Name: Gareth
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Race: Mixed
Height: 6’3

Appearance: Gareth towers over most of the good folk that pass him by, and with his broad shoulders and heavily muscled frame, he throws an imposing shadow wherever he walks. He has a broad face, with a strong jaw, sharp features and a thin pointed nose, a handsome shelf of brow and sharp black eyes gives him a pleasing cast, if somewhat tarnished by a habitual scruff of stubble across his jaw and chin. He has long, dark hair, normally kept swept back and tied with a thong at the neck.

At a glance, or at a distance, he passes for a human with ease. It is not until you get up close, and start inspecting the man that odder, mismatched features appear. Like the strange taper of his ears that does not end in quiet the point of an elf or a goblin but has a noticeable leaf shape to them. His smile is crocked, and sharp, the teeth at the corners, perhaps just a touch larger than a normal man’s, certainly enough that it catches your attention.

Normally he dresses in well-worn leathers and tunics, with high shafted and well-trodden in boots, cuffed gloves, and a cloak. However, when there is work to be done, he augments his wear with one heavily armored gauntlet and greaves, worn and chipped, any ornamentation they ever had now long gone and worn away by use. A chainmail does him for his torso, and on occasion he has been seen wearing a knight’s helmet, with visor and gorget.

Personality: Gareth is, at heart, a man who wished that he was better than he is. He misses the days of his youth when he was bright eyed, naïve, and full of ideals. A hard life has taken that out of him and left him more jaded than he likes to admit, a bit harder around the edges, and with a bleaker outlook on the world than he once left home with. He is stubborn, stupidly brave, ill tempered when rubbed the wrong way and morose and brooding when in his cups, or late at night when the world is too still. There is hope though, sometimes the man he once was shines through, when the guilt would be too great if he did not listen to the voice of his conscience, or when he remembers that he once was a knight.

Skill Sets:

Noble education: Gareth received what passes for a decent education among mid ranked nobles of the fledgling empire, even if he was never particularly academically gifted. He learned history, geography, etiquette, letters, and numbers.

Languages: Gareth speaks both the languages of elves and orcs, a heavily accented form of common, as well as Flow Fingers and Dot Dash code.

Squiring: During his years as a squire he learned how to mend and care for armor and weaponry, how to set camp, scavenge and hunt for food, and field dress wounds. All the useful skills a squire needed to be of use to the knight he served.

Knight: The art of war, specialized as heavy cavalry, he is proficient with most arms, and how to fight from atop a mount and in heavy armor. He has a good hand with horses, even knows how to do a farriers work himself.

Witch Finder\Monster Hunter: A through line in Gareth’s military education was how to hunt, kill, and protect yourself against rogue spell wielders and monsters. To which end he has a basic knowledge of warding rites, protective charms, and monster anatomy and behavior.

A good cook: You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but when supplies and ingredients are afforded to him, Gareth can cook a good and hearty meal.

Neutral Aspects:

Pacem mongrel: He can pass for a human, unless scrutinized too closely. Some would look down and discriminate against him because of his muddled heritage, while others might see him as one of their own, even for the few spare drops of blood that they may have in common.

Big and scary: Tall as a tree, broad across the shoulder as a bull, he’s naturally rather intimidating, for good and bad.

Weaknesses:

Hot tempered: It might be the orc blood, it might be the wars, or he was just born that way and it runs soul deep. Either way, Gareth has an ill temper when challenged.

Enemy combatant: Gareth on close inspection stands out as one of the Pacem, and his armor, way of fighting, and age could all be used to infer his status as a former soldier in their army. Rendering him in the eyes of many, a enemy wherever he roams.

Weighed down by guilt: Gareth has done things in life he is not proud of, and some of those things weigh heavily on him. When it gets the better of him, he drinks too much, and his mood sources easily. He often sleeps poorly and is plagued by nightmares.

Notable Equipment:

Armor: Gareth’s armor is a hodge podge of his old knightly gear, and replacement pieces he has looted and scavenged, it’s missing the chest and back plate, the right gauntlet, and Its pauldron. As well as a large, triangular shield, the once painted front now worn down to just blank steel.

Oil cloth bundle: Strapped underneath the saddle of his horse is a bundle wrapped in oilskin, anyone approaching it has learned it’s best to leave it alone, or risk a couple of broken fingers, if not a whole hand.

Lady: His horse, a giant, black mare, closer to a draft horse than a proper war horse, but she is loyal, fast, and strong.

Likes: Lady, a good inn, reading, his freedom, when he can convince himself to do the right thing.

Dislikes: Himself most days, anyone who makes a claim to righteousness, those who abuse their power, attention.

Habits: He whistles when he rides, or hums. A tell that he’s feeling cornered or uncomfortable is the way he will rub his neck or scratch the sides of his head. Curses in mixed languages when he loses his temper.

History:

Gareth was born the third son of a regional Lady and her consort, high in the mountains of Pacem. From an early age, the lad knew that he was destined to join the army of their fledgling nation. It was in the blood, or so he was told. Even before Pacem became a nation, the branches of his family tree had always grown warriors dedicated to their people, be they champions of the orc clans or elven knights. And the little lordling would follow in this tradition. No other choice was given.

He grew up learning of gallantry, the obligations of the nobles and the duty of a knight to guard all those that stood behind him. They filled his head with grand dreams, and his heart with stalwart bravery, and dedication. When he finally came off age, he was made a squire to an uncle, and was sent off to join him at camp. From there his military career began, with the menial tasks that all squires perform, and in between such duties, were endless hours of training, and honing his skills at arms.

Time passed, and Gareth saw many battlefields, both when Pacem went to war, or defended its borders from invaders, but they also took part in the campaigns when the army was hired out as a mercenary force. He was kept away from the worst of it, but it shakes the heart of even the most dedicated, when you spend your evening cleaning gore out of armor and weapons.

He earned his spurs early, he was only sixteen, but he grew up big, strong, and stupidly brave, and earned accolades in the field, the last, which he earned by saving his uncle after the man fell of his horse during a charge, finally earned him his rank. As a knight in the heavy cavalry, he was placed on the frontlines of every battle, year after year passed by, bloody battle after bloody battle, and it began to wear on the young man. It seemed less and less like a glorious war for honor and a righteous cause, and more like butchery.

When the war was no longer against an enemy, but his own people, rebels, angry peasants, those who had been brought into Pacem through conquest, it was finally too much. He could not stomach it any longer. After one particularly awful campaign of suppression, he could not bring himself to go back to camp, to stand beneath the flag that he had fought for so long. It was just too much.

He got on his horse, and rode away, as far away as he could. I has been some years now, and the shine has been worn off the once radiant knight. Now he is a mercenary, a blade and muscle for those willing to pay the coin. It’s not a job that he is proud of, but it is the skill he has. It has seen him through the day by day, and will keep on doing so until he slips up, and someone gets the better of him.

That was the plan. That was until one day, he didn’t take a job, but had it thrust upon, and when it turned sideways, he found himself shackled to a witch.

Connections:
Nym
Lady