Brazo
Sept 18, 2020 16:40:35 GMT -6
Post by Brazo on Sept 18, 2020 16:40:35 GMT -6
Name: Brazo Garamarant
Class: Mercenary
Dragon Element: N/A
Age: 19
Born in: Lycia
Appearance: Brazo has black hair, and seems to like the color as he accents it with similarly black clothes and armor. He wears black civilian clothing, and dyed leather armor over it. His armor has iron plates over vital parts, and even these metal pieces are blackish. He wears black gloves and boots as well. Besides his particularly gloomy attire, he's rather muscular.
Personality: Brazo is a very taciturn man. Stubborn and stoic, he prefers to keep to himself. Whenever he becomes attached to someone, he finds himself stumbling around them socially, unable to communicate his feelings and scared of trying. He's not easily flustered, but when flustered he collapses into a gibbering mess. He prefers to communicate through body language and actions rather than words. He's confident, obedient, and loyal- a model mercenary.
History: Brazo grew up in an orphanage, and was adopted by a traveling mercenary band to act as a trainee and assistant. As a child, he would help people with daily chores, maintain weapons, and receive training with a blade. He began to view the man who formally adopted him, the leader of the band, Commander Oren, as a father. He happily continued with his duties, even though they were simply chores, while thinking of this band as his family. He was content with his life. As he got older, he was given more responsibilities, and the role of a combatant. The more he spent as a combatant, the more he changed. The way he saw it, the violence of battle was what was expected of him. It was his duty to his family, this band of mercenaries, to do battle. In his beginning, they had jobs that focused on monster extermination. This didn't last however, and Brazo had soon after killed a man for the first time. When this happened, something inside of him clicked.
This is what was expected of him. This is what he had to do. This wasn't just his job, this was his way of life. He began to view being a mercenary in a new light. These men around him- his family- didn't just get into this because it seemed like something they would enjoy. Nobody chose to be a mercenary because it was easy, because of the pay, because of the glory or anything else. This was the only path they could take. It was certainly the same for him, as well. Were it not for this band of mercenaries, he likely would've been some street thug, or dead.
To say that Brazo was married to this job was an understatement. It was all he knew. Fighting for the highest bidder was his life. This changed when the boss died in the band's last assignment. A bonewalker had gotten lucky, and slew the boss with one well placed lance thrust. After the assignment and pay was distributed, they disbanded. Others grouped up together to search for opportunities elsewhere, others chose to relocate but stay in the country of Lycia, but it didn't matter much to Brazo. The closest thing he had to a father had died, and his family had abandoned him. He was out of work, too. The things he thought constant in his life left one after another as the the job he was married took everything from him in a messy divorce.
With little left but his clothes, armor, blade, and will to live, Brazo began to wander the continent, doing odd jobs for food and drink. Each night he, not a particularly religious man, hopes and prays that his life will one day return to what it was before. Until then, he has nothing to do but wander.
NPC fight: Brazo readied his training sword. The aging teen, while good, was still no match for his mentor. Oren readied his wooden axe, and they met each other in combat without so much as a word. Brazo thrust, and Oren nimbly side-stepped and went to deliver a swing from the side using his momentum. Brazo quickly reeled back and blocked the wooden axe just before it hit him. He tried to push the older man's weapon back with his own, but the man met his challenge and began to best him in this pushing contest. "Not a good idea, Brazo!" Oren said. Surprisingly, Brazo quickly pulled back from the pushing contest and dashed back at Oren, delivering a quick thrust to his abdomen. "Well I'll be, Brazo. You've been getting better and better at this." He complimented, as that round of training was over. Brazo nodded and sat on the bench. Oren brought him a cup of water, and the two relaxed together. "I wouldn't have thought that you'd fake me out like that. Ya' sure are learnin', son!" Oren said. Brazo's face lit up in shock and he turned to look at Commander Oren. This was the first time he had actually addressed him as "son". Although he reasoned that he was just referring to him as "son" like he was using the word "friend", part of him was jumping for joy at his effort being recognized. His face got red, and he felt a bit fidgety.
"Th-thank you, Commander." He stuttered, facing forward and taking a swig of his water.
"Eh?" Oren looked at him and laughed. "Bahahaha! I didn't expect this from ya', Brazo! Just a few compliments and ya' look like a bloody tomato! Oh man, I'd hate to see you drunk around the ladies, eh!" He joked, elbowing Brazo in jest. "Ya know ladies like a man in black, don't ya', ya' foxhound?"
PC fight: Brazo shook himself around in an attempt to loosen his muscles up. He held his sword forward in both hands, steadfast and unmoving. He glared at his opponent while sizing them up. Compared to himself, he couldn't see why on Earth they'd challenge him. They were quite obviously physically weaker than him, and their grip seemed strange. He wouldn't underestimate them, though. Even if his foe was weak or unskilled, that had its own advantages. A lack of skill made someone unpredictable, as they didn't know what their best course of action was. Weakness also emboldens the foe. He'd have to try his best not to plan too far ahead in this fight. For now, however, he had decided on an opener. Brazo charged forward, coming to a sudden stop before he could meet his foe. He quickly lowered himself and swiped at his foe's arms with his blade, hoping to catch him off guard and weaken him a bit.
