He gained the endearment "Twig" from his fellow axe fighters in the group due to his smaller build, and it stuck.
He worked for the group for years, becoming very close to his father, and an even fiercer warrior than many of the men in the battalion. This was not to last, however, as soon tragedy would strike the hardened band of veterans.
On the job in Etruria, a local lord had hired Marric's band of mercs to deal with a group of renegade magi. It was supposedly an easy job, find, kill or capture the magi and get paid. But the lord tipped the mages off, a scheme to take the wyverns the mercenaries had and sell them to underground markets. It was a slaughter, the mercenaries were caught in a shallow valley where the mages had taken positions on the higher ground. The few that could, climbed the hills to kill the mages firing down at the main group in a crossfire, but they were held at bay by the fire and lightning spells the mages cast. Marric, one of the nimbler mercenaries was apart of the few that climbed to take the fight to the cowardly mages. He reached an outcropping where multiple mages were firing down upon his friends. Hacking and slashing his way past the first few mages in a blind rage, Marric was finally hit by an elfire spell, engulfing his entire right side in flame.
Marric's father, coordinating with his fellow fliers to swoop in and join the fray, saw his son covered in fire. Enraged, he broke formation and leapt from his mount onto an outcropping where the mage who had dealt the blow to his son was.
The man fought valiantly, killing the mage who had hurt his son, and defending his son's charred, and writhing form. But it was in vain. The leader of the mages, a rat-like sage and a few of his magi soon overwhelmed the man and he was killed in a barrage of fire and thunder. The mages left Marric to his fate and went about killing the rest of the trapped mercenaries who had been too slow to retreat, or too stubborn to give up.
Days later, Marric awoke to a valley filled with the bodies of his friends. Sadly, he wasn't able to bury any of them, and many were unrecognizable. The mages had left their dead as well, and that gave Marric an idea. He dressed in the garb of the mages and went back to the lord's manor in the countryside of Etruria. when he gained entry to the place, he slaughtered the lord's few guards, and confronted the weaselly man himself. The man begged for his life, and Marric allowed him to keep it. However, he took the traitor's left hand as a consolation prize, leaving without a word.
Without his father, or a purpose besides continuing his work as a mercenary Marric now works freelance in any area that needs someone of his skill set. Vowing to stay the course as an honorable and reliable sell-sword, as his father was.