Class: Mercenary
Dragon Element: N/A
Age: 19
Born in: Lycia
Appearance: Brazo has black hair, and seems to like the color as he accents it with similarly black clothes and armor. He wears black civilian clothing, and dyed leather armor over it. His armor has iron plates over vital parts, and even these metal pieces are blackish. He wears black gloves and boots as well. Besides his particularly gloomy attire, he's rather muscular.
Personality: Brazo is a very taciturn man. Stubborn and stoic, he prefers to keep to himself. Whenever he becomes attached to someone, he finds himself stumbling around them socially, unable to communicate his feelings and scared of trying. He's not easily flustered, but when flustered he collapses into a gibbering mess. He prefers to communicate through body language and actions rather than words. He's confident, obedient, and loyal- a model mercenary.
History: Brazo grew up in an orphanage, and was adopted by a traveling mercenary band to act as a trainee and assistant. As a child, he would help people with daily chores, maintain weapons, and receive training with a blade. He began to view the man who formally adopted him, the leader of the band, Commander Oren, as a father. He happily continued with his duties, even though they were simply chores, while thinking of this band as his family. He was content with his life. As he got older, he was given more responsibilities, and the role of a combatant. The more he spent as a combatant, the more he changed. The way he saw it, the violence of battle was what was expected of him. It was his duty to his family, this band of mercenaries, to do battle. In his beginning, they had jobs that focused on monster extermination. This didn't last however, and Brazo had soon after killed a man for the first time. When this happened, something inside of him clicked.
This is what was expected of him. This is what he had to do. This wasn't just his job, this was his way of life. He began to view being a mercenary in a new light. These men around him- his family- didn't just get into this because it seemed like something they would enjoy. Nobody chose to be a mercenary because it was easy, because of the pay, because of the glory or anything else. This was the only path they could take. It was certainly the same for him, as well. Were it not for this band of mercenaries, he likely would've been some street thug, or dead.
To say that Brazo was married to this job was an understatement. It was all he knew. Fighting for the highest bidder was his life. This changed when the boss died in the band's last assignment. A bonewalker had gotten lucky, and slew the boss with one well placed lance thrust. After the assignment and pay was distributed, they disbanded. Others grouped up together to search for opportunities elsewhere, others chose to relocate but stay in the country of Lycia, but it didn't matter much to Brazo. The closest thing he had to a father had died, and his family had abandoned him. He was out of work, too. The things he thought constant in his life left one after another as the the job he was married took everything from him in a messy divorce.
With little left but his clothes, armor, blade, and will to live, Brazo began to wander the continent, doing odd jobs for food and drink. Each night he, not a particularly religious man, hopes and prays that his life will one day return to what it was before. Until then, he has nothing to do but wander.
NPC fight: Brazo readied his training sword. The aging teen, while good, was still no match for his mentor. Oren readied his wooden axe, and they met each other in combat without so much as a word. Brazo thrust, and Oren nimbly side-stepped and went to deliver a swing from the side using his momentum. Brazo quickly reeled back and blocked the wooden axe just before it hit him. He tried to push the older man's weapon back with his own, but the man met his challenge and began to best him in this pushing contest. "Not a good idea, Brazo!" Oren said. Surprisingly, Brazo quickly pulled back from the pushing contest and dashed back at Oren, delivering a quick thrust to his abdomen. "Well I'll be, Brazo. You've been getting better and better at this." He complimented, as that round of training was over. Brazo nodded and sat on the bench. Oren brought him a cup of water, and the two relaxed together. "I wouldn't have thought that you'd fake me out like that. Ya' sure are learnin', son!" Oren said. Brazo's face lit up in shock and he turned to look at Commander Oren. This was the first time he had actually addressed him as "son". Although he reasoned that he was just referring to him as "son" like he was using the word "friend", part of him was jumping for joy at his effort being recognized. His face got red, and he felt a bit fidgety.
"Th-thank you, Commander." He stuttered, facing forward and taking a swig of his water.
"Eh?" Oren looked at him and laughed. "Bahahaha! I didn't expect this from ya', Brazo! Just a few compliments and ya' look like a bloody tomato! Oh man, I'd hate to see you drunk around the ladies, eh!" He joked, elbowing Brazo in jest. "Ya know ladies like a man in black, don't ya', ya' foxhound?"
PC fight: Brazo shook himself around in an attempt to loosen his muscles up. He held his sword forward in both hands, steadfast and unmoving. He glared at his opponent while sizing them up. Compared to himself, he couldn't see why on Earth they'd challenge him. They were quite obviously physically weaker than him, and their grip seemed strange. He wouldn't underestimate them, though. Even if his foe was weak or unskilled, that had its own advantages. A lack of skill made someone unpredictable, as they didn't know what their best course of action was. Weakness also emboldens the foe. He'd have to try his best not to plan too far ahead in this fight. For now, however, he had decided on an opener. Brazo charged forward, coming to a sudden stop before he could meet his foe. He quickly lowered himself and swiped at his foe's arms with his blade, hoping to catch him off guard and weaken him a bit.